Malaysia
Earlier in this blog I mentioned India and its television advertisements begging people to come, right away, yesterday, to Incredible India. India wasn’t alone in trying to lure the tourists’ dollars, euros, and yen. Thailand joined in, flaunting its beaches with its massage parlors featuring the most ravishing, not to mention luscious, women. There’s Indonesia with its luscious beaches and thatched huts, eager to get a piece of the pie. And Malaysia. This is where we go after Thailand. Short flight, another country, let’s do it.
Our first night is be in a three star close to the airport. No luxuries, really, just a bed to keep you rested until it is time to move on. We look at the room service menu. I don’t know Malay food, neither does Liebi. Mee Mamak is what she orders. I order another dish and we end up swapping. Good, good stuff. Malay food is absolutely wonderful. They have the right combination of sugar and spices to keep the dish just right. I am already a fan.
The next day, early in the morning, finds us at the airport again, this time to catch an inland flight to Langkawi island, a resort island off the west coast. Axl again is mugged at the airport. Hard to ignore him. But in the hour or so leading up to the flight, he sings and dances, runs around the passengers’ lounge, not shy at all about his nervous bursts of energy. When we are on the plane, he is asleep next to me before the plane even lifts off. I have a coke and watch the water below us while Axl peacefully rests. He looks like an angel, all quiet and still. Bash is sleeping too. I have one boy on one side, one on another, and life is simply good. I can rest like this for a while. It’s very rare that you will find both boys asleep at the same time.
When we land, we hire a taxi to get us to the resort. The weather is muggy and hot, the AC is blasting everywhere. We drive past the countryside, a few rice fields here, skinny palms there, and bright green mountains where you'd expect to see King Kong pop out at any minute. The roads are paved quite well, and people more or less are civilized in traffic. Then a small town, we curve through a couple of parks and blocks loaded with duty free stores. But this isn’t Singapore, meaning while there is a certain development of the infrastructure in place, these people can’t afford to go all in here, simply because circumstances dictate it. We pass a mosque where I hear the call to prayer for the first time in what seems like ages. We arrive at the Westin resort near the southern tip of the island.
When we get to our rooms there is a sign on the balcony depicting the shape of a monkey that says, ’Do not feed’. Interesting. Where are these monkeys supposed to be coming from? No trees anywhere. And who would want to feed them? We would learn this lesson the hard way only a few days later. From our balcony, we have a view of the sea and a couple of islands scattered in the water. Yep, this is the place.
We stow away our things and inspect the compound of the hotel. Good pools, beyond that the beach, chic dining facilities, a gym, and a public playroom for kids. We gather the boys, buckle them into our trusted double stroller and take them into town. The sidewalks barely do it for our stroller, and there will be some lifting required. The first hundred meters or so outside of the Westin, we are entertained by a troop of monkeys and a very slow and deliberate iguana crossing the sidewalk. I guess they don’t need a zoo around here.
We stop at a shopping center, grateful for the artificial air. It is simply scorching out there. We pick up some items from a bakery, unwilling to rely on five star resorts and their inflated prices. I pick up a bottle of rum at a duty free. There is a McDonald’s, a KFC, and a Kenny Rogers. Uh-huh, a Kenny Rogers, where you hear Kenny Rogers’ tunes all day (’The Gambler’ is an unofficial anthem of many countries I know), order a low sodium meal, and just enjoy the atmosphere. Nice, that means less junk for the kids.
There’s not much time left in the day, so we return to the Hotel and head to the pool. When Axl sees the playground, though, it will ruin some of our plans in days to come.
Our first night is be in a three star close to the airport. No luxuries, really, just a bed to keep you rested until it is time to move on. We look at the room service menu. I don’t know Malay food, neither does Liebi. Mee Mamak is what she orders. I order another dish and we end up swapping. Good, good stuff. Malay food is absolutely wonderful. They have the right combination of sugar and spices to keep the dish just right. I am already a fan.
The next day, early in the morning, finds us at the airport again, this time to catch an inland flight to Langkawi island, a resort island off the west coast. Axl again is mugged at the airport. Hard to ignore him. But in the hour or so leading up to the flight, he sings and dances, runs around the passengers’ lounge, not shy at all about his nervous bursts of energy. When we are on the plane, he is asleep next to me before the plane even lifts off. I have a coke and watch the water below us while Axl peacefully rests. He looks like an angel, all quiet and still. Bash is sleeping too. I have one boy on one side, one on another, and life is simply good. I can rest like this for a while. It’s very rare that you will find both boys asleep at the same time.
When we land, we hire a taxi to get us to the resort. The weather is muggy and hot, the AC is blasting everywhere. We drive past the countryside, a few rice fields here, skinny palms there, and bright green mountains where you'd expect to see King Kong pop out at any minute. The roads are paved quite well, and people more or less are civilized in traffic. Then a small town, we curve through a couple of parks and blocks loaded with duty free stores. But this isn’t Singapore, meaning while there is a certain development of the infrastructure in place, these people can’t afford to go all in here, simply because circumstances dictate it. We pass a mosque where I hear the call to prayer for the first time in what seems like ages. We arrive at the Westin resort near the southern tip of the island.
When we get to our rooms there is a sign on the balcony depicting the shape of a monkey that says, ’Do not feed’. Interesting. Where are these monkeys supposed to be coming from? No trees anywhere. And who would want to feed them? We would learn this lesson the hard way only a few days later. From our balcony, we have a view of the sea and a couple of islands scattered in the water. Yep, this is the place.
We stow away our things and inspect the compound of the hotel. Good pools, beyond that the beach, chic dining facilities, a gym, and a public playroom for kids. We gather the boys, buckle them into our trusted double stroller and take them into town. The sidewalks barely do it for our stroller, and there will be some lifting required. The first hundred meters or so outside of the Westin, we are entertained by a troop of monkeys and a very slow and deliberate iguana crossing the sidewalk. I guess they don’t need a zoo around here.
We stop at a shopping center, grateful for the artificial air. It is simply scorching out there. We pick up some items from a bakery, unwilling to rely on five star resorts and their inflated prices. I pick up a bottle of rum at a duty free. There is a McDonald’s, a KFC, and a Kenny Rogers. Uh-huh, a Kenny Rogers, where you hear Kenny Rogers’ tunes all day (’The Gambler’ is an unofficial anthem of many countries I know), order a low sodium meal, and just enjoy the atmosphere. Nice, that means less junk for the kids.
There’s not much time left in the day, so we return to the Hotel and head to the pool. When Axl sees the playground, though, it will ruin some of our plans in days to come.
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