Malaysia - Sabah 21 March 2011

This is the handbag I now packed with life's necessities. I also had a nylon bag where I put my books, notebooks, e-tickets and the like. We had to get up at four this morning. Breakfast was a quiet affair, just concentrating on how to work the coffee machine and the toaster.
The airport at Kota Kinabalu is new - just one long shiny corridor, really.We sat at the gate for ages- we could have got up an hour later. But then you never know, I know. There was this incredible gale blowing out of the air con; everyone huddled up in the seats furthest away from it. Someone remarked that this is the other-way-round-country: you wrap up when you go inside.

A quick, 40-minute flight took us across the island to Sandakan, on the northern edge of Sandakan Bay and with the Sulu Sea outside and beyond. This little town was practically bombed out of existence during WWII, and was rebuild in what would seem a rather haphazard manner. The main industry of the area is palm oil. And the second is .... Ecoturism! That's what we were up to. We were met at the airport by two guides and boarded some buses. I know you are all dying to find out what happened to our suitcases. Well, they came on the bus, too. So far so good. The guide in our bus was a good-looking tall young man with a fashionable haircut - i e no hair at all. He made a roll-call which turned out sweet and funny, since he used all our christian names, Mrs Ninni, Mrs Agneta etc. The last one to be called up was Mrs Eric. Well, that turned out to be himself. Our first stop was Sepilok Orangutan Rehabilitation Center. The center was established in 1964 and occupies 43 square kilometres of primal rain forest. Here, orphaned and injured orangutans are "rehabilitated" and eventually reintroduced into their natural habitat. Orang means man and utan means forest or jungle. They serve them mostly bananas, and when they eventually get bored with this diet, they start looking for more interesting things to eat, further and further afield. We walked on boardwalks in quite stifling heat to a place where there is a feeding platform. Feeding was not due to take place for about 45 minutes; in the meantime we were entertained by quantities of macaques (monkeys), who were not shy and ..erm.. procreated happily, albeit in very brief bursts. We had plenty of time to talk - and, thankfully, sit, as well. Eric's way of calling us by title + christian name had sparked a discussion on how we address each other, across the globe. Low wires were suspended across the jungle to the platform and as feeding time approached (do the orangutans have watches?) two females, each with a baby holding on to their bellies for dear life, came swinging along the wires. The macaques were gone by now, waiting in the wings. A ranger emptied a bucket of bananas and some papaya and the two ladies started eating. The one on the right from where I was standing got hold of all the papaya and hid it behind her; but as you know, these animals have very long arms and the other girl managed to get one or two little pieces of papaya, sneaking her bendy arms behind. Then the male arrived. He seemed very aware of his audience and all the cameras snapping away; he leant casually against the pole in the middle of the platform, cool as a cucumber, and, of course, ate all the papaya. He then took whole bunches of bananas and slurp, they were gone!

After all that excitement we walked back to the cafe at the entrance. We saw some more orangutans in the trees; someone saw a snake. It was really nice to have a cup of tea and some biscuits - breakfast seemed a distant memory. It was only now that I realised that we were being divided into two groups. I am sometimes a bit slow on the uptake. One group was going to do things in a particular order for the next few days, and the other group the same things but in reverse order. Not that it mattered. I had decided to go with the flow.


We were now taken to Sim-Sim harbour, which is surrounded by a sprawling village, built on the sea. We later found out that this is where Eric grew up. The harbour was a strange place; M. from Switzerland and I agreed that it was hard to make out what it was. We walked through something that looked like a front room with vast old-fashioned sofas, but then there was a long fish-tank with seriously menacing-looking fish inside; then a big old refrigerator, then wooden chairs with people in deep conversation; it all lead out to a jetty where the boats were waiting. There were 24 in our group and we were divided up between two boats. I knew everyone in my boat, bar one or two and although conversation was a bit difficult most of the time, it was really nice to be with that gang. We spent a lot of time on those boats.

Eric had had Swedish visitors before, I think. Spot my bag!

So, out and across Sandakan Bay and then the trip up the Kinabatangan River started. We made our first stop after about an hour, at Abai Jungle Lodge, where we had lunch.

The food was good; the food was good all the time, though we got the same dishes, more or less, at every meal (except breakfast). Fried rice, chicken in a well-seasoned sauce, sometimes lamb, often fish and nearly always prawns. Stir-fried green vegetables, sweetcorn a few times and always fresh fruit for pudding. However, we now faced another wine moment. I do not remember the actual sequence of things, but we soon realised that the staff at the two jungle lodges had not counted on providing for 42 thirsty Swea:s. We found at first that there was a solitary bottle of Merlot, kept in the fridge, at Abai Jungle Lodge; but somehow some more was procured. At the next lodge (we'll get there soon) they had a few bottles, proudly presented to us: "this is WHITE wine and this is RED wine. " K from California organised the white wine to be cool and the red wine to be brought to room temperature. And when we returned to Abai the next day, there was plenty there too. There is no land/road connection to Abai, so some how the grapevine ("Jungle drum in Swedish!!) must have worked all the way back to Sandakan.

Another longish - about 1 1/2 hours - boat ride took us to our lodgings for the night - Sukau Riverside Lodge.

No lipstick was used, I promise, but little camphor balls made the room smell like an old attic.

The whole lodge complex is build on boardwalks and shoes were to be shed almost immediately on alighting from the boat - but we could put them on again for walking to our cabins. It is a really pretty place, with masses of flowers growing in between the boardwalks, on the banks of the little streams that run in and out through the area.

The first thing we saw after getting off the boats was our luggage, neatly standing in rows, waiting for us. This lodge has a road connection and they had been taken there by car, or truck or whatever. I was a relief to know that I would have a slightly wider choice of clothes...

My porch 

Cabin bag and short skirts aside, this is supposed to give you that colonial feel........

We were only given a few minutes to unload our stuff before it was time to go on our first river safari. I had read up on Sukau Riverside Lodge and knew it was simple, but spotlessly clean with a comfortable bed. The weather was awful, but it did not actually rain when we set out in smaller, uncovered boats. We travelled at a much more comfortable speed now, along the wide, muddy river. The banks are covered with tall green vegetation, more or less all the way down to the banks. We saw some small villages along the way; many houses on "stilts" and a privy down by the riverside - no need to flush! We saw a large toucan, black-and-white rather than colourful, egrets, cormorants, swallows, and the last day, a colibri. But we were out to see the proboscis monkey, and we saw quite a few! These monkeys have very large noses, and the larger, the better, the females think. In fact, the ones with the biggest noses have proper harems!

It has been a little while since I last updated this blog - it is about time I finished my Malaysian tale! We are getting there.

That evening was sarong night. The sarongs were provided by the lodge and Eric showed us how to put them on. The evening was, however, dominated by the "spa experience" - many of us descended on the little spa and had various massages and ear candleing. I am not sure that was a good idea for me, but I did it, anyway plus a lovely foot massage/reflexology.

Malaysia - Sabah, 20 March 2011

This looked and sounded a bit like a bonang, but it says Kulintangan at the front. Lovely sound.

Alarm set for five o'clock! The adventure was about to begin. The mysterious rumours about our luggage had started before, however. Question was, were we going to be allowed to take our suitcases with us into the jungle? Some knew for certain that this was not the case. They were going to be put into lockers at the airport and we would only be allowed hand luggage. Some doubted this, but thought there might be some truth in it. I belonged to the latter group. But I did not go as far as E., who bought a really unnecessary backpack in one of the hotel shops. I don´t think she even liked it.

Don't be shy now, admit it, you didn´t know that Borneo is divided between three different countries, Indonesia, Brunei and Malaysia, did you now? If you did, just keep that annoying bit of information to yourself, old cleverclogs. Sabah is Malaysia's second largest state and sits on the northeastern tip of Borneo. This is where we were heading to this Sunday morning. The flight was about two hours, so it must have been a little distance. We landed at Kota Kinabalu and then transferred by bus to our hotel, the Sutera Harbour Resort. My large red suitcase was still with me. This resort is vast, by the sea; my room had a distinct colonial flavour to it - all dark woods and crisp white bedspread, a fantastic view over the sea; but we were only allowed ten minutes, for an excursion to Manukan Island was next on the programme. From the harbour it was only a short boat-ride to this rather unimposing island where we were served lunch, barbecue style, with several kinds of grilled local fish. We had been promised an afternoon of snorkeling round the island, but in fact swimming/snorkeling was restricted to a little area by the beach where we had lunch. S. from California donned the gear and efficiently snorkeled away - only to come back and tell us there was nothing interesting down there. Taking her word for it, I just swam for ages. Very relaxing. Ah well, then it started raining. Really pouring down. I think we were all a little surprised. The guide said, when asked if such downpours were normal: "Yes, this happens at least four times a week!" The boat was not covered and it felt like having a shower of thumbtacks thrown at my face. For some reason the transfer back from the harbour to the resort did not turn up to collect everybody, so we walked. It was not far and the rain had nearly stopped. Such a lovely hotel. I love it when there are unexpected little corners, a water feature here, a magnificent flowerbed - Hibiscus in particular -  there.

There was a wonderful spa, too. Several of my friends had the same idea as I had and had booked themselves in for treatments; mine was "Fancy Fotwork", a cross between reflexology and foot massage. The atmosphere in the Spa was beautifully relaxed, one was given ginger tea and treated like royalty. It's fun doing these things when your friends are there, too - it's the "what did you have? Wasn't it great? Are you going to buy that tangerine body lotion - yes so am I" -kind of talk which is strangely reassuring. All your troubles seem far away, there and then. And yet, there we were in the midst of foreign lands, not really knowing what was happening next. To us or the luggage. Walking back to the lobby I found a Jim Thompson shop which was still open at this late hour. I bought a lovely little blue silk toilet bag, to complement the one J. gave me for Christmas one year. "The girls" were all in the lobby bar; perhaps not as loud as normal - we had been up since five, after all. The sisters, M & N, had ordered too much food. They gave me their leftovers, some very tasty chicken-nuggety-type of thing. I had a G&T. Lordy how good that was! We did not stay long - an even earlier morning call was booked for the next day.

Malaysia, 19 March 2011

My thoughts this morning wandered back to the same stage of the proceedings two years ago, in Washington DC. How stressed I was, running about getting things copied at a nearby copying shop (because it was too expensive to copy in the hotel), finding batteries for the voice recorder, being so tired from sitting up until one o´clock going over the agenda for the umpteenth time. How different the world outside the hotel, with the clean air and vast spaces of downtown Washington, just a few blocks away from the White House. When I got to the conference room today, B., my successor, seemed very calm and looked great in her smart teal knit suit.


Lessons were learned from the previous AGM in Washington. All chapter presidents had been given designated seats and some light notes were introduced. However, the formality can not be altered and we were all grateful the proceedings were brief. Just a few items left after lunch. Our International President is an absolute marvel. How long has she been going? is it six year, longer? Always in a good mood, with boundless energy. Finding a worthy successor is going to be hard!

For me, the most interesting parts of these AGM:s are when the recipients of the scholarships are announced, and the Swedish Woman of the Year. This year she is Christina Lampe-Önnerud, a pioneer in the field of environmentally friendly batteries. She now lives in Boston. See http://www.swea.org/ for further details.

photo: Fredrik Nilsson

The food served for lunch and at break-time was delicious and most appetisingly displayed.

There was a Q&A session after the AGM. I thought it went well. The atmosphere was different from two years ago; interested and enquiring. Some good questions were asked - and some good answers given. I know this sounds trite, but it is true that it is so easy to complain; much harder to achieve improvements. A session of "Laughter Yoga" ended the afternoon!

Believe it or not, we now had several hours of free time before the evening's grand dinner. R and I decided to take a walk; after a slightly zig-zag-y walk we finally found a "real" shopping centre - where normal people shop, i.e. not one where Prada and Louis Vuitton have huge shiny boutiques, like the one opposite the hotel, and actually in the hotel. It was a maze of hundreds of little shops; I think mostly run by Chinese. We hadn´t got far when R decided to have her hair done. Being manically afraid of losing my bearings I only ventured out onto two of the many floor, thinking "left at the beauty parlour with the red umbrellas, left again at the shoe shop with black trainers in the window, right at the juice bar with the girl in a purple track suit serving (fervently hoping she wouldn´t finish her shift before I got back)". I t all looked the same, you see. I bought a watch which cost me about three pounds, blue plastic strap. It still works today, so quite a good buy, wouldn´t you say?

I am now worried that this is beginning to resemble War and Peace - in quantity, not quality. So, since I really want to write about my experiences in Borneo, I will be very brief about the last evening. It was, however, very nice. Two years ago, when I had worked like a Trojan for months before the World Meeting and worked 18-hour days while actually in Washington, I was seated at the worst possible table at the Grand Dinner - we were in a corner, next to the door everyone went in & out through with this ice cold draught entering every time it was opened. We had to beg for food to be served and ended up sharing the crumbs they threw at us. Wine was not served at all until it was practically time to leave. We could not hear what went on on the stage. The humiliation was complete a couple of days afterwards when a person who had put in about a hundredth of the work I had,  sent an e-mail to the Board saying how pleased she was to have been seated at the VIP table. Oooooh, that was good to get off my chest! I was at a nice table this time. There was a splendid master (mistress?) of ceremonies, there was dancing, a fashion show, good food, lovely people....

Malaysia, 18 March

Kuala Lumpur Railway Station 1920´s

Water Colour Painting by Kasim Abas

Unfortunately, my lone (dead) cockroach was not "lone" after all. I was up early to wash my hair and now they were everywhere, merrily rushing across the wall and lazily sleeping among my underwear. Yuck. I decided to think for a while before saying anything. I had breakfast in the right place this time. Isn't it amazing how once you are inside one of these large rooms inside a hotel, without windows, round tables, tablecloths down to the floor - well you could be anywhere?


The World Meeting took place in the Ritz Carlton Hotel, joined-up with the Marriott. There were several interesting speeches. Fredric Härén had us all in stitches with his thoughts on innovation and copying, being a "developing" nation or a "developed" one. Some amazing stories from Asia, where "developing" means just that - and at a breathtaking pace. I bought his book. He very kindly donated his fee! The most moving talk of the day came from a girl who lives in Japan. She told us a little of her and other SWEA families' situation. I think everyone cried. We took a little comfort from hearing that SWEA takes good care of its members.


A little aside now, folks. I plan to write more here, for this blog, once I have finished my tale from Malaysia and it will not contain the word "SWEA" every day - or even every week. Promise.


Lunch was in one corner of the huge conference room. It was good. Just me, suspecting peanuts everywhere. Maybe I'm not even allergic to them now? I haven't dared eat one since I was fifteeen.


Afternoon. Workshops. Only just a little chaotic, but good. Good that the ordinary Swea had her say. Let's hope the outcome does not get filed away, but taken to heart and used.

For over forty years, Hakka restaurant has been serving food to tourists and "natives" This is not a smart or elegant place; the food is the most important part, described as "Chinese food  - the Malaysian way". For those of us who were staying at the JW Marriott, it was easy to get there. Escorts stood in the lobby and took small groups on a short walk, across the street, past the Pavilion shopping center, through the pedestrian area – and then we were there. We sat at big round tables, with a spinning device in the middle, so that all could reach the food (a "lazy Susan" - I have always wondered who this lazy lady is). We sat under the stars in the hot and humid air that we had become accustomed to as being the normal atmosphere in Kuala Lumpur. But pretty soon a few drops came from the sky, and lo and behold, there was a ceiling which was rolled out so that we were protected, but still outside, if you see what I mean. Thousands of small lights lit up the room.

At my table sat old friends and SWEA members who I never met before. Stockholm, London, Rome, Seattle, Orange County, Hong Kong ... ... Just as it should be at a SWEA dinner.

In a predominantly Muslim country, alcohol is, of course, an unexplored area. This evening, and later, during the Borneo trip, we saw that knowledge of wine was nil. Several at my table ordered beer, and this arrived quickly. But I and my friend (who lives in Italy) and one other Swea wanted to drink wine. But it was not so simple. The waitress did not want to take the order; it was someone else's job. It took probably five reminders before that person arrived. The unknown-to-me Swea ordered a bottle from the wine list, which we, being high and mighty, laughed at a bit, misspelled and pompous as it was. Cheteau instead of Chateau, "pacate" instead of "palate" and so on. After a good long wait a small bottle arrived, about the size of those you get on flights - and a completely different kind from what she had ordered.  The unknown Swea pointed out the mistake and was told that what she had ordered was "a BIG bottle." Explanations - she would share it - were offered and the bottle arrived. Well, what am I saying by this? Maybe I just want to introduce a maxim, not at all new, but one I will attempt to live by: “When in a strange land, empty your mind of preconceived notions! "

The food was good, some a bit spicy, some not. Chicken, pork, vegetables, noodles, rice, fruit. The evening's funniest part was when we "competed" with a group of local men, who made a terrible racket away in a corner of the main dining room. "Ooooooohhhhhh" they shouted, stood up and shouted. Poor things. They did not know who their opponents were. A resounding chorus of "Happy Birthday" to a birthday Swea, followed by, I fear, some Swedish drinking songs – it was essential that everyone know the words – at least at times quieted down the guys in the corner.We walked home in the velvet dark humid night; along the way is a glass fountain that changes colour. Quite fairy-like. It was a good evening.

(The above, about my Hakka restaurant visit, is a translation of an article I have written for the SWEA home page. I translated it using Google translate; it made me laugh quite a lot. I corrected it and probably spent more time on it than I would have done doing the translation myself. Anyway, if it differs a bit in style and typography from the rest, you´ll know why).

During the day I had decided to say something about the you-know-what to the President of SWEA KL, a thoroughly stylish, friendly and competent young lady. When I arrived back from Hakka, a delightful letter was waiting for me in my room, saying how sorry they /the hotel management/ were about my recent "unpleasantness." There was a huge bowl of fresh fruit and a plate of the most delicious chocolates. I never saw any c:s again in my room. Heaven knows what they did.

Malaysia, 17 March

I woke up late and found a cockroach in my bathroom. Decided it was a one-off, killed it and photographed it. See above. Breakfast in the same place - getting a little boring now, but with great companions, L. from HK who is always a tonic, and wonderful C. from Greece (tho it took until the Monday before I remembered what she was called, oh dear). I then read the notice board by the SWEA desk and found that there was a designated breakfast restaurant for us on the fourth floor. However, I never got charged for eating in the wrong place. I went for a swim in the hotel pool, outdoors on the 6th floor. I was the only swimmer. It was heaven. A little boy was playing in the children's pool, his mother in the shade nearby. She was wearing hijab, but her face was fully visible. However, she was leaning her face forwards, covering it with her hands and soon she pulled out a scarf and held it in front of her face. The only man present was a bony old gardener who silently cut the grass around a tree with hand shears. Later someone told me that pale skin equals high status;, I think she was just protecting herself from the sun.

I went for a walk, this being my only "free" morning. So much traffic, so much noise... I really felt the life of the city going on around me. Crossing the street took forever, the crowds around me huge. The Monorail thundered past above my head - the carriages decorated in the coolest fashion. I met two Swea:s from China, who had been shopping for shoes. We had lunch in a little place near the hotel. I ordered an ice coffee, which arrived with a dollop of ice cream on top. Not thinking, I pushed the straw down into the glass. REALLY clever! There was coffee everywhere, but most of it on my pale cream satin skirt. L. had one thousand wet wipes in her handbag. Unbelievably, I got it all out.

In the afternoon, I attended the SWEA Western Europe ( also incl South Africa) Regional  Meeting. It turned out I was, at least at first, the only visitor and so was given a seat at the table. So nice of them. Soon the Legal Advisor arrived and had a long discussion with the Oslo President - about taxes and compliance. Got quite agitated it did. The meeting proper went very well. The Regional President is excellent at avoiding stifling formality without veering into the realms of sillyness. There were familiar faces round the table, and some new ones, and then Å., who has made a come-back. Lovely to see her. I had a little free time afterwards and caught up on my e-mail. You can see the view from my hotel room on the 64th floor above - you may spot me in there, too. Below, you can just see me at the poolside.

In the evening, there was a welcome reception by the pool.Finally that moment arrived where we said "Ooooooh, are you here? And you too? Oooooh, mwah!!! mwhah!! Mwah!" Usual speeches. The ambassador and his wife, a young couple  She told the story of how she became a SWEA member, long time ago, in Santiago de Chile. She had met the daughter of a SWEA London President, who had enticed her into the association. Of course SWEA no longer has a chapter in Latin America. I later found out who the London President was - my old friend I. Unfortunately, the Swedish Embassy is closing down later this year. I shall never understand the rationale behind these closures. SWEA International's Board was introduced; for every person appearing on the stage, a few personal details were added. "She likes to run along the shore in the morning"...An attempt to become the "People's Board?" The Committee for the World Meeting was also introduced and warmly applauded, in spite of this just being the beginning. Everything works so well.

In previous years, this has been the evening where a buffet is served and one leaves starving. Not so this year - the "light buffet" was masses of wonderful food, served at various "stations", one for meat, one vegetables, one pudding, etc. There was as much wine as you wanted, however, the way of serving it was a bit curious; a thimbleful poured into a glass, glass torn away from you the second you were finished (or just before), and a new glass with another thimbleful in it offered. They must have very large dish-washers. There was a raffle too, with the top prize being a painting by local artist Kuen Stephanie. It was won by B from New Jersey  -the roll containing the prize came with us everywhere on the trip to Borneo - on the boats, through the jungle....

I ended up at a table with several old friends and the new head of The Swedish Institute, who was due to speak the next day. An interesting new touch was the several activities going on poolside: batik making, henna hand painting, caricatures and calligraphy. Stupidly enough I didn't see this until the end. Too much chatting. I would have loved to have had my hands painted. However, I did manage a fairly early night.

Malaysia, 16 March 2011

I felt like a new woman after a shower in my lovely marble-clad bathroom. I was about to embark on an 8-day sejour with a hundred and fifty Swedish women. No wonder I needed a single room! I phoned C, who had arrived from New Jersey, via Copenhagen, and asked if she was up for some shopping. She was. I had already registered my presence on the mezzanine floor of the hotel, where some incredibly efficient and calm KL Swea:s handled the arrival of all those visitors from around the globe. We asked somebody about handbags. That's what we wanted. You'll understand, if you know me. She suggested Chinatown, gave us an address and off we went. That is all I saw of Chinatown during my stay - the visit lasted all of 30 minutes, but we came away with three bags. One for me.


So Musings. I had wondered before what to expect. My only previous visit to Kuala Lumpur was a four-hour stop-over at the airport, with I. in 1971. Would it be like China - Hong Kong -, like Vietnam, like Indonesia? What I saw here was a huge city, teeming with a muchness.. of everything, simmering with people, cars, shops trains ...and the heat, the wet-blanket heat! Thing is, you can read all the signs, so you don't feel as foreign as you do in China. And from the very darkest corners of my brain a few phrases came back, in Indonesian, but fully useable here. C had been summoned by The SWEA Board, so she left the taxi at a sprint. I was getting a bit hungry now and asked those serene girls at the SWEA desk where to eat. They pointed me in the direction of a sort of glorified food court, named "Feast Village" and I had a pasta. The International Board of SWEA were having lunch a few yards away. Such familiar faces, and yet how far away they all seemed now... I have no idea what their problems, plans and joys are. The doings of The Board are once again shrouded in mystery. Then, suddenly they all got up and hurriedly left, all passing right by my table. Presumably for the meeting with C. I just saw them go right past me without even seeing me. It was an eerie feeling. Finally our Founder saw me. Trust her! Also lovely M. and dear I. from Stockholm.


I had booked a city tour for the afternoon. Oh, how very near I came to chickening out. Jet lag affects me badly these days, and what with not being a 100% anyway.... but I went. Our guide was an Indian Malaysian - there is a great mixture of different origins here; they pride themselves on living in perfect harmony. This guide was a bit strange, to put it mildly; he had no idea who we were and pitched his spiel tentatively low, asking if we understood words like "original" etc, or high, launching into complicated political soliloquies. I feel so stupid to admit this, but I have really vague memories of what we saw. There was a war memorial and a palace, where we only saw the gates. Then we arrived at a giant golden statue. Somes caves were worth visiting, up a staircase of 276 steps. I am not entirely sure how I did it. It was so hot and I was so tired. The cup of tea I had in the little café after coming down was one of the best ever.

We also stopped for a phot op - of the Petronas towers, but as you can see, we were so close that they were hard to snap. It would have been great to get up there, but I gather admission is limited and a bit complicated. I heard afterwards that some had managed it. They must have been among those young ones, with more energy than me!

We had supper in another restaurant in "Feast Village", "Enak", a Malaysian place. I realised that Malaysian also (as well as bahasa indonesia - and Danish!!) has glottal stops when I heard them pronouncing "Enak" with a g.s. at the end. Not even my lingustically interested friend R from London thought this remotely interesting. "Is that so? was her stony answer. I decided to keep musings on glottal stops to myself in the future. There were four of us, three from London, one from Rome. We ate really good food and drank three bottles of wine. I slept like a log!

Malaysia

15 - 16 March 2011
Lucky me! The two seats next to me on the plane were free. So, slightly less worried about having a DVT in a strange country. Kuala Lumpur Airport is quite new, vast and very confusing. From the gate - where I immediately lost my travelling companions - I walked and walked, through rows of smart and not-so-smart shops, along corridors, up and down staircases, doggedly following the signs for baggage reclaim. Then I hit on a crowd, blocking my way. They were all waiting for a bus. I climbed on the bus, by now convinced I was lost, got off, walked and walked, up some escalators and lo and behold, the passport control. This was easy now! It only took 50 minutes for the bag to arrive, by which time our pre-booked transfer had given up. But we got there in the end, there being the JW Marriott in downtown Kuala Lumpur. Very elegant. Lovely room with an enormous bed.

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