Ubud-40

Eat Pray Love has a lot to answer for. As I wander the streets of ubud, getting lured into buying silk scarves at every corner, and dodging the yoga mats, I'm struck by how the town does seem a parody of itself. There are women aged 30-60 trying to find themselves though equally finding each other I hope. Every kitsch "kafe" is offering wheatgrass shakes as the perfect post yoga drink. Whole food salads and organic brownies are on most menus in all the trendy lunch spots. Yoga wear adorned with ganesh's face stares out of shiny glass shop fronts and only the uneven sloping pavement tripped me into remembering I wasn't in Islington.
It has its place in the backpacker circuit. It has the most interesting assembly of accommodation, set up like a series of Buddhist temples hidden amongst winding alleyways opening into small courtyards like a oasis behind the noisy streets. Bungalow doors are intricately carved with Hindu beauties adding a sense of magic every time they are opened to the morning sun. Breakfasts are served to your terrace, and there is hot tea ready and waiting day and night.
It's hard not to be charmed though I guess in my usual style, it's not without some cynicism as to what our tourist searches have resulted in. As the yoga fiends demanded fruit smoothies, I'm offered "detox" concoctions at London prices, something that I doubt your average Balinese citizen would ever request. The traditional warung and street side vendors with their fresh, good value fare, enjoyed by taxi drivers across the country, are no where to be seen having given way to bottled-water washed salads with 15% service charge and tax.
I do not see any recognition of the irony in the eyes of those men and women out to find peace by immersing themselves in the hills of a tropical island that they've recreated the very towns they've come from. There's a Starbucks for god's sake! As if life can't function without that daily skinny latte after a hard day's haggling over batik saris and wooden penis keyrings. [Perhaps there are sexual repression issues bubbling under the surface in this town too given the number of wooden penises that we spied on our wanderings. I even saw a giant wooden turtle with a penis for a head - that was just disturbing and completely unnecessary. Who comes to Ubud to buy that?]
As with so many other places I've been, I guess I would have loved to see the original charm of the town that made people first stop here - I don't think it was for stretchy yoga wear and silk dressing gowns though I don't deny that I enjoyed browsing for them. The place had charm, though perhaps a little less soul than I could uncover from 3 short days.

Chasing the sun set

It's hard to leave the beach. I can see why some can idle away weeks in beach towns, why they could miss a flight by losing track of what day it is. I think I've been in Gili Trawangan for 4 days but it could be 5. If I wasn't meeting a friend for a birthday weekend of Bali pampering, 5 could merge to 7 to 10, every day deciding to the same as the day before - namely, amble to the beach, grab a snorkel, go searching for turtles and tropical fish, and when the need calls, heading to our favourite icecream place to race against the sun before the pistachio, caramel or rum and raisin melts.

The evenings however are an opportunity to explore the tiny island with a very specific mission: to find the perfect sunset. We've gone north, south, west. We've gone to beaches and climbed lookouts. We've watched across oceans, looked down mountains, and sat on low tides. It gives us purpose and ambition. And photos that will never do the reality justice.

We've also been aided by technology, mapping the stars with a smartphone as night draws in to uncover constellations and planets and fill us with a sense of wonder at the scale of the universe.

It will be sad to leave my sunset watching buddies, knowing exactly what they'll be doing for the next few days, but it's time to move on and see what sunsets I can find from another angle. Save my waistline too from all that delicious icecream. At least for a day or two anyway...

Into the heart of darkness...

I would do well to be reading Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness as I meander up the black river through the jungle of Indonesia's Tanjung Puting National Park. I could well liken the experience to exploring the depths of the Congo as for the majority of my 3-day trip, I have seen very little traffic deluding me slightly that I am on my own out here (aside from my guide, 2 man crew and incredibly diligent chef). That is until we reach the orangutan feeding stations at feeding time when all the boats emerge from their murky corners armed with SLRs aplenty to watch the spectacle. Though there's still less than a dozen of us and we're easily outnumbered by the primates.

Although my tourist comrades and I join forces at designated times, my personal guide Jenie (yes private boat is the only viable option and Kalimantan is not the easiest spot to find other backpackers it turns out) has gone to great lengths to conduct walks and find moorings where we can be alone amongst nature.

Ok, the orangtutan encounters are a little contrived given there are feeding times and places to help these semi wild creatures survive as their habitat is rapidly eroded. But goodness, it's still an awesome and intimidating sight to see a fully grown male orangtutan dominate whilst he defends his dinner. And seeing a baby orangtutan clinging to its mother as she swings amongst the vines, or watching them link feet in the trees. I've also had the dubious fortune of seeing a rather hefty male overestimate the strength of a vine and come crashing out of the sky!

As well as orangutans, I've seen the proboscis monkey, also endemic to Borneo, long tail macaques, silver leaf monkey, maroon leaf monkey, wild boar, water monitor lizard and countless bird species. My guide is a bit of an avid bird watcher so he's been luring them with bird calls and has an amazing eye for spotting the wily creatures before handing me the binoculars and watching me struggle to see anythin amongst the leaves.

I've been immensely well fed too - each mealtime consists of at least 4 dishes and a fruit finish, of which I can barely consume half of what's put in front of me. It is another reason why I would value a companion, as food waste greatly distresses me. And I feel like a maharaja, or more appropriately a maharani, being waited on in this manner - a feeling I'm not entirely comfortable with.

Food waste aside, it's been an excellent trip so far. I'm eager to see if the fireflies sparkle tonight like fairylights in the trees, and if the stars will reveal themselves as full blanket of sequins as they did last night. Though I'm equally hoping, rather optimistically, that the bugs might leave me alone. I am covered in bites. They even attacked my collarbone yesterday despite copious amounts of repellent and smoke deterrent. That is definitely one thing to look forward to about returning to Blighty - perhaps it was the itching and not the jungle that turned old Kurtz mad in the end. Though I think Indonesia's heart of darkness, with all its beautiful and fascinating creatures, is a much nicer way to go.

Whacky Races, Jakarta style

Driving through Jakarta feels a lot like Whacky Races. It's all about weaving and dodging, and has a jerking stop start quality that is bound to induce whiplash. It also echoes that feeling of never really getting anywhere despite continually moving.

Despite this, and a general perception of there not really being anything to do in Jakarta, my first impressions of Indonesia are highly positive. The immigration queue was efficient, the visa sticker was small (my passport pages are becoming increasingly precious), the airport staff were friendly and the bus into town was straightforward (having had clear instructions from my hostel). I even managed a little banter with the tuk tuk driver having spent the flight learning the numbers. The hostel was lovely, and a real step up from the hovel I ended up in on my previous night in Bangkok, which was a windowless box, with dirty sheets and had an ingrained smell of cigarette smoke. That Indonesian food is delicious also helps: yesterday I enjoyed a healthy and filling meal of veg and chicken in a soupy garlic sauce (cap cai ayam), and made a very slight dent into a 4-inch thick sweet crumpet-like pancake, stuffed with melted chocolate, nuts and condensed milk. I got about a quarter through it before being overwhelmed and handing out little bites of diabetes inducing sweetness to fellow travellers. Way to make friends as well as quench my chocolate cravings.

There are also some similarities with Malaysia which is somehow comforting and familiar, namely in language and in some of the food. I'm making a conscious effort to learn some Bahasa Indonesian, not least because the Latin script makes it easier to decipher and a few weeks in Malaysia gave me some simple words (like thank you and deciphering some foods on the menu). It has been well received so far even I get the words wrong or my pronunciation is off. I feel that I have been very lazy to date in only getting as far as "thank you" in most countries so far, though no amount of effort will make Australian make sense ("goon" for box wine, schooner as a measure of alcohol... Crazy talk!)

I'm excited to be in Indo though. Two weeks on the Thai islands were certainly fun, soaking up the beautiful beach scenery, interspersed with plenty of dancing, neon paint and enjoying the novelty of drinking from a bucket. As beautiful as the sunrises were however, it's nice to be awake during the daytime again! And to be interacting a bit more with residents, rather than shouting over trance beats.

Now, I'd better get back to holding on to my seat. I don't think "drive to arrive" is a well known concept here... And my latest host includes "don't drive fast, I don't want to die" as an essential Bahasa phrase. Safety first!

Getting "wat" in Cambodia

I was quite determined to get to Cambodia in time for Khmer new year in mid April. Although Thailand is the best place to experience Buddhist new year, know as Songkran, where the streets become a huge city wide water fight especially in Chiang Mai, my route was taking me to Cambodia via Vietnam and the idea of a local festival deeply intrigued me.

Sadly, Cambodia has a more subdued version of the festival with most people heading to their home villages for the national holiday making services more intermittent. Phnom Penh was actually quieter than usual with a more limited menu and fewer services available, rather than more raucous - though the city's temples were seeing plenty of action with worship and song ringing through the city streets.

However, given the week long celebrations, our detour to the colonial city of Battambang proved more lively. We headed out to the local temples encountering hordes of children and teenagers armed with buckets and balloons of water aimed at each other and passers by. It was a delight to watch the revelry and get soaked by a well aimed balloon as we scootered past in a tuk tuk - a welcome relief from the blistering 38'C heat.

By the time we arrived in Siem Reap most of the week long celebrations seemed to be finished. We'd missed the ceremonies and processions in the ancient temples of Angkor Wat, but nothing could detract from their awe inspiring nature.

Wandering the ruins and the restoration, I wondered whether people would take longer or be quicker in their visits as a result of digital cameras - there is the opportunity for almost endless pictures without the limitations of carrying film; but there's also the possibility of a click and go mentality without needing to form and hold the memories for the shots you might miss. I took nearly 100 pictures in the temples myself, but I did try to put my camera down and see it through my eyes as well as the lens. The beautiful pink, red and blue hues of sunset over pyramid ruins, and the soft golden light of dusk highlighting carved stone and bas reliefs had a beautiful awe inspiring quality. With a little imagination, you could picture the peace found for locals, monks and kings alike, even with us numerous tourists clambering over the ruins like ants.

Coffee and noodles

It's 555am. I've just arrived on the sleeper train from Nha Trang to Saigon, and walked the length of the street to find my hostel. Unfortunately, despite my email indicating an arrival time of 5am, the place isn't open and rapping at the door has proven futile. I am quite sleep deprived. Despite being a more comfortable way to take overnight transport, I have failed to get more then 3 stilted hours of sleep. The strange cocoon like setup of the sleeper bus and its more cramped conditions actually led to a better night's sleep and it was a third of the price. The continual jerking motion of the train, the inclination of my carriage companions to turn on all the lights at 3am and continue their conversation, and the wake up call of Vietnamese opera at 445am, culminated in less sleep than hoped. Oh well. I have made it as far as Saigon and am settled on a larger than usual plastic chair enjoying an iced coffee and observing the bustle of the city at dawn's early light.

I am continually impressed by the level of activity at dawn in Vietnam. On arriving into Nha Trang at 6am, the roads were already hectic and the beach scene was full of people frolicking in the sea. From my vantage point near the local market in Saigon, I can see women buying their groceries and streetside butchers preparing cuts of meat for their day's customers. The flower seller has already made her first sale of white lillies, and the morning joggers are weaving through streetstalls and scooters to secure their exercise for the day.

The coffee is damn good, as is most of the food in this comma shaped country. I've grown rather accustomed to the sickly sweetness of condensed milk to offset the rich, dark coffee and I'm not sure my subtle beloved English tea will be able to live up to its fullsome competitor on my return. My risk of diabetes has also increased in line with my sugar rich Vietnamese diet of juices and sauces with the obligatory extra spoon of sweetness.

The food has equally been incredible. Apart from the bland, repetitive dinners on the boat in Halong Bay, I've not had a bad meal. From the do it yourself nature of Bun Cha (roasted pork patties, with rice noodles and salad in broth), to the 8 course fine dining of the Ly Club in Hanoi (for <£20 per head), I've sampled claypots where the meat melts in your mouth, all forms of noodles in their varying guises, rice pancakes, wontons, summer rolls, Banh Mi in fresh crusty French baguettes and plenty of Pho (noodle soup). Amazing! Kingsland Road in east London is going to have a new regular. And maybe I've got just enough space for a coffee filter and some local beans in my bag too. Yum! 2 more days in Vietnam and plenty more food and drink to be consumed yet. Just as well I'be started the day at 6am then!

Sleep by any other name

This has to be the bizarrest bus I've taken to date. It certainly is designed for sleeping. 36 seats reclined at a 45 degree angle, arranged in 3 rows and 2 levels. If you were claustrophobic, there's definitely potential for cabin fever, as you're forced to lie flat, witg your feet enclosed in the space in front of you, which is also where i'be wedged my small bag as there's no other storage. It's how I imagine the Japanese pod hotels might be, though with better views and more backpackers.

Anyway, I'm intrigued to see how I sleep on this for my $13, 12 hour journey from Hoi An to Nha Trang. I've already booked my onward sleeper train to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon), so this may be my first and last Vietnamese sleeper bus. Good to mix it up a little!

And we're off, 15 mins early. The driver has switched on the blue and red strip disco lights and the attendant has handed out the blankets. I'm just waiting for the karaoke and badly dubbed / subtitled films now. Woop!

Sweating it out on Highway 1

We're crawling up hills and through tunnels continuing our journey along the coast in Vietnam. This leg takes us from historic Hue down to world heritage and tailoring heaven of Hoi An, and is so far proving significantly sweatier than our preceding ones. The bus has probably seen better days, and for the first time in my travels I'm not freezing my limbs off due to overenthusastic air conditioning. We've kept the curtains shut for most of it to protect us from the sun, but can final emerge as the sun moves overhead, enabling us to peek out as the coastline comes into view. And what a lovely view too - in keeping with the rest of the vistas we've encountered to date in Vietnam, though this one has coastline as well as paddy fields.

Hue was a pleasant place to pass a day - though wandering the Citadel in the mid-30s heat was in stark contrast to when I visited the Imperial Palace in Beijing which the structure was modelled on, where I was freezing in temperatures below -12'C. The palaces and temples are being lovingly restored after half a century of decay and the Tet offensive during the Vietnam war amongst other battles since 1805. My eye wasn't well trained enough to spot the scars from bullet holes in the city walls, distracted as I was by the tranquility of the gardens fringed with frangipani trees. We cooled ourselves in the heat with local flavoured ice-cream bars, and on a second eating, I was less enamoured with the sulphur smelling fruit durian, than I first thought. The flavour certainly does linger...

So onwards to Hoi An, the tailoring capital of Vietnam. I'm bracing myself to be overwhelmed by the options and be taken away with the frenzy of cheap clothing. Let's hope I can restrain myself enough to leave budget to sample all the local food specialities the place has to offer too.

More Laos transport woes

My faith in Laos buses was restored when lo and behold, the 10pm night bus did appear - and even slightly early. Our travel agent friend had a colleague on the bus who gave us a heads up 40 min before it was due, and there were thankfully seats available too. Massive win.

The journey was fairly bumpy and took many a twist and turn, but, despite the best efforts of a Laos crooner and his keyboard blasting through the airwaves, we actually got a decent amount of sleep on the 12 hour journey (which actually took 12 hours too!).

However, when we saw this as a chance to complete our intended itinerary of a trip to the Vieng Xai caves, supposedly a mere 50min and 10,000kip (<£1) journey from Sam Neua, the detailed info from the lonely planet, wiki travel and various blogs started to deviate from the reality.

Supposedly the buses leave "regularly" from the local bus station, or at least at certain given times. We hoped in an overpriced tuktuk to get there in time, only to be told by the driver the buses were finished for the day and he would take us for 250,000kip (£20+). Armed with internet knowledge as we were, we dismissed his offer. And waited...

After an hour, a lady appeared behind the counter to say there was no 11am, next bus at 1pm. With 1h30 to wait we approached the tuktuks, and were offered 250,000kip best price. We declined (our kip funds were carefully budgeted for our last 24hrs in the country so we're pretty tight). We waited...

At 1.15 our lady reappears to dismissively inform us that the bus wasn't coming. Needless to say, we were kind of expecting this, so after a little deliberation, we decided we ought to bite the bullet and head out to the caves with our overpriced tuktuk.

And, well, a worthwhile decision that turned out to be. The caves were the base and hideout of the Pathet Lao, the communist independence movement, during the 9 years of bombing by the USA in the 1960s and 70s as part of their attempts to block communist spread in Asia. Assisted by the communists in Vietnam in training, supplies and shared ideology, the politburo and the locals lived, planned and survived by building their homes in the caves (there was even a theatre/cinema hall in one cave complex) under daily assault from the air. Two million tonnes of bombs were dropped, with 30% failing to detonate - many areas in the mountains are still littered with them, and at current rate of clearance they think it will take 100 years to make the country safe.

Though it was certainly more complicated and costly than we'd anticipated, it would have been a shame to let a few transport misadventures deter us from our destination. It was a real insight into the beleaguered past of the country and one that puts a few long waits for non existent buses into perspective.

More Laos transport woes

My faith in Laos buses was restored when lo and behold, the 10pm night bus did appear - and even slightly early. Our travel agent friend had a colleague on the bus who gave us a heads up 40 min before it was due, and there were thankfully seats available too. Massive win.

The journey was fairly bumpy and took many a twist and turn, but, despite the best efforts of a Laos crooner and his keyboard blasting through the airwaves, we actually got a decent amount of sleep on the 12 hour journey (which actually took 12 hours too!).

However, when we saw this as a chance to complete our intended itinerary of a trip to the Vieng Xai caves, supposedly a mere 50min and 10,000kip (<£1) journey from Sam Neua, the detailed info from the lonely planet, wiki travel and various blogs started to deviate from the reality.

Supposedly the buses leave "regularly" from the local bus station, or at least at certain given times. We hoped in an overpriced tuktuk to get there in time, only to be told by the driver the buses were finished for the day and he would take us for 250,000kip (£20+). Armed with internet knowledge as we were, we dismissed his offer. And waited...

After an hour, a lady appeared behind the counter to say there was no 11am, next bus at 1pm. With 1h30 to wait we approached the tuktuks, and were offered 250,000kip best price. We declined (our kip funds were carefully budgeted for our last 24hrs in the country so we're pretty tight). We waited...

At 1.15 our lady reappears to dismissively inform us that the bus wasn't coming. Needless to say, we were kind of expecting this, so after a little deliberation, we decided we ought to bite the bullet and head out to the caves with our overpriced tuktuk.

And, well, a worthwhile decision that turned out to be. The caves were the base and hideout of the Pathet Lao, the communist independence movement, during the 9 years of bombing by the USA in the 1960s and 70s as part of their attempts to block communist spread in Asia. Assisted by the communists in Vietnam in training, supplies and shared ideology, the politburo and the locals lived, planned and survived by building their homes in the caves (there was even a theatre/cinema hall in one cave complex) under daily assault from the air. Two million tonnes of bombs were dropped, with 30% failing to detonate - many areas in the mountains are still littered with them, and at current rate of clearance they think it will take 100 years to make the country safe.

Though it was certainly more complicated and costly than we'd anticipated, it would have been a shame to let a few transport misadventures deter us from our destination. It was a real insight into the beleaguered past of the country and one that puts a few long waits for non existent buses into perspective.

Watching and waiting for Laos buses

10 hours ago we sat down for breakfast in sight of our estimated bus stop. It's not a labelled bus stop, just a dirt track on side of the road in small riverside town called Nong Khiaw in northern Laos. We checked with the restaurant that this was the right spot and in her stilted English we managed to convey our destination. She hurried off to find a board to make a sign for the bus driver, engaging the travel agent across the road to help. We were relieved to be in the right place, and be armed with our sign and with a few locals looking out to help us.

Sadly, 9 hours later, we are still waiting for said bus. After 4 or 5 hours they informed us the afternoon bus probably wasn't coming, but there was a night bus. The travel agent even kindly phoned the bus station in Luang Prabang to confirm. We're hoping it will arrive around 10pm as expected, but are desperately considering what our back up options might be otherwise. In a more remote place like this, there aren't many.

We've become a bit infamous in the town. Everyone has seen our sign. When it was clear we had at least 5 hours til our second chance bus, I went for a massage up the road (still within 100m of our bus stop). I started chatting to the owner, and he knowingly smiled when I said we were heading to Sam Neua (close to Vietnam border) - "I've seen the sign".

The travel agent closes in 1.5hrs, and he hopes we'll have gone by then. The restaurant owner keeps popping over and chatting to us in Lao before writing down numbers - we think these are bus times and her way of conveying. I have a habit of looking up every time a vehicle passes now with a hopeful grin, though it's making it hard for me to concentrate on anything else even though I know we've got at least another hour. I speedily return every time I go to the toilet even though I know there's plenty of time. We'll keep watching and waiting til our bright lights come to collect us.

Buses, boats and bread in Laos

The first hour of our slow boat up the Nam Ou has been pretty good so far. I'm nervous about being too pleased as that has had a tendency to backfire if I congratulate myself too early. There are 9 of us on the boat so far - all tourists - taking the 6-9 hour journey up river from Luang Prabang to Nong Khiaw. It's the journey itself I am most interested in, enjoying the meander along the river, taking in the dramatic forested hills climbing steeply on either side of us as we siddle past fishing boats on their daily hunt, and residents washing by the riverbank.

It was not the most straightforward journey to obtain information on - our attempts to find the right pier took 7 enquires at several boat depots, travel agents and from random strangers and resulted in 4 different directions and 3 different departures times. We made it eventually, and despite the horror stories about cancelled boats and over charging, we left a mere 15 minutes after our scheduled departure and paid the advertised fare. Win!

If this journey is good, we'll feel slightly vindicated in our agonized choice to take the 13 hour bus from Huay Xai on the Laos border to Luang Prabang (it was quoted as 8-10 hrs) rather than the 2 day boat journey. Most people we've met found the boat journey cramped, long, uncomfortable but very picturesque. Ours was half as long, very beautiful, and took in plenty of hillside villages along the way. It was also pretty crowded and definitely hungry, as we'd banked on there being hot food stalls on every street corner as with the rest of Asia. The lack of a large electricity network, wealth to eat out and tourist demand meant that most of our food options were of the crisp and biscuit variety so when we stopped at 1030pm after 10.5 hours of travel, we wolfed down 6 steamed cobs of corn. Needless to say, even the bread and butter for breakfast at our hostel the next day felt like food from the gods after our diet of bananas, crisps and melted snickers from our 6am to 1am day of bus journey travel.

Speaking of which, I have thoroughly enjoyed the food in Luang Prabang - from the delicious pastries in French cafes, to the Lao casseroles and sticky rice, and the freshly made chocolate and mango crepes from street vendors, it has all been an epicurean delight. Whilst the colonial legacy has blighted the country in many ways, the Laotians have certainly adopted French bread and baked goods with aplomb. I'm eagerly awaiting the halfway point on this boat journey when I can crack open my chicken and avocado baguette, as I soak up the dramatic views of misty lush green hills of this pleasant rural country.

Welcome to Thailand

I can feel the heat of the engine pulsating through my cramped feet. I fear they will never fully recover from being locked in position in the awkward space between the suitcase and the chair in front for the 16-17 hour journey in this crowded minibus from southern Thailand to Bangkok. I had been expecting them to be rolling out my bed in the sleeper train right now and stretching out to the rhythmic motion of the carriage to soothe me to sleep. Instead I got duped into taking a VIP minibus direct to Bangkok - supposedly due to arrive at 11pm so I could sleep in a real bed; in reality I think we'll be rolling in for sunrise if I'm lucky, a mere 24 hours since I left Langkawi.

I've learnt a few things from this induction to Thailand. Firstly, make sure you've scoped your backup for when things don't go to plan, with estimated costs and times to negotiate with. Secondly, book trains in advance rather than take online advice of their ready availability. Thirdly, a Thai taxi bus will be at least 50% over capacity before they consider stopping others from boarding, rather than being a more convenient, speedy and personal experience than the double deckers. And finally, always estimate 50% more time than quoted for an ETA. Good lessons in life. Welcome to Thailand.

Malaysian highlights

I've now spent 2 weeks in Asia after my southern hemisphere sojourn. Although I'm sweating like a dirty old man in a Thai ping pong show, I am really enjoying this next stage of my journey. So far, I have spent 5 days in Singapore abusing the hospitality of my lovely friends and paying over the odds for a Vietnamese visa, followed by 10 days sampling the varied culinary and natural delights of Malaysia.

To be fair, my experiences in Malaysia have been boosted by some great company. After exploring KL's religious sights with a trip to the Hindu shrines and temples in the Batu caves and a pleasant afternoon taking in the aesthtics of the Museum of Islamic Art, before gorging on the melee of street food on offer (amongst the replica handbags), I left the city to venture into the hills. The stunning views from Boh Tea Plantation, and the cooler climate (the sights included strawberry farms and rose gardens as testament to the more English temperatures) were a welcome relief from the heat and dust of the capital. From here I ventured further north to Penang, an epicurean delight with plenty of temples, national parks and street art to deserve its World Heritage Status. The Penang Food Map was perhaps my favoured tourist map, illustrating the must-eats and the best place to find them.

It was in Penang, or more on the bus to Penang, that I met a fellow British female traveller who had just finished 2 years working in South Korea. The rest of my time in Malaysia was boosted by some good company from her, her friend and a girl I met in my hostel. We made friends with a few resident backpackers which kept our nights fuelled with a bit of social vodka, rum and beer to accompany our drinking games and to complement the days spent exploring Penang's temples and food stalls.

We continued our journey into Langkawi, with its beautiful beaches and duty free booze. I took the opportunity for 3 days of beach chillout, swimming in the clear, warm waters and dozing to the sound of jetskis, accompanied by my friends from Penang and finding an Italian lady to sample the fresh barbecued fish and tour the late night shops with.

All in all, a great time had in Malaysia - from bustling megacity, serene hill stations, culinary overload and some laid back beach culture - I enjoyed the variety the country had to offer. And it was really straightforward - Malay in Latin script and English as a national language helped immensely, and things were as they said they were: buses left on time (more or less), took the duration quoted, and cost the advertised price. I love the adventure side too, don't get me wrong, but I certainly appreciated knowing where I stood too. And in such beautiful surroundings with such great food, why wouldn't you just soak it all up and stay a little longer?