Eleven days in Malaysia: up the west coast by train, eating the whole way

Dutch, built 1741 to 1753 with bricks brought from Zeeland, and still in use as an Anglican church. The gravestones in the floor predate the building.

The governor's residence and town hall, finished in 1660, and the oldest Dutch building left in Asia. The museum inside is worth an hour for the sultanate and Peranakan rooms.

A roofless shell at the top of the steps, where Francis Xavier lay for nine months before his body went to Goa. Go up from the surviving Portuguese gate at the bottom.

Tables come out along the west bank after dark. Nyonya laksa, otak-otak grilled in banana leaf, and a cold Tiger.

Start at nine on Heeren Street, where the merchant facades are, and work north through the lanes. Cheng Hoon Teng, the oldest working Chinese temple in the country, is two blocks over.

Three shophouses knocked together, owned by one family since 1861, and shown by guided tour only. Gilded screens, Victorian floor tiles, and a spy hole cut in the upstairs floor.

Chicken rice served as pressed balls rather than a plate, which started here and stayed. Go at eleven; the queue at noon is long.

On Pulau Melaka, ten minutes by Grab. Built in 2006 to appear to float, and the half hour before sunset over the strait is the whole reason to go.

The Kristang community's stalls by the water, run by descendants of Portuguese settlers who kept the surnames and the language. Sambal stingray and chilli squid, cash only.

Two hours, buses every 30 minutes, no booking needed except on public holidays. Buy at the counter and take the earliest you can face.

A cricket ground the British laid out, now the ceremonial centre of the country. The Sultan Abdul Samad building along its east side is the copper-domed Moorish pile on every postcard, and it is floodlit after dark.

The city's oldest surviving mosque, finished in 1909 on the sandbar where the Klang and Gombak meet, which is the muddy confluence Kuala Lumpur is named after. Robes at the door.

A street of charcoal grills and plastic stools that runs until two in the morning. Satay, grilled fish, and durian at the far end if you are feeling brave.

KTM Komuter to the end of the line, and the steps start at the station exit. The 43 metre gold statue at the bottom went up in 2006; the cave above has been a temple since the 1890s.

Masjid Negara, opened 1965, with a folded blue roof meant to read as an open umbrella and a 73 metre minaret. Deliberately modern rather than Middle Eastern; robes lent at the visitor door.

The Islamic Arts Museum's restaurant does a Lebanese and Malay menu under a painted dome and is much better than a museum cafe needs to be.

Twelve galleries of Qurans, textiles, armour and architectural models under Iranian-tiled domes. Two hours, and the scale models of the world's mosques on the top floor are the room people remember.

A South Indian temple with a gopuram of painted deities over the door, in the middle of Chinatown. Shoes off at the gate, and the morning is when it is busiest with worshippers.

The covered market street. Hokkien mee, claypot rice, and air mata kucing, a chilled longan drink poured from a copper vat at the corner.

Four stops on the LRT. Walk the lanes off Jalan Raja Muda Musa: timber houses on posts, a 1920s mosque, and the towers filling the end of every street. Nasi lemak from a stall for under two ringgit.

452 metres, finished in 1998, and the tallest building in the world until 2004. Book the skybridge online well ahead or take the free view from KLCC Park when the fountains come on.

Book on the KTMB app a few days out; there are only a handful of services and the good ones fill.

Walk out through the colonnade at the front and look up at the hotel windows above it. The neoclassical town hall faces you across the road.

Founded 1893 and closed to outsiders for its whole working life. The tour lasts an hour and is the best hour in Perak, and the guides are volunteers who grew up in these streets.

One of the two coffee shops that claim to have invented Ipoh white coffee, directly across the street from its rival. Beans roasted in margarine, served over condensed milk. Take an egg tart and pick a side.

Poached chicken, rice, and a plate of the fat local bean sprouts said to grow that way because of the limestone water. Two long-established places do it on the same street.

Half an hour south at Batu Gajah. Unfinished, unroofed and reputedly haunted, which is much of the local appeal. The Hindu temple the planter built for his workforce is in the next field.

The kampung at the foot of the cave hills has a row of Chinese coffee shops doing noodles and yong tau foo. Cheap, plain and exactly right.

The newer and calmer of the two, a long cavern of Buddhas opening at the far end onto a landscaped garden ringed by cliffs. Free, and usually near empty on a weekday.

Three temples in a row on the other side of the same hill, thick with joss smoke, with a tortoise pond behind. The reclining Buddha in the first chamber is the one people photograph.

Trolleys from six in the morning, then two hours on the train and ten minutes on the ferry, which docks at the edge of the old town.

The oldest Chinese temple on the island, dedicated to Kuan Yin, thick with smoke from the giant joss sticks outside. Busiest on the first and fifteenth of the lunar month.

Built by Tamil Muslim traders at the start of the 1800s, later rebuilt in Mughal style with a dome and one tall minaret. The office by the gate lends robes and will walk you round for nothing.

White, Georgian and completely out of place, finished in 1818 by convict labour. The rotunda in the churchyard is a memorial to Francis Light, who founded the settlement.

Stalls set up on the pavement after dark. Char kway teow from the charcoal wok and wan tan mee from the cart, about eight ringgit a plate.

Bus 204 from Komtar. Twenty minutes up through the covered market stalls to the pagoda, and an inclined lift up to the 30 metre bronze Kuan Yin above it for a few ringgit.

The funicular leaves from Air Itam, a short hop from the temple, and takes about ten minutes. The Habitat at the top is a rainforest trail with a canopy walkway if you want another hour up there.

The stall at the foot of the temple steps has been doing the sour fish and tamarind soup since the 1950s and the locals queue for it.

The big sea front hawker centre, three kilometres from the old town. Rojak, oyster omelette and cendol, and it fills up after seven.

The granite gate off Cannon Square is easy to walk past. An hour inside, and the carving on the roof beams is what the entrance fee is for.

Indigo blue, 38 rooms, five courtyards and a UNESCO conservation award in 2000. Tours at set times in the late morning and afternoon; turn up fifteen minutes before one.

Rice with several curries ladled over it, an Indian Muslim invention that Penang does better than anywhere. Point at what you want and let them flood the plate.

The old Armenian merchants' street, now craft shops, coffee and the best of the murals. The children on a bicycle are at the Lebuh Armenian end and there is usually a small queue in front of them.

A star-shaped fort with a garden inside, built on the landing spot and never once fired at an enemy. Twenty minutes, and the sea wall beside it is the best last view of the strait.

Assam laksa if you want sour, char kway teow if you want smoke, and a cendol afterwards. Under twenty ringgit for both and a drink.

Grab to Penang International takes half an hour. For Thailand, cross to Butterworth and take the train north, changing at the border at Padang Besar.