If for some unimaginable reason I was only allowed to return to the Southeast Asian subcontinent just one final time in my entire life, I would go to Malaysia.
Over a mere six days of traveling, I had the opportunity to take in three wildly diverse locales that gave me a nice sense of what Malaysia is all about. And I want more. Starting from the beach paradise of Langkawi island, I time-traveled back to the colonial days in Penang - the gastro-heaven I want to go when I die - with the trip ultimately culminating in the capital city, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia's modern cosmopolitan statement to the world. This country has it all. And with the freedom to speak in both Mandarin and English (or Chinglish), it really feels like home away from home.
Each place offered something new and exciting, be it the nature in Langkawi, the food in Penang or the exciting urban sprawl in KL. Weaving through it all, Malaysia's diverse racial mixology - a simplified hierarchy (from top-to-bottom) of Malay, Chinese, Indians - has created one of the coolest cultures in Asia. And these people love to eat. It's like Singapore, but not as artificial, with all the interesting crusty edges left intact.
Though almost everybody speaks English ("Ingerris"), it may be handy to learn a few choice terms before planning your own jaunt. Let's start here before the trip begins.
Important terminology:
makan - THE most important word you need to learn for the following pages of Neil dribble. This means "eat" in Bahasa Melayu (and Bahasa Indonesia). Like "mangia" for the Italian set. If you engage in just one activity in Malaysia, it is makan.
uncle/auntie - the polite and respectful term when referring to men or women older than you, whether directly addressing them or talking nastily behind their gross wrinkled backs.
KL - short for Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia and home to the famous Petronas Twin Towers.
lebuh/jalan - Bahasa words for street/road, the latter abbreviated as "Jln" on maps and street signs.
"-la" - tack this on to any word, any phrase, anything in general (hell, you can even exclaim "la" on its own) to be super local. A staple of Manglish (Malaysian-English) and Singlish (Singaporean English). Examples: "Hey uncle, why you so like that la?" (Translation: "Excuse me sir, why must you behave in such a manner?") or "I order cheeseburger la" (Trans: "I would like to order the cheeseburger.") or even "No la" (Trans: "No...la"). Bonus points if you can get the hang of the Chinese spin on "la," pronounced as "lao" or "liao." (Also popular in Hong Kong and Taiwan)
Now that you're fluent in Bahasa, let's begin.
After a five-hour flight from Shanghai, I caught a glimpse of land during our descent from the unpolluted skies above Kuala Lumpur. Wide swaths of palm plants covered the bumpy hills surrounding KL International Airport and I could already feel the humidity of the tropics. On our itinerary, the first stop would be Langkawi Island, an hour away by domestic jet. All we had to do was take a 20-minute shuttle (5 RM) from the KLIA terminal to the neighboring Low Cost Carrier Terminal (LCCT) and we'd be that much closer to the beach.
As the Indian bus driver uncle pulled up to the LCCT, I spied a Coffee Bean And Tea Leaf. My addict cravings were giving me a slight tick, and the faster we checked in, the faster I could get my soothing ice coffee. Inside the terminal, our flight to Langkawi was conspicuously absent from the departure listing. With over four years of China travel under my belt, I just chuckled at our luck. I knew this wouldn't be pretty.
Luckily we didn't catch this...Flying on discount airlines like AirAsia are extremely convenient and cost-efficient (think EasyJet). However, being a cheapo carrier, you also put yourself at some minimal risk due to shady horseplay aimed at increased revenue. As I guessed, our flight had been canceled - probably because it wasn't full - and the next one out of KL would be at 9:30 PM, a good four hours later. With nothing to do but grumble and wait, we sought solace at the Coffee Bean, our home for the next few hours.
Sitting at the table with an icy coffee in my hand, condensed humidity running down my arm from the plastic cup, I was in hell. Not only were we forced to wait in the ghetto terminal, the comparative luxury of the indoor, air-conditioned Starbucks, McDonald's and Duty Free shops laughing at us from KLIA, but we had to wage battle against the swarm of flies buzzing all over the place. Funny, though I had only been in the country less than an hour, I didn't notice any rank odors, any open sewage, or any otherwise obvious signs that would warrant the number of flies at this place, but I guess the open doors and abundance of eateries had something to do with it. The real icky danger of a fly flying into my mouth as I took bites from my sandwich did nothing to calm me. The dude sitting near me in a banana yellow shirt must have had his flight delayed long enough to get used to the unwanted company: he was covered in about 20 flies. I counted.
Almost as annoying as my little winged friends were the abundance of grungy misfit white dudes who were probably making pit stops in between surf jaunts in Bali and ladyboy sightseeing in Thailand. A good rule of Life: white people should never have dreadlocks. Ever. Especially one creature I saw, who had shaved the top of his head in a weirdly Manchu queue fashion, leaving the back of his noggin to shower a nappy waterfall of grungy dreads down to his ass. Where do these people work? What do they do for a living? How do you function in society looking like an overgrown mop? I was missing the relative conformist civility of Singapore, but I kept the faith, knowing it could only get better.
Looking at my watch, barely any time had passed and we still had a few hours to go. I continued to people watch, alternating between frantic hand waving and sputtered expletives every time a fly landed near any of the choice orifices on my face. I pity those starving children in Ethiopia not for their lack of food, but for all the goddamned flies. Poor, bloated souls.
White folk aside, I realized there were a lot of Muslims around. Girls in head scarves, women fully covered in black, dudes in skull caps. In my t-shirt and jeans, I was sweating like a pig (apologies for that filthy reference to all the Muslims in the audience), so I couldn't imagine being wrapped in mummy noir in that heat. Why is it that the major Muslim strongholds in the world are all in super hot places? I'm sure covering yourself in a thick black cape that only exposes your eyes would be extremely helpful in a harsh, windswept ice box such as Siberia, Canada or Portland, Oregon, but in the 100-degree heat of the desert in Dubai? Good Lord, I'll take the flies over that torture any day.
At a certain point between food coma and heat stroke, my buttcheeks fell asleep and it was time to change scenery. We took a stroll around, past the tiny duty free shop, bookstore and KFC. McDonalds looked attractive, but when I realized it was also non-AC'ed and open to the elements, I decided to save myself the trouble of swatting greedy flies away from my delicious burger. We ducked into Body Shop, empty but for a pair of giggling clerks who wouldn't have noticed if we stole all their Body Butter, and quickly left after seeing about ten dead flies on the otherwise clean white floor. At the end of our rope (why don't I ever get stranded in the COOL airports!?), we decided to stock up on some snacks and beverages before going through customs.
Inside the convenience store, I browsed through the aisles, rolling my eyes at novelty Malaysia t-shirts and overpriced counterfeit purses made in China. In the food section, I was perusing the biscuits when a shady looking Chinese guy with bleach-blond hair and grimy clothes slid up beside me like a lecherous snake, tapping the top of his wrist with an urgent, bony finger. Mere hours out of Shanghai, I guess I was still in China-mode; I thought he was trying to sell me a watch. I scowled and shook my head, politely waving him away with a "No, no!" like the flies I had fought with at the Coffee Bean minutes before.
He shot me a look of disgust and said, "Aiya, NO," shaking his head in frustration, "time, man, TIME!"
He just wanted to know what time it was. Embarrassed and confused that I had not, in fact, just been accosted by a watch peddler, I extended my arm to let him view for himself, which I suppose was even ruder, as I couldn't even be bothered to tell him the time. What has China done to me?
Lest I bore you into a similar state of catatosis that we experienced that endless evening, I'll fast forward a few hours to when we actually boarded our plane. It was almost 10PM, the only solace provided in the preceeding hours coming as the result of hearing Muse's "Starlight" on the Duty Free shop speakers (I am easily pleased) and snagging a pack of sour cherry candy strips. After a quick flight, we finally landed in Langkawi after 11PM and, by a stroke of planning genius, had to walk only 5 minutes from the airport to our temporary hotel lodging for the evening. After a full day of travel that was supposed to have ended many hours earlier, I passed out as soon as my bags hit the hotel room floor.
The next morning, breakfast arrived via room service. Nasi lemak (coconut rice and various fixings) and roti canai (toasted Indian naan bread with curry) with some teh tarik (pulled milk tea). These were nectar and ambrosia compared to the grub that we had to share with the flies the night before and a "taste" of things to come.
Recharged and ready, it was finally time to get this trip going.
Langkawi: Eco-Paradise On Eagle Island
I am not a beach holiday guy. This may surprise some of you, as my amazingly bronzed skin is famous the world over. I just find lounging about on a strip of sand for extended periods of time to be a colossal waste of money spent for the purpose of actually learning about a new place, as well as a phenomenally inefficient use of otherwise valuable sightseeing time. What a buzzkill, I know. Therefore you'll be shocked to learn that, not only did I make it to the beach, I actually got some color. As the icicles begin to crystallize on Satan's goatee, let me introduce you to Langkawi, not-so-hidden gem of the Andaman Sea.
Unbeknownst to me, Langkawi is a pretty popular destination. Just because I hadn't heard of it before, doesn't mean it doesn't attract hordes of people during the high season. Luckily we arrived in the golden lull between the rainy season and the summer tourist bonanza. For during our very short stay, it was pleasantly quiet and relaxing.
Langkawi ("lang" = eagle, "kawi" = strong), named in honor of my favorite Hindu bird-god, Garuda, who supposedly used the island as a resting place in between his Vishnu chauffeur duties, rests snugly off the northwestern coast of Malaysia, near the border of Thailand. As such, visitors can expect the same white sandy beaches and crystal blue water, but without the high-pitched *manick-phrik-phaaang* click-clack chatter of the Thai. For those such as myself who crave a little more to their vacation than lethargy and skin cancer, the island is packed with adventure options, like mangrove forest riverboat treks, rainforest hiking and nature-appreciation guided tours, the latter of which was the highlight of my time on the island.
Berjaya ResortsWe stayed in a quaint bungalow deep in the rainforest near Pantai Kok (Kok Beach, minds out of the gutter!) at the Berjaya Resorts. Honeymooners, take note: this place is fucking awesome. In the spirit of foresight, I already left a down-payment for that momentous day in the distant and unknown future, when I will duly get my freak on to the sound of lapping waves and screaming macaques. Assuming that's OK with the little lady, of course.
Though a little inconvenient (the resort is massive and requires tram pick-up just to get from your room to the lobby), it is a little piece of tropical paradise. The resort's beach, along the western fringe of the island, had some of the softest sand my toes have ever touched, so refined by the swarms of itty-bitty crabs that burrow deep into the earth every morning and night, in line with the flow of the tides.
ParadisioOnce we had checked-in and settled our things, it was time for a little beaching. I'm ashamed to admit that this was the first time I had ever seen such a classic Southeast Asian beach in its prime. Scanning the pristine sky and clear warm water, I could understand how one might forget about the real world and just stay here forever. However, this is still me we're talking about, so after enjoying a quick dip, it was time to get down to business.
Zipping speedily through the island's vast paddy fields in the shadow of the lush green mountains, we made a quick trip to Langkawi's "downtown" area: Kuah.
Jump quota for the morningKuah, the Bahasa word for "gravy" (I shit you not), is the busy hub of the island, the entry point for daily ferries that can ship visitors north to Thailand or south to Penang, the place to get all your duty-free shopping done in a flash (the island was granted special duty-free designation in 1986, making it very popular for alcoholics and those folk who stubbornly resist quitting their disgusting smoking habits). Here you'll find your Starbucks, your 7-11, your Baskin Robbins, your KFC, and most importantly, your Kenny Roger's Roasters (how that man created a profitable empire of roast chicken restaurants in Asia is beyond me).
At the Kuah jetty, we bought ferry tickets for our trip to Penang the next day, an affordable 60 RM for a 3 hour cruise. Then it was time to eat.
Our first official Malaysian meal consisted of Indian cuisine. Given the choice of chicken microwaved in the name of a country legend or thick mutton curry, it was a no brainer. Walking into the restaurant, which was set up more like a cafeteria, the dude who I can only assume was manager immediately latched on to us.
"What you want, eh? Got meee gorrrrreng, got mut-tuuuhn, ayum. What you like, hunh?"
I wanted everything.
We started with a plate of biryani rice and rich mutton stew. The white rice grains were tossed with colorful bits of veg, fragrant and full of aroma. The tender mutton strands fell apart with the fork stroke, the spicy red sauce soaking into the biryani. I could eat this - and the toasty naan bread with chicken kuruma that followed - everyday.
Nasi Biryani
Mee GorengWhile digesting, we took a stroll along the jetty to Dataran Lang, or Eagle Square. This frightening tribute to the island's namesake centers on a giant eagle statue, seemingly in the midst of take-off. The talons are the size of small horses, making it look like a prehistoric nightmare. Or the monstrous Eagles from Lord of the Rings. A Garuda statue of this size would be epic, but I'm guessing it would terrify small children and the elderly. After helping some Indian chaps snap pictures of their crew in front of said eaglezilla, I made my own pitiful attempt at flight with a few jumps, just as the daily afternoon shower began to pelt us with raindrops.
Amazing Wing SpanSeeking solace in Starbucks, I enjoyed a satisfying chai (why don't they serve these in China!?!?! gah!) in a big fluffy armchair, reading about my fabulous new idol, the glorious homo Chef Wan, in the local expat mag. It was interesting to see that expat life in Malaysia is quite similar to that in Shanghai, i.e. lots of complaining and a sense of superiority to the locals, but with vague attempts to hide this contempt by showing weak examples that make it seem like the expats happily enjoy learning about local culture and interacting with the local populace. Look at the picture of our expensive expat school, we included a brown kid and a girl in a veil (children of the lunch lady and cleaner, respectively)!
When the rain ceased, it was time to return to our rainforest sanctuary for the next item on the day's list: the cable car and sky walk. Barreling back to Berjaya in a demon minibus with a pair of Germans, we were dropped off at the neighboring Oriental Garden tourist area, which was like a Malaysian Epcot Center. The big draw here is the Langkawi cable car, which carries visitors up a vertigo-inducing climb to the top of Gunung (Mount) Machinchang, over 700 meters above sea level, the highest point on the island.
Going Up!
Thank God We Weren't Riding With HerAs anyone who has ever traveled with me knows, I am deathly afraid of heights. Not to the point of fainting or anything silly like that. More like a feeling of deep and visceral dread, where my testes simultaneously burrow UP into my body and feel like imploding from fear-induced pressure. Like a pelvic black hole. I break into a cold sweat, get pale, start to shake, and require the nearest pal (usually, to my shame and embarrassment, a female) possessing more fortitude than yours truly to guide me back to safety before my nuts pop out my butthole. That kind of fear. So, I was surprised to find that the ride up to the viewing station 600+ meters above sea level was not that bad. Until I got to the viewing platform.
Almost to 700!
Trying VERY Hard Not To Cry
Suggestions? Provide Diapers.
This bit was terrifying
The Sky Walk!My first go across was terrifying, especially at the halfway point, which is the least stable and succeptible to the high wind gusts that happily blow through this natural wind tunnel, shaking and swaying the bridge. The creepy mist didn't help my nerves either. Before losing control of my bladder and sphincter muscles, the whole ordeal was over. Happy to have experienced it, overjoyed to be back on stable land.
Whoa! Ankle Shot! Scandalous!
JUMP! Langkawi Sky WalkOn the way down, we caught sight of the Telaga Tujuh, or Seven Wells, a waterfall hidden in the rainforest below. We had originally planned to take a trek to this natural wonder, but time constraints and common sense got the best of us. Since there is no real pathway to get there, most tourists stumble through the trees to reach the falls. Guidebooks, hotels and local guides all recommend that this trip is made before nightfall, as the lack of lighting, potential disorientation and dangerous terrain make it very unwise. Getting eated by a python isn't too fun either. In Berjaya's guest handbook, they even mention that hotel guests have gone missing in the past. Lovely prospect, but we had better plans.
Poor Mr. Stick ManBack at the resort, we arrived just in time for the evening's free nature walk, hosted by Dev of Dev's Adventure Tours. Waiting in the lobby, I saw a tall, dark man the color of coffee beans stride forward in hiking boots and rolled socks. His coarse, graying hair was shorn close to his scalp, barely hiding the receding hairline, and his fierce eyes hid behind wire-framed glasses.
Say hello to Dev, the Malaysian version of Steve Irwin. But far less annoying.
Dev is the head of the aforementioned eco-friendly tourism company, a conservationist, nature-lover, scientist, library of factoids and multilingual whiz (6 languages, including Mandarin and German). Each night, he offers free walking tours at Berjaya, spreading awareness and appreciation of the resort environs and the exquisite ecosystem of the Langkawi rainforest. It's all part of the cause.
The best part of his tour is the infectious passion that he exudes. This man loves nature and cares about it as a loved one. While nowhere as fervent in my convictions, I was overjoyed to meet someone else as unabashedly curious and interested in the natural world. If I were any younger, this guy would be my hero. Aw, who am I kidding, this guy was one of the coolest humans I have ever met in my life. But enough fawning for now, it's tour time.
From the hotel lobby, we began our walk through the resort grounds, which were filled with amazing creatures hidden right before our eyes. While avoiding getting run over by the hotel's tram cars - which Dev angrily pointed out were polluting gas-guzzlers he was trying to have converted to electric Smart trams - we made our first stop.
Dev plucked a firm leaf from a nearby tree and snapped it in half. Running his finger along the rip, he showed us the white powdery film left on the fingertip. The chemical substance in the leaf, he explained, was currently be researched by pharmaceutical scientists because it could potentially serve as a way to combat something big like AIDS or MS (sorry, I forgot what). Because of this, he lamented that the ongoing destruction of Malaysian rainforests for timber was a tragedy, as we could potentially be losing entire flora species that might one day cure some of our scariest diseases.
This little guy, in order to attract insects to pollinate it's relatively boring orange flower and hidden placement within the brush, developed huge white leaves in order to attract insects from farther away. Mother Nature is genius.As the mood got a little grim, Dev's eyes lit up like spotlights and he wheeled around toward a tree nearby. Near the top, clinging to the trunk and camouflaged perfectly, was a flying lemur. My mouth dropped open and, dumbfounded, I craned my neck back to stare at this creature the size of a small infant.
Now, we've all been to zoos. We've all seen various forest critters ambling about our backyards, destroying mom's rose garden or plucking up the carrots, more of a nuisance than anything. But for some reason - perhaps the novelty of it all - seeing my first wild lemur was monumental. This one, a female, had a tiny baby clinging to her stomach. They just hung there, peacefully, almost as unaware of us as we had been of them just minutes before.
Sorry it's so blurry. It's that lump on the right side of the trunk.This was almost too much for me to process, so I whipped out my trusty notebook. As I asked Dev a bevy of questions that were my lame attempt to seem eco-educated (thanks, Discovery Channel!), he cocked an eyebrow and suspiciously asked me, "Are you a reporter?"
Embarrassed, I chuckled and told him that I had just been an avid nature lover from childhood and only wanted to record everything he was explaining, like a good student taking notes from a professor. This registered with him and I'd like to think we were buddies for the remainder of the tour. Later, I could follow him home for more fun and - why is the front door padlocked? - tell his wife and kids all about our intense spiritual bond and everlasting friendship. Oh it would be wonderful - why are the girls crying? I'm Daddy's best friend! - best friends forever! Are those police sirens I hear?
The lemur, which had climbed up the trunk of the tree during my brief, delusional stalker fantasy, is biologically more akin to a monkey, making it also closer to us on an evolutionary scale. The "flying" bit of its name is the result of the giant skin flaps that connect its limbs, allowing it to actually glide like its cousin, the flying squirrel, not fly, like a bat. Its giant bugged-out eyes serve as mini calculators, registering depth and distance for its trajectory in "snapshots" that it must consider before gliding from tree to tree in the dead of night.
TwilightAs the sky grew progressively darker, the air was punctuated with distant cries. The macaques, those dastardly monkeys that wreak havoc throughout Asia like gangs of horny teenaged hooligans with a taste for garbage and gang bangs (see here, no shame!). In 2007, I was nearly stripped of my shorts in Bali when one of these little fuckers snatched a water bottle from my cargo pocket, almost tearing the fabric in the process, so I already had a high level of prejudice and distaste against their kind. Damn filthy shits. Worse than gypsies.
As I scowled in the direction of the macaques, Dev enlightened us on the freak habits of these lovely creatures, who copulate up to thirty times per day. Yes, you read that correctly. THIRTY. TIMES. PER. DAY. I don't know about you, but my weiner would be worn down to the proverbial bone and snap off if I had to pump the love hose every 48 minutes for the duration of my adult life. Because of this frequent fornication, these heavily touristed areas are overrun with the things, like a rat infestation in a crowded tenement.
Dev told us that, in the coming days, he would be leading a scheduled cull of the horniest males (i.e. the ones with the biggest balls, as he said so eloquently in his British accent) in an attempt to control the population. As he noted, this was necessary every once in a while, lest the Berjaya tourists experience more attacks on the resort grounds, more destruction of other indiginous species by these voracious omnivores (they even cannibalize, yum!), or more bungalow break-ins by hungry monkeys, who are quite literally a thieving menace. Atop the roof of a nearby bungalow, a group of these macaques loitered lazily in the cool dusk air, unaware that their alpha male friends were in for a little surprise very, very soon. Blam, blam.
Another nuisance to the area is the population of feral cats that prowl the forests. Mangy distant descendants of stray domesticated pussies, these are a big killer of indigenous bird species and, in general, a completely unwanted presence. As Dev spoke of this problem, a nasty little black cat with nappy fur, sticky eyeballs, and an infected asshole came creeping out of the ferns, emaciated and bloated with a litter of soon-to-be-born pests. I was disgusted at the sight of the thing, my contempt increased as Dev explained the trouble they cause for the native Malaysian fauna. I was half tempted to kick it into the path of an oncoming tram, but that would have been cruel. Let a hungry macaque have at it.
Suddenly, there was a big *whoosh* past our heads, as a giant brown disc swooped down and up into a tree in front of us, like a monstrous skin frisbee. The lemurs were out for their evening exercise!
Dev directed our attention to a tree that had snapped at the top, leaving the hollow trunk exposed to the sky. He told us that huge pythons lurked in those dark holes, waiting for unsuspecting lemurs to swoop nearby, at which point they extend their bodies, shooting out into the air to capture their prey. Once the lemur is clamped in their jaws and the life is constricted from their frail little bodies, the snakes devour them and hibernate in the hole for a month while they digest. Bonus points if they snag a mother with child. He said that on a recent tour, the guests were lucky enough to catch a glimpse of one attack, which terrified a 7 year old in the audience so badly that he had to be taken back to the bungalow, a screaming, crying mess. Lightweight little pussy, I'd have traded all my GI Joes to get a chance to see such carnage when I was a boy. Kids these days...
With that, we continued forth into the denser areas of the resort, out for our next target: the flying squirrels.
In our particular area, there were two types of flying squirrels: giant reds and pygmies. Lucky for us, we caught a glimpse of a giant red, which swooped down in similar fashion to the flying lemur.
The pygmies, on the other hand, were just that: fucking tiny. Thankfully Dev is an expert, so he could point them out with his giant handheld spotlight. About the size of an infant's closed fist, these little guys climb as high as possible and glide-hop from tree to tree like little puffy ping-pong balls being thwacked between branches. They were so tiny, I mistook them for falling leaves at first.
The forest was also inhabited by an assortment of hairless non-mammals too. Cicadas, tree frogs, giant geckoes, and huge spiders. Just hanging out along our trail without a care in the world as we passed them by. Other resort guests out for their nightly strolls must have thought we were insane, this motley crew of eight, craning their necks up to the canopy like their spines were made of jelly. For all they knew, the forest was devoid of life. But with our new knowledge, we could see it was almost as lively as the dance party going on in the lobby that evening.
Near the end of the trek, Dev bounded up a hillside with his flashlight, as if he just caught sight of the Loch Ness Monster or a Yeti. He came to a halt below a high branch and ordered us to be silent with a long finger against his lips.
Hoo, hoo...hoo, hoo.
I think I saw tears in his eyes as he informed us that we were witnessing something extremely special: a collared Scops owl.
Apparently on these tours, catching an owl in the feathered flesh is pretty rare, so we all made our best attempt to enjoy it. It was actually my first time seeing an owl in its natural habitat with my own eyes; we usually hear these things in our backyard, but that's about it. The small ball of feathers just sat there giving us a hoot-show. I couldn't have been more entertained.
As the trek ended, we caught a few more glimpses of flying lemurs, the females with babies attached to their chests and a few males marking tree-territory with dangerously powerful streams of piss. I kept my mouth closed for the remainder of the canopy gazing, lest I get treated to an impromptu golden shower.
I chatted with Dev for a bit, trying to squeeze as much Nature Channel info from him as I possibly could. In my younger days, this type of job was a dream for me. It was either this or paleontology. If I wasn't watching MTV or cartoons, I'd be watching nature shows. Actually, my TV consumption habits haven't changed much in 28 years. Meeting someone like Dev, a first for me, was the high point of my time on Langkawi. I would return to the island just to chat with him again. After all, the mangrove kayak tour and bird watching treks did look pretty fun.
Still high on eco-fumes, it was time for dinner. Of the choices at the resort, we settled on the ala carte restaurant, which thankfully served up a healthy dose of local cuisine. On the menu: samosas, randang, nasi goreng and some ice cold pints of Carlsberg.
The samosas were delicious, the little pastry puffs covered in thick mango chutney going down smooth with big gulps of the draught beer. The beef randang - hearty chunks of meat covered in spicy randang sauce - was competent, but nothing special. I've had better homecooked versions, which were also a lot cheaper. The nasi goreng (nasi = rice, goreng = fried) was also enjoyable, but reminded me of how much I love Malaysia's other nasi dish, my personal all-time Malaysian food favorite, nasi lemak.
Although nasi lemak is traditionally a breakfast dish in the area, I prefer to have it for lunch or dinner, as it is savory and spicy. Served on a big green banana leaf, nasi lemak consists of coconut-flavored white rice (not as fragrant here as in Singapore), maybe a piece of fried chicken or fish, some crunchy roasted peanuts, crispy fried mini anchovies and a dallop of spicy sambal sauce, which is hot and sweet. There is usually a side of fresh cucumbers to dull the heat, but the fire is all part of the joy. I love this stuff to death.
That night, I crashed fast and hard, sweet visions of flying lemurs and squirrels the size of Mary Poppins' umbrella floating through my head.
The next morning, we squeezed in some last minute swimming and sunbathing before our ferry to Penang. As I skipped down to the beach, I was just in time to catch the end of the morning dance of the crabs.
Hey Ladies~Scuttling about in swarms nearly a hundred deep, these tiny translucent crabs tip-toed at light speed with the ebb and flow of the tide. As the water receded, they'd bury down into the soil, twisting in circles and scooping sand around them, like corkscrews with shells. As I hobbled over like a sunburned Igor, some would pause, their pathetically fragile claws extended upward in defense, as if they could really protect themselves from my big, stomping feet. I tried not to bother them (or crush any accidentally), so I kept a safe distance.
Hello Mr. CrabFrom where I stood, a sweeping range of miniature sand mountains popped up on the beach like a million mosquito bites on brown sandy flesh. By the time I got my camera from the poolside, it was too late. The swarm had disappeared and only a few of the slowpokes remained, digging as fast as they could into the wet sand before the tide went out and the midday sun roasted them into delicious crustacean crisps.
There's A Crab Beneath Each Little MoundHightailing it to the jetty, we boarded our ferry for the long haul to Penang, culinary mecca and gastro paradise, where we would gorge for two days on the best food the country had to offer.
Bye bye Langkawi!Before that could happen, we still had about 3 hours on a high speed cruise boat. The on-ferry entertainment was an endless loop of videos from 80s German audio-abortion Modern Talking, deft performers of such hits as "Atlantis Is Calling (SOS For Love)", "Lonely Tears in Chinatown", "Cheri Cheri Lady" and the club smashing monster jam, "Geronimo's Cadillac." I was dumbfounded to learn that they are the biggest-selling German music act in history and, at one time, were huge in Iran, which might explain their appearance on this ferry to Penang, which was packed with Middle Eastern tourists.
Luckily for my sanity, it was a perfect day, so I spent the majority of the trip on the open-air top deck, where I could enjoy the breeze and sun. I would later pay dearly with some candy-apple red sunburns on my thighs and knees. The resulting burn looked like I was wearing pink leggings. The high price to escape the musical bonanza in the cabin below.
As Malaysia is a Muslim country, there are a buttload of Middle Eastern tourists, since it is an understandably Islam-friendly place with halal options everywhere, convenient prayer rooms in every establishment, toilet-side water hoses to wash off dirty bungs and poo-covered left hands, even cool arrows pasted onto ceilings in hotel rooms to show guests the direction of the Kaaba in Mecca. There are even a few mosques here and there. Without the potential discrimination that they might face in other countries not accustomed to seeing traditional Muslim folk, Malaysia is thus a no-brainer getaway.
Prayer Room
Western Toilet, Local Hose (left, on wall)
I used this to wash off my lower half after the beach. Ha!
Qibla (or, Kiblah/Kiblat), points to MeccaThat being said, there were many fully-shrouded women, head to toe in black, nothing but their gorgeous eyes showing. On the ferry, the wind gusts blew their garments up a few times and I caught some covert peeks. Naughty infidel! One girl sitting next to me with her boyfriend was actually quite pretty, as evidenced by the accidental face glimpse that I stole when the wind carried her scarf up like a kite. To watch them interact was another voyeuristic pleasure. Since public displays of affection are forbidden here, every now and then I'd catch a quick love pat, a brief holding of hands, even a delicate nuzzle against the back of the neck. Knowing that they could potentially be arrested for this, I was very touched to see these fleeting connections.
Cute coupleSince this was all very new to me, I now find myself fascinated with how modern Muslim females balance their culture and religion with the modern world. I mean, this one girl had on red hightop Converse, faded grey skinny jeans and a t-shirt, with a bunch of bracelets. Basically she dressed like any other stylish modern, urban woman, but just covered with a giant black bedsheet. How do they incorporate contemporary life with a seemingly outdated rulebook? Since talking to these ladies would result in my death and their inevitable execution by stoning, I need to get my hands on some enlightening literature. Suggestions, please.
As the sun began to set over the sea, we finally made port at the considerably more developed and bustling island of Penang. Time to feast.
Next Episode: Penang makan madness!
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