The Langkawi of today is not the Langkawi of yesteryear when it was first developed. It’s decidedly more edgy, urbane and cosmopolitan. Hopefully, it will all end well.

A Russian restaurant called Soviet Union serving borsch (beetroot soup). Tanned, blonde girls in neon bikinis shopping for sarongs. Trendy boutiques, resorts and modish cafes catering to niche markets. This is Langkawi?

Was I really in Langkawi?

Less than a month ago, I flew to the island for a weekend break. Having been a regular visitor for more than 15 years, I hadn’t paid much attention to its “progress”. Previously preferring to stay at the island’s alluring larger resorts, I had hardly ventured out. Furthermore, Langkawi’s new “attractions” weren’t compelling enough to drag me away from its gorgeous, sandy beaches.

However, on my last two trips, for a change I chose to stay in small boutique hotels. These private and intimate places obviously do not have as many guests; the focus is either on old restored Malaysian houses or on rainforest-wrapped cubic spaces.

Sure, there’d be a pool or a games room or a restaurant, but nothing much more than that. This time around, as part of a yoga retreat, I stayed at the self-contained Ambong-Ambong Langkawi Rainforest Retreat built into the side of a steep hill.

As it’s located just minutes away from Langkawi’s main vein, the popular Pantai Cenang beach, and without its own restaurant, I was forced outside to seek sustenance as soon as I got there.

In search of a late lunch, I stumbled upon Troppo Co in a strip of restaurants and cafes just a short walk away. It served great coffee and large “build-yourself” sandwiches, with several fresh salads to choose from. Strangely, though, no desserts.

After the hearty lunch, I ambled along the sinuous rows of shops and eateries on both sides of the main road when I was suddenly reminded of similar strips in Thailand. Pantai Cenang is beginning to look like Phuket 25 years ago.

The following night’s dinner was at the Fat Cupid, another fab find up the road, set slightly inland. And at the La Pari Pari Resort, the restaurant served delicious local and Western favourites and fortifying lemon-grass mojitos. On that Saturday evening, the place was packed with both people from far and near – eating, drinking and simply chilling.

Yes, the island is changing.

Almost two decades ago, when I first used to visit Langkawi, it was just beginning to wake up from its sleepy state. The beach resorts were mostly linked to big chain hotels, with enough rooms to fill a few hundred guests and a buffet spread that held you hostage in the dining room all morning.

One New Year’s Eve, the pool was packed. The deck chairs surrounding the Olympic-sized oblong were a sea of white towels, a state of pre-booked seats. Retreating to the poolside bar was the only alternative; not a bad place at all to spend the last hours of the year.

The highlight of those early trips was dinner at a particularly quirky restaurant, run by two young men. Its name escapes me now, but many wonderful meals and bottles of wine still stay in my mind. Then it was one of the first East-West fusion restaurants, long before such concepts were even considered.

The decor was sheer chiffon and pretty fairy lights, the room lit up by scented candle flames and soft incantations of world music. Needless to say, the two gracious hosts contributed generously to every evening’s merriment.

Nevertheless, I still enjoyed my recent stays, having outgrown the holiday expectations of old. The resorts I chose to stay in weren’t as luxurious or as plush as before, but their modern, more idiosyncratic, appeal more than made up for that.

New building on the island isn’t as rampant as that seen in our country’s other top-line destinations. Although rubbish is still strewn over the streets, exacerbated by irregular collection. Little food stalls and beach bars still jostle for space with water-sport enthusiasts and operators.

So do I like it better now?

Langkawi, when I first used to go there, was a charming blend of old-world hospitality in modern, expedient resorts. The islanders, whenever you met them, were always friendly and had plenty of time for a chat. With the island’s limited diversions and duty-free status, there wasn’t much to do on the Andaman Sea’s 99-island archipelago except rest and relax.

Now there is an interesting mix of people living there: a clutch of expatriates retiring in the sun and Nepali waiters busying themselves with their mobile phones; city-bred Malaysians escaping urban life and its stresses; native islanders starting small-holding businesses.

Langkawi seems to have got an edge, more international and right now not entirely unpleasant. As long as rapacious greed doesn’t infect the island, it is safe and you can find lots to do. Try that borsch – or carry on relaxing.

> Delighting in dead ends, Jacqueline Pereira seeks unexpected encounters to counter the outmoded. Find her on Facebook at Jacqueline-Pereira-Writing-on or e-mail star2@thestar.com.my.

• AirAsia X offers free tickets to any destination for initial public offering to retail investors
• Cyclone takes the heat for hot weather
• If you want to go far work early and hard on personal branding
• Doc held for posing as cop to extort businessman
• Allianz aims for RM150mil in new premiums
• Couple upset over baby’s death
• Malaysia's I-Bhd and Thailand's CPN in mall joint venture with GDV of RM580mil
• From tomorrow, city cabbies can pick up passengers from KLIA
• Najib wants Chinese in Cabinet
• Todd was under treatment for depression, public inquiry told