Sunstroke was threatening to lay me down flat, dead flat.

I know best.

I figured out a shortcut from the Brooke Gallery to the next bridge a couple of hundred yards away. This bridge isn't even updated on google maps, it's that new.

The walk following the roads is about 30 minutes, says the cashier.

I'll cut that to five minutes, says I, full of certainty.

Sure enough, I get lost. I'm cutting through private property. That must be an orchard garden, I'm getting close.

No I'm not. My bottle of waters spills in my bag. There goes my water supply.

The roads lead all over the place but I can't see the parliament building that's next to the bridge.

It's  a maze. I hail down a motorbike. I'm on Astana road, so I'm getting close. But I'm really feeling hot, I'm overheating and the sun is coming down strong. There are a few clouds but too early to cover the sun. I use my bag to protect myself from the sun. But no good.

Then Herman, a Malay, pulls up and says jump on. He takes me down to the bridge. He doesn't want any cash. He's saved my life.

I'm on wobbly feet now. On the tourist street, I rehydrate along the way.

That was a close call. Sunstroke in the tropics can be deadly. 

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