Nothing is done by half on Pangkor Laut

Often overshadowed by its neighbours - Thailand to the north and Indonesia to the south - Malaysia is a geographically curious country with its two halves divided by 640 miles of the South China Sea. However, this unique position means that it benefits from the stunning coral-white beaches of the Thai coast, and boasts a Noah's ark of colourful fauna associated with the Indonesian archipelago below.

I was driven to Estate One, my home for the week, a secluded network of pavilions set on a private crescent-shaped white sand beach. The wooden and stone living room looked almost temple-like and stood sentry over a pristine infinity pool that yawned across the entire width of the plot, making the most of the sea view. It was here I was greeted by my first feathered friends, a black and white hornbill scampering through the treetops while its youngsters bounced along the branches behind. I soon found that this strange and exotic bird has a call that manages to be both shrill and hollow, but combined with the percussive wash of the waves, provides a soothing soundtrack.

The best way to see the island is by boat; the hotel owns a luxury yacht, aboard which you are invited to sail around its circumference, stopping off at neighbouring islands for snorkelling, or stopping in the middle of the Malacca Straits to fish. Along the horizon I watched trawlers out in search of snapper, grouper and squid, all of which was served up by my private chef and in the hotel's Japanese, Chinese, fusion fine dining, fish and Western restaurants. I particularly enjoyed the Tom Yam steamboat, a sort of hotpot, at the Feast Village in which one dunks fresh lobster, noodles and soft shell crab into a bubbling pot of hot and sour soup. The food on the island is exceptional if you have a taste for fragrant and zingy Asian fare, and if you don't the chefs are adaptable. Staying in The Estates (as opposed to a stilt house or a treetop villa), I also had a driver and butler on call, and every morning began with a breakfast of omelette or scrambled eggs, pastries, and Nasi Lemak (coconut rice with beef), a delicious dinner option, but I couldn't get into the habit of eating something so blow-your-head-off spicy first thing.

Opposite the island is Pangkor, from where most of the staff commute by ferry each day. The 20,000-person parent island is worth a visit for the bustling centre with its dried fish markets and freshly stretched noodles. Malaysia is a mixture of three cultures: Malay, Indian and Chinese, and nowhere are all three more visible than when they are zooming through the market on mopeds, the most popular means of transport. Under British rule between the 18th and 20th centuries, Malaya was one of the Empire's most profitable colonies, being the world's largest producer of tin and, later, rubber. The British brought in the Chinese to assist with mining the tin and Indians to tap the rubber, bringing about the melting pot of cultures now officially observed as Malaysians. The country is 60 per cent Muslim and mosques and Taoist temples are dotted all over.

Back on Pangkor Laut you can be as busy or as lazy as you like. Cookery courses, fishing trips, water-skiing, sunset cruises and jungle walks are just a few of the activities on offer. I couldn't resist the last of these as I had heard about the brilliant resident naturalist Uncle Yip, a university professor who has written a book on the island's flora and fauna. He took me along the jungle trail, pointing out fan palms and mango trees and a lurid green baby viper hanging menacingly at eye level. After half an hour's uphill walking we came to dense virgin rainforest with creeping vines, termite armies burrowing their way through anything organic and bearded macaque monkeys chattering overhead. The trail ends on the island's best beach, the bleached white Emerald Bay, which has a great cocktail bar and volleyball field. By now thoroughly bitten by mosquitos and dripping with sweat, I dived straight in to the sea, which took the sting out of all the niggly bites, just as wise old Uncle Yip had told me it would.