christmas in langkawi

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I hope you've had a nice time, and - if you've any sense - at least one After Eight chocolate over the last few days.

A week has been and gone since my last blog entry, and it's time for a long overdue update. Following my last blog Raj and I have travelled up by ferry to Pulau (Island) Langkawi, where we stayed for four days, based in the main resort area, Pantai Chenang. Thankfully accommodation was available and we checked in at the Melati Tanjung Motel for the duration.

We spent Christmas Eve getting drunk at Debbie's Place, an Irish bar along the main tourist strip. It was a lively evening, with plenty of people coming and going, and the Tiger Beer flowing as fast as the water down nearby Temuran Waterfall. We met some interesting characters including amongst others: an Irish couple who teach English in Japan, a sour faced German woman called Angelica who wanted to be in Hanover, two fabulous middle-aged Swedish ladies, a former mayor from South Africa called Jerry, and a Kuala Lumpur based journalist called Simon who was not so much full of beer as of himself. I had a lot of fun, and it was just the way a Christmas Eve should be in my view. Around midnight the room was spinning sufficiently for us to call it a night, and that's what we did via a walk home along the beach.

We spent Christmas Day relaxing. There's not much to report. We had a wander around Chenang, sat on the beach, ate some Indian food in the evening (no turkey for me this year), and drank a couple of quiet beers at the Jungle Bar.

On Christmas morning we hired a moped, and used this from Boxing Day onwards to explore the interior of Langkawi. This was great fun. Over two days we went to Kuah (to go to the bank), Mahsuri's Tomb, Pantai Kok (reputed to be the best beach on the island), the Langkawi Cable Car, the Datai Hotel (a five star resort), the Temuran Waterfall, Gunung Raya (the highest point on the island), the Durian Waterfall, and Pantai Pasir Hitam (the black sand beach). This little lot used up almost a full tank of petrol.

On our last morning by the beach in Chenang we whizzed around on jet ski's out in the Andaman Sea, before jumping back on a return ferry to George Town in Penang. We stayed overnight, and then caught a VIP bus back to Kuala Lumpur, which is where I am now - waiting eagerly for New Year's Eve to commence. If all goes well, and I have my way, I will be in no fit condition to blog tomorrow.

Just to note, I recently set aside Tess of the D'Urbervilles (which I am halfway through) in favour of reading Freakonomics. This is an interesting book written by a Chicago economist and his journalist friend. It looks into the economics of all kinds of interesting phenomena from drug gangs to good parenting. I'd very much recommend reading it (especially to my friend Andrew). I'm back with Tess now, who has just taken on a job as a milk maid outside the vale following her illegitimate baby's death. Joy.

Final thought: Langkawi lands fifteen thousand five hundred and thirty nine tonnes of fish a year.

penang

The island of Penang, just off the west coast of Malaysia, is the oldest British settlement in South East Asia, and has always had a reputation for attracting the bohemian and the adventurous. I'm not surprised; it really is the most charming place, and the longer I'm here in Georgetown (the capital) the more and more the colonial streets, old churches (built with convict labour), and breezy water front are growing on me.

Raj and I are staying in the heart of the China Town area and have been hunting out a few of the sights and local landmarks over the last day or two. On Friday we made our own walking tour around the Colonial District. This incorporated Fort Cornwallis (where Francis Light first landed in 1786, establishing Penang), City Hall, the Padang, the State Assembly Building, the Victoria Memorial Clocktower, St George's Church, the Cathedral of the Assumption, and the Protestant Cemetery (where Light and all the other famous people associated with Penang are buried). I enjoyed the ramparts of Fort Cornwallis the most, and seeing Seri Rambai, an old large cannon which dates back to 1603. Some local women believe leaving flowers by Seri Rambai will help them get pregnant. They call it, 'the big one.'

Have also taken a tour of the Cheong Fatt Tze Mansion (Cheong Fatt Tze was a wealthy Chinese merchant known during his lifetime as the 'Rockefeller of the East'), which was built in the 1880s. The powder blue, thirty eight room, courtyard mansion is built in line with Feng Shui principles, and cleverly fuses together both Western and Eastern elements, materials, and ideas. The reception hall floor, for example, is made of Stoke on Trent tile, and some of the windows are designed in Art Nouveau style. Our tour guide unravelled the ideas and reasoning behind Feng Shui, and how it had been applied in the Mansion. She was excellent at her job, and deeply interesting to listen to, but also strangely moody. She would periodically tell us that we were falling asleep or not concentrating enough. Her jokes all had to be followed with the sentence: 'that was a joke uh,' which perhaps gives you a subtle indication of their quality.

Just been to the Georgetown sea front and booked two ferry tickets to Pulau Langkawi, a beach resort island north of Penang. This is where Raj and I will spend Christmas and Boxing Day (possibly sleeping on the beach if all the rooms are booked out). We leave tomorrow morning and will be awash on the Straits of Melaka for about two hours. We plan to stay and relax for roughly four or five days, and will then make our way back down to Kuala Lumpur. This is a slight change to our original itinerary which also included jungle walking in Taman Negara before returning to KL. There just isn't going to be time to fit this in. I'll probably go up there on my own after Raj fly's back.

It's around lunchtime, and the warm afternoon awaits me. It will be spent trekking up Penang Hill for a view out over the island. My powers of clairvoyance are telling me that an ice cream will be bought. The bigger the better.

the cameron highlands

Located in the heart of Peninsular Malaysia, the lush green Cameron Highlands rise to almost two thousand metres, and were named after an Englishman, William Cameron, in recognition of his achievement in having mapped out the area in 1885. The bulk of the local population live in one of three moderately sized hill towns and work as tea planters, or vegetable farmers, or in the tourist industry.

A lot of local buildings are designed in mock-tudor style: leaded windows, white walls, and fake exposed black beams. This is a legacy of the British Empire: colonial types used to come up in the early 1900s to escape the heat, and tried to build their holiday homes in a style that recreated the feel of the home counties or picture-postcard England. They wanted to create the illusion they were still in Surrey rather than five hours north of Kuala Lumpur.

They failed.

But the result is still very interesting to come and see, and definitely worth raising a confused eyebrow over. Modern buildings are still being constructed in pastiche tudor style so you find recently finished five storey apartment blocks kitted out in the style of Shakespeare's birthplace. It's a very curious fusion, and not a little bit strange.

After arriving in Tanah Rata (the biggest hill town in the Highlands) on Monday, Raj and I checked in at the Hill View Inn. It's a nice little guesthouse it has to be said, although I have noted the friendly cleaning lady there engages in the rather unexpected practice of walking round with one of the strings from her track suit top stuck up her nose. I have not yet been able to discern whether the cord is cosmetic or medicinal? Perhaps both? Nor have I dared ask her about the unspoken of blockage. What I do know is that she will quite happily hold a relaxed conversation with you while it is inserted. Beyond this the Hill View is an unremarkable and relaxing place to be.

Yesterday Raj and I went on a trip to the Boh Tea Plantation, and saw the terraced tea plant fields. We also took a tour of the tea factory where there was a demonstration on how tea is made: the process, what makes a good or bad cup of tea, how much gets made, and so on. It was very interesting, and surprisingly simple it seemed to me. After our tour we retired to a beautiful hillside cafe with views over the terraces and drank some Boh and ate scones with jam.

Today we've been out hill walking along some of the local trails. We've been a good few miles, up and down, left then right, along the dirt tracks which lead out of Tanah Rata. We put one foot in front of the other for a good four hours, passing the Robinson Falls, and then on to thick mountain undergrowth, until we came out the otherside reaching a small Chinese Temple, which we couldn't go in because our feet were too muddy. All went well and it was a good day although there was one incident.

Raj was ambushed and attacked by a leech about two hours in.

The attack was swift, calculated, and brutal. Before anyone knew what was happening it had pounced and attached itself to Raj's hand. There followed a violent struggle. I then jumped into the fray. If Raj was going down, I was going down with him godammit. Fists flew. Legs kicked. And heads butted. Man versus beast, someone wasn't going to live to eat dinner that evening, and I was damned if it was going to be me who went six feet under. The battle was long and hard but the one centimetre beast was eventually vanquished (I pinged him off on to a leaf during a moment of hesitancy). We were able to carry on, bruised, panting, struggling for breath, our clothes torn and bloodied, but still alive. Still alive.

Tomorrow morning we will catch the bus to Penang. The journey will take roughly six hours, and will return us to the heat of South East Asia.

no longer flying solo

Raj has arrived safely in Kuala Lumpur, sporting a new look short back and sides designer haircut no less, and I suddenly find myself no longer flying solo as a backpacker. It's been great to see him again, and wonderful to have a friend from home to talk to about everything that's happened to me over the past six months. Seeing someone familiar has also really brought into focus how far I've been from 'life' since I stepped on my plane at Heathrow last June, and how completely removed I've been over the last six months from everything I'm used to. It's been brilliant to see him, and we've already had some good laughs, which I've no doubt will continue.

We've pretty much hit the ground running travel wise. Just spent a couple of days in Kuala Lumpur knocking off the sites, and have now moved north, by bus, to the Cameron Highlands to visit the big tea plantations. In a day or two we will travel further northward to Penang to engage with some colonial history. After Penang, we will either go on to Langkawi for the beaches, or east to the Pulau Perhentian Islands on the north east coast. The decision will depend on where the weather seems to be best. Finally, we will work our way back down to Taman Negara, where we will stay and go jungle trekking, ending up by returning to Kuala Lumpur, bringing us back where we started.

Yesterday, Raj and I went to the Batu Caves just outside Kuala Lumpur. The caves, containing a Hindu Shrine, are halfway up a limestone cliff and can only be reached by a climb of two hundred and seventy two steps. They have been used as a shine for over a century and are famous because of the annual Thaipusam Festival which they host, attended each year by a million repenting pilgrims. As penance for their sins they climb the cave steps with weighted hooks hanging from their backs, and spikes pierced through their cheeks. It's a sight to behold (I've seen a documentary by Alan Whicker on it) but when I was there it was all quiet and calm and very hot.

more from the muddy confluence

I tried to visit the National Mosque yesterday without success. To be respectful I was careful to change into my long trousers before I went, and studied the tourist visitor hours board carefully before entering. I arrived during a prayer time, and so sat and waited outside in the street by the gate for forty minutes until the next visiting time began. When this time came I went in as far as the car park, and towards the reception desk. An official at the top of the stairs behind the desk saw me and started waving dismissively and angrily that I should get out, and get out urgently. I tried to gesture for him to come down and speak with me so that he could tell me why I couldn't come in (it was after all visitors hour and I seemed to be appropriately dressed), and when I might be able to come back. However, he didn't want to come down and defile himself by actually talking to me, so in the end I had to just turn and walk out. I still don't know when I am allowed inside, and to be frank I don't want to go back to the place anyway if that's how I'm treated. I think the official was extremely rude, and behaved in a manner unbecoming of a religious building. So anyway, I left.

This incident furthered a bad mood I was already in, which began a few hours earlier when I noticed my trusty sandals were beginning to fall apart so badly that I couldn't wear them much longer. Our partnership, or relationship, was about to reach irretrievable breakdown as they call it in the divorce courts. The right sole pretty much fell off around 6pm, and I had to face facts and either go and buy a new pair or start walking bare foot. I chose the former and successors were found in a shoe shop called 'Batu' on Jalan TAR in Little India. They're working out ok so far, but I miss my old sandals. I had hoped they would make it back to Heathrow with me, but instead they have become a trip casuality. Soldiers who fell in the field of action.

Wondering how long a pair of hush puppies in tan can withstand day to day use in South East Asia? The answer is one hundred and seventy days.

I'm waiting to go over to the airport to meet Raj, an old friend who is coming out to visit me for a few weeks. He should be arriving around 11.30am Malaysia time. I'm really looking forward to seeing a familiar face from home after so many months, and also to having someone with whom I can talk through how it's all gone, the good and the bad, the expected and the unexpected. Will probably have bored him to death by Sunday. Better be off to meet him...

kuala lumpur

I'm back in Kuala Lumpur, and have been for a couple of days. The flight back from Brunei was smooth and without any problems.

Yesterday I took it pretty easy but did walk over to the Dartaran Merdeka (Independence Square) in the afternoon to see the old British colonial buildings, which are built in a mixture of Tudor, Victorian, and Moorish styles. The Sultan Abdul Samad Building is gorgeous. Once the home of the British Secretariat it is now Malaysia's Supreme Court (which is why I saw so many barristers in robes wandering around). I also went to the Central Market and looked around for a while, perhaps because it was so hot and the indoor space was so well air-conditioned. They've got some nice tourist fare on display.

Today I've been to the National History Museum. Admittedly I'm sick to death of museums, but the visit was very useful and important in giving me some orientation on recent Malay history, politics, geography, and religion, and it was really worth going.

Ever wondered why Malaysia used to be called Malaya, and why that changed? Until 1963 what we know today as West Malaysia was called Malaya. The name changed because in 1963 Malaya's recently independent political leaders agreed to unite as one with Sarawak (at that time South British Borneo), Sabah (at that time North British Borneo), and Singapore, all becoming one big new country. The new country needed a new name and Malaya was altered to Malaysia, the 'si' slotted in to stand for Singapore. Things didn't work out of course, Singapore was kicked out of the union two years later after much arguing and disappointment, but Malaya, Sarawak, and Sabah are all still happily together under the name of Malaysia.

I also learnt that Malaya (as it then was) became independent from the British in 1957, that Islam was introduced by Arabian traders five hundred years ago, and that there are nine sultans of West Malaysia (one from each state) who take it in turns on rotation to be the constitutional king and head of state (they rule alternately in five year terms). The position of King operates in much the same way as in the UK, and the Malaysian Parliament positioned below is very similar in style and form to ours too (a colonial legacy I suppose).

Once I'd finished my lesson at the museum I caught the Putra LRT over to the Petronas Twin Towers, the most famous building in the country, and a national icon. The towers are currently the tallest twin towers in the world, and lay claim to being the world's tallest high rise of the twentieth century. They are spectacular to behold. I arrived too late to go up to the viewing deck, and plan to go back first thing in the morning.

After this I went to, and up, another extremely tall building: the Menara Kuala Lumpur, a communications tower four hundred and twenty one metres high (one thousand three hundred and eighty one feet) which like the Petronas Towers was built in the 1990s. I sat on a bench at the top looking out over the sky line for quite a while and took some photographs of Kuala Lumpur. I watched a thunder storm come and go, a toddler have a tantrum, and had a chat with the woman in the gift shop about the location of the official residence of the Malaysian Prime Minister.

I've been staying at the Backpackers Travellers Inn since I arrived back. They've been very kind in dealing with the back log of misery and chaos that was my dirty washing (couldn't afford to get it done in Brunei and had to keep holding on and on and on).

I'm about to go for a wander around China Town for something to eat, and I may pop in to the Reggae Bar for a Carlsberg. I ought to pop in: it's Wednesday night, that's reggae night.

Full name: Federation of Malaysia
Population: 25.3 million (UN, 2005)
Capital: Kuala Lumpur
Area: 329,847 sq km (127,355 sq miles)
Major languages: Malay (official), English, Chinese dialects, Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam
Major religions: Islam, Buddhism, Taoism, Hinduism, Christianity, Sikhism
Life expectancy: 71 years (men), 75 years (women)
Monetary unit: 1 ringgit = 100 sen
Main exports: Electronic equipment, petroleum and liquefied natural gas, chemicals, palm oil, wood and wood products, rubber, textiles
GNI per capita: US $4,960 (World Bank, 2006)
Internet domain: .my
International dialling code: +60

wanted - brunei waiter or waitress

THE ROLE

Bandar Seri Begawan restaurant requires waiter or waitress to join friendly team of eight others in a busy city centre location serving up to one customer a day during the rainy season. Ability to work under pressure is essential. The successful candidate will work on a rotation system with the other waiters and waitresses, and will actually be the one to serve the customer every eighth day.

PERSON SPECIFICATION

Skills:

• Able to demonstrate a strong ability to confuse very simple orders. For example, will always bring customer coffee when tea has been requested. (Essential).
• Developed skills in sitting at the back of the restaurant, slouching, and looking bored. (Essential).
• Good communication skills. Able to chit chat with other colleagues about local gossip, what's on tv, and a range of subjects not relating to the restaurant or serving customers. (Essential).
• Should be able to use initiative. For example, if the customer asks for local directions the candidate should be able to use his or her discretion, and say 'eerr... don't know.' (Essential).
• Willing to spend long periods eating the restaurant food for free. (Desirable).

Knowledge:

• Competent in using text messaging applications including Nokia and Samsung. Should be able to demonstrate ablility to text friends whilst ignoring customers (multi-tasking). Training can be given in this area if required. (Desirable).
• Good understanding of Malay teen magazines. (Desirable).

Additional duties:

• Able to assist the manager as required in insuring that, at any one time, a number of items listed on the menu are not in stock, and are frustratingly unavailable. (Essential).

This post requires some physical exertion. The postholder should have a strong backside which they are capable of sitting on for long periods.

Think you have what it takes? Then pop in and speak with the Restaurant Manager. He is employed to work at the restaurant from 9am to 5pm, Monday to Friday, so you might catch him when he rolls in at 11am for ten minutes, and he usually wanders through again for a chat with some of his staff on his way to the shopping mall around 3pm.

The salary is six gallons a week. This is negotiable depending on experience and personal links with the Sultan.

This post is funded by the Royal Government of Brunei Darussalam, in conjunction with Shell Oil, and is funded for the next twenty four years. After that... errr... who cares we've got twenty four years of oil left!

This post is subject to Brunei Equal Opportunities Law. Local Muslim women are welcome to stay at home and not apply.

more from brunei

I awoke this morning to find myself in the midst of the 2006 Brunei Marathon. I realised something was happening when I walked out of the hostel to find the road empty. Before I worked out it had been purposefully blocked off, a man in shorts came running along with a number stuck to his back. Then another. And another. And then a few more. And then the penny dropped - I was standing in the middle of the Brunei Marathon. Half-interested, I walked down to the finish line and watched a few of the hot and weary cross the white line. It was just after 8am in the morning, and the race had begun a few hours earlier (early to beat the day time heat I suppose). Not many people were watching the runners, and there were only small crowds dotted along the route. Nothing like at the London Marathon for example. I noticed the event was being covered by a Brunei television station though, so maybe everyone was watching at home.

I went off for some breakfast and after went for a ride down the river in a 'flying coffin' speedboat. They are so-called because of their plain wood interior and because of the speed with which they hurtle across the water. They really do move. As I had requested; the driver dropped me off on shore at a park a little out of the city. I then walked the four or five kilometres back via the Jame'Asr Hassanal Bolkiah Mosque, the largest mosque in the country. It was a large and impressive sight when I finally found it. As I went in I was asked to wear a long black button up robe, and duly obliged despite feeling hot from walking and really not being in pressing need of any additional garments. When I looked in the main male prayer room I found a massive, and well decorated dome roofed space, and two men hoovering the prayer carpets.

'How long does it take you to do the whole room?' I asked.

'Just this room? The whole room?'

'Yes. Just this room.'

'Errr... one week,' said hooverer, a look of regret in his eyes.

It really was a huge area, and very beautifully decorated, and wonderfully air-conditioned, which was just what I needed at the time. I stayed for a while admiring the walls and ceiling, and cooled off from the heat of my walk.

So that's it. I've seen all the sights I want to in Brunei now: everything on the tick list has been ticked off and executed. It's been nice being in a country where the main problem is the closing of the main dual carriageway now and again so the Sultan can race his Ferrari's (I'm not joking), but I'm ready to head out. I leave tomorrow lunchtime, and fly back to Kuala Lumpur in Western Malaysia. Will be in KL by dinner time all being well.

bandar seri begawan

It's been a day and a half since my journey up to Brunei from Miri. It wasn't as straightforward as I'd hoped getting up here, taking six hours, four buses, and a boat ride across a river.

I was pleased to leave the Thai Foh Inn. I shared my room there with two others, although I was not aware of the fact until the morning of my check out. Getting ready to go I opened my wash bag and two cockroaches darted out and onto my hand. They made a sprint circuit around the wash bag, and then made for the finish line back inside between my toothpaste and shower gel. I eventually got them out, and they scuttled under the double bed in my room for sanctuary. Reluctant to pursue them further I checked out and walked over to Miri bus station. I was pleased to leave.

It didn't take long to reach the border with Brunei (about an hour) but it took a while to pass through immigration and onto a bus the otherside. I got off to a bad start with Brunei. As I entered I was ready, and hopeful, of moving on to a new page in my passport, and eagerly handed it over to the immigration official open neatly on the page where I wanted my next visa stamp. To my dismay he gazed at the blank page, then turned back several and, for no reason other than sheer malice, banged down his stamp next to my Japan entry details. 'That page is already amply full you cretin,' I wanted to shout at him, 'why didn't you start a new page? You've screwed up my passport you government automaton!!' But I thought better of it, and kept my mouth shut.

A bus then took me and several other locals up to Kuala Belait, where a river blocked our passage. We disembarked from the bus and jumped in a small motorboat which took us across. On the other side another bus was waiting to take us on north to Seria, and drove us up along the Brunei coast. Off shore the horizon was dotted with oil rigs, the reason for Brunei's wealth and fame. When we reached Seria I had to wait for an hour for a connecting bus to Bandar Seri Begawan (the capital city and my destination). I was amused to find the station master doing no work while I waited, instead preferring to play out tunes on a casio piano keyboard on his lap, singing cheerfully as he played. The bus eventually left and took a couple more hours to reach Bandar, dropping me right in the city centre. As we drove I noted the large houses along the roadside, and how many cars there were in each driveway (often four or five: Brunei has the highest rate of car ownership in the world).

I'm staying in the dormitory at the Pusat Belia, which is a sports and youth centre. There aren't many tourists here but those who are seem to be almost uniformly British. My dorm is clean and comfortable (no cockroaches) and within my budget. There's also an internet cafe on the premises, which would be very useful if it were open during the hours it is supposed to be.

Brunei is very different from how I imagined. In my mind's eye I'd always thought of it as a Middle Eastern desert country like Saudi Arabia. Of course, it is nothing like this and is located in another part of the world. Most of the country is lush jade green rainforest, and the feel is decidedly South East Asian, although with clear Islamic influences everywhere you go.

Bandar Seri Bagawan, known locally either as Bandar or BSB, is a pleasant place to be. It has a population of roughly seventy thousand, is nicely laid out, modern, and feels only half inhabited. Like Singapore, the roads are half empty (no hint of congestion), and in most of the restaurants I'm the only customer. Bandar hugs the Sungai Brunei River. On one side (my side) is the modern city, whilst on the other is Kampung Ayer, an old fashioned stilt house water village where - incredibly - thirty thousand people live. I've seen water villages already on this trip, and Kampung Ayer is comparable except, Brunei being Brunei, the stilt houses are much, much bigger than any I've seen before.

I spent yesterday morning walking the gang planks of Kampung Ayer and found the people I encountered very friendly indeed. Everyone wanted to say hello, shake hands, and welcome me to Brunei. It was a hot morning but I had a really good time investigating the tangled wooden mess that somehow fits together cohesively and safely. I've also had a look around the city centre, including a few hours in the Yayasan Sultan Haji Hassanal Bolkiah Complex, which is the big shopping centre here. I'm currently making my way through the local museums and mosques as well, and have been to, or am in the process of visiting, the Sultan Omar Ali Saifuddien Mosque, the Jame'Asr Hassinil Bolkiah Mosque, the Royal Regalia Building, the Brunei Museum, the Sultan Bolkiah's Tomb, and the Istana Nurul Iman (the Sultan's Palace).

Brunei is clearly a very rich country. Most societies divide into 'have's' and 'have nots' but Brunei is an exception to the rule. Here people are either 'have's' or 'have mores.' Brunei, it seems to me, is not wealthy because of hard work, innovation, or intelligence. It is wealthy through luck and in consequence to geographical proximity to oil. The people here have not earned their homes, they have been blessed with good fortune. This is quite a worrying basis (and it is pretty much the sole basis) for prosperity as the oil is due to run out in twenty or so years, and no-one is sure what will happen then. I myself am not convinced that the people here have what it takes to continue their success without their easy oil ride. Looking around I see no-one who looks industrious or entrepreneuring. Everywhere is overstaffed, and most of the services I've used have all revealed a level of complacent incompetence which has really surprised me (I've just had breakfast in a restaurant where I was the only customer and there were eight waiters on duty - and they still got my order wrong).

Brunei's conservatism, based on Islamic Law, has also struck me since arrival, and has begun to rub up against my own liberal preferences. I can't get a beer (banned), everyone is very discretely attired, and everyone everywhere seems to want to stick closely to the rules (boring). I got quite a telling off in the Royal Regalia Building yesterday for taking a photograph in a section where photographs are prohibited (it was my mistake, but it was a mistake), and was frogmarched to the reception area where the manager insisted on supervising me delete the offending picture and wanted to check all the other images on my camera to make sure I had nothing untoward. Internet cafe supervisors also seem afraid to let me upload my photographs for some reason. I think here you don't do things unless you've been given explicit permission. Discretion and initiative are alien qualities.

I'm off now to see the Sultan's four hundred million dollar palace, and then perhaps on to a Mosque to find a cleric who can advise me on what the Koran has to say about extravagant wealth, personal indulgence, and profligate spending.

fifteen interesting facts about brunei

1. Brunei occupies less than one percent of Borneo's land area, and is the only sovereign country on the island, which it shares with the Indonesian provinces of West, East, South, and Central Kalimantan, and the Malaysian states of Sabah and Sarawak.

2. Seventy eight percent of Brunei is untouched rainforest - a higher percentage than anywhere else in Asia.

3. Brunei is the smallest non-island country outside Europe. The Sultan owns a cattle station in Australia which is larger than Brunei itself. The six thousand square kilometre station in Willaroo, Northern Territory, supplies Brunei with beef and other meat products. The live cattle are brought direct from Darwin and slaughtered according to Halal practices.

4. It is illegal to practice homosexuality or to hold hands in public in Brunei.

5. Brunei is home to the world's largest population of proboscis monkeys (the world's largest monkey with an impossibly long nose, protruding belly, and thick orange hair). Ten thousand are still in the wild thanks to its rainforest habitat.

6. Brunei is sometimes mockingly dubbed the "Shellfare State" (in reference to the significant influence of the Shell Oil Company). Bruneians have free education, medical services, and there is no personal or corporation tax.

7. Brunei is divided into four districts, called daerah. These are: Belait, Brunei and Muara, Temburong, and Tutong.

8. About two-thirds of the Brunei population are of Malay origin. The most important ethnic minority group who dominate the nation's economy are the Chinese, with about fifteen percent. These groups also reflect the most important languages: Malay (Malay: Bahasa Melayu), which is the official language, and Chinese. English is also widely spoken and there is a relatively large expatriate community with large numbers of British and Australian citizens.

9. Until 1984 Brunei was a British protectorate.

10. Brunei is an absolute monarchy. The Sultan is the head of state and head of government. The Sultan is advised by several councils and a cabinet of ministers although he is effectively the supreme ruler.

11. The Sultan of Brunei was at one time the richest man in the world. His net worth is now estimated at around twenty billion US dollars.

12. For personal use, the Sultan possesses a Boeing 747-400 furnished with gold plated furniture, six smaller planes, and two helicopters.

13. Brunei is home to the largest residential palace in the world today. The Istana Nurul Iman contains one thousand seven hundred and eighty eight rooms, two hundred and fifty seven bathrooms, and a floor area of over two million square feet. Amenities include five swimming pools, an air conditioned stable for the Sultan's two hundred polo ponies, a one hundred and ten car garage, a banquet hall that can be expanded to accommodate up to five thousand guests, and a mosque accommodating one thousand five hundred people. The palace was built in 1984 at a cost of around four hundred million US dollars and has five hundred and sixty four chandeliers, fifty one thousand light bulbs, fourty four stairwells, and eighteen elevators.

14. The Sultan is famous for his vast car collection. According to Guinness World Records he has five hundred Rolls-Royces — the largest collection of that marque in the world. During the 1990s, his family accounted for almost half of all Rolls-Royce purchases. Also, among his collection are the Lamborghini Diablo Jota, Porsche 959, Lamborghini Murcielago LP640, Maybach 62, Jaguar XJR-15 and six Dauer 962's. He is also the owner of six models of the Ferrari FX, the original red show model of the Bentley Continental R, two fully operational versions of the Ferrari Mythos concept car, both of the Ferrari 456 GT Sedans, the world's only right hand drive Mercedes-Benz CLK-GTR, seven McLaren F1's including both black LM models and three Cizeta cars. He also possesses a Formula One car as driven by every Formula 1 World Drivers Champion since the 1980 Formula One season, particularly the ones driven in the last race for each season.

15. The Sultan's brother, Prince Jefri, has been accused of embezzling twenty billion US dollars from the Brunei Investment Authority. In February 2006 the Sultan's legal feud with him ended when he dropped all charges.

Full name: Sultanate of Brunei
Population: 374,000 (UN, 2005)
Capital: Bandar Seri Begawan
Area: 5,765 sq km (2,226 sq miles)
Major languages: Malay, English, Chinese
Major religions: Islam, Buddhism, Christianity
Life expectancy: 74 years (men), 79 years (women) (UN)
Monetary unit: 1 Bruneian dollar = 100 cents
Main exports: Crude oil, liquefied natural gas, petroleum products
GNI per capita: n/a Internet domain: .bn
International dialling code: +673

bintulu and miri

On Tuesday morning I caught a Biaramas bus north to Bintulu. It turned out to be a comfortable eleven hour journey up Sarawak's main (and only) trunk road. I saw more longhouses along the way than you've had hot dinners. The majority were modern constructions, and not very pretty - most looked like battery chicken sheds with fifty front doors. One or two were incredibly long. I enjoyed my day, sitting quietly in seat number fifteen watching the world go by. We stopped twice at some small roadside stalls selling cheap and delicious local food. I filled up on Malay rice dishes twice.

I shared a room at the Capital Inn in Bintulu last night with a middle aged American man called Eric. I met him at the bus station (he had come south from Brunei) and we shared a taxi into the city centre. He was an interesting guy to spend a few hours with. He used to be a university lecturer in America, until he emigrated to New Zealand about five years ago, and became a citizen. He now teaches Korean people to speak English (to tide him over money wise). He is making a trip around Asia before he is, in his words, too old, and like Rose Nylund in 'The Golden Girls' Eric hails from Minnesota and is of Scandinavian stock. It looked rather odd when the two of us walked into the hotel together and asked for a double room. I almost said, 'you know we're not... and anyway I'm not... I mean we're just sharing a room to save... you don't think... and anyway I don't even know the guy... no that sounds bad what I mean is...' Rather than tie myself up in hopeless knots I just said nothing and decided I couldn't give a toss what the receptionist thought about the nature of our relationship, curious age difference, or my sexual orientation. It gets hard to care about such things after eleven hours on a bus across Borneo. The Capital Inn was pretty awful as Inns go. I'd only recommend that you stay if you're desperate. The receptionist handed Eric a room key and said, 'make sure you lock your window tonight or people will try to climb in. Ha ha ha ha!' Couldn't decide whether the comment was in jest or serious. Locked the window just in case.

After breakfast this morning I said goodbye to Eric and caught another bus up to Miri. I arrived here just after lunchtime. Miri, like Bintulu, is quite a large place with a few high rises, and a bustling town centre. Logging is a big local industry unfortunately, and many residents are busily occupied nine to five in the business of chopping local rainforest down. There are lots of modern Malay shops and buildings in the city centre, and a Chinese area, which is where I am staying (at the Thai Foh Inn). 'It's a very simple room,' the owner told me as he showed me a single. His tone was suggestive that this was a good thing. Again I wanted to open my mouth, 'in England we would describe this as a shithole rather than simple,' but kept it shut and took the room with a nod and a frustrated smile. It's inexpensive, central, opposite the bus station (which I need to go to tomorrow morning), and I'm only staying for a night. Can't find better unless I'm willing to spend more ringgit, which today it so happens I'm not.

Just been over to the bank (Maybank) and got some Brunei dollars out ready for tomorrow. On the front of each of the notes is the image of Kebawah Duli Yang Maha Mulia Paduka Seri Baginda Sultan Haji Hassanal Bolkiah Al-Mu'izzaddin Waddaulah ibni Almarhum Sultan Omar Ali Saifuddien Sa'adul Khairi Waddien. He is sometimes known more briefly, for short, as the Sultan of Brunei. Tomorrow I'll be in his tax free Muslim kingdom. Looking forward to that.

jong's crocodile farm

Just returned from a visit to Jong's Crocodile Farm, about an hour outside of Kuching by bus. I got up and left early this morning to make sure I arrived well in advance for the eleven o'clock feeding time. Jong's is about a kilometre from the highway bus stop, but the bus driver kindly took a detour especially for me and dropped me off right by the entrance, an act which was initially quite confusing for the other Malay passengers who filled the bus. There was a small photographic exhibition just inside the main entrance which I studied in some detail. It included a set of horribly graphic pictures of a child that had been eaten by a crocodile. The pictures were of the retrieval of the wet white corpse minus a leg. I took a few photographs but later deleted them because they were so unpleasant.

I was joined on my walk round the farm by a group of local school children. Wandering from enclosure to enclosure I could hear them shouting in English, 'hello crocodile, hello crocodile,' their voices getting louder each time as if expecting a response. None came, you will be unsurprised to learn. I took a few pictures and, inspired by the exhibition at the entrance, thought taking a close up of a crocodile head would make a good shot. I leant over a little into one of the caged enclosures and hung my camera in. As I was zooming in on a croc I noticed his still green eye move on my screen. A second later he snapped up violently towards my arm. The staff at Kuching Hospital have been very good and treated me very... just kidding... he missed me. But it gave me a hell of a shock, and I wasn't stupid enough to do it again.

Looking at them close up made me realise what ugly creatures crocodiles are. Unlike the late Steve Irwin, I can find nothing beautiful or redeeming about them. They look what they are: hideous, extremely dangerous, massively strong, and predatory brutes. I was unnerved by how still they are, and by their cunning stealth-like movements as they prepare to attack and kill. Looking at them when still, they look like they are dead. Completely motionless. You can't even see them breathing. And then one of those devious green eyes moves, and before you can say 'crikey' you've been bitten in half. Me and the kids witnessed the power of the larger (four or five metres I'd say) crocodiles when feeding time came. The farm keepers wound out large chunks of meat on a clothes line into the feeding pool, until a croc approached and launched up on its tale and ripped the meat down. It was terrifying.

In the end the only bites I got at Jong's were mosquito bites from the nearby wooded monkey enclosure. I noticed yet again on the bus back that the Proton motorcar is ubiquitous on the roads of Malaysia. They are everywhere. Malaysia is the only country in South East Asia to manufacture its own car, and the Proton is it. I can't say I like them much, but they are cheap to buy locally (I'll give 'em that). A few people also have Toyotas but the Proton dominates. On the subject of cars: I've seen two Rolls Royces in Kuching, and a brand new Jaguar - so somebody is making good money here it seems.

I leave Kuching tomorrow morning to travel north to Bintulu. My last impression of the city will be that of a sleepy unhurried place (everyday here feels like a flat Sunday afternoon) where people seem to be doing well and there aren't too many cares. It will be worth noting if the rest of urban Malaysian Borneo feels the same. I suspect so. I guess I'll find out in the next couple of days.

It may be a challenge blogging for the next few days, partly because I'll be on the road a fair amount, and partly because I'm not sure if they have easily available internet access in Bintulu or Miri. Blogging in Brunei may also be a challenge as in my imagination each Bruneian has their own solid gold, diamond encrusted, individual computer terminal and there is no need of internet cafes, and so they do not exist. My imagination is running a little wild though, so you can probably expect to hear from me in Brunei towards the end of the week at the latest.

It's day one hundred and fifty nine, and tonight I'm going for my hundred and fifty ninth dinner at a local restaurant called 'The Junk' with a Kuching kindergarten teacher and her friend from Taiwan (don't mention the Chinese - I did once but I think I got away with it).

Changing subject to books: they had a copy of a novel called Indecent Exposure by Tom Sharpe (my favourite author) at Le Village where I stayed recently, and I swapped it for my copy of The Heart of the Matter. I've zipped through it over the last week because it is unputdownable, one of the funniest books I've read. I've just swapped it with the owner of the B & B Inn here in Kuching for a copy of Tess of the D'Urbervilles. Think I can see it through, although reading the first chapter did feel a bit like being back in A Level English.

And finally, a note to self: time for another haircut. The old mane is getting away from me a bit. A short back and sides in Kuala Lumpur should do the trick.

Terimah Kasih!

kuching

Earlier this week I arrived safely in Kuching in Borneo after an easy flight and a reasonable in-flight meal. Once again I was relieved following touch down to find my luggage on the carousel, and an amenable immigration guard willing to let me in. Kuching is the starting point from which I will travel up Sarawak over the next few days until I reach Brunei.

I've found Kuching a pretty riverside city, which has warranted a fair bit of wandering round. British influence is very evident in this affluent and clean place. There are old colonial buildings, and British sounding street names (like Carpenter Street), and statues marking the long rule of the 'White Rajahs' (after helping quell a rebellion an Englishman called James Brooke was appointed hereditary Rajah of Sarawak in 1841, and his family ruled paternalistically on until 1946).

On Thursday I visited Fort Margherita, built by the Brooke's to protect Kuching from pirates, and found it something of a disappointment. A pretty white Victorian fort which has never been used in active combat, little has been made of it, and there was no-one around when I walked up - except for the waxwork guard on duty. On Friday I went to the Sarawak Museum and adjoining art gallery. Both are lovely and have absorbing and lively displays. Inside the main museum is amongst many other things the skeleton of a large whale, a reconstructed longhouse, and an exhibition on Shell Oil.

Saturday morning, as part of a tour with several other tourists, I went to the Semenggoh Orangutan Rehabilitation Centre, where twenty three native orangutans are being rehabilitated into the wild. Unfortunately the park keepers are doing such a good job that the apes didn't come out at feeding time and stayed in the wild of their reserve. I gazed into rainforest for nearly an hour and in the end only saw one rather large ant.

After we went on to an Iban longhouse. The Iban were the dreaded headhunters of Borneo* and now live as farmers and fisherman. For centuries they (and other local tribes) have lived in buildings known as a longhouses. The entire village community lives in a single dwelling which is built raised off the ground on stilts and divided into a public area along one side and a row of private living quarters along the other. It's hard for us Westerners to imagine such a style of living - it certainly felt very alien to me while I was there - but it seems to work well for the Iban of Borneo. It took several hours by mini-bus and a further hour by boat to reach the longhouse. Thirty five families live there and some have never left the village.

In the evening there was dancing and a rice whiskey drinking session in the public area. I drank my fair share and very much enjoyed it. Communication seemed to flow with the whiskey even though most of us could not speak each others languages. In the morning (we stayed overnight) we watched a cock fighting demonstration (minus the killer spikes) and then had a go shooting darts from Iban blow pipes. Blow pipes were once used to shoot poison tipped darts at enemies and hunted animals but today exist for tourists like me to fire into targets fixed to a post. I was pretty accurate and much more handy than I proved with an AK-47.

* The last Iban to cut someones head off as a trophy did so in 1970.