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Hospitality Net
6 days ago
- Business
- Hospitality Net
Dusit Princess Melaka celebrates grand opening
Dusit Princess Melaka, Dusit International's debut property in Malaysia, celebrated its official grand opening on 29 May 2025 — marking an exciting milestone in Melaka's evolving hospitality landscape and introducing a new standard of upscale Thai-inspired hospitality to the state. The hotel also unveiled one of the largest meeting and event spaces in Melaka, further enhancing the city's appeal as a regional MICE destination. The grand opening comes at a pivotal moment for Melaka, which continues to experience strong tourism growth. In 2024, the city welcomed over 15 million visitors — a 74% increase year-on-year — reinforcing its emergence as one of Southeast Asia's most dynamic travel destinations. The Melaka State Government has extended its Visit Melaka Year campaign through 2026, aligning with the national Visit Malaysia 2026 initiative, which aims to attract 35.6 million tourist arrivals. Strategically located in the heart of the UNESCO World Heritage City, the 296-room upscale Dusit Princess Melaka blends modern elegance with rich local heritage, offering guests unobstructed views of the city and the Straits of Melaka. With five-star facilities, contemporary comforts, and Dusit's signature brand of Thai-inspired gracious hospitality, the property brings a fresh and distinctive offering to the local hotel landscape — catering to the needs of today's business and leisure travellers while celebrating the cultural soul of Melaka. Among its lifestyle facilities are the deepest swimming pool in the state, a fully equipped 24-hour gym, and distinctive dining venues, including Zest Restaurant, Long Feng Chinese Restaurant, and the vibrant Famosa Lounge. Spanning 774 sq m and featuring full LED screen capabilities and versatile room configurations, the hotel's meeting and event space is tailored to meet the demands of high-profile conferences, weddings, and private events. Guests also have access to a range of curated local experiences that offer an immersive journey through the city's sights, flavours, and culture. Hotel website
Indian Express
23-05-2025
- Indian Express
For me, Ahmedabad is a city of magic — and contrasts
Lately, whenever I write about Ahmedabad, for some strange reason, the image of Leonardo da Vinci's drawing of The Vitruvian Man comes to mind. I cannot stop thinking about it in the context of the outline of the city. I have always been intrigued by this drawing, as it depicts a man inscribed within a circle and a square. It is the visual representation of the human body in harmony with the environment. This is how I used to feel in Ahmedabad, which was then similar to an overgrown village. The scale was just right for me to fit into the city, as its axis resembled an aerial-hoop-performer of a circus. I always felt that the hoop was my tool and I spun, swung, rolled closer to the boundary walls of the city. I could touch it and easily navigate the city. I just had to extend my hand and I was part of the city. In other words, it was my world. For me, Ahmedabad is a city of magic, where dargahs walk, minarets shake; and an eternal light glows in goddess Laxmi's gokhlo. The walls of the city no longer exist, but it has majestic darwazas, which were once connected to the fortified city, symbolic of city, community, society and family. Our ancestral house was close to Delhi Darwaza, which has a special place in my heart. Ahmedabad is a city of contrasts. It has ancient monuments and institutes built by well-known architects from India and abroad. The traffic moves along with camels, cows and elephants, as langurs sit like sentinels on garden walls, and bee-eaters, sunbirds and peafowl add a splash of colour to the city of stories. It was a city with a vibrant living heritage. I was elated when it was declared a UNESCO World Heritage City in 2017. Sadly, in recent times, it lacks upkeep and preservation. The river Sabarmati still flows on the outskirts of the city, though. In the Sixties, when it flooded, we carried big-black umbrellas and stood at the bridge, soaking wet, just to see the gushing water, known as ghoda-pur in Gujarati, likened to galloping horses. Then, everything changed. Several bridges were built across the river. I was too young then to understand that the bridges would expand the city and make it bigger. Soon after, our family also moved to the new city. During this period, I had never imagined that one day, Ahmedabad would become one of India's biggest cities, what they now call a smart city. Soon, the innumerable textile mills and their tall chimneys disappeared from our horizon, Ahmedabad transformed into a cement-concrete-glass-jungle of highrises. Until that point, I could take an auto and reach the various nooks and corners of the city. But soon, Ahmedabad began to grow in leaps and bounds to the west, devouring villages, fields, farm lands and all that came in its way, like a giant octopus. It transformed into a large unplanned city, the skyline a jagged edge of highrises, commercial complexes and shops with brand names, standing shoulder to shoulder with elite educational institutes. Slowly, I realised that I had begun refusing invitations to events that were not close enough to reach on the pretext that I did not have a vehicle and it was difficult to find cabs or autos to commute to and from my home. But in my heart, I knew these were excuses. To break this block, I accepted a dinner invitation at a friend's place. I reached late because, predictably, the cab took a long time to arrive. It was an enjoyable evening, but at the back of my mind, I kept worrying about finding a ride back home. Again, predictably, it proved to be arduous. So I decided to walk to the main road and find a vehicle. When I reached there, the road resembled a fiery river of automobiles gushing non-stop on the road, honking and fuming incessantly. When I finally found an auto, it took another two hours to veer through the heartless traffic jam. Exhausted, I returned home and immediately deleted all invitations at the periphery of the city I had once known like the back of my hand. Then, in the half-light, as I switched on my laptop, something touched my foot. Cautiously, I moved back and switched on the lights. A drawing had flown from my table to the floor. I picked it up and saw that it was a copy of The Vitruvian Man. I went into my bedroom and placed it next to my pillow. I felt comforted because that evening, I had felt small and vulnerable in a city that had become so big that I could no longer recognise it as my own. The drawing took me back to the entirely different, entirely illusionary city of my own, where I exist, and I am. David is a Sahitya Akademi Award-winning author, artist and art critic
