I left Vietnam happy and satisfied that I had experienced more than most as part of the Intrepid tour. Along the way, we had come across so many people travelling independently who said that they weren't enjoying the country because the people were unfriendly (or on occasion, downright rude) and that all they seemed to face was hostility. I think Chinh saved us from this trauma and we only had limited exposure to the population. I also think that the language that he taught us through the trip allowed us some leniency and better treatment from the locals who at least felt we were making an effort!

And so I travelled to the airport ready to depart for first Singapore and then on to Bali for my Indonesian adventure. I was SO excited about Bali, having wanted to go there all my life. My first obstacle was clearing customs.....! When I booked the trip around Vietnam, I was aware that the visa I had for the country did not extend to the last day when i could fly out to somewhere else; I was a day short. This being the case, I mentioned it to Intrepid on the phone and again to Chinh when he did our passport checks. All the way through, I was assured that 1 day would be no problem and if it was more than one day, I would just have to pay a daily fine of about $5 so I really wasn't concerned. I even took the liberty of checking in a few travel agents in Saigon just to make sure that Intrepid weren't telling porky pies (not that I had any reason to disbelieve them) and they confirmed the info I had.

Imagine my concern then when I was told at the airport that I couldn't check in and that I would have to speak to immigration to fill in a new visa form. 'Ok' I thought, 'that isn't too much of a problem' and once this had been done, check in progressed smoothly. Next, I was stopped by customs who informed me that I had to pay a fine. I explained that I shouldn't have to and that I had checked extensively and nobody had said that this was the case (retrospectively, I think the customs man just wanted to line his pockets like a typical Vietnamese) and that an overstay of 1 day was meant to be ok. He duly shrugged and said follow me and I was led to what I affectionately refer to as the plastic glove room. At this point I started to think that I should probably have paid the fine and been done with it but I stood my ground - albeit with my back to the wall both metaphorically and physically!

About half an hour passed and numerous official looking people came in and demanded to see my passport from the little man who was holding it looking stern and eventually, someone of Officer rank appeared and told me that I was a bad man for overstaying my welcome and that it was in his power to let me go but I should never do it again or I would not be allowed into Vietnam again! I readily agreed and the door to the plastic room was opened and golden sunshine flooded in.

The flight passed without issue - in truth, I slept most of the way because of a combination of relief and exhaustion from 21 days hard travelling. Apparently the best way to travel is 4 weeks hard going and then take 2 weeks to stops somewhere to get over it and then continue. By this point, apart from 5 days in Sihanoukville, I had been moving location every 2 or 3 days for the past 4 months (something i have continued pretty well consistently in the 6 months I have been away).

I landed in Singapore and it was like stepping into a different world. It was clean, there were no beggars or people trying to shine my shoes, people trying to sell me knock off watches and NOBODY trying to sell me transport of any kind. Amazing! I got on the MRT to the city and arrived without issue in Little India (a place that was to become very familiar to me over the next couple of months) and went to the hostel of choice - The Inn Crowd. At this point, I discovered 2 important lessons; firstly, the Inn Crowd is very popular and is usually full - as are most of the hostels in Singapore so it is important to book well ahead to be assured of a bed - something I hadn't done anywhere before. Secondly, there really aren't that many hostels in Singapore. Indeed, considering that there are so many people using the city as a transit point either on their way to Indochina or on the or way home, there seemed to be a distinct dearth of hostels. The problem I had was compounded by the fact that I had arrived at about 7pm and the hostels tended to fill their walk in spaces by 1400hrs so fate was against me. I walked for 2 hours looking for a place to stay and even discovered that some of the places in my Rough Guide (2005) didn't even exist anymore - instead being carparks, abandoned or office blocks/malls. I eventually decided that the best way to solve this problem was with money and used the handy credit card to get myself a room on Bencoolen Street which after some of the places I had stayed, was like staying in Raffles itself! I also took the liberty of returning to Little India and booking myself a room in the Prince of Wales hostel (Inn Crowd was unsurprisingly, full) for the remaining nights.

Over the next few days in Singapore, I set myself a little mission to try and see as many of the places in the city where my mother was born that she referred to in her emails to me and get pictures of them all to send back. What followed was a mammoth walkabout during which I slowly fell in love with Singapore. I loved the modern, clean feel of the place and thoroughly agreed with most of the rules, which by some are seen to be draconian measure to inhibit freedom of action. I felt that the whole placve was vibrant and overflowing with a colourful Colonial history alike no other city. There was no way I was going to see the entire place in 3 days and I prioritised. I also spent some time in the national archives and the local churches trying to find a copy of my grandparent's marriage certificate and my mother's christening but sadly to no avail. I spent one entire day in the colonial district walking through parks, looking at Raffles (I saved drinking the Singapore Sling for when Ali came over) and finding the hospital where mum was born.

The next day was spent in the rainforest - one of the only 2 cities in the world with a piece of primary rainforest still in existence (the other is KL) and it is free to the public. I enjoyed a strenuous run/walk up the highest hill in Singapore, albeit it isn't that high, and a jaunt around the forest tracks taking pics of various animals and bugs I saw along the way. I had memories of my A level Biology field trip spring to mind although the weather was a darn site hotter here!

It was only that evening that I discovered that my flight to Bali wasn't in fact from Singapore and in a rice wine fuelled moment, I had actually booked it from KL. The pressure was on to get there in 2 days and I didn't really know where to start. Thankfully the hostel staff were brilliant and told me what was required (the easy way - I did the harder but cheaper way several times later on) and the next morning I set off for Malacca/Melaka. This was a gorgeous little town about halfway between Singapore and KL and I only had one night there. Sadly, I arrived too late to see the museums but I did manage to pack in most of the sights which nearly all sit around the base of the hill upon which sits Bukit St Paul - a very old church built by the Spanish invaders. The whole town was thronging with colonial history which was slightly odd as it had been the heart of the Malaccan Empire, which included Singapore and most of the Malay Peninsula at one point and yet there didn't seem to be any sites of interest referring to this. When I checked into the hostel, I met an extremely eccentric manager (Raymond) and the owner (Howard) who insisted on introducing everyone to everyone and at this point I met a great crowd of MBA students all studying in Singapore but from all over the world - Germany, Argentina, America, Canadia (oops!) and they were more than happy to add a Brit to their numbers who was heading to KL also. I also met 2 English girls (well - mid 30s) who had just arrived in Singapore and got on the wrong bus and ended up in Malacca but were, 'sure they would reach KL sometime'!

We all headed out with Raymond to Capital Satay for the evening and indulged in a giant feat of satay sticks cooked in a spicy peanut sauce vat which is embedded in the middle of your table which is then regularly refilled by the young girls working there who heap dollops of various powdered sauces into the vat and vigorously stir it thereby dislodging all of the satays from the sticks. The result is a kind of 'peanutty' luck dip where you hunt around with a spare stick and see what you get!

The next morning, having suffered once more at the hands of the dreaded rice wine, a karaoke rehearsal for the Chinese new year and the revelry of the night market, I awoke (on the sofa) and headed with the two English girls (on the right bus) to KL. The supposed 3 hour journey took 5 and we had arranged to meet the 'MBA crew' who had different bus tickets, at a hostel they were booked into.

We arrived in KL not knowing at all where we were. In KL there are 2 bus stations and Pudu Raya, where we were dropped, is interesting because the buses don't actually drop you at the station; the drop you about 200m away from it in a quiet street so you have no idea where you are and no idea where to go. I followed the masses and ended up at KFC for lunch where we scrutinised maps and tried to work out where we were. Having failed in this endeavour, we asked a local and finally made it to the train.

A short jaunt across the city followed and the rain started to pour as we tramped around the streets trying to find the hostel. Nobody seemed to know where it was and we got sent in all sorts of directions with it finally turning out that the hostel was actually within spitting distance of the monorail station and we had walked in a giant circle looking for the place! We arrived soaked but relieved and 20 mins later, the others arrived (having splashed out on a taxi).

We all chilled out and about 2 hours later, somebody said that they were hungry. What followed was a mass exodus of EVERYONE in the hostel (about 20 people) on a walk into town. The only reason I mention it is the hilarity of the whole thing - a group of 20 people with no idea of where to go but with the quest for booze and food driving them all onward. It was almost primeval! We eventually ended up at the Crowne Plaza (who needless to say weren't too keen to allow entry to 20 travellers so we were ushered into taxis and sent to Chinatown where we could drink and eat cheaply - and boy oh boy did we!

The next day, VERY bleary eyed, I awoke just in time to make it to the airport and head off to Bali. Thankfully I had arranged all the transfers and pickups before 'the night' in KL as the old body wasn't firing on all cylinders that day. Now I know that you are all judging me for this drinking to excess thing but I assure you, it wasn't my fault! Honestly, I was keeping the British end up when the Aussies and Yanks and Kiwis were pouring the drinks! I was, by now, exhausted and in need of some beach time. I would have to wait a few more days but the wait was so worth it!!