I did something I’ve never done before in my life yesterday.

I drove a jetski.

Actually, does one “drive” a jetski? I know you ride them; but I didn’t just ride (on?) a jetski. Ohhh no. Because that would imply I was merely the passenger. Whereas I was, in fact, the driver.

And it was BRILLIANT*.

Honestly, I was happy as Larry, driving/riding that jetksi at full pelt off the coast of Batu Ferringhi, with A1 as my wingman. We had a blast - and I think I did pretty well considering that I don’t even know how to drive a car (although I do know how to ride in one).

The whole afternoon was lovely, and fascinating, as always. It’s about a 30-minute drive from the hotel to BF; and it was even interesting before we’d left the hotel area, when I saw one of these negotiating some speed-bumps. And yet the day got even better.

As we drove to Batu Ferringhi, A1 pointed out parts of the island that had been damaged by the tsunami in 2004 - including new flats that had been built for those who had lost their homes. Not surprisingly, these new flats were on stilts.

We then arrived at BF itself - and basically spent the afternoon eating lunch at a bistro on the beach, talking, sunbathing (V) and jetskiing (me and A1). A2 joined us for a drink at the end.

The pictures are here and here - and include photographic evidence of my Top Gun On Water experience.

And yes, it was a Bounty-like paradise. Perhaps the post should have been called ‘Doing a jazz gig… If you’re drinking Bacardi’:

*To be said in Rick from The Young Ones voice.

The beach was lovely today. Exactly like a Bounty/Bacardi advert - even down to the reggae playing in the bar, as we sat with our toes in the sand - but I’ll write about it properly tomorrow, when I’ve uploaded the photos. In the meantime, as Vic tries to get some sleep behind me (eye mask and ear plugs intact), I’ll write about tonight in the bar.

It was a very mixed crowd. Quiet at the beginning; then suddenly busier as a huge group of twentysomething locals (as in: that was their age. Not their group size) arrived; and then more punters after that. Some of whom were listening, some of whom were chatting, but all of whom were dominated by the huge group, who shrieked with laughter and clapped each other at random moments. Well, random as far as we were concerned  - but probably somehow linked to the drinking games they were playing. One of which seemed to involve dares; and one dare of which seemed to involve kissing a member of the band. Because some girl, after unsuccessfully attempting to plant a smacker on Y, moved on to me (as I was offstage), politely explaining that she had to kiss me. To which I proffered a cheek; and after kissing it, she said thank you, told me her name, and said that it was nice to meet me. As you do.

The effect of having this raucous crowd present was that a) it felt like a restaurant gig, where you’re background music (not always a bad thing); and b) I was up for singing whatever, whenever. So I found myself doing ‘Close To You’ (or as it was written on the song request card: ‘Closed To You’) at the end of the night, and the following:

Which is quite possibly my second favourite song dedication card of the trip so far, after ‘Diana Ross’.

Obviously, they meant ‘Smooth Operator’ - so in my break, I popped to the business centre, Googled the lyrics, printed them off and hey presto! At the start of the third set, performed ‘Smoke Operator’ in a perfectly, erm, adequate fashion. At least I could do ‘Your Love Is King’ (a number I do sing) as a follow-up, in a crazy Sade Double Bill.

In the first break I also got talking to an American chap who was propping up the bar. I’ve had this sort of radar on me ever since I first arrived: the ability to spot the lone Westerner (not that that’s too tricky) and to go up and talk to them at the first opportunity. J is part of the Ohio contingency here - they’re building a solar panel plant out in Penang - and he clearly was delighted to have someone new to talk to.

And similarly, at the end of the night, I ended up having a drink with a guy from California who’s traveling around Asia on holiday, and who, it turns out, is a professional hacker. According to him, he’s one of the best. I said: “So is someone who’s not very good at hacking a ‘hack’?”. But he didn’t quite get it.

So, anyway: the reason for the title of this post is the encounters like those I had tonight; and the situation which is bringing these meetings about.

In the bar alone, I’ve met: a millionaire hotel owner, a computer hacker, several engineers from Ohio, a Swede who lives in Bangkok, the wife of a high court judge, the managing director of a car radio company, a retired palm oil plantation owner… and probably many more who I can’t think of right now. And I can meet several of these people in one night.

I don’t normally meet this people in one month in England.

Coming to this place has engineered these encounters. And it’s compounded by the fact that I’m here alone, so open to talking to strangers; and by the fact that hotels are obviously going to attract people who are alone - whether that’s travellers on business or pleasure - and who are, therefore, open to talking to me in return.

And I guess, too, that it’s happening because I like people. It doesn’t go without saying that a musician should also be a people person - but finding myself as I am in this situation, I’m glad that I’m naturally drawn to, and interested in, other people. Otherwise it would be a very lonely time of it indeed. And, hey: I wouldn’t have found myself propping up a bar with a professional computer hacker from California. As you do. Or at least, as I do. When I’m alone in a hotel in Penang.