A trip to Singapore and Malaysia
Singapore: The Tidiest Place on Earth (Probably)
If Bali was a sensory assault, Singapore was the palate cleanser.
Stepping off the plane felt like entering another world: clean streets, organised queues, functioning infrastructure, and a general sense that someone had a handle on organisation.
After Indonesia, it felt a little too organised.
The hostel situation, however, was less polished.
The government had recently cracked down on backpacker hostels, leaving only a handful of semi‑illegal operations running quietly in the shadows.
Mine was someone’s converted apartment with six beds crammed into a spare room, stifling heat, and what I can only describe as a creative interpretation of health and safety. I stayed two days and honestly couldn’t have cared less.
First stop: the zoo.
Normally I’d skip zoos entirely, but Singapore’s has such a relentless reputation that I felt morally obliged.
It was, broadly speaking, a zoo: animals in enclosures, tourists pointing cameras, the usual.
And then they let me hold a chimpanzee for a small fee.
I’ve always loved chimps for some reason. Maybe it’s the human like features, the intelligence, the cheeky face, I don’t know but to have one sitting on my lap was the highlight of the zoo trip for sure.
Evenings in Singapore were spent around Orchard Road by the harbour where I found waterside bars and a relaxed vibe.
Beer was expensive by Southeast Asian standards, which meant I spent more time at the ATM than queuing for a beer.
Singapore Sling at Raffles: Dressed Down in a classy bar
No visit to Singapore is complete without a Raffles Hotel visit, one of the most famous hotels in the world, where rock stars and royalty have stayed.
Surprisingly, they let scruffy backpackers into the public lounge bar, albeit that the entrance is tucked far away from the elite main entrance.
For about £10, you can sit in a fancy bar and drink the hotel’s famous Singapore Sling cocktail.
A few extra dollars will get you a souvenir glass and the recipe. And if you’re truly committed to value, as I was, you can also pocket a beer mat and a box of matches.
I bought the lot. Plus, a side order of monkey nuts, which I enthusiastically shelled all over their immaculate floor while dressed in my best (and only) jeans and a T‑shirt that hadn’t seen a washing machine in several weeks.
The other clientele had dressed up. I had dressed as myself: a dirty backpacker punching above his weight in a fancy bar.
Kuala Lumpur: A Rude Awakening
There’s a naive assumption that neighbouring countries must be broadly similar. Australia and New Zealand. Canada and America. North and South Korea — alright, maybe not those two. But I assumed Singapore and Malaysia, a six‑hour train ride apart, would be pretty much the same.
I could not have been more wrong.
Within minutes of arriving in KL, a taxi driver had whisked me off to a completely different hostel to the one I’d asked for. Clearly on commission. And before I’d fully twigged what was happening, I was checking into a place I didn’t want to be in a part of the city I hadn’t planned to stay in. The hostel was grim, right in the middle of a chaotic Chinatown that never slept.
I also hadn’t realised Malaysia was a predominantly Muslim country. I found out at dawn, when the call to prayer echoed across the city. Something I had never experienced before.
KL had its moments, though.
The Petronas Towers were jaw‑dropping — at the time, the tallest buildings on earth, 88 floors and 452 metres of gleaming ambition.
I was too broke to go up to the observation deck, so I stood at the bottom craning my neck like all the other cheapskates.
The buses, at least, were exceptional — leather recliners, air‑con, the works. My five‑hour ride to Georgetown in Penang was more comfortable than most flights I’d taken.
Penang: History, Heat and the Long Road East
Penang’s history is as layered as its food. Once an uninhabited island, it caught the eye of Portuguese explorers in the 16th century before the British showed up, as the British tended to do, looking for a trading post and somewhere to exert influence.
After some colourful diplomatic maneuvering involving a broken promise to the local Sultan and a failed attempt to evict them, the Brits got their island and named the capital Georgetown after the King. Simple colonial tactics.
Georgetown’s old town rewards a wander: colonial buildings, old fortresses, gardens, and some intense heat. Throw in nearby beaches and it’s a genuinely special place.
From Penang, I embarked on what can only be described as a mission to reach the Perhentian Islands on Malaysia’s east coast. Two buses. Two boats. A day and a half of travel. But the moment I arrived at Perhentian Kecil, every minute felt worthwhile.
Travel to Perhentian Kecil: Paradise, but just don’t venture to the toilets
By this point in the trip, I’d seen some extraordinary beaches.
Perhentian Kecil belonged right up there with the best of them.
Accessible only by boat, it was just a beach — white sand, crystal‑clear water, jungle backdrop, a handful of beach huts and cafés. A generator ran for a few hours each evening before everything went dark around 10pm. No alcohol. A handful of other backpackers. Pure, uncomplicated escapism.
For two days I read, swam, ate, slept, and repeated the cycle with enormous contentment.
I took the cheapest room, which meant sharing with a Swedish girl I’d met on the boat over.
She didn’t say much and had, let’s say, enthusiastically natural legs.
The room itself was a tiny wooden hut on stilts that creaked dramatically with every footstep, with gaps in the woodwork wide enough to let in every insect on the island. Whether the tickling sensations in the night were creepy crawlies or stray Swedish leg hair, I chose not to investigate.
The toilet was a shared outdoor wooden squat hole-in-the-ground situation that appeared to have last been cleaned sometime during the colonial era. Every surface told a story of what someone had for dinner, even the walls. It was safer, and genuinely more comfortable, to simply not use it for the entire two days. Quite possibly the worst toilet in the world.
But apart from that, it was truly absolute paradise.
I often wonder what Perhentian Kecil looks like now, nearly 25 years on. I suspect the generator is long gone, the huts have been upgraded, and the toilet situation has been resolved. At least, I damn hope so!
Read more from our travel adventures around the globe over the decades here.
