June 2014: The Malaysian Way to Travel

We just about found a secluded beach

We just about found a secluded beach

“Malaysia: Truly Asia” claims the worldwide advertising campaign for Malaysia. It is. It’s probably a lazy description, but imagine a mix of China, Thailand and India and you have Malaysia. A predominantly Muslim country where ladies in bikinis swim alongside ladies in full body (and head) covering (“burqinis”, as they’re probably not called); where the tranquillity of a Buddhist temple is regularly interrupted by the call to prayer from a nearby mosque; where billboards for make-up sit alongside billboards extolling the teachings of Mohammed. Multicultural, certainly, but how readily the cultures were willing to mix wasn’t that apparent to us.

Having managed to endure nearly two weeks in the Seychelles with me and Bron in October of last year, our oldest Shanghai friend – Rachel* – once more met up with us for a few days in the sun; this time with her boyfriend – Ben (also known as “The French Gentleman”).

So why Malaysia?  It gave us a chance to head back to Shanghai for a few days and then visit a relatively nearby country with enough to keep us occupied for a couple of weeks.  Beach holiday resorts for long periods of time are fine if you have the sustained mental capacity of Jedward: “Woohoo – let’s go in the sea today then sit on a sun lounger for 8 hours! Woohoo let’s do the same thing for the next 14 days“. I plainly can’t do this, so coerced the other three into a somewhat extended island hopping Malaysian trip. We travelled from Kuala Lumpur up to Langkawi, headed back South to the colonial town of Georgetown on the island of Penang before being chauffeured over to Malaysia’s east coast for a night in Kota Bharu and an extended stay on the Perhentian Island of Kecil.

The Petronas Towers - at the bottom

The Petronas Towers – from the bottom

Before meeting up with Rachel and Ben, Bron and I had a night in Kuala Lumpur followed by a night on an overnight train.  One was more luxurious than the other.  We knew the train would be a little basic, and for £8 we can’t complain too much, but I don’t think Bron was expecting to have to share her the bed with two suitcases (a lesser known advantage of being 5’2”).

Bron, Rachel and Ben celebrate Rachel's birthday

Bron, Rachel and Ben celebrate Rachel’s birthday

Other than the cockroach lurking in the bottom of the poppadum bowl (obviously waiting for us to clear enough room for it to climb out), Langkawi gave us a great introduction to the islands of Malaysia.  It’s a duty-free island too, enabling a fully liquid picnic next to an inland freshwater lake and the opportunity for Rachel to celebrate her birthday in a swimming pool with some cheaper (but definitely not cheap) Champagne.  Ben took the ladies on a trip up a cable car for a few scenic views, but I refrained, preferring not to be hung by a cable several thousand feet up.

Ben, Rachel, Bron and me in the Campbell House reception

Ben, Rachel, Bron and me in the Campbell House reception

A tip for anybody heading to the former British colonial town of Georgetown on Penang: avoid the turgid, soporific chains of Marriotts, Holiday Inns, etc, and instead stay in the Campbell House Hotel.  Genuinely the best breakfast I’ve ever experienced in a hotel with the equivalent of a 6 course tasting menu– no “help yourself” style buffets here.  Also featuring the friendliest staff in the whole of Malaysia, huge rooms with unique character in each and an ideal position at the heart of Georgetown’s mixture of architecture, culture and, of course, restaurants.  I’ve never tasted “Nyonya” cuisine before – a truly unique flavour for local, Malaysian food from ancient Chinese settlers.  The food in the “Nyonya Baba Cuisine” restaurant alone is worth a return trip to Malaysia just to try out a few more dishes.

If they don't know how to make a Long Island Ice Tea, make it yourself

If they don’t know how to make a Long Island Ice Tea, make it yourself

Penang also features an aging funicular journey up to Penang Hill, with the promise of “High Tea” at its summit; something you probably can experience if the restaurant isn’t closed for a private function when you get there.  We had a close approximation nearby – scones and a cup of tea – in a restaurant temporarily missing their bar manager.  This only relevant since I asked for a Long Island Ice Tea (tea themed, obviously) and ended up making it myself.

 

In the water at Long Beach

In the water at Long Beach

Never has the disparity between East and West been so narrowly apparent than by crossing from the west to east coasts of Malaysia. From the welcoming, multicultural islands of Langkawi and Penang to the deeply Muslim areas around Kota Bahru in the east. I have a degree of ethical dissonance when it comes to local customs, particularly when I find those customs so alien in respect to the treatment of women.  Since Malaysia is not my home country, I think it reasonable to respect local traditions but feel somewhat perturbed by the head to toe covering of the large majority of Muslim ladies we encounter.  But this isn’t a blog about the rights and wrongs of religion and its effect on society (as much as I’d like it to be!)

I’d be useless under torture. I discovered this at the cleverly disguised “Grape Tree Spa” during our stay in the Perhentian island of Kecil. Over two days, my torturer, an innocent-looking middle aged lady, took the art of torture massage to new heights. Boy was she good – complaints from me that the backs of my knees didn’t stretch in that direction were met sternly with “But your knees are not good!”. Bad knees.  Her thumbs and elbows pressed so far into my lower back that she have easily performed kidney keyhole surgery. Without the keyhole. And my eyebrows, raised and contorted under pain were swiftly attended to and flattened. Even cries of “That still hurts!” as her thumb reached down between the gap between your neck and shoulders you didn’t know was there was met with the unconvincing “Sorry, I forgot”. This plus the added bonus of several new mosquito bites and you have the perfect torture mass(ochist)age. Had it not been for Bron lying beside me, quietly coping with the same treatment I think I’d have made my excuses and left.

Our resort on Long Beach, Kecil, Perhentian Islands

Our resort on Long Beach, Kecil, Perhentian Islands

Speaking of mosquitos – there’s an old joke about three men in a jungle being faced with a lion. One puts his trainers on and starts running. The other two shout “You can’t outrun a lion!”. The first responds “No, but I can outrun you two!”. Replace lions with mosquitos and trainers with anti-mosquito spray and you have a good parallel.  It’s impossible to avoid the little buggers – the best you can hope for is that your particular brand of anti-mosquito spray is far more pungent than those worn by everyone else. The mosquitos are hungry and are going to eat someone.  If a “CSI Malaysia” were to exist, I’m convinced they could use mosquito bites to track the travels of an unlucky victim, with Georgetown mosquitos producing a far more agitated skin response to those from the more remote locations of Langkawi and the gentle nibbles of those on the Perhentian islands.

For our last location, we stayed at the Bubu Resort on the Perhentian Island of Kecil; a resort with the genius of idea of ensuring all guests return in time for an evening meal by providing two free cocktails per guest between the hours of 5 and 6pm.  Three days of lounging around on Kecil’s Long Beach, snorkelling nearby and watching people play with fire was a perfect end to our Malaysian adventure.  Malaysia is beautiful, features food unlike anywhere else I’ve travelled and is, for the most part, very welcoming.

The meeting of the inflatables

The meeting of the inflatables

Ben and Rachel (plus the bonus of spending a few days with Lauren** – Ben’s sister – and her friend Celine) – we’re getting used to this idea of travelling around Southeast Asia accompanied by ABCs and FBCs, as well as the introduction of Inflatable Batman to accompany Inflatable Starfish.  Here’s to the next one…

 

* Not oldest in age, I hasten to add.  Although she did celebrate a birthday out in Malaysia.

**Lauren – I have a feeling I’ve spelled your name wrong, probably because it’s French and I’m not!

 

May 2014: One Year Later…

Me, Bron and Rachel at the Bund

Me, Bron and Rachel at the Bund

“They” say you should never go back; that returning only serves to diminish, never enhance a memory. Bron and I decided to ignore this, returning to Shanghai almost a year after we left.  We stayed with Andrea, an American friend we’d met during our year in China, herself shortly departing to start a new job in Singapore. Andrea’s apartment is one block behind our former Shanghai house, practically overlooking both the house and our nearby local bar: a melancholic view from our temporary bedroom window.

Our Friday night in Masse

Our Friday night in Masse

We landed on Friday, and with our time in Shanghai limited, we went straight out after a quick freshen-up. We’d invited a few of those who’d in some way played a part in our short time in Shanghai – friends, former colleagues, former language teachers – to meet with us in our favourite local bar and were overwhelmed with the turnout. Chris (co-owner of the bar) agreed to let us use the terrace for our little gathering (arranged whilst in the UK via the medium of a Chinese social messaging app). Thanks to all who came to see us; we know the “Former French Concession” area involved a fair amount of travel for some of you.  For those of you who have also left Shanghai – we’ll no doubt see you over the next couple of years.

With the married couple

With the married couple

One of our main reasons for visiting Shanghai over this particular set of dates was to attend John and Erica’s wedding. A brave attempt at reading his speech in Mandarin was greatly appreciated, with the pace sufficiently slow enough to allow even Bron and I to understand elements of John’s tales of how he and Erica met.

Buffets at Chinese weddings are not a particularly good idea, unless you’re prepared to cope with everybody seeking food simultaneously. Not so much a mass brawl as a mass panic that food may run out very quickly. All in all a great evening, including spending time with Shawn and Andrew, the first people I met in China back in 2010.  John and Erica – many congratulations.

The ladies by the mysterious building

The ladies by the mysterious building

Sunday saw us take part in another Shanghai tradition for ex-pats – the boozy Sunday brunch (with free flowing alcohol). Initially with Rachel, Andrea and Grace, we were later joined by Isaac and Chong before staggering back to Andrea’s apartment over a very familiar set of streets. Andrea – thanks so much for letting us stay at your place.

On Sunday afternoon we just about made it (post brunch) to one of Shanghai’s huge railway stations to join Anny on a trip to her current residential town of Wuxi. A feast was waiting for us at Anny’s apartment; never any danger of going hungry when we meet up with Anny’s family.

Making fresh noodles

A man, making fresh noodles

Noodles for breakfast in China is normal as cornflakes, toast or sausages to a Westerner. And they’re always fantastic. In the smallest of restaurants, for around 50p, one can experience a true taste of China.  This we did each morning whilst in Wuxi, taking full advantage of being accompanied by somebody Chinese – absolutely no English is spoken (or written) in these tiny establishments.

Bron and Anny meet a rather large Tao statue

Bron and Anny meet a rather large Tao statue

With a little sightseeing and the arrival of Linda and her 8 year old daughter, Cake, we had a couple of days that I can only describe as being authentically Chinese.  We experienced fighting to get on buses (I resorted to swiping a man with my bag of Chinese vegetables as he tried to push Bron out of the way), wandering around a huge indoor market with giant stacks of fruit and veg that you’d struggle to get in an entire city’s worth of British supermarkets and a somewhat hectic meal in “Grandma’s kitchen” restaurant.  I have enough trouble coping with kids in England, so being abandoned with Cake in the restaurant whilst everybody disappeared to the loo en-masse felt like the longest 5 minutes of my life.  My rudimentary Chinese was met with a mischievous unwillingness to understand and shouting “no” to somebody who doesn’t speak English is quite tricky when the person is attempting to rearrange the table decorations in a fairly precarious manner whilst waiting for her Mum to return.

As ever, great to spend time with Anny, Linda and families.  The Virgin Atlantic credit card will hopefully help to ensure these meet-ups continue for many years.

We arrived back in Shanghai on Wednesday evening to spend a last meal near the Bund with Rachel, Andrea and Rachel’s two Eric friends.  Rachel’s favourite restaurant in Shanghai seems to feature the rudest waiters:

  • Waiter takes my side plate away as I’m eating bread.
  • “But I haven’t finished my bread yet!”
  • “Your main course will arrive shortly sir”
  • “I’m sure it will, but I’m still eating bread at the moment.  Can I have my plate back please?”
  • “No.”
  • Impatient Brit instead grabs plate from empty table nearby and plonks bread on it.
  • A different waiter serves for the remainder of the evening.

Our year in China – truly a year like no other – has left us with a like-minded group of friends, now scattered all over the globe. In some cases originally forced together through the necessity of seeking commonality in what still sometimes feels like a different planet, we know we have friends we will meet across the continents.

“They” say you should never go back. They have no idea.