After an hour, the bus turned up and I hopped aboard to find many staring faces and chitter chatter, nothing I wasn't used to already. I remembered part of the drive to Taiping and after getting a taxi to Hotel Furama the receptionist confirmed that he remembered me too. Several Malaysians I have spoken to along the way, after hearing my name, called me Richard the Lion Heart and the receptionist was no exception taking up the nickname once more. He asked me what floor I'd like to be on and I said the 1st but I was then presented with a key for a room on the top floor so I had to trudge up the stairs with my bags. Malaysia, being a tropical country, sees its fair share of rain and Taiping has the highest rainfall in Malaysia. It rains every day, usually in late afternoon, but the receptionist said that this was slowly changing due to global climate change. I settled into my good sized, familiar room and did a little unpacking. After the taxi ride and walking around Taiping I realised that it had changed. The whole road network had been resurfaced from its terrible crumbling state to a much improved flat [ish] state of new tarmac - they'd even put in road markings. Nice new buildings had been erected and the place was looking better than I'd previously seen it.

I went looking for food and my favourite haunt from the year before, the Piano Cafe. They had a wide selection of good food, nice ice cream and tasty drinks of all kinds. It amused me greatly how they would, as soon as I set foot inside the cafe, change the music from what sounded like Malaysian pop to European classical every time I went in. I wasn't complaining though as I enjoyed listening to the likes of Bach, Mozart and Tchaikovsky while sat next to a grand piano. Once, I managed to sneak in and sit down with a menu but it wasn't long before I saw a lady, whom I assumed to be the owner, tell a staff member to change the music at once. When I got there, though, it had gone, to be replaced by Japanese sushi bar in late July 2009. I found a new, more modern, cafe which also had free Wi-Fi instead. Taiping was the first settlement built by the British, as a nearby town to exploit the rich tin reserves with mines that provided much wealth to the town and for the region, although these have long since gone. As such, it is known as the town of 31 firsts with the first railway, museum, lake gardens, zoo, post office and many others but I don't think it was the first town in Malaysia to have a cafe with Wi-Fi.

I woke up, just before my alarm, to the sound of a cockerel crowing. I got up and dressed ready to tackle Maxwell Hill or as it is now called, Bukit Larut, and realised that something that hadn't changed was the determined mosquitoes which somehow infiltrated my room to feast on my blood. I went straight to the Lake Gardens where I would commence my days walking. I was lucky that my walk to the zoo every morning would involve going through the peaceful and immaculate gardens which was mainly comprised of a series of lakes and pools with islands and bridges providing a path of exploration. Maxwell Hill provided a beautifully scenic backdrop for the gardens that was almost perfectly mirrored in the still waters of the lakes and was ripe for taking pictures. I did so from a small carved stone jetty, painted white, when I was approached by a Malaysian man on a motorbike. This wasn't unusual as many people, especially in the seemingly Westerner free zone of Taiping, liked to wave and beep from cars or stop me to ask where I was from and what I was up to. People usually either assume I'm English or Australian and he was no different, assuming the later, but didn't seem genuinely interested and he quickly changed the subject to something far more unsavoury and I picked up my bag to leave at which point he drove at me with his bike! I managed to jump out of his path and walked calmly away. The ordeal left me feeling rather freaked out but I didn't let that hamper my day. Through the gardens, I was walking along a road with no pavement, which is normal, when I saw a man on a motorbike, again, stare at me, turn around and drive back passed me. He did this three more times before stopping to ask where I was from, if I was alone, where I was going and if I wanted a lift there. I politely declined and walked on to the safety of the entrance of the Hill where public vehicles were not allowed. I saw him, beyond the barrier, ringing someone and shortly after his friends on bikes turned up. Only hours into my week long stay, Taiping was not proving to be the sleepy, geriatric-filled place I remembered it to be.

I took refuge in a small cafe and ordered noodles and Milo then bought a ticket for a ride in a Land Rover up the hill as I had looked at a map and saw that it was much longer than I realised. As I sat and ate my scrumptious noodles I saw wild hornbills delicately pick pea sized fruits off trees with their large and brightly coloured beaks. A massive beetle, probably the size of a tennis balls with its wings out, tried landing on me but I brushed it away before it had chance as I didn't think it would be possible to just flick it off once I had to get in the car.

With some Malaysians in the back, and me in the front, we set off in the royal blue Land Rover to climb the steep road up to the region's highest point. We edged passed one of many landslides and it was possible to see lumps of road and bits of metal barrier that had plunged down the hillside. The way up was long and steep and we came across another point where the road was being resurfaced so we had to sit and wait. It was a little disturbing how no matter how hard the driver pulled on the handbrake, it wouldn't hold the cars weight so he was forced to use the foot brake and we rolled back as we restarted the ascent. I had every faith in the old Landie, less so in the driver. Eventually, I started seeing the odd building, cottages where people came to stay, and I realised that Bukit Larut really is the oldest and least developed hill resort in Malaysia. Each bungalow had an established garden but the bungalows themselves didn't look like they would make a particularly nice retreat. At the top we all jumped out and I was, for the sixth and final time, asked if I was sure that I didn't want a lift down again. It felt peaceful and quiet but a little eerie from the undoubtedly empty buildings.

I was advised to follow the road up a little to get a better view, so I did and was rewarded with a panoramic, far reaching view over Taiping and even out into the west coast and beyond, out to sea. Butterflies, as if with wings of elaborately painted stained glass, filled the air and flapped around erratically in the midday sun. They were difficult to photograph as they would not stay still for any period of time and so filled the atmosphere with bright colours of varying patterns which was mesmerising to watch. I heard the thud of rapidly beating wings and looking down to see a bright green olive-backed sunbird (basically a hummingbird) sipping at nectar from a bright red trumpet. I was given some strange looks as, with my macro lens attached, I laid prone taking pictures of crickets and other insects that were fascinating to look at. Curiously, they didn't really have the art of camouflage, being black, yellow, red and green so I assumed that that was some indication of its taste, or a hint to a predator not to try. One particularly unusual bug was one that seemed to have a perfectly circular and transparent glass plate on its back with just its six little feet poking out of the edge. It span around on the spot as it tried to decide where to go and what to do.

It had already gone midday when I started the 11km descent and it hadn't rained yet so I wanted to get on with my hike. My progress wasn't consistent though as I kept stopping to look at the flora and fauna that surrounded me. There were ferns slowly unfurling their fronds and giant palms whose thin leaves gave a green hue from above. Birds gossiped in the trees as I stopped to inspect a massive caterpillar that I spotted. It looked like a small burnt-orange bottle brush with its thick bristles that covered the length of its black body. I removed a leaf that was acting as a parasol causing it to curl up like a Cumberland sausage before trying to make its escape at warp speed, for a caterpillar anyway, across the road. I spied a second caterpillar further down the hill that had wedged itself between a stem and a leaf. This one, of a similarly gigantic size, looked as if it was undergoing acupuncture with its fewer, longer and finer grey hairs that had white dots on the ends. It looked like it was wearing an astronaut's helmet with its large glossy white head that was almost reflective.

Unexpectedly, from my peripheral vision, I saw a black shadow, high up in the canopy, land with a crash and lots of rustling of leaves. My telephoto zoom was on within seconds and I could just see a small black gibbon staring back at me through the viewfinder as I started taking pictures. It had a messy tuft of coarse black hair coming from the top of its head and white fur around its eyes giving it a sad but inquisitive appearance. Its long slender tail gently swung in the breeze as it sat staring at me. I saw a female, with a baby clinging on for dear life, make the leap and the whole family sat happily in the trees eating leaves. I left them to their business and continued but they wouldn't be the only gibbons I saw.

Eventually, I started to pass other people going the other way. I read somewhere that the hill acted as a local gym and there were many taking advantage of it, some without shoes on. I stopped to talk to a couple of them and they seemed impressed that I'd tackled the hill in its entirety. People I spoke to invariably wanted to know where I'm from, usually down to town level. I'm constantly surprised by the number of people who know where Yorkshire is (going to university in London, I've met too many southerners that don't even know where Yorkshire is, apart from knowing it's outside the M25) and with football being so popular in Southeast Asia they usually know where Leeds is. It's nice, though, that the Malaysian people are so nice about my nationality. One would be forgiven for thinking that there might be some hostility or at least some bad feeling directed towards the Brit because of our colonisation of the region but rather than seeing it as a negative they see our shared history as a constructive experience and are more grateful than anything else, for example the provision of an infrastructure. This is my experience from the people I have spoken to anyway.

I headed into town to scour the new trendy eateries on offer and opted for one that was conveniently placed near the hotel and was on high recommendation by the receptionist. It sounded cheap and cheerful, being called 'Mr BBQ', but I later found that the food was rather good I returned several times to sample the extensive menu. On the menu there were a few peculiarities like chicken stir fry with Marmite. I wasn't tempted to try that particular one but I did sample some of the others which I highly enjoyed. I returned to my hotel room to find a small, mottled brown and yellow gecko firmly attached to the wall above my bed. I moved in for a closer look but it was a little shy and, defying gravity, scampered off into the bathroom.

My alarm clock noise changed to barking dogs the morning after, I needed to be at the zoo for eight o'clock, and I arrived to find Mr Lim's smiling face walking towards me. I started off by giving him the whiskey I had bought him for which he was grateful. We chatted briefly before doing the morning rounds. Next to the elephant enclosure was where the tapirs lived and an adult female needed its back scrubbing to remove some scabs that had developed during a skin condition. This was the first job of the day and was completed with nothing other than a used toilet brush, while I fed her with some vegetation I stole from the elephants. I'm not sure she really needed coaxing to stand still with the temptation of food as she seemed to quite enjoy the sensation of the toilet brush.

Back in the office, which wasn't so much an office, more like a place where anything animal related happened. The large room, which was growing something green on the walls and was home to something that made a lot of unusual noises, was where everything from paper work to taxidermy to surgical operations occurred and I was witness to the vast majority. There was a knock at the door; a scruffily dressed man clutching a plastic bag came in and Mr Lim explained that he had caught a venomous monocle cobra that we needed to inject with an anti-parasitic drug and inspect for ticks then take it to the snake house for addition to a tank. He said, quite seriously, that I should be the one to do it and that I shouldn't let it bite me, not that I was planning on letting it anyway, as just a small amount of venom would be enough to kill me. I smiled nervously as I opened the bag, through which its teeth could have easily penetrated, and thankfully Mr Lim caught it for me. Holding it by its head, he pinned it to his desk while I drew up the drug. As I did so, I read the label - "Doramectin: For use with swine only". I pulled up the skin and injected with no problems so we took it to release it with some snakes of the same species in one of the vivariums. On the way back Mr Lim showed me a travel cage, the sort they use for transport lions in aeroplanes, and in it was the biggest python both of us had ever seen. It was about twenty metres long, had a body the same thickness as my thighs and a head that could engulf a child with ease.

We went to check on some chimps afterward. One of the old males had some sort of mental problems and was self harming. They were called over and fed a selection of nuts so we could look at them more closely. The enclosure, whilst of decent size, had fake trees made from concrete with exposed steel cables that the chimps were hurting themselves on. We also went to check on one of the orang utans, one which I luckily became acquainted with on my previous experience at the zoo. It was on one of Mr Lim's days off that I worked with the primates. With Mr Lim not around, and not a lot of work to do, I spent my time with the obviously lonely two year old. I started by sitting in her night quarters, next to the mesh trap door. She would sit, looking sad, her hands through the bars, and watch people wander passed every day. As soon as she noticed me she came straight over, doing forward rolls all the way. She then sat and stared at me, I smiled back and she pulled out a long orange hair from the top of her head and picked up a small black ant with it then fed it through the bars offering it to me. I graciously accepted, picked up a piece of straw and did the same which she accepted by putting the whole thing in her mouth and then, after a quick chew, offered the ant back to me by pressing her pliable bottom lip through the bars. She quickly withdrew it in favour of her left index finger, which I held. It was quite moving, to be engaged so closely and intimately by another species - our shared evolutionary heritage felt more than apparent. She pushed her whole face up against the cage and poked as much of her long, powerful fingers through the bars, reaching out for me and, beaming, I grasped them, she then sighed. She expressed so much emotion and feeling while I was with her and whilst she obviously couldn't understand my words, I knew we were still communicating, and that she enjoyed it. I will never forget that feeling, or that moment.

Back with Mr Lim, we went to look at the big cats. The lion cubs, which I had jabbed the year before, had grown up and moved on only to be replaced with some, possibly even more, adorable tiger cubs. They were definitely on a par with the giant ant eaters at London zoo for the cuteness factor [seriously, giant ant eaters are cute, they don't sound it but they are!]. There were five of them, a large litter for a tiger, and were scampering and playing around, climbing all over their mother who was just laid calmly, accepting the onslaught, whilst looking at us with suspicion in that motherly protective way.

For an unknown reason, the zoo restaurant, which bizarrely was not inside the zoo, was closed so Mr Lim drove me to a market where we had Wan Tan Mee for lunch. The man that served us gave me chopsticks and then asked me if I knew how to use them. This wasn't such a silly question because one could easily go for weeks in Malaysia without having to use due to the widely used standard cutlery thanks to British intervention. After lunch we spent the afternoon making blow darts in preparation for some deer that needed to be caught and moved to Singapore zoo. He admitted that using the darts was a little primitive but he got the results he wanted equally well using the pipe as opposed to a gun. He didn't need a license for a blowpipe and it didn't scare the animals with a loud bang. As I continued making darts, he gave me a demonstration of his dancing skills. One of the many things that was introduced into the country during British rule was ballroom dancing which is still actively practised and enjoyed by many. It is the dream, he said, of many Malaysians to one day go to Blackpool which apparently hosts the world's most prestigious dancing contest, a concept I found difficult to understand, knowing what Blackpool is like.

Two weeks before I left for Dubai I had to start my anti-malarial medication called Lariam. I have to take it for fourteen weeks and, on prescription, was asked about any mental issues I had or family depression. The drug is worryingly blighted by many and permanent side affects which cause changes in the brain. Examples include, severe depression, suicidal tendencies, paranoia, bad dreams, aggression, anxiety, confusion, hallucinations and as well many others. After doing some research on the internet my worries were amplified and I was more than hesitant to start taking it but because of where I was going (resistance to other drugs now occurs) and the duration of my trip it was my only option. The permanent mental health issues, even if they were just temporary, made me feel uneasy about taking them, especially having to start during the stressful exam period but so far I have evaded any side effects at all. I have trouble sleeping anyway and dreams, including bad ones, are fairly common so that's nothing unusual for me. I sat and shoved the large white tablet down my neck as I devoured my noodles and Milo.

My morning walk to the zoo, like previous years, was a very busy one but not from rush-hour traffic. Instead, it seemed that half of the local population descended upon the peaceful lake gardens to perform various forms of Thai Chi. The slow, controlled, yet flowing movements of their bodies and limbs together with the soft, gently tones of the music gave the gardens a placid tranquillity that is difficult to explain. Swords, sticks and other implements were used to accentuate the motion in some cases but it was the humorous use of fans which I would found the most peculiar. The closed fans, one in each hand, were slowly moved in swirling motions then in one swift, synchronous motion they would be opened in a fraction of a second making a short, sharp unfolding noise which very briefly broke the otherwise calm atmosphere.

There was, again, no breakfast available at the restaurant the next day, it seemed the chef was on strike, so I just had an apple. Asking for an apple proved rather difficult because the girl assumed I meant apple juice and the lack of apple juice machine caused her mild panic so I had lean over and point to the small pile of apples, which looked like they didn't see much attention. She already knew how partial I was to Milo Ice so needed no prompting to make that.

Walking around the zoo, Mr Lim showed me how to make the male ostriches dance. He pretended to tap dance near the fence and the male that was looking came running over and half crouched then stuck out its large feathery wings and moved his neck from side to side in a snaking motion. It was funny to watch him continue for five minutes, with his eyes closed, even after Mr Lim had stopped. He then told me about a monkey that had escaped three days before my arrival, it managed to jump off the island on which it had lived for six years and attacked a volunteer! The offending monkey was put in quarantine, alone, and looked rather forlorn but was more than willing to have its belly scratched through the bars.

The big cats seemed to breed well and, as such, the zoo had a lot of them but not enough space to keep them all properly. To prevent fighting, they would only be allowed out for maybe once day per week which I found difficult to digest. They spent most of their time sat in a cage that was only just big enough to allow them to pace up and down. This caused one of the panthers to develop a large urine scold on the end of its tail as it had nothing else to do but sit around hoping that a keeper would clean it out or feed it. The wound needed cleaning, shaving and treating which luckily was my job. We made up the dart and prepared the equipment in the office. We had two boxes of equipment and the cats were at the other side of the zoo so Mr Lim said we should take the zoo ambulance though I had a feeling it wasn't going to be what it sounded like. I was right; it was a rusty old pushbike that was only good for fixing the boxes to the pannier rack on the back.

We got to the cages to meet the snarling, hissing black panthers. I was told not to stand too close to the bars as, despite the holes being fairly small, the panthers could still squeeze their paws through the hole and reach out to swipe at you, which Mr Lim demonstrated! He lined up the pipe and with one quick blow, the dart was in the rump of the animal before it knew what was happening. I started the stopwatch to watch what time the animal went down but after forty five minutes (it should only take fifteen) it was obviously still quite awake, though lying down, as it took a chunk out of the stick that Mr Lim used to poke it with. We had to draw up another dart and do it again and this time it worked. Mr Lim cautiously unlocked the only door and, with the stick, put a cloth over its head and eyes. I prepared the blade and cleaning material and then was told to go in and get started, on my own! Mr Lim hadn't even been in, its tail and paws were still twitching but I had to go in and get started before it woke up, which I did. In I went, knelt in the doorway should I need to make a hasty retreat, I got started making the bald patch even bigger so I could clean it properly. I was surprised at just how thick and soft its tail was, it was like a well-worn natural rope, like the ones used on tall ships, and as I was so close I could see the dark spots through its jet-black coat. I was a little nervous at first but as soon I was working I didn't think about anything else, like being eaten alive. I felt really privileged to able to do it. I finished by covering the wound in black goo, to prevent flies, and gave it an antibiotic and reversal injection to make it come round, which took a worryingly long time also. It eventually woke up, dazed and annoyed, so we left it to NOT lick its wounds. Mr Lim said I'd done a good job and it felt fantastic to have successfully treated a panther, I was more than satisfied.

After all the excitement in the big cat house, and with only an apple for breakfast, I was famished so we stopped for lunch. The chef could still not be found so the cashier, who I'd been talking to about my trip, said she would go and make me something in the back. Some fried rice came out after a wait and I was very grateful for her efforts. As I was working at the zoo, I got staff discount which made the meals go from ridiculously cheap to embarrassingly cheap. I never paid more than the equivalent of 50p for a meal and drink!

Mr Lim and I did our afternoon rounds and found a huge tree fallen down, blocking a main thoroughfare, in a storm the night before. The tree was about a hundred years old but only fell down because a pond had unnecessarily been dug at its base. It smashed a covered seating area on its way down but, had it fallen the other way, would have ruined hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of enclosure and caused the escape of two species of animal. This reminded Mr Lim of some high profile scandal regarding the zoo director and smuggling of Orang Utans. One is never sure who reads these things so I didn't ought to say too much but suffice to say the whole affair is disgusting, wrong and will hopefully involve legal proceedings. It wouldn't be the first time Taiping Zoo was in the media for all the wrong reasons.

We had an early morning the day after to decide which deer would be given to Singapore Zoo. We prepared the equipment and took the 'ambulance' to the heavily eroded and waterlogged enclosure to inspect the deer. We chose a couple of decent males then Mr Lim darted them. As soon as the first was down we all jumped in to hold it down while it was scanned for a microchip and I injected it with a cocktail of drugs suitable only for cows. We were working against the clock as the other deer had gone down also. We shimmied it onto a large piece of plastic to carry it into the quarantine area where it would stay for a few months before transportation. I had to record its numbers and then head over to the other, younger, male and repeat the whole process. This one had not fully gone under, or had started to come round, and after a short chase, the keepers managed to pin its flailing limbs and antlers to the ground so we could perform the necessaries. The whole process took a few hours as there were lots that had to be done. We took blood samples from each animal to be sent away for testing of important diseases like foot and mouth. One test we could do in house was the TB testing, similar to the routine test used in cattle in the UK. The problem was that the kits were apparently for another species which Mr Lim had forgotten, and were definitely out of date. Mr Lim thought it might be fun to test one so stabbed his finger and put his own blood onto one of the kits. We watched the blood move along the paper and a line develop which signified a negative result, Mr Lim was relieved. We then tested the deer and both worryingly resulted in a line at the positive mark but no mark in the control area so the tests were void. I was given the rest of the afternoon off as there was little to be done after that.

It was the turn of the humongous python to be moved on the Friday, before the crowds of the weekend moved in. There was a team of eleven men needed to move the heavy cage and snake onto the lorry. Thankfully it had a hydraulic lift at the back but when it came to lifting the cage, it failed so we had to try and pick up the cage to relieve enough weight in order for the hydraulics to work. At the other end, the lorry was backed down the side of the snake house making getting the snake off was much easier, unlike the actual release. We carried it a few metres to the large glass-walled room where the door was unhelpfully a foot or two off the ground. Before the snake was released with the other snakes, it needed a jab of Doramectin which I attempted first. I had to blindly put my hand into the cage and rely on the others to poke the snake to make it move to the correct area. This was difficult and after multiple shouts to stop, to prevent the snake engulfing my arm, Mr Lim took over and just went for it. The snake was now highly agitated and was writhing around, its neck coiled ready to strike anything that came that little bit too close. It took a long time for the cage to be positioned and I tried to help by explaining what I thought was a better way of manoeuvring it but I wasn't understood so I left them to their confusion. The cage was at a steep angle which left the sides and top open for escape so some keepers, armed with sticks, brushes and dustpans, guarded the sides with a couple of men on top of the cage. The doors were opened and the snake couldn't seem less interested in making the move into its new home so the keepers had to resort to poking the poor thing with sticks. This didn't encourage the snake, it only made it scared and angry and suddenly it snapped, launching itself across the cage to the open mesh. Everyone jumped back quickly, foolishly not expecting the snake to strike. The massive void that was its mouth was a little too plain to see and luckily not able to get through the substantial gaps in the mesh but it did manage to get its mouth partially through and as such got it stuck, with its huge fangs ratcheted on the bars to prevent the escape of what would normally be prey. The startled keepers proceeded to hit the snakes head and mouth, trying to prize it away and in the process ripped its lips. I helplessly cringed as I watched the cruel brutality of the situation. Much poking and spraying with water later, the snake was mostly pushed into its new place and didn't seem any happier for it as it ignorantly struck at the public who were safely watching on the other side of the glass.

I had more dealings with snakes later that day when another, much smaller python was brought into the office. Again it needed injections but Mr Lim was to have some fun with it first. He picked it out of the bag by its tail and put it on the floor allowing it to move around but maintaining a firm grip so it couldn't escape. This snake wasn't pleased either and struck out in our direction and then scared Mr Lim as it was a strong juvenile so could hold most of its weight and made its way up onto his shoulder. Mr Lim managed to flick it off before being bitten and wanted me to catch it while it was semi-free on the floor. I used a stick and a cloth to eventually cover its head then pounced on the snake to firmly grasp its neck, with my fingers over the top and bottom of its head. I picked up the whole speckled green and black serpent to take it to meet its new friends. I was feeling a lot more confident with handling snakes and the experience was really beneficial.

It was truly a snake filled day which finished with a post-mortem of a deadly venomous snake that had been dead some time although Mr Lim still warned that they can sometimes retain their bite reflex so I should be careful. Carefully, I cut open the emaciated snake to find a tangled mess of worms (some were still alive) which I correctly managed to identify. We took pictures and I filled out the post-mortem report for Mr Lim, which was good practise, and he asked me about standard practises in the UK. We finished out chat then I said a fond farewell to Mr Lim and thanked him for everything. I hope that I might return at some time, with more clinical knowledge.

I used my day off to catch up on a bit of sleep and got up at nine o'clock then went out to the Gate Cafe to take advantage of the good food and free Wi-Fi. I had Tom Yam soup which was very nice and halfway through I discovered the biggest green lipped muscle I have ever seen lurking in the bottom waiting to be gobbled up. The whole thing looked like an exotic version of the classic Italian soup, minestrone, but unsurprisingly tasted rather different.

I had a leisurely wander around Taiping in the early afternoon then headed back to the hotel before the rain started and had an easy rest of the day taking pictures of things I found in my room and writing. The storm brought interruptions to an already temperamental internet connection but it brought a wonderful sunset in its wake.

A new day and a new place to stay. I packed and went downstairs to checkout. I said goodbye to the receptionist and he was very keen for me to sign the new guest book. I then got in the taxi that was waiting outside and was taken to the bus station which is a little bit out of the town centre. We drove along a road I hadn't been on before which followed the hills and lake gardens to their termini and was actually quite picturesque. On one of the grassy areas in the gardens was a marquee which looked as if it was ready for some sort of ceremony. In classic Asian style, I saw a group of around two hundred people all lined up with white suits practising their synchronised stick waving.

At the bus station, the bus I was supposed to get on was not there, or at least the bus with the correct number was not there. A man whom I didn't have a lot of trust in told me that I should get on another bus, of the same company, as it was going where I wanted. With no staff around, as it was a Sunday, I had no other option but to trust him so I got on and found my comfortable seat. The bus parked next to us was described as "Konsortium Bas Ekspres - Massage Bas" and I was pleased not to be on that one. To many onlookers and stares, I got out my laptop to continue writing as we drove to Penang. The drive took two hours but to my shock and disbelief I was suddenly looking up at the ferry terminal in Butterworth, I only thought we had been driving twenty minutes, not two hours. I alighted the bus to lots of heckling from taxi and bus drivers wanting my custom but I went to get the ferry that took me from the Malaysian peninsula to Penang Island and Georgetown.

The colourfully painted ferries ploughed the route between the two terminals constantly, with the actual crossing only taking twenty minutes and were still well used despite the fairly new construction of the world's third longest bridge which connects the island to the peninsula. The ferry cost just twenty pence and even had some drinks and snacks for sale. In the distance I could see some floating houses tethered to jetties belonging to a few fishing families. On the exit walkway from Penang ferry terminal were a string of tightly packed and colourful shops selling a range of goods like fresh fruit, drinks, stir fries, flowers and soups. I stopped to get my map out of my bag and was immediately approached, not by a Malaysian taxi or trishaw driver but by a Scottish man who was on his way out and wanted to offer some advice which I gladly accepted.

Georgetown was the capital of British Malaysia and as a result had many examples of nice British Colonial architecture even if most of them were poorly looked after and needed much work. I wandered around that evening to see a little of the town, they even have a Downing Street, and find some food. Lured in by the tempting pictures and offer of free Wi-Fi, I was seduced into a entering a Malaysian restaurant which, as soon as I opened the door, realised was someone's home. I wasn't complaining though and neither were the family sat watching TV behind me. A youngish man got up to serve me bringing with him a large silver tureen filled with enough rice to feed five people. The food was certainly restaurant standard even if I didn't really feel like I was in one.