It’s funny how we like to believe that we choose our destinations. We open maps, compare flights, make sensible little plans—and then one random detail quietly points us somewhere we never seriously considered going.
Kuala Lumpur and Singapore were exactly that kind of trip for me. Neither city had been sitting on some sacred bucket list, waiting for its dramatic moment. Kuala Lumpur had entered my life much earlier in the form of a wooden 3D puzzle of the Petronas Towers.
I never finished assembling it.
For years, the most recognisable landmark in Kuala Lumpur remained somewhere at home in pieces, which should probably have been a warning. Instead, it became one of those strange coincidences that only starts looking meaningful after the plane tickets are booked.
And this time, my father was coming with me.
On the morning of 7 December 2019, Riga Airport was unusually empty and decorated with Christmas trees. The trip had barely started, the real Petronas Towers were still several thousand kilometres away, and the wooden ones were still unfinished at home.
Apparently, Kuala Lumpur had decided that if I could not build it, I could at least come and look at it properly.
Riga to Amsterdam: Christmas Trees and an Accidental Bunk Bed
I will spare you the details of our “fun” father–daughter journey to Riga Airport. Let’s just say that travelling with family can produce material before anyone has even shown a passport.
By the time we arrived, the airport looked surprisingly festive. Christmas trees had been planted throughout the terminal, while the terminal itself was almost empty. It was the morning of 7 December, yet Riga Airport felt as if someone had decorated it beautifully and then forgotten to invite the passengers.
Our first flight was with airBaltic to Amsterdam.
Perhaps I am slightly biased because airBaltic is Latvia’s national airline—or as close to one as quotation marks permit—but this particular flight was nearly perfect. I was sitting in 31F, almost at the back of the plane, and there were only around 40 passengers on board.
Forty.
That is not a full flight. That is a private gathering with assigned seating.
Almost everyone had enough empty seats to create their own improvised bunk bed. The crew even gave me a pillow, and I spent nearly the entire two-hour flight stretched out horizontally.
No upgrade. No complicated travel trick. Just an empty row, a pillow and the rare aviation miracle of nobody appearing at the last moment to claim the seat beside me.
Some journeys begin with champagne in business class. Mine began near the tail of an airBaltic plane, sleeping across three economy seats like a very satisfied house cat.
Honestly, I have had worse starts.
Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur: An Excellent Airport and a Questionable Comfort Seat
Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur: An Excellent Airport and a Questionable Comfort Seat
As a frequent traveller, I have learned to appreciate airports that understand what people actually need between flights: somewhere to sit, somewhere to eat and somewhere to charge a phone without crouching beside a suspicious socket on the floor.
Schiphol understood the assignment.
It was enormous and slightly maze-like, but it was a well-equipped maze. Food was easy to find, charging points were plentiful, and the seating areas were designed for actual tired humans rather than decorative airport furniture. Some spots even allowed you to sit, eat and charge everything at once—which should not feel luxurious, yet airports regularly manage to make basic comfort seem like an exclusive benefit.
I left Amsterdam thinking that Schiphol was an airport I would happily use for future transfers.
Then I boarded the KLM flight to Kuala Lumpur.
I had paid extra for an Economy Comfort seat. The name promised comfort. The seat appeared not to have received that information.
The aircraft felt outdated, the entertainment system belonged to another era, and there was no footrest. Because I was in the first row beside the emergency exit, both the table and screen were stored inside the armrests. I expected that arrangement. What I did not expect was for the seat itself to feel like a kitchen chair with an aviation certificate.
The crew were polite, although an off-duty crew member travelling home seemed to receive rather more attention and comfort than the rest of us. Not a disaster, just one of those small details you notice while sitting in a seat that charged extra for an adjective.
I cannot fairly judge the regular food because I had ordered a lactose-free meal due to my allergies. My portion was simple, as special meals often are, and I understood why the options were limited.
What bothered me was not the service or the food. It was paying specifically for comfort and then spending the flight trying to locate it.
Schiphol had taken care of tired travellers without making a performance out of it. KLM had printed “Comfort” on the booking and apparently considered the matter settled.
Arriving in Kuala Lumpur: First, Find the Luggage
After a long flight, nobody lands with profound thoughts about personal growth.
The first question is always: Is my luggage here?
The second: Is it still in one piece?
Only after both questions have been answered can the brain move on to the next problem—how exactly are we getting to the hotel?
We had two obvious options: take the KLIA Ekspres to KL Sentral and continue from there, or order a Grab directly to EXSIM Expressionz Professional Suites at Tun Razak.
In December 2019, the train cost 55 MYR per person. A Grab taking both of us directly to the accommodation cost 65 MYR in total.
There was nothing left to debate.
Instead of paying more to transport ourselves to a central station and then solving the remaining part of the journey with luggage attached, we put everything into one car and went straight to the hotel. After airports, two flights and a paid comfort seat that had treated comfort as a rumour, door-to-door transport won without a fight.
The Grab ride was easy, affordable and comfortable. For two people arriving with luggage, it was the most practical decision of the day. Unfortunately, it delivered us efficiently to the least practical decision of the trip.
Expressionz Suites: The View Was High, My Patience Was Not
We had booked four nights at EXSIM Expressionz Professional Suites. On paper, it looked promising: a suite, swimming pools, a jacuzzi, a gym and those polished photographs that make every high-rise stay appear suspiciously peaceful.
Then we arrived and began discovering the footnotes one inconvenience at a time.
The first problem was the location.
The building was far enough from central Kuala Lumpur that going anywhere required planning. There were no useful shops or grocery stores immediately around us, and the nearest shopping mall was roughly a 30-minute walk away.
Thirty minutes does not sound dramatic until you attempt it in a city where pedestrian infrastructure occasionally feels like an unfinished group project.
Pavements disappeared, bus stops were not conveniently close, and crossing large roads required far more courage than buying bread should demand. We quickly accepted that walking was not going to be our primary transport system and began using Grab every day.
Thankfully, Grab was inexpensive in 2019 and worked well. We reached the sights without wrestling with bus routes or volunteering ourselves as tribute at a road crossing. Still, cheap taxis do not magically make an inconvenient hotel location convenient. They simply make it less painful.
Then there was breakfast.
It was served on the eighth floor in an open cafeteria, with the kitchen area also exposed. I am sure someone finds the smell of hot bacon grease uplifting in the morning. I do not need it settling into my clothes before I have even decided what the day is doing.
The entire setup did not inspire enough confidence for us to keep experimenting. Breakfast became something better found elsewhere.
Check-in had already supplied its own small surprise: a security deposit.
I do not object to deposits. Hotels and apartments need protection against guests who apparently regard kettles, towels and furniture as complimentary souvenirs. What I object to is discovering an extra charge at the desk when it was not clearly stated during booking.
A rule is not the problem. A rule appearing only after arrival is.The pools brought the next round of creative interpretation.
The advertising showed two pools and a jacuzzi. The pool included with our stay was the children’s pool on the eighth floor, beside the same open cafeteria. Its view was mainly the surrounding suburbs—not terrible, but certainly less dramatic than the photographs had encouraged me to imagine.
The infinity pool was on the 48th floor and cost an additional 10 MYR per person, per day. The gym followed the same paid-access arrangement.
Again, 10 MYR was not a financial catastrophe. The problem was how it worked. If you went all the way upstairs expecting a swim, you could not simply pay at the entrance. You had to return to reception on the first floor, pay there and then make the journey back up.
Nothing says effortless hotel relaxation quite like commuting vertically for permission to enter the pool.
The jacuzzi completed the performance by either not working or producing cold water when persuaded to cooperate. Technically, it existed. Emotionally, it had left the building.
None of these problems alone would have ruined the stay. Together, they created the feeling that every attractive feature came with a condition, an extra payment or a small administrative scavenger hunt.
I had paid for a suite and expected the facilities presented with it, and was not asking for special treatment, free luxuries or a parade through reception. I simply wanted the booking description and the actual stay to recognise each other.
For the same money—or less—we could have stayed closer to KLCC, with easier access to shops, food and the city itself. The suite gave us a place to sleep. Grab gave us a way out.
Guess which service earned my loyalty?
Apparently, We Were Not Tired Enough
By 18:00, after two flights, one deeply theoretical Economy Comfort seat and the slow discovery that our suite came with more conditions than facilities, going to bed would have been perfectly reasonable.
So naturally, we went exploring.
That was how we found Intermark Mall—our holy grail, although our standards at that moment were not complicated. We wanted food. We wanted a supermarket. We wanted somewhere that did not require another conversation about deposits, pool fees or broken jacuzzis.
Intermark delivered.
The food court was enormous, the ground floor had a supermarket, and for the first time since arriving, we could simply wander around and decide what we wanted without organising a Grab escape route first.
Then Father ordered a durian milkshake and started poking me to try the chendol with durian.
I tried it.
What can I say? I am not a fan of chendol. I am not a fan of durian. Combining them did not produce a sudden spiritual awakening—just two things I disliked sharing one metal bowl.
Final Thoughts
So, that was our glamorous arrival in Kuala Lumpur.
We had not seen the Petronas Towers. We had not explored the city. We had barely escaped our suite long enough to find Intermark Mall, where Father happily drank his durian milkshake and poked me into trying chendol with durian.
I disliked both the chendol and the durian. At least Kuala Lumpur could never accuse me of refusing to try.
The day ended without postcard moments or profound discoveries—just two tired travellers finding food, arguing with unfamiliar flavours and postponing the actual sightseeing until tomorrow.
Sometimes a trip does not begin when the plane lands. It begins after you have slept, recovered your patience and learned not to accept dessert recommendations from your father.
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