Open Writing

A few years ago, having saved enough for our first overseas holiday since our kids were born, we decided to accept the recommendation of my husband’s boss, Jim, to visit Penang in Malaysia.

Also acting on Jim’s advice, we contacted a travel agent in another town and asked him to arrange our holiday. We were warned, although this agent was efficient, he was somewhat unconventional. Our second visit to him proved this. He told us he had arranged our holiday in Penang and we were also having a few days in Langkawi.

“Where’s that?” we asked.

“It’s the main island of a group of 99 islands in the Andaman Sea, close to the Thai border,” we were told. “I’ve been there and it’s lovely.”

“But we don’t want to go there,” we said.

“It’s all arranged,” he countered, “you’ll love it.”

Feeling somewhat railroaded, we agreed to spend a few days there after our stay in Penang.

With great excitement we arrived at Wellington airport a few weeks later to board our plane to Auckland, where we would connect with an international flight to Kuala Lumpur via Brisbane. In Kuala Lumpur we would transfer to a domestic flight to Penang. We had a long day ahead of us. Unfortunately, our flight was delayed and upon our arrival in Auckland we were told because we were late, our reserved seats in a non-smoking area had been given to other passengers. My husband explained I was allergic to cigarette smoke, but was told, it was the seats they were offering or nothing.

Things went rapidly down hill from that point. Economy class travel is uncomfortable at the best of times, but on an Asian airline where the seats are made for small Asian derrieres and you are surrounded with Asian men, chain smoking foul smelling cigarettes, it is a nightmare.

Furthermore, the flight attendants were far from being demure Asian maidens. These gals were gorgons. One of them spied a passenger on the far side of the plane sitting on the arm of a seat while he talked to a friend. “Get off there!” she yelled across the plane, “you’ll break it.”

At one stage I got up from my seat to stand near the galley in the hope of getting a breath of unpolluted air. I was told in no uncertain terms to get back to my seat.
As the atmosphere grew thicker and thicker with cigarette smoke, I sat in my seat becoming more and more ill. To make myself as comfortable as possible, I reclined my seat. An announcement was made that dinner was to be served, so all seats should be returned to an upright position. Food being the last thing on my mind, I remained as I was. “Put your seat up,” ordered the flight attendant. With that she pressed the button on the armrest almost catapulting me the full length of the plane!

“I don’t want anything to eat. I’m not well, you stupid cow!” I yelled. With that I slumped into unconsciousness.

I was oblivious to what happened from thereon in, but according to my husband, the Flight Services Manager put over an announcement to see if there was a doctor on board. Two answered the call. After they had looked at me, passengers were shuffled around to enable me to lay full length across three seats. A little later, the Flight Services Manager told my husband he had arranged for us to be moved into the First Class section of the plane where there was fresher air and more spacious seating.

This is the point where I would have been terribly embarrassed had I been conscious of what was happening. I was carried the full length of the plane draped across the back of the Flight Services Manager, with a cabin attendant following behind to ensure I didn’t fall off. Behind her were the two doctors and then my husband carrying our possessions – and everybody stared!

I travelled the rest of the way in First Class stretched out across two seats. My husband was told there would be a wheelchair to meet us at Kuala Lumpur. However there was no sign of one or any other assistance. After being on the go for 15 or so hours my husband was forced to half carry me and our carry-on bags across the tarmac to a waiting shuttle which took us to the terminal. He then had to negotiate a strange international airport, pass through immigration and collect our suitcases before finding his way on an airport shuttle to the domestic terminal. Once here we settled in to wait another three hours for our flight to Penang.

The flight to Penang went without a hitch. It was raining when we arrived, but after some searching we found the battered old car which was the ‘limousine’ that had been prearranged to take us to the resort where we were staying. The one-hour journey through the jungle in the dead of night during a tropical downpour was somewhat daunting.

Happily the resort was everything Jim said it would be and the week there was worth all the discomfort we had endured before hand.

We then caught a flight to Langkawi. At that time there were three main resorts on the island.

We had been booked into the Langkawi Island Resort, the first of the resorts to be established. Out travel agent told us he had been there and it was ideal as it was within walking distance of the main wharf and only a short taxi ride from the main town, Kuah.
The room we were escorted to was obviously not the one our travel agent had been shown as the walls were covered in mildew. We refused to accept it and were offered another which at a glance was acceptable. However, we were later dismayed to find the room was fitted with what surely must have been the most antiquated and noisy
air-conditioning system in Malaysia which kept us awake all night as it turned on and off.

We spent the first two days of our holiday here and found that despite it being situated in a lush tree-clad site with views overlooking a picturesque bay, the place was shabby and run down, the housekeeping was not up to scratch, service was non-existent and the extensive menus of the two restaurants were more suited to an Asian palate. It became clear, despite the idyllic surroundings this was not a place we wanted to stay.

Our holiday had been booked through the airline and as they had an office in the lobby of the resort my husband paid them a visit. He told them our accommodation was unsuitable and we wanted to move. As we had prepaid they weren’t interested. My husband stood his ground. He was told because it had been booked in New Zealand, only the New Zealand Office could approve our move; there was a phone in the lobby from where he could call New Zealand. After one or two attempts at making an international call via a system where nobody spoke English or could bother being helpful, he gave up and we moved out regardless.

Our new accommodation, the palatial Pelangi Beach Resort, situated in 10ha of manicured tropical gardens on the sheltered southern coast of the island was more than acceptable. We were accommodated in one of a number of traditional Malay kampong styled bungalows with a view of the beach. All the bungalows at the resort, which incidentally was the venue for the 1981 Commonwealth Heads of State weekend retreat, were equipped with air-conditioning, ceiling fans, television, telephones, mini bars and tea and coffee making facilities.

As is often the case in a holiday atmosphere food tended to gain extra importance. This was recognized at the Pelangi Beach Resort. Whether we were having breakfast on the Bougainvillea covered terrace of the Spice Market Restaurant, a snack at the sunken poolside bar, dinner at the Thai-styled seafood restaurant or a sumptuous barbecue on the beach, we were always made to feel as though it was a special occasion. For those times when guests were not up to dining out or required a meal at an odd time, 24 hour room service was available.

At Pelangi we were able to unwind, stretch out and soak up the sun in a relaxed unhurried atmosphere. For more energetic guests, tennis and squash courts, a gymnasium and facilities for a wide range of water sports were provided. It was also possible to hire bicycles to explore the island, to go on organized jungle treks and to take boat trips to outlying islands.

After the stress we had suffered getting to Lankawi, a place we didn’t want to go to in the first place, the Pelangi Resort provided the holiday our travel agent had promised.
The ensuing year-long, but successful struggle, to get an apology and a refund for the hotel from the airline is another story.