Jingle Jangle Jungle

Regular readers - after first congratulating themselves on having stuck with us this far - will recall that the last update was promised from Malaysia. That we have reached Cambodia, having covered Singapore and Thailand in between, probably tells you this piece is a little overdue, so snappier than an angry crocodile, here's the news:

The 12 hour minibus journey to Jogja had dented our enthusiasm for long-distances buses through Java so we opted for a flight to Medan in northern Sumatra instead. Medan, smog-ridden and filthy, held no real appeal however, so we passed straight through to the jungle village of Bukit Lawang, home of the once infamous orang-utan sanctuary. We might have been forgiven for thinking we'd found the apes prematurely when an aggresive van-driving cartel started clawing at our bags, but either our no-nonsense approach or, perhaps an absence of bananas inside put an end to that and we were soon on our way.

Bukit Lawang, like most of northern Sumatra, has had its fair share of misfortune and the tourism that once flourished here has larely disappeared. Whether that decline is the result of recent terrorism in Bali (and elsewhere), the threat of Aceh insurgency in the north or an improbable string of natural disasters, which washed half of the village away, is unclear, but the locals here, more than anywhere else in Indonesia maintain a real passion for tourism and an unrivalled enthusiasm for what they do. What could have been a half-hearted jungle trek was transformed into an unforgettable experience by our indefatigable guide Amar who, leading us through gorges and muddy ravines, located not one, but fifteen 'Jungle People' (literally orang utan in Indonesian) over two days. As we floated back down the river from our open air jungle camp the next day we reflected on an unbelievable experience, which one day will have the tourists returning in droves. Singing jungle songs to the tune of 'Jingle bells' should remain an optional extra however!

After Bukit Lawang, it was on to Berastagi, a mountain town that has also seen busier days, but which provided another volcano to climb and, thankfully, hot springs in which to soothe our aching muscles. We finished our Indonesian leg on the 'island' of Samosir, a landmass the size of Singapore in the middle of Lake Toba, the world's largest (and deepest) crater lake. Again, the island is geared up for a level of tourism that no longer exists and so we had full use of first class facilities at bargain-basement prices.

A subsequent ferry across the (allegedly pirate-occupied) Melacca straits was untroubling except for the horrendous weather (which rendered a number of locals violently ill) and before we knew it we were in Malaysia. A series of doctors with thermometers confirmed we were swine flu-free (although Jess remained to be convinced given my deeply insipid look) and we made our way to Georgetown, a colonial city on Malaysia's west coast. The contrast with Medan was incredible, to the extent that we happily strolled in the pouring rain just to enjoy the cleanliness and quiet of the streets, and the food was incredible. Whilst the sights were interesting, it was the food in Little India and China that really interested us and we were sad to have to leave after two days.

We moved on though, this time to the Cameron Highlands. The colonial influence is more evident here than anywhere, with tea plantations where there was once wild jungle and tea and scones where there would usually be roti canai. The scones fuelled a couple of days walking, hilltribe visiting and plantation wandering before we headed to the hectic capital of Kuala Lumpur. KL was choked by comparison, a shrine to consumerism with the Petronas and KL Towers interspersed with the ubiquitous shopping malls, some with their own roller coasters!! To escape the mayhem Jess and I sought out the 33rd floor of the Traders hotel and sipped cocktails as the sun set on the Petronas Towers.

Jess loved our experience on the Singapore sleeper train, although I think I would have stolen more shut-eye if i'd opted for a seat on the roof. Fortunately, recent arrival Elodie (now representing the Australian government here) came to the rescue again and we caught up on the sleep deficit at her city-centre apartment. After exploring China Town and feasting on dim sum, we met up with 'her excellency' and had our first trip in the diplomatic car (a Holden of course) en route to the 'Singapore Flyer'. Apparently some early teething problems had now been put to rest and the wheel span the right way enabling fantastic views across the island. Singapore has grasped firmly the idea that the only way out of recession is to spend, spend, spend, a duck tour highlighting the full extent of development on what land can be spared. A huge casino complex, an enormous bridge based on the DNA structure and even a scheme to convert the sea water in Singapore bay to a fresh water reservoir, are underway. No-one seems to worry about the implications despite the fact that 20% of existing development is on reclaimed land bought from Malaysia and the majority of drinking water is already piped in from there too. Not that we didn't delight in the attractions on offer, a visit to the night safari and a face-to-face meeting with tigers and elephants being the highlight.

The offer of a raclette in a nearby restaurant proved too much for two French women to resist so we spent our last night tucking into the much missed French cheese before heading to Pulau Tioman, a stunning island on the east coast of Malaysia. Yet another jungle trek across the middle of the island led us to Juara bay, the most spectacular stretch of white sand since Whitehaven and an idyllic spot to loaf for a few hours. It was soon back inland though, this time to the world's oldest rainforest, Taman Negara.

We arrived smack in the middle of a public holiday and after much pleading and no shortage of desperation managed to secure a shared room with a couple of friendly French girls for the night. We slept brilliantly and were well rested for a long trek in the jungle. Provided with a clear map, we decided that a guide was surplus to requirements and set off excitedly in search of elephants. However, some five hours into the dense vegetation, without having seen a soul in hours, we found ourselves vainly searching for a path. Looking left and right and seeing nothing but trees, Jess and I took to developing a back-up plan. No sooner had we resigned ourselves to a diet of ants and wild mangoes than we fortuitously picked up the path and two hours and one leech-infested river crossing later we arrived at our destination, just 30 minutes late for our boat. The calm waters and our sense of relief (plus a monitor lizard sighting) made our longboat trip back to town as rewarding a journey as I can remember.

Relaxation was needed and we found it in buckets on the glorious Perhentian Islands. Again the public holidays had conspired against us and we were expecting to sleep on the beach just as one last search yielded a bed for the night. In the end we stayed a few days on the island's stunning beaches including a fantastic snorkelling trip that took in not just turtles, but (finally) incredible black-tipped reef sharks.

The island paradises continued thereafter. An overland crossing into Thailand took us straight to the Krabi region where we had the opportunity to sea kayak amongst beautiful mangroves complete with resident cheeky monkeys and gravity-defying rock formations and a short trip on a long tail boat took us to Railay, where we hit the low-season slump and so took advantage of the quiet to rock climb on the incredible limestone cliffs and kick back on picture-postcard beaches.

To be continued......