Cosmopolitan KL

Kuala Lumpur was a surprise highlight. With our late evening arrival after thirty-two hours of travel by taxi, ferry, coach, songthaew and two trains, we were glad to be back on the pavements of a non-undulating city, and after a short outing for some late-night food at a nearby Middle Eastern restaurant we concluded that we liked the laid-back atmosphere. Stepping out the next morning, we were also struck by the diversity of the city and the surprising number of green patches.

Keen to continue our culinary tour of the Malaysian melting pot, we had a late breakfast in Little India where we followed our noses into a Jain veggie restaurant and our waiter cut through the overwhelming menu and recommended a thali plate.

We expressed our individuality with identical mango lassis and stood by as an incredible variety of foodstuffs paraded past. Between soup and fruit salad with ice cream we tackled the thali plate, a deceptively dense selection of curries with biryani, poppadoms and a chapati.

We wandered through this part of KL towards Mederka Square, the colonial heart and the place where Malaysia declared its independence from Britain. Actually, we didn't wander so much as walk purposefully, but the intense sunshine and heat made it look much like wandering. Mederka Square did not disappoint, with its impressive colonial buildings and unexpected greenness. It used to be used as a cricket ground by the British, which explains both its grassy centre and the obvious cricket pavilions alongside.

Since they were really the only image we had of KL before arriving, we had to have a good look at the Petronas Towers. We had decided not to go up due to the brevity of the allocated visiting time and the fact that you can't see the towers from inside, and instead planned to visit the KL tower. However, we wanted to get close so we had a wander through the posh mall underneath before popping outside to enjoy the public spaces.

As we had foregone the opportunity to visit the very expensive aquarium in Bangkok we were excited to find a much more affordable option in the basement of the convention centre. Overexcited, perhaps, so let me share a photo of even more excited children on a school outing for perspective.

The next day's breakfast came from the food court in the Berjaya Times Square mall, where we ducked in to use the post office. I loved the system here. You visit the cashier, give them cash that you think will be plenty to cover your meal, and they give you a plastic card with credit on it. You are then free to wander around and choose whatever you wish from any of the stalls or booths, where they swipe your card (I suspect it saves time when there's a queue, not having to fuss about with change) and your food catches up with you in due course. You then return to the cashier on the way out to return the card and receive your refund of the remaining credit.

The vista from the KL Tower is spectacular, and highlights even more the greenness of Kuala Lumpur's city centre.

Nearby there's a cultural village, easily missed but worth seeing, which demonstrates the traditional styles of houses across Malaysia.

The Islamic Art Museum was a long, lunch rush hour taxi ride away. We're going to tell you about our wonderful driver in a separate post, as he is one of the favourite people we met on the whole trip! The museum itself is a model of modern arts display, with engaging and air-conditioned exhibitions, including one on the batik collection of Ann Dunham (Barack Obama's mother) with insight into the importance of batik crafting for the empowerment of women across South East Asia and the world.

"Engaging" and "air-conditioned". These are of equal importance when visiting on a day like ours. We don't know how hot is was during the day, as I only bought my exciting thermometer pen at the museum, but it reached 40 degrees while we were waiting to visit the National Mosque at 6pm. That's 104 Fahrenheit, and we were melting.

Donning the complimentary purple robe and hijab to go inside didn't cool us off, but it did let us see the modern and interesting interior. By the sanctuary, a nice man in a nifty outfit was doing some hard-sell evangelism with glossy pamphlets and explained how the Malaysian Muslim community is diverse. He didn't think it was necessary for women to veil their faces, but explained that many Arabs thought that a woman should save her special face for her special husband. Tallulah was itching to ask if men didn't have a special face, too. I wanted to know what it meant for Malaysian Muslims to have a national mosque at the centre of national life, but our guide didn't really have much of an interest in the non-theological!

We washed down the tranquility of the mosque with a chaser of chaotic Chinatown - and I mean chaotic. KL's Chinatown is, by far, one of the most claustrophobic main streets that I've ever seen, even though it was also heady and atmospheric, with tightly packed stalls leaving only a narrow passageway down the centre of Petaling Street and sellers pouncing on the slightest glance as an indication of interest and a cue for the sales pitch.

We ducked out of the chaos to buy Tallulah a backpack and found a food court to gather our thoughts over a drink (and an opportunity to try some lychee juice for me). This offered a surreal blend of morose country music and the occasional rat darting out from under one of the stalls to startle a tourist. Funnily enough, we decided not to eat there.

Kuala Lumpur was good to us, and it's sad that we didn't have more time to explore, but what we saw was an engaging and easy-going city with all the benefits of its diversity and, for us, a budget ticket to some much appreciated comfort!

The Sebastian Chronicles: Pre-Departure Paws for Thought

Yo. Sebastian here.

My friends over at Re-Learning American seemed keen to get in touch again, so I thought I'd pop in before the serious packing commences.

Glad you can join me us on my our adventure. Trixie and Tallulah need a big strong bear to accompany them. Just between you and me, they tend to read maps upside down and if I have to listen to Trixie argue with her GPS one more time... well, it won't just be Jesus who's taking the wheel, if you know what I'm saying.

I want you to know that I'll take good care of these girls, as much as any one bear can. I'm the security conscious one among us, and I intend to make sure that their wallets are zipped tight and their money belts are securely fastened. This may not only be about security, I admit. I like to travel in the luggage to warn off any prying fingers as we make our way through the airport, and I have no intention of being wrapped in a sarong and crammed between a stuffed kangaroo and a lacquered monk's bowl, staring down the business end of a didgeridoo. The Christmas shopping in New York was bad enough.

But I digress. I'll keep the ladies under control, and in return they promise I will see more than the daily pillow-fluffing routine. Personally, I'm hoping for some pink dolphins, and a tan.

If you don't hear from Trixie and Tallulah for a while, safe to assume they've been eaten by a bear. Follow me on Twitter to find out where I bury the leftovers bodies.

Bear out.

Tropical Trailblazers

Looking ahead to the next journey, I anticipate new experiences, culture shock, good food and great company in the form of a new travelling companion, one of my best friends, whom we shall call Tallulah.

We've been spreading travel guides, coffee table books and maps out for more than a year now, since that fateful day in the Hard Rock Cafe in Edinburgh when one of us said, "I wish I could travel round the world on an epic adventure," and the other said, "Well, let's do that then" - still not clear which was which - and we laid down our onion rings and started plotting. We suffered through that stage when our itinerary for Australia was blank except for a drawing of a mysterious koala. We even stopped going to the HRC so we could save, such was our commitment to the cause.

Many texts, emails, natural disasters and visits to Trailfinders later (excellent people there, by the way), we're all ready with our tickets and can plan in more detail. Thai visa applications, medical import permissions for Singapore, evisitor visas for Australia, lots of inoculations... these lie before us.

I'm looking forward to our crazy adventures: pronouncing things badly in elementary Thai, trying not to get ripped off despite being obvious tourists, finding out why Tallulah wrote "SEXY DOLPHINS" on our itinerary last Saturday, travelling on sleeper trains in South East Asia, learning to cook in Thailand, fighting off killer wallabies in the outback, being made fun of when I drop Latin phrases into conversation (ad hoc is already being used against me as regards sightseeing) and standing under the Sydney Harbour Bridge, knowing that we've made it.

Here's our basic route:

LONDON - BANGKOK (overland to) SINGAPORE - SYDNEY - ALICE SPRINGS (tour in campervan) - MELBOURNE - HONG KONG - LONDON

To anyone who has done a similar trip or has visited any of these places: we would be grateful for your recommendations!

New Adventures

It's so easy to forget that travel doesn't come with a rule book. Handbooks abound; there is a wealth of great advice and useful tips from seasoned travellers and on occasion it certainly seems like there is an ironically well-trodden route to independent travel.

Three years ago I was struggling on one of my travel adventures, in increasing pain and no longer able to seize my opportunities as I would wish. I struggled as much with the fear of failure accompanying a capitulation to the counterintuitive necessity of giving up. Watching my own body disintegrate into a mass of inflammation and acute pain, I responded to the internal voice that had been pleading for nearly two weeks: come home.

My relief upon the return to the familiar comforts of my home was shortlived. I felt that I had been summoned home to a greater, harder adventure: hanging on through the extreme pains that come with a serious flareup of an autoimmune disease and finding my way through the daunting tangle of multiple bureaucracies that confront the chronically ill in this most vulnerable episode.

For one afflicted with a permanent case of itchy feet, being stuck in one chair for months at a time is torturous, but one of my coping mechanisms was a healthy dose of travel-brochure escapism. I dreamed of far-flung destinations, but a highly-supported short break to a coastal destination less than one hundred miles away was just as exciting. After a relaxing European getaway, and the confidence that the worst of my pain was somewhat under control, I felt ready to attempt an independent trip last November, where I enjoyed great support from airport workers who are becoming rather used to seeing me these days.

First trips are often something of a steep learning curve, and I overdid it a bit so that I experienced a bit of a flareup upon my return. Nevertheless I was determined to work out a safe middle ground, and after a successful trip this year I look forward to better travel management on my part.

With my specific mobility problems, I feel blessed in the "negotiable" nature of my ailments; fatigue management is the major concern, so there are many activities that are not entirely out of the question, leaving options open to me that may not be suitable for some wheelchair users, for example. However, the pain factor takes some trial and error, and the errors are terrifying!

I remain a bit apprehensive about what my future travels have in store for me - and whether my health will ever allow me to do some of the more adventurous things that appeal now but would have terrified me when I was younger - but it's also a new adventure, an opportunity to do things that seemed impossible and unattainable only two years ago.

So I strike forth, conscious that the decisions I make at this stage determine the success of the trip, and even whether I come home in a reasonable healthy state. I cannot follow the independent traveller footpath on this occasion. "Rustic" facilities are out of the question, and even the local terrain and its crowds receive careful consideration before major decisions are made. I can't afford the flexibility that I would, in other circumstances, relish. Climate is a greater issue than before, and while I have never enjoyed humidity personally, my body seems to relish it. I must find a new way to travel, grasping at opportunities and pragmatically rejecting fun activities that are not in my best interest.

From this side of the pharmacy, every travel experience will be new: scarier, less predictable and wholly unknown, but also exciting. I look forward to the journey.