Under the Rain Trees
Shangri-La’s Rasa Sayang Resort & Spa, Penang
All too soon, twilight had hit Batu Feringgi Beach. A single brown leaf made the perfect bookmark and I lay my head back on the pillowy white sand. The rain trees above must have been more than a hundred years old, their leafy canopy so thick, only tiny slivers of electric blue skylight could shimmy through. The waves rolled onto the shore with gentle conviction and an orchestra of crickets began their nightly symphony. Mother Nature was bidding us farewell for the day. It was time to head back to the resort.
The lobby was captivating with its beautifully carved wooden artefacts, colourful batik prints and golden jewellery. Each piece mesmerised, drawing me closer to its own narrative from centuries past. A young porter came to take my bags and when he smiled, I felt an extraordinary sense of familiarity. As if I somehow knew him, like a friend, even family.
A seductive breeze, carrying the sweet aromas of cinnamon and clove, coasted through the air leading me to the Spice Market Café, where inside, a bizarre culinary circus seemed to be in procession. The pungent aromas of nutmeg, cumin and ginger danced a waltz around the room; and chefs prepared colourful Peranakan dishes, as if they were performing some sort of flamboyant magic act, that moments later transported me to a deliciously alternate cosmos of Chinese and Malay cuisines.
Outside the Feringgi Bar and Grill, the rain trees swayed dramatically as if serenading the moon above and there was something cool and mysterious in the air. But inside, the mood was different. A waitress welcomed me with a smile that felt more like a hug; and familial warmth radiated the den-like dining room with its rustic red brick walls and candlelit lanterns. The first course, a delicate yet robust tomato soup prepared right at my tableside, warmed my soul and set the night sailing to pure perfection.
As darkness spread quickly across the island, the Batu Feringgi market awoke, row by row, like a colony of fireflies. Savoury treats like satay and popiah allured and enticed, and stalls upon stalls of beaded slippers, wooden knick-knacks and delicate coral sculptures cajoled with their beauty. But after a long day of nature walking and exploring nearby George Town, it was the enchanting tranquility and sanctuary of the resort that beckoned with the most allure.
The bathtub on the balcony, filled with its ambrosial jasmine-scented water, was almost anaesthetising. In the distance, the blackened sea rumbled softly in the night, and all around, the giant rain trees rustled, whispering secrets in my ear. And when it was time to sleep, I lay down on the king sized bed, that was more like a freshly formed cumulus cloud, and let the Peranakan artwork on the walls tell me old love stories of Baba and Nyonya until I fell asleep.
A soothing massage of long sweeping strokes over splashes of sweet lemongrass oil sent everything floating into a dreamlike universe. Thick lush foliage spread for miles painting the rainforest every possible hue of green, and ancient rain trees soared high in the sky as if reaching for something spiritual beyond the clouds. The air quivered with the intoxicating scents of exotic Malaysian herbs and everything was surreal, fantastical; only the percussion-like sounds of the rainforest were a reminder that we were, in fact, still here on earth.
Then adrift, somewhere between sleep and consciousness, smothered in a luscious concoction of fresh cucumber and aloe vera, I might have lost myself in the pure indulgence of it all, as it is not uncommon that during a visit to the spa, one might feel as if he or she has perhaps become closer, if not one, with the mystical forces of the rainforest.
