Then it came, the recess week which marked the quarter point of the way through this random year abroad along with another milestone, oh yes, the big 2-1. I think birthdays are tough generally, unless you’re having a child-like birthday party complete with sugary foods, cream cakes and the resident clown, you are just shown that another year has passed and are left with a million questions as to what happened to it. Knowing that I was to spend this specific birthday in Singapore felt like the anti-climatic feeling one gets with new years and such dates wouldn’t matter; I was in Asia! Perfect for me even more, was the fact that my very birthday coincided with the start of recess week and subsequently my planned trip to Borneo.

Hitting the northern Sabah region of Borneo was a last minute decision as plans for Cambodia fell through and the less adventurous exchange students opted for beach hopping in Bali. Borneo, it just sounds so exotic, a place where only David Attenborough would go and hold big bugs and hug orangutans. We took a bus into Malaysia and from Johor Bahru took a flight to the third largest island in the world, Borneo. Needless to say, lack of organisation and a late night led us to stand at the immigration crew for two hours while the least pushy of our crew managed to arrive at the airport three minutes before the check-in deck closed spurred on by Malaysians whooping. Once the drama had settled an uneventful flight followed, we landed in Borneo and I was old. I know, 21 is the start of life, it’s a great age, its where all the great stuff happens, but I didn’t feel 21, I was just about getting used to no longer being a teenager and then bang I’m a proper adult. Nothing I’ll ever admit to again. Anyway my mind was briskly taken off such things as we ventured on canopy walks in beautiful jungles seeing pitcher plants and the famous rafflesia, a plant which eats anything and as a consequence smells like rotting human flesh. A nature walk brought about lots of monkeys, an eagle and a very fat orangutan called Vicki. She seemed content as the American tourists fed her with bananas and blinded her with their SLR flashes. I personally got the feeling she didn’t like me, but the guard told me her sombre expression was indifference.

Then came the biggest challenge of my new found adulthood; climbing mount Kinabalu. 20th highest peak in the world, tallest in Malaysia, 4095m above sea level, half the size of Everest, all these facts left me shaking in my cheap trainers I had bought especially for the hike. We began the climb midday and a few vertical inclines later, all were exhausted but mustered on due to our 4ft guide’s enthusiasm, this was his 100th climb. About 7km up we stayed in a mountain lodge, all a bit delirious and seriously underprepared for how cold it would be. After purchasing some gloves, hats, scarves – all things we’d never use again in Asia we made our move at 2am in order to reach the summit for sunrise.

Now, I’m a pretty optimistic kind of girl, but as I couldn’t feel my legs or hands and as I was pretty much sleep walking I was left thinking to myself ‘what kind of holiday is this?’. The last half an hour was the worst, the climb was intense and we were to hoist ourselves up by a rope in the complete dark. Hitting the peak was incredible for the sense of achievement but it was the epic view, watching the stars fade and the sunrise that will stay with me for a while. Pretty much; indescribable. We marched down like champions and our reward of a buffet eagerly awaited us. After gobbling down a few plates of banana bread, fish and rice we proceeded back to the main town of Kota Kinabalu to revel in our glory. The bed, the linen, the hostel all felt like paradise and sleep was beautiful and perfect. However, midway through this gorgeous sleep I was awoken by Simon who told me he’d thrown up everywhere and needed some assistance. I went to help, only to realise my stomach was trying to tell me something too. Two hours later with my head still firmly perched on a toilet seat, we realised that food poisoning had become us.

A few runs to the bathroom and a lot of Imodium later, we got ready to fly back home. The taxi ride to halls was the most interesting, as I suddenly felt like I was returning ‘home’. Granted, my home looked like some tacky resort and my room had the slowest ceiling fan known to man, but it was mine and I couldn’t wait to get back. Realising that you’ve adapted and understanding how easy it was to become used to things filled me with some notion of pride. I’d turned 21 in Borneo, I was home and I still had 2 days left of recess week for the Formula one; bring it on Everest!