Travel in the charm of another era on board Malaysia’s Eastern & Oriental Express | Canada Voices

I take the train for the romance of it – for a taste of an older world. Visiting Malaysia, I had been dazzled by the futurisms of Kuala Lumpur and Singapore, scion-cities of late-stage capitalism, filled with glitzy shopping malls, spacey light shows, skyscrapers so avant-garde they might be half-built or simply newfangled, and assurances that Asia was the future of the world. It was also pitilessly hot and humid.

“You don’t know how to walk in Singapore,” a girl said to me, hiding her giggles at my sweaty shirt behind her hand. “You have to slip from mall to mall, spending as little time outside as possible.”

But passing from one air-conditioned arcade to another struck me more like hell, and one can only drink so many $16 beers, hear so much unending traffic and read so many signs like “Failing to flush toilet is illegal” (who needs such a sign?) before thinking the future isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

I felt like taking a step backward, away from that shining Tomorrowland, into something a little cozier. Standing on the open-air caboose of the Eastern & Oriental Express, watching the Lion City and its stippled skyline fade into the horizon, I felt entirely at peace.

How luxury train travel is turning the journey into the ultimate destination

The E & O Express was resuscitated by Belmond in 2024 after a COVID-19 pandemic hiatus and is now the only sleeper train still operating in Malaysia (the Intercontinental Express still runs overnight from the Thai-Malay border north to Bangkok).

And a comfortable sleep it is. My cabin was stately, wood-panelled, snug, lush without being garish and filled with flowers and light, not to mention vintage marquetry and upholstery. The sofa bed and lounge chair converted to cushy single beds in the evening, and the ensuite included a full shower and marble sinks (no haughty signs needed). In the dining cars, one could chat with the sweet and smiling staff over fine dining that mixed the local with Provençal cuisine; our first spread was sakura ebi fricassee with black bone chicken soup and goose oil pilaf, with tropical panache for dessert.

From Singapore, we had 1,800 kilometres of Y-shaped travel to go, first to the Malaysian junction at Gemas, then right to the protected rain forest of the Taman Negara, then left along the west coast to Butterworth, and finally back down again to Singapore, all in all, a journey of four days and three nights. Along the way, I’d be experiencing, so the brochure assured me, “some of the most intoxicating places on Earth.” I took that as a sign to start things off in the bar car.

While the barman fixed my gin and tonic, I eyed an ancient-looking map on the wall. It gave a slightly cockeyed view of Southeast Asia (“The East Peninsula of India,” it read). Malaysia, outlined in green, hung from Thailand (here, still the Kingdom of Siam) like an unopened lily bud. I put my finger where I estimated the train to be, somewhere within the white, unmapped centre of the country, an anachronism down to the map’s date, 1755.

“That,” the barman said, leaning over the bar counter conspiratorially. “Is the most expensive thing on the train. One million dollars.”

“This map? A million?”

More from Southeast Asia: Singapore is a theme park for foodies

He nodded knowingly while I sipped my gin and tried to look unquestioning. Banana leaves were slapping at the windows, filtering the setting sun. I remained in the bar car, listening to the chatter of the passengers. “Awful lot of palms,” and “You don’t mind if I have another gin, do you dearie?” And “Look at them cattle!” when we passed a small herd of skinny, humpbacked zebus.

For all its advancements and agriculture – from the train, the country seemed at times entirely covered by oil palms – Malaysia lies close to the gnarled roots of nature. We alighted the first morning of our journey near the national park of Taman Negara, and were taken on a guided walk under the green canopy, the fronds above us meeting like eyelashes over the road, the path lined with palms like green fountains. We were primed for movement in the bush – it is one of the oldest rain forests in the world (more than 130 million years), with a menagerie of animals whose twisted familiarity enhance its primeval aura: the pig-like tapir, the bullish gaur, the catty civet and the minuscule mouse-deer. There is also black leopard, Malayan tiger, Asian elephant and a small population of Indigenous Betaq peoples. We didn’t encounter the latter – they are shy, our guide told us, but there were sightings of civets, hornbills, grey macaques, even a long-armed gibbon swinging in the trees.

Over that afternoon and into the night, we travelled from Taman Negara to Butterworth. From there we disembarked and ferried onto the island of Penang for a morning of free time before our return to Singapore.

The British influences on Malaysia are fast fading – China and Australia are the great systems in its orbit now – but the last shreds of the Empire still cling to Georgetown, a former colonial post on Penang that is a marvel of preservation, if a little rough in upkeep.

“There are three untouchable things in Malaysia,” a taxi driver in Georgetown told me. “Royals, race and religion.” The country is ethnopolitically complex, with a history of racial tension, but today the dominant races (Malay, Chinese and Indian) and religions (Islam, Buddhism, Christianity and Hinduism) live in relative harmony, and the country is peaceful and quite safe for a foreign visitor.

We happened to be driving down Harmony Street, when the driver asked me “Are you knowing, sir, that today is New Year’s Eve?”

I had one of those brief moments of panic – Good Lord, isn’t it April? Just how intoxicating has the trip been? I caught his smiling eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“We celebrate five new years in Malaysia,” he said. “And 387 festivals.” Hearing that, I felt it wasn’t peace that was improbable, but rather the fact they got anything done – and Penang is a hub of electronics manufacturing. “Today is Vaisakhi, isn’t it? Sikh new year. I will take you.”

And we were off, to the local Gurdwara, the Sikh temple, where Jasdev abandoned his taxi to sit and chat among the revellers as we ate the freely given dahl, paratha and chai.

Jasdev returned me to the ferry, to await passage back to the train station. When we parted, he placed his hand on his heart, and I mine. It is the graceful action for all Malaysian interactions. “I wish you a peaceful and prosperous voyage,” he said. Later, in my cabin, watching the sea recede and the Cameron Highlands loom ahead, it wasn’t gloom I felt at the prospect of returning to Singapore. Just the sense that all good journeys are over too soon.

• The Eastern & Oriental Express runs three- and six-night journeys throughout the year. Tickets start from $6,423 per person which includes off-train excursions, meals and hotel transfers.