My prevailing sentiment of world weary introspection provoked by repeated recent provocation was somewhat thankfully alleviated in a failure to hook up with the lovebirds that day, and so I assumed a refreshing mode of solitary relaxation, compounded by a rare chance to switch off and indulge myself in watching a hitherto underappreciated delight in Bush Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. It made me aware as to just how much I had lived life down to the wire for so long, that simple pleasures such as a good film or music could render so much importance, sacrifices I had forsaken so long ago that I had lost sight of their significance.
A much greater favour still though was introduced with the arrival of a disarmingly sweet and pretty Danish girl who remarkably showed an immediate penchance for returning my attentions in an unaccustomed favourable manner. Sine from Aarhus was here to pursue the draw of Mulu like myself, and later that day my invitaton to join me in a foray out to local attraction Canada Hill was accepted devoid of reservation. Upon tracing our way through still largely unexplored Miri and then up a sweat sapping snaky incline, rich conversation and mutual appreciation had me realising much more than the summit upon which Malaysia had founded her first oil well in 1910. It was that emminently rarer of all commodities, it was love. As I my eyes drilled helplessly captivated into her soul, her kaleidoscope eyes would unmistakably betray a chemistry which she could only belatedly force herself to deny with an endearingly shy smirk and downward gaze. What a sweetheart.
With the booking of Mulu proving problematic I had already opted to postpone and curtail that venture in deference to the similar draw of the Kelabit Highlands, agreeing to fly up there with Roberto for a hopefully cheaper and more authentic jungle experience. Sine however had somehow managed to get onto an allegedly booked out early flight to Mulu even if her tour was outrageously expensive and it was now heartwrenching to learn that a recently arrived couple joining her would help push the price down. Together with Roberto and I, the trek along the renowned Headhunter's Trail from Mulu back to civilisation had now become a reasonably priced alluring alternative, but Roberto's mind was already set and I couldnt run out on him now.
I wasted 2 hours of my life watching the diabolically lame film The Interpreter before seeking solace in the live band playing downstairs. Though the music was another long missed indulgence, Sine didnt drink much and so had opted to stay upstairs, my mind perpetrated in that direction in frustration at the situation.