One of my friends told me in bold terms that I'm "...hellbent and determined to get robbed on every continent" after I'd told him that e-mail access was hard to find in the part of Malaysia I'd been travelling in and this was why his mails had gone unanswered.

Robbed? Nope. More determined to have an encounter with the immigration authority of as many countries as possible. That's what it seems to be.

I noticed after I'd entered Malaysia that no one had stamped my passport. Thus making me technically an illegal immigrant. A condition, a state, understandably, which I'm always anxious to avoid.

So the following day I spent nearly six hours in the head office of the Malaysian Immigration Authority getting myself legitimised. One of the handful of westerners amongst the thousands of hard-working Bangladeshi, Cambodian and Indonesian house-maids and labourers all trying to get their work papers in order

I did get a visa stamped in to my passport eventually. Burden lifted, shoulders unbent; me a properly documented individual. Pity it was the wrong type of visa. I did n't find this out until I handed over my passport when I was leaving the country.

Had yet another lengthy conversation with another immigration officer this time at Kuala Lumpur airport, getting everything unravelled.

This makes the fifth country (Argentina, Italy, Slovenia and the US of A) where I've had to explain who I am, why I am there etc, etc...All of this, well to a sensible person at least, would say time to jack it in, but these boots are made for walking.