Day four of no washy-washy. The “hose on the wall” shower setup is messing with my head—water spurting all over the tiled bathroom willy-nilly. It’s like peeing on the floor. My hair reeks. I can no longer avoid the inevitable. It’s a baptism by fire.
Coconut Langkawi by Lary Kennedy captures the humor and humanity of island life in Malaysia — from lukewarm showers and La Crema Chardonnay to monkeys, waterfalls, and midnight storms. A heartfelt travel humor story about finding beauty and belonging in unexpected places.
Unfortunately, not enough fire. Two minutes of lukewarm is all I get. This sucks. I still have shampoo in my hair. I might have to stand in the current rain shower to rinse the rest out—it’s a hell of a lot warmer than that poor excuse for a shower. No one can accuse me of being high-maintenance, but dammit, I need hot water.
Now somewhat presentable, I mosey onto the strip and walk the half-mile to the duty-free wine and liquor store. Tentatively, I wander the aisles. What are the chances of finding a drinkable wine in this environment?
OMG—you’ve got to be kidding me. I do a double take. Right in front of me: a bottle of La Crema Chardonnay.
Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, I find you here. Hello, beautiful—you and a few of your friends are coming home with me.
Fifty-two ringgit a bottle, roughly twelve U.S. dollars, is far more palatable than the ninety-dollar price tag in Bali. Just shows to go ya how tariffs, trade wars, and shipping costs can twist a price point. Seeing as I’m all gussied up, I may as well celebrate my good fortune and take a seat at the adjacent bar.
Three Penis Colossus’s later, I’m shit-shatting with the bartender and a guy from Singapore who’s now sitting next to me. It feels good to hang out and talk about life. I’ve kept myself in safe mode since the incident. The three of us share many laughs—Mr. Malay, Mr. Singapore, and Miss USA finding common ground in a land far, far away.
In Sanur, Bali, all things beach shut down when the sun sets. Langkawi, on the other hand, is just getting started. Tables, chairs, and vendors appear out of nowhere, setting up pop-up cafés and restaurants along the entire beach. String lights anchor in the sand. Music plays, fire acts blaze in the distance, and children run about. Entire families are out together, delighted by the merriment.
Asia comes alive at night—understandably, with daytime temps a constant eighty-plus degrees—but I’ve yet to see a beach come this alive.
Langkawi is a holiday spot for many Muslims. Women of the faith are clothed from head to toe in public, making the heat unbearable, so when dusk hits, they wade joyfully into the cool ocean.
I’m not sure where the two weeks went, but my stay in Langkawi is ending. The rain canceled a few planned hikes, but I’m determined to climb all 638 steps—and then some—to see Seven Wells Waterfall.
My guide, Joey, picks me up at Hippy Hideaway. During the twenty-five-minute drive, I learn he used to be a “trolley dolly.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I was an airline steward with Malaysia Air,” he laughs. I’d never heard that before—trolley dolly!
It’s hot and humid, unlike my shower, as we make our ascent up the mile-long stairway. Seven Wells Waterfall (Telaga Tujuh) is a popular spot on Mount Mat Cincang, where seven natural pools flow into one another before dropping 300 feet into the forest below. Two major stair sets: one with 200 steps leading to the lower pools, and the other with 638 steps leading to the seventh. But wait—there’s more. Another off-road trail climbs to the Blue Lagoon, a few hundred feet higher.
Supposedly, that’s where fairies used to bathe. If it’s good enough for them… no two-minute lukewarm shower for me today! I plunge in, clothes and all. After an insanely pleasurable hour soaking in the warm water, Trolley Dolly points toward the exit—muscle memory, I assume.
On the drive back, monkeys swarm the roadways. We honk and swerve to avoid them. WTF?! I can’t stop ducking in fear of hitting one.
“People keep throwing food at them,” Joey sighs. “It’s dangerous—for them and for drivers. Malaysia runs campaigns asking for the public’s help.”
“Do monkeys get killed?” I ask.
“Oh yeah,” he says. “All the time.”
Damn. What a bummer. I can’t stand the thought of running over a grasshopper—imagine a monkey.
Langkawi has grown on me. The stars feel close, the nights peaceful, nature unfolding gently around me. The storms mesmerize. I love watching torrents of water cascade from above while chilling in the open-air lounge at the Coconut Langkawi. I’ve spent many late nights here while everyone sleeps, just sitting outside my door, writing, reading, or watching chickens and cats wander the property. There’s magic in this space.
What started with Why am I staying here for two weeks? ends with Why am I leaving so soon? My descriptions have evolved—from shabby cottage to exotic bungalow, from ramshackle surroundings to a vibrant neighborhood. What I once called a less-than-stellar beach “resort” I now see as a lively family seaside enclave.
There’s a beauty in Langkawi that can only be experienced. Most Americans I know would find little appeal in spending their vacation here. I probably wouldn’t have chosen it either. The shower alone…
This is my life now. I’m no longer an observer looking in from the outside—I’m living inside it.
We arrive on Earth standard-equipped with judgment. It’s needed for survival. One day it might become as useless as wisdom teeth, appendixes, and hairy armpits. Until then, the only way to truly experience life is to wear the shoes of others, even for a short time.
I try anyway. Most pre-programming is hard to shake. Learning anything new takes practice.
May as well start training my body to dream of lukewarm showers. That would definitely make life easier moving forward.
