I hear that Muar used to be a very nice little town. Note I wrote 'used'. Although there is nothing obviously wrong with Muar, as far as I can tell in two days, I failed to find anything outstandingly great either.
Like most big towns, Muar is a mix of the old and the new. In many ways, the new has pushed the old to the periphery, or hemmed it in amongst blocks of anonymous, featureless, personalityless concrete and glass.
The Hotel Kingdom is an anachronism. It was started in the 70s, though first impressions suggest an age altogether more ancient. I am getting used now to the process of unpacking and bringing my things upstairs, and the Kingdom even afforded me a little entranceway so I would not be the focal point of attention as I unloaded and huffed and puffed up and down the stairs.
Once upstairs, I realised my first impressions might just as accurately be applied to the staff. Two old men, one behind an old fashioned counter complete with large leatherette-bound registration ledgers and a now disconnected telephone switchboard, and the other dressed in a pressed white shirt and black tailored trousers... and slippers, attended to me.
They were both friendly blokes and my total lack of Hokkien and Mandarin and their lack of Catonese and limited English made the whole process of signing in much more romantic and memorable. It turns out the room rate is RM 38 and I'd have to give them at least half-an-hour's notice if I wanted a hot shower as they'd have to switch the main heater on.
The room has a two-seater grey vinyl couch with a laminate table in between the seats on which was placed a red plastic tray bearing a plastic water jug and two tapering coffee-shop glasses, two single beds, some brass hooks set in a wooden plaque on the wall, and a cheap laminate dresser cum wardrobe. Pale sky blue paint, peeling parts, pale blue curtains and a green and white mosaic floor set off the whole perfectly. I love it!
My room fronts a street with moderate traffic. Muar has its fair share of the large-and-loud exhaust pipe fraternity and it seems that every hour or so one member of that group has to rumble, pop, snort and fart along this street.
Directly across from the hotel is the Darul Masyhur Indian Muslim restaurant. Like the Batu Pahat Rest House restaurant, I chose this one to be my frequent haunt. The Teh Halia is not particularly inspiring but I'm a lazy bugger and a little halia is better than none. I can't find any other Indian restaurants nearby.
The noise from the traffic and the patrons of Darul Masyhur has now become a burble in the background, neither intruding nor disrupting thought nor sleep. It abates early and starts relatively late, so the nights are quite peaceful.
Being a biggish town, Muar is relatively impersonal. Besides a short conversation with the proprietress of the Darul Masyhur about my trip and some with the old folks in the hotel, I haven't really engaged with anyone here. Which is fine with me. I decided then that I would do one of my favourite pastimes - observing.
I spent a few hours yesterday and today walking around Muar. I was surprised at how late the morning starts here - by 8, the streets were still relatively empty. I had breakfast at a hawker centre around the corner. I'd had lunch there when I arrived yesterday and that was far better than the pseudo Penang Laksa I had this morning. Why would I order that, you ask, considering I shall be having the real thing in a few weeks? Well, truth be told, I thought I was ordering normal laksa...
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Like most big towns, Muar is a mix of the old and the new. In many ways, the new has pushed the old to the periphery, or hemmed it in amongst blocks of anonymous, featureless, personalityless concrete and glass.
The Hotel Kingdom is an anachronism. It was started in the 70s, though first impressions suggest an age altogether more ancient. I am getting used now to the process of unpacking and bringing my things upstairs, and the Kingdom even afforded me a little entranceway so I would not be the focal point of attention as I unloaded and huffed and puffed up and down the stairs.
Once upstairs, I realised my first impressions might just as accurately be applied to the staff. Two old men, one behind an old fashioned counter complete with large leatherette-bound registration ledgers and a now disconnected telephone switchboard, and the other dressed in a pressed white shirt and black tailored trousers... and slippers, attended to me.
They were both friendly blokes and my total lack of Hokkien and Mandarin and their lack of Catonese and limited English made the whole process of signing in much more romantic and memorable. It turns out the room rate is RM 38 and I'd have to give them at least half-an-hour's notice if I wanted a hot shower as they'd have to switch the main heater on.
The room has a two-seater grey vinyl couch with a laminate table in between the seats on which was placed a red plastic tray bearing a plastic water jug and two tapering coffee-shop glasses, two single beds, some brass hooks set in a wooden plaque on the wall, and a cheap laminate dresser cum wardrobe. Pale sky blue paint, peeling parts, pale blue curtains and a green and white mosaic floor set off the whole perfectly. I love it!
Directly across from the hotel is the Darul Masyhur Indian Muslim restaurant. Like the Batu Pahat Rest House restaurant, I chose this one to be my frequent haunt. The Teh Halia is not particularly inspiring but I'm a lazy bugger and a little halia is better than none. I can't find any other Indian restaurants nearby.
The noise from the traffic and the patrons of Darul Masyhur has now become a burble in the background, neither intruding nor disrupting thought nor sleep. It abates early and starts relatively late, so the nights are quite peaceful.
Being a biggish town, Muar is relatively impersonal. Besides a short conversation with the proprietress of the Darul Masyhur about my trip and some with the old folks in the hotel, I haven't really engaged with anyone here. Which is fine with me. I decided then that I would do one of my favourite pastimes - observing.
I spent a few hours yesterday and today walking around Muar. I was surprised at how late the morning starts here - by 8, the streets were still relatively empty. I had breakfast at a hawker centre around the corner. I'd had lunch there when I arrived yesterday and that was far better than the pseudo Penang Laksa I had this morning. Why would I order that, you ask, considering I shall be having the real thing in a few weeks? Well, truth be told, I thought I was ordering normal laksa...
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3 comments:
Old School Stuff. Like It.
Ha! Great stuff, keep those legs pumping and take care on the roads. Lots of feral drivers. Your description of Hotel Kingdom makes me think you're travelling on a pedal powered time machine. All the best.
Those flickering shots on slide is so P.Ramlee days. Keep it up JZ, you are giving me new meaning to life...
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