Why I Spend the Last Week of the Year by the Sea
By the time December arrives, most of us are running on fumes. The year has taken its share of late nights, deadlines and noise, and the holidays often add more of the same: crowded malls, packed highways and a calendar full of gatherings. A few years ago, I decided to do the opposite. Instead of filling the final week of the year, I would empty it.
What came out of that decision is the five-day retreat I now return to almost every Christmas and New Year. It is simple on purpose. There are no packed schedule and no race from one attraction to the next. The whole plan rests on three things: proper rest, long walks along the shore, and meals cooked slowly in a kitchen of my own.
My base is Katsetiu, a small cluster of villas on a quiet three-kilometre stretch of beach in Setiu, Terengganu. From there, I venture out to a few very different places along the coast: a wetland, a riverside market and a seaside hill. Each one gives the week a different texture, and each one sends me back to the villa a little lighter than I left.
A Word About the Monsoon, and Why I Love It
Let me be honest before anything else. December on the east coast is monsoon season. The northeast monsoon typically runs from November to March, and Terengganu is usually among the first states to feel its heavy rain. The sea turns grey and restless, and many island boat services slow down or stop for the season.
For a sunbathing holiday, this is bad news. For a healing retreat, I have come to think it is perfect. The crowds are gone, the beach feels like it belongs to you, and the rain gives you permission to do nothing at all. Some of my best afternoons have been spent watching a storm roll in across the water through a wall of glass, a mug of ‘teh o suam’ in hand.
The rule I follow is simple. I treat the sea as something to walk beside and look at, not something to swim in. The villa pool is there for a dip on clearer days. I also check the MetMalaysia forecast each morning and keep my plans loose, shuffling the days below around whatever the sky decides.
Day One: Arrive, Unpack, Slow Down
The first day has only one job, which is to arrive properly. I try to reach Setiu by midafternoon, stopping along the way for groceries and a few basics: rice, eggs, coffee, fruit, cooking oil and whatever vegetables look good at the roadside stalls.
The villas at Katsetiu sit in Kampung Telaga Papan, close to Merang, and the first thing you notice is the light. Floor to ceiling glass lets the sea and the garden into every room, so even on a cloudy day the space feels open. The units have their own kitchens or kitchenettes, which is exactly what this retreat needs.
I keep the first evening quiet. A slow walk along the sand at dusk, bare feet, phone left behind. Then a simple dinner of rice, fried egg and sambal, eaten on the balcony while the sound of the waves takes over from the sound of the highway still ringing in my head. Early to bed. That is the whole plan, and it works.
Day Two: Mangroves and Stillness at Setiu Wetlands
On the second morning I wake without an alarm and head for the place that first made me fall in love with this district. Setiu Wetlands covers around 23,000 hectares of lagoon, river, mangrove and swamp, and it was declared Terengganu’s first state park in 2018.
What makes it special is how many worlds meet in one place. Scientists count nine ecosystems side by side, from sandy beaches and estuaries to mudflats, islands and freshwater swamps. You feel that variety as you move through it. One moment the air smells of salt, the next of wet earth and leaves.
There is a 500 metre wooden boardwalk through the mangroves, and I walk it slowly, stopping often. Kingfishers flash past, crabs vanish into the mud, and the roots of the mangroves form a tangle that shelters young fish from the tide. If the water is calm enough, a boat ride with a local guide is worth it; many of the guides are fishermen who now help replant the mangroves they once cut.
Back at the villa, I spend the afternoon doing very little. A nap, a book, a cup of tea. The wetland has a way of lowering your pulse, and I try not to undo that too quickly.
Day Three: Market Morning and a Home-Cooked Feast
Day three is my favourite, and it happens to fall closest to Christmas or New Year’s Eve, depending on how I plan the week. This is the day of the big meal.
I drive south to Kuala Terengganu early, before the heat and the traffic, and head straight for Pasar Payang. The market sits on the bank of the Terengganu River, and fishing boats still come in close enough to unload. Downstairs is the wet market: fish, prawns and squid laid out on ice, alongside piles of vegetables and herbs. Another section is given over to dry goods, keropok, dodol, palm sugar and local biscuits.
I buy slowly and ask a lot of questions. The traders are usually happy to tell you which fish came in that morning and how their mothers cooked it. My basket normally ends up with a whole ikan kembung or two, a bag of prawns, fresh turmeric, lemongrass, kaffir lime leaves, and a packet of keropok lekor for the drive back.
The afternoon belongs to the kitchen. There is something deeply calming about cooking without hurry, with the sea outside the window and nowhere else to be. I grill the fish over the villa’s barbecue, cook the prawns in a simple masak lemak, and steam a pot of rice. If family or friends have joined, everyone takes a task, and the cooking becomes the celebration itself.
We eat together as the sun goes down. No restaurant bill, no rush for the table to turn over. For me, this meal is what the year-end holiday is really about.
Day Four: Sea Caves and Hilltop Views at Bukit Keluang
After a big meal, I like a day that gets the body moving. On the fourth morning I head north towards Besut for Bukit Keluang, a rocky hill that rises straight out of the sea about six kilometres south of Kuala Besut.
The beach here curves around a small bay lined with casuarina trees, with gazebos and picnic tables in the shade. At the foot of the hill are sea caves where bats roost, and the rock formations are unlike anything else I have seen on this coast. Parts of the old cliffside walkway have been damaged by storms over the years, so I stick to the sand and the steps rather than risking the broken sections.
For those who want a climb, a path leads up the 141-metre hill. It is short but steep, and it can be slippery after rain, so good shoes matter. Visitors often mention cheeky monkeys near the top, so keep snacks zipped away. The reward is a wide view over the South China Sea, with small islands sitting on the horizon.
On rougher monsoon days I skip the climb and simply walk the beach, watching the waves hammer the rocks. Either way, I am back in Setiu by late afternoon, tired in the good way, ready for a swim in the villa pool and an early night.
Day Five: One Last Walk, and Closing the Year
The final day starts before sunrise. I pull on a jacket, because monsoon mornings by the sea can be surprisingly cool, and walk the beach in front of the villas as the sky slowly lightens. On a clear morning you can make out the islands offshore. On a cloudy one, the grey sea and grey sky blur into each other, and that is beautiful in its own way.
I use this walk to look back on the year. Not in a heavy way, just a gentle accounting. What went well, what I want to leave behind, what I want more of. Sometimes I write a few lines in a notebook afterwards over breakfast. Sometimes I just keep walking.
If the stay spans New Year’s Eve, the evening is kept small: leftovers from the big feast, a board game from the villa shelf, and a quiet toast on the balcony. There are no fireworks out here worth fighting a crowd for, and I do not miss them.
Then it is time to pack. I always leave something behind for the next guest, usually a note, and I always drive away a little slower than I arrived.
A Few Things I Have Learned
Book early. The year-end school holidays mean the few good villas along this coast fill up fast, especially the larger units that suit families. Pack for rain as well as sun: a light jacket, quick drying clothes and sandals you do not mind getting wet. Bring your own spices and a few pantry staples from home, since village shops close early and some take a break over the holidays.
Most of all, resist the urge to add more. The magic of this retreat is in the gaps between plans. A healing week is not about seeing everything. It is about finally having the space to notice the tide coming in, the birds in the mangroves and the people you came with.
Whatever the weather brings, the sea will still be there, the kitchen will still be warm, and the year will still end. You may as well let it end gently.