Blog 10: 23rd April 2014. Hiring a car abroad

Three flights left to go...

It was a typical hot sunny morning by the time Emma and I left the room and had breakfast for the last time at the Concorde. For some reason we always chose cereal here, always served with thick UHT milk. The hotel shuttle bus took us to the airport, and we arrived at the terminal with plenty of time to spare, to check-in at the MAS desks housed on the top floor of the spacious multi-purpose terminal building. It was about the size of a football field, with departures above arrivals, themselves above the offices and these above the transport hub below containing the KL Ekspres train and bus station. The roof of KLIA was as spiky as the grandstands at Sepang F1 Circuit, but inside formed of brown wooden grilles high above our heads balanced on tapering concrete columns. There was an air of calm in the terminal, a low hubbub of voices just audible above the low rumbling of the air conditioning units and occasional sound of jet engines spooling up ready for take-off all echoing off the building's polished white and grey floor.

We were too early for lunch - MH1436, our flight, was at 13.10; our large and late breakfast would have to do until we arrived in Langkawi! We passed uneventfully through the security gates, this time to the far left of the terminal building as we were travelling internally. All electronics placed on a tray so as not to confuse the scanning man, shoes and belt off, and nothing metal on our persons. Domestic departures was far less exciting a place than International, consisting of only a small row of shops and some rather expensive bunches of Toblerones taped together in a 6 at a small cart selling sweets. The main KLIA terminal is a rectangular glass-fronted building, with northern and southern spars sticking out at the eastern side for domestic departures. International departures could take a short monorail ride from the main terminal to a cross-shaped building, similarly glass-fronted and airy inside, located between the airport's two main runways, each arm of the cross serving as aircraft parking and departure gates, arriving and departing passengers divided into two floors of the building.

We arrived at our gate, and with nobody at the desk simply took a seat and waited for the crowds to slowly trickle in. After about 15 minutes, sitting and talking, watching the occasional 737 taxi past out of the window, the 30 or so of us who had gradually gathered on the rows of seats were told to get up and leave the waiting area, and show our boarding passes at the desk we'd walked past, now finally staffed! We queued, showed our passes and passports, and sat back down in the seats from whence we'd come, continuing to look out of the window as our characteristically oval-nacelled white 737-400 was waved into its parking place by a man waving a couple of high-vis flags below us. These 737s were the workhorses of the MAS fleet, old versions slowly being replaced by the larger and newer -800 versions complete with silver wing-tips, sweeping skyward. Our -400 had no such tips, instead simply a bulbous trailing edge extension to the wing housing a white anti-collision light. The gantry was still attaching to the plane by the time the luggage cart driver had opened the main cargo door and climbed aboard; the fuel bowser driver hooked up his ground line and hose to the wing and the ground crew attached the yellow tow-bar to the nose-wheel by the time all the passengers had been offloaded. It was finally our time to board, and we took our place in the queue to board the plane, eventually sitting in row 25 seats E and F, on the right hand side, some way behind the wings near the back of the plane - leading to a rather bouncy experience when taxiing over the concrete pavement!

We departed to the north via runway 36-Right, spotting the grandstands of the Sepang race track disappearing behind us from our right-sided windows, before spotting the tall buildings of Putrajaya and KL in the distance as we climbed into the clouds. By the time they had served the in-flight peanuts and orange juice, less than 30 minutes into the 55 minute flight, we were already clear of the northwest coast of Malaysia, nearing the island of Penang, its snaking new bridge clearly visible below us connecting to the mainland of the peninsula. Cruising at 27,000ft we were at the top of descent, and the captain updated us on our progress - it was a nice day in Langkawi, if a bit hazy, and temperature about 33°C. Emma noted the plane change its attitude, and noting nothing but the water of the Andaman Sea outside was worried slightly that the pilot was going to land well before the island! I tried to reassure her with maths (ballpark descent rate figure divided into altitude gave about 15 minutes flight time remaining), but I think that this method doesn't work for everyone, I'm unsure as to why!! Needless to say, about 15 minutes later we levelled out at about 2000ft above the waves, easily spotting tourist vessels and fishing boats going about their daily business on the sea below us, before the flaps were extended fully, the landing gear went down with a dull thump, and the trailing edge vortices could be seen spiralling their way behind the wings. At last the greenery of the island of Langkawi appeared out of the window, the main harbour of its capital town of Kuah sprawling out infront of us before disappearing behind a hill and giving rise to a white sand strip of beach parallel to a road lined with hundreds of low buildings, the Cenang Beach area of Langkawi, near where we'd be staying. We landed with a bump on Runway 03, famous due to the theories of the disappearance of MH370 in that it is a huge runway, nearly 4km in length!

The short walk to the small terminal building started with disembarking the plane from the back door, by a set of metal steps wheeled up to us, the blast of the Malaysian mid-day heat combined with the exhaust from the slowly spinning turbines equating the experience to opening an oven door. Entry to the terminal through a set of sliding glass doors revealed that baggage reclaim was to the right, separated from the tarmac by a wooden door flapping in the breeze, upon it a large sign reading ironically "keep closed and locked for security and safety purposes". A group of tourists crowded around a large map of the island placed inside a glass cabinet against a pillar, we took a glance and opted to photograph the map for later perusal. Our bobbles arrived in good time on the conveyor, and we took our cases from the belt before heading to the far right side of the arrivals hall, lined with a dozen small desks with tourist agency names in bright signage above them, eager company reps attracting the eye of unsuspecting tourists shouting "you want hire car?" "hotel cheap!" "diving tours here!". Emma had thought ahead, and brought up a TripAdvisor page about Langkawi, listing three hire car companies that were considered reputable by previous visitors. We chose Kasina car rental as it was the only one here matching our list; oddly, its sales assistant was a quiet lady keeping herself to herself, not leaning over her counter waving brochures like the rest. Her neighbouring stall owners seemed both surprised and dejected by our choice, though we had a sneaky suspicion that the young Malay chap to her right was actually a relative of hers, possibly her son, by the amount they chatted and shared information and phonecalls while we were booking in!

Car rental was cheap, Rm180 including deposit for 3 days (equating to just over £30, i.e. £10 a day!). We would pay her when we left the arrivals hall and passed through customs; then the car keys would be handed over to us. Noticing that Kasina was also a travel agent, I enquired about snorkelling experiences, and luckily such a thing was possible for a further Rm200 for the pair of us, including hotel pickup and drop-off for tomorrow morning, so we chose to do this too!

We passed through customs with our sales assistant in tow, and proceeded to the cash machine to pay her, where she handed us over to a Malay chap about our age who took us to the car. I had tried to refrain from signing the acceptance slip but she had insisted, so without looking at the car first we followed our new guide, receipt already received. I was filming the events, however! Langkawi airport was a single-storey, though high-ceilinged rectangular building, wider than it was deep. The arrivals hall occupied the top-right of the building if you looked from above, the departures hall the top-left, and the main concourse, before security, occupied the whole southernmost side; it contained numerous shops and eateries, from McDonalds to more extravagant noodle outlets. Camera accessories were available on the side furthest from the tarmac. A jet ski with three fluffy minions riding it stood proudly under a paragliding parachute suspended from the ceiling, advertising local company "Naam" and their adventure packages. We took a rain-check on this, but thought of perhaps investigating later. Langkawi is an entirely duty-free island so is slightly cheaper than the rest of Malaysia, especially for alcohol, although export limits restrict the amount you can take home with you!

Our hire-car helper led us across the carpark out from the front of the terminal building, firstly via a pedestrian tunnel capped with a blue translucent awning that did the opposite of what it was intended to - instead of shading from the sun, the temperature beneath the radiating awning felt a good 10°c hotter than the surrounding breezy car park! Never mind. We approached our car, a small silver runaround (Perodua Viva, known to us in the UK as the Nippa), about the same size as the old model Corsa B. It had seen better days, but we were assured it was all roadworthy and good to take away immediately! I stopped to photograph it from all angles, just in case they claimed the numerous dents in the side and the hanging-off rear wiper were our doing. The petrol gauge read empty on clicking the key to auxiliary - we were advised to return it in a similar state! Our man turned the key to start and she ticked into life immediately, air-con on full, no warning lights on the dashboard. The petrol station, the guy said, was just to the right of a set of traffic lights as you exited the airport to the left, so adjusting our seats and loading our luggage, we said thanks and climbed into the car. We nearly didn't get very far - while we were faffing with the luggage a guy in a silver Proton had parked directly in front of our bay, so our first real interaction with the locals of Langkawi was a quick toot on the horn, following which after friendly waves and gestures he backed up and let us out of our space to battle the traffic exiting the airport carpark. Immediately jumping to my attention was a dreadful creaking noise coming from the left front wheel, I hoped it was just a bearing rather than the wheel about to fall off; cranking the steering to full deflection either side didn't seem to show any defects and nor did heavy braking, so I tentatively drove to check the roadworthiness of the vehicle before taking it to speed on the roads. "This is a small island, no speed limits to bother with, just don't go above 100kmh!" the man had said. OK then!

Our little carriage awaiting us

We followed the turn left, then right at the lights instructions, but, petrol light flashing, could we find a petrol station? Could we 'eck! I wasn't particularly worried because we had the guy's number, but my copilot was cautiously anxious! It turns out that the great machine that is Google hasn't really taken off in Langkawi yet, searching for Petrol took the map screen a few hundred miles away to the mainland. Not quite what we wanted! Luckily I spotted a green teardrop sign, the Petronas logo buried amidst other signs on a lamppost that we drove past, with a small black arrow indicating ahead and left, and the letters "5km" beneath it. Fingers crossed that our game of petrol roulette would last us that long!!

The road from was wide, with only a handful of cars other than our own making their way along it. It was covered with a fine layer of golden sand, and the odd piece of litter floated around in the afternoon breeze. The edge of the road was poorly defined, sort of blending gradually into the sandy greenery beyond. We passed Langkawi's international exhibition centre, an arch across the road still advertising last year's International Aviation Expo. Damn, we missed it! A smattering of other buildings populated the road on either side as we drove along, some businesses with open shop fronts, some residences; from time to time big rusting advertising banners tried to attract us to buy motor oil. The greenery of the island was all around us, open fields with buffalo grazing on them, interspersed with wooden houses on stilts, leading to the mountainous centre of the island a few km into the distance.

We took a right at the end of the road, stared down upon by yet more billboards, and headed toward a less developed part of the island, with a greater density of grey concrete houses and dusty cars parked in driveways. Kids on mopeds buzzed around, overtaking slower vehicles or staying well to the left of the road, in the grit, if they were going too slowly. None of their riders wore helmets of course. Some mopeds which appeared to be two-up, on closer inspection were actually three-up, the third passenger revealed to be a small child sandwiched between the two adult riders!

The orange gearbox-shaped engine management light decided to blink to life, so with the low petrol gauge we now had two warnings screaming at us from the dashboard, and our Petronas logo had chosen to direct us in the direction of the mountains! 3km to go. The road was getting narrower, still two ways but not as spacious as before. I tried to save as much petrol as possible by being easy on the gears, smooth on the accelerator and allowing the idle-cutoff servo to do its job on downhills or deceleration but to my utter annoyance one of Malaysia's finest drivers happened to be ahead of us, nearly coming to a standstill on every slight turn as we progressed into more hilly areas of the winding road. We couldn't overtake for two reasons - firstly, we'd be killed by oncoming trucks, and secondly we'd push the petrol consumption up! So we sat there, by now both of us concerned about the pump sucking up the last of the liquid in the tank!

Emma the navigator was telling me we were rapidly approaching the island's famous cable car station, and that meant mountains - not the best tactic for saving petrol, but the only one we had. We snaked our way along the undulating road, and after a particularly steep ascent we were glad to see ahead of us that the road was now descending again. We had rounded what must have been a headland, and were coasting in the direction of the settlement of Kampung Kok. Less than 1km to go said the green teardrop; finally around a corner, the welcome sight of a Petronas logo, and the petrol station, sitting to the left of the road, a gorgeous coastline and bay coming into view to left of it and the road. As we approached the petrol station, we noted a white amphibious Duck was filling up too - useful information to save for a later date!

Petrol in Malaysia is ridiculously cheap by our Western standards, costing about Rm2.30 a litre. Apparently this is actually a subsidised price by the government - how's about that, subsidy, not tax! Rm2.30 works out to be about 40 British pennies. What a bargain! We put in Rm25, just over 10 litres, enough to get us 100 miles assuming about 40mpg of the little car. The petrol seemed cheap, but then on thinking about it, the average Brit earns about £1500 a month, and we pay £1.30 per litre; the average Malay earns less than Rm1000 per month, and pays Rm2.30 a litre - so really, we can see why the government is forced to subsidise petrol, the relative cost of petrol is over twice that of ours, even though Petronas has huge refineries and oil fields around the country.

Petrol in the tank, with a sigh of relief from both of us we turned the car around and headed back up the mountain road toward the airport; our hotel, The Villa Langkawi, was situated near Cenang Beach (Pantai Cenang), on the opposite side of the airport to that which we were currently located! Getting a tiny bit lost in a village while trying to re-trace our petrol-hunting steps, and again while trying to find the hotel (actually driving straight past it without noticing and continuing on for a couple of miles) we finally arrived. The modern yet minimalistic red, white and grey concrete building stood out like a sore thumb amidst the wooden shacks and roadside eateries of its neighbourhood; a small mosque stood next door, its dome and tower noticeable but not dominating the area. Slightly down the road, a larger hotel stood proudly behind a wall guarding it and its car park. Up the road stood a selection of small houses, bungalows, concrete, and none of them looking particularly well maintained. The road was quiet save for a few motorbikes and cars whizzing along from time to time. We parked up easily in the empty car park, which previous visitors to websites had described as "lacking". First job: unload. Second job: check the reason for the engine management light. Third job: check-in! Fourth job: find a laundry!

First job - done. Yellow and black cases, complete with bobbles, sitting in the sunlight. Job two revealed that the cooling water tank filler cap had come off and there was no water left in the system. There was no expansion tank like in UK cars, but instead a low pressure reservoir. Job 2 part A: find some water!

The hotel was a single storey construction, its minimalistic modern style including a rectangular entranceway leading to a corridor opening out to the left of a lovely blue swimming pool, also rectangular. Some rooms overlooked the right-hand side of the pool behind large curtained windows. A few chairs and tables rested to the left of the pool, between it and more windows, this time floor-to-ceiling, running the length of the reception area and what appeared to be the breakfast hall, complete with tables and chairs already laid out, and silver food domes neatly placed in a row along a central island. We walked to a pair of glass doors mid-way along the pool, and entered the reception area, paying a Rm50 deposit but our stay already paid for via Expedia.co.uk months beforehand. Third job complete - the keycard for room 113 was handed to us. Breakfast was served from 6.30 til 10, but there was no bar or food facilities here outside that time. Fourth job - price per laundry item was ridiculously high, we'd find another way later.

Good enough to be a brochure shot. The swimming pool and rooms of The Villa Langkawi, photograph taken later that evening.

Further down the swimming pool, beyond the end of the breakfast hall and swimming pool and opposite a triplet of black massage chairs, for some reason incredibly popular in Malaysia, the door to our room was within a concrete rectangular tunnel. Entering and turning on the light, we found the room was minimalist but to a good quality, the heavy wooden door impressing me firstly, and two towels neatly rolled and placed like iced buns upon the neatly made bed. A safe sat on a white makeup desk across the room from us, to the right of which a mirror hung on the wall. We placed our cases down. The bathroom was a good size, and made from grey polished stone, with white porcelain features and a good quality rain-effect shower behind a glass divider. Nothing to complain about!

As much as we both wanted to lie down and relax after our day of travelling, and after a bit of persuading poor exhausted Emma who was so drawn in by the prospect of the relaxing blue swimming pool only metres away, I filled the kettle in the room with water to complete Job 2A - and we sneaked it past the glass fronted reception desk and past a pair of intrigued staffmembers. I can imagine their conversation went something like "Tsk. British! Whatever next" *roll-eyes*. Car now filled up with water again, Job 2A could be checked off the list. The laundry was next. We returned the kettle to its rightful holder, probably to the relief of the watching staff (damn those glass walls), and locked the room, leaving my BMA Membership card in the power slot to keep the air conditioning running. Leaving the hotel we crossed the dusty road and approached a stall advertising AIS BLENDED MANGO/ORENGE/APEL JUICE, and COCONUT JUICE.

Despite having advertised coconuts, the girl serving the stall did not understand what "coconut" meant - instead shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders (despite the pile of green coconuts in the corner). Never mind,
"ais mango dua!" I said, and she promptly started shovelling ice-cubes into a blender and filled it with mango juice.

Once the noise of the rattling and slushing had stopped, Rm4 handed over (about 80p), I asked,
"Di mana 'laundry'?"
another blank look. She disappeared from view into the wooden kitchen to the left, and another lady popped out.
"Di mana laundry?" She pointed at and shouted something to her friend washing dishes at the back of the small shack's plastic seating area, who looked at us and said,
"Laundry? That way (pointing in the direction of the beach). Five minutes, walk".
Thumbs up. "Terima kasih!" We walked off in that direction, drinking deliciously quenching ice-blended mango juice. It turns out that the word for coconut was kelapa, and had I known that, we would have been holding two delicious ice-filled coconuts, straws poking out of their axe-made craniotomies. Never mind!

We were a few score feet from the drinks stall when "Allahu akhbar!" suddenly filled the air from the massive loudspeakers of the nearby mosque. Imagine a Christian church doing that back home, there'd be riots! Not one of the dozen or so native Malays scattered throughout the nearby stalls even flinched, all instead carrying on with their daily routine, smoking or reading the newspaper. The call to prayer continued, and walking past a dozen or so more wooden shops and buildings to the right we finally stumbled across a larger hut, with a few workers inside tending to large washing machines, a woman outside sorting out linen.
"Buka?" I asked. (Open?)
"Yes. Until 10pm! 8 Ringgit for a service wash, collect tomorrow" (our white faces gave the game away).
"Ah OK lah. Terima kasih!"
"You're welcome". Smiles all around.

Back at the hotel we chose simply to wash some clothes by hand in the sink. We only needed 3 days' worth before heading to KB. If we hadn't buggered up the visas, we'd have had plenty from a planned laundry trip in Perth, but never mind. Laundry left to soak, we changed into swimming gear, and at last headed for the inviting pool! It was delightfully cooling, and though being as salty as the tourist reviews had said it was, it was clean and clear. Seawater probably. We spent a good half an hour just lazing around, me swimming and doing lengths underwater as always, Emma opting to be less energetic and soak up the sun's rays. Refreshed, we headed back to the room to rinse off the salt, and got dressed in smarter clothes to go for dinner at the beach.

It was only a short car journey, the engine management light still on despite the water. Turning left down a side road before arriving at the main strip of Panta Cenang, I hoped to find the wooden waterfront restaurant that I'd eaten in with dad back in 2000. The Langkawi Holiday Resort and Spa was a sprawling complex, and in fact the one we thought we'd booked into until only a few days prior, owing to the poor utilization of Google by businesses in the area. It was at least a 4-star resort from the looks of it, traditionally themed wooden-frontage buildings but surely over a metal/concrete substructure. A central hallway linked the entranceway to the back of the building, where I knew the beach to be. We weren't guests, but dressed smartly and walking with purpose, nobody batted an eyelid as we walked through the complex. Past an open-air bar to the right, complete with musical stage and roadies preparing instruments presumably for a show later in the evening, we emerged from the building next to the hotel's luxurious and large curvaceous swimming pool, surrounded on all sides by the main building, outdoor restaurant and two room blocks, amidst a landscape of tasteful shrubs and curving cobble paths. A few dozen swimmers and splashers were enjoying their evening dip. We walked on, toward the beach; palm trees ahead of us swayed in the breeze, and we could see the blue sea stretching out beyond a strip of white sand. A small wooden hut formed an open but sheltered bar area, complete with stools. No sign of our old restaurant, though. A paraglider took off, complete with the roar of twin 150hp Evinrude engines of its towboat. Jetskis whizzed around in the distance, the spurts of water from their watercooling pumps firing high arcs of water behind them. The beautiful Cenang beach stretched for a couple of hundred yards to the left, before ending in a tree-covered rocky headland; to the right it curved around for miles, forming a bay. Directly in front of us, out across the water, the small tree-covered island of Pulau Epor lay about a kilometre offshore. We heard an AirAsia Airbus A321 roar into the air from the runway about 3 miles away to the right, taking a gradual climbing turn to the left, leaving our view to the left having flown parallel to the beach during its climb. A european tourist stood meditating into the warm onshore breeze, her red sarong flowing in the breeze; children played in the surf, a few venturing out further into the water to swim. It was a little slice of heaven, the low sun just to the right of Pulau Epor reflecting off the calm tropical water. We stayed for a little while, admiring the scenery, before heading to the modern-looking open-air and covered bar/restaurant that we'd walked past on the way to the beach, from the swimming pool.

Cenang Beach, complete with paraglider and paddlers.

The restaurant was as modern as the rest of the spa resort, with glass panels and a tastefully lit bar. It was shaped a bit like a mobile concert stage, closed at the back, used for an air-conditioned, glass-walled dining room, and open at the front, the ceiling serving as an awning for the tables in the main area. It opened out onto a few more tables outside placed around its main attraction, a stunning infinity swimming pool, with a now reflecting the evening sunset. A couple of palm trees were dotted around the pool's perimeter, amidst a few cushioned deck chairs and softly glowing light cubes, like those you'd see in an Ikea showroom. To our surprise and slight disappointment, the restaurant served mainly western foods, but we ordered from the small Local Cuisine section of the menu, and chose a pepsi and ice lemon tea to drink. We'd started by sitting outside by the pool, but noticing some ominous clouds building to the northeast behind the restaurant, we moved inside under the cover of the awning. A plasma TV showed a football match between the team of the Malaysian state of Negeri Sembilan and another - it all seemed normal, except for there being NOBODY in the grandstands behind them. Very odd.

The sun set; thousands of lights flickered to life out in the bay, the softly glowing cubes now brightly shining against the subtly lit background of the swimming pool. Strings of lights wound around palm trees provided a soft orange glow in the background, enough to see dozens of large bats flying around in the newly darkened sky. The meal was lovely, if served a little bit slowly, and was of a sensible price. We didn't do anything else that evening, instead opted to head home and chill, ready to get up tomorrow for our long day at sea!