Leeched

Back from our second attempt to conquer Borneo, I'm pleased to announce that we've all returned decidedly un-head-hunted, but there was still plenty of blood-shed thanks to the local leeches.

The sun shining, we set off on an excellent hike into Kubah National Park that ends at a lovely, extremely slippery, two-tiered waterfall. The ranger at the station told all about how clean and clear the water was, recommending that we be sure and remove our boots for a quick soak and not even hesitate to drink the water (something which I met with great scepticism - 'drink the water' isn't something you hear a lot in this part of the world.)

After walking at a steady clip for about an hour and a half in 90 degree heat with 100% humidity, the hiking boots were shed immediately upon arrival.

A few minutes later my mother noticed that blood was streaming from my ankle.  I knew I hadn't cut it and noticing that the blood was flowing in a steady trickle from a tiny hole, I grimaced, said 'leech' and shrugged.  They're gross, but harmless.

Leeches are also remarkably sneaky.  They latch onto your undetected, getting into the most bizarre places (hours after we returned Thomas found one in his armpit and Ian located one settling in his belly button!)  They inject their victims with anaesthetic that prevents you from feeling the bite as well as an anti-coagulant  to ensure a steady stream of blood (which often continues long after the leech is done feasting and has fallen off of you in a blissful blood coma).

When we returned to the car, I noticed a red patch of liquid slowly creeping across the sleeve on my mother's shirt.  I paused, looked her up and down, and she - quite literally, looked like she had just been shot.  There was blood streaming down her leg, arms and chest. Fortunately, she's a nurse so the sight of blood doesn't really phase her. Examining her wounds (and more concerned about the state of her shirt than the leeches), she told us quite happily of how they actually still use leeches for medicinal purposes.

Ian cheerfully announced that at least we'd be free of consumption, the vapours and all other medieval disease.

The whole thing was a bit like that scene with the leeches in 'Stand by Me' only featuring a calm fifty-something woman rather than a passel of panicky teenage boys.

Clearly, I had underestimated my mother. She took it in stride and as we headed back into Kuching it was decided that an immediate need for beer(s) superseded the need for clean clothes.  We spent a happy hour slurping pork noodle soup and downed a few beers, while mom happily built a beer can tower before sauntering off for a long overdue shower.