Malays behaving majestically
Caroline Quentin heads to Malaysia and finds everything for a perfect holiday – bustling markets, wonderful wildlife... and even a British cream tea
AWHITE dot in the distance moved amid the rows of neatly clipped bushes that made the landscape look like it was swathed in green corduroy. The white dot was Shiva, wearing his waiter’s jacket and white cotton gloves, as he prepared our lunch. Soon we were reclining on brightly coloured cushions, sipping chilled drinks, and gazing out over the 600 acres of undulating hills that are the BOH tea plantation.
We’d toured the historic site, learned how to pick the young leaves, tried the world-class orange pekoe, and raided the gift shop. What better way to relax than with a private picnic surrounded by the tea plant, camellia sinesis, in the loveliest spot in the world.
We usually take our holidays in Cornwall – we like the old-fashioned joys of the British seaside, cream teas, and visits to rainy National Trust gardens, but with my daughter starting college and my son about to turn 14, my husband Sam and I were worried that this might be our last family holiday together. Next year my daughter may be dancing in Ibiza and my son will almost certainly be in hospital having his headphones surgically removed, so we decided to try somewhere different – Malaysia.
Despite being in the hectic heart of Kuala Lumpur, the Majestic Hotel retains a quiet gentility. The 1930s building still has a glass dining room full of orchids, and a bar called The Smoke House, reminiscent of agent leman’s club. Entirely dedicated to cigars, it reeks of old-world charm and, amazingly, not of tobacco. Silk smoking jackets are available on request! I fully expected to find Bertie Wooster loitering by the humidor.
WE DON’T smoke, so we grabbed a taxi to the night market instead. The charming concierge warned us that ‘anything that looks good is probably fake’. He was preaching to the converted. I’ve dated enough actors to know the score, but we got lucky and the kids were delighted with their Goochi rucksacks and Mike trainers.
The next day we exchanged the heat and humidity of the city for the cooler climes of the Cameron Highlands, named after Sir William Cameron. In 1885, he was commissioned to map the northern Malaysian territories – an area with the delightfully Carry On Up The Jungle name of the Titiwangsa Range.
The tea room at the Cameron Highlands Resort is named after Jim Thompson, an American businessman who revitalised the declining Thai silk trade during the 1950s and 1960s. A spy during the Second World War, Thompson was a politically active liberal, a millionaire, and knowledgeable collector of Asian art. On Easter Sunday in 1967 he went for a stroll in the jungle near the hotel and was never seen again. There are various theories regarding his disappearance. Was he abducted for a ransom? Killed by a tiger? Did he plan his own disappearance?
As we are a risk-averse family, we opted for a guided Jim Thompson jungle walk. I was worried the kids would whinge at the lack of wi-fi in the rainforest, but my concerns soon vanished. No computer game could
compare with the jungle’s candycoloured birds and trees we’d only ever seen while visiting National Trust gardens in Cornwall.
Our guide told us how to navigate the terrain, collect drinking water and find the edible banana palm. My daughter was sure she could easily survive a week in the rainforest, but my son said he couldn’t live a moment longer without a sandwich, so we headed back to the hotel. An excellent, very British afternoon tea, complete with scones and strawberry jam, is something the resort does brilliantly. And the staff are adorable.
Strawberries and tea grow equally well in the highland climate so I enjoyed them not only with my scones but also with my spa treatment – a tea bath followed by a strawberry massage, which was wonderfully relaxing and left my skin feeling soft.
The resort’s head chef, Mr Soon, is a genius. We loved his Malay dishes, particularly the beef rendang, but there is an equally good Western menu. We loved cooking our own supper too at a traditional steamboat din- ner. Fresh meat, fish, noodles and vegetables are plopped in to pans of boiling stock, bubble away in the centre of the table, and then served with little bowls of sauces. It’s a wonderfully sociable, healthy way to eat. Inspired by the excellent food at the Cameron Highlands Resort, we signed up for the ‘chef’s kitchen experience’ at our next destination. The 300-acre private island of Pangkor Laut is fringed with white sand. Luxurious suites are on stilts, either in the turquoise waters that surround the island or in the rainforest that’s home to macaque monkeys, oriental hornbills and monitor lizards. Out at sea, a dozen boats fishing for anchovies patrol the horizon at dusk. They look ancient and thrillingly odd in the pink twilight, their fiery sterns billowing out wood smoke from the boilers that cook the tiny silver fish as soon as they are caught. This ensures they are fresh when they reach the fish markets in Pangkor, where they are sorted by hand before being exported worldwide. We saw the markets as part of our kitchen experience – stalls featuring piles and piles of shiny squid and numerous other mysterious creatures of the deep that we’d never have spotted at Falmouth. Finally there was a hot wok cooking lesson that has equipped us to make the best hot and sour soup this side of Penang.
DESPITE loathing the idea of massage, Sam agreed to try the two-person Campur Campur Experience, a mixture of Malay and Thai therapies that uses hot pouches filled with lemongrass and pandan leaves. We were separated for the water therapies – a Chinese foot pounding, a Japanese cleansing ritual and a dip in the Rotenburu hot stone pool – that preceded the massage.
By now we were scrupulously clean, and with the help of our masseurs, we climbed on to the twin massage tables. I snuck a glance at Sam. I couldn’t tell at first if he was enjoying himself but I wasn’t left wondering for long because soon he was snoring like a bull elephant.
On our last evening in Malaysia, we chatted as we sat around a candlelit table on the white sand of Emerald Bay, watching the sun set and eating grilled lobster. Where else can you enjoy great curry and a good cream tea, wear a silk smoking jacket, watch monitor lizards and learn to love massage? As the stars came out, we all agreed we’d found a perfect holiday with something for everyone.
We shall miss Malaysia. It’s a jungle out there – a diverse, fascinating, thrilling jungle.