The Backpacking Housewife Read online

  I probably spend about another half an hour just enjoying the views and the breeze.

  Then I make my way back down the mountain in the cable car to meet with Zara.

  She’s waiting for me at the bottom, all smiles and pleasantries, with the news that she’s taking me to lunch and then onto one of the most beautiful waterfalls on the island. Lunch is a café next to the cable car station but again she insists I have a ‘lovely meal’ while she waits for me outside. I worry that she doesn’t have the money for cable car fees or café lunches, so I make it clear that I would be paying for her, but absolutely nothing I can say will persuade her to join me.

  I bolted down a much needed iced-coffee and we’re soon on our way again.

  This involves driving along narrow winding roads through the jungle and taking steep roads up into the mountains. Here, there are monkeys everywhere. The side of the road is lined with monkeys of all sizes and lots of the females have babies clinging to their bellies or riding on their backs. They’re playing run and dare with the traffic or congregating like teenage gangs on laybys or sunning themselves right in the middle of the road and making all the cars go around them.

  Every time I yell, ‘oh, wow, look – a monkey!’ Zara stops the car while I get out to take photos and she shakes her head and laughs. I suppose that’s because she’s so used to seeing them herself and they hold no novelty for her.

  ‘Be careful, Miss Lori. Keep tight hold of your bag and phone!’ she warns me.

  Holding onto my possessions and with no free hand, I shove a bottle of water in the crook of my arm while I take a photo of a cheeky looking monkey and the bottle is snatched right off me by another in the troop. Then, I watch in astonishment, as it cleverly unscrews the top and drinks it all before throwing the empty bottle back at me. What a cheeky monkey!

  I’m just so grateful it hadn’t taken my phone, simply because it has Ethan’s number in it, and despite trying to memorise the number last night I can’t recall it again now.

  Further down the road, we drive past a man standing at the roadside. I notice in passing that he’s very tall and incredibly thin with a bare concave chest and dirty wild straggly hair and he’s wearing Indian-style pantaloons and some kind of long scarf around his neck.

  Zara pulls the car over into the kerbside.

  I assumed it’s because she thinks I should give the poor man a few ringgits.

  ‘Would you like to see a snake?’ she asks me, with a bright smile.

  I look at her in horror. ‘A what? Did you just say snake?’

  ‘You like monkey. So I think you also like snake, yes?’

  I turn and look out the window and quickly realise that the stick thin beggar man doesn’t have a long scarf wrapped around his neck – that’s a snake hanging from his shoulders.

  ‘Oh my g-g-goodness!’ I say, covering my mouth in case the f-word pops out.

  ‘He’s blind and very poor, so he waits here with his snake for tourists to come. You can hold the snake for just a few ringgits.’ She explains this to me with a look of sympathy on her face that leaves me in no doubt that I have to get out of this car and give this man some money, then get back in again unscathed and as quickly as possible.

  Zara sees me hesitating. ‘He would appreciate your charity, Miss Lori.’

  ‘Okay, I will give him some money, but please tell him that I don’t want to hold the snake.’

  ‘I will take your photo!’ Zara enthuses, totally ignoring my last comment.

  We get out of the car and the beggar man hears me approach and holds out his arms expectantly. He looks straight ahead, unseeing, but the snake is watching me from where its great head is resting on his shoulder. It’s huge and its scaly body is a golden yellow colour. Its tongue is flicking in and out of its mouth. It’s the biggest snake I’ve ever seen.

  In a panic, I reason over when I’d actually last seen a snake of any size?

  In the zoo, I think, when the boys were little. They’d loved seeing them in the reptile house where they were at least behind glass. But not like this – a big thick heavy looking monster coiled around this man’s neck and body. I look down to rummage in my purse for some cash and the next thing I know, the snake is suddenly around my neck and wrapping itself into a tight coil. I can’t believe how heavy it is. ‘Noooooo! Get it off me!’ I squeal.

  Then Zara is beside me, grabbing my phone and snapping away.

  ‘Smile! Say slippery snake!’ she insists, laughing.

  I grit my teeth and pose just to get the whole ordeal over with so I can get back in the car.

  After the terrifying snake episode, we drive on along winding roads until eventually, we pull over into a monkey-filled carpark area. This is apparently the start of the trail to what is the most beautiful waterfall on the island. It all looks like virgin jungle terrain to me.

  Zara insists it’s just a ten-minute walk to the waterfall, but we spend the next hour or so hiking along a narrow uphill stony and muddy path, picking our way through slimy green mud and ankle-deep water. Flip flops are not ideal for this but then any other type of footwear would have been totally ruined. It’s hot and steamy and slippery as we cling to and practically swing from overhanging branches and thick hanging vines just to make our way forward in the absence of any handrail and to prevent sliding to our deaths in the jungle and raging river far below us.

  We could have been walking for hours – it’s hard to tell while covered in sweat mud and mosquito bites – when eventually I hear the thunderous sound of water falling from a great height not too far ahead of us and we pick up the pace.

  Then suddenly, we’re at the lagoon below the falls. A blue-green oasis of calm water and plunge pools. The falls are impressive, tall and narrow, the thunderous water gushing through a misty rainbow at the top of the towering rock face and hurling down into the steaming lagoon below. This really is the stuff of dreams and so breathtakingly beautiful.

  Now that we have finally made it here, I’m glad we didn’t turn back, as I’d certainly considered doing so at least a dozen times during the journey. I slip out of my shorts and shirt (I’d come prepared and was wearing my swimsuit) and I slide carefully off the slippery rocks and into the cool water. I’m surprised to find myself immediately surrounded by lots of large friendly fish that are only visible when I look very carefully, as they’re completely transparent in the water. They swim around me, nipping at me curiously but painlessly with their beaky lips. They don’t seem to mind people at all and so I don’t mind them either.

  Zara sits happily on the rocks with her feet in the water as I lie in the lagoon on my back, floating blissfully in the deliciously cool and refreshing water and looking up at the sparkling rainbow above us. Another big tick off the bucket list, I tell myself, happily.

  When Zara drops me off at my hotel in the late afternoon, after a full day tour that had been all and more that she had promised me, I ask her how much I owe her. At this point, having enjoyed my day so much, I really don’t care what she asks me for because I’ve had such an amazing time. But the amount turns out to be completely unrealistic and utterly ridiculous. I am completely taken aback – because it’s so little.

  In the UK, I’ve paid as much just to take a fifteen-minute taxi ride into town.

  ‘No, Zara. That is not enough. You have put fuel in your car and driven me around all day.’

  ‘No, Miss Lori, that is my price and I have really enjoyed the time we have shared together.’

  I give her a hug. She’s such a lovely and honest and kind person. I feel humbled.

  ‘Me too, Zara. I’ve had a day to remember for always. But I must pay you this much instead.’

  I give her a note from my purse that’s around three times what she asked for and yet I still feel like I’m taking advantage of her somehow. ‘Will I see you later, at the restaurant?

  Zara says that yes, she’s working this evening and that she will reserve my table.

  I think hungrily of all
the delicious seafood I’m going to eat there tonight.

  Indeed, that evening, the food is superb and the restaurant is a little less busy.

  We get to chat a little more, and I tell her that I’m off to Kuala Lumpur in the morning to meet with my two sons. I also show her some of the photos on my phone and she shows me some more of hers. And, before I bid her a fond farewell, I make sure to tip her well.

  I walk back to my hotel feeling happy. This is what a life of travel is all about. Getting to spend a wonderful day exploring a new country is fantastic but it really is all about the people you meet. I fondly think of all the people I’ve met so far during my travels – Summer and the lads travelling with us to Railay Beach. George and David and Laura and Jodie – and of course Ethan. And Zara … having the good fortune to spontaneously meet someone local and honest and hardworking like her and to spend some quality time with her today.

  Yes, that’s what makes the journey so worthwhile.

  Chapter 14

  Kuala Lumpur

  Kuala Lumpur, or KL as it is known, is a modern shiny high-rise metropolis and the capital city of Malaysia. I arrive after a short flight from Langkawi and I take a fast train from the airport straight into the city centre or KLCC, as it is known. It’s from the window of the train, as we speed into the city in twilight, that I get my first exciting glimpses of the fabulous Petronas Towers and the famous KL Tower, all lit up and twinkling in white lights and dominating the KL skyline. Just seeing these iconic sights fills me with tingling excitement.

  I’m in Kuala Lumpur – and just the sound of its exotic name gives me a thrill.

  It also thrills me – and disconcerts me in equal measure – that Ethan is also in KL.

  I don’t know where he’s staying. But I know from what he’d told me on Koh Phi Tao, that he’s staying here for a few days before he flies to Northern Malaysia. He might, of course, be staying with friends rather than in a hotel. He might even be on the train that’s passing mine right now at high-speed heading back to the airport for all I know.

  I have my phone in my hand from taking photos.

  The same phone that has his number programmed into it.

  I wonder, if I call him right now, if he’d answer it.

  But I know that I’m not going to call him.

  I’m still too afraid of the awful imaginary worst-case scenario of my heart being broken again. Besides, I remind myself, I haven’t come halfway around the world looking for a new man in my life. I’ve come out here looking for a sustainable lifetime of happiness and purpose and I’m still waiting for the sign I’ve been promised.

  However, even this self-pep-talk doesn’t stop me from searching for him in the crowds once I reach the city centre, or my heart from skipping a beat at spotting a tall and handsome man in an extravagant shirt, who for a moment looks just like him.

  I check into the Intercontinental, where I’ve reserved a room for Josh and Lucas too.

  I’ve found, in Malaysia, with such a favourable exchange rate and a lower cost of living, that my money goes a long way here so I splash out on an upgrade. As I’m expecting to be cash-rich soon anyway, from Charles buying me out of my share of the house, I check us into two suites at club level. My suite is a luxurious dream. Its centrepiece is a humongously downy soft bed with whiter than white top-quality bedding, set amidst classy furniture and gorgeous thick carpets. My bathroom is even dreamier in marble with gold accessories, and with every luxury imaginable included – a huge bathtub, a very fancy separate rainfall shower, a vast double-vanity with huge mirrors and soft lighting and a complete array of quality complimentary toiletries. There’s even a welcome basket of fruit and chocolates.

  I leap onto the bed and am immediately so comfortable I take a much-needed power nap.

  I wake at 7 p.m. and liven myself up with an espresso coffee from the posh-looking coffee making machine on the refreshments counter and then spend a lot longer than entirely necessary soaking in the tub with my complimentary aromatics.

  Then, in a soft fluffy bathrobe, I stand at the wall-to-ceiling windows admiring the twinkling lights of the city of Kuala Lumpur beneath me and indeed all around me and it all looks so amazing that I have to pinch myself to prove I’m not dreaming.

  I wouldn’t want to leave my room at all, if it wasn’t for the temptation of complimentary canapes and cocktails in the executive club lounge, that I’ve been told is included in my stay. The club lounge is one floor up in the elevator. I’m greeted warmly and offered champagne, which I sip while marvelling at the uninterrupted views of the shiny white sparkling lights of the twin Petronas Towers opposite.

  They look like tall and magnificent twin Christmas trees.

  Of course, now we’re so close to Christmas, I can see a tiny Christmas tree at the base of the towers and in front of a lake with its multi-coloured dancing water fountains. It’s probably a gigantic tree at ground level, all lit up and decorated with colourful baubles, but from here it looks dwarfed by everything around it, that’s even taller and more majestic.

  The following morning, I go shopping. There are two vast shopping malls filled with all the top designer names just opposite each other and very near to my hotel. I buy a couple of new city outfits. My floaty beach dresses and cut off shorts and flip flops look rather out of place here even though we’re still basking in around thirty-six Celsius.

  I have my hair and nails done too and later that afternoon, I take the train back to the airport to meet my sons. I can hardly wait or suppress my excitement at seeing them again.

  They messaged me twelve hours ago, just as they were boarding the plane at Gatwick to say their flight was on schedule. I wait at the barrier in the arrivals hall. When I see them walking towards me, looking a little tired and dishevelled and jetlagged, I can hardly believe they’re real and I throw myself at them, hugging them both at the same time.

  It’s a messy scene. I can’t help but shriek and weep buckets.

  ‘Oh, Mum, look at you!’ Josh exclaims, looking shocked and holding me at arm’s length once I’ve finally released him. ‘You look … amazing. I didn’t know it was possible to get so suntanned. I hardly recognised you!’

  Lucas looks equally taken aback by my new look.

  ‘Gosh, you’ve lost an awful lot of weight, Mum. But Josh’s right, you look totally amazing.’

  I must admit, I’ve also been rather surprised at seeing myself in a new light and in a full-length mirror in my bathroom at the Intercon. There’s been quite the transformation in me.

  As a housewife, I invariably wore my hair tied back and never wore any make-up on my face unless I was going somewhere special. So my complexion has always looked pale and insipid. In the cold weather, I covered my nondescript lumpy figure with an unvarying routine of warm clothing, usually several layers of vests and sweats, and on even colder days, a big baggy sweater over the top of those layers, with jeans or stretchy black leggings that didn’t do me any favours either.

  I couldn’t look more different now. After a whole month of Asian food and a mostly vegetarian diet, I’m a lot slimmer. I now wear light clothing to fit and skim my body and I can get away with it because, thanks to all the sunshine and so much walking and swimming and even a little yoga, my new figure not only looks slimmer, but also firmer and toned and tanned.

  Of course, I wear my hair differently now too, I leave it long and free and tousled and it is a far more flattering shade of natural sun kissed blonde than could ever have been achieved in a salon. Today, I’ve had it washed, deep-conditioned and curled with a styling wand at the salon in the mall. It looks soft and shiny and natural.

  Knowing I look so much better than before has given me a new confidence.

  I’ve never been one of those super-confident and self-assured women who can walk into a room and turn heads – but I have always envied those qualities in other women.

  I appreciate my boys noticing.

  We take the fast train from the airport. The b
oys are a little jet-lagged but still impressed by the views as we speed into the city. I am buzzing with excitement. ‘Wait until you see our hotel. It’s fabulous,’ I tell them. ‘You’ll be able to freshen up in your suite and then we can have a couple of drinks and a light meal before you both get some much-needed sleep. Then tomorrow we can explore KL together!’

  The staff at the hotel are so kind and welcoming. I chatted to them earlier and told them that my sons were joining me from London, so they make sure to check the boys in quickly and go straight onto offering us cocktails and wines and even champagne in the club lounge, while also serving us a fantastic selection of nibbles from the cold platters or hot appetisers from the chef on hand at his cooking station.

  We lounge on big comfortable squashy sofas, me in the middle of my two sons, in full view of the sparkling steel and glass Petronas Towers, as we eat and drink and chat. The boys tell me they’ve brought the few personal items I asked them for, and there’s also some paperwork from their father. I glance through the papers and note that they’re divorce proceedings. He’s cited an irrecoverable breakdown of marriage rather than his infidelity as the reason for our divorce. But I’m really past caring. I’ve surprised myself (and, admittedly, shocked my boys) by how indifferent I now feel about the whole affair and the separation and divorce.

  ‘And what did he say about me being willing to sell him my half of the house?’

  ‘Are you sure you want to do this right now, Mum? We could always do this tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, I want it all out of the way, so we don’t have to talk about legalities again.’

  ‘Okay, then these are the deeds of transfer Dad wants you to sign for the house,’ Josh explains. I take a good look. And, just as I’d asked, the house had been assessed and revalued.