Malaysia truly Asia

A short flight, a hefty ‘departure tax’ and a pot noodle later, we landed in Kuala Lumpur, all excited like.

The excitement was snuffed out the moment we laid eyes on the room we’d booked in the highly-recommended Wheeler’s guesthouse: a tiny windowless cell. Our first meal in Malaysia was in a gloomy KFC. Not a good start. But once we’d switched to a room with actual windows, we were won over by Wheelers’ unique charm.

It was run a jolly gang of gold-earringed, one-eyed or transvestited jolly-boys who kept tanks of giant, terrifying fish in reception; a family of sleepy kittens lived in the rooftop bar; and we were joined at breakfast by a monkey wearing a nappy.

The food got much, much better too. KL’s cuisine reflects its multi-Asian population – there’s Chinese, Malay and Indian restaurants crammed into every street. Malaysia is, as the cheesy advert says, truly Asia. After our first silly night we headed straight to Little India for a proper south Indian thali. Absolute heaven. We walked it off through the bazaars to the sound of Bollywood beats.

KL is the embodiment of that old cliché about old-meets-new: crumbly Chinese shopfronts, pastel-painted terraced houses and incense-clouded temples nestle beneath soaring skyscrapers and gleaming shopping malls. Ancient Tamil men in lunghis hobble alongside strutting Malay women in bright headscarves and stilettos. We explored it all on foot, when we could stand the heat, or by shiny air-conditioned monorail.

But mostly, we ate. We tore ourselves away from the Indian canteens to eat chilli-sodden fish, giant bowls of noodles and what would become a staple of our Malaysian diet: the amazing roti canai. Mmmm.