The waters were not a sparkling turquoise
The sand can barely be said to be powdery soft
And I didn't get my hammock afterall.
I couldn't see the fiery sun dipping into the horizon
The cut-throat price for the hotel barely seemed justified
And we found out that the sand at the hotel's beach was imported.
Not unlike Sentosa.
Yet, Langkawi has a quiet charm about it.
The electic mishmash of landscapes.
Cows grazing give way to flooded rice paddies
Which in turn house the rusty frame of a mutilated van
All these, with the cloudy mountains standing watch in the background.
Silent.
Almost magic.
Like the island itself.
Thriving yet unspoiled by tourism.
With a rustic beauty that doesn't quite hit you in the face
But instead seeps through the subconscious like mulled wine.
And when you do discover it
It quite simply takes your breath away.
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