Busking Barefoot

A Break of Cat Naps

2012-01-23T16:35:00.002+08:00

“And then here’s Angel,” chirped Amir when I immediately knew the weekend was going to be the perfect gift for my husband. Or make that the perfect time to convince him he was having the best birthday of his life.

I was pretty sure of the trouble I was in two weeks earlier, with me still sweating over the ideal birthday gift for Asrif. Things couldn’t get harder than planning a surprise for the person whom you live under the same roof with, could it? I listed some of his favourite things on a paper to get things going. So there was “football”, but what do I know of it other than the idea of men screaming at two in the morning? (Not complaining. I admire your passion, I do.) And then there was “music”. And as much as I loved music myself, looking for a music-related gift didn’t seem like such a bright thing to do considering that one time I couldn’t even differentiate between a ukulele and a toy guitar. That, plus the only concert tickets available that time around were in Google’s words, “Rain: Live in Sepang” and “Justin Bieber Live in Kuala Lumpur”.

As I spent the entire week secretly writing love letters and poems in hope that they would compensate for the birthday gift I had failed to find, I realized I was doing exactly what we both loved doing – writing. And at the time when we were both busy scratching our heads over ideas to name this little travel blog of ours, which I reckoned was the result of our undying, deep passion for traveling, I soon had a light bulb moment. Some Google clicks here and there, several phone calls harassing Asrif’s mates to not invite him anywhere on his birthday weekend, a few skipped heartbeats in anticipation of the best Air Asia deal I might have scored, some writing pads, a pen, and voila!

We were off on a travel writing assignment I had made up for the then unnamed travel blog.

Choosing an island was a given. The beach bums in us were often itching for the next revelation on the tan we never quite needed. I chose Langkawi to surprise Asrif, but not exactly for the beach this time around. Hidden in Langkawi as I earlier discovered from a lucky Google click was a place of accommodation so full of character, it didn’t need bellboys in uniforms to blindly nod at you upon entering. And why would you need them when you’ve got a good-looking Angel to purr at you?

Bon Ton, which means “simple yet stylish” in French, is made up of only eight villas set up beautifully on a garden overlooking some scenic mountain ranges and tranquil lotus-filled wetlands. And I kid you not on the tranquility bit. It sure is guaranteed at almost any given time, not only for the resort's setting by the trees and the mountains; but for the way you’d have only a maximum of eight families holidaying at any one time. The place is perfect if you’re not into crowds of tourists or places where everyone else is going.

Being just ten minutes away from the airport, we were quickly woken up from our groggy selves whom trudged out of that deep slumber we earlier had on Air Asia’s comfortable seats. I was intrigued enough when I read the description of the resort on its website the week before. And when I came upon reviews explaining how the Bon Ton team had been highly promoting animal rights and also the love of arts, I had no further questions; I had to get a room there! And soon as we finally set foot on the secluded resort, I knew I could pass off as one of those kids who went on tour at Willy Wonka’s factory. I was agog and simply in love with the place.

Australian owner Narelle McMurtrie did a great job creating a unique, warm ambience of an “escape” true to its name – simple yet stylish. The eight villas on the garden were refurbished from actual antique, traditional Malay kampung wooden houses of Kedah and converted into stylish villas decorated not lavishly, but artistically. Now what was interesting was the passion of Narelle and her team at improving the lives of unwanted animals that they also run the Langkawi Island Animal Clinic seconds away from the resort. What was even more interesting was the fact that the resort itself was somewhat a cat sanctuary!

We were warmly welcomed by Amir, a good-humoured gentleman who made us feel at home quite immediately (except that I was of course, still in Willy Wonka’s factory). With a refreshing welcome drink of minty coconut punch, we had our minty breaths taken away by the view of the mountains and the serenity that surrounded the wooden chairs of the open-aired Nam Restaurant. Seated comfortably with the cool wind blowing against our unkempt hair, Amir began explaining and introducing us to the beauty that was Bon Ton. Asrif and him chatted away, sounding like they’ve known each other for the past ten years. But noticing my giddiness, Amir soon knew he had to introduce me to the (not so) little fellow I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off.

“This shall be Snowy,” went Amir, as I soon got myself a cat who covered half of my body and a smile that covered half of my face.

And then there was Hitler, Angel, Chicken Thief, Mr. Talkative, and the list went on. Each cat had a story of its own; most of them either once neglected, abused or stray from around the island. But they were all saved under the Langkawi Animal Shelter and Sanctuary (LASSie) Foundation, and were then able to call Bon Ton their home. It was barely fifteen minutes since we arrived at the resort, but I was already a giddy teenage girl. Its beauty was one, but having lovable cats at each sunlit corner? I was over the moon! Fret not though if you’re not a fan of cats, as they’d be minding their own businesses so long as you do not try to play Dr Dolittle on them.

My giddiness certainly did not end there as we found out while approaching the villa I had booked, Yellow Orchid. We were placing our flip flops on the staircase leading to the wooden cottage, and then there he was, the charming Skippy, whom Amir joked as the owner of the house. What a fun way to begin our getaway, knowing that we rented our place from a handsome young cat!

Our adventure continued, as we then entered a dream little cottage filled with fun, summery colours. Its walls were decorated with cheerful paintings of bright coloured animals, its tables with colourful weaved baskets and its bed with yet more psychadelic, fun-coloured cushions. As we happily explored our little cottage, we then decided to check out what hid behind the locked wooden door at the back. And there, in front of our eyes, was a secluded open-aired wooden bathroom with tall, magnificent trees over it. By then, I was pretty sure that none of everything that day was real. In case you should know, being the nature lover and the dreamer that I am, I had always dreamt to have a cooling shower in a sunlit jungle among beautiful trees, somewhat like a hippy, or Jane, as in Tarzan’s Jane, I don’t know.

When I realized that I had spent the entire afternoon speaking in enough hyperboles any afternoon could need, and just in that cottage alone, we were then all set to begin our holiday adventure – to do nothing.

Asrif and I had our favourite books as we headed to the main garden where the pool was situated. Surrounded by coconut trees and comfortable sun decks, overlooking the sun setting behind a range of mountains; the main garden sure was the place to be if you’re after nature and serenity. Or as we often call it nowadays; zen. With such amount of peacefulness, you would want to strike a yoga pose or two quite immediately. (Which of course, you could. The resort would even provide you with yoga mats!) Nobody at the time was swimming as I reckoned we were all only after the peace to cater for our lazy selves. Each and every one of us at the garden was lying down around the pool with either a book, or some reasonably deep snores.

And for our case, some rumbling tummies to accompany the books we brought. As if understanding our longing for food, perfectly by the pool was an open-aired dining corner on wooden decks facing the breezy wetlands. We settled down there, comfortably losing ourselves in the interesting East-meets-West selection in Nam Restaurant’s menu. Lunch for our Malay appetite was Nyonya Style Fried Rice with Chicken Satay, Chilli Prawns, Beef Rendang, Acar, Omelette, Green Vegetables and Crackers. As fancy as the dish sounded and tasted, I had to admit that it was a little pricey. But with its generous serving, its creative presentation on antique wares and the breathtakingly beautiful ambience the place offered, we were as happy as a snoring Snowy.

Perfectly stuffed, we thought we could use a little exercise. As much as we’d love to pull off what we thought might be yoga poses, we believed it was best not to scare the other guests away. With a pace slower than the traffic back in Kuala Lumpur, we then wandered around the garden brimmed with fascination over the beauty of the resort. The seven other villas there were known as Blue Ginger, Black Coral, White Frangipani, Palm, Laguna, Silk and Cahaya; all unique in their own beautifully intricate designs from the ancient Malay kampung style. The wooden houses were all about a hundred years old, being formerly fisherman’s houses or Malay Noblemen’s houses. Cahaya, the largest villa in Bon Ton, was once a head of the village residence, having its own spacious living room. It was interesting seeing each villa having its own identity; with their architecture, designs and carvings from the olden days still preserved, while also having some modern touches added artistically here and there in catchy colours.

Guided by Skippy and Angel, we then walked down the main garden towards the other end finding yet another attractive little cottage. A refurbished old Chinese shop this time, the wooden hut was named the Chin Chin Lounge Bar. Again, I began speaking in hyperboles, and just in that hut alone. It was decorated just the way I had always imagined of my dream cottage. The wooden furniture, the exotic cushions, the colourful fabrics and the smell of old books from the bookshelf.

Unlike most of our previous trips, Asrif did not bring his own guitar this time around in hope to travel light on air. But what do we know, leaning perfectly against a wooden cabinet in the Chin Chin Lounge Bar was an acoustic guitar waiting for Asrif to do his thing, I believed. As nonchalantly as possible, we had the best time of our lives just lying down and chilling at the balcony of Chin Chin facing the wetlands. We sang, read, talked to the cats and simply enjoyed the wind until the skies began to get dark.

Night came and we were both freshened up from an aromatic wood rice bran oil soap provided in the cottage’s open-aired bathroom I so loved. The whole place had such casual and friendly vibes that when dinner time came, it felt as if we were personally invited for a warm dinner get-together at a relative’s place. The dinner menu at Nam Restaurant was even more varied and fancier that the amount of time we took deciding our dish was fairly longer than the time I took in the shower. We finally went for the Fillet of Snapper with Mashed Potatoes, Coriander Salad & Tomato Coconut Sauce. And an amazing dish it was! With a candle between us, a constellation of stars in the night sky and some cats walking around the garden whom we were able to talk to; we were as happy as wanting to act out that romantic dinner scene from Lady and the Tramp.

We did not end up at Nam Restaurant again for a buffet of breakfast the next morning. Not because we did not want to and not because we woke up in the afternoon (which was actually quite possible by the way, considering how comfortable and quiet the place was). Bon Ton was clever enough to create a unique breakfast experience by offering continental breakfast, whereby a set of light breakfast was placed in the fridge of our cottage the night before. So in the morning, I was happily playing pretend, dancing about the cottage, singing to the birds and the cats while preparing breakfast for the husband and myself. With some fluffy croissants, toasted breads, jam and butter, cakes and yoghurts, I was all smiles setting up our humble breakfast at the balcony with Asrif strumming the guitar and Angel looking ahead.

It was the second afternoon when we just only realized that we did not hit the beach throughout. And that’s how amazing Bon Ton was for the lazy, carefree souls in us – we could wander around the place barefooted aimlessly with our books and the borrowed guitar, marveling at nature’s beauty without realizing the time.

The main beach of Pantai Cenang would be about five minutes driving distance away. Quite alright a distance to walk but safer to drive to, as you’d have to go through quite some quiet, sandy tracks. As the both of us were only aiming to do nothing around Bon Ton that weekend, we had no rented cars whatsoever to get to the beach. But of course, help was at hand. Bon Ton offers beach drop-off services to guests without transport. We spent the lovely afternoon at the sunny beach getting yet more food and some tan we did not need.

Our flight back to the city was not until later that night, thankfully. We sure could not have enough hours of lazing around a field of grass singing with a clowder of cats. Understanding this, the kind Amir of Bon Ton did not hesitate to let us check out much later. As there was another guest coming in to Yellow Orchid, the warm team of Bon Ton had let us put our bags and settle down in another villa before leaving for the airport.

When we thought we had seen enough beauty around the resort, we were proven wrong as we placed our bags in a villa at Temple Tree, a more recent extension of Bon Ton. With the same concept, Temple Tree had vibes just as warm and was made up of several beautiful antique buildings. It portrayed a more eclectic mix of cultures though as the houses were not only of Malay, but also of Chinese, Indian and Eurasian origin.

We spent our final precious hours at the resort on the Sunset Deck of Bon Ton, marveled by the selection of Tapas offered on the menu. Tapas are served in Bon Ton each day between 5pm to 7pm, and we did not miss out the fun as we ordered the Tangy Tuna on Bruschetta with Melted Cheddar. We could not ask for a better ending, having Hitler and Snowy by our sides waiting to steal the tuna from our plate of Bruschetta, and the sun setting gracefully behind the mountains ahead of us.

Bon Ton is a hidden gem indeed. A place to be if you’re after a unique laid back experience, or if you’re a lover of nature, animals, tranquility and the arts. And if anything else, it certainly is the place to be if you’re after the thrill of going to places known to everyone else as “Where?”

More photos here.
Bon Ton's Official Website.

Itchy Islands

2011-11-08T00:26:00.003+08:00

It was as timely as a Britney Spears comeback.

Work has been painful for us. I used to joke that I have a work-life balance problem -- it's heavier on the life side. Not anymore. I've been missing out on my daily workout routine and Azalia had missed two episodes of Glee already. We were trapped in the air-conditioned solitary confinement that is the office, devoid of any sunlight and contaminated by radiation from the computer screen.

So when Azalia told me that she had some work to do in Kota Kinabalu (from hereon referred to as -- that's right -- KK) on a Monday, I wasted no time booking a flight for us to spend the weekend there. We simply had to run away from KL and its soul-crushing noise.

A little too excited I was on the Firefly website that my anxiety got the better of me. I forgot to remove the extra services they've included by default and could have paid cheaper. No wonder they were kind enough to give seat options, in-flight meals and luggage allowance. I guess when things seem too good to be true, they most likely are. Especially on an RM80 flight. A pleasant journey, still. Keep it up Firefly. Gotta catch up with Uncle Tony.

It's been more than a year since I was last in KK. Two years back, I was there with The Godbros (yes that's how we identify ourselves) for what critics aptly called "The Saddest Sausage Fest Ever". But we had fun. It was then that we fell in love with KK. Everything was there... lush green forests, majestic mountains, serene islands, great seafood, and Filipino bands who could play songs of the Black Eyed Peas better than the Black Eyed Peas.

Then again, who couldn't?

We touched down KK International Airport at about 10am. Since we only had less than 48 hours, we headed straight to Jesselton Point after checking into the hotel. Jesselton Point is where you take speedboats to island-hop at the Tunku Abdul Rahman Marine Park, one of my all-time favorite places in the country (alongside Batang Berjuntai -- though I've never been there).

The park is made up of five islands: Manukan, Sapi, Gaya, Mamutik and Sulug. Each about 15 to 20 minutes boat ride from the jetty. So what we have here are actually five islands, only a stone's throw away from downtown KK. Five clean and practically undeveloped islands so close to the city, locals say that if you're at the islands at night, you can hear Careless Whisper pumping from one of the clubs in the state capital.

And because the islands are nearby, you don't have to starve to buy the ticket to get there. The system isn't that straightforward though.

The standard charge for you to get from the jetty to one of the islands is RM17 round trip. For you to get from one island to the other, it will cost an additional RM10. There is then a one time tariff fee of RM7 that you'll have to pay at the jetty before departing. Lastly, is the Environmental Conservation Fee of RM3 for Malaysians and RM10 per day for foreigners. There is also an RM2 Breathing Fee for the oxygen you consume there. Okay I made that one up but still, quite a mouthful even for an MLM agent. In a nutshell, it costs less than RM50 if you're hopping to three islands.

Reps from the dozen or so boat companies will mildly mob you as you enter the ticketing area. But since the rates are standard, you don't have to worry about being cheated. Unless they say you're getting to the islands on Cruise Ship (that's the name of their bamboo raft).

The first and last boat out is at 730am and 430pm respectively. The last boat back to the jetty is at 5pm so unless you plan to camp or get yourself lost, make sure you've allocated ample time at each island before 5pm. People usually arrange the duration of their stay with the boat drivers. They're very friendly and some of them speak better English than most of our politicians.

We went to Manukan and Mamutik, two of the larger islands, on the first day. Azalia has been in her snorkeling gear even before we boarded the boat so I had to calm her down when she saw the waters. It was crystal clear and you could see groups of fishes swimming between each other in harmony. A bit like KL traffic, if the cars were driven by the fishes instead of curse-spewing humans.

It came as a bit of a surprise to me really, witnessing such a sight. The last time I was there the waves were quite strong, causing -- if my Oceanology serves me right -- the fishes to be shy. So all I could see when I snorkeled back then were my friends' hairy legs. That said, if you plan to visit the islands, avoid the monsoon season or come with friends with less hair on their legs.

Azalia had the time of her life swimming with the fishes she called herself the Little Mermaid after being underwater longer than I could ever be. I thought it was cool to play along but calling myself "the Big Merman" sounded wrong after a while. Plus I didn't snorkel much anyway. I thought the shallow shoreline waters were a bit too elementary for my liking as a seasoned diver. That and I had to look after her handbag.

To cover all the islands in one day was a bit of a tall order. It was already 2pm when we arrived anyway and time moves too fast when you're having fun. The Sun was ready to retire for the day as boats began to surround the jetty while the drivers run around the island looking for their lost Japanese tourists. Azalia drags herself ashore after reluctantly leaving her party under the sea begging, I mean, demanding us to return again the next day. "Okay." I said, her handbag still on my shoulder.

It wasn't easy leaving Jesselton Point with the Sun gracefully setting itself into the horizon. It was a sight too precious to be left behind. We leaned on our backs against the wooden chairs, stretching our legs by the shops only starting their business at dusk; our frozen gelato on the table slowly melting. There wasn't much to do but listen to the sound of kids giggling between the sea breeze with the smell of smoked fish filling the air. We could have just slept into the silence of the night right there on the creaking planks of the jetty's floor. Alas, KK is a vibrant city. We made our way at the first beat of Ace of Base blasting out of a pub nearby.

We began the next day refreshed, not knowing what time we fell asleep the night before, knowing we had an awesome day nonetheless. Already pumped up for another day in the sea, Azalia dragged me straight into the ocean seconds after breakfast. Wait, it was during breakfast actually. My omelette at the Egg Station wasn't even ready yet when we hopped into the first cab to Jesselton Point.

It was time to explore Sapi and Sulug, two of the more low profile islands among the four. They're like the bassist and that other guitarist in Foo Fighters. They're there, but nobody really pays attention. They're still pretty good, though.

Sapi and Sulug are relatively smaller than Manukan and Mamutik. The other island Gaya is of a considerable size as well but it homes the Gayana Eco Resort so there's a bunch of resort-esque things going on there. Good enough reason to avoid it unless you want an island offering hotel quality toilets for free otherwise exclusive only for their guests.

So there we were, beginning our second day much earlier on a perfectly hot sunny day. Azalia had already transformed into one of the many safety jackets floating on the waters before I could settle myself seaside. It would be our final rendezvous with the beach for a while. The thought of work looming the day after drove us to really make the most of our time there. For that few hours at least, all we wanted to do was nothing.

The sight of foreigners smearing sun tan lotion all over their bodies and laying on the ground inspired me to do the same. Considering my natural tan could already make Snooki look like Conan O'Brien, I retired to a shadier area under a tree to immerse myself, and be one with the sand. The spirit of a true beach bum was within me. Throwing my towel away, there I was rolling on the beach covering every inch of my (upper) body with gorgeous tiny grains of crystalline sand. It was not a sight pretty to the eye.

"Mana?! Mana?!"

The loud voices of the boat drivers broke the silence of my sleep and brought me back from slumber. They're back at the jetty with the roar of their diesel powered motors filling the air. "Mana?! Mana?!" they shouted again, still looking for their lost Japanese tourists. It's the routine there, I guess.

It was time to leave and I was recharged. I had a good few hours stranding myself on the sands and snoring to the ire of the island's inhabitants. Azalia, on the other hand, was on the verge of tearing up as she bid farewell to her underwater friends. I could only witness the heartbreaking sight and offer my sympathy and advice, "Don't worry. You can always watch Spongebob on TV."

We left the islands full of hesitancy. The lack of enthusiasm was clear on our faces as we let ourselves free to the blowing wind on the boat going at full speed for no reason. Such is the feeling of a city dweller. Forlorn at the thought of leaving serenity to return to the endless cycle of hours surrendered to the hands of the corporate world.

I flew home two days earlier as Azalia had some work to do -- the actual reason she was there. I had to rush out of town to the airport after slowly taking all the time in the world to pack up. I left KK not without a heavy heart. There was no time for me to even bring any souvenir back home.

Or so I thought.

As I boarded the plane, a burning sensation began to creep up my legs. "Stupid fire ants!" at first I thought, before realizing that an aircraft is not their natural habitat. It must have been the beach bugs from when I was rolling on the sands earlier.

I could feel the itch spreading to the rest of my body. Panicked, and slightly concerned about how I would look to other passengers, I tried to remain calm. I told myself that it was all a figment of my imagination; a monumental task when you're covered in rash the size of a small country. I made a total of seven visits to the lavatory throughout the 3 hour flight for "scratch relief".

After two days of medication and a friendly antihistamine injection to my rear end, I learned a valuable lesson: If you need to roll shirtless on the beach, bring your grandpa's scratching stick so that you could scratch easily when you're on the plane later and not make seven visits to the lavatory.

More photos here.

Beng Naki Kumi!

2011-10-16T20:20:00.003+08:00

Remember the time when you used to spend all day playing outside and not even the hot midday sun could stop you?

I do.

It was a time of youthful exuberance, where my energy seemed limitless. I’d run around, fall down, roll on dirt, rub off my knees, and get back on track. The joy of having but the game of catch at the playground to worry about was mesmerizing. At least, until I hear the following,

“Abaaaaang, balik makaaaaannn..!”

It was my mom, calling from a few hundred yards away in our kitchen, for me to come home for lunch. And it was probably the only thing that could keep me indoors. Because loosely translated, it also means, “Don’t make me go there.”

I got a similar call last week. No I wasn’t at the playground. I’m 28. And this time, it wasn’t my mom. It was Mama Melba, of Simply Mel’s.

“Beng Naki Kumi!” reads their menu. Which means “Come here and eat!” in Kristang, the language spoken by the Malacca Portuguese community. It was a greeting I could already smell as I stepped into their premise. The sweet scent coming out of their kitchen filled the air and my stomach growled to the beat of the traditional music coming out of the speakers

I was intrigued, naturally, when I was first informed that we would be reviewing a Malacca Portuguese restaurant. I know very little of their culture, let alone their cuisine. Back in school, I have read about the arrival of the Portuguese in Malacca in 1511. It’s the only year I could somehow remember from History class. I have been to the A Famosa a few times. And I have seen their Jingling Nona dance on TV. But that’s about it. If you ask me today, the only other thing that I could probably tell is that some of the early settlers from Portugal might be ancestors of footballer Cristiano Ronaldo.

I could really use an introduction to the Malacca Portuguese heritage. They are a part of the colorful fabric that makes our multicultural society. Plus, I could use some Malacca Portuguese friends. I’ve never had any, believe it or not. Only Kelantanese who thinks they’re Spanish.

“Catalan, Kelantan, what’s the difference?” they would say.

Our host for the day was Alison, Mel’s daughter. Sweet as gula Melaka, Alison was quick to win our hearts as she gave us a brief overview of the place. The family run restaurant opened its door to the public on July 15th, 2011. Located at The Sphere in Bangsar South, Simply Mel’s is right in the heart of Klang Valley. Situated amidst the towering skyscrapers and office buildings, the restaurant is perfect to meet the demands of the always on-the-go white collar professionals on weekdays, and city-dwellers craving for home-cooked food on weekends.

I am not one to say much about interior design -- my wife would agree -- but the setup at Simply Mel’s creates that warm and homely ambience to its customers. As you step into the entrance, a cozy waiting area welcomes you with family photos, portraits and a congkak board rested on a brick wall. Further inside, a painting portraying the arrival of the Portuguese from Lisbon across the seas to Malacca grace the dining area. A bit of history to accompany your gastronomic journey, crossing cultures and traditions.

As we made ourselves comfortable, Alison walked out of the kitchen with her crew to fill the table with our starters for the day. And I was left puzzled, not knowing where to start. (Always a nice problem to have.)

We were served with Crab Stuffing, Belacan Fried Chicken, Pineapple and Cucumber Salad, Mel’s Malacca Laksa and Karing-Karing, a type of crispy salted fish-ikan bilis crossover.

Crab Stuffing and Belacan Fried Chicken

The Crab Stuffing caught my eye and I wasted no time scooping out a sample of its goodness and evidently enough, I was in sheer ecstasy. Made from crabmeat, minced chicken, dried carrot, onion and turnip, the mix is stuffed in crab shell and baked to perfection. Every bit of its ingredients stood out as only the freshest ingredients are used in Mel’s kitchen. Same goes to the Belacan Fried Chicken. It’s not every day that you get farm-fresh chicken.

Karing-Karing, Pineapple and Cucumber Salad and Mel's Malacca Laksa

The Pineapple and Cucumber Salad reminded me of the acar buah that grandma used to make. It was perfectly balanced with the sweetness of chunky pineapples tossed with onions and sambal belacan. To end our round of starters, we slurped into the hearty bowl of Mel’s Malacca Laksa. The aroma of its lemongrass-filled coconut broth brought a sense of nostalgia somehow. As if we were brought back to a familiar time when the authenticity of laksa still stood strong. None of those pre-cooked food court quick fixes. The wonders of home-cooked meals.

I needed a break. Too engrossed I was in the generous portion of starters that I forgot that we still had a long way to go. It was time to wash down our introduction to Simply Mel’s to make room for the awesomeness that was to follow. For drinks, I had their Asam Boi Limau while Azalia had Barley and Lychee. Nothing like classic beverages to relive our childhood together with the homely delicacies of Mel’s kitchen. Certainly left us smiling after every sip.

Just as we were sipping away, Alison and friends came again with the main dishes for the day: Mel’s “Devil” Curry, Corned Beef Meatball Stew, Keluak Curry, Baked Fish, Soy Limang Terung, and Petai Sambal With Prawn. A feast fit for an army of 300.

As its name signifies, the Devil Curry features a fiery hot blend of spices from the kitchen served in warm basket and topped with slices of chili. Nevertheless, it’s the heat that keeps you coming back for more.

Devil Curry

Still profusely sweating from the Devil Curry, we sampled the milder Corned Beef Meatball Stew, and it was a winner. Slow cooked with cured beef meatballs and filled with potatoes, macaroni and vegetables, the stew was definitely something special. The taste oozes quality and the wholesome goodness of its ingredients was enhanced with the flavors of cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg. This is one dish that is sure to give anyone that extra boost of energy. I wonder if Tongkat Ali is one of the ingredients.

Corned Beef Meatball Stew

The Baked Fish reminded me of our Ikan Bakar trips to Umbai, Melaka. Mel marinates the ray fish -- fresh out of the ocean -- in lemongrass and turmeric sambal and bake it banana leaf. The Baked Fish, along with Soy Limang Terung and Petai Sambal with Prawn made me feel like I was in my mother’s kitchen. The cross-cultural Malay and Portuguese influence of these dishes is apparent was savoring every bit of their flavors.

Baked Fish

Simply Mel’s is not without meals for adventurous foodies. In fact, one of the main specialties of the place is the Keluak Curry. Brought all the way from Indonesia, Keluak is a type of nut that is slightly poisonous and needs to be “cooked” underground in ash before it can be consumed. Listening to Alison describing the preparation of the Keluak nuts made me feel like Andrew Zimmern. Sure it was no Japanese Fugu blowfish but hey, you gotta start somewhere.

Slow-cooked with tender chicken in sour-ish curry, the pasty content of the Keluak nuts is to be dug out, and mixed with rice and a generous ladle of its gravy. All you need is a take a good crack at the outer shell, and savor the velvety goodness of its content. The flavor is strong and does require some acquired taste to be enjoyed thoroughly. Nonetheless, it was an experience to remember. So when you’re at Simply Mel’s, do try out the Keluak Curry and Dali Kumang! (That’s “Eat with your hands!”)

Keluak Curry

Our little adventure didn’t end there. With us still captivated by the Keluak experience, Alison brought out a plate of their Black Sambal Sotong. Passed down from her grandparents to her mother, Mel has brought this special family delicacy to town. With the black ink-bag of the squid untouched, the dish is slow-cooked in spicy sambal. And as the simmering pot of deliciousness is set over low-fire, the ink-bags burst out its black ink, giving the sambal its dark, mysterious character. Great tangy flavor right to the last bite.

Petai Sambal with Prawn, Soy Limang Terung and Black Sambal Sotong

And then it was time for desserts. Simply Mel’s range of desserts offers a variety of traditional delicacies of the olden days. We were brought in time as Pulut Hitam, Sago Biji Gula Melaka, Pulut and Homemade Kaya and Durian Santan were served before our eyes in charming little vintage bowls ornately painted with motifs of simpler times.

Pulut and Kaya

I’ll be frank, if I could come again during tea time just to enjoy these four dishes at once, I would. The Pulut Hitam was purely authentic with salty santan giving it that extra edge and longan for some fruity sweetness. The sago was presented in its appropriately chewy tenderness. The smooth and creamy homemade kaya bonded exquisitely with the pulut. And to top it all off, was the King of Fruits that is durian served in santan. An excellent blend of the strong pulsating taste of the durian drowned in the richness of santan. We were sold.

Sago Biji Gula Melaka, Pulut Hitam and Durian Santan

Just like four very well-fed kids, we were leaning on our backs at the final sip of the sweet desserts. And we were joined by the queen of the house, Chef Melba herself. It was an honor. Always warm and never short of a smile, we felt at home as we introduced ourselves and immediately complimented her for the happy tummies that were ours.

It was enlightening, listening to Melba’s insights on her philosophies of cooking. The notion of bringing home-cooked meals to the city is, to me personally, a noble act. City dwellers long for these meals that are cooked from the heart and prepared with love. It’s difficult to find proper traditional delicacies that preserve their heritage and history around here. We long for the experience of enjoying the food prepared. Every plate tells a story and Mel’s cooking had certainly told us its tales. She keeps it simple and serves it with love.

Apart from preserving culture in the form of cooking, Mel also puts forth a lot of effort in conserving traditions in other forms. The Patui card game, is one of them. Played as a family pastime, Patui is a game of cards that are portrayals of different characters that were contemporary in the older days. The icons in the game itself were from the different ethnicities surrounding the Malacca of yesterday. And Simply Mel’s is doing all they could to let it the game live today, and tomorrow.

It was hard leaving the restaurant with so much more to learn. Alas, we were the last guests for the day and the generous dinner had certainly made us four very sleepy. I did manage to bring home a taste of the place. It was a bottle of Mel's homemade kaya. And I couldn’t wait for breakfast the next day. Azalia brought home some Last Polka, the feel good ice cream. Famous for its unique, localized flavors of Salted Gula Melaka, Horlicks, Teh Tarik and Durian, Last Polka homemade ice creams are not to be missed.

So what have we learned, from our newly-acquainted Malacca Portuguese friends?

1) Multi-cultural food remains a universal language to be understood, and tasted by all. The blend of European and Asian flavors from this experience taught us of the beauty in the combination of the various spices and eclectic cooking styles of East and West.

2) We can’t wait for the next call to Beng Naki Kumi!

More photos here.
Simply Mel's website.

Simply Mel’s was nominated for the Time Out KL Food Awards 2011 in the Blogger's Choice category. Vote them here!

The above review was made possible by allMalaysia.info, the Star Online's travel and information portal. For more reviews, please visit allMalaysia.info's Restaurant Review section.

Simila-where?

2011-08-13T14:34:00.010+08:00

"But there’s nothing there..." I said, of Bintulu.

"If there's something there, I would've probably read about it already," I added.

Azalia remained adamant as she continued scouring the Internet for things to do in Bintulu; ignoring my notion that the coastal town in Sarawak has nothing more than an airport and industrial plants. Home to a number of my friends who were involuntarily posted because their engineering degrees fit the plethora of positions there. Positions that were vacant because nobody wanted to be there.

I was of course, talking without any basis. I’ve never been to that part of Borneo. And my assumption was simply derived from the stories of friends who used to stay there. Friends who couldn’t live without MTV that is. Not to mention I was at the early stages of my affinity toward travel writing. I was blinded by the delusions of traveling to the great lengths of Petra and Machu Picchu to gather materials for our travelogue.

"Ahah!" she broke the silence, shattering the image of walking along the Great Wall I was having in my head.

She turned the laptop to me and showed its screen. It was displaying a website probably designed in 1995. The header read, "Similajau National Park".

The thing about our thirst for adventure is that there’s no quenching it. No matter where we go, there’s always this constant urge to squeeze an hour or two to move off the beaten path and take the road less traveled, and return immediately when things get creepy.

So when we had to be in Bintulu for work, where only tanks and turbines come to mind, the challenge of finding a place to escape to was ours for the taking. It had to be somewhere unheard of and nowhere near downtown. Somewhere for us to go and bring home something from our short stay there. Something in the form of a cherished memory and not an overpriced keychain from the airport.

I scrolled down the website and read briefly about Similajau. I was skeptical, still. While we wanted to go to a place nobody had heard of before, we wanted to know why nobody has heard of it as well. And what better way to do that than gathering information from a website made not too long after World War II.

Similajau did sound encouraging enough, nevertheless. It’s a jungle with a trail that’s right off the coast of the South China Sea. A jungle, by the beach. What’s not to like? The park supposedly provides habitat to 24 recorded species of mammals and 185 species of birds. That’s more species than Kuala Lumpur, at least. As we read further and reached the section on dolphins, we were sold. Just like UFOs, I thought they only existed in Western countries. We decided to give it a shot.

Azalia had already arrived in Bintulu earlier. I flew into Miri to meet my good friend Ali who will be joining us for the trip. All set to spend the weekend roughing it out in the wilderness, we drove to Bintulu at dusk in his Nissan X-Trail.

With the Miri – Bintulu road having more potholes than the Moon, our adventure seemed to have begun without us knowing it. After only 3 inches beyond the Bintulu district border, we were already moving into oblivion, driving in darkness along the bumpy road which never seemed to end. We were going off-road, on the road.

But we were in good hands, I thought. I’ve known Ali for long and he’s a pretty good driver. Plus, we had Stevie Ray Vaughan playing on the stereo. It felt like driving through the rough terrains of the Mexican border, flashing our lights to the oncoming traffic -- consisting of both vehicles with and without lights. Mostly without.

We arrived in Bintulu just in time for dinner and called it a night early. We needed the rest to wake up fresh for our journey into the wild. I had nightmares of riding a bike with Evil Knievel that night. Thanks a lot Miri – Bintulu road maintenance team.

We took off for Similajau after enjoying a serving of mee kolok for breakfast. Mee kolok is a staple in the Sarawakian diet. Made with what seemed like wantan mee, it is served with soup and eggs with bits of chicken on top. We had ours not too far from the Rancha Rancha Industrial Area. I thought it was nice to have breakfast alongside the local workers from the plants nearby. With most of them in their safety suits and boots, I did glance around to see if any of my friends were there. Maybe they had McDonald’s that morning.

The drive to Similajau from Bintulu took about 40 minutes -- a rather short trip. Leading into the beach area was a narrow road made of rubbles sandwiched by rows of pine trees. I rolled down the window for some fresh ocean breeze. After two unidentified insects made their way into my mouth, I decided to roll the window back up. And there we were at the entry point.

Admission was only RM10. And since it was a working day, I think we were the only people there. Which was great... the entire park to ourselves! Well there were probably 3 or 4 foreigners sunbathing on the beach, which I thought was pretty hazardous considering the amount of UV rays at the time was through the roof.

We drove along the chalets for nice parking spot under a shady tree. Azalia had earlier suggested that we stay at the chalets to get a real feel of the place. But that was in KL, when she was in her Camel Trophy mode. Judging by how empty the rows of chalets looked, and the "Beware of Crocodiles" sign not too far ahead, I suppose we all got a little creeped out.

As we settled down and geared ourselves for the hike, I had a good stretch and another unidentified insect made its way into my digestive system. I was good for lunch.

The sight was mesmerizing. For a city dweller like us, the view of the jungle adjacent to the golden sandy beach was refreshing. That’s right, the sand was gold in color. And if you go further up the track, the color gets brighter as it leads you to the ultimate destination for every trip to Similajau, the Golden Beach. Also known as a spot where turtles lay eggs, the Golden Beach is near the end of the 10km Similajau trail. It’s reachable by boat or a 4-hour hike on foot. Seeing no boats around, we duly crossed off Golden Beach from our itinerary.

There are seven stops along the trail, the main ones being Batu Anchau, Selunsur Rapid, Turtle Beach, Golden Beach and Sebubong Pool – every stop about 2km from each other. Already in his Oakley sunglasses, Ali seemed set to go all the way to Sebubong Pool and back by sunset. While putting mosquito repellant on, I said, "Bring it on, Batu Anchau!"

It was nice walking on a trail with the sounds of ocean waves and jungle creatures replying to each other in the air. Nature’s Orchestra, I would call it; where the sea meets the forest. Not too far into our hike, the sounds soon disappeared, as the sound of me and Azalia puffing and panting for air took over. The trail wasn’t that steep but with the fitness level of couch potatoes, we only have ourselves to blame. Ali on the other hand, was already leading the way by a good half a mile ahead. The spirit was still strong in that one.

We reached Batu Anchau after about an hour of hiking. The rest area is close to a surface made of black bare rock bordering water and land. I felt exhausted and thirsty, but liberated. Azalia was excited, snapping away photos to upload on Facebook. Ali was just sitting there, calm and composed as he lighted up a cigarette. All in a day’s work for the seasoned explorer.

"We’ve surely made quite a journey eh," I said, before turning my head around to notice the park administration office still only a stone’s throw away.

A sense of frustration crept into me after being led to believe that we were already deep into the tropical jungle. Alas, I ignored the sight and looked the other way, lost into the panoramic view of the South China Sea, wondering deeply, if there’s a vending machine somewhere.

We got back on to the trail after about half an hour later and reached a crossroad. Should we continue, the next stop would be another 2km away up and going back would be a 4km trip. Considering that we both only had 12% of the energy he had, Ali let me and Azalia decide. In a heartbeat, and full of determination, we said "Let’s go back."

Leaving Similajau wasn’t easy. We parted ways with so much more to discover. I probably only saw one of the many species of animals that were supposed to be there. It was a blowfish, forming bubbles on the surface of water underneath the suspension bridge as we made our way back. As if mocking us, for covering only a pathetic 1/4 of the trail. The dolphins we longed to see were nowhere to be found.

But Similajau remains a sanctuary. For those seeking serenity, devoid of commercialization, Similajau is a great place to discover and uncover its hidden charms. While the park management could do more in maintaining the place, there is this element of mystery in its abandonment that not many other places have. It’s probably not the ultimate playground for adventure seekers but if you’re ever in Bintulu and in need of some nature, take a short drive to Similajau.

Just don’t roll down the car windows.

Unmistakably Malay, On Monsoon Discount

2011-06-25T14:22:00.004+08:00

In her personally signed letter to us, probably prepared not too long after swiping our credit card, the Guest Liaison Manager of Tanjong Jara Resort wrote,

"Here, every breath is pure refreshment, a journey of revival."

She goes on welcoming us with warm and confusing words such as 'accentuate' and 'myriad', setting the tone nicely as the sound of the ocean breezes through our ears while complimentary drinks were served. It was described as the exotic, 'Roselle Tea'. My tongue somehow told me it was Ribena.

We were taken to our room by Hairul, a lovely young chap from the local district of Dungun -- something I could sort of tell from the extra 'g' in some of his words. Never short of a smile, Hairul showed us around. The swimming pools, the restaurants and bars, the facilities, and the most expensive room, Suite 201 which costs around an arm to a leg per night, per person.

I was a little weary from the drive along the half-complete East Coast Highway to pay attention to the other things he showed. At least until we walked into our room where a bathroom the size of five Toyota Alphards greeted us. You simply can't miss that one. Apparently, our reservation was upgraded and the resort was kind enough to give us a room overlooking the South China Sea with a king-sized bed, an extra couch, and unlimited supply of 500ml bottles of mineral water. The overpriced beverages at the minibar however, remain untouchable.

It was a room you wouldn't want to leave. Maybe it was the mesmerizing, beautifully designed motives of the structure, based on the elegantly crafted wooden palaces of Malay Sultans. Maybe it was the sound of the ocean; whispering through the creaking window. For me at least, I couldn't move an inch away from the room because Max X Top 20 Extreme Videos was on TV. There was simply no escaping that.

Nevertheless, we were hungry. So after waiting approximately 73 minutes for Azalia to get ready, we were on our way to their intentionally yet stylishly misspelled restaurant, Di Atas Sungei. Located on a dark timber balcony over a flowing river, the unique thing about this place is that they've got no menu. But that doesn't mean you can order anything. For just as I was about to order Maggi Goreng, the chef made her way out to read out the kitchen's offering for the evening.

Like everyone else at the resort, the chef was a friendly lass. Ever so chirpy as she explains the local flavors they've got in the kitchen -- as she would to most of the guests (foreign couples over 50). It was only apt that we reciprocated accordingly and ordered what any foreign couple in their golden years would, Nasi Goreng Kampung Telur Mata.

"Perfect!" Azalia complemented her later when she swung by to check on us. I was too engrossed in the plate of awesomeness to notice. It's a shame that I couldn't do my Gordon Ramsay impersonation in all its glory while she was there. But the food was really good. And at a generous RM15 a pop, it was cheaper than the cashew nuts at the minibar.

We began the second day a little nervy as it was raining the day before. And despite the monsoon season promotion we got (of course we went on discount), we were actually hoping to win the gamble. Luckily, the Sun shined brightly enough on the first day of February for us to get out a bit later in the morning, at 3pm.

Which was of course early enough for us to cover the entire 17 hectare of the resort's "undulating semi rustic landscape". Or at least that's what they say in the brochure -- which I would totally agree if I know what 'undulating' means. Simply put, the place reminds me of those luxury resorts I had the privilege of peeking at while I was in Bali. Incidentally, I had to walk pass by those place whenever I wanted to go back to my budget hostel there. The less than sober Australian couple who ran the place had quite a sense of humor building their joint there.

Tanjong Jara is one of the more than 500 Small Luxury Hotels of the World. So to actually be walking in one, while being a guest, gave me a glimpse of what it's like to holiday like the rich and famous, without being either. Serene swinging hammocks, beachfront meditation spots, award-winning spas, every step along the coast was a delight. Speaking of their spa, one of the items in the menu is called Panji Alam Urutan Panglima. I think I've seen a similar service advertised at a traffic light somewhere.

The beach is as private as you can get. Well in fact they try to make everything as personal as possible. Everyone knew us by name and for a glorious 3 days 2 nights, we felt like celebrities. If only they could hire makeshift Paparazzi photographers to hide behind the bushes to make the experience more real. Maybe I'll get into a scuffle with them and make the headlines the next day. But that's just pushing it. Still a brilliant idea.

Anyway, we retreated to the beach not too long after walking around. It's been a while, and to be reunited with the sea breeze and the sound of the waves was sheer ecstasy. I had my guitar with me sitting on a log, closing my eyes playing Blackbird again and again. Azalia had the time of her life snapping away with her cameras together with props weighing two baby elephants. We felt like we could be there forever. The beach was our playground. It doesn't take much really when you're by the beach. The hassles of the real world seemed too trivial to be given attention. The noise of the city, left behind as you immerse yourself in the tranquility of the sea.

Alas, nature never lost its sense of humor. The infamous East Coast rain showered down just as I was about to reach Snooki-level tan. We ran for shelter, passing by the pool where children were still somersaulting, unfazed by the incoming storm. It is what it is I guess, Monsoon Season Discount.

The rain aside, we couldn't ask for a better honeymoon. And if we could do it all over again, we'd change nothing. What's not to like? A hidden cove right off the coast, preserved and blended with the landscape of a lost era. All from as low as RM800++ per night. (As mentioned, go for Monsoon Season Discount. It's half of that.)

It was then time to leave, not without a heavy heart. I reckon the receptionist could tell that from the sound of my voice begging for late checkout through the phone. We bid Hairul farewell and he gave us more 500ml bottles of mineral water for the road. Probably not knowing we've shoved nearly every complimentary item from the room into our bags. We don't do this often man.

For all its great service though, Tanjong Jara could maybe consider changing their tagline, Unmistakably Malay. It could work both ways.

Note: If you're driving, swing by Kuala Kemaman for arguably the best sata joint in the country. It's like otak-otak, only you'll end up eating more charred banana leave. Make a U-turn at the Mobil station and it's right there in front of Teluk Mok Nik, otherwise more awesomely known as Monica Bay. Oh yeah, and this trip was from way back in February. Unless you own the resort, good luck getting Monsoon Discount in June!

More photos here.

About

2011-06-20T22:57:00.001+08:00

"Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness." -- Mark Twain

How's that for an introduction? I googled it.

Welcome to Busking Barefoot, our travel blog.

Not too long ago, on a long drive home from work, I said to my wife Azalia "We should write a book. We'll figure out the title later but the tagline would read: He's a musician*. She's a photographer. They're both travelers. This is their story."

The tagline seemed perfect. It depicted our passion for the arts and desire to discover the world. Not to mention the tinge of mystery with the short sentences and all. I could already see it proudly displayed in between The Motorcycle Diaries and Eat, Pray, Love at the Travelogue section.

But there was one problem. We're both very impatient people. And getting a book published is probably the only thing longer than getting your tax return. There's concept development, manuscript draft, editor review, and a host of other lengthy procedures that sound like the ones I'd just made up.

So we decided on setting up this blog. It's online and it's free.

The tales from our travels are presented here in the form of my writing and her photography works. Or, in some cases, her writing and her photography works. You don't want to see the photos I took. This one time I tried taking a macro shot of a ladybird and it ended up as a picture of my elbow.

That's enough background for now. Enjoy your time here and do leave a comment or two. We like reading them.

*I'm not really a musician. While I do have a decent guitar collection acquired mostly during my college days (with scholarship money), I could barely play Happy Birthday to save my life. If I cut an album, it would probably sell approximately 30 copies. Which is not too bad had it not been my mom who bought them all.