the end

Hello from Lowestoft. I'm home. This is my final blog entry. I left my hotel in Bangkok at 6am on 17 January in a taxi, and reached the airport around 7am. My flight left at 9.45am, took six and a half hours, and got me as far as Muscat in Oman. I then waited in Muscat for about three hours for my second flight to London (Heathrow) which took another eight and a half hours. Both flights left and arrived punctually, I didn't sleep on either, and no-one sat next to me on either so I was able to spread out across several seats and relax.

I touched down in London around 9pm (UK time) on 17 January, having gained back seven and a half hours due to time differences. The last train from London to Lowestoft left before 9pm, so I didn't try to make it all the way home that night. My friend Andrew met me at the airport and I stayed over at his place in nearby Englefield Green for the night. Once we'd dropped my bag off at his flat, we went for a couple of beers to catch up, re-aquaint, and debrief. I stayed over at Andrew's the night before I left the UK back in June, and we went for a couple of beers at the same pub on that night also (I wrote about it on this blog). Going back and doing the same on the way home gave nice symmetrical ending to things.

I caught the train home from Englefield Green to Lowestoft, via London, the next morning. I left around 7am and arrived back in Lowestoft early afternoon, at around 1.30pm. This journey took longer than expected because the train services were disrupted by high winds. By 1.40pm my Mum and Niece had picked me up from the train station, and I found myself finally at home. The adventure over. All complete.

It feels good to be back, if a bit surreal at the moment. It's been good to see everyone and I feel very happy to be 'home,' but it does feel odd being here, a strange feeling which I can't quite articulate.

Since I've been home, aside from catching up on some sleep following those flights, I've spent much of my time trying to remember how to do things like check and load credit on my mobile phone (I've remembered now - you dial '789'). I've also been to see my grandmother, sorted out the stuff in my back-pack a bit, all whilst trying to take in that my South East Asian jaunt is over. It's going to take a while to sink in. The big question now is: what next?

my last day

This is it: day two hundred and two, and blog number one hundred and one. The end. My last full day in South East Asia. I almost can't believe it.

It's been the trip of a lifetime, it really has, and the best seven months of my life without doubt. I'm facing one of those bitter sweet moments now: I'll be sad to leave it all behind, what an amazing part of the world South East Asia is, but I also can't wait to see home, my family, and my friends.

As it turns out, I faced one last trial this morning, my last I hope, when I was unable to get any money from the cash machines in Bangkok. My remaining travellers cheques bailed me out - I did need them after all - and have provided me with just enough to pay my hotel bill, get by today, and then over to the airport first thing tomorrow morning. The House of Bury is at last in order and ready to come home. Soon Bury will no longer be abroad.

I just wanted to say a big thank you to all those who've followed what I've been up to, and have emailed me with encouragement and kind words. I've really appreciated it, and it's really helped me to keep going.

I've learnt a lot on this trip, both about travelling and about myself, and I've messed plenty of things up too along the way. I suppose it was inevitable. But, as the late Peter Cook once said, 'I've learnt from my mistakes and I'm sure I can repeat them exactly.'

See you soon!

trip rundown

1. Trip Statistics

Countries visited: 8 (Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, Laos, The Philippines, Brunei, Malaysia, and Singapore).

Total days travelling: 200.

Bus journeys made: 40. Aeroplane journeys made: 7. Train journeys made: 5. Boat journeys made: 15. Mopeds hired: 1.

Total number of hotels stayed in: 53.

Beaches visited: 9. Mountain ranges/highlands visited: 6.

Currencies used: 9 (Baht, Riel, Dong, Kip, Peso, Ringgit, Singapore Dollar, Brunei Dollar, and the US Dollar). Average amount I spent day to day during the trip: 20USD.

Books read during the trip: 11.

Total disposable razors used: 8. Amount of times I've had my laundry done: 29. New items of clothing bought: 2 (a new t-shirt on my birthday in Laos, and a new pair of sandals in Malaysia).

Nervous breakdowns: 0.

2. Blog Statistics

Number of blog entries made: 100.

Length of blog: 58 000 words.

Number of photographs taken: 784.

3. Bests List

Best country overall: Vietnam.

Best city: Bangkok (Thailand). Best town: Luang Prabang (Laos). Best village: Kampung Ayer (Brunei).

Best Beach: Boracay (Philippines). Best mountain range: Sapa (Vietnam). Best natural wonder: Halong Bay (Vietnam). Best river: the Mekong Delta (Vietnam). Best historical building: Angkor Wat (Cambodia). Best modern building: Petronas Towers (Malaysia). Best royal palace: the Cambodian Royal Palace (Cambodia).

Best hotel stayed in: Mi Mi Hotel (Vietnam). Best bar: Reggae Bar in KL (Malaysia). Best beer: Tiger Beer (Singapore). Best restaurant: Brothers Cafe in Hanoi (Vietnam).

Best journey: the bus journey from Vietnam to Laos. Best transport used: Jeepney (Philippines).

Best activity: tubing in Vang Vieng (Laos). Best activity watched: Muay Thai kick boxing (Thailand). Best 'dubious' activity: firing a machine gun (Cambodia).

Best currency: dong (Vietnam). Best bargain: my open bus ticket across the whole of Vietnam (16 USD).

Best actor in a supporting role: Raj Chadha (UK).

4. Record breakers list

Angkor Wat (in Cambodia) - the world's largest religious building.

The Petronas Towers (in Malaysia) - the world's largest twin towers.

Istana Nural Iman (in Brunei) - the world's largest royal palace.

Taman Negara (in Malaysia) - the world's oldest rainforest (allegedly).

how to travel?

Over the last seven months I've travelled and moved around more than at any other time in my life. It's been a tremendous experience, and I've amassed some amazing memories. But aside from actually doing the travelling, I've also had the chance to investigate and think a bit about what back-packer travelling is about and how best - for me anyway - to go about it.

As I see it there are three main ways I can spend my time as a back-packer: a) seeing and observing things, like natural wonders, man-made buildings, or people and towns; b) engaging in activities like canoeing, hiking, cooking, teaching, or shooting machine guns; and c) relaxing and resting. The first two bring the most rewards, and ultimately seeing the sights is - for me - the most important. It's astonishing to go and look at buildings like Angkor Wat, the Petronas Towers, and at natural wonders like Halong Bay and the Taal Volcano. They're brilliant to go and witness and marvel at. Activities can be great fun to engage with and provide a different kind of stimulus. They involve physical and mental work and bring the reward of achievement. Relaxing is also important, and we all need to rest. There's no point wearing yourself down to nothing on a trip, you'll end up not enjoying anything. What's needed, I think, is a blend of all three with greater emphasis on the first two.

Should I travel alone or with a friend? There are good reasons in favour of doing both. The most obvious advantage of travelling alone is that there is no compromise involved: you go where you want to when you want to, and you concentrate hard on the place you are visiting. You also tend to make more new friends when you're on your own. You do this because you have to. If you don't you really are alone. Completely alone. I've been more sociable by necessity over the past seven months than I've ever been - it's done me a lot of good - and I've met some terrific people as a result, both back-packers and locals. However, travelling with a friend also brings benefits. The most obvious being: you have someone to share experiences with, someone there when things go wrong, and also someone to dissect and unpack things with: 'earlier today, did you notice...' It seems to me that travelling with a friend will always be easier* and possibly more fun, but you will be much, much more challenged on your own. I'm proud I've made this trip by myself and would like to travel solo again (although perhaps not for so long), and I'd also like to make future trips with friends too.

How far should I go off the beaten track? I'll be honest: I've been off the beaten track a lot less than I imagined I would at the beginning of this trip; it's something that's not always easy to do. I'm talking about throwing the Lonely Planet in the bin, and heading out to areas unvisited by any tourists and trying to live like a local. In reality, off the beaten track, in my limited experience, can mean nobody being able to communicate with you meaningfully, and such areas are usually untravelled for a reason - there's not much there to see or do. I like the idea very much in principle but have found it hard to carry through most of the time, and whenever I've ended up somewhere remote I've found it a real struggle to talk with people, a bit isolating, and lacking in things for me to engage with, look at, or understand. Maybe I've missed out a bit and should have tried harder with this, but it just hasn't come naturally to me, and I suspect it won't in future either.

What sort of attitude should I have when I travel? Philosophical and calm seems best. Be prepared for things to go wrong, and when they do act Buddhist. I need to remember it will make an interesting memory once I've got through it, and that I might even learn something about how to cope better with setbacks and challenging situations. Looking back, my most interesting experience on the this trip was when I got stranded for over fifty hours (because of typhoon related landslides) on a bus at the Vietnam/Laos border. Everyone else on the bus was from Laos and only one person could speak English. At first I became stressed and weary (especially as my Vietnamese Visa had only hours before it expired), but slowly the situation turned into the most magical of experiences. Being stranded forced me to start getting to know the people on the bus, and by the end of the journey I felt like they were all family - even if half our communication was through single words and hand gestures. As we got to know each other they insisted on buying me meals from the roadside, introduced me to Beer Laos, sticky rice, and beef laab, and began teaching me to speak a few words in their language. Experiences like that can turn out to be pure gold if you keep your head.

How long should I spend visiting a country? I think a good month is needed to explore most countries, but after that I begin to feel saturated and struggle to take more in. Small places like Brunei and Singapore are obvious exceptions, because they are just too tiny to spend that much time wandering around.

How careful should I be? I wouldn't advocate taking a holiday in Iraq right now but also feel it's important not to be frightened off visiting places unduly. Risks should be assessed carefully but we lose out if we are too cautious. I'm in Thailand, as I write, which has recently been bombed and subject to a military coup, but I feel perfectly safe here. On balance, I've judged it safe enough to come back for my last few days and I've had no problems. It's also important to be willing and unafraid to meet and engage with new people whilst abroad I think. It's frighteningly easy not to, and many people go to new countries without ever really speaking to a local person. This reminds me of Danielle (one of the girls Raj and I went out with on New Years Eve). In Danielle's presence I exchanged some banter with a street seller who'd jokingly called me 'handsome.' She shocked me by saying after, 'I can't believe you actually talk to them,' as though Malaysian street hawkers were space aliens. 'I just keep my head down and keep going,' she said. I think she's missing out with that attitude. In regard to food and being careful: I've come to think that it's important to just try it and not worry about the consequences. If you're sick for a few days so be it.

How should I get around whilst abroad? By using as many and as varied modes of transport on the ground as possible. This is part of the fun. Riding on old local buses, tourist minibuses, motorbike and sidecars, tuk tuks, mopeds, bicycles, and trains is all part of the experience. I plan in future to continue my habit of not flying where practical because, aside from being murder on the environment, it's also a very sanitised and boring way to move around. You can't see anything except the flight cabin, and fly over (and miss) the country you're supposed to be visiting.

What type of accommodation should I stay in? I say keep it basic but not squalid. Basic for me means a clean room with a clean bed to sleep in and a reasonable lock on the door. That's it. Squalid means rats, cockroaches, plywood walls, and filth. My room is just a place to sleep or grab a quick rest in between looking around and finding out about the place I'm visiting, and as such I don't need or require much. I also think that expensive posh rooms can be a disadvantage: you end up spending too much time in them lying down or watching television, or in the hotel bar, and that's not why I'm abroad. There's a place for pampering and it's on a health farm in Hertfordshire.

What should I take on a trip? There's no doubt in my mind that as little as possible is best. It's hard work packing, unpacking, and carrying your back-pack, and the lighter it is the better. It is better to have less valuables to worry about, less clothes to get washed, and less weight on your back. My most valuable possessions on this trip have been my digital camera and a good pair of sandals.

What should I bring back? I think it's a bit pointless going overboard with souvenirs, especially on a long trip - you end up having to carry them around everywhere you go and worry about breaking them if they are delicate. My strategy has been to leave the tourist nik naks out and instead keep this blog diary, take a manageable amount of photographs, and I've also kept hold of a lot of my old ticket stubs (and such like) which I will put in an album when I get home. These are my souvenirs, and the advantage they have over a wooden Buddha statues is that they tell me where I've been and in many cases the date I went. They can bring back memories, so on further trips I will approach this the same way.

Finally, why should I bother to travel? For education more than anything: to learn new things and see as much as possible of amazing places and different ways of life (and compare them with my own). But also to challenge myself. Can I drink snakes blood? Can I sleep in a longhouse? Can I handle it if I see a scorpion in the jungle at Taman Negara? How far can I go from home? How long for? What can I cope with and what are my limits? I've hit several limits on this trip and have found it fascinating to learn more about what they are and in consequence more about myself. And, you know, a nice side effect of boundary testing is that it often gives you extra confidence. You can come out of it knowing: I can drink snakes blood, I can sleep in a longhouse, I can stand with a scorpion at my feet, I can fly six thousand miles from home, and stay for seven months and survive. It's at the very least interesting, and at the most very useful, to know.

The end. If you couldn't be bothered to read all this and just skipped straight down here remember at least this if you go away: get yourself a good pair of sandals and camera and try and behave yourself...you're a guest in their country.

* Assuming you don't end up getting on each other's nerves, which can be very easy if you're spending twenty four hours a day with someone.

last tango in bangkok

I've made it back to Bangkok. It took me two trains and thirty six hours to get up here. The first train was from Kuala Lumpur to Hat Yai (a border town in Southern Thailand) and took a bit over fifteen hours. I then stood/sat/laid on the station platform for five hours until the train from Hat Yai to Bangkok arrived and jumped straight on it when it did. It came two hours later than scheduled and took another sixteen hours before pulling into Bangkok. The journey wasn't as bad as it sounds, because I was able to sleep comfortably through the night on both trains. Both journeys were smooth and largely uneventful, and made very bearable by fold down beds and air-conditioning. This way of doing things also had the advantage that I didn't need to pay for two nights of accommodation - the train was my hotel on both Tuesday and Wednesday nights.

After I arrived in Bangkok I checked into the Four Sons Hotel, a hotel just behind Khao San Road, and a cut above my usual choices - it has air-conditioning, a television, and a private bathroom with hot running water. Khao San Road itself is much as I remember it although there is more security on show at the moment, which I take to be a consequence of the Christmas bombings. Each end of the road has been barriered and at night people are periodically searched as they enter and exit. There are lots of army guys with machine guns wandering up and down, and I've also heard a number of police helicopters hovering over-head, suggesting further that the Thai authorities are on red alert.

Once I'd had a shower, and a bit of a rest on my bed, it was early evening and I went out to a local bar I like called Hippie De Bar, and had a couple of beers to relax and celebrate having made it to my final stop before home. I really felt them after. I only had the equivalent of about three pints but still had quite a hangover this morning, and was sufficiently spaced out when I returned to the hotel after for the cheeky receptionist to ask me how many fingers she was holding up before she would give me my room key (she was holding up three and I got it right). This highlights a fact of which I have been aware for sometime: my drinking tolerance has slowly been ebbing away over the last six/seven months because, although I do often have beer, it is usually served to me in bottles (pints are pretty much unavailable out here) and I mostly have had only one or two per sitting. I'll have to do some work when I get home at rebuilding my capacity. Bit of practice and hopefully I'll be back.

This morning I went to the dentist and had my teeth checked, cleaned, and polished. It was good to learn that they are still in good working order, and wonderful to have them nice and clean again. They were beginning to feel the effects of backpacking and electric toothbrush deprivation. While I was there I asked the dentist if he thought I should consider having my teeth whitened. I was pleased to be told that he thought it really not necessary. I then went on to a beauty salon where I had my hair washed and cut, my feet pedicured (my hard and worn feet are now magically soft again), my hands manicured, finishing off with a full body massage. I feel like a new man, as the actress said to the bishop. I've also bought a nice photograph album for my trip pictures, and have begun looking at what I can chuck out of my back-pack. The House of Bury is slowly getting itself into order.

good vibrations

After writing my blog entry yesterday evening I went over to my favourite haunt in KL, the Reggae Bar on Jalan Tun HS Lee, for a last couple of Carlsberg beers, and to toast Malaysia before leaving.

I've come to feel very fondly about the Reggae Bar over the last month; in fact it's probably my favourite bar in South East Asia. Time and again it's provided me with cool sanctuary whilst I've been hopping in, out, and around Malaysia, Singapore, and Borneo, and it was also the venue for part of my New Year's Eve celebrations. The bar staff have got to know me a bit, and one woman in particular, called Emmy, sees to it that my glass always gets refilled before it is empty whenever I am resident for a few hours. The low lighting at night time allows you limited vision of the grey stone floor and the green walls which are covered with framed Bob Marley memorabilia. At the back is a pool table and outside the front entrance a small stall selling pizza. It's nicely done out, it has to be said.

They played Bob Marley's greatest hits on frequent repeat last night, but also fitted in lots of other music too: Malaysian Ska for a while, and stuff like Massive Attack and that song which has the chanting monks - can't remember what it's called, but you know the one I'm talking about. 'Red Red Wine' by UB40 came on around midnight, and I was very pleased to hear it. Last year when I did some travelling across Indonesia with my friend Raj we seemed to hear UB40 in every bar we went to, leading us to eventually feel short changed if we went somewhere and it wasn't played. Hearing it last night brought back happy memories of Jakarka, Kuta, and Lovina Beach - another great holiday I've been lucky to have.

They consistently get their prices wrong in the Reggae Bar (this is something you have to watch) and you get charged a different amount for a beer each time you go in, and sometimes as frequently as each time you order. This got on my nerves a bit to begin with, but I've come to find it endearing and I accept it now as part of the charm of the place. Last night I was charged yet another price, ten ringgit a beer, which is lower than the last time I went in but higher than some other previous occasions. The difference is negligible to my English purse so I can't say as I care all that much.

I feel rather sad that it's unlikely I'll ever go back to the Reggae Bar again, but I can at least recommend the experience to others who might be passing through - so if you're ever in Kuala Lumpur I suggest you pop in, say hello to Emmy, buy yourself a couple of beers, and enjoy the Marley-fest. Here is their address should thoust require it:

http://www.reggaebarkl.com/main.php

taman negara

I left the Pudu Hostel for Taman Negara, the world's oldest rainforest, at 7.45am on Saturday morning. I was driven up by two Malay brothers as were a Dutch couple called Arnaud and Danielle, an Australian couple called Matt and Danielle, and a Swedish woman called Anna. The first part of the journey was by minibus and took us to the town of Jerantut. This took about three hours. Then at Jerantut Jetty we got on a longtail boat and rode up into Taman Negara itself. This took another two hours along wide brown river bordered by thick, tall, and lush green jungle undergrowth. Most visitors to Taman Negara stay at Kuala Tahan, a small village nestled on the edge of the park, and it was here that we eventually arrived late afternoon.

After a brief rest I went on a jungle night walk with Herman, a brilliant local guide, and everyone who had been on the minibus decided to come along with me. They made the right decision because we saw quite a few things creeping along in the undergrowth with our torches: snakes, all manner of frightening insects, and even some deer. Most exciting, and most frightening, was the large black scorpion we encountered. Herman coaxed him out of his hole and he ended up standing right in front of my feet with his claws snapping. It took all my inner-resolve not to cry like a baby, or jump into Herman's arms, but I managed somehow to stay calm until we moved on. I'm pleased to say that I coped again later when we saw several enormous spiders (tarantula sized monsters) although I kept my distance as much as I could...just in case.

Day two got off to a bad start when I accidentally dropped my watch down the squat toilet in my dormitory. It shot straight down the hole and disappeared without a trace. Gone forever, another fallen soldier, off to join my old flip flops in backpacker equipment heaven. This bad start marked the beginning of a challenging day, the main challenge turning out to be the bad weather. It poured down. All day. It rained and rained and rained. It rained so hard that the brown water level of the river rose steadily, noticeably, and significantly. I plugged on with activities regardless and went 'rapid shooting' with Herman and the others. We also visited an Orang Asli tribal village where I was able to have another go on a blow pipe (my aim has deteriorated since my last effort in Borneo) and watched a guy actually make a blow pipe dart. That was very interesting. Eventually, mid-afternoon, I gave up and went back to the guesthouse and just sat on the front porch feeling wet and - excuse my language - pissed off. I had been supposed to go on the park canopy walk in the afternoon but there was no hope of this - they close it off during heavy rain. This was a big disappointment, but, as we all know: you win some and you lose some.

On day three, I made the journey back down through the rivers of Taman Negara and then back on to the minibus. Anna, Danielle, and Matt came back with me, and Arnaud and Danielle headed north for Penang. The same two brothers picked us at the Jerantut Jetty. The older of the two asked me how it went. I told him, 'I went out there a boy but came back a man,' pausing for gravitas and then adding, 'I'm a hunter now.' He laughed (in my face) and said, 'now the jungle your supermarket uh.'

Whilst in Taman Negara at Kuala Tahan I stayed in a dormitory at the Tahan Guesthouse. The place was painted all different colours and had signs all over the place written on which were things like 'you have to be awake to live your dreams,' and 'life is a journey.' It was Taman Negara meets Woodstock. The strange thing about this though, was that the owners didn't seem to be hippy types as far as I could make out. In fact, they seemed to be a fairly straightlaced Malay family. So why all the 'dream catchers' and primary colours? Far out man.

Also to note: I stroked a python whilst up in the jungle. Not out in the deep of woods as you would imagine, but in a floating restaurant while I was having breakfast and a cup of tea (not masala tea). A local guy walked in with it round his neck, saying that he'd 'found it' in his bedroom the night before. I gave it a stroke but declined the offer of drapping it about my person. He then took it off to the restaurant next door and showed it to a toddler who kept touching it and screaming.

the last leg

Captain's log:

star date - 05.01.07

location - Kuala Lumpur

weather - bloody hot

Sat next to the computer terminal on which I type are two tickets. The first is for a three day jungle trekking trip to Taman Negara (Malaysia's most famous national park). It records that I leave tomorrow morning at 8am, am entitled to 'economy shared' accommodation in the park, and that I will be returned by bus to KL on the evening of 8 January. The second is a one way second class train ticket to Thailand. This ticket records that I will depart from Kuala Lumpur on the evening of 9 January arriving in Hat Yai some fourteen hours later. Between them they give you an outline of the plans I've made today, and a rough picture of my next four or five days.

It's been an administrative day as you can perhaps tell. I spent the morning riding a bus back up to Kuala Lumpur, having first had a dosa (aka dosai, thosai, or dhosa) with masala tea for breakfast (thanks for getting me hooked Raj). I got back to KL around 12pm, booked the above tickets, and also checked myself into the Pudu Hostel. It's competitively priced, I'll give it that, but I'm not sure the chi is right. If I remember my Feng Shui rightly: ideally buildings should be located in front of a mountain and behind a stream. The Pudu manages neither. Its rooms are located on the third floor of an old office block building opposite the bus station. I appreciate it may not be practical to run a river through Jalan Pudu now, or build a mountain behind, but they could bung a few more plant pots in reception and get some new throws for the sofas. Until they do - bad energy.

Yesterday was pretty uneventful. Except that whilst at the Dutch Cemetery in Melaka, I was compared to Daniel Craig.

Find something funny?

I suppose to be fair the comparison was made by a complete nutter. He accosted me at the entry gate and also told me that he had met Princess Margaret in Harrods, that the Da Vinci code was all lies, that he had ridden a horse through Hyde Park, rounding up by asking: did I have any idea how to find a telephone line to Jesus? His ramblings went on for about half an hour, while I tried to find a polite way to remove myself, but no break in the stream of verbal incontinence ever came, so in the end I just had to say as best I could that I was leaving and goodbye. 'You think I bullshit. You think this bullshit! CANNOT BULLSHIT THIS!!' was how we left things. He gave me a headache so I went over the bridge to Chinatown, and had a quiet sit down and a Coca Cola.

It's just started thundering outside. I'm glad. It hasn't rained for ages in my vicinity and it will be good for the heat to break. I'll blog again when I return from Taman Negara.

what next?

I imagine Richard Sharpe (the Napoleonic soldier played by Sean Bean on ITV) would like Melaka. There's an old Portugese fort here he could ransack, a local bar called Jessie's where he could drink Tiger Beer the night before battle, and plenty of beautiful local women wandering around for him to effortlessly ravish. I'm just embarking on my second day here, and I certainly like the place. I've discovered Melaka has an interesting history, and a vibrant, if compact, cultural scene. My last entry, which suggested Melaka is lacking in atmosphere, was a bit rash because once you get into the historical city centre and Chinatown it's a lovely place and definitely worth a day or two of wandering about.

I was in uber-tourist mode yesterday and knocked off most of the sites on foot. To give you a quick run down: I went to the Melaka Sultanate Palace, Stadthuys (the former residence of the governor), St Paul's Church, Christ Church, St Francis Xavier's Church, Port Da Santiago, Cheng Hoon Temple, and all over Little India and Chinatown. I enjoyed visiting the Melaka Sultanate Palace (which is a replica) the most. An enormous and beautiful wooden stilt house, it was built without using a single nail. All of these buildings sit around the town square, and are all pretty much next door to one another, so it wasn't hard to nip in and out of them all.

Nonetheless by late afternoon I was feeling tired, and so went into a nearby shopping mall with the idea of going to the cinema to get off my feet. On my way in a toddler walked in front of me looking rather serious and concentrating hard. She was holding her mum's mobile to her ear. It wasn't switched on, and I think she may have had it upside down, but this didn't seem to matter. She was making an important business call, and thinking hard on it. This sent me in to the screening of 'Night at the Museum' with a smile on my face. I enjoyed the film - it's very far fetched but who cares, and it got me and the Malay audience laughing several times.

I've received several emails asking what I'm doing next, and more specifically when I'm coming home. As you may have picked up: my trip, which is now tipping seven months and eight countries, is almost - finally - over. I fly back from Bangkok to the UK on 17 January. This leaves me enough time to finish off here in Melaka, go on to Taman Negara, and catch a train up into Thailand. I'll spend my last four or five days in Bangkok (back where I started) reflecting on everything that's happened to me and preparing myself to come home. Once home, I'll be heading back to my Mum and Dad's house (in Lowestoft) for a break and a rest, and to give my Mum a hug.

So what next? I'm not quite sure is the honest answer. If I get home and feel enough has been enough I will take a few weeks break and then start looking for a job and a return to normal life. However, if once home I have itchy feet again I will start planning a second shorter trip somewhere (I still have sufficient funds remaining to do this). A part of me would like to do this and thinks this may be an ideal time, but another part of me feels very tired and wonders if perhaps I haven't had enough of travelling now for a while. My tiredness is now outwardly visible too - my wallet has almost fallen in half, my digital camera is malfunctioning, my back-up credit card has been cancelled by Barclays, my brown diary (used for recording my day to day tasks) only has a couple of pages left unwritten, and I'm down to my last razor (I've used only eight disposable razors since 28 June believe it or not). Anyway, ultimately, coming home, and discovering how I feel about being back home, will make the decision for me as to whether I do a bit more travelling or move on and back to 'life.' That's the most I can say right now.

But the trip's not over just yet. It's time I got out of this internet cafe and saw a bit more of Melaka...

down to melaka

Raj left for the airport last night, and - if my calculations are correct - he will have touched down at Heathrow by now. I was sad to see him go, but we had a good run through West Malaysia and for that I must be thankful. Cheers Raj!

Kuala Lumpur bus station had the atmosphere of the New York Stock Exchange this morning when I went in to buy a one way ticket down to Melaka. It was manic.

While I was waiting in the queue a guy tried to push in front of me. I closed ranks and blocked his way. He kept on pushing. I kept blocking. He kept pushing. I should have said 'do you mind?' and he should have said: 'let me through,' but neither of us said a thing. We just kept pushing and blocking each other. Pushing and blocking. Nobody said a word. This dragged out for a while until, in the end, I decided it wasn't worth it and let him through. The woman at the counter then refused to serve him - he only had a fifty ringgit note and she couldn't change it. So he had to leave empty handed. I, on the otherhand, had a more manageable ten in my pocket and got my ticket no problem. I gave him a big broad false smile as he left. Victory does sometimes favour the meek.

I got to Melaka around 3.30pm, having left KL at 12.30pm. The bus dropped me at Sentral Bus Station, which is conveniently located seven kilometres outside of the city. With little choice in the matter, I caught a taxi into the city centre, congratulating the driver on the way for not owning a boring Proton like all the rest. He drove a Toyota Crown. 'Protons,' he muttered back contemptously, shaking his head. He took me to my guesthouse via most of Melaka's historical and noteworthy sites, giving me an informative running commentary on everything as we went. By the time we arrived I almost felt like asking him to make it a round circuit, and to just drop me straight back at the bus station. Instead I elected to give Melaka a little longer and decided I would stay as planned for two or three days.

I'm staying at Sunny's Guesthouse (Room 11) which, at sixteen ringgit a night, is my cheapest accommodation in Malaysia yet. It's quite nice for the money and well located for sites and amenities. As I write Sunny is washing all my underwear and t-shirts.

Tomorrow I'll begin having a proper look around Melaka, and hope to get a better view of the place. My initial impression is that it is quite nice but a bit lifeless and lacking in atmosphere. It's one of those towns, it seems, where the streets are wide, well spaced, and cleanly swept, but nobody seems to be on them. Where's the action?

new year in kuala lumpur

Happy New Year and welcome to 2007. I survived New Year's Eve, and am in surprisingly good condition today. No serious hangover, or enforced retreat to my bed this year. In fact I feel the best I've felt for many a New Year's Day.

I had a good time last night: things worked very well considering how unplanned it all was. There were four of us altogether who went out: me, Raj, and two British girls we met called Danielle and Liz (the former is on her way to Korea, and the latter is about to fly to Sydney). We started off drinking a few Carlsberg's in the Reggae Bar and then walked down to the hustle and bustle of Bintang Walk where we had a few more before moving on to the Petronas Towers for the midnight firework displays. The displays were spectacular and very loud; a big crowd was gathered. After midnight we walked our way slowly back to the Reggae Bar and had a few more drinks finally calling it quits around 4am.

I've enjoyed doing something different this year, and being somewhere different for a change, and wouldn't mind doing something like this again in the future. New Year's Eve is generally so hyped that it often ends up being an expensive anti-climax. I'm glad that hasn't been the case this year.

Today is Raj's last day in Malaysia, and my last before going solo again. We've completed all our points of business, so we're just relaxing at the Hotel China Town Inn. Raj fly's back to Heathrow this evening, and I'm going to leave KL by bus tomorrow - I'll be heading two hours south to my next stop: a visit the historical city of Melaka where I will stay for a few days.

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.