You hear a lot of stories in the news about tourists getting busted by cops abroad. Terrible things happen to them at the hands of corrupt policemen wielding guns and batons and anything else handy enough to beat them over the head with. These people end up spending years behind foreign bars, regretting the day that a local named 'Tareq' convinced them it was a nice, wholesome, cultural tradition to wedge unidentified wrapped objects into their orifices. It's because of stories like this that Imran has always drummed into me to remain calm and use my head in a sticky situation. Never panic, never let your emotions get the better of you, use common sense and most importantly, keep your pants on. Even in London, he becomes very irate with me when I get into squabbles with butch women in Lewisham who push in front of others in a queue or let their bratty kids run around kicking people's ankles while they gossip over a doner kebab in the middle of Boots. Admittedly, life IS better with peace, joy and everybody showing love and respect to all fellow beings. You can happily skip down the street with a tuneful ditty playing in your head. But occasionally people push my buttons and that dreadful trait of pride kicks in. It doesn't help when the chicks are about fifteen stones heavier than the average lady and a Muay Thai kick to the ribs would probably just bounce off and a Krav Maga arm lock would result in them sitting on me (while the kids keep kicking my ankles.) "You birds are just too irrational and you always open your traps before you think," Imran says to me. Someone give me another uni degree because I'm always getting a lecture.
Anyway, as usual, I completely digress. The point is, Imran tells me off for arguing with the wrong people; he says we should always walk away from any situation, no matter how much we think we can handle it. I'll concede it's a pretty good guide for a trouble-free life. So imagine my shock then, when in Malaysia, we got ourselves into a sticky situation with a local policeman who was threatening to arrest us and Mr 'You Women Don't Think Before You Speak' Lakha started getting lippy with him. And effectively telling the cop that England is 'better' than Malaysia and so he had no right to be having a go at us. And that his requests were unreasonably inconveniencing us and if he wanted us to comply then he should put himself out instead. "That's it," said the boy in blue. "You're in big trouble now." Holy moly! Forget the scary women in Lewisham; I nearly kicked my hubby in the ribs that night. And he says girls have big gobs. "Hello, kettle? This is Imran, the pot. You're black."
Luckily for all you avid followers of this blog, we lived to tell the tale without any batons in rectums or 'soap in the shower' experiences and you'll hear all about it later in this post.
There was one main reason we went to Malaysia and that was to EAT. Just lie back with our mouths wide open and our hands gesturing for more food to be poured in. This well-developed country has lots more to offer besides food but come on, we're talking about one of the greatest cuisines in the world and a city view from the top of a tower wasn't going to appeal to us as much as a noodle soup from a cart in a back alley. However, our Malaysian food adventures require a post all of their own so I'll save that for another day.
We went to Malaysia at one of the hottest times of the year. It was thirty five degrees minimum with 90%-plus humidity levels. (No, we're not entirely sure what that means either.) For about fifteen minutes each day there'd be a tropical downpour giving us the outdoor equivalent of a hot shower and warning us that the monsoon season would soon be hitting the country; for the other 23 hours and 45 minutes, we just had to sweat it out in the baking heat. We started out in the capital city of Kuala Lumpur before going to Melaka in the south-west of the country. After that we enjoyed the beaches on the scenic island of Langkawi and finally finished in the 'food capital' of Malaysia, Penang.
In KL we stayed in an area called Bukit Bintang. Although extremely touristy and home to loads of big shopping centres, the buzz and vibe here were great and the people were amazingly friendly. We were surprised to find dozens of Middle Eastern restaurants on practically every street but it's understandable there are many immigrants from that part of the world here as Malaysia is a predominantly Muslim country. However, unlike other Muslim countries we've visited, Malaysia is extremely easy-going. The women happily chatted to Imran without fear of judgement and even shook his hand (shocking!) In addition, we didn't suffer the usual raised eyebrows as a local looked at the beer in Imran's hand and my bare legs, commenting: "You're Muslim? Really?" What a pleasant change for us and good on the Malaysians for showing that a Muslim country can be relaxed and still run without everything descending into chaos.
On the disappointing side, however, we thought we'd get to see some grand mosques in KL, similar to the beautiful temples and monasteries we'd seen along our travels so far. But no such luck. Masjid Jamek is the biggest religious attraction in KL but it didn't rock our world in any way. Neither did the Little India and Chinatown areas which were - to put it bluntly - dives. KL Tower looked great lit up at night amongst the rest of the city's impressive skyline but the views from the actual tower were nothing special. We should've learned our lesson from being in Tokyo Tower in Japan that views from tourist towers are overrated and pretty bland. Much better to go to a bar or restaurant at the top of a tall hotel and get better views that way.
But hey, we're not 'city sights' kinda people, we know that. Peaceful temples and nature, yes, but aside from that, our liking of a city is based predominantly on our experience of the people, cultural traits, food and markets, atmosphere and entertainment. The first few were top-notch; the latter was always going to be a winner when we went to a karaoke bar after dinner one night. We thought we'd just go and have an hour's jolly, perhaps sing some cheesy romantic songs to one another seeing as it was just the two of us. If you know us at all well you'll imagine how things really panned out: we stayed there until 3am and spent the entire time rapping to gangster hip-hop. Just call us hot-tongued (or better yet, don't.) I reckon Fiddy would've been super proud of our version of Jeremiah's 'Put It Down On Me' (choooon!) because we rocked that one, accompanied by the customary bounce that goes so well with all rap songs. As Imran would say, 'We killed it, yeah.'
Mainland Malaysia is the country that probably invented fusion. I'm not just talking about the food - although that is the best example of fusion cuisine anywhere on the planet I reckon - but of the merging of cultures to create a unique identity. It's multi-cultural on a grand scale yet distinctly 'Malaysian.' There are three main groups: the Malays, the Chinese and the Indians. Respectively, this also means the main religions here are Islam, Bhuddism and Hinduism. Give me one example of anywhere else in the world, with such a large population and similar development, and percentage of followers of each faith within one population, that has these different belief systems living side by side in genuine peace. And these are just the main groups and faiths; there are more ethnic groups and several other religions that play a part in society here. Of course, there are small tensions that occasionally surface, but these are often to do with the government promoting Malay culture, language and interests ahead of the others causing resentments over policy rather than lack of integration by the people.
Proud of this harmony, KL boasts the creation of the pavilion crystal fountain which signifies this unity between the three main groups. Shucks, how sweet. That's what I call loving thy neighbour. They should be proud; the people here are really friendly and it's a testament to their tolerance and easy-going nature.
On the outskirts of KL in Kepong is the Forest Research Institute of Malaysia, or FRIM. It's a conservation project promoting sustainability in the way tropical forests are used and managed. This kind of thing is essential in Malaysia as it's had one of the highest global deforestation rates in current times, and people need to be made aware of the importance of forests and their biodiversity in our environment. FRIM has created over 600 hectares of tropical plantations at the research site. It's a beautiful place.
One of the highlights is a 'canopy walk': a bridge high above the trees from which you can look down right into the thick forest. Sadly, thanks to our passionate warbling in the karaoke bar the night before, we missed the last admission. We were not happy. It had been long-winded to get there and find the place, it was swelteringly hot and the security guards and local taxi drivers were an exception to the rule of nice people. We both became commuters at Bad Mood Central Station. Hey, sometimes even we forget the bigger picture and have to stop and take stock, so God came along to give us a helping hand. Imran was standing under our umbrella (bought for the rains but very handy for doing the whole Asian thing of avoiding the sun) and was suddenly illuminated with a heavenly glow. He boomed: "The sun's too bright and you can't walk on a bridge. Life must be terrible. Why oh why would you want to be out in nature in Malaysia in the middle of a seven-month travelling trip across two continents? Get over yourselves. Life is perfect." We changed our tune pretty fast after that. Now, I know the cynics out there might think the 'message from above' was our own logic explained by Imran, and the heavenly light was a bad camera setting conflicting with the sunlight. I beg to differ - I think Imran might have a voice of omniscience; he always seems to know best, after all. We did some lovely, scenic walking trails after that and hugged a few majestic trees, and returned to KL very chirpy. Chirpy enough to entertain ourselves with some indoor archery - super fun. It's nice to pretend the target is the shoulder of someone you dislike!
A two-hour bus ride out of KL takes you to Melaka City. We were excited to go there and experience the character of this 'old school' town so we turned onto the main street in the vibrant Chinatown, Jonker Street, and found... everything was closed. Shut. Not open for business. Melaka no en casa. "Why is this place a ghost town?" we asked a local. "It's Monday," she replied, as if that explained everything. "What happens on a Monday?" we probed.
"Nothing."
"Oh, ok, so what happens on a Tuesday?"
"Nothing." We could be here a long time.
A few more days of the week later and we asked the sixty-four thousand dollar question: "What happens on a weekend?"
Her face lit up. "Ooh, it's when all the tourists are here and all the locals are here, and there's a big market and lots of wonderful things. It's really great fun. You should come here on a Saturday."
That, my pals, is what you call a rookie tourist error. How selfish of people to not tell us exactly when to go to places and expect us to do more thorough research ourselves. Nevertheless, all was not lost as there were two shops open and it seemed like our guardian angels had once again intervened and made things perfect just for us: a gourmet chocolate shop and a cafe claiming to sell the greatest curry laksa (noodle broth) in Malaysia. We spent ages in the chocolate shop (it happens when I've chained myself to the counter and refuse to leave) chatting to the owner who wanted to feed us lots of super dark treats. Imran kept telling him no, leading me to question whether or not I'd married the right man. They get a bad rep, these feeders. What's so wrong with a feeder who conducts his business using only 85% cocoa? That sounds more like love than abuse to me. As for the laksa cafe, we were pleased to find it was indeed the nicest one we'd had so far. I like my laksa very spicy and this one had the chilli tempered down for tourist palates, but nevertheless, it was still the first one where every element had quite obviously been made fresh and from scratch. But enough about that - Imran just reminded me the food post is separate. Can't help myself. In summary, our time in Melaka was spent wandering around, eating laksa and chocolate, and getting foot massages in the shopping centres. Terrible waste of time, wasn't it?
Our next stop was Langkawi, the island where it was 30 degrees C at midnight. We weren't too sure how hot it was during the day but it did reinforce our vegetarian ideals by giving us an understanding of how roasting chickens feel. We stayed in the south west of the island, right on the beach and away from the busy hub. Our area was quaint with lots of shops, markets and restaurants, but with a very peaceful feel. The perfect place to relax. As luck would have it, our hotel was also right next door to an Indian restaurant which served some of the tastiest Indian food we've ever had, bar none.
After our shenanigans in Cambodia, we love a bit of motorbike riding. There's only one way to see the whole of Langkawi in style and speeding along the coastline with the wind in your hair is it. We bounded into the hire shop like happy Labradors, all revved up - boom boom! - for our day and expecting the process to be simple. However, the locals like to do things properly and according to the rule books - how inconsiderate. The young lass behind the counter told us to hire manual bikes but we were adamant we wanted automatics. She claimed automatics were very powerful for inexperienced riders and tourists had come in before, making the same demands, and then proceeded to crash into a wall the second they touched the accelerator. Picture the scene: this young girl, trying to do her job correctly, worried about careless Brits who aren't admitting to having had very little experience but who aren't saying anything knowledgeable on the subject to fill her with confidence to the contrary, and Imran, in his er... 'energetic' manner, shouting at her with the argument: "We rode in the jungles of Cambodia so we can ride anywhere!" She put up a good fight but as anyone who is on the receiving end of Imran's displeasure knows, it's time to back off when he puts up such a valid argument.
We each took a form and looked at the questions. 'Is your driving licence valid for motorbikes?' We turned to one another with raised eyebrows. We weren't sure. Best to err on the side of optimism. Tick - yes! 'Do you have riding experience?' You didn't hear what Imran said? Tick - yes! 'Do you understand it is illegal to knowingly give any misinformation on this form and doing so will render your insurance invalid in the event of an emergency?' We figured it's not deliberate misinformation if you're simply not sure. Tick - yes! Fantastic; now get us on those bikes! For some incomprehensible reason the girl behind the counter looked quite relieved to see the back of us.
As expected, we were fine. We spent the whole day cruising around the entire island, from the bustling streets of Kuah town to serene roads alongside beaches and forests. We stopped for lunch at a shack hidden away down a silent road in the north east of the island, only to be greeted unexpectedly with a stunning, secluded beach called Tanjung Rhu. The usual stuff: soft white sands, shimmering sapphire sea, emerald green trees... we've seen it all before but it still takes our breath away every single time. Never take nature and its infinite beauty for granted, that's our motto. In Western Langkawi we took a ride on the cable cars to view this lovely island from up high. What a fabulous, fun day.
That evening, Imran and I went for dinner at a cliff-top restaurant that overlooked ocean waves crashing against the rocks. We'd only taken Imran's bike out that night so after our meal I sat on the back while he cruised us down the local streets. There was chatter and life all around as the people gathered at the markets; we could smell different aromas as we passed all the many restaurants, there was a fresh sea breeze taking the edge off the heat and we felt damn good. This is what life's all about, I thought. Enjoying my surroundings with my arms wrapped around the love of my life and feeling superbly content and at peace. Appreciate every second while it lasts.
Now, when I said 'while it lasts', I was thinking of our trip as a whole. At a push, I could have meant for the duration of our time in Langkawi. Little did I know that it would all come to complete halt a few minutes later.
We were approaching our hotel when we noticed drivers being stopped by police. Imran slowed down, no doubt hoping to be permitted to drive the measly fifty metres past them to where our hotel entrance was. A baton held out in our way soon killed that idea.
"Licence, please," said the slightly plump cop. Despite the 'please' it was definitely an order and not a request so I didn't think this was a good time to joke that policemen obviously ate doughnuts here, too. It occurred to us there was a slim chance our UK licences weren't valid for bike riding so, hesitantly, Imran pulled it out... His licence, I mean - wash your mind out with soap, you filthy animal! It seemed as if the cop was having trouble deciphering the piece of pink plastic. Great, so we could just go then? Of course not.
"Passport." Damn, not even a 'please' this time. Again, I bit my lip thinking that singing, "say pretty please with a cherry on top first!" would neither be wise nor well received. Here's the thing: I THOUGHT that. I was THINKING. I was being smart about what was and wasn't appropriate in that situation, just like Imran's always telling me to do. Does the man listen to his own advice? I was about to find out.
"My passport?" cried Imran incredulously. "What do you want that for? I ain't giving you my passport! Show me the law that says I should carry my passport around with me everywhere!"
Oh.
That certainly got the policeman's attention and he locked his gaze squarely on Imran's face. Time seemed to stand still. Slowly he asked, "What did you say?" His voice was deep, low, authoritative and just plain poo-your-pants-worthy. Now was the time for Imran to reply: "I said my passport's in my room but our hotel is right there and my wife will run and get it, and you're amazing and I bow down to your power, authority and infinite wisdom. Would you like me to buy you some doughnuts?" But did he say that? You all know the answer to that one.
"I said I don't have it 'cause nobody told me I have to have it on me all the time! Who would do something stupid like that for? That ain't the law. I don't know how you do things in Malaysia but in MY country, in England, a driving licence is good enough ID. You don't even need it! If you want to see my passport then YOU come to my hotel and get it."
I was sweating by now. Was it the humidity? Nope, definitely cold sweats. Probably the kind everyone gets when they realise they're about to be given a tin can and a stripy outfit. We were about to feel the long, chubby arm of the law. The policeman exploded.
"Right, that's it, I can CATCH you now!" he bellowed. Sadly he wasn't suggesting a fun, night time game of Tag but was threatening to arrest us. "You think you can argue with me and give me this nonsense and not do whatever I tell you? I can CATCH you!" He yelled, he fumed, he had smoke coming out of his ears, he made all sorts of threats and yet Imran continued to get arsey with him. I know I should've jumped in sooner but I was simply so dumbfounded I couldn't lift my jaw off the ground.
Just as the policeman reached into his pocket - for handcuffs? a gun? Krispy Kremes? - I threw myself between the boys. Time to let the better person handle this: a woman.
"Officer, sir, your majesty, I am so, so sorry." Cue nervous laughter. "This is just a big misunderstanding! My, you look like you work out a lot and - ooh - that definitely feels like a tricep and - oh! - no need to look so angry; I'll just put my hand back down by my side now. Sir, please, my husband just doesn't understand what you're saying." I was tempted to say: "Il est en peu retarde," but Imran has seen that episode of Friends and would know exactly what I meant. Instead, I beamed at the man with our lives in his hands and said, "If you'd like me to get our passports for you, I will. I'll go right now." I was contemplating making a dash for it and not coming back; I'd wait in the safe haven of the Caribbean for Imran to serve his sentence. "But I promise that from now on we'll carry them everywhere with us. We'll carry copies too and give you our first born and do anything else you've told us to because you're ABSOLUTELY right about everything and God is so proud that you're one of his greatest creations. I'm SO sorry."
Wow, I can grovel really well. The policeman thought so too because his expression began to soften. I glanced over at Imran and gave him a look that quite clearly said: 'You best grovel with me. In fact, if you have to pay a huge bribe or bend over for the whole of tonight to get us out of this mess then you're bloody well doing it.' He didn't look happy at all at the prospect of bending over; he's not flexible enough to touch his toes.
Luckily, that LSE education finally kicked in and he realised what he had to do. "Ohhhh, you mean we should carry our passports with us? I get it now! I just didn't understand you before. I thought you were saying we should carry our passports with us not carry our passports with us!" (Answers on a postcard if you understand the logic behind that one.) "That makes perfect sense, thank you, thank you so much for telling us this. You are most wise and awesome."
You know how they say a man will agree to anything as long as he's complimented? Well, this cop sure showed that to be true. He began to mellow even further and looked like he was pondering his next move. Eventually he let us go, but ordered us to leave Langkawi the following day. "Of course," we agreed hastily. "Whatever you say." We didn't tell him we had already booked our ferry out of there the next day anyway - let the man stay on his little power trip. Without even a bribe or any more grovelling, we were permitted to leave and boy, did we get the hell away from him as quickly as possible! I spent the whole night laughing so hard I was in tears while Imran looked genuinely perplexed and kept saying, "What the hell was I ON?!"
You would think that the next morning we'd be responsible enough to take the bikes straight back to the hire shop and not ride around the island any more, right? You thought wrong, dude. There is one priority we have above all others: we just had to risk being caught again in order to ride to the juice/smoothie bar in town for breakfast. Hey, if we're going to jail we're gonna make sure we go in healthy - it's the only way you can plot an escape! Luckily, it was too early in the morning for the policemen who were probably still comatose in their dough and sugar stupors, so everything turned out ok. No thanks to Imran, of course! And with that, we boarded the ferry and set off for Penang.
It's not easy to talk about Penang if you don't mention food. It's what Penang's all about. I can tell you that the coastline is spectacular, and as I sat in the back of a cab on my way to the other side of the island for a private cooking class in the jungle valley, I was in awe of the gorgeous scenery as we drove up the hills overlooking the ocean.
Most of Penang is very busy and bustling, however. Georgetown is noisy, chaotic and loud, but not necessarily in a bad way. Kek Lok Si temple is surrounded by mountains and lush green trees; it's the largest Buddhist temple in south east Asia apparently. It's quite high up so we had to climb the many steps through the indoor market to get to the lower sections of this large temple, and then take an incline lift to the top level. Here sat an enormous statue of Kuan Yin, the Goddess of Mercy; seriously massive. There are views over a large part of the city here too but to be perfectly honest, they're not really views worth getting excited about. The tops of many grey, concrete buildings didn't do it for us. Kek Lok Si itself though, is grand. The influence is Chinese and the multitude of bright colours reflect this. It was a surprise to see a lot of beggars inside the temple grounds; but then, it had been a surprise to see more beggars in KL and Penang as a whole than we expected anyway. Inside one of the sacred buildings of Kek Lok Si was a souvenir stall which I found a bit tacky, but hey, the entire complex was heavily commercialised so you certainly can't accuse the people of not being entrepreneurial!
As in Japan, there were 'wishes' for sale here too, this time in the form of ribbons tied to a wonderfully colorful 'ribbon tree.' There was a huge variety to choose from, including wealth, acknowldegement, good fertility and, bizarrely, good singing voice. Perhaps that's the one I should have chosen but I'm afraid you'll have to put up with my screeching cat impersonation for a bit longer. Imran and I chose the wishes that are most important to us for long-term happiness: bodily health, world peace and being together forever. We tied the last one to the tree together. All together now: puke!! How uncharactistically romantic of us.
And now, because I can't talk about the food, there's little else to say about Malaysia. It was a great place and we'd definitely go there again, for the lovely people more than anything. There's just so much fun to be had here if you know where to look, and to find it all you have to do is go out amongst the locals and chat. By this point, we were so content with life that we were loving every single place we went to regardless but we can't take anything away from the chirpy people who were incredibly welcoming. We couldn't believe it; the time had come for us to go to the last country of our trip. How could the months have passed so quickly? As I checked our schedule to see where we were off to next, I figured that being in our final country meant there were far less opportunities for Imran to get himself into any trouble or shenanigans. So, where were we headed? Bangkok.
Uh-oh.
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