Prosopagnosia in Langkawi

How good are you at recognising faces? If you see a girl one day then you see the same girl again the following day, can you recognise her and remember in what circumstance you met her? What if she is wearing another set of clothes? What if the context is different, such as the Tube instead of a library, or a café instead of a shopping centre? Arsene is very good at this: let's say he talks to a girl for 30 seconds on a Monday. Then on Friday he accidentally bumps into her again. Even if she is dressed in a different way, he will remember her name and how he met her. Very useful skill obviously! The story that follows is an extreme example of how we don't share this talent.

Langkawi was the first Asian destination where Arsene and I decided to focus on intense daygaming. All our previous sessions had been in London at the weekend. This time it was going to be for one full week in South East Asia. We started with a few days in Singapore. Arsene was discovering the city for the first time and did a ballsy stop on a beautiful Indian girl right in the middle of a busy MRT interchange in Dhoby Ghaut. Good start.

We then flew to Langkawi in Malaysia. Langkawi is a good holiday spot: a large island, not too crowded and much less developed than nearby Phuket. Resorts can be sparse except in that particular strip called Cenang beach, which is more populated. This is where we had decided to stay, striking a balance between watersports, nature and chatting up people.

Right after landing on the island and settling in a shabby hotel, we visited the beach where we approached two or three girls, mostly French and German. Then we did a boat trip involving feeding oranges to wild monkeys and throwing chicken at eagles to see them dive and fish it. Having done enough disruption to the local ecosystem, we decided to spend the following morning lounging on the sand. Arsene was happily roasting while I was timing myself to avoid the sunburn. From a distance I recognised a tall blond girl walking along the shore. She was the German girl I talked to the day before. 

“Look this is Stephi!”

“No that’s not her,” Arsene objected.

“Yes it’s her, I’ll go and say hi.”

And I started running towards her joyfully yelling “Stephi, hey Stephi!”

My joyful jog grinded to a halt when she turned out to be an old lady with roughly the same hair colour as Stephi. I jogged back to my towel and it took Arsene a while to stop laughing.

Since that day whenever I fail to recognise someone's face, Arsene goes “Stephi? hello Stephi?”