August 14
I am pleased to report that I am back in pampered hotel
land. My hotel In Kuala Lumpur only has a five kitchen cafe this time, but it
still does a buffet. And I can see the Petronas Towers from my window. Though
I’m not sure how sensitive it is of the Malaysians to refer to them as the tallest
twin towers still in existence.
August 15
KL has definitely changed since I was here last- ten years
ago. Lots more skyscrapers and when I venture out I might mistake this for the
UK, or possibly the USA. The busy mall opposite is very up market - Chopard,
Tod’s- although there are also McDonalds and M & S. It’s five minutes walk,
but the hotel runs a buggy service there. The Malaysians don’t like walking and
they love shopping. The guide told me they select hotels based on their
proximity to the malls. He also told me they are thinking about building drive-in
mosques, where you don’t even have to get out of your car. I’m not sure if that
was a joke or not.
The weather pattern is currently sunshine in the morning and
rain in mid-afternoon I’m informed. The countryside is hazy. This is blamed on
the Indonesian forest fires.
It is still de rigueur, however, to call the city KL and Joha
Baru JB and so on. I went to Malacca today, which they can’t shorten, but they
do call it Melaka. I thought it would be a nice jaunt through some rural scenes
and I could take photos. The road was a three-lane highway, indistinguishable
from the M1 most of the way (except for the palm trees and the lack of road
works). After two hours the driver said he would take me the last stretch in to
town by the country route, which turned out to be a two-lane highway. Malacca itself
was lovely. More how I had expected China to be. Maybe they are just better at
renovating here. Colourful temples, quaint shops, merchants’ houses and old
craft workshops. Singapore in miniature, but probably with more character.
Back in my room I’m passing on dinner tonight. I’m still
full of buffet from yesterday. Too many interesting things to try.
August 16
It’s all very easy here. Everything is in English - most
things are very English. Asia for beginners. There’s a national day looming
here soon – August 31st and the flags are coming out. Why don’t we have one? The Malaysian flag
looks an Islamic version of the stars and stripes.
I was driven into the Cameron Highlands. Very posh little
SUV but even this has hardly any leg room. Everything is made for tiny people -
Lilliputian. More motorways complete with English style service areas including
Dunkin Donuts and KFC. Though a bit of Asian bazaar did creep in, with some
tourist tat and some very glittery versions of Claire's accessories. The last
part of the route today was indeed rural and wound continually and nauseatingly
for over an hour up into the clouds. Tea plantations so velvety green they were
begging to be stroked. And little towns straggling the backs of ridges with
timbered architecture that could almost be Scottish. Except that the effect is
more Super 8 motel. But it’s parky enough to be Scotland. Bit of a shock to the
system.
I wandered into the nearest town. Strawberry farms are the
order of the day. Healthy Strawberries, Biggest Red Strawberries, all sorts of
strawberry confections. As well as the golf course and the Ramadan market. The newspapers
have reported at least one death already from eating off these stalls. The
other hot news is that Golden Churn butter has been deemed to be non Halal and
Muslims are ordered not to eat it. It contains pig’s DNA. Am I the only one who
can’t work out how pig’s DNA gets into butter?
The hotel is ‘the epitome of colonial England’. All wood
panelling, afternoon tea and log fires. Delightful dining room, windows
festooned with strings of white lights. Shame my bedroom hasn’t got a log fire
too. Though it has got a huge four poster bed, so it’s quite cosy.
August 17
The staff here all call me Miss Daisy. Very deferential - I
think. It’s the first time I’ve actually stopped and done nothing. Or very
little anyway. I read in bed this morning and then I spent the whole morning in
the spa. As tea and strawberries are the local specialties they feature
heavily. I was supposed to have a relaxing tea bath. (Another first.) It looked
great, with rose petals and chrysanthemums floating on the water. There was a
tray resting over the bath that contained sugar scrub for my body, tea scrub
for my face, lime slices for my elbows and knees and a tea bag for my eyes. However,
I made a bit of a pig’s ear of it (oh sorry mustn’t say that here). Anyway, the
water was a little too cool, so I ran the hot water tap for a while. Till I realised
that all my artfully arranged scrubs and potions were floating and disappearing.
So I pulled out the plug to lower the water level and couldn’t get it back in. And
all my water and flower petals then disappeared too. Anyway, the bath was quite
good when I finally got going. There were even headphones to wear, if you like repetitive
plastic music. Then I had a brilliant body scrub and a very long massage. Well,
after that I was good for nothing. But I did crawl out to do the Jim Thompson mystery
walk later on in the afternoon. I should have learned by now that in Asia the
word walk is synonymous with sliding down narrow, muddy rainforest tracks
whilst simultaneously trying to avoid being garrotted by tree roots growing
across the path. There was only me and a guide. To add to the enjoyment it
started to rain and he issued us with ponchos. So there we were like two pixies
tottering around. The terrain necessitated him holding my hand quite a lot. The
secondary forest here too is being eroded as the wood is deemed useless and all
the rare orchids superfluous. The land is being developed for palm oil or
apartments. A giant oak tree had fallen across our path and the guide suggested
a long detour. I demurred as I didn’t want to prolong the excitement (especially
the hand holding) and we hacked our way through. Then I collected a leech,
which is another first. The little bugger took more than a sample test tube’s
worth. The blood’s still trickling down my leg. The guide also told me a very
long and complicated story about Jim Thompson. I had only previously associated
him with restaurants that sold Thai food and a house near Bangkok. However, it
seems he disappeared from the bungalow up the road here one afternoon at three in
1967 and never came back. The story involved communists, lots of local
witnesses, assassinations and the CIA and was far more involved than the one I
have just perused on Wikipedia. Quite exciting though.
August 18
Yesterdays’ exertions and massage certainly had an effect. I
slept for over eleven hours last night. When I finally emerged from breakfast I
got a taxi to take me up the mountain, through the tea plantations. The driver
was a happy little soul. Ignoring the extra £12 he had extorted from me for
going up the mountain he complained all
the way about the state of the road (it wasn’t great, but might have qualified
as an A road in Indonesia). Then he went on to say that it was a waste of money
going up the mountain anyway as it was always cloudy. (It was a bit cloudy but
I did get a view). Next he started on the tea pickers’ rickety wooden houses,
saying how dirty and horrible they were. He said he used to be a tea picker and
it was awful work. (It’s mostly mechanised round here now). One wonders if he
made much money taxi driving, as he obviously didn’t want this commission, even
though he was being paid by the hour.
“You go back to hotel
now? Good.”
Nevertheless, the plantations were stunning. (Far more
picturesque than any I have seen in India, Sri Lanka or China).
It was raining again this afternoon, so I had no choice. I had
to back to the spa.
August 19
I pulled this morning. A retired Aussie cattle rancher who
has had some kind of stroke asked me to go out for the day with him. His wife
is ill in bed and wasn’t consulted. But I had to leave for Penang. An
uneventful drive to the island, over the longest bridge in Asia (13.5 km). Driving
reminded that I forgot to mention the incursion of Tesco. The stores are
everywhere - all sizes. The locals seem very proud of them. I was really
looking forward to this hotel in Georgetown and it has lived up to its promise.
It’s even more colonial than the last one. All marble, palm trees and white
shutters. A four page cocktail list. I decided it looked like a smaller version
of Raffles in Singapore. Then I found out that it was built by the same people-
the Sarkies brothers- so not really surprising. The hotel boasts it has an Otis
lift that is one of the oldest operating in Asia. I am not as impressed by this
information as the hotel intended. I have been stuck in lifts before.
- Why is there always a telephone next to the toilet? Is that where people finalise business deals or is it where most emergencies happen? (Valiantly trying to avoid any bad taste puns here.)
- I have expounded before on the need to fold points into the end of the toilet roll. Why? I’d rather my tissue was untouched by human hand thanks
- Why do they always call at six pm to turn down the bed? Isn’t that when everyone has a shower before dinner? And why do they have to turn down the bed anyway? I can think of a lot of things I’d rather have help with than getting into bed
- Why does the person who calls to service he room always ring when you are on the toilet? And why do they not hear you shout please leave my room till later?
- Then there’s air conditioning, though that’s not limited to hotels. Why is it always set so you feel as if you’re sitting in a refrigerator? We’re always getting nagged to lower the thermostat a degree or two at home. If they increased all the air conditioning settings worldwide by 10 degrees it would crack global warming instantly.
August 20
Breakfast was absolutely sumptuous, on the veranda, with the
boats sailing by. You’re probably sick of me going on about food by now. This
dining room had juice made to order from every fruit imaginable. I ate some
sushi – for breakfast! - but I’m still contemplating the chicken curry and the
also made to order Asian soups and stir fries. Maybe tomorrow.
Then I ‘did’ the city. First impressions were that it was
less colourful than Malacca, but I soon realised that’s it’s actually more
authentic. Like Singapore there are Little India and Chinatown. It wasn’t too
obviously touristy, with all the locals going about their business. Little
India, for example, is full of saree
shops, curry stalls and Hindu temple offerings for sale and I wandered down
Harmony Street where there are temples, mosques and churches of all persuasions
coexisting happily together. Then past all the British colonial buildings and
the fort. Tricycle rickshaws were stationed on all the street corners. The more
competitive drivers had smothered theirs with artificial flowers. One even had
spinning windmills and an inbuilt music system. I took a lot of photographs,
mainly of Chinese temples and everyone was very friendly. I now know all about Chinese
clans. It also seems that there are even more celebrations going on or imminent.
The newspapers and shops are full of them. Not only is it National Independence
Day this month (Merdeka), it is Malaysia Day next month, when Sabah and Sarawak
joined the union. (Singapore did too, but we won’t mention that.) It’s Ramadan
the whole of this month and Eidhilfutr (spelled every way you can think of in
the papers) or Hari Raya the whole of next month of course. And for the Chinese
it’s the Festival of the Hungry Ghosts for a month. They have to leave out a
lot of food to feed all the family ancestors, so there are banquets and food of
all kinds in the temples. The Chinese temple also had a sign ‘It is forbidden
to roll the granite ball in the lion’s mouth’. I hadn’t even thought about
doing that until I saw the notice. Nevertheless, I love the atmosphere in these
temples, especially the ones where they are bring a lot of incense and
chanting. It’s so tranquil - I could sit and relax for hours. My route home
took me past the Christian cemetery. The Chinese name for it is ‘place for
people with red hair’
Back at base I lounged by the swimming pool. A little man
asked me if I wanted a foot massage and it seemed churlish to refuse.
August 21
I have resolved to lodge a stiff complaint with the hotel
management. My duck will only float on its side. Now I shall have to seek some
other amusement.
Management turn out to be otherwise engaged today. They are
filming the final of Asian Masterchef here and there are cameras and film crew
(who all look about 16) everywhere. They are posing little groups of Asian
beauties on all the staircases. The bar
is full of slightly older Chinese men talking about Nigella Lawson as if they
know her intimately. I haven’t seen her yet. We have to take a very circuitous
route to breakfast. Then a very arduous day. I got the hotel shuttle bus up to
their sister hotel in the north of the island and sunbathed by the pool there.
I did stroll on the beach, but there are jelly fish warning signs and no-one (unsurprisingly)
was in the water. Then I came back and did the same by the pool here. I have to
report that I also had a real conversation today, with a professor of anatomy
from Guy’s hospital and his German wife.
August 22
Off to Langkawi today, for my last four sleeps. I can’t
believe how quickly the time has gone by. I am flying, instead of taking the
ferry, because the travel agent told me to. The anatomy professor said the sea
can be pretty rough here. So hopefully this is the best option. It is chaotic
at the airport as they are building a new terminal. I can see why as I am
waiting for my flight; it is raining (despite the rule about only being allowed
to rain in the afternoon) and water is dripping onto my head.
Maybe the flying wasn’t such a great decision. We take off.
The illumination on the seat belt sign pings off and the stewardess throws us a
packet of peanuts. Immediately afterwards they announce it is time to land.
Great, short flight I think. But we don’t land. Bad weather in Langkawi. Even
more illegal rain there too. Which isn’t great either for the plane or for my
holiday prospects. We circle for a while and I start to worry about us running
out of fuel. That is obviously on the captain’s mind too as we then fly back to
Penang. We wait half an hour and then take off yet again. Everything is played
out in rewind but this time we actually get there.
When I finally arrive the resort is very different to my
last hotels but a perfect place to finish. It’s ultra modern, all big white
umbrellas and infinity pools. The view is gorgeous, lots of little islands
strung across the bay. It’s really pretty at night with the swimming pools and
trees all lit up. Very romantic.... It took me ages to find the stairs and then
they weren’t decorated. As I said that’s because the Malaysians don’t use them.
And I also found about 20 really posh little villas. The hotel calls them ultra
luxurious. They have their own swimming pool, massage area and staff quarters.
My room is lovely. Huge TV set into half a wall (honestly). Shame there’s
nothing on except bad Australian movies or the fighting in Libya. I’m watching
CNN, partly because the signal on the BBC channel isn’t great and partly to see
if CNN is any less obsessive than the BBC once it’s gets stuck into a story.
The answer to the question is really no. These channels are definitely turning
into clones of each other. CNN seems to have more English reporters than the BBC,
if, unfortunately, they do include Piers Morgan. The CNN content though is
still fiercely patriotic. Their take on Libya is that Obama has done exactly
the right thing keeping a low profile and that the Libyans must be seen by the
Arab world to have sorted themselves out independently. Cameron is implicitly
shown as posturing and over playing his own role or as being overly
interfering. When any credit is given to the leading of peace initiatives it is
given to Sarkozy rather than Cameron. Interesting.
Anyway back to the hotel and cocktails. There’s a martini
bar and a mojito bar. What’s more
there’s a free martini every night. This must be what heaven’s like. It’s just
a shame that it’s still bucketing down and the forecast for the next four days
says heavy rain. So much for my relaxing last few days on the beach.
August 23
All is not lost. Only a few spots of rain, so the exercise
for today consisted of moving from a sunbed on the beach to one by the
pool.
August 24
More excitement. Thunderstorms all night and a power cut
this morning. I’m also covered in incredibly itchy sand fly bites. So much for
a tropical paradise. Still a sprinkle of rain this morning so I sauntered into town.
It’s a duty free island and to be honest some of it looks like the hypermarket
area near Calais. Lots of fake clothes and handbags. I got quite excited by the
bags until I realised that they weren’t even copy designs. Similar items were
labelled Jimmy Choo, Mulberry, and so on. Even if I had wanted to make a
purchase it would have been difficult. Ramadan seems to be taking a toll on the
shop assistants. Most of them were asleep under the counters.
The highlight for me was watching a troop of monkeys make a raid
on a deserted bar. They swarmed across the trees and slid down the telegraph
poles much faster than firemen. Then they turned over all the bins and even
took half full glasses of juice (or cocktails?). Perching out of reach they
scooped the liquid out with their paws. Many were mothers with babies who
crawled out of their pouches and sat on their mum’s backs to watch the fun and
beg a bite or two. When it was all over they returned via the telegraph poles,
the mothers stuffing the babies back into their pouches before they vaulted up
into the trees.
The rain held off enough for more sunbathing and then the
hotel laid on unlimited free cocktails and canapés to make up for the power
cut. So I didn’t need to buy any dinner. And I had a very nice half hour’s
flirtation with a much too young Dutch hotel manager. He was avoiding having to
speak to other hotel guests and I had had too much to drink on an empty
stomach.
August 25
Well, it’s tipping it down today, so instead of snorkelling I’m
catching up on my diary, sorting out my photos, getting excited about coming
home (not) and listening to more CNN. Talking about CNN I have just heard the
weather forecaster say, “If this storm was in the Atlantic it would be
categorised as a Grade 3. And it is in the Atlantic," - an excellent
Colemanballs!
It stopped raining so I ventured out and managed half an
hour on the sunbed in total (there were several interruptions for showers)
before I gave up and retreated indoors. There’s a full gale blowing now.
Probably the tail end of Hurricane Irene. My capacity for dealing with it wasn’t
enhanced by the alcohol mistakenly added to the non alcoholic cocktail that I
ordered.
Now I’m trying to decide between watching Libya in minute repetitive
detail or sleeping, which probably amounts to the same thing.
August 26
It’s still bucketing down. This isn’t quite how I had
imagined finishing my holiday. At least I’m resting- I still can’t quite bring
myself to do any work.
My main worry now is whether I’m going to get home. I fly to
Singapore this evening and only have an hour’s turnaround to get the London
overnight flight. There seems every likelihood that flights will get disrupted again.
Especially if there are more thunderstorms and these seem eminently probable.
I shall close my diary, do my packing and watch the rain!
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