Day 7 - I Like It Rough

Today I'm feeling rough, definitely not in tune with the past couple of days. I decided to make my way to Coral Bay for breakfast, after hearing rumours of snickers-filled-rotis. In hindsight, probably not a great decision the sight of said roti nearly made me hurl.  So with minimum energy levels, I purchased a sarong and found a comfy spot under a palm tree to curl up in. Sounds rough doesn't it? If you have to suffer stomach cramps from over-Asia-indulgence, under a shady palm tree isn't such a bad place to recover.

After pumping myself full of drugs (read: ibuprofen, paracetamol, stomachease), it was time to get ready for pirate night. It seems they like dress up parties here in the Perhentians, and we're more than happy to oblige, especially when there are free drinks to be had.  So once again the eyeliner came out, as did the scraps of clothing and ropes we stumbled upon on the beach. The dirt we didn't have to fake so much.  With my heart on my sleeve (quite literally), we arrived at the Buffalo Bar and were greeted with pineapple juice and rum (yum!), then nabbed a candlelit table to observe the firetwirlers (or so I thought).

Whilst having a really rather intelligent conversation with the girls (Tori - Southampton UK, Gwen - Cardiff Wales, Emma - NZ) as to whether the boys looked better as ladies or pirates, I glanced at the firetwirlers, and had to do a double take. One looked a little too familiar. Not a minute later, Tom was asking me to video him firetwirling. With me audibly gasping and thinking it would all end in tears, Tom put on an impressive performance and showed up the Malays at their own game. It wasn't until after that Tom let me know he'd never firetwirled before.  Needless to say, with more drinks comes more enthusiasm, so by the end of the night, most of the boys had tried their hand at it. Under Tom's watchful eye of course. Not one to be shown up by the boys, I had to have a go too (sorry Mum).  Wearing entirely synthetic materials, I twirled that fire stick until my arms begged for mercy.  I escaped with only a few burns, and my clothes no less tattered than when I begun. With hands and bodies covered in charcoal, we really did feel like pirates. The night ended in high spirits, with 2am hamburgers and a not-so-sober job offer for Tom. It was the perfect last night on the island.  Long live the pirates of the Perhentians.