On the way back from Niah Caves, we stopped to visit an Iban longhouse. The Iban are the largest of the native tribes of Malaysian Borneo, and longhouses are their traditional dwellings. As the name suggests, longhouses are big long houses within which all members of an individual tribe can live together. They come in all shapes and sizes - some more traditional and wooden, others new and made of brick and concrete; some with satellite dishes and new cars parked out front, others built by poorer tribes from a patchwork of rusted corrugated steel and salvaged wood.

We entered the longhouse from one end into a large corridor that stretched the entire length of the longhouse. This was the main shared space of the longhouse, the centre of communal life for the tribe. The corridor was about 5 metres wide and 200m long, with a floor of polished timber. All the way down the left hand side were the front doors to the apartments of individual families – about 80 in total. The beauty of a longhouse is that as the tribe grows and more families join the tribe they simply build more apartments on to the end of the house.

As walked down the corridor a couple of small children peered around one of the doorways, giggling with amazement at the foreigners and shoving their terrified younger sibling out in front of us, who shot back inside like a startled cat. We snuck a look in the open door after him and caught a glimpse of large sofas, rugs and a widescreen TV. A comfy modern home.

On the right hand side of the communal space, doors open out at regular intervals onto an exposed wooden balcony, where rice and wood and washed clothes are dried and feats are held during important festivals (including the annual harvest festival). Sitting on the floor in the breeze of these doorways were many groups of older tribespeople, whiling away the day with gossip.

Halfway down the longhouse is the chief's apartment, outside of which, hanging from the ceiling in the centre of the corridor is a collection of wicker and rope netting. As we got closer, we saw the skulls hanging within. These were the skulls of the tribe's defeated enemies – the Iban used to be head-hunters. Inquiring of a group of old men and women quietly chatting near the skulls, our guide told us that they belonged to fellow Iban from a rival tribe that they fought long-ago.

Talking further with the tribespeople in Malay our guide told us that they were quiet today because they were all tired from staying up late to watch the football, and most of the younger men weren't even awake yet, having drunk a little too much rice-wine with the game. Once they ascertained that we were from England, one of the men slapped his hand to his head and said, 'England? Wayne Rooney! England he play badly! No good! Play better Man United!'

Under-estimating the popularity of climbing Mount Kinabalu, we neglected to book our spots until it was too late, and so had to be content with the stunning views of the giant we enjoyed during our bus ride from Sepilok to Kota Kinabalu. At some 4095m, the mountain soars over the surrounding area, cloaked in mist like a giant slumbering dragon. We've agreed that we'll have to come back and complete the climb at some point (although I'm secretly quite relieved we weren't able to do it on this occasion – it looked massive!)

As a result, we had a couple of extra days on our hands, and chose to spend them in Kota Kinabalu, the biggest and most prosperous town in Sabah. We were planning on seeing the local sights and spending a day snorkelling off the coast in Tunku Abdul Rahman National Park, comprising a series of islands which offer the best chance of seeing marine life close up in SE Asia.

Sadly, fate intervened, and I returned from the jungle sporting a rather attractive red rash on my arms, legs, chest and neck. It seemed that my over-zealous application of a Tiger Balm-based insect repellent had resulted in a pretty sizeable allergic reaction, which left me feeling tired, sore and irritable. After a day of antihistamines gave no respite, we decided to pay a visit to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, to a) make sure I hadn't brought back anything serious from the jungle, and b) try and get rid of it as soon as possible. Malaysian hospitals seem a lot like British hospitals except they're more efficient, and A&E has a pet cat. Aside from this hygienic blind-spot, it was a relief to speak with a doctor (in English!) and within an hour and a half, I had been given a blood test, got the results (no dengue fever, hoorah!) and been given treatment, in the form of a hydro-cortisone shot.

James maintained that I was just being a hypochondriac, that it would've gone away by itself given time. He's probably right, but travelling when you're not feeling well is never much fun. Besides, this was the man who told me the cut on my finger was 'just a scratch' when I ended up needing 5 stitches, so I'm happier trusting my own judgment on such matters!

I was pretty tired and grumpy for the next couple of days, so we decided against the snorkelling trip and instead hung around the town, visiting the delightfully 70s Sabah Museum and Heritage Village. The museum itself was interesting, although the highlight for me was being asked to pose for a photo with a teenage schoolboy, who then proceeded to show off the photo to all his friends – before he was even out of my sight! The Folk Village showed all of the different types of wooden longhouse that the different native tribes live in – they all started to look the same after a while, although the highlights were the one with the natural trampoline, and the one with the collection of skulls in the roof, to ward off evil spirits. Looking forward to seeing a real longhouse when we get to Sarawak!