Our journey from hell started when I tried to book two train tickets online and found that I had somehow booked six tickets! We both panicked at that point, but bearing in mind that each train ticket cost only £6, panicking at this stage was just a little unnecessary.

However, one somewhat strained phone call later, trying to explain the issue through a rather large language barrier, resulted in us getting the correct tickets at the right price, so all was well again.

On the morning of our journey we started our day with a hearty breakfast, followed by Ronnie trying to book a taxi. Hotel reception assured us they didn't need to book, we could have the awaiting taxi outside. So we scooted off to our room to fetch our bags, only to find that our waiting taxi driver had, in the meantime, decided to pick up another fare!

The hotel reception were of very little use and approached our problem in the very relaxed, almost lackadaisical way, we had found them to be since our arrival. The thirty minutes we had given ouselves to catch our train soon became twenty, however, on noting our concern and growing frustration the young lad behind reception eventually offered us a lift, which was, we thought, the least they could do.

As we got nearer the station area, we realised that our driver wasn't really sure where the station entrance was. Having been there only once, I found myself giving him instructions. After more confusion and asking directions, we were finally dropped off at the make shift entrance, where we saw our train waiting to depart.

So with hefty backpacks and day bags we quickly climbed the flights of stairs to get to the correct platform. A young female attendant saw our struggle and so, very efficiently, radioed ahead and got the train to wait, which was a huge relief. We were herded into the train by a flag waiving train attendant and almost fell into the carriage as the train started.

However, this was only the start of our train dilema, it appeared that the email confirming our booking was not our actual tickets. The smartly dressed attendants were clearly flummoxed by this, so much so that at the next station Ronnie was marched out of the train and with hudl in hand disappeared into a lift with the train attedant, who's manner was something akin to the fat controller in Thomas the Tank Engine. I felt a tad concerned as they disappeared from view and I sat on the train for ten minutes or so, not sure what was happening.

It felt very dramatic given that the train was almost empty, but wait we all did until Ronnie and 'Mr jobs worth, the Fat Controller' reemerged. We were told we had to try and contact the online service by the next station or we'd be kicked off the train.

The fare was so cheap, we could have easily paid again, but it was the principle of the matter so I hunted through emails and found an attachment with the said train tickets so all was not lost. Mr jobs worth somewhat smuggly shooed us out of first class, where we'd been instructed to sit through this dilema and placed us in the cheap seats at the back of the train, but at this point, we didn't care, our journey was secured.

Up until now we had never had a problem in any country getting directions to our next hostel, motel or hotel, yet on arrival in KL several hours later, this proved a real problem. The first station information service we approached had no idea where the hotel was and sent us fifteen minutes in one direction on the underground. However, the next station information service were no better, and after some deliberation between staff, we were instructed to go fifteen minutes in a totally different direction.

We were getting a little frustrated by now and so hurried off to our next awaiting underground train, but as I stepped aboard, the carriage doors snapped shut leaving Ronnie on the platform outside. I began frantically mouthing instructions as the train moved off leaving us both feeling a little bit vulnerable. At the next station I got out and waited a painful five minutes, hoping that Ronnie had understood and heard my rather frantic, garbled instructions and was more than a little relieved when I saw him shouting at me from the carriage.

On arrival at what we thought would be our final destination, nobody had heard of our hotel. Long gone was the ease of finding our digs though the very efficient and strategically placed I Site information services in NZ, this required a different tact. So we left the confusion of the train services and headed off in search of a taxi.

Five minutes down the road and patiently waiting it started to rain, just a little at first, but it slowly got heavier. As our taxi approached we both breathed a sigh of relief only to be told by the driver that he had no idea of where our hotel was. As we stood in the pouring rain we both looked at each other with the same concerning question, does our hotel actually exist?

We hailed another cab, this time the taxi driver quoted us a price so we threw everything in and we were off. It wasn't long, however, before we realised that the cab driver had no idea where he was going,, but at this stage we didn't care, we were enjoying the refuge found in the grubby overpriced cab rather than taking our chances in the pouring rain in a city we didn't know.

After half an hour we stopped to ask directions, but this was to no avail so I telephoned the hotel who spoke with our driver. We felt relieved and we were soon off with a more confident driver, but alas, this did not last long, we were beginning to see the same route again, and then again, but by now we'd hit rush hour so we sat in traffic for a further half an hour. Three phone calls to the hotel and three stops to ask directions later, we finally arrived.

We had just spent two hours in a taxi, a journey that we were later told should have only taken fifteen minutes. This pushed our travel time from our last destination to twelve hours. Clearly we had been a little naieve to think we didnt have to work out our route, but it had never been an issue up until now. However, we had arrived in KL together and in one piece, although just a little bit more frayed around the edges.