Malaysia - Land of the Toothpicks, Straw Hats, and the Occasional Yee-Haw!

October 7th, 2008 by Craig

Well, we’ve found ourselves in Malaysia at last. We didn’t know what to expect before coming. Would it be difficult to travel here? Would we starve to death for lack of a decent meal? Would the army herd us about mumbling things about the insolent westerners? Well, if you’ve been to Malaysia recently, you know that none of these are true. If you haven’t been recently, we hear that there are a few airlines that fly Singapore to all over the world (probably somewhere close to your hometown) direct, then take the train for a few hours and you will find yourself in beautiful Malaysia. We have travelled to Melacca (Malacca, Melaka, etc. It seems to have many different spellings for some reason.), where we found a charming old Chinatown with local shopkeepers, blacksmiths, tailors, and a centuries old church on a hill overlooking the city.

Next we travelled to Kuala Lumpur, the largest city in Malaysia with 1.5 million people, where we found friendship, a long-awaited taste from home, and much needed rest. We Couchsurfed (www.couchsurfing.com) with two separate people in KL. The first was a nice lady and her son who hosted us on the spur of the moment and carried us around for a night on the town. Then there was Ken, our second host here. If you were wondering about the title of this post, this is where it will all make sense. Ken is a Chinese Malaysian who is an avid Couchsurfer and a college professor who lived in the United States for 10 years. Much of this time was spent in Arkansas and Ken has told us much about his “redneck” ways while there. He has the straw cowboy hat, can do a good hick accent, and knows his way around a farm, we’re sure. Ken provided us many laughs, several nights rest, assistance around KL, and even a taste of home (sort of) when we got to cook fried chicken, mac-n-cheese, and fried okra at his house. We got to meet many of the local expat community (which is rather large here) and were truly amazed at how “user-friendly” Malaysia is.

Our time here has been nice and though we head off to Thailand soon, we will remember the friendliness and intelligence of the Malaysian people and the beauty of Malaysia for many years.

swimming lizards and candy floss skies

Malaysia Part 17 - swimming lizards and candy floss skies
August 12, 2008 ·

One morning Monsieur and I went for breakfast at The Spice Market, a large restaurant with both indoor and terraced seating and an impressive breakfast buffet. We ate various different things from the generous spread (spicy Malay food, boring old toast), but the one that sticks in my mind is the watermelon. Next to the platter of the sliced red fruit was a bowl of limes. Back at the table I squeezed a couple of the green segments all over the watermelon, ready to try something a bit new. The combination of zingy citrus and subtle melon crush was refreshing in the most tropical of ways. Now, whenever I eat watermelon, it has to be with a drizzle of lime juice over the top.

After breakfast, we went to the Business Centre to check our e-mails; something we’d not done for a while. There in my in-box was a message from Wise Woman telling me that Steve Irwin, that bastion of masculinity in khaki-shorts-wearing, crocodile and serpent-wrestling form, had been killed by a stingray whilst scuba diving. No. It could not be! Steve Irwin? The invincible? Dead? On reflection, when your life involves daily risk such as sticking your head into the open mouth of a croc for TV, I guess it wasn’t that surprising.

I insisted we return to the chalet to watch satellite news and sure enough, there it was: an international tribute to the now late Steve Irwin. His wife, Terri and children, Bindi (then eight) and Bob (then three) were understandably devastated.

In this case, the famed Croc Hunter had been shooting some film off the coast of Australia at the Great Barrier Reef. He reportedly swam over a ray hidden in the sand and the barb of the ray’s tail flung up suddenly, piercing him in the chest. Irwin was rushed to meet a medical evacuation helicopter on nearby Lowe Island, but died in spite of all efforts to save him. To hear such news in Malaysia, of all places, made it even more unexpected. The world would certainly be less colourful without Steve Irwin, whom I will always fondly remember unknowingly flashing his goolies as he sat wide-legged in his signature khaki shorts on Parkinson one Saturday night.

Having now seen the news and convinced myself that Steve Irwin was now in Croc-Hunter Heaven, we went for a swim in the Horizon Pool. The water was warm as we floated lazily under the Langkawi sun. Families of Arabic origin milled about at poolside, the women draped in their dark robes and veils, making me all the more conscious of wearing a bikini. I stayed in the water, refusing to get out until they had passed. In spite of the veils, I’d noticed their eyes staring at the Western women wearing beach clothes and swimwear around the resort. Whatever their beliefs, they must have wished, at least for one second, that they could strip off and feel the sun’s rays warm their skin. Although I respect the veil, I will never understand it.

The Arab children, meanwhile, screeched around unchecked on the resort’s bicycles, little princes and princesses enjoying the freedom of childhood, whilst occasionally riding straight into another guest. At least the little girls, for now, could play in shorts and tee shirts. I wondered how they would feel the first time they had to shroud themselves, to do so forever after.

At lunchtime, we grabbed a quick bite at the poolside snack bar - lebanese wraps filled with chicken fingers, salad and a mango salsa, before lounging in the sun with our books. I was reading The End of Elsewhere by Taras Grescoe, a fascinating history of tourism from pilgrimages through to the present day. It’s one of those books so cram-packed full of interest that you don’t want to turn the pages too quickly.

The afternoon heat stoked up so back in the pool we went for another dip. Just another boring paragraph in this travelogue? I suppose it could be, but when you consider that a lizard swam past us, squiggling atop the water’s surface from one side of the pool to the other, it was definitely one of the more unusual swims I’ve ever taken. The lizard seemed to walk on the water, ignoring our gaping mouths (it was no small lizard, roughly 16 inches long) as it reached the rocky wall by the pool bar, climbing it slowly to a plateau in the sun. There it froze still, becoming immediately invisible, its colour blending into the stone.

That evening, Monsieur and I wandered down to the beach to watch another Langkawi sunset. This time, the sea turned papaya and the clouds resembled candy floss suspended in the still, warm air. The sky was iced teal at the horizon, gradually deepening into a dark azure heaven. When the moon came, it was a jolt of titanium white against the palette of colours competing around it. The islands below became a furry black silhouette and we sat as nature performed its evening floorshow.

Interrupting the peace, a wizened and weathered old Malay man approached me, speaking a toothless gibberish as he prodded the air by my face. I think I was getting a lecture, but I couldn’t be sure. He was poor, that was obvious, so I exercised patience, hoping his message would become clear. He wasn’t holding his hand out, so he wasn’t begging, I don’t think, but a waiter wasn’t taking any chances. Out of nowhere he jumped, in crisp white uniform, shooing the old man away.

Down on the water, jetskiers made the most of the last minutes of daylight as fishermen hauled their catch up onto the beach. I wandered down to the nets, watching the men deftly pick out the fish of the day, whilst returning anything too small or unwanted to the sea. Their fishing method was ancient - there wasn’t even a boat involved; just men and their nets, cast out into the water and tethered there until it was time to retrieve Neptune’s spoils.

I stooped to pick some shells off the sand. Many were translucent, others were opaque limpets of varying shades of white and black. There were razor clam shells and tiny, empty scallops. Crabs scuttled sideways, in and out of their holes as my plodding human feet approached. The only people on the beach were Monsieur, myself and the fishermen.

Back at the resort, the umbrella-shaped rhu trees took on a fairy-tale quality in the darkening evening and stars popped out one by one. During these hours at the shore, my breathing slowed to the point that I barely felt alive; everything was so steeped in the stuff of dreams. At the same time I felt more alive than ever. The colours, the salt air, a swimming lizard, the strange toothless man, the umbrella tree, the fishermen, the crabs, the magic shells. Such memories remain clear in my mind, both technicolour and indelible to this day.

Categories: 1 · Animal antics · Asia · Hotels · Malaysia · Restaurants - let's eat chic · Travel - bon voyage!
Tagged: Edge of Elsewhere, langkawi, Langkawi sunset, lebanese wraps, Malaysia, natural beauty, Pelangi Beach Resort, rhu trees, Steve Irwin death, Steve Irwin on Parkinson, swimming lizard, The Spice Market, travel, watermelon and lime
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Langkawi legends and lost ice lollies

Malaysia Part 18 - Langkawi legends and lost ice lollies
August 13, 2008 · 5 Comments

One day, Monsieur and I found ourselves suffering from Resort Fatigue so we decided to get out and explore the island on a chauffeur-driven jeep tour. We were collected from main reception before being whisked out of the complex and into Langkawi’s beautiful landscape. Our driver was friendly and full of advice regarding what we should see. As we drove down country roads bisecting the low-land paddie fields, we saw water buffalo grazing knee-deep in water and locals tending their crops. Little houses with chicken coops stood between the verdant fields and everything was lush with good health.

Our first stop was the Field of Burnt Rice, related to one of Langkawi’s many legends. A beautiful woman named Mahsuri was married to the chief of the island and subjected to the petty jealousies of her mother-in-law. When Mahsuri’s husband left to fight the Siamese, who were threatening Langkawi, Mahsuri’s monster-in-law suspected her of committing adultery with a travelling musician. Mahsuri was subsequently executed by sword, as sleeping around behind your spouse’s back was a sin punishable by death, as it should be :-) but as Mahsuri died, her wounds gushed white blood, symbolising her innocence.

During the unusually long-winded execution which took a while to complete thanks to blunt swords, Mahsuri took some time to cast a curse on Langkawi:

“There shall be no peace and prosperity on this island for a period of seven generations.”

That was in 1819. The islanders soon had reason to believe this curse because shortly after Mahsuri’s death, in 1821, the Siamese army invaded Langkawi and Mahsuri’s father-in-law, Dato Karma Jaya, worried about what would happen if the island’s rice store fell into Siamese hands, so he ordered it all burned. The locals then suffered from food deprivation, again proving the curse’s validity in their eyes. It also seems relevant that anyone with “Karma” in their name should be wary of creating negative karma themselves by starving their people, even if you do achieve your aim of starving the enemy.

The Field of Burnt Rice is where the rice store once stood. To this day, grains of blackened rice still appear after rain in an area called Padang Mat Sirat. It’s believed that the rice was buried there before being burned. Nowadays, there is a small monument to Mahsuri and her curse at the Field of Burnt Rice, but islanders believe that the curse has lifted as the seventh generation descendant of Mahsuri, Wan Aishah, was born in Southern Thailand in 1980. The modern Langkawi thrives, thanks in a big way to property development and tourism.

Monsieur and I wandered through the market at the Burnt Rice Village, a thriving collection of stalls selling everything from colourful, beaded headscarves to typical touristy tees and shell jewellery, then looked at the giant Bonsai standing unceremoniously in the car park. It seemed a shame that such such a grande dame of the art of Bonsai should be growing there.

The driver then took us the Atma Alam Batik Village, where we saw the batik process in its various stages (batik is a method of decorating material by using hot wax outlines which remain white when dye is painted over them). The adjacent shop was filled with batik paintings, shirts (which were so splashy that Monsieur shied away instantly), scarves and sarong-style skirts with matching tops. I bought a few pretty headbands and some hand-made paper notebooks as gifts, but the disappointment of the staff that we weren’t Big Spenders was palpable, in spite of their smiles.

Back in the jeep, we drove further around the coast as the driver told us about the effect of the Boxing Day Tsunami on Langkawi.

“We were very lucky here,” he told us, “Only one person died and she was very, very old so she was probably going to die anyway, with or without the tsunami. When the wave came, the water flooded the coastal areas and the pools at the Pelangi Resort were filled with fish!”

Now there was an image for us. Click here for Langkawi tsunami photos.

We rounded a bend, following an inlet leading inland. Ahead of us was a modern village with shops and restaurants and a marina filled with gin palaces. This was Pantai Kok Harbour. We made a comfort stop at the marina and even in the brand new ladies’ room, the loos were Turkish-style and water and urine covered the ground. I pondered how safe such practices were, given the slippery floor. One thing cannot be disputed, however: going Turkish is definitely good for your leg muscles.

As we motored on, the driver pointed out to some islands at the mouth of the harbour.

“Man-made,” he said, proudly.

“Man-made?” we asked, like a pair of Doubting Thomases.

“Yes, man-made. Those islands are to make the bay prettier and give the boats somewhere else to moor.”

Now, the road was rising and the sides of the road were thick with jungle. We were going to see a famous waterfall and as we approached the car park, signs of the tourist were evident. At the many rubbish bins dotted around, families of macaques were sifting their way through the rubbish, looking for something to nibble and strewing anything inedible in a great mess on the ground. They weren’t in any way disturbed by cars or people. These monkeys were quite used to humans and far from intimidated by us, as we were about to see.

At a snacks kiosk by the car park, a group of visitors were buying ice lollies. One turned away with his refreshing twister, removed it from the wrapper and took an audible slurp. That was all the encouragement required for one old monkey. He jumped up, grabbed the ice lolly and returned to the curb where he polished it off at leisure. We all stood in amazement at this blatant theft. The tourist, a strapping chap, was completely thrown by the act.

“Can I get you another one?” asked one of his group,

“No way. I’m getting out of here.” he spat, casting a death glare at the monkey and stomping off to the waiting bus.

At just less than a mile long, the trek through the jungle was uphill in the intense humidity, but the path was new and wide, if a little slippery at times. The falls at the end were worth our effort, though. Called the Seven Wells Waterfall, or Telaga Tujuh, a freshwater stream cascades via six pools to a 90 foot fall dropping into the seventh. The legend of this place tells of fairies visiting the seven wells to bathe, drawn by the natural beauty all around. We could see their point.

Continuing our tour, we were next taken to a spring with healing waters called Air Hangat, or ‘Hot Water’. This is the site of yet another Langkawi legend, where two feuding families were hurling objects at each other until one side threw a pot of hot water. The pot fell on the ground and a hot spring immediately manifested on the spot where the pot landed. The area is geothermal so perhaps it just took the thump of a landing pot to set off the spring. Who knows? Ever since, the hot waters have been praised for their healing properties for the mind and soul and a cultural village has grown around the spring.

Monsieur and I weren’t really that interested in Air Hangat, if the truth be told. We were dying to get into Langkawi’s big town, Kuah, to do some shopping. Langkawi is a tax free zone, you see, so everyone shops here like it’s a sport. But our driver had been so good to us that we visited the complex to be polite. Inside, the hot spring is fed into modern channels in the typical geometric shapes of Islamic design. It was beautifully done, if a little sterile, but I admit I was more interested in the salad servers at the gift shop. They were a dark, speckled wood, so I bought a pair for home. For their exotic beauty, they were ridiculously cheap. Something like RM8 each! They’d probably sell for £30 or more in London. Hrmph. Perhaps I should go into business.

AS WE SEE YOU

Tuesday, August 12, 2008


If there is a microcosm for the world growing without "US", it is Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Funded by oil, influenced by colonialism and Islam, run by the emigrated Chinese, and worked by the emigrated Southeast Asians and emigrated Indians, KL is hyper-reality to Dubai's sur-reality. It is a spectacular and gritty place, with towering luxury condos and scrap metal roofed shanties only a few meters apart. Legions of motorbikers whiz around lanes clogged with status-symbol cars, their drivers each looking at the other with both disdain and envy. Its people are polyglottal, often speaking Malay, reading Chinese or Arabic, and working in English. On our second day, we spent the morning walking past the National Mosque and touring the excellent Museum of Islamic Arts, and the afternoon climbing 272 stairs to the Batu caves, a geological marvel converted into Hindu temple. At both holy sites, we saw tourists faithful to the other. For our three dinners, we ate satays, shawerma, and sushi. (and not for the alliterative convenience)

Our hotel was right in the shadow of the iconic Petronas Towers, connected to a massive supremely upscale mall. I have little interest in shopping but in a country where neither temperature nor humidity ever dip below eighty, a regular and convenient respite from the heat was irresistibly appealing. On Saturday night, it seemed that a good half the city's three million residents had arrived. Women completely concealed in burkas glided past trios of girls undressed for the club. Tourists and single men lined the rails and just took it all in. Hesitant to go out again after a long day, we tried to acquire a local dinner in the food court, but eventually found ourselves almost dizzy with confusion and frustration at the size of the crowds and the lack of queues. We retreated to a small Japanese supermarket, part of the Isetan department store, and bought reasonable sushi and Kettle Chips, which were hands down the best US export in KL.

On Friday, we toured the sites of the city using the Hop-On/Hop-Off bus, which was irregular, slow and too big for the city. Once we had paid $12 for our day-long ticket, however, we were reluctant to give up and try the taxis and trains. KL, I should note, also has a monorail that seems purely for entertainment value. I am still looking for an exception.

We particularly enjoyed the Bird and Butterfly parks, which allowed us to see some of the exotic fauna native to Southeast Asia. A walk through the insect hall convinced my wife and I that we would probably not need to schedule a trip to the Cameron Highlands, home of the sort of creepy crawlies best left to the Discovery Channel. The insects weren't the only menacing animalia, however. We were amazed by the sight of the Great Hornbill, which seemed to be a toucan with its beak turned inside-out and terrifying. We also visited the pen of the Southern Cassowary, whose head bore a disturbing resemblance to that of a velociraptor.

We toured the Central Market and Chinatown, where the contrast to the mega-mall next to our hotel was tremendous. The mega-mall featured brands from everywhere not Malaysia, the Central Market featured the Indian, Chinese and Southeast Asian products typical of this country's particular blend. Saris and batik sarongs, Zodiac statuary and video games, stone chess sets and tourist kitsch all had their place. Instead of the mega-mall's perfume and disinfectant, the Central Market featured incense and sizzling spices. The people here looked much the same as those in the mega-mall, but there they walked while they watched and were watched, here they were busy shopping and selling.

Leaving KL meant an hour-long ride on its new super-highways, past enormous new sub-divisions, around the new centers for federal government (Putrajaya) and multi-national technology corporations (Cyberjaya), then out through groves of palm trees and finally out through the jungle itself. I asked our cabbie why the airport was so far from the city and he said, "We want room for expansion. To grow."
Posted by Mr. AB at 6:33 PM