the jungle line

I wasn't in the mood to do very much with my Sunday in Kuala Lumpur. Jet lagged and tired from the long journey the day before, I just meandered around a bit near my hotel in the Golden Triangle area, strolled down to Chinatown, caught the metro to the Twin Towers and had the odd cheeky beer.

KL is a relatively small capital city and can be navigated mostly by foot. I really like the place - it is clean, compact, modern and friendly. It's certainly nothing like a Bangkok or a Saigon when it comes to the full on ferocity that is often the case with Asian cities.

My train on Sunday night sauntered out of the uber modern Kl Sentral station at 20.30, bound for the north east of Malaysia on the famous 'jungle line'. Night trains in this part of the planet are an unforgettable experience. For an absurdly cheap price, you get your own bed (shut off by curtain from the rest of the train) right next to a big window, complete with reading light and a little rest for putting cans of beer on. As the train chugged its way through the Malaysian countryside, I laughed out loud at the comfort I was enjoying (in bed with a cold beer in hand) for less than a fiver...

At around midnight I started to get a bit peckish, so I went to the restaurant car for a meal (you get a proper feed too - none of this mircrowaved bacorn sarnie bollocks like in the UK). As I was tucking in to my chicken fried rice, the train stopped at a station where there were literally hundreds of people stood on the platform - all cheering and waiving the Malaysian flag. As it had gone past midnight, it was now August 31 - Malaysia day, the anniversary of independence from Britain. A member of the train staff even gave me my own flag to wave, which I briefly did before realising that I looked like a tit and returning to my bed.

The next thing I knew, it was 8am and we were slowly making our way through the misty Malaysian jungle. I was still tired, but it's pointless trying to sleep when you're travelling through such stunning scenery. Captivated by the mix of the green from the trees and the thick brown water rushing beneath, I just laid still and listened to the ipod.

I was scheduled to arrive at my destination - Tanah Mera - at 9.30am. So when the train pulled in at a station around 9.45, I duly collected my belongings and disembarked. There was nothing to indicate where I was, but I felt it safe to assume I'd reached my destination - until I finally saw a sign and discovered this was not my stop. I only just managed to leap back on board - the train was actually moving as I dragged myself onto it with my backpack. I thank Christ I managed to do this, as otherwise I would have been stranded in the arse end of nowhere in the middle of a sodding jungle...

It t0ok another three hours before we finally got to Tanah Mera. By now I had ceased enjoying the journey, particuarly as there was a shrieking baby in my carriage, and just wanted to get off the train after a not inconsiderable 17 hours on board. I don't know if it was the Malaysia Day celebrations that delayed us or whether this delay is typical, but it did take a bit of the gloss off an otherwise thoroughly enjoyaqble journey.

At Tanah Merah I shared a taxi with two other Brits, who had also been on the train, to the port of Kuala Besut. I could barely keep my eyes open during this 45 minute journey, which is probably just as well given that the driver was a total lunatic at the wheel of a car that probably hasn't passed an MOT since 1988.

From Kuala Besut I had to get a speed boat to my ultimate destination - the Perhenthian Islands. This actually turned out to be a more stressful experience than it sounds because of the various touts trying to get their hands on your dosh at the jetty. I eventually ended up on board a boat that was being driven by a Malaysian guy wearing a Purple Ipswich Town replica shirt from circa fuck knows when. It was very amusing to see the rest of the boat's passengers tease him, my favourite comment from one guy being: 'Mate, why the fuck are you wearing that shirt? it ain't cool to support Ipswich Town.' I got chatting to this bloke, and after I revealed my support for Norwich City, he immediately shouted '7-1!' and started laughing. I asked who he supports, and to my amusement it transpired he was a Southampton fan. If I was in his shoes, given that the Saints will be playing Division 4 football next season, I wouldn't be talking about the game at all!

Anyway, I'm now on the amazing Perhenthian Isalnds - somewhere I could quite happily spend the rest of my life...

getting there is half the fun...

Unusually, I set off from Gatwick rather than Heathrow for my far east flight.

I much prefer Gatwick, not because there is anything particularly endearing about the place, as it is just that much easier to get to. On Friday at 5pm that most certainly was not the case, however, as I arrived at Victoria Station and was confronted by news of scores of delays and cancellations due to fuck knows what. It was when I heard the announcement that passengers for Brighton should get on the Gatwick Express and change there that I knew things were really screwed, and so I jumped on board the said service even though I had been planning to catch the cheaper service operated by Southern. As the train crawled its way through South London at pedestrian pace, I thought of all the places I had been in the World, and could think of absolutely nowhere with a worse public transport system than ours. My friends working in PR for the rail industry will tell you that we've never had it so good, that investment and services are increasing, but most people will understandably make their judgements based on their experiences. My 30 minute journey to Gatwick took more than an hour...

To be fair, I didn't have to pay the full fare on the Gatwick 'Express' because the rest of the trains were not running. My mood also lifted when the drinks trolley made its way through the carriage and I had a G&T in my hand (just as we were leaving Croydon - always the best feeling about that affront to humanity).

I was expecting Gatwick to be rammed given that I was arriving after work on the Friday before a bank holiday, but it was as dead and desolated as I have ever seen. I didn't queue to either check in or go through security. Either everyone's credit crunched, or they are coming back from holiday before the school term starts. I certainly wasn't complaining...

Had a nice few drinks in departures and met up with my work friend Lynne, who was travelling to Majorca with her husband Gary, kids and parents. It was lovely to have a chat and talk about holiday plans - I wish you could bottle the feeling of being in a bar before a flight.

The six hours to Dubai passed in no time - partly due to the excellent service from Emirates, who really do expose BA for the shower of shites that they are. I caught about an hour's kip on the plane, which was as much as I hoped for, and spent the rest of the time tucking into the free booze.

Dubai Airport is a surreal place. Nowhere seems normal when you've been up all night and you're disorientated, but this is something else. The ferocity of the heat is the first thing you notice, but that is quickly forgetton once you are inside the air conditioned oasis of capitalism that is the airport itself. As my friend Raj pointed out to me before I arrived, it is a huge shopping mall with parking space for planes.

I was drunk, dazed and dozy during my three hour stop in Dubai. However, I did take advantage of the dirt cheap duty free to buy some aftershave and booze. A litre of vodka is cheaper than a pint of beer in a bar at Dubai Airport...

The flight to Kuala Lumpur from Dubai took another six hours, although I don't remember much of it as I fell asleep not long after we took off. I had been planning to stay awake on this leg of the trip so it would make sleeping easier when I arrived, but it was physically impossible.

Got to KL at 21.30 local time, feeling drained and a bit hungover. I shared a taxi from the airport into town with a pleasant couple from Brixton who had been on my flight, and then ended up lost. It took me a good half an hour to find my hotel, after much swearing in the sweltering humidity of the night.

My bed for the night was in the Golden Triangle area of KL - close to all the decent bars and restaurants of the city. After dumping my bag, I went out for a beer, inhaled the succulent smells of the street food and contemplated staying in this part of the world forever...

escape all this hideousness!

Well, here we go again. For the second time this year – and the third in 14 months – I am about to embark on another adventure around South East Asia.

On Friday I fly from Gatwick to Kuala Lumpur (via Dubai to change planes) and from there I will spend a little over two weeks exploring various parts of Malaysia and Thailand.

When I got back from three weeks in Vietnam earlier this year, I wasn't expecting to return to South East Asia quite so soon. I thought the remainder of my annual leave would be spent somewhere a bit closer to home.

The strength of the Euro has made most continental holidays prohibitively expensive. I also have no idea who dreamt up the idea of suggesting that people should take a 'staycation' this year to save money in the recession. For the cost of a B&B in Bournemouth you can stay in a luxury hotel in Bali. Competition between the various airlines also means prices are remaining low – Air Asia is offering some return flights from London to Malaysia for £250.

Of course, it's not just the superb value for money that draws me back to South East Asia. It's the jaw dropping scenery, fabulous food, amazing culture and lovely people. For literally months preceding a trip to this part of the world I will be engrossed in travel guides and websites – planning my trip and day dreaming about being there. The amount of time I must have spent doing this in 2009 has reached almost worrying proportions, as it must surely reveal an innate unhappiness with the rest of my life. Since this holiday was booked in May, I have done little in my spare time but think about it. Quite how I am going to feel when I get back, I'd rather not contemplate right now. It's been a gruelling few months and now my mind is focussed on a large G&T in the departure lounge at Gatwick and little else…