Jakarta, Indonesia

Amazing what a good night's sleep can do for you. I'm up and awake at 7am, refreshed and raring to go. We've got hours yet before we need to leave for the venue so I grab my flipflops and shorts and head down to the hotel gardens where a complex of pools are fringed by palm trees. With no-one else around I power up and down the pool, getting a good thirty minutes of exercise under my expanding belt to mitigate against last night's multi-course feast.

In typical fashion, by the time I've finished I'm starving again so head off to breakfast. It's a tasty affair but being a Muslim country there are huge piles of chicken-sausages and beef-bacon, replacing any pork products. I opt for a bowl of fruit, toast and to amused looks from the many Brits who are in the hotel, whip out a small pot of Marmite I've brought with me. A taste of home.

By 9am I'm back in my room and plugged into the laptop, piling through emails relating to all the other projects I'm working. The UK is fast asleep so I get a good five hours of writing, replying, pitching, deleting, saving, cc'ing, planning and releasing, interrupted only by the call to prayer drifting across the murky river outside the hotel. Without having to battle all the incoming email traffic I manage to clear my inbox and make real progress setting up the week ahead. Perhaps I should work nights at home instead!!

Time flies by and all of a sudden it's almost two o'clock and John texts me to ask if we're going to be getting lunch before we depart. I meet him and Matt on the 23rd floor for a quick bite to eat and then we hook up with Rod in the lobby where a people carrier awaits by the x-ray machines and security guards that keep us safe.

It's the first time I've stepped outside since my dawn swim and I'm not prepared for the wall of heat and humidity that overwhelms us. To compound matters there's no a/c in the vehicle just a basic set of air vents. With the choking traffic and high pollution we can't open the windows so sit sweltering inside, with the strength-sapping heat causing us all to slowly shut down into silence.

As we drive through Jakarta we get to see much more of this sprawling city of 20 million people. It's obvious that there is a lot of wealth here and a large middle class. Nice houses and cars abound, impressive offices and municipal buildings sit on tree-lined streets, while parks full of flowers intersperse the densely packed high-rises.

This is obviously a thriving city, with a commercial heart, and far less poverty visible in its vast, traffic-clogged centre than Indian cities. In fact, it's much more a cosmopolitan, bustling, functioning metropolis such as Bangkok and apart from the grinding traffic that moves at a snail's pace it all looks safe and happy. That said, it's still quite removed from the gleaming cleanliness and universal affluence of Singapore and the street stalls and roaming dogs remind us that the shanty towns are not very far away.

In the centre of the city we crawl past a number of huge monuments, cathedrals and mosques but they seem to be the only 'sights' of any note. We snatch photos through the windows as we pass an enormous obelisk and every now and again a statue appears but the recurring vision is of lorries, cars and thousands upon thousands of motorbikes.

After almost 90 minutes we make it through to Ancol, a district on the western side of Jakarta, where we reach the venue - Pantai Karnaval (Carnival Beach). None of us have been quite sure what to expect as gigs of this magnitude are rare events in Jakarta and previous visitors to the country have battled huge technical problems and seen their shows descend into riots. But the band's senior production manager flew out here six days ago to try and ensure the gig would happen, and it seems he's pulled it off.

A huge stage has been built which accommodates pretty much all 12 tons of the band's equipment and there's a proper lighting rig in place. The local crew have worked relentlessly and seem to have followed all the instructions to the letter and quite literally, the stage is set for a fantastic show.

Backstage a series of tents have been constructed to house production and hospitality areas and soon they are swarming with police and sniffer dogs searching for bombs - a salutary reminder that security is a constant concern. As we watch them go about their business a huge water-cannon truck is driven into position by the side of the stage in case things get out of hand and rioting begins.

John, Matt and I go for a walk to the main entrance to find fans to talk to for the article. But we go in the wrong direction and find ourselves on a beach with a little cafe. Palm trees, beach huts and stone statues make this seem like a typical resort but then we look out to the water's edge and see it is strewn with vast piles of rubbish. Beyond it are ramshackle boats floating in this plastic junk. Bizarrely, it seems that the locals must come here for a day at the beach and sit looking at a sea of rubbish.

We wander further on, awaiting a phone call from one of the senior guys at Rolling Stone Indonesia who has offered to take us to a local mosque where Maiden fans will observe evening prayers before the gig. By now it's almost dusk and mosquitos are making their presence felt so we slap on the tropical insect repellent, feeling sticky and toxic in the process.

At the entrance gate we have to fight our way out through the hordes and after much fruitless marching around in the sweaty warm evening air we finally find Adib from Rolling Stone and the mosque with minutes to spare. John starts firing off photos as the worshippers kneel and pray, many of them wearing Maiden t-shirts; a strange and wondrous sight. Matt interviews many of the supplicants about their faith and the band's huge popularity across the Muslim world but we can't linger as I need to get back and watch Rise To Remain.

Their sound is fantastic and they turn in a great performance but the crowd, who we have all been expecting to go insane judging by the hysteria of yesterday, are oddly subdued. They watch and listen and applaud but seem almost thoughtful in their response.

I initially put this down to them being unfamiliar with the support act, but their reaction continues when the video screens burst into life with the intro footage that accompanies 'The Final Frontier’. Whereas the Lion City of Singapore literally roared with unbridled excitement, the Jakartans seem stunned by the sheer scale of what they’re watching. But on closer inspection we seem them listening to every note, and mouthing along to every word, drinking in every second of the performance, rather than screaming their lungs out. It’s the kind of reaction that a Japanese audience has; almost polite and reverential.

For the encores I take Matt up onto the side of the stage and we watch ‘Number of the Beast’ and ‘Hallowed’ from the wings, with Bruce running past us up on the ramparts and belting the songs out and then we all run from the stage into the waiting cars and, the ubiquitous police outriders in tow, we race back to the city and our hotel in double-quick time.

With drinks looking set to continue into the night, I slink off at 1am past the well-dressed hookers openly touting for Western business-men in the lobby and bar, and quickly pack my things again before tomorrow’s departure.