Brunei August 2012

When I booked my flights for Kota Kinabalu, the possibility of an overnight stay in the airline's home country opened up the possibility of going somewhere new. I wouldn't say that I plan to visit every country in the world but my in-built nomad felt curious and so I decided that rather than transit for 8hrs, I'd 'go-for-it' and take an overnight on the way back.

As I transited on the way to KK, I had the pleasure of three hours in Brunei's Bandar Seri Begawan airport and despaired at its ramshackle appearance with a lonely Coffee Bean cafe keeping up appearances overlooking the 'departure' hall which has seen a lot better days. Not to worry, I thought, I bet I can change my flights and stay an extra night in Perfect Paradise and simply suffer a long transit.

What with one thing or another - give or take a mountain and turning 40 - I sort of let it slip my mind and only got round to thinking about doing something about it last weekend with precisely one week left to scheduled departure. I put a half hearted attempt together with the lovely Golden Circle concierge but what with Hari Raya and language and contacting London but it all not really coming together by Monday, I somehow decided that enough was enough and it was meant to be. No one in KK has anything to say about Brunei. Nothing there, they said. Resigned and stealing myself for 36hrs of alcohol free torture, I left the Shangri-la Tanjung Aru this morning wondering whether the plane might be full and somehow get transported to tomorrow by the back door.

It wasn't meant to be. Or maybe it was. Sometimes interesting paths have narrow entry points. A bit like happening upon a new relationship, you sometimes have to take unlikely avenues to find a new partner. Not that I was expecting to start a romance as the short flight began to descend almost as soon as it reached cruise height. Half an hour at most south of KK, I hadn't even bothered to book a hotel which could have been a disaster in the making but I think I recalled an advert in the in-flight magazine on the way out and thought, well, they will have them. Although - yes - I was a little nervous because in Sarah world, as my best friend always says, anything might happen and normally does.

As we land you notice that the properties are huge and that there a lot of glistening domes. Huge glistening domes. Which means one of at least a few things. Religion is central, power is acute and wealth is self-evident. I know that the Royal Sultanate of Brunei isn't poor - compared to a lot of asia - but actually, I realise, I know not a lot. Which was all about to change.

The airport didn't improve a month on but what did change was an apology by Royal Brunei airlines that it was undergoing extensive renovation and apologies for all inconvenience caused. Ah ha. I thought. That means that someone else has noticed that it isn't exactly up to international standards and is doing something about it. Very good start then. I have to sign in with a very heavy customs and immigration set of forms. Different countries have different priorities. Here there is an issue with alcohol, perfume and smoking and you are taxed per stick on every cigarette you bring in. Luckily, KK's new world class but empty airport had got its duty free training right and I could take in two bottles of spirits and a perfume. I took only one bottle of Gordons in because as much as I'm up for a session, this is not the place to be drunk in charge of a single female whirling dervish machine. On the other hand, if rumours were correct and I had to pass 36hrs in a stupor for lack of anything else to do, there's no way I'd be allowed to find the secret squirrel drinking dens that Swissman had alerted me to as I checked out this morning. Wrong sex. Just for starters.

Navigating the airport was a bit of a challenge for all the reasons that extensive renovation excuses would imply. Perturbed I couldn't drag all my luggage up all the steps to the Information Desk, I decided to head for buses, taxis and collection point and hope that someone somewhere would see me and somehow help. The plane had been virtually empty but there were a few small groups of people around so I hung slowly back to see what others did before taking the plunge. I'd decided there would be an airport hotel if all else really did fail (though secretly I knew there wasn't one because I was beginning to sweat silently on the sheer folly of my ways).

Get a grip, Ruston.

So I did. I got to the taxi point and decided to look like I was waiting for someone while silently watching what was going on by standing by the closed information point (it was lunchtime) and letting others make their moves. A family that I somehow guessed were going to be staying where I thought I would were trying quite hard to get a taxi but not standing in the right place. Meanwhile, I scanned all the brochures (two) that were left outside the abandoned help and realised that the Radisson had clearly anticipated my departure time tomorrow evening of 9pm by offering an included 6pm checkout. That's me, I thought. I've still got more reading left than time so it could all be a whole lot worst if the suggested push came to shove.

I had changed all my Ringetts in to Brunei dollars so I had $25 for the taxi and soon I was in it, confidently declaring my destination as if I had any idea, whatsoever, what I was doing. Almost the first thing you notice is that it is immaculate. Lamp posts designed to be trees on the first big roundabout and then an absolutely breathtaking building. I asked if it was a Mosque. No Ma'am. It's the Sultan's business building. Right. He knows about style then.

Not bling. Not OTT. Just truly, truly breathtaking. I was jaw dropped. And beginning to anticipate something that alcohol and disney can't buy. We then passed the State Parliament building. I've seen my fair share but after London and Berlin, it ranks for me 3rd. Stunning. Sleek. Understated. Surprising.

OMG. I began to feel my underneath self, just as I felt 20yrs ago on my last gap year. Engaged. Alive. And about to re-discover why I first fell for Malaysia, truly Asia, all those years ago. Visiting Singapore then, I went up through Jahore Bahru and went up to Malacca and its fort via Malay longhouses and tea in a new concrete settlement and felt my british welcome for all the years of colonialisation but also help in the war years. In a long coach tour, we saw oceans of palm plantatons. Poor but proud, hardworking but hard up.

The last time I was in a Radisson was in Leeds when we had 63 runners for the Yorkshire Haven in the Jane Tomlinson Run for All. They have chosen us as their 2012 charity and what resonates, resonates. You reap as you sew. So I turned up and thought, I bet I'd have been better to book in advance but figured if they were full, well, there'd be other places to go. Hopefully.

The absolutely lovely lady on check-in took one look at me and found her room and best-rate. Interested, kind and hospitable, she soon understood my needs and my solo status. Trying hard to help, she did. I asked about city tours and any tours but its quiet and no one is really here so no one is really able to be a tourist. Which is cool because it makes me a traveller and that is where I truly begin to feel alive.

In the end, I had a room and I had a map and with a clear mandate to leave the hotel dressed appropriately for a  devout Muslim country, I felt confident that I was going to be just fine, all alone. And with a cursory read  of the Borneo Bulletin Yearbook 2012, I was off and informed. Bring Brunei on.