I got up early the next day because I only had a few hours before my ferry back to Labuan. I decided to catch a local bus out to the Brunei Museum, which holds among other things the Sultan's splendid collection of Islamic art from all areas and all eras, from 8th century votive crockery from Dagestan through medieval illuminated Kurans from all over to 19th century Ottoman armour and weapons.

Catching the bus was exciting in its own right. One of the two buses I was told to catch doesn't run any more. Thankfully Danny, a local tourist guide and (he assured me) well-known celebrity figure - he features in The Lonely Planet and several other publications - pointed me in the right direction. He also tried to convince me to take on his services as a guide, but I managed to decline politely and then we just chatted until my bus turned up.

It didn't take me long to realise that not only was I the only whitey on board, but also I was the only passenger under the age of 80! At least until the pregnant lady got on board, who I gave up my seat to. It reminded me of daytime buses in London, which are also a favourite hang-out for people in their third age, as the French delicately put it.

Soon we reached the Brunei Museum, proudly opened by Queen Elizabeth II in the '70s - and you don't need to read the commemorative plaque to work out that date! I quickly passed inside, to escape the oppressive heat and the oppressive concrete exterior, and headed straight for the gallery of Islamic art. There I was struck in particular by the beauty of the Kurans, which reminded be of the Book of Kells in their curlicue writing and bold colours. Different religions but the same love and devotion.

The bus back into town wasn't packed with OAPs as the first one had been. I didn't have to wait long by the side of the road to flag it down. Once back in BSB I went to have a spot of lunch at a Chinese restaurant (I'd done Indian for breakfast) and then walked up to the Regalia Museum.

This is packed to the rafters with gifts received by the Sultan in his capacity as leader of Brunei. There are some amazing things there! The naff-looking green vase Queen Elizabeth saw fit to present looks crap in comparison with some of the delightfully crafted silver statues and other items.

The Regalia Museum also houses the crown jewels. My favourite part of the Bruneian coronation ware has to the Golden Hand though, which looks like it's been hacked off a shop window mannequin and whose sole purpose is "to support the chin of the Sultan during the coronation". I bet melted down it would make several thousand lovely necklaces.

As I wandered through the rest of the museum (at a fairly brisk pace because the marble floor of the air-conditioned halls was very chilly under my bare feet) I soon lost count of the number of images of the Sultan: in regal attire; in military uniform; in a smart suit & tie; in shirtsleeves, meeting & greeting his subjects at the market; in sports gear, on the badminton court or at polo... In fact, all that was missing was a picture of him in a golden G string, draped alluringly across a sports car (of which he apparently owns over 3000!).

Next stop was the ferry terminal for my return trip to Labuan. The ticket and port duties used up the very last of my Brunei dollars, which was pleasing for the neat & tidy side of my nature. And thanks to Bruneian immigration I now have a page in my passport that boasts stamps of six different colours!

Given that it is a duty-free island, I was expecting Labuan to be a bit of a party central. But in fact it's a sleepy little town, notwithstanding its ultra-modern mosque that resembles a huge scaled-up version of Darth Vader's helmet. I found a hotel, wandered around for a while, went for some Indian food (not roti this time, but masala dosa), and then headed to the cinema to kill some time. I watched Fantastic Four which was dire - although Human Torch looked like my mate Simon's brother Paul, which kept me amused for the duration.

On Thursday my plan was to head up to the north of the island on a local bus, because I had been told that the beaches there are lovely. And indeed they are: long, sandy and deserted. I have a feeling though that they were deserted because of the shite weather. It was grey and dismal looking, both in the sky and in the sea. I had something like four kilometres of beach to myself, so I found a spot on some rocks (the sand was of the extremely fine, more like mud variety and I didn't fancy sitting on it) and wrote a bunch of postcards to people who don't have email.

After an hour or so I headed back into town, hailing a passing minivan to bring me back to the bus station. From there I bought a bottle of Bailey's for Lucy and then caught the ferry back to KK. It was so cold in the boat! Luckily I had had the foresight (this time) to bring my sarong/towel/stripey green thing that I bought in South Africa with me in my hand luggage, so I wrapped that around my knees and settled in for the three-hour ride.

Back in KK I headed to Lucy's on the off chance that she had a spare bed for me, but sadly she was full. As a sorry she gave me some of her dinner (a home-fried nasi goreng that was very tasty). We transacted for the Baileys and then I found myself a bed in another backpacker nearby. That evening I met up with Jamie & Claire from the jungle and we drank lots and lots and lots of beer, had some delicious grilled fish, and then drank lots more beer, finishing the night with beers in a karaoke bar. It's the only way to be in KK, really.

Friday was my last full day - oh my God, how quickly has time passed? - so I determined to go out to the islands again for a last-minute tanning session. I met a nice German woman on the boat out there, and we spent the day together. I also managed to write about three million postcards. So those of you who don't have email will still have heard from me recently. At least, that's the plan.

In the evening, before meeting up with people for beers, I had a last wander around town. I managed NOT to buy any clothes - a miracle - not even in the market, where there were all sorts of cheapo leather goods to be had (but actually I couldn't find a belt I liked). I soaked up the atmosphere of the crowded streets, the noise of traffic and music blaring from shop fronts, the stench of ageing fish at the dockside, the billowing clouds of charcoal smoke wafting through the open-air hawker food markets, the rather more alarming billowing clouds of smoke rising from both ends of a nearby shop - and no bugger seemed to give a toss!

For my last night in Malaysia I managed to arrange to meet up with loads of people: Jamie & Claire were up for more beers; I ran quite randomly into Steve & Ais from the jungle too (they were just back from diving at Sipadan); and Tom was back in Lucy's with his school group (they were also leaving for home the next day). It was another big one. Honestly, I'm beginning to understand why English abroad have a reputation for being alcoholic louts. I mean, I certainly was! Okay, not a lout, but definitely loud. In fine voice, though I say so myself.

The bus journey back from Gum Gum to KK was uneventful, except for some breathtaking views of Mount Kinabalu. And judging by my head, which felt like it was expanding and contracting all the way, the altitude really does affect you in the tropics. The road reaches 2000m after all before heading back down to sea level.

Once we were back at Lucy's and had showered and changed (oh man was it good to feel clean again for the first time in three days!) Emma, Mahin, Mahin's sister and I went for a spot of shopping. I finally have found a manbag that I like. So now I'll be able to hold my head up high when walking the streets of Melbourne! Then a bit of internet and then we collapsed into bed.

I spent the next day mostly asleep. When I wasn't snoozing and feeling a bit sorry for myself with a headcold, I was organising my things in my bag and thinking about what to do next. My lazy angel on my left shoulder was saying "stay in KK, stay in KK" but my intrepid angel on my right shoulder was saying "go to Brunei, go to Brunei". Intrepidity overcame lassitude and I resolved to get the ferry to Labuan the next morning, and the connecting ferry to Brunei.

And on Tuesday morning I did just that.

The ferry crossing to the island of Labuan was one of those speedy fully enclosed boats with outrageously effective air conditioning. There was a serious body boom problem in the cabin though: it was almost impossible to hear the soundtrack of the movie they played, and even with earplugs in it was uncomfortably loud. But three hours later we emerged on Labuan, which is a duty-free territory and loaded with alcohol and cigarette shops.

I didn't stay long though, because the boat to Brunei was about to leave. I bought my ticket, passed through immigration (or Imigresen as they say in Bahasa) and found myself on an identical boat for the hour's sail to Brunei.

Arriving in my fifty-fifth country was cool! We got out of the boat into intense sunshine, and had to queue up outside a metal shed which was custosm & immigration. It reminded me of when I was in the Indonesian embassy compound in KL with Erik the Dutchman last year. The sun was beating down on us, but it was taking time to clear immigation because there were only about three Bruneians on board. The rest of us were Filipinos (everyone else) or British (me).

Sod's law saw to it that I was last through, but I didn't mind the wait because I was taking in the subtle differences from Malaysia. Basically the people are the same, speak the same language, and eat the same food. The only real difference is that here there are pictures of the Sultan and his wife EVERYWHERE. Talk about cult of the personality! Oh, and of course Brunei is dry. And the road signs are bilingual Bahasa and Arabic. But that's about it.

Once my passport had been stamped, I made my way through customs and was surprised to hear someone shout out "Anything ta declear, mite?" in the thickest Occer accent! I looked round for an Australian but saw only Bruneians. The guy must have spent a long time in Oz to end up talking like that, poor devil. (Mind you, people have said to me on this trip that I sound Australian, which I something I refuse to believe. Mate.)

I managed to get the last seat on the express bus into Bandar Seri Begawan, the capital, and forty minutes later I emerged into the buzz of the city. First things first, I drew some Brunei Dollars from a nearby hole in the wall. Then food. Then I found the hotel Lucy had recommended to me. It's very spartan (my room literally contained a bed, a chair, a table and an air conditioning unit) but clean and central.

I dumped my gear, had a shower, and then headed back out. I walked to the main city mosque just as afternoon prayer was ending, so I didn't have to wait long before I was allowed in to have a look around. It's most impressive. The stained-glass windows were specially made in England, the marble floors are Italian, and no expense has been spared. The outside of the mosque was also fabulous, with whitewashed walls with crenellations, a huge gold dome, and a graceful minaret piercing the sky.

My next stop was the stilt village (Kampung Ayer) which is actually a series of villages along both banks of the river. I suppose, as the guidebooks say, it's a bit Venetian, what with water taxis plying the narrow spaces between blocks of houses, or schools, or mosques, but, never having been to Venice, I can't say for sure, and, really, I don't feel I've used quite enough commas in this sentence, so I'll just waffle on a bit longer, for the fun of it, you know how it is, I do love punctuation, and that book "Eats, Shoots & Leaves" is just spot on.

After wandering about aimlessly for a while, taking photos of dilapidated houses and of kids flying kites uncomfortably close to power lines and being surprised by the heterogeneity of the structures - some are clearly ancient and about to collapse into the muddy waters below, whilst others are prefab concrete and look very recent - I decided to hire one of the water taxis for myself. We haggled on price, and agreed on B$20 for an hour. In that time my pilot took me upstream beyond BSB to see proboscis monkeys in the trees.

It was a little bit like a flashback to Uncle Tan's to be honest, but the difference here is that there are no oil palm plantations; Brunei makes that much money from crude oil that it hasn't had to despoil its pristine rainforest. Sadly though, Brunei isn't very big (thanks to dodgy dealings by the British in years gone by) so there isn't much of Borneo that can claim to be virgin jungle.

When I got out of the boat again back in BSB an hour later, I saw the city mosque was lit up in green neon. Whilst taking a photo, I got chatting to a Kiwi retired couple and we went for food together to one of the city's outdoor food markets. It was delicious! A most memorable nasi goreng kampung (fried rice, village style) with the tastiest side soup I've yet had. (I love the way you always get a little bowl of soup with your main course here, just so your meal's never too dry.)

On trips like this there's always a couple of photos that get away. There were two shots I would love to have taken in the Kampung Ayer: one of three little kids in scrappy clothes jumping up and down on a knackered old sofa, the whole scene beautifully framed by the weathered wooden veranda doorframe; and another of a soix-year-old girl called Aswani (I know these details because the kids like to practise their English with tourists) who had a dishevelled flower-print dress, wild raven hair and insouciant black eyes, and was kicking a water-filled balloon along the raised plank walkway.

Brunei is a quiet place of an evening. The one cinema was showing a Malaysian romantic comedy that didn't interest me, so I retired to my room and did some reading. (Do you know, I brought about seven books with me from Melbourne, expecting to get some serious reading time in on the beach or what have you, but I've barely opened the first of them!)

Wow! Rumble in the jungle!

Courtesy of Uncle Tan's Jungle Adventure, I have recently seen more wildlife in its natural surroundings than you can shake a stick at! We're talking big stuff too, none of your boring shit: elephants, fully mature orang utans, proboscis monkeys, long-tailed macaques (there are so many of those buggers you end up wishing they would just get out of the way), crocodiles, pythons, and some amazing birds too.

I have taken photos, and people with better cameras have taken photos and promised me copies, but in the meantime you might want to look at www.uncletan.com to get an idea of what I've been up to these last three days since leaving Sandakan. We were so lucky! We really saw everything

And actually, while you're at it, have a glance at the sepilok orang utan sanctuary website because I went there too on my way into the jungle. And that's where Charlotte the Swede from the other week in KK is working as a volunteer. I met up with her and we had a long chat.

And then the adventure started. We got picked up from Sepilok in a ute sent from Uncle Tan's. It turns out there were six of us all going on the tour, so three of us ended up in the back of the ute: me, Emma from Essex and Mahin from Bahrain. Adam, Bridie & Audrey from Australia filled the cab alongside the driver. At Uncle Tan's office we were joined by Steve & Aisling, also Aussie (him) /Aussie resident (her). And that was our little party.

Party in all its senses: we had the biggest laugh for the next three days! In the absence of electricity or other diversions, we spent the time we weren't actually looking at animals & plants singing songs or stuffing our faces - or both. Thankfully there was plenty of beer (but sadly no ice), so the evenings were pleasant.

It was great fun living in very basic jungle accommodation for a few nights. It's unbelievable how LOUD the jungle is! An incessant shrieking, buzzing, chirruping wash of sound that seems to increase in the nighttime, either because of nocturnal critters or because we stopped singing for a few hours. And the jungle's a hot place too, even at night. The thick mosquito nets, which were only partially effective against their primary target, were most effective at blocking the slightest breath of a breeze - which, to be fair, were very infrequent, even though we were barely 100m from the river.

And during the day, boy oh boy, it was hot hot hot! But the heat was forgotten when suddenly, on the afternoon of our first full day in the jungle, the shout went up that a fully-grown orang utan was only metres away from the camp, up in a fruit tree at the edge of the clearing! We dashed for our cameras and swarmed out into the trees, not even thinking to put on shoes (so we all got a fair number of bites - but who cares?), and started snapping away. He was tantalisingly close (it was a male, about 30 years old - a bit like me, which was weird) but the foliage was so thick it was difficult to catch a glimpse of his face with its enlarged cheek pads.

We were all pretty elated after that encounter, and the beers flowed freely that night, as did the singing. So the next morning I didn't even think to wish for elephants. But bugger me! There they were! A bunch of eight or ten, with two babies, quietly gathered at the riverside and so perfectly seeable from our early morning boat safari. We sat and watched them for ages, and then they slowly moved off.

The guide decided it was safe for us to go on land and follow them inland, so we did. The mud almost stopped me from following - I was almost up to my knees - but I managed to lever myself out and get a photo of them en famille before we clambered back aboard our speedboats.

Well, that really was unbeatable! Or so I thought... But no, the jungle had one more surprise for us. We were sitting down to breakfast, looking eagerly at each other's elephant photos, when a cry of alarm went up from the kitchen: there was a python in the cupboard!! A couple of the guides fetched a big stick and managed to carry the snake out into the open. Another photographic frenzy commenced, and then everyone was just buzzing for the rest of the time on the camp, even though by rights we should have been sad at our little band of safari-goers breaking up.

And then, just as we were walking towards the jetty to catch the boat back to civilisation, who should call in but the orang utan again! This time he was above the path to the jetty, and even closer than the day before. More photos, more hushed amazement, and I think I'm not wrong when I say each and every one of us had a massive grin pinned to our faces all the way back to Gum Gum and then on our separate ways to KK and Sandakan.

Uncle Tan's had well and truly come up with the goods: elephants, orang utans, proboscis monkeys (apparently, in Malay, they're called Dutch Monkeys because of their big noses!), long-tailed macaques, crocodiles, egrets, hornbills, kingfishers, pythons, the world's smallest frog, tarantulas, a fruit bat curled up to sleep in a wild ginger plant, monitor lizards, we saw them all. Wow.