Having an injured foot is a wonderful excuse to be a completely lazy backpacker. Oh, I can't schlep my backpack. Oh, I need to just sit here on my fat ass. My poor foot. That is, until another guest happens to want to go to one of the same places that sounded interesting. You know, like a wall of fireflies lighting up the night. Even if I couldn't remember quite why this was sitting in my mind, as if a wall of flashing insects, trees lit up by flying enzymes burning the night, needed any more reason.

Finally, I remembered that when I received my bachelor's I was given the book SNYC by Steven Strogatz, about natural processes that become synchronized, a classic example being the spontaneous synchronization of the flashing of thousands of fireflies. Just like what we might be able to see in kuala selangor, about 60 km north of Kuala Lumpur. Except that this is not the season for the fireflies to appear enmasse. We'll be lucky to see a few here and there. I will content myself with imagining a wall of fireflies, draped within the trees lining a river, flashing on, off, on, off, on, off, darting through dark branches.

My morning ritual was becoming set. After an entirely unsatisfying, yet free, breakfast of cornflakes and white bread, I'd mull around the hostel and then walk over to the indian shop, three stores down after turning left. Here I would ask for roti pisang, a sweet oily banana pancake served with sauces full of indian spices that my mouth could not reconcile with the sweet banana. This morning there is a new girl, dressed in the yellow shop uniform, she speaks almost no English but takes my order for roti and a chapatti. The chapatti is my attempt to pretend to eat a healthy breakfast--well, at least it is very filling.

While waiting I browse through a supplement of the local english paper, the star. The cover announces the 61st birthday of some important person. Inside there are typical news articles as well as several critical of israel's attacks in gaza. One letter writer praises the recent unanimous condemnation by the malay legislature of israel's actions. Another letter writer says the palestinians should stop trying to provoke israel and should concentrate on building a viable nation.

My roti arrives but the new waitress says no chapatti. No chapatti until lunch at noon. It is now about 10:45. Hmm, I should have learned this by now. Any naan? She's flustered. Another waitress comes up--she's been there for a while. She's also short, not chatty and doesn't smile much, but she's efficient and speaks better english. She says, probably for the 5th time to me, that there's no chapatti or naan until lunch time. Darn. Now why don't I stop in during the evening and preorder my chapatti / naan for breakfast? Hah. Well, the roti is yummy, though the undisolved chunks of sugar are a bit much.

Boy am I lazy. I go for lunch--banana leaf set and a long-awaited chapatti. If it wasn't for my friend I'd never get off my ass. The Thin Red Line is showing on TV. Bullets streak by in a field somewhere in southeast asia. The soldiers lie prone, confused, scared. Who said the opening scenes of Saving Private Ryan were the only realistic portrayal of battle in a movie? This skirmish seems pretty real to me, at least as much as a movie can approximate such stupidity. A newbie traveler shows up. She's young. Very attractive. Her red lipstick marks her as naive, wet behind the ears. She enquires about a room. About 20 minutes later she shows up toting a heavy suitcase. She asks if she can leave her stuff here while she goes for her other bag. How much stuff does this girl have? Another 20 minutes pass and she shows up dragging an even heavier and bigger suitcase, a solid thing made of hard black plastic. She can barely drag it up the 3 steps. She has a few more shopping baqs with her. From where do her bags materialize? I formulate three theories.

- On her first trip away from home, she has come here on a noble mission to live among the natives for a year teaching english. Her suitcases are full of the necessities of life for a full year, perhaps even books and school supplies for the students.

- On her first trip away from home, she has come here to do lots of shopping. Her suitcases are full of the many clothes she brought with her so she could look pretty as she goes shopping.

- On her first trip away from home, she's a complete ditz.

We take a cab to Puduraya station. Inside we try to find out where to catch the bus to Kuala Selangor. We get waved on down the line. Outside the station. Toward the other buildings. We ask a bus driver. He points us back in the other direction. On my theory that people standing outside of the 7-11 next to Puduraya station know what they're talking about, we wander back and ask someone else standing next to the 7-11. He barely answers through his grin, from which are missing several teeth, a ragged face whose skin is just a bit darker than his stained teeth. He points us back in the direction we were coming from. We try inside the station again and get told to go downstairs. No, go outside by the grass. We go outside. There is no grass. We ask another bus driver. He says stand over there by that woman. There's no station. It's just a traffic island. Two unsavory looking men suspiciously approach people crossing the street or getting out of cabs. We're not sure what they're up to but best not to ask them if this is the place where the bus to Kuala Selangor stops. We watch the "super nice" and "super vip" buses go by, including one that runs the full length of peninsular Malaysia from penang to johor bahru. Malaysia is wonderful: it's either very organized or a completely confusing adventure. The lucky few get to ride on "super nice super vip aircon bas paserarian". Certainly more fun than sitting on my ass in the hostel.

After about 30 minutes bus 147 arrives. Fyi, you want to take bus 141 or 147 from the traffic island next to puduraya station. The bus makes a few more stops along the road at more official-looking bus stations. The ticket is myr$3.80, but we will need to catch another bus somewhere down the road for two ringitt. We ride the bus for about 2 hours. We pass palm plantations. Some land has just recently been cleared, perhaps for new plantations, or to use the wood from old plantations. The bus driver fancies himself a race car driver, clearly he was destined for formula 1 greatness. The bus revs, the engine roaring. He passes on the corners, leaving those lumbering trucks and their prisoner cars in his tailpipe dust. A whole class of students get on. The boys and girls wear white school uniforms. If it were my uniform it would be stained to hell. The bus fills up. The bus empties out. Distance markers slowly tick down the kilometers remaining to Kuala Selangor. We dash for the next bus in our journey, to take us the last 35 km.

We get into town. My friend is disappointed: it's not quite the undeveloped village she was hoping for. I kind of like the place. Even the missing grates designed to break your ankles and scrape what flesh remains from your shins. We get obtuse directions to the hotel, the ???. At least two out of two residents agree that the hotel is that-a-way. We walk up the hill. There's a chair sitting in the middle of the road with a sign in malay saying something important. There are workmen on the hillside. A truck pulls up and the men in the cab wave at us. I grab the chair and ask if they want it moved out of the way--suddenly they start waving frantically "no no". We walk on a bit, and I reflect that they may well have been saying "no no, don't go there stupid tourists! It's dangerous!". Oh well. We ask one of the workmen, he says oh ya, it's the way we're going. Ya right. Another workman seems more confident and directs us back down the hill, down a bunch of steps. I just hope we don't have to go back up here again.

The hotel turns out to be a nature park. Complete with little drive-around tourist train. There are students here on some educational outing. We look for the office. A chubby teenage girl with long dark hair comes running after us. She has a backpack on--why is she carrying her school bag everywhere with her if she works here? We walk to the tiket kounter ("ticket counter" is written beneath the sign, just in case you didn't understand it in Malay). The office has various informative displays. It looks like a nicely laid out educational center. Obviously someone with experience setting up these sorts of facilities is providing advise. It's slightly less polished than your typical western-style center but all the elements are there. Posters, stuffed or dried animals, brochures, a model, local walks, recycling bins. We look at the chalets (myr$45), which are simple thatched wooden huts with attached bathrooms, and the a-frames (myr$25), which are even simpler and smaller. The beds in the a-frames are on the floor. As the door is opened a bunch of mosquitoes flit about. The chalet it is--and besides, I get to say "I'm staying in a chalet". In Malaysia, any separate unit that is not an a-frame is a chalet.

We go into town for dinner. On the way I pick up some mosquito coils. The shop owner doesn't know "mosquito coil" but there it is on a shelf, 10 coils of 0.3% d-allethrin (the good stuff) for just myr$3.80 (usd$1). One-half of a coil is rated to keep a 60 m3 space clear of mosquitos for 12 hours. Certainly worth it given that the screens in the chalet don't seal perfectly. Children in white uniforms press against the windows of yellow bas sekolah ("school bus"). For dinner we settle on a chinese place. I want chinese chicken noodle soup. What I get is tom yam soup modified to chicken with noodles and mild spicy. My friend orders a big BBQ fish.

Tom yam soup is an amazing surprise. It's full of vegetables. It's very tasty. I'm very happy: fresh vegetables in soup with chicken. And tasty. Yum. Oooooouch! Holy smokes. I take a bite and my mouth is on fire. This is the hottest thing I have ever eaten. I need water. I don't have water. I need rice. Ow. I'm sweating. My throat hurts. I get up to ask for some water. I get the hiccups. The back of my throat is burning. I'm laughing, hiccuping, sweating, and cursing. The waitress brings a glass of water. No no, a bottle of water. I drop the rice before it makes it to my mouth. I'm sweating some more. What just happened? This is hotter than the fiery goat weed I ate in beijing. Hotter by far than the hottest thing I had eaten before today: a dish of local hot thai food I ate in kanchenaburi and that reminded me of its presence the next day. After that, my friend decides to eat the soup. I have no idea what has possesed her to eat this spawn of the devil, this cauldron straight from the depths of vulcan. I munch on the fish and nearly choke on a bone. She pulls out one of the green chilis in the soup and says, did you eat one of these? I thought those were green beans! Yes, that must have been it. Wow, those things are evil.

Having survived the delicious and evil tom yam soup my faith is restored. I eat the rest of the noodles and finish dinner off with an ice cream. What flavour? Uh, sweet. Kind of neon-green ice around a bit of vanilla ice cream, all for 1 ringit. We go back to the chalet (isn't that fancy?). It rains. Thunder booms. I go for a walk in the dark in search of the famed fireflies. Lightning flashes in the night, rain falls in the jungle. It's muddy in the dark, my pants get wet. A firefly flashes its amber light in the damp leaves of the forest. In north carolina the fireflies emit a bluish light. Here, the first firefly I saw gave off an amber light which it flashed rapidly. Later, I saw another kind of firefly that gave off a more continuous bluish light as it flew.

Fireflies emit light to find mates. Males and females of each species emit characteristic patterns of light. The rain continues to fall. Here and there appear fireflies. The mangrove forest is not lit up with a wall of fireflies--but then I did not expect to see such a display during this season. The lightning is not too far off now, down to a 6 second count. The rain tapers off. In a dark tree, sillhouetted against the sky, there are many fireflies, moving among dark leaves and branches. Two fireflies are on the ground, among the leaf litter, mating. Their abdomens flash an amber light.

The park is setup and run by the Malaysian Nature Society whose symbol is a tapir. The park is set along a river next to the coast and protects mangrove and jungle habitat. In the morning a group of youth are suiting up in yellow or black rubber boots. They wear yellow t-shirts. Their teacher or leader gives a little talk and then they go off into the forest to do some work. I go for a walk. There is a loop trail that walks along a drainage ditch. The trail crosses a little bridge over the ditch. Signs along the way point out some interesting species, some with food or medicinal uses. A tree with many overhanging and spread limbs is full of macaque monkeys. The tree has a beautiful spreading shape and seems to be a favorite with monkeys. I stay to take some pictures and the monkeys move toward me. There is a monkey directly over my head. One must think 3-dimensionally when dealing with arboreal creatures. I back up--not fancying a macaque landing on my head. The group is of mixed ages, perhaps 30 individuals from infants to adults. I walk past and climb a watchtower overlooking a mangrove wetland. Various jungle trees extend away. On the tower are drawn, in an amatuer hand perhaps belonging to youth, crude images of various birds, including several birds of prey and small colorful birds. The steps up strangely have no consistent height, a common feature of concrete buildings here.

I continue along the trail. The youth who had earlier gone into the park are now coming out. Their boots are muddy and some stop to dump out water. Some of the kids sport a fresh coat of mud all over their legs and shirt. One of the adults explains that they were out here planting mangrove seedlings sponsored by a company. There are signs from various international companies in the park including ExxonMobil, a cosmetics company, and others. Each has paid for some plot to be planted with mangrove seedlings. It is good that mangroves are being planted, as much of the mangrove forest in the world has been lost in recent years.

Further along there's a concrete walkway that cuts through the mangrove swamp. All along the thick grey mud are many colorful crabs, most 1-3 cm long. Some are bright red or orange, others are blue, some have an irridescent green mark along their eyes. Their large claws wave in the air, always at the ready to dive into their nearby holes. A 3-cm long mud creeper hops among the crabs. Mud creepers are fish that can move outside of water in the mud. I had only seen them previously shown in documentaries and it was thrilling to watch one. Was this seen as a "missing link" by some bygone researcher? Further along I see a much larger mud creeper, about 20 cm long, sitting in a pool of mud. On my way back I see several eagles flying across the water in the direction of the old light house. I take the trail across a little rope bridge and through a magnificent jungle. Roots meander across the trail. There are ferns and trees of many varieties.

I climb up the hill to check out the lighthouse, which was built in 1907. The lighthouse is fenced but there's a local history museum. It explains the history of Selangor, starting around the 14th century. It covers the wars with the dutch and other notable events. Various artifacts and weapons are on display. On my way out I spot a large group of ??? Monkeys. They've gathered around a vendor selling food for monkeys for 1 ringit. They're much less aggressive than the macaque monkeys. The vendor has a friendly relationship with the monkeys. Several young are hanging off of adults. The young are easy to spot since they're a golden color for the first 4 months before turning silver-black. Spotting the actual mother is harder--the monkeys like to swap the young around. One very young monkey is nearly fought over by three adults who try to keep it to themselves but then seem to reluctantly hand it over when each adult asks for it. This seems to be a communal way of raising young. The monkeys groom eachother for parasites. A very cooperative aspect of society.

It is my intention to head on to somewhere. I have another bowl of that yummy tom yam soup and ask how to get to pulau pangkor, an island where there could be some snorkeling. The options are to go back toward kl and catch a bus up or to take many local buses. It seems too complicated and as it's already nearing 4 pm I decide to stay another night. It is good I stayed as I saw one of the most amazing natural phenomena.

Kuala selangor is known as a place to see masses of fireflies flashing in synchrony in trees lining local rivers. I was told this was the low-season for their activity--that they are most active april to august, and so did not expect to see much. The park itself doesn't have any information about viewing options and when I asked about seeing the fireflies they said you could see them just going for a walk in the park (as I had done). So I really had no expectations to be able to see the mass firefly displays. Fortunately, I was wrong.

Around 19:30 there's a knock at my door. A man of indian descent wearing a tan shirt and with imperfect english identified himself as the night watchman and asked if I'd like to go see the fireflies. Since we could split the trip with a family staying at the park it would be myr$20 for the petrol (the ride to the firefly park) and myr$20 for the boat. He was a bit confused about this and made sure to explain it a few times. He seemed a bit nervious about closing the deal. It took a few attempts to ask if the display would be different than what I had seen already. He said they're different, here they flash independently, but from the boat they flash all together. I was sold. He came back a bit before 8 to pick us up and we rode over to the ??? Park.

I was joined by a welsh family on holiday--parents and their two children of about 6 and 8 years old. The younger child, a girl, seemed to have a penchant for annoying her father who kept admonishing her not to use "that tone". We got in the car--on the dash was one of those gas electric globes you see at science museums; I asked the driver to switch it on and watched the electric vortices curl through the ionized gas. Our driver seemed enamored of flickering things: in the dash was a stereo with rows of green and red leds to indicate the power level of each audio channel. At the park we purchased tickets for the boat for myr$40 total. The boats are wide flat-bottomed vessels (name) on which an oarsman stands at the rear, rowing with two long oars.

The fireflies are attracted to particular trees that grow along the water. We were taken across the river along the opposite bank. Various debris floated in the water, perhaps palm fronds. A reddish planet shone brightly some 30 degrees up from the horizon, its light reflected in the dark water. A bush twinkled in the dark, on off, on off, at first dim it grew in brightness as we approached. All along the river were trees filled with twinkling fireflies. As we moved around the trees their 3-dimensional structure became visible, like computer animations of points that when spun make out a familiar 3-dimensional object. The fireflies' blue-green light flickered rapidly on and off. Whole branches and trees would synchronize, or be broken into blocks each of which would flicker in synchrony, a branch here, a branch there. The fireflies' light reflected in the water. They flickered against the background of the stars in the night sky, the boat briefly stopping amidst a tree covered in tiny lights, some flying slowly around us. The boat was filled with the mellifulous sound of welsh children. The boatman lit a cigarette, its glowing lit end bobbed up and down in his right hand as he moved the oars. Across the water came the sound of a Muslim prayer. Palm fronds and trees stood silhouetted against the night sky. later I would encounter another kind of living light, one that also loves the water, one that gives its life to many.