I'm writing this in bed with Sue snuggled up next to me reading.  In the living room next door our new pellet stove is hissing gently and pumping hot water around our central heating system.  For the first time since we moved to Puglia in 2004 it's winter and the house is thoroughly warm, instead of comprising a small island of heat in a cold sea.  It's life-changing, I feel relaxed as I wander around the place and the smell of mould is retreating daily.  I now think of taking a shower with pleasurable anticipation instead of it being an unpleasant and goose-pimple inducing chore.  The paper on my desk is crisp and firm to the touch and no longer droops flacidly when I pick it up. On top of that we have satellite TV and I can write this in bed thanks to our new ADSL internet connection.   It seems a long way from the house we bought in the wilds of Puglia nine years ago, when we had no electricity for the first couple of weeks and were dra...

After leaving my hotel in Bari on the morning of 22nd September I drove home in brilliant sunshine with my heart thumping with a mixture of joy and anxiety.  Being a pessimist I half expected to see a smoking ruin with pigs rootling in the blackened foundations.  In fact, the place looked little different  to how we'd left it.  Our neighbour Paolo did a great job keeping an eye on things and maintaining the land, including pruning many of the olive trees, which was way beyond what I'd asked him to do. I had two weeks to smarten the place up before Sue arrived and I worked hard to get rid of as much of the accumulated grime as I could, with the help of Paolo's wife Elizabet and his mum Palma. The last few weeks have flown by and my sense of time now feels strangely distorted.  So little has changed here in Puglia that it doesn't feel as if we've been gone for two years, but then when I look back on Borneo our time there seems to have lasted forever. Ov...

The last few days in Saratok passed in a whirl of packing and ticking off jobs on lists, all the time my view of our little town shifting from the present to the past.  On Sunday 22nd September Sue drove me to Sarikei to get the boat to Kuching.  I looked out of the window at the jungle, the banana plants and the roadside shops and longhouses thinking this may well be the last time I see them.  As the boat surged up to the pontoon I said my goodbyes to Sue and passed my luggage (a rucksack and my bicycle encased in a large cardboard box) up to some helping hands on the rear deck. This was the start of three days of relentless travel by boat to Kuching, then a plane the next morning to Kuala Lumpur followed by a dash across the airport to catch my flight to Heathrow.  At Heathrow I got a taxi to Sue's brother Mike's house in Uxbridge where I left the bike.  After a pleasant night catching up with news from Mike, Tina, Adam and Tim, I got the bus on Tuesday t...

After three wonderful days at Batu Ritung Homestay I really felt sad to leave.  Supang gave me a farewell present of Bario rice and a rice scoop and showed me, William and Michele around the family museum, a room where Supang and her husband keep heirlooms and mementos.  Including the battered old leather briefcase her father used to use. After saying our goodbyes Matteo came to guide us back to Bario.  Instead of walking the water buffalo trail it had been decided we would travel by canoe.  This is the route most supplies take to get to Pa Lungan and still involves a fifty minute walk before reaching the boat, then a two kilometre drive at the other end. It turned out to be an eventful trip as the river level was very low and instead of a thirty minute journey we bumped and ground our way over shallows and half submerged trees for about an hour and a half. At the end of our river journey we were met by Stephen Baya of the Junglebluesdream Homestay, where w...

  As a paid up carnivore there is no flesh I love more than wild boar.  It's pork with all the flavours turned up, fantastic in rich sauces, sausages or straight off the barbecue, dribbling in fat so good you could drink it by the cupful.  It's a staple meat for the villagers of Pa Lungan and as luck would have it they had killed two the day I arrived and I got an invite to the barbecue the next day. So on Sunday afternoon I joined Stephen and his family and friends around the fire.  The combination of woodsmoke, fatty meat and thin crispy crackling was divine.  The hunter-gatherer ambiance was completed by the salivating dogs circling around the group, waiting for tossed scraps, a reward and an incentive to do their job on future hunts. The following day Stephen's brother Matteo, the village Headman, took me out for a day trekking in the jungle, accompanied by Supang's young dog Baddei. We ate lunch by a stream.  Mine was fried rice and wild boar...

Life moves at its own pace in Bario with no compromise for visitors on a tight timescale.  Douglas' promise that he would get a guide to come and see me at De Plateau Homestay finally materialised on my second morning there, by which time I was climbing the walls with frustration.  Liam is an amiable middle aged local kelabit who has returned to his roots after taking a "package" from Shell down on the coast.  He quickly disabused me about the availability of guides and trekking routes, which have dwindled as a result of logging activity.  During a chat with Liam I conceived a plan to walk to the village of Pa Lungan about twelve kilometres away, on a track which can be managed without a guide. I set off soon after my meet with Liam and followed his fairly vague directions.  It turned out to be a delightful walk through a small village, alongside quiet streams and paddies and into gentle woodland.  I had expected a track negotiable by four-wheel drives,...

Bario is in the heart of Borneo.  The best way to get there is by the twice daily MAS Wings service from Miri, which uses robust old 14-seater Twin Otter light planes.  You can also go by four-wheel drive using a network of logging roads, but it's a muddy, bumpy 12-hour ride.  The flight is a visceral experience during which you can watch the pilots wrestle the controls and flip the switches as they dodge the clouds then swoop through a clear gap down towards the tiny strip of grey tarmac which is Bario Airport. I had made no plans, which is just as well because the Lonely Planet Guide to the area is uselessly out of date.  As I left the arrivals shed there were several locals milling about, looking for clients.  I spoke to one who invited me to his Homestay (Malaysia's word for "bed and breakfast"). "What's your name?" I asked. "Douglas". "Guess what my name is?" So I joined Douglas in his four-wheel drive truck along with thre...