It’s a luxurious hotel that earns each of its five stars.
Five stars hotels aren’t for me, though. The decadence requires a sensibility I lack, and I cherish some comforts and amenities not graded on a star rating.
The High Cost of Five Stars
Unlike most hotels, breakfast isn’t included with a room at the Shangri-La.
The breakfast buffet costs an additional RM 70 ($25) per person per day.
A Jade Circle Member gets free breakfast, but it takes 25 paid nights to do so.
So, for the first 25 days, we bought our breakfast at nearby grocery stores and coffee shops.
Once SB got the Jade Circle membership, the breakfast's high cost was evident. The selection and quality is greater than any other hotel in which we’ve lived.
The Shangri-La breakfast has two, TWO chocolate fountains, one milk and the other dark.
It has sections dedicated to European, Malaysian, Chinese, and Japanese tastes. To illustrate the point, they have separate stations for omelets, ramen noodles, and sushi!
The variety is awesome, and I feel humbled by the amount of food they serve. Sometimes, it’s too much. But given some of the clientele, the breakfast might not be flashy enough.
During the work week, the Shangri-La fills with people visiting on business.
Most don suits and other formal wear to sip tea in the lobby and talk business strategy, while I mope around like Shaggy from Scooby Doo, in soccer shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops.
Important meetings happen constantly in the Shangri-La lobby, and they will be happening through the apocalypse.
Business is a high powered game at the Shangri-La. At the front of the hotel, there's always at least one high-end sports car, mostly Lamborghini and Ferraris. The cars broadcast an “image of success” to the outside world before most guests hit the entrance.
The lobby buzzes with meetings and people working the room, while I crush neon-colored candy on my iPod or read trashy science fiction novels at a nearby table.
Everyone has an air of importance, a reason for being there, while I use the Lounge for its intended purpose, to lounge (at least until my wife gets home, then I pretend I had a busy, productive day).
The IRS needs to clear my “Man of Leisure” employment status so I can write-off my bar tab and create business cards.
Unlike the Wan Jia Hotel in China, the cost of laundry at the Shangri-La is impractical. RM 30 ($10) to wash a single T-shirt!
For the first time in my life, I wash loads of bathtub laundry on a regular basis. (I know, “first world problems.”)
I recommend everyone wash a load of laundry by hand. Seriously. It builds character.
It takes a lot of energy to soap, soak, rinse, wring, and hang. Now, I can conceptualize how much energy our washing machines and driers must use. And my level of exertion is probably a fraction of the machines’!
Thankfully, the hotel provides a clothesline, because I don’t have the lungs for (blow) drying.
The variety is awesome, and I feel humbled by the amount of food they serve. Sometimes, it’s too much. But given some of the clientele, the breakfast might not be flashy enough.
A Fish Out of Water
During the work week, the Shangri-La fills with people visiting on business.
Most don suits and other formal wear to sip tea in the lobby and talk business strategy, while I mope around like Shaggy from Scooby Doo, in soccer shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops.
Important meetings happen constantly in the Shangri-La lobby, and they will be happening through the apocalypse.
Business is a high powered game at the Shangri-La. At the front of the hotel, there's always at least one high-end sports car, mostly Lamborghini and Ferraris. The cars broadcast an “image of success” to the outside world before most guests hit the entrance.
The lobby buzzes with meetings and people working the room, while I crush neon-colored candy on my iPod or read trashy science fiction novels at a nearby table.
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| Designated Networking Area |
The IRS needs to clear my “Man of Leisure” employment status so I can write-off my bar tab and create business cards.
A One-Man Laundry Machine
Unlike the Wan Jia Hotel in China, the cost of laundry at the Shangri-La is impractical. RM 30 ($10) to wash a single T-shirt!
For the first time in my life, I wash loads of bathtub laundry on a regular basis. (I know, “first world problems.”)
I recommend everyone wash a load of laundry by hand. Seriously. It builds character.
It takes a lot of energy to soap, soak, rinse, wring, and hang. Now, I can conceptualize how much energy our washing machines and driers must use. And my level of exertion is probably a fraction of the machines’!
Thankfully, the hotel provides a clothesline, because I don’t have the lungs for (blow) drying.
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| Nomex suck to hand wash. |
The Real Value of Five Stars
The Shangri-La’s real value, however, is in its attention to detail and the few free amenities it offers.
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| A Christmas Tree of Cakes |
Local flora and fauna hide the pool from the city to create a more relaxed atmosphere.
Even housekeeping is beyond exceptional at the Shangri-La. The housekeepers’ attention to detail is eerie.
Example, I drink a lot of water and eat fresh fruit on a regular basis. Most hotels in Asia give guests two to four bottles of complimentary water, because the tap isn’t drinkable.
After the second or third week, the housekeepers left us six bottles of water AND fruit. Other hotels don’t provide any complimentary fruit.
It’s a welcomed surprise, but that means they monitored our water and fruit consumption.
They even fold the clothes left on the floor, which threatens my job security. Three-quarters of my job as a househusband is picking up and folding my wife's wardrobe off the floor.
Housekeeping’s keen attention to detail spoils me and makes me soft.
The Human Factor
Sadly, there is no Wan Wan at the Shangri-La. That kind of personal relationship is difficult here.
The staff is numerous, and guests stay and leave so quick that to form any real connection or communication is impossible or, at best, awkward.
It reminds me of this quote from Fight Club:
Between check-in and check-out, single-serving friendships are all we get.
That’s not entirely true, though. In the last few weeks, I befriended two guys who work at the poolside bar, Guna and Ammar.
At first, Guna was skeptical when I asked about his weekend or how he liked working at the Shangri-La. His answers were short and guarded, and he hurried back to his post at the bar before saying too much.
Eventually, he eased and opened up. Instead of polite, company-approved responses, he elaborated about his days off and how difficult work could get.
One day, he even treated me to a orange juice and cappuccino just to chat. It’s the friendliest interaction I’ve had in KL.
He introduced me to Ammar a couple days later.
Ammar, too, dropped the act quick. He’s from Kerteh, a small town on the east coast where we might be sent next. He was honest about his hometown.
“Oh, it’s very cheap. You can eat for three ringgits and be full… There’s not a lot to do, no drinking, but it’s a quiet place.”
“Do you miss it,” I asked.
“Yes and no. I can’t find good work there. Here, there’s lots more to do.”
At times, Ammar seems disenchanted by KL. He said it’s hard to meet women and make relationships here because most people care about what car their partner drives or the clothes they wear.
“I don’t need many clothes. I work too much. I wear mostly this. I don’t have a BMW or Volvo. I drive my motorbike everywhere. That’s all I need!”
I sympathize but didn’t want to cheapen our friendship by saying as much.
Ernest Hemingway said that to make friends at hotels all one had to do was tip. He said those were genuine friendships abroad.
Hemingway was wrong in my opinion. Yes, some interactions are improved by a tip or over-paying, and I do both cautiously. When it comes to genuine, friendly interactions, however, I always judge it by the “open home” test.
Would I open my home to this person? If they came to America in the future, would I let them stay with us?
For Guna, Ammar, Wan Wan, and a few of other people we meet at hotels on the road, the answer is a resounding “Yes, absolutely! It would be an honor to repay some of their kindness.
We chose to stay at the Shangri-La and aren’t paying for it, so I have no right to complain.
It is nice and luxurious. For short stays, it’s probably perfect. As a longer term home, however, I was happier at the starless Wan Jia Hotel in "small town" China. It was less expensive to live there, had character, and felt less formal but still friendlier.
Five stars isn’t a guarantee. There are intangible factors more important to me than a star or website rating. And that’s something we’ll have to consider when selecting our next home.
It reminds me of this quote from Fight Club:
Everywhere I travel, tiny life. Single-serving sugar, single-serving cream, single pat of butter. The microwave Cordon Bleu hobby kit. Shampoo-conditioner combos, sample-packaged mouthwash, tiny bars of soap. The people I meet on each flight? They're single-serving friends. Between take-off and landing, we have our time together. That’s all we get.
Between check-in and check-out, single-serving friendships are all we get.
That’s not entirely true, though. In the last few weeks, I befriended two guys who work at the poolside bar, Guna and Ammar.
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| Guna and me. |
Eventually, he eased and opened up. Instead of polite, company-approved responses, he elaborated about his days off and how difficult work could get.
One day, he even treated me to a orange juice and cappuccino just to chat. It’s the friendliest interaction I’ve had in KL.
He introduced me to Ammar a couple days later.
Ammar, too, dropped the act quick. He’s from Kerteh, a small town on the east coast where we might be sent next. He was honest about his hometown.
“Oh, it’s very cheap. You can eat for three ringgits and be full… There’s not a lot to do, no drinking, but it’s a quiet place.”
“Do you miss it,” I asked.
“Yes and no. I can’t find good work there. Here, there’s lots more to do.”
At times, Ammar seems disenchanted by KL. He said it’s hard to meet women and make relationships here because most people care about what car their partner drives or the clothes they wear.
“I don’t need many clothes. I work too much. I wear mostly this. I don’t have a BMW or Volvo. I drive my motorbike everywhere. That’s all I need!”
I sympathize but didn’t want to cheapen our friendship by saying as much.
 |
| Shangri-La Poolside |
Ernest Hemingway said that to make friends at hotels all one had to do was tip. He said those were genuine friendships abroad.
Hemingway was wrong in my opinion. Yes, some interactions are improved by a tip or over-paying, and I do both cautiously. When it comes to genuine, friendly interactions, however, I always judge it by the “open home” test.
Would I open my home to this person? If they came to America in the future, would I let them stay with us?
For Guna, Ammar, Wan Wan, and a few of other people we meet at hotels on the road, the answer is a resounding “Yes, absolutely! It would be an honor to repay some of their kindness.
What’s in a Star Rating?
We chose to stay at the Shangri-La and aren’t paying for it, so I have no right to complain.
It is nice and luxurious. For short stays, it’s probably perfect. As a longer term home, however, I was happier at the starless Wan Jia Hotel in "small town" China. It was less expensive to live there, had character, and felt less formal but still friendlier.
Five stars isn’t a guarantee. There are intangible factors more important to me than a star or website rating. And that’s something we’ll have to consider when selecting our next home.
Nice blog post Tom. Just curious - how far does SB travel to work? How does she get there?
ReplyDeleteHave you been up in the Petronas Towers yet?
I need to get better at writing about SB.
DeleteShe works mostly in an office across the street from our hotel.
Some days she heads to a fabrication shop just on the outskirts of KL. She's had some really cool cultural encounters, but it's so hard to get her to sit down and write about them.
We didn't go up the Petronas Towers, but I did buy my groceries in the basement.
Another 5 star posting!
ReplyDelete