Chapter 1. Delhi to Pushkar

Chapter 2. Arambol to Fort Cochin and back again

Chapter 3. Singapore to Bangkok

Chapter 4. Koh Phangan to Pangadaran

Chapter 5. Yogyakarta to Exmouth

Chapter 6. Adelaide to Brisbane

Chapter 7. Noosa to Mount Maunganui

Chapter 8. Auckland to Home



Between the islands of Samui and Tao on the east coast of Thailand lies the island of Koh Phangan, pronounced 'co fang yan'. After a night bus from Bangkok I boarded the ferry to the island at 8am and listened to the dull crank of the diesel engines for another two and a half hours. A further twenty minutes in the back of a pick up taxi brought me to the busiest resort on the island, Haad Rin, home of full moon parties, the last of which I had mercifully missed on the 2nd April.

Dropped on an anonymous dirt track in the centre of the small town, the taxi driver points me toward the beach. I made my way through the usual mix of shops, travel agents and bars until the glint of sun on sea caught my eye down a side street. At the end of the path was a restaurant terrace, the Haad Rin Resort and in front of me a sweeping bay of soft sand, crystal clean turquoise water, with a backdrop of green hills peppered with the blue and red tin roofs of beach bungalows clinging to the rocks. I can see why they call this the paradise island.

Internationally famous for its full moon parties which can attract up to 30,000 revelers, this island could not help itself, it had to harpoon the full commercial underbelly of opportunity by creating half moon parties, black moon parties and let's just have another party, parties. On these nights the majestic location of my beach bungalow just yards from the lapping shore, takes on an altogether different air. Be prepared for thumping bass from five or more competing bars on the sea front until about 5am. A few ear assaulting midnight fireworks are also thrown into the mix. This is then replaced around 6am by the shrieking, shouting and giggling of shoals of twenty somethings, party kings and queens falling home to their beds or just deciding that they are still up for more and they are going to party right outside your bungalow door.

To the north west of the island lies one of many secluded bays, and after some days at Rin my new home was Haad Salad. There is not much of a beach here but it is still beautiful and very very quiet with just a couple of bars, shops and a travel agent. The water stays shallow right out to 30 meters or more off shore and there you can snorkel around the coral reef just below the surface. Like many places in Thailand the cheap seats accommodation is surprisingly close to the luxury. From my bungalow with its fan, many entrances and exits for insect life, cold shower and no toilet seat (or flush handle) I can see through my warped window frame, the rooms of the Haad Salad Resort, air conditioning, cushions, swimming pool and crisp bedding (and flush handle loo), very nice if you are only on a two week vacation but definitely out of my league.

Happy New Year! What do you mean 1st January, this is Thai new year on the 13th April and it has been ushered in this week by a series of thunder storms and torrential downpours. Songkran as its known here is a national celebration and I heard from someone in the taxi that we are about to be in the year 2550. Time is relative. Thais have a rather unique way of welcoming the new year too, not the British reserve of a bit of coal out the back door or a pleasant dinner party with Big Ben at midnight, no this is an all out assault, a public water fight of biblical proportion. I've never seen anything like it. I went to Thong Sala, one of the bigger towns on the island to join in. Those who were prepared, had invested in top spec 'super soaker' water guns and along the main street thousands of Thais and foreigners were throwing, squeezing, bucketing and chucking as much water as they could get their hands on, onto anyone and everyone. The local 7 11 store was doing brisk business in bottled beer and Thai rum with the ground floor ankle deep in wet. Pick ups, vans, jeeps and bikes were winding a carnival procession down main street while the pavement bystanders engage in maximum water abuse. I took my share of soaking, bought a beer and tried to blend into the background for a while. It works for maybe a few minutes but then someone spots you and you're for it. Spladoosh, another soaking. The sky was grey and thunder rolled across the horizon until the heavens opened and the chaos of water exchange in the street was accompanied by a monumental downpour of cats and dogs. Some sheltered, others (the more drunken ones) held up their arms and prayed to the rain god. I don't know how long the party went on but I left after a few hours, having witnessed a few of the local young men, drunk on Thai rum, spoiling for a brawl with some rival crew from across the street. Such is the way in any carnival in these times. I shared an open back taxi back to the quiet of my resort, took another beer and went to sleep, there and then, five o'clock in the afternoon.

Koh Phangan is on the east side of Thailand, the coast not affected by the 2004 Tsunami. The next morning I made my way to the ferry terminal and returned to the mainland for transportation to the other famous islands, this time on the west coast. The base station for these islands is the unremarkable town of Krabi, gateway to the likes of Phuket one of the better known western haunts. From here you can rock climb, kayak around the mangrove plantations or take a trip on a long tail boat out to one of the many small islands dotted all over the area. There are dozens of them, many cannot be boarded as they are just green crusted limestone monoliths popping up out of the sea all across the horizon. Others can be landed, like Chicken Island, Hong Island and the next on my visit list, one of the most beautiful, Phi Phi. Pronounced pee pee, this is a small island mostly mountainous and inaccessible but with a flat area of three streets and one beach. The few streets are lined with the usual tourist fare and there is new construction going on all around as is the case in any popular resort these days. Many people, however, come here for the things you do off island, particularly scuba diving and there are at least ten companies competing for your business. It's not cheap by Thai standards, 45 pounds for two one hour dives, but this is some of the best diving in the world and by English standards you couldn't get a snorkel in the River Severn estuary for that money.

At 8am the boat goes out to Phi Phi Ley, smaller sister of Phi Phi some 10km off shore and only approachable by boat. This is the third time I have scuba dived but this was a world apart from the Greek islands. This is like swimming about in a huge warm aquarium. You see fish I have only ever seen behind glass or on television, soft coral, a leopard shark sat still and silent on the sea bed, puffa fish, starfish, angel fish, clown fish and a solitary green turtle flapping its stubby arms around a cavern. You glide alongside the cliff side wall, down into a gauge of coral, past purple barrel clams, shoals of green and yellow somethings and above you the surface silence is occasionally broken with the rumble by of the propeller of a long tail or dive boat.

Scuba is a slightly frightening experience as you are encased in pipes, tank, weights, jacket, with a mask over your face, flippers on your feet and air hose in your mouth. Trussed up, you jump feet first into the sea and start sinking below the surface. It's much more maneuverable in the water of course but you still have a slight foreboding of claustrophobia and at 15 meters you can't just decide that it's not for you so you're taking your ball home. Down there you have to bite the bullet and keep breathing slow and regular, after all you are paying good money to 'enjoy' this. Two dives of an hour each is pretty hard on the body if you don't dive regularly and I felt tired as the boat headed for land in the afternoon sunshine. I think it's a mixture of breathing tank air, the physical demands of diving and the pressure exerted by the water on your body. An hour later after the taking on of sugar foods and I was good again. It is a glorious natural world off Phi Phi Ley, one of the unspoiled natural wonders we still have and thankfully the dive companies are trying to keep it that way.

Of course it was the east coast islands that were hit directly by the Tsunami on 26 December 2004 and Phi Phi was right in the middle of that natural disaster. Surprisingly there is little evidence here that it ever happened, probably intentional so as not to undermine the happy holiday atmosphere with pictures everywhere of the devastation. There is a small memorial garden tucked away in a difficult to find part of the beach and a few signs here and there that point to Tsunami evacuation points. If you look hard around the main street you can find a few photos or newspaper articles posted on shop walls showing how the local businesses were destroyed by the surge of water and mud. In one of the bakeries on the main street, the local paper shows the ground floor under two feet of silt and a shambles of broken wood, metal and gas cylinders piled up against the shop front.

Today, over two years on, the place has been completely rebuilt and life goes on as if nothing happened. I had hoped to talk to someone who was there on the island when the wave hit but perhaps it is a memory best left unraked. Standing there on the waterline looking out to sea it must have been the most extraordinary sight to have seen on the horizon a thirty meter wall of water approaching. As I look around here, all of the buildings are single storey, many looking fragile. I don't know where I would have run to, the hills maybe but they are several hundred yards from here. Over 4,000 people died that day just on this island, over half of them holiday makers. I did hear that one of the reasons so many died was the time that the wave hit, 9.30 in the morning when many of the tourists were still slumbering in bed and would have been swamped without warning by the torrent. Who knows if Phi Phi will ever have to see such a thing again.

And so my time on these islands draws to a close for now. Tomorrow I return to Krabi for the transit to a whole new land, Malaysia. Given its immediate proximity to Thailand, but religious distinction, I am interested to see how much it differs in custom, culture and the people.

A new day, a new country and new currency and exchange rate to get your head around. Today it is the Ringit and I have to switch from 68 to the pound to 7 to the pound, initially confusing but after a day it settles in. Penang is a small Malaysian island near the southern Thai border, with its centre being Georgetown, an interesting multi ethnic mix of people and religions, Chinese, Malay and Indian. This manifests itself in a jumble of restaurants, temples and architectures as well as income bracket, denoted by some very poor characters on dilapidated bicycles through to the well dressed middle classes shopping at the places to be seen, the local air conditioned mall. It is also unusual to see different shops open and closed on different days of the week. Saturday, for example, being the Muslim day of rest and so all businesses owned by Muslims are closed. Sunday is the same but for the Christians and so on. On first impression it seems Malaysia sits somewhere below the affluence of Singapore and above that of Thailand. They have a Grand Prix here in April but the shops and business district are not in the same league as there island state neighbor to the south. It's not difficult to find the tourists here, they, like me, find a certain comfort in the familiar and at some point on any given day you can find us in McDonalds, Starbucks or Maloney's Irish Bar.

In Malaysia. like India and Thailand before it, most of the local people speak a basic form of English but it's only a form and usually involves repeating a lot and minimizing any sentence to only include the essential words. Therefore, could you tell me where I can buy a coconut becomes 'you tell me where buy coconut'. Unfortunately this becomes habitual and you have to be careful you don't slip into it when engaging in conversation with English speakers in hostels. 'You travel long time in Asia? Where you go now? You have fresh milk for tea?'

Georgetown is a nice enough place to spend a day but it's just a stopover for me on the way to the Cameron Highlands, six hours inland by bus. Set 2000 meters above sea level this region is a holiday retreat for Malaysians who love the cool temperatures in this area of outstanding natural beauty. As we approach Tanah Rata I am wondering if we have been suddenly transported through a wormhole to a works outing in the Breckon Beacons, to the left signs for tea and cream scones, to the right pick your own strawberries, to the left a faux Tudor 'olde smokehouse' and to the right rolling green hills. No, this is central Malaysia alright but even the name Cameron Highlands is a throw back to British colonial rule prior to 1947. One of the main activities in the province is trekking the many jungle paths through thick vegetation, often past waterfalls leading down to manicured tea plantations and boutique strawberry farms. The topography here makes for high rainfall and the result is lush rolling emerald agriculture.

A day's trek with Kali a local guide who has been walking these trails for 50 years is hard work. Between 8.30am and 5pm you cover around 14km up steep narrow paths through twisted jungle growth. If your travel insurance company could see the sheer drop offs to the left, the mud slides or the razor sharp spines of the bushes that line the route they would tear up your policy into little pieces and throw it out of the window. As we go, Kali points out poisonous fungi, vegetation used to make traditional huts and he tempts you to try sweet palm stem and wild ginger. A foot long millipede is plucked off the floor and deposited on the arm of various volunteers. He warns us against trying to pull leaches off your skin without salt or fire. We would rather not know that leeches are in the trees and on wet leaves that we brush past, when most of us thought you had to wade through swamps to meet them. We rest for a while at one of the largest tea plantations in Cameron, a lattice of neatly set out hedges, each with a carpet of fresh green shoots on top, ready to be cut and processed into finest Cameron Highlands Tea. After a further two hours the trail eventually ends at a remote waterfall that few people know, deep in the bush. It's a demanding but rewarding day.

Daniel's Lodge is another on of those hostels that just has a great crowd of people in the same place at the same time. The nightly bonfire behind the Jungle Bar is an ideal draw for the tenants as there are few other places other than restaurants to sit after 6pm. There is Jay, the jovial Irish guy with the trilby hat, joking and drinking his way round Asia, Jo, on her way back to New Zealand after working three years in England, Matt and Debbie who started traveling to Asia from the UK overland in an 18 ton truck last April and Espen from Denmark trying to work out where he wants to take his life next.

However, after four relaxing days I have to move on as I have an appointment with one of the oldest rainforests on planet earth, 130 million years untouched by glacier or ice age, this is the Taman Nagara National Park. The one horse that inhabited this one horse town that sits aside the national park, left in 1995. A set of undistinguished restaurant boats, and I use the term restaurant lightly, waddle about on the river overlooked by an equally undistinguished crop of guest houses but the truth is that people don't come here for that, they come to cross the river and immerse themselves in some of the oldest nature that this planet has ever seen and I was to be no exception. Activities fall broadly into daytime and night time jaunts to see the flora and forna on offer. I chose a guided half day tour over the canopy walkway and up through the jungle to one of the highest view points that over looks the 4,500 square kilometers of park. The canopy is a series of suspended walkways 600 feet up in the trees of the jungle. The guide warns you to keep five meters apart when your up there to prevent the whole thing wobbling so much that someone disappears over the edge. Every 50 meters there is a platform attached to one of the massive forest trees and you can take in the rich mesh of greenery or sometimes there is a parting in the trees, showing the carpet of jungle roof for miles around. Back on terra firma there is a two kilometer walk up hill to the main view point. The paths are obviously well worn here and if you want authentic jungle you need to take on of the three night, four day treks where you and the bugs sleep in an uncomfortable tent and hike 12km a day in the heat. Along the route you get some insight to the age of this place. Trees with roots that sprawl out 12 feet in every direction line the path, embraced with parasite vines as thick as your thigh. Very Jurassic Park.

Nevertheless, when we reach the peak of the trail luck is with us. The visibility was good today, low cloud, low haze. The guide said we were a lucky group. You can turn your head to the left and over to the right in one continuous movement without losing sight of the canopy and in the distance I see the mist covered tops of the mountains that poke up through the rainforest. It was a view worth climbing for, unlike any you will see in Europe, one of those captured special moments of the journey.

In the afternoon I took myself on a self made itinerary through some of the other marked paths of the park that led down along the river and out toward the deeper jungle. It's an eerie place on your own especially when you spot a writhing black, albeit short, snake to one side of the path. On the way back, shortly after the snake encounter, I stood and watched a family of moneys in a set of trees, playing, arguing, teaching their young and eating the green shoots at the ends of the thinnest branches. Taman Negara is a beautiful, natural, dangerous and fascinating place, a snapshot of life on earth more than twice as old as the dinosaurs.

They say in politics that perception is everything, i.e. our perception of something is actually more important than the reality. My perception of Malaysia had been built up from talking with people who had been here and various information extracted from the net. It is obvious that Malaysia is trying hard to attract people this year. Everywhere you see the Visit Malaysia 2007 banners, celebrating 50 years of independent nationhood. Despite the expanse of smiley faces on the advertising, I had met a number of people who were less than delighted with their Malaysian experience. Some of the main reflections were that this is a strongly Muslim country, highly conservative, disapproving of wayward westerners, you couldn't get a drink anywhere and the people were somewhat unfriendly. My version of this reality is quite different. To be honest I could still be in Thailand in many respects notwithstanding the fact that many of the Muslim women cover their hair with a scarf. Having said that you often see the women laughing and smiling, wearing jeans and heeled shoes, not shrouded in black with just their eyes showing. They are also fashion conscious and want to enjoy all the trappings of modern living while paying due respect to their faith. Malaysians love their shopping, movies, technology, eating out and kids, just like us.

On arrival in the capital city of Kuala Lumpur I was relieved to be back in a place with lots of choice. In the rainforest you have four choices of food, Chinese, Indian, Indian and Chinese. Ok so you can get something that purports to be a cheeseburger at some of the restaurants but it doesn't taste like any cheeseburger I ever had. Suffice it to say that on arrival in the City I heard there was a supermarket 100 yards from the hostel I threw down my bag and ran at maximum speed across the road, up the steps and into the mall. Like a five year old on Christmas morning, I was a human with a purpose. I rushed to the back of the store, flitting glances at the fresh fruit and vegetable sections but I wanted an altogether rarer prize in Asia, there set across three shelves, cheese, cheese, cheese. Emmental, Danish Blue, Feta, Cheddar, Edam, they had everything. I chose two at leisure, together with a French baguette and bottle of smooth Australian red wine, paid quickly and scurried back to my room in the hostel for a picnic of self indulgence. It's weeks and months since I had met this combination of flavor, texture and taste. It's amazing how much small things can become missed, when you don't have them. It makes me think that in England we are blessed with the widest selection of fine foods from all over the world and we take it for granted. I know we should be grateful for any food but eating is a great pleasure in life and I enjoyed every mouthful.

Like many tourist authorities, the one for Malaysia tries to make more of Kuala Lumpur than it really has to offer. Most countries do the same and it's not surprising as they do want you to visit and to stay as long as possible. KL is a nice city. It feels safe here and its visitors enjoy all the benefits of its variety. The centre is cosmopolitan, populated with sparkling shopping malls and an efficient public transport system. On my first day I followed the recommendation of Phil, the hostel manager and headed for the KL Tower, a huge observation column located in a park in the north east of the city. The tower provides excellent panorama views of the urban sprawl, particularly the twin icons that define the skyline here, the twin towers of the Petronas building, which until recently were the tallest in the world. The towers have a remarkable design, rippled silver steel butted to blue green glass set side by side like jelly moulds. They dominate the skyline by day and at night when they are lit like Hollywood stars from all sides. Wherever you are in the City you can usually use the Petronas Towers as your landmark.

To the west lies the hustle and bustle of Chinatown with its traditional market along Petaling Street, an ornate Indian temple a street away to the left and the Jamek Mosque a minute the other way. This is a microcosm of Malaysia, people of different cultures and faiths living with mutual respect in the same melting pot. There is no shortage of ways to fill your time here if you want to be busy. You can wander through the manicured parks, catch a movie, study the sharks at the Aquaria centre, or watch the bats and thieving monkeys in the great limestone caves at Batu, just outside the city. While KL seems very Western in so many respects there are things that don't quite fit and when you encounter them you're reminded that the culture here is different to what we know. Shoes have to be removed before entering the hostel, they sell chicken feet in the cold meat section of the supermarket, pork and alcohol are banned from being brought into hotels. Still, the atmosphere is much more polite respect that demanding.

Two hours south of the City is Melaka, a major port on the ancient spice routes of Asia, with its charming old town of narrow streets and unique Chinese architecture heavily influenced by the various invading colonizations of the Dutch, English and Portuguese. Strolling around the old town you will pass sun faded buildings with shuttered windows on the first floor and a myriad of commercial uses at ground level, from a traditional coal fired blacksmith to a food court, a museum of Malay life to an antique shop. The river cuts the area in two and along its banks you can sit on one of the cafe balconies and watch the river cruisers move by. The heat is extraordinary here in May and there has been no rain for days. It's perhaps pushing 40 degrees at 1 in the afternoon and everyone runs for the shade where ever possible.

On the hill above the clock tower square is the ruined church of St Peter which has doubled for a gunpowder store in its time. In the square below a newly married Malay couple stand in front of the ornate marble fountain dedicated to Queen Victoria in 1904, to have there wedding photos in the mid day sun. They have just been married along the road in the Anglican church of St Francis Xavier, a legacy of English heritage. In the heart of Chinatown you can find a cluster of temples, Chinese, Hindu and Muslim. The oldest temple in Malaysia is here, dedicated to the Chinese goddess of mercy, it has beautifully inlaid wood panels with indecipherable inscriptions, big brass bowls filled with sand, protruding bunches of burning incense sticks, and disfigured stone faces in the walls to ward off the demons. Melaka is a fascinating two day excursion from the capital but I must return to KL in the morning for one day before I move on to my last Asian capital city, the sprawling home to 10 million Indonesians, Jakarta.

My time in Malaysia is coming to an end and I am anticipating life in Indonesia. From what I have read so far I am in for more of a challenge than Malaysia, Thailand or Laos. It appears that English is not taught in schools and therefore not widely spoken and that the culture is less liberal. I must admit I am nervous about this country and my research on the Internet is not helping at all. If it's not the bombs, riots and anti western fundamentalists, it's the article I just read called 'how I got robbed at knifepoint by a taxi driver and his thug friends in Jakarta'. Then of course there are the earthquakes, tsunamis, erupting volcanoes and malaria. Wow, am I really going to Indonesia. Yes of course I am and my concerns are modestly countered by an article in the Independent which tells of a woman travel writer spending three months traveling alone in the country. It seems there are some amazing and spectacular things to see and I travel in hope.

For myself, life on the road seems like normal life now. In fact I'm not sure how I would feel about staying in the same house every night. I have learned a few interesting things in these four months on the run; I can quite happily live with minimal possessions trussed up in one bag, despite all these wonderful adventures my heart is still very much at home in Britain and, I don't need to find out anything about myself through this experience. At 44 I am the person that I am and although I love to learn and want to develop as an individual, but for better or worse there is no other David in there waiting to burst out.

Indonesia

I am taking Air Asia a local budget airline from Kuala Lumpur to the capital Jakarta. I must admit to really liking air travel, well at least the taking off and landing. It's every Boy's Own adventure and the nearest most of us will get to fulfilling are youthful dream of being a fighter pilot. That's why I always want a window seat, preferably over the wing. I taxi from the terminal to the end of runway 29, clear final checks with the tower and pause a moment before engaging the throttle to maximum and we thrust down the tarmac to the tipping point and tilt up into the sky. Once we have banked away to the left and climbed to a comfortable 35,000 feet I can switch on the auto pilot and relax for a while, maybe let the guys at the front take over while I have my free drink.

The largest archipelago on earth, a collection of 17,000 islands between Australia and the Malaysian peninsular, this is Indonesia, land of volcanoes and surfing beaches. On reading up about my new home I noted that many people completely bypass the capital Jakarta and on arriving there I can understand why. If you think Bangkok is polluted you haven't seen anything until you've been in midtown Jakarta. The traffic fumes are absolutely unbelievable and the City is in a permanent state of gridlock. I have to give New Delhi credit here, at least they have improved their City air by insisting that all the tuk tuks convert to be powered by liquid gas. No so in Jakarta, the orange three wheelers are basically oil burning two strokes and gray carbon pours out of the elementary exhaust right into your face. The local buses spew black diesel fumes while people are running in all directions clutching handkerchiefs to their faces. At least in Bangkok you can escape the fumes into the shopping malls or skytrain but there is no metro or equivalent in Jakarta and the shopping malls are very spread out across this sprawling metropolis.

I tried to make the most of my one day here by heading to the north of the City by the reasonably efficient Trans Jakarta bus system to the old town area of Kota. There are some interesting colonial buildings here although breathing is decidedly difficult as is playing death chicken every time I cross the road. A little further on past ambush road and kidnap alley is the old port where you can actually see something unique, the world's last fleet of wind powered trading schooners all lined up on the quayside either loading or unloading timber, great plastic sacks of insulation sheet or similar commodities. The schooners are a testament to a tradition of hundreds of years of Jakarta as a major sea trading hub and they moor here today as they gave since the 17th Century. The capital also has some interesting cultural museums and the national monument next to Gambir railway station is an impressive huge white stone tower with a gold flame mounted on the top.

The next day I take the three hour train journey to Bandung traveling east across Java, Indonesia's largest island. Once we clear the City, the view out of the train window grows increasingly green and pleasant, a mixture of lush pastures, banana palms, smoking top mountains and flooded rice fields. This is another poor but beautiful country and its reputation has been unfairly damaged by terrorist bombings in Bali and Jakarta. Add to this the devastation of the 2004 Tsunami and Muslim fundamentalism and you have the result of practically no tourists coming to mainland Java these days although I hear Bali is picking up a little.

Bandung is not set up for tourists, well not western ones anyway. In fact it is a favorite weekend get away for Indonesians especially from the Capital. You can tell that they don't really cater for English speakers as all of the restaurants serve predominantly indigenous dishes and the menus and incomprehensible. I find myself here because I am following the classic established Bangkok to Bali overland route as recommended by several up market tour operators in the UK. Bandung is a typical provincial Asian city with a small number of impressive colonial buildings now turned into banks or the main post office, and a very large number of busted buildings and broken pavements. However, compared to shopping in Jakarta I'm sure Bandung is a sheer joy. I didn't come here for that though, I came here because this is volcano country. The next morning I head out of town on public transport with my guide Banbang, well that's what he claims his name is. We are on the bus because there is only me on the tour and its not worth his while to take the mini van for one tourist so we hop on and off a variety of vehicles for five hours until finally riding pillion on the back of a motor scooter we arrive at the car park below the volcano Pappadayan. It's one of the active ones in this area and last erupted in 2002 when three people died in the local tobacco plantations that take advantage of the fertile soil here. The previous explosion was in the 18th Century when hundreds died.

We walk for an hour up the valley and you can see the white plumes of steam and sulphur from perhaps a dozen vents in the mountain side. Under foot are tons of broken rocks, large and small, of red and brown and yellow all of which were spat out of the ground on that day five years ago. When we arrive at the main vent it is hissing loudly and when the wind changes you get light headed by the cloud of sulphur steam in your face. The ground around the gaping hole is bright canary yellow and you can't help wondering whether you could run down fast enough if it began to erupt. After an hour exploring the other vents and taking in the views down into the valley floor we move on, this time to Gamut, a village at the foot of Pappadayan where a collection of rather nice hotels have established around the natural hot springs. The water comes from deep in the mountain and is pumped into the hotel swimming pools. People come from all over Indonesia to bath in this hot spring water which is believed to cure all. It was a pleasure to swim in this hot bath after all that time in buses and trekking over the mountain. It was a 12 hour day by the time we got back to Bandung but a rewarding one. Volcanoes are rare shows on the earth's power and majesty and always a pleasure to take in. I go in search of food but I don't understand any of the menus and I'm sick of Nasi Goreng, the national number one dish of fried ribbon noodle, bean sprout, meat, soy, and some green vegetable. In the end I dive into a restaurant which is obviously good because it's full of locals and a young guy on the next table kindly helps me order stir fried beef with steamed rice. As I walk back to the guesthouse mothers are sleeping with their kids in doorways here, battered signs hang off every building and blue tarpaulin covered pavement shacks make cheap deep fried foods using black, month old oil.

Five hours by mini bus heading south east brings me to the coast and the town of Pangadaran. Again this place is better known for holidaying Indonesians than the likes of me and it's apparent as I take my first walk round that in fact I seem to be the only European here. After five days in Indonesia I have hardly seen anyone vaguely traveler looking. Pangadaran is an unspoiled coastal town with a very long clean beach and a national park at its west end. Its origins were as a fishing town and all along the beach small blue fishermen's boats are washed up after their early morning trawl. There are still many reminders of the 2004 Tsunami and it's more obvious here than on Koh Phi Phi Thailand as there are whole areas of beach bungalows and private houses that were ripped apart by the two waves that December day and they haven't been touched since, I guess either because they weren't insured for such an event or they just went bankrupt anyway. Broken bricks and hanging roofs sit miserable as a permanent reminder of the way one natural disaster wrecked this place. There are many hotels here, shops selling swim wear, restaurants and street vendors, just no customers to go with them.

Bill my guide for the jungle tour was on the beach when the waves struck. The first, he told me, was 9 feet high, followed closely by the second that had the real power and was 30 feet high. He ran for his life as the second wave caught up with him and crashed down on him. He was swept headlong forward in the swirling torrent. Many people dies that day not from drowning but by the water ramming them into walls and trees. Bill was one of the lucky ones who managed to miss such obstacles and be a strong enough swimmer to fight for survival.

Tomorrow is another 'ambition' day. It's a great pleasure at the age of 44 to still experience brand new things, as in your forties you can begin to believe that there are not that many new experiences still around. Tomorrow I would take my first surfing lesson and I am apprehensive especially after reading how some people get clattered by the board as they are flipped into the sea time after time and can lose teeth or worse. My tutor is Leo the son of the hotel owner and an award winning surfer in his own right. Another first are the waves here. I have never seen surf breakers before and they are both beautiful and powerful. When you're standing in the shallows the breakers can look 10 feet tall at times and they crash down like thunder towards you. Mine is a long board, suitable for a beginner and twice the size of Leo's. I lie more off the back than in the middle, casting a glance back toward the racing breaker. Leo encourages me to paddle fast and as soon as the waver catches the board he says, get up onto your feet, knees bent. Of course I fall off again and again which is only to be expected but after a while I do gain some ability to catch the wave and once or twice stumble to my feet and glide, in a fashion towards shore. I swallow some sea water, some gets in your sinuses, some stuck in your ears but fortunately nothing more serious in injuries. Surfing is demanding on your body but a great connection with the beauty and power of nature and I'm sure I'll try it again, perhaps in Bali next time.

My final day here is a guided one into the jungle to a water filled cave where you can climb the thick vines along the walls up to a tree branch and fall feet firth into the water. Yards away is another first, a waterfall where you can swim through the falling water into a small cave. I've never before stood inside a waterfall looking out. On the way back we visit cottage factories making rice crackers and brown sugar and a puppet maker who carves intricate characters by hand, a skill passed on from his father. The puppets are an important part of Indonesian culture, a way to convey to ordinary people issues of politics, religion, entertainment and public service announcements. Puppeteers come from all over Java to buy his figures, hand painted in bright colours with clothes and jewelry made by the craftsman's wife. On the way back to town along the beach road, Bill points out a graphic reminder of the 26th December, the town cemetery where all those taken that day were buried in family graves. The people here don't underestimate nature and they believe that one day, sooner or later the Tsunami will come again but they hope next time they will be ready.



 Malaysia.. The bus from Georgetown to Cameron Highlands takes 6 hours and costs 35 ringit. Many guest houses sell tickets. The bus goes from a bus station on the edge of town and you will need to get a taxi there.

 I stayed at 100 Cintra Street Hostel, Georgetown. Conclusion basic but ok.

 The bus to Cameron Highlands leaves at 8am from a bus station that is way out of the centre of Georgetown. I booked a taxi in advance for 20MR. The bus itself is 35RM.

 At Taman Negara national park I stayed at Tehan Guest House. Conclusion good but basic.

 In Kuala Lumpur there are two separate urban train systems and you cannot get a combined travel card. The monorail covers a good portion of the City centre and you can buy a charged value card for 20 ringit. Each journey is a set charge of 1.60 MR.

 At the shopping malls there are pre paid taxi coupon booths. It makes it a lot easier than negotiating a price with the taxi.

 I stayed at the Equator Hostel, KL. Conclusion excellent. Gets booked out so book early.

 You can pretty much walk around all of the old town attractions of Malacca on foot.

 The bus from KL to Malacca is cheap, around 20 MR return. Get your ticket from the bus station three days in advance.

 In Malacca the number 17 town bus will take you from the Sentral bus terminus into the town. It's a long way to walk.

 In Malacca I stayed at the Kencil Guest House. Conclusion very good although a little out of the action.

 Metered taxis can often be cheaper than tuk tuks but as usual it is not quite that straight forward as the taxi owners prefer not to use the meter and negotiate a set rate which is higher than the meter. When you get in the taxi look for the red numerals of the taxi meter on the dash. If it's not on ask them to put it on. If he says no or that it is broken just get out of the taxi and find one that will.

 To get a visa on arrival you will need an air ticket out within 30 days of arrival, plus 25 USD for the visa. I also read that you have to prove you have sufficient funds to last 30 days but they never asked me about that and all I have is ATM cards now.

 On buses always travel with your day sack valuables on your lap. Never place your bag next to you, in an overhead rack or on the floor by your feet. There are people here that specialize in thieving in buses.

 Only use Blue Bird Group taxis in Jakarta. If possible take the Trans Jakarta bus or tuk tuk.

 The train from Gambir station to Bandung takes three hours and is 60,000 rupiah, about 3 pounds. Go in executive class and enjoy the wide seats and leg room.

 You can get a mini van from Bandung to Pangadaran for very little money and it takes around 5 hours.

 Try the fresh fish in Pangadaran, its very cheap and delicious.

 I stayed at the Mini Tiga Guest House. Conclusion very good.

 Koh Phangan .. You can take a VIP bus service from the southern bus terminal in Bangkok direct to the island. It leaves BKK at 8pm and arrives at the ferry terminal around 8 the next morning. At 844 baht for the bus and another 200 for the ferry to the island you might think it's not cheap but you get taken direct to the island with no changes and the bus itself is only 24 seats with reclining chairs so you get lots of room plus complementary drinks and food. I managed to get a surprisingly large amount of sleep. Make sure you get the bus ticket, food ticket and ferry ticket when you book as they are all separate. You have to go to the bus terminal to book the ticket which is a pain but the easiest way is BTS sky train to Victory Monument then meter taxi to the terminal which will cost around a pound. See previous entry on meter taxis.

 I would avoid backing up digital media onto CD. The only practical place to store it is in your main pack and on two occasions I cracked the CD even within protective cases. The sack just gets thrown about too much. I recommend you back up photos, music etc to either a flash memory card (minimum 2 gig) or to an internet site like www.kodakgallery.com which lets you load you photos up for free.

 I stayed at Paradise Beach Bungalows. Good basic and clean for 350B a night.

 The Islands ..On Koh Phangan I stayed at Paradise Beach Bungalows at Haad Rin. Conclusion very good. My Way Bungalows at Haad Salad. Conclusion good.

 I took the ferry and then bus on a combined ticket from Koh Phangan to Krabi. It leaves around 12 noon and gets into Krabi early evening.

  I stayed at the Cha Guest House in Krabi Town. Conclusion very good.

 I took a mini van from Krabi to Georgetown in Malaysia and booked at the guest house. It was a very reasonable 650BT. You have to change vans in Trang and then get out at the Thai border to exit the country and then go through immigration to get into Malaysia. All very straight forward.