My hotel room need not be decorated to the latest fashion, with frills and automatic sun blinds; I need no art on the walls, no 24-hour room service, no video entertainment, no in-room safe, no private, stocked bar-cum-refrigerator, no computer, and certainly no multi-line telephone. All I need is a room that is not too confined. I like to have enough space to move freely about without having to resort to the bed when my husband wants to go from the window to the bathroom. I like a decent luggage rack for my suitcase, so that I need not sit on my heels when rummaging in my bags. All I want is a moderately spacious room in a mid-range hotel, centrally situated.
Hotel Nova, at RM$135 (34E), breakfast included, suits my needs perfectly. When I enter Hotel Nova, the first thing that strikes me is a strangely formed, red circular seat with a kind of cone as a back rest. The second thing is the freezing cold. The air-conditioning is on at full blast. The golden rule in Malaysia is: the colder, the chicer. It makes me wonder what the temperature will be in the Ritz Carlton Hotel, with a room rate of RM$380 (95E).
The lift hums softly and takes us to the second floor. A blue-carpeted corridor stretches in front of us, doors on both sides, with a peephole and a doorbell. Our room is at the far end, away from the clicking and burring of the lift. Inside the room, we insert our credit card-type room key in its holder, and the lights flop on. The heat wraps around us like a duvet, but the a/c, on at full blast, chases away the heavy, humid air.
Our room is the standard hotel room: writing pad and pen next to the telephone, a tray with a water boiler, cups and complimentary tea and coffee, writing paper in envelopes with the hotel's logo. And there is more. A shower cap in a neat little carton box, tiny bottles of shampoo and shower gel, toilet paper folded to a v-shape, and glasses wrapped in plastic.
We could be anywhere in the world, until I look out the window. Down below is Jalan Alor, the food street. Across the road a busy cook wipes his hands on his apron, steam billows from a wok, and a slender Chinese lady stirs a family-size pot and adds some noodles. A young man paints Chinese characters on a menu board. I open the window, and an appetizing aroma pervades our room. The whole street is alive with food. It is high time to go down and join the diners.