…I think this hotel has quite the most stunning lobby I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen at least, ooh, three posh hotel lobbies in my lifetime:

It could all have gone so horribly wrong… And yet the space, the lighting, the furniture, the design… it’s all wonderful:

(Yes, the bar comes in multiple colours.)

(Those three red flags are up for Chinese New Year.)

And the restaurant isn’t too shabby, either:

And as for the rooftop swimming pool, which I went to take a look at tonight… Well, put it this way: I don’t say “wow” out loud very often. In fact the last time I did so, I do believe it was when I first met The Love Of My Life. Clearly, the second love of my life is a swimming pool. Here’s an arty, ie. blurred, picture of it. I wasn’t about to fall in; it’s just that my camera can’t compensate for the lack of light:

And true to this post’s form, I didn’t take any photos. I figure I’ve got two months to do that ;-).

What I did do, however, is walk around the block - which included taking in the food hawkers’ market place, and exploring every single floor of the six-tiered shopping mall next door. Because much as I hate shopping malls at home, when you’re Abroad, they’re quite fascinating (at least for the first time you go).

I learned that there’s a supermarket on the lower ground floor (handy), a cinema on the top floor (equally handy) and a Crocs shop (not handy at all).

I also bought myself a cute LBD for singing in; and some trainers, as mine were too large and heavy to carry when every kilogram my suitcase was overweight was a potential £36 charge from Malaysia Airlines. And a sports bra, because I forgot mine - and because I plan to hit the gym A LOT in this hotel. Even though I avoid gyms as much as I avoid shopping malls at home. But suddenly they’re both attractive propositions, given that it’s VERY VERY VERY VERY VERY HUMID INDEED out there. Even more so than the Sun Centre in Rhyl, my only previous experience of a tropical climate.

So now I’m going to hop to said gym, before dressing for dinner and then photographing the lobby like a nut (you’ll see why later). In the meantime, let’s hope the hotel residents won’t be too freaked out by my gymwear (thanks, Melissa):

After sleeping for 12 - count ‘em! - hours, this is the view I woke up to:

And here it is if you look slightly to the left:

Since I got up, I’ve been unpacking and ironing - how thrilling!* - all to the strains of some terribly cheesy ‘radio station’ (clue: I don’t think it’s an actual radio station) I’ve found on my TV.

I was listening to my own music via my iPod dock - but it felt very odd, I quickly realised, to be listening to, say Lloyd Cole, in a hotel room in Penang, looking out at that view. In short: it feels wrong to listen to music from back home while abroad. I’m not sure if this is a phenomenon restricted to hot countries (I know that when I’ve been to Ibiza, for example, I am overcome with the urge to listen to nothing but Cafe Del Mar albums); or whether it’s to do with properly throwing yourself into a new place and a new experience. Although the latter implies conscious thought, and it doesn’t feel conscious at all. In fact, it just feels instinctively wrong to be listening to ‘Jennifer She Said’, and instinctively right to be listening to ‘Fields of Gold’ played on a Spanish guitar.

Hopefully that’s the only time in my life that I will write that sentence.

And on that (easy-listening) note: I’m going to answer some emails, then hop in the shower, get dressed, and go out exploring. I’ll be back. With photos!**

*Actually, ironing here is thrilling. Because someone calls you up ten minutes into said ironing and says: “Hello Miss Andrea, just checking you received your ironing board?”

**Although given this post, that’s not guaranteed.