Cloves, culture and cooking make Peninsular Malaysia a stand-out destination says Gillian Vine.
Mention Malaysia to a travel agent and, if you look the outdoors type, expect to have brochures thrust at you extolling nature tours in East Malaysia, part of the island of Borneo.
If you look less energetic, you'll probably be given information about blobbing out at a beachside resort at the tourist hot spot of Langkawi, the largest island in an archipelago close to Thailand in the north-west.
There is nothing wrong with either of those but, apart from a passing reference to the beaches of Penang - and maybe Legoland because it is handy to Singapore - the mainland (Peninsular Malaysia) is largely ignored.
There is a plus to this, for, except in Malacca, you are unlikely to see busloads of other tourists, making the region perfect for travellers who want something a little different at affordable prices.
I flew into the capital, Kuala Lumpur, and took a train into town, the easiest and cheapest (less than $14) way to go.
My hotel was opposite the station and handy to the national museum, where I spent an absorbing afternoon among exhibits ranging from exquisite jade to old railway engines.
Next morning, I considered taking a commuter train (about $1.50) out to the Batu Caves, one of the most famous Hindu shrines outside India, but I had been before and the monkeys rather freaked me, as they were somewhat aggressive.
Instead I opted for a quick look at some of KL's superb buildings, old and new.
Then a visit to Chinatown was a must, where there was the unexpected delight of seeing lion dancers performing, apparently celebrating the opening of a small shop.
Back at the station, I boarded the late afternoon service for the six-hour train journey to Butterworth, the jumping-off point for Georgetown, Penang.
Before I went, Malaysia's spice island, Penang, brought to mind the delight of clove-enhanced apple pie during the cold winters of my South Otago childhood.
Like a good apple pie, Penang is warm, beautiful to look at and delicious.
Georgetown was established by the British in 1786, giving the powerful East India Company a base from which to challenge the supremacy of the Dutch who had a virtual stranglehold on the region's spice trade.
Nutmeg and clove plants were sourced from the Spice Islands, now part of Indonesia, and by 1802, there were more than 19,000 nutmeg and 6250 clove trees recorded in Penang plantations.
How well many spices, not just cloves and nutmeg, grow here can be appreciated at the Tropical Spice Garden, which has a great selection of spice plants in its well-laid-out hillside property. Informative plant labelling adds to the appeal.
Not far away is the Tropical Fruit Farm, which boasts more than 250 types of tropical and subtropical fruits. Visitors can sample them and my only regret was missing the mango season, although the jackfruit almost made up for it.
In August 1838, a young Englishman arrived in Penang. Although his 17th birthday was still three days away, John Turnbull Thomson had been charged with surveying the large estates of relatives.
He later found fame in Singapore when he oversaw work on the Horsburgh lighthouse, a two-year effort that played havoc with his health.
As a result, he moved to New Zealand, reaching Dunedin in May 1856 to take up a position as chief surveyor of Otago.
He explored the region, surveyed Bluff and laid out Invercargill.
Thomson was also a painter.
His Penang watercolours show how little some things have changed in almost 180 years, notably St George's church (where he attended worship and was not impressed by the minister) and Wat Chaiya Mangalaram, a Thai temple famous for its 33m reclining Buddha.
The surveyor would not recognise, though, the scene he painted of the island's plains with areas cleared for nutmeg and clove plantations.
Presented to the Penang Museum by his great-grandson, Dr John Hall-Jones of Invercargill, the pleasant rural scene bears no resemblance to the present-day forest of high-rise buildings.
Changed, too, is the ascent of 735m Penang Hill.
Visitors now travel up the steep slope by rail, not in a sedan chair (dooly) carried by four porters.
I was mystified to learn that the hilltop had been a cool retreat for Europeans in the 19th century, as the day I was there, the temperature hit the low 30s, every bit as hot as in Georgetown 6km away.
The centre of Georgetown is little changed from Thomson's day, thanks to its Unesco World Heritage status.
The shop houses, temples and busy markets must be preserved, making it a great place to wander, buy inexpensive clothes or eat.
A free hop-on, hop-off bus runs around the fringes of the area.
On the edge of the historic precinct I find another Kiwi connection, the Eastern & Oriental (E & O) Hotel.
Developed in the 1880s by the three Sarkies brothers, some of whose descendants live in Dunedin, it is a welcoming place for the traveller who wants five-star comfort and elegance.
In retaining the 19th-century ambience, the current owners have added a new wing in the old style and they must be applauded for this sensitive approach to development.
In 1905, the Sarkies opened The Crag Hotel at the top of Penang Hill, but it has long been closed.
Given the steady increase in tourism in the region and the popularity of historic buildings like Singapore's Fort Canning as boutique hotels, reopening the near-derelict Crag Hotel complex must have appeal for an entrepreneur with deep pockets.
Penang's food reflects the various cultures - Chinese, Indian, Malay and Nonya (Malay-Chinese fusion).
Except at major hotels, meals are extremely cheap, even at famous restaurants like Hameediyah, established in 1907, where the beef rendang is a not-to-missed specialty.
For DIY fans, a morning at Nazlina Hussin's cooking school is a fascinating cultural experience that starts with participants breakfasting at an open-air stall and continues with a tour of the markets, buying food to cook for lunch.
Our group of six prepared rice in banana leaves (nasi lemak), chicken and coconut curry (laksa), then a dessert of sweet coconut-covered balls (buah melaka).
For those who fancy hawker-style food, the Red Garden offers so many choices it needs more than one visit to do it justice.
Located in Lebuh Leith (Leith St), behind the Genius carpark - does one have to be a genius to find a park, I wonder - it works on a simple system.
You wander around, order what you want from the various stalls, then find a place to sit among the crowds of locals.
Staff bring your food and you pay on delivery. There is only one danger, a tendency to order too much because everything is so tempting.
Thomson, whose writings record his immersion in the region's culture, would have been quite at home, even though food is now served on plastic plates, not banana leaves.
''If you don't put on weight in Penang, you haven't had a good time,'' one of the E & O staff says.
I could not agree more.
• Gillian Vine is a great-great-niece of John Turnbull Thomson and has a keen interest in his work in Malaysia and Singapore.
