At the end of the last letter I was wallowing in a sea of woes, but my self pity has lessened somewhat, even though the scabs on the knees still resist any flexing.

I went back to the clinic on Friday to get it all looked at, and was dealt with by the same doctor, who seemed to be a bit happier with life than he was on the previous Wednesday night at 9 pm. I still found his speech a little difficult to decipher, starting as it did with a fairly heavy accent, then traversing the face mask and finally being only half heard on account of my deficiency in the hearing aid department to the tune of one.

Still, he undressed the wounds, applied unguents, gave instructions and out I went. He appeared a good deal more at ease with the world than last time. He even enquired about my travel insurance, and offered to write an account of the consultation. Nice of him to initiate that.

The wounds have sparked all sorts of nice encounters (and plenty of advice about taking care) from random people. While I was waiting for a pedestrian light to change a young guy of middle eastern appearance on a motorbike, who was waiting also, asked me what had happened. I went through the whole story again, he sympathised and in response to my question told me he was from Pakistan…and then offered to give me a ride back to the Airbnb. I declined, citing the necessity of keeping moving, but I was most impressed.

I went back to Pakman, the blind masseur, for another session. His name is actually Getman, or maybe Get Man, which he maintained was a Chinese name. The pain was much the same as before.

On Saturday I flew to Kota Kinabalu on Borneo to spend a few days with my good friend Andika and his family. Just like the progress through the security and passport control in Melbourne, this was a breeze, and it was all over in 5 minutes. But the assumption that I would be able to get some breakfast around the departure area was sadly mistaken…so I survived the waiting time and the 2 1/2 hr trip on some cashews that I bought from an old guy who wanted to know the saga of the scabs.

Andi and the family met me at the airport, and the older kid, the little Terence, whom I haven’t seen for over 3 years, came bounding up and hugged furiously. The second one, the 3 1/2 year old bounded up for another hug, but when I gave Camellia, Andi’s wife, a hug, the new little toddler she was holding got a fright and started wailing.

I stayed in a hotel, about 30 minutes from their place in the village, in the nearby town of Kota Belud. So in the evening Andi picked me up, and we negotiated the potholed roads, the wandering groups of cows, the stray dogs and the narrow roads to have dinner together. The food was great, and the kids played nicely together. But still little Nur was terrified.

On the way here from Kota Kinabalu there was torrential rain and lightning, but it all stopped by the time we got to the destination.

Andi drove me around the area to look at the sites, the nearby mountains, the lush tropical jungle, the villages where super mega mansions lie next to shanties, and the rather nice beaches.

The next night we had another meal of splendid little sardines, broccoli and spicy eggplant…

Little Nur started to relax a bit, and when I was leaving, and the boys were giving hugs, she joined in.

Whew, what a relief. I guess I must have looked a bit fearsome with a wounded head and black eye…

I have managed to shave off the gravel rash on my cheek, but the Great Red Spot still remains.

On Monday the little T was off to school. They start at 6.30 and finish at 12.30. It sounds a bit extreme, but Borneo is a long way east of Kuala Lumpur, so the sun is up very early. We picked him up at 12.30 and he seemed to be pretty tired…

For him then, he had an hour and a half at home, then off to another school to learn Arabic for 2 hours. Crikey.

At night Camellia had prepared another splendid and tasty meal of spicy fish and Bok Choy drenched in spicy sauce.

The whole family and I had breakfast together on Monday morning, then we travelled the 2 hours to Kota Kinabalu and the airport. Andi’s car is a pretty much clapped out affair, and the twisty, sometimes potholed highway provided a knuckle biting experience. Closer to the capital the quality improved greatly.We stopped for a drink along the way…

As we were walking to the drinks place little Terence held on to my hand which was nice.

We got to the airport, had the obligatory photo session, into the departure lounge then flying back to kl.

It was wonderful to see them again after 3 years of not.

Well…I stay in kl for a couple of days ( a visit to Pakman, a visit to Dr Optimist to get unstitched), then on Friday back out to the airport to fly to Bali.

See you later

T