The day began with breakfast (you can see a pattern emerging here). I am sure a daily review of our morning dietary habits are getting tiresome, so from this day forth I will stop talking about breakfast. Assume I have eaten breakfast unless informed otherwise. Assume said breakfast was acceptable. I will give a mention to the monkeys who kindly joined us for breakfast, making our meal a little more entertaining.

We had booked a hire car to be delivered to our hotel. They told us this would happen by 1030. I guess island time is a concept observed on islands all over the world. 11 o'clock came and went. The car eventually reached us at close to midday. It wasn't really a problem as it gave us some time to look out into the rainforest from the balcony. I also took the opportunity to try to enter this dark realm of black market electronics via the monkeys. They saw right through my undercover disguise. I didn't have a tiny hidden camera so I used my SLR and taped it to my Ray Ban's. Didn't work.

We took a drive to nowhere in particular to see what would end up happening. Around 20 minutes later we had pulled over near a sign indicating there was a waterfall nearby. We could see a small waterfall in the not too distant.. distance. It looked very pretty, and so we decided a walk towards it would be fun, and maybe a nice photo opportunity too. There were monkeys aplenty in the area, and on our travels we witnessed some poor souls becoming victims of these gangs. They had made the mistake of leaving their items on a nearby table, and going near the water for a drink or a paddle.

Suddenly, the primates descended and grabbed what they could. Before anyone knew what was happening they had disappeared up into the trees, holding what appeared to be bags of dried fruit, a soldering iron and some underwear. I don't know what the people who left these things on the table had planned for the rest of the day, but it would have been interesting to find out.

We continued to walk toward the waterfall we had seen when we parked up, and to our shock realised that there was a much bigger waterfall up ahead. After negotiating perilously awkward steps we reached the fall. It was magnificent. The warm sunshine cast a dazzling display of light and shade over the pool at the bottom of the waterfall. It was difficult to resist stepping into the water, despite being completely inappropriately dressed. My wife warned me that dressing up like the tooth fairy would attract the wrong attention.

The water was cold. Really cold. When I took my first tentative steps into it, I was tempted to turn back. There were however, some guys that were significantly older who were looking at me. They were looking at me and pointing and talking. And smiling. Then laughing. On reflection they probably weren't looking at me. Or laughing. I did see them speak to each other though. Twice.

I decided to brave it and continue. It was worth it. Please see the attached photos to see what I mean. Also watch the video of the guy who took our breath away with his backflip into the water from the waterfall. I did however wish I had a pair of sandals with some grip. My flip flops were useless on the rocks smoothened by water over time. I slipped so many times that my wife stopped looking when it happened (initially she would bravely come to my rescue).

After the waterfall, we had the long walk back to the car. My shorts and tutu were heavy and wet. The waterfall also made me really need the loo. The walk felt very, very long. Then, we finally got to the car area, and I was relieved (not that kind of relieved) to see a toilet. However, there was a rather huge guy there (with tattoos indicating some sort of toilet gang affiliation) with a bucket which had "toilet 50 sen" written on it. I am fairly sure this guy has nothing to do with the waterfall. However a) he was huge, b) I needed to go and c) he was huge. I plan to go back there tomorrow with my own bucket, with "toilet 25 sen" on it. I will undercut him and start my own toilet gang. Will let you know how that goes. Ideas for our symbol in the comments box please.

As we continued to drive in a random direction, we passed a sign which said "crocodile farm". We stopped here. I was immediately perplexed. The word farm indicates that they produce something in this place. I have heard of animal farms where children get to pet the goats and lambs. Maybe we could pet the crocodiles?

We purchased tickets and entered the farm. Here, we saw crocodiles of all sizes, colours and ages. We got to see the crocodiles feeding, and then a show in which a gentleman decided it would be cool to kiss a crocodile and put his hand into its mouth. I wondered how he discovered that this was his calling in life. I imagined him as a child hanging around the mangroves. I can't work out what happened next. It certainly involved a large reptile and the young boy's appendages.

The show also had a bizarre moment in which a crocodile handler picked up a crocodile to show us the best and most expensive part of its skin. I thought it would be weird of I was in a petting zoo and a farmer picked up a lamb, showed me its leg and said this is the really expensive bit of the lamb. The analogy here would continue in that the same petting zoo would sell the lamb meat and fur on the way out in the gift shop. Yes, ladies and gentlemen the crocodile farm makes money by showing people crocodiles, then by selling the bits to the people who paid to see them in the first place. It has inspired me to open a similar venture in the UK. Except with chickens. People would pay to see chickens, right?

After a pit stop back at the hotel, we decided to take a drive to Kuah, where we were informed a night market would be taking place. This was an incredible amalgamation of colours, smells, sounds and people. We purchased some salt, which fortunately had a small grilled ear of sweetcorn attached to it. I felt my blood pressure increasing with every bite of the alkaline maize. We also stopped for satay and grilled chicken. Both were sublime. I had a "susu" drink which was radioactively green in colour. I felt somewhat strange afterward. They assured me it was natural, but I am a little worried in case anyone makes me angry and awful things begin to happen.

I also tried the "smells like hell, tastes like heaven" fruit they call Dorian. The young men who sold it to me did so smirking, like they knew something I didn't. This was quite evident as soon as they handed me the fruit I had purchased. Nobody warned me that it was spikey. I picked it up, and threw it straight into the air. This sounds like a good idea, but I thought it would be bad etiquette to let the thing hit the floor or another human being's face. So I caught it. It was 1kg in weight. With momentum. And spikes.

The fruit itself was not as terrible as had been made out to me. It did however leave an aftertaste which is lingering on until now, despite my best efforts to get rid of it with various juices, a pancake, fisherman's friend lozenges, tooth brushing, chocolate eating and sticking sticks up my nose to alter my sense of taste. I won't be eating this fruit again for a while.

I managed to buy a pair of sandals and look forward to testing their grip on the rocks soon. We took a detour out of Kuah to nearby Langkawi Parade, where my wife purchased a burkini.

Upon returning to Kuah, we drove around the small shops and cosy feeling town centre. We decided to have a massage here, as we had been advised they are cheaper than the resort massages. We located a small massage place, and went upstairs. My masseur was a chap by the name of Ameen. He seemed nice enough. However, it transpires that he was a retired ninja torturer demon man.

I realised tonight that the real reason they have your face in that holdy thing at the end of the table is so that the masseur cannot see your face wincing and miming profanities at the anguish and agony being inflicted. This abuser of innocent tourists managed to find every pressure spot on my body, and pulverise it. He didn't understand English, and when I told him to calm down he must have understood "massage my liver through my back please". He also appeared to have limited knowledge of human anatomy, because he clearly thought that somewhere between my knee and hip there was another ball and socket joint. Nothing else would explain the directions he was trying to move my legs.

At one point I cried out in pain. He just smiled and said that this was a good sign. Sadist.

I have to say once the ordeal was over, I was left feeling relaxed (I can't tell if this is more relaxed than I was before the torment, or whether it just felt amazing to have this barbarian's hands away from me). My wife informed me that her experience was not quite as painful as mine. We did get to know the couple who ran the place a little bit, and they seemed awfully nice. Turns out my masseur was the owner's younger brother.

Through a wincing smile I told them it was the best massage I'd had in a long time. They offered me discounts on return massages. Upon returning to the hotel I set fire to the paper with their price list in a ritual designed to expunge their transgressions into my sinew. My right leg periodically sends an SOS signal to my brain stating that something terrible has occurred here today. My brain, having received these calls from every muscle, joint and organ in my body has decided it would be best if it too started to hurt. That way the other body parts should feel worse about complaining.

Overall though a wonderful day. We look forward to going back to the night market again during our stay.

In my next blog, I will discuss the merits of sandals over flip flops.