Half ten of another glorious morning, and I’m sitting out on the verandah killing an hour waiting for the cab to the ferry, doing a bit of blog housekeeping ready for the whole new chapter that will be Thailand. And it occurs to me that while these posts have provided unending fun and adventure, intrigue, glamour and thrills, there’s been bugger all by way of actual practical use to anyone. So…
Let’s see now. Shortly before we left Phu Quoc last year for the flight back to Blighty, we bumped into a couple of young honeymooners from Scotland, who were looking a bit dazed and bewildered, and were wondering where they were going to eat tonight. “Oh,” said V, “If you head up to the main drag – maybe minutes walk up the road – there’s quite a few really nice restaurants.” After they’d headed off, I said to V, “That’s true. But to be honest, I’m not sure there’s anything up there that they would recognise as ‘a nice restaurant’.” After a month in Vietnam, we’d grown accustomed to street food, and sitting on the kinds of mini-chairs you used to have to perch on at parents’ evening when the girls were seven. But straight outta Leith?
Well, Malaysia’s not that. Vietnam is the wild west, with a sort of frenetic anarchy about it. Malaysia, by contrast, feels very much like a modern, first world country. People travel on four wheels, not two. English is spoken pretty much everywhere you go. In the cities, you could be in Swindon – or on Wall Street. Everything is clean, everything is easy, everything works.
As such, Malaysia is a very easy introduction to life in this part of the world. Right from the get go, it’s easy to get around, easy to find somewhere to stay, somewhere to eat, some way to get from A to B. Google helps, of course. But unlike in Vietnam, if you run into any problems, there’s sure to be someone around to help you out.
And they’re more than happy to do so. As in Vietnam, we’ve found the people almost without exception delightful. (Exception: officialdom. More on that to follow.) Friendly and forgiving, always ready with directions or advice. More than once on this trip people have gone out of their way to lend a hand – and not in expectation of reward. Just because they’re nice. And, I think, because they’re happy to see strangers enjoying their lovely country.
As strapped backpackers, we were very happy to discover also that Malaysia is seriously cheap. A basic room for the night – clean, comfortable, with a bathroom and, more often than not, air-con that works properly and doesn’t rattle – is easy to find in most places for £10-15 a night. Food is also very cheap, as long as you keep away from touristy places. For breakfast this morning, we each had egg roti – very tasty, with a little side dish of mild curry sauce for dipping. I had coffee, Virle hot water. The bill was seven ringits. They’re six to the pound. Last night we pushed the boat out for dinner, with a truly gorgeous fish, grilled to perfection and covered with a slightly sweet, caramelised sauce, plus delicious beef noodles, rice, and green vegetables we couldn’t quite identify, but again, in a delicious sauce. With a lemon and sour plum juice for me and a lime and sour plum juice for V – both delicious and really refreshing – the total was 51 ringits – some way shy of a tenner. And you can get from anywhere to anywhere on a bus for next to nothing. George Town public buses will take you 20 k’s for 40p; a long distance five hour bus ride will be maybe a fiver. It’s cheap, proper cheap.
This, I should say, is all basic backpacker living. Hotels that are perfectly fine, but in no way fancy. Restaurants where locals eat, which may look a bit scruffy to the newcomer, though they’re actually fine, and the food very good or better. These places’ livelihoods come from feeding locals; they wouldn’t last long if they gave people the runs.
Which brings us to ‘things about Malaysia that frankly ain’t that great’. A good example: we arrive at this ferry terminal to head to Koh Lipe – where do we go? Who knows? No signs anywhere. Nor is this unusual. Signage in Malaysia, even in places like airports, ferry terminals and bus stations, where you might think it would be clear and obvious, is risible, if it exists at all. Fortunately there are always friendly people, happy to help. But still…
It’s not the most walking-friendly place either. Even in big cities, you can find yourself picking your way along a narrow, dusty path, no pavement, as traffic thunders past.
Worst of all, by far: officialdom. One of the legacies of Empire, one presumes, but boy have the Malays taken to it with relish. Stupid, pointless impediments to the most basic activities are everywhere, along with men blowing whistles at you if you step out of line, or if you don’t, or, well, because they have a whistle and they just love to blow it. Malaysia is the only country I’ve ever been to where you have to present a ticket to get out of an attraction. If one of your pet hates is people who just love pushing other people around, don’t forget your chill pills. Oh, and some of the buses have these really annoying curtains that won’t stay in one place. Life on the road: it’s hard.
Other things worth knowing? Um…well, get a sim when you arrive (they’re cheap as chips, much of a muchness, and on every street corner) and make sure you have all the basic apps: Google maps, Booking.com, Airb&b, Grab, RedBus. They just make life so much easier.
Beyond that, you really don’t need any more advice. Malaysia is as easy as it gets. And twice as enjoyable.
Thailand here we come!