I am on a small, slow ferry from Muara in Brunei, to Labuan in Sabah. Labuan is one of those strange Malaysian towns that really exists only as a transit point. The airfare from there to Kuala Lumpur costs about half as much as a direct flight from Brunei. Enough to make a little inconvenience worthwhile, even if the interior of this gently rocking boat is the hottest place I have been since leaving Saudi Arabia.
Labuan also serves as a location for those pleasures illegal in Brunei - alcohol, prostitution and cheap chicken wings. Fowl play is one of the vices practiced by Brunei’s smugglers, photographs of captured fellans together with their booty of Tiger beer, Scotch whiskey and chicken frequently making it in to the local papers.
Brunei, essentially a small Malay town with a few malls and a beautiful mosque (with domes of plastic, I’m told), sits amongst pockets of jungled hills criss-crossed by dual carriageways. Without a car you would be stuck, for busses are even thinner on the ground than taxis. It is not a place of great beauty, although there are one or two nice beaches and jungle walks.
Bukit Sharbandar is an area of about six square miles of largely unspoiled rainforest - although the almost complete absence of large trees suggests that it has long being harvested. It has a network of footpaths and is popular with local walkers, joggers. Natural resources being in short supply in Brunei, even the army use it for training.
Although I have been trying to persuade David to go for a run for the last, he has been reluctant to join me on the relatively flat and easy roads around Manggis where he lives. Surprisingly then, he offered to run with me on Bukit Sharbandar this morning. We even set off ‘very early’ at 7.30 to take advantage of the cool morning air.
Living in Saudi Arabia is a good preparation for Brunei’s climate. At the top of the first hill David looked as though he was going to melt. It was steep, and he hasn’t been running for a long time. Every few hundred metres there is a resting station - a well constructed wooden shelter, usually with a pleasant view. On the first half of our journey I stopped at each of these to allow him time to catch up. Each time a Chinese lady would walk past slowly, never out of breath and without even a slight sheen of perspiration. Shortly afterwards, and increasingly wet and distraught David would show up.
Half way round we decided that we should each go at our own pace. Back at the carpark I sat down to wait. Twenty minutes later he still hadn’t turned up and I began to worry about him. Broken ankles, heat stroke, heart attack all went through my mind. I started to walk back up the beginning of the trail to see if I could find him. The Chinese lady appeared from nowhere and said ... “I think he is lost-lah. He will never come here again!” before walking off, now perspiring slightly at the neck. He turned up shortly afterwards.
Labuan also serves as a location for those pleasures illegal in Brunei - alcohol, prostitution and cheap chicken wings. Fowl play is one of the vices practiced by Brunei’s smugglers, photographs of captured fellans together with their booty of Tiger beer, Scotch whiskey and chicken frequently making it in to the local papers.
Brunei, essentially a small Malay town with a few malls and a beautiful mosque (with domes of plastic, I’m told), sits amongst pockets of jungled hills criss-crossed by dual carriageways. Without a car you would be stuck, for busses are even thinner on the ground than taxis. It is not a place of great beauty, although there are one or two nice beaches and jungle walks.
Bukit Sharbandar is an area of about six square miles of largely unspoiled rainforest - although the almost complete absence of large trees suggests that it has long being harvested. It has a network of footpaths and is popular with local walkers, joggers. Natural resources being in short supply in Brunei, even the army use it for training.
Although I have been trying to persuade David to go for a run for the last, he has been reluctant to join me on the relatively flat and easy roads around Manggis where he lives. Surprisingly then, he offered to run with me on Bukit Sharbandar this morning. We even set off ‘very early’ at 7.30 to take advantage of the cool morning air.
Living in Saudi Arabia is a good preparation for Brunei’s climate. At the top of the first hill David looked as though he was going to melt. It was steep, and he hasn’t been running for a long time. Every few hundred metres there is a resting station - a well constructed wooden shelter, usually with a pleasant view. On the first half of our journey I stopped at each of these to allow him time to catch up. Each time a Chinese lady would walk past slowly, never out of breath and without even a slight sheen of perspiration. Shortly afterwards, and increasingly wet and distraught David would show up.
Half way round we decided that we should each go at our own pace. Back at the carpark I sat down to wait. Twenty minutes later he still hadn’t turned up and I began to worry about him. Broken ankles, heat stroke, heart attack all went through my mind. I started to walk back up the beginning of the trail to see if I could find him. The Chinese lady appeared from nowhere and said ... “I think he is lost-lah. He will never come here again!” before walking off, now perspiring slightly at the neck. He turned up shortly afterwards.
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