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...