Getting down and dirty in Taman Negara

I was very, very uncomfortable. The cave was dark, I could slip on the rocks anytime and fall to my death and worst of all, I had just touched something soft and sticky. I wasn't sure what it was, but I had a feeling it came out of the wrong end of the bats which were flying above me.

"Don't stop, you must move on," our guide, who was a few feet ahead of me, called out. I tried not to think too much and went on.

My friends and I were in Gua Telinga, which in Malay translates as 'Ear Cave'. There was something about this cave which reminded me of the inside of an ear; the way one had to climb down into it because it wasn't at ground level, the way it narrowed uncomfortably in certain places, the way it twisted and turned before it narrowed.

I'm not exactly the caving type. In fact, I'm not any type at all. I had come to Taman Negara, Malaysia's National Park where Gua Telinga was located, to - I don't know, enjoy a bit of trekking, a bit of walking, nothing too difficult, you know, stuff like that. Unfortunately my friends were keen on caving, so I tagged along.

I had heard all sorts of stories about Gua Telinga. I'd heard that in some sections the ceiling was so low that you had to slither on your stomach to get through and that most parts of the cave were practically coated with bat droppings. But then, I enjoy a good challenge, so Gua Telinga it was.

Our guide entered the cave first. The opening wasn't very large and was only four feet high so we entered it sideways, crouching. Water was dripping down the walls, making it a little dangerous, so we held on to the rock with our fingers and toes.

The stench didn't hit me at first but as we went deeper into the cave it got stronger- an unpleasant, cloying smell which filled the air around us. I held my breath and tried to breathe through my mouth, then immediately realised that that was even more disgusting.

After walking with bent backs for about 15 minutes, the ceiling dropped even lower to barely three feet above the ground. So this is where we start crawling, I thought. With the help of our headlamps, we made our way into the narrow passage. My palms touched the cave floor, which was cold and wet. "Try not to talk, guys. It's pretty gross," someone's muffled voice came from far behind me.

We crawled for some time until finally the ceiling rose. This allowed us to relax our knees and limbs a little, although it still wasn't high enough for us to stand. The walls had also opened wider, giving us more room and air to breathe, as stale and musty as it was.

Finally the passageway opened up to a large chamber. Here, the ceiling was high, maybe about 15 feet; I couldn't really tell. We could all stand now. "Is everyone here?" asked the guide. I wiped my filth-covered hands on my clothes but they were just as dirty.

And as we re-assembled and stood there, we heard the sound of hard, leathery wings flapping all around us. Bats flew above us, back and forth from wall to wall, from ceiling to wall and back again. Those that weren't flying were hanging from the ceiling, their wings folded around them protectively like perfect black capes. There were also bats huddled together in crevices, there were bats hanging from ledges, there were bats looking at us with beady eyes; there were bats everywhere.

After going up another smaller chamber and making use of holes and cracks in the wall to pull ourselves up, we emerged from Gua Telinga a few minutes later, exhausted and in need of a wash.

I'm still not the caving type, but I really would do that again. Just remind me to bring a pair of gloves next time.

Malacca

When my grandfather went into a coma in November 2002, one of my first thoughts was that he would still be able to hear me. That's what people say about someone in a coma, I told myself, he can still hear us and might just wake up.

So for the next four months, I spoke to my grandad while he slept. I told him I was tired of my job and that I wanted to leave. I told him I planned to take a few months off to travel but that I would come back when he woke up.

I also read to him while he slept. My grandad was and still is, the most well-read person I've ever known. He was always reading something- TIME, National Geographic, anything. He always amazed us kids with what he knew. Every morning, we would hear his slippers shuffling all the way from his room to the breakfast table. After he plonked himself down on his chair, he would look at us and say, "Do you know that they found some new dinosaur bones in the Gobi Desert? I read about it last night. Do you know where the Gobi desert is?" and we would wait for him to tell us, because we wouldn't know. If he wasn't talking to us about dinosaur bones, it would be something else, something scientific. My grandad was a doctor and even after he stopped working, he was always interested in finding out about new discoveries and new medicines.

My dear old grandad was reading right up to the moment he got his stroke. When we cleared his room after the ambulance took him to the hospital, his copy of 'Frankenstein' was on his bed, next to the space where he should have been laying.

I visited my grandad's grave in Malacca a few days ago. His grave lies under a tree which has white flowers if you visit at the right time of the year. When I saw his grave, it looked like that of a much shorter man. My grandad was tall, definitely a six-footer. But it was more than just his height. When I was in school, I didn't look up to him just in the physical sense, I looked up to him in every sense of the word. Or maybe he just seemed tall, like all grown-ups do when you're just a child. I tried to think of my grandad, my tears falling as I picked up the dried leaves and twigs on his grave. Am I not remembering him correctly? If he was so tall, why is his grave so short? I couldn't understand it.

When I look at the rows of unread books in my room- I have a habit of buying books when I see ones that I like, not necessarily when I've run out of reading material- I think of my grandad's old house in Malacca. I think of the hundreds of TIME, LIFE, National Geographic and Reader's Digest magazines dating from the 1960s which my mum, aunt and uncles had to clear up before they renovated the house.

We drove past the house before visiting the grave that day. It's now a private school with a white signboard and pretty little flags on the outside, ready to welcome the children who would soon sit in its classrooms.

When I said goodbye to my grandad before we left, I told him how his house had become a school. "It looks very pretty, Atok. The house will be full of books for children to read. You would like it."

Old Kuala Lumpur

A few days ago, two friends and I took a walk around Kuala Lumpur to take photographs. This was something I'd been wanting to do for a long time- to just walk in KL, chill and make like a tourist.

It wasn't as easy as I thought it would be. I once tried to write a travel piece about Kuala Lumpur and found it really difficult- I didn't know what to write. I thought that taking photographs would be easier, but it's only just marginally so. The thing about trying to see your city through a foreigner's eyes is that nothing is foreign to you. You've seen all these faces and eaten all the food.

So it was interesting that we found ourselves gravitating towards the old parts of the city, not necessarily what you would see on a Tourism Malaysia website.

It was beginning to get really hot so we stopped for a lassi at an Indian restaurant on Lebuh Ampang. That was when I saw these shophouses across the street. The waiter didn't seem too excited when we told him we didn't want to order any food, though.

These were painted on the wall of a backpackers' joint on Jalan Sultan, part of a heritage project in the city. I remembered this road because I'd stopped here to rest while covering Bersih 2.0.

Ask me where I saw this 'Astrology Centre' and I wouldn't be able to tell you the name of the street, but I'll probably remember the route we took.

There's something about old doors and windows which I really like. I found this old house round the corner from the Astrology Centre. I hung around for a while and waited for someone to open the door but no-one did.

This was a mural/collection of paintings on a building on Jalan Panggong. I can see the 1998 Commonwealth Games logo somewhere up there.

Coconuts at Central Market. Coconut water is great on a hot day

Cruel, but cute

And finally....for all your hairy needs, contact this man. You will not be disappointed.

This week's photo- Clouds over Lang Tengah Island, Terengganu

This was taken on one of our snorkelling trips around Lang Tengah Island, which lies off the coast of Terengganu, Malaysia. The snorkelling isn't as good as what you get on Redang or the two Perhentians but the island is pretty enough for a quiet weekend or a change of scene from the busy-ness of Terengganu's other islands. I like Lang Tengah because it isn't overrun with tourists and it's quite possible to wander off and find your own private beach, which we did.

Photo essay: Markets in Kota Kinabalu

One thing which I really like about Asian countries is that there's almost always an open-air market nearby, wherever you are. They could be selling food, household appliances, antiques, vegetables- whatever it is, you're guaranteed an interesting experience.

Kota Kinabalu in Sabah has several markets. Among these are the main night market which is packed with food stalls, the so-called Filipino Market which sells souvenirs and jewellery and the various produce and fish markets in the city itself or further out.

Grilled fish at the KK night market. We ate this with steamed rice and a hot and sour sauce

Never knew tomatoes could be so pretty. Also at the night market

Giant doughnuts at the Donggongan Tamu, or market

Fresh seaweed, usually eaten with rice

Colourful bead necklaces for sale at the Donggongon Tamu

That's right, you're seeing correctly- blue fish. They taste like normal fish, apparently

And if you're lucky, you may even get to hear some local music 

Why do I love Asian markets again? They're great for people-watching, chatting with the locals and if it's a food or produce market, everything is always fresh, cheap and tasty.

Riding the rails- The North Borneo Railway

This was a train on which time stood still. Not figuratively speaking, but literally.

Jual, the Head Steward on the North Borneo Railway, was going from carriage to carriage. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are not leaving Papar yet. We need another five minutes for the engine to heat up." He turned to leave, then stopped and grinned: "You must remember, this is an old train."

"That's okay. We're not in any hurry," shouted one of the passengers. Nope, we certainly weren't.

Collecting tickets at the counter

Established in 1896, replaced by petrol-powered locomotives in 1971 but re-launched in 2000, the historic steam train known as the North Borneo Railway is back and riding the rails.

This train was originally used by the British to transport sugar, tapioca and rice from the interior regions of Malaysian Borneo to the port at Jesselton (present-day Kota Kinabalu in Sabah), but now it's become its own tourist attraction.

Get ready for old-style travel here, for the route from Tanjung Aru to Papar uses a Vulcan steam locomotive built in the United Kingdom in 1954. Just like Australia's 'Puffing Billy' and India's Darjeeling 'Toy Train', the North Borneo Railway (which doesn't have a nickname yet), is one of the few steam trains left in the world.

I felt the atmosphere even before I boarded the train. Happy, 1950s music which made me feel like dancing blared from speakers on the platform. Train stewards in period-style white and khaki uniforms complete with pith helmets showed us to our seats.

One of the best things about the ride on the North Borneo Railway are the people you'll see along the way. You'll see farmers, vendors selling fruits by the roadside and children waiting at their windows just to see the train. Children and adults will stop what they're doing and wave to you. Make sure you wave back! I can't remember the last time I had fun waving to complete strangers.

The carriages are cozy, with dark wood panelling and brass fittings. There are also Western-style bathrooms in every carriage.

Fresh pastries and croissants for breakfast

Tickets: RM250 (US$80) for adults, RM150 (US$47) for children aged three to 12, while children below two ride for free.

Don't: Come on a full stomach! Prices are inclusive of a Continental breakfast and a Tiffin-style lunch.

Do: Sit back, relax and have fun.

Travel days: Wednesdays and Saturdays, 10am sharp. This is a popular ride, so book in advance.

Duration: About four hours, from Tanjung Aru to Papar and back.

Expect to see: The South China Sea, villages, schools, rice fields and buffaloes.

More information, including on where to buy tickets, can be found on the official North Borneo Railway website here.

This week's photo- Chilies

I was in a vegetable market in Terengganu, Malaysia when I saw this huge mound of fresh chillies at one of the stalls. Red and green really go well together.