Spend any time in Malaysia and you'll soon here the phrase "Malaysia boleh!" Essentially it's the national catchphrase and means "Malaysia can do" — a rallying call to overcome any defeatist thoughts that people might have.

There aren't many countries that have such a catchphrase. A splendid flag, yes. A rousing anthem, certainly … but a catchphrase? That's rare. However, it encompasses a Malaysian attitude of wanting to get things done.

No longer is Malaysia happy to be seen to be a poor relation to Singapore. Now, every time they set about doing something it invariably has to be the biggest and the best. And this leads into a second Malaysian love: breaking records.

Nearly every new project lays claim to some record-breaking achievement. Obviously, there's the Petronas Towers, but each new mall calls itself "the biggest in Asia" — the flagpole in Merdeka Square was, at 100m, the highest in the world when it went up — and barely a weekend goes by without someone making an attempt at "the world's biggest curry puff" or suchlike.

There's even a Malaysian Book of Records, filled not with records from around the world but from just Malaysia itself.

Did you know that Kam Su-Sze swam 50 metres at the age of two years six months, the longest distance ever swum (or is it swam, I can never quite remember) by a Malaysian toddler? And are you yet to be astounded by the giant that is Hoo Sun Foo, Malaysia's tallest man at a giddy 6ft 9in (2.1m)?

I might try and set a record myself … any ideas on what to go for?

Malaysians are very proud people, so there are few national topics that a foreigner can speak negatively about without causing offence. However, on one topic everyone agrees: taxis in Malaysia are terrible. Ask anyone.

The majority are Proton Sagas, a car launched in 1985 and churned out with no significant revisions until last year. It's not cutting-edge, comfortable motoring and it must make a terrible impression on the tourists who arrive in Malaysia expecting to be blown away by how modern and thrusting things are here.

This morning I got into a taxi that had no wing mirrors. That's a new low.

I should have known it wasn't going to go well when the driver tried to lie by saying they don't use meters in the middle of town. A small argument ensued and I, extremely begrudgingly, found myself handing over RM10 for a five-minute trip just because I was in a hurry and out of options.

It turned out that I didn't have to worry about the wing mirrors anyway — the driver didn't have any need for them. In fact, he didn't give the impression he needed any of the motoring accessories available to him, including indicators or brakes.

All in, it was entirely possible that the steering wheel, horn and accelerator were the only bits of his vehicle that he had any kind of passing acquaintance with. We eventually made it to my destination safely, but I can now see why the Pope kisses the ground whenever he arrives somewhere new. I felt like doing the same thing.

Have you had a dodgey taxi experience in Asia? Tell us about it.

Someone mentioned to me that I may have been a little harsh last week.

In fairness then, I should point out that customer service in Malaysia isn't always so laid-back. When I step into the Body Shop the sales assistants pounce on me so fast that I often find myself backing out before I've even looked at anything. It's one thing for them to be attentive, but it's quite another for them to essentially climb onto my back and ride me round the store while commenting on each and every item I glance at.

Perhaps I should say at this stage that I'm painting with broad strokes. The people who put up with my ludicrously complicated Starbucks order every morning are so lovely that I just want to take them home.

However, I still maintain that service culture is not especially prevalent in Malaysia. It also appears that there's no significant improvement if you move to the higher end of the financial scale.

A few weeks ago I went looking for a new car and, after a good 10 minutes of poking round the showroom, sitting in Protons, playing with switches and making "vroom, vroom" noises, I found myself having to go into a back room in search of a salesman to help me.

Actually, I take it all back … being left alone by a car salesman was actually quite a nice experience. Perhaps there's something in this lack of service after all.

Is there a happy medium? Have you discovered it in Malaysia or on your other travels? Tell us about it.