The highs and lows

As we make our twisty descent from the Cameron Highlands (which plateaus at 4,700 feet) towards Penang, we gain in temperature what we lose in altitude, rain and cloud. Our few days at the hill resort has been interesting. The Lakehouse, our mock-Tudor boutique hotel (built by Colonel Stanley Foster in the1960s) is a study in Malaysian British nostalgia, although why Malays should feel sentimental about the British colonialism that Foster was trying to preserve is difficult for someone like me to understand. But I suppose for the young Malays who visit, born decades after independence this is just a bit of novel tourism.

The hotel boasts of original squeaky floor boards, cream teas and historical artefacts, but although the emphasis is on its British heritage (from the 1960s?!), its a very Muslim establishment. In fact it’s the first time in my life I’ve been aware of not being Muslim. We’re the only people in the restaurant who ask for a wine list.

But it’s me, not the Malays, who notices our difference. The staff are very sweet and attentive and it seems nothing is too much trouble. Still a bit jet-lagged, we welcome their offers of comfort, the copious quantities of delicious tea and, guiltily, spend rather more time in the cosy surroundings than we would normally do. Truthfully, apart from a visit to a tea plantation (which involves a traffic jam) and a wander around Tanah Rata, there isn’t a great deal to do here. Besides, it does rain rather a lot. Torrentially. My attempt at a run on our first afternoon – along the road as there are no runnable paths through the rainforest – results in a lot of tooting of car horns and a very wet set of running kit.

Penang, by contrast, is all hot blue skies and sea. Our twelfth floor apartment in old George Town is ridiculously spacious for two of us and has floor to ceiling windows that take in the sea from Penang island across to the mainland. We welcome the space and the light after the quaint lead-light-windowed Lakehouse that seemed to be permanently in twilight. The land in front is being reclaimed from the sea. In fact, the entire east coast of Penang Island is reclaimed land, a project that began decades ago. After trekking out in the heat for supplies, one of our first priorities is to swim. To our delight, we discover that the infinity pool on the fifth floor is open to the air and the view. And we have it all to ourselves.

In the morning, we sleep late, swim, cook eggs on a tray in the oven (I know but the gas for the hob has run out – ‘OK, OK’, says Mai, the apartment block manager), take some exercise in the gym and wait for a new tank of gas, not necessarily in that order. We also make plans to visit the national park, Monkey beach and Penang Hill but all we manage this afternoon is a walk around the old town to orientate ourselves, before jumping back into the pool. 

This evening we are yet again the only Europeans eating locally, this time with a large group of Malay Chinese. As we’re in a very busy Chinese restaurant we’re more than happy with this demographic and the food is fresh and delicious. I love that no-one seems to notice that two Brits have joined their circle. In this sophisticated multi-ethnic society, one can be the odd one out without in the least feeling out of place.