Maylasia Marathon Part 1: Little Malaysia Girl

“A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.” – Lao Tzu

As the travel portion of my travel blog begins, I’ve been terribly remiss in posting. I’ve been too busy packing as much in as I can in a short time, and jotting down notes on flights and buses when I can. In the past two weeks I feel I’ve had enough new experiences to fill a book. My only regret is that I will never be able to convey the incredible array of experiences I’ve had living in a Muslim country, hiking through jungles, playing with monkeys, island hopping, eating some of the best food on the planet, meeting a diverse population of Malays, Indians, Chinese, Hindus, Buddhists, Muslims, and Christians, and mostly just encountering a world I had no idea existed. (And my only fear is that I will succeed in getting it all down, and bore everyone half to death in doing so!)

So, Malaysia in two weeks without a single post. A marathon trip begets a marathon blog post. Here we go!

Days 1 and 2: Kuala Lumpur: Bright Lights, Big City

As I wrote before, my selection of Malaysia as my destination had a lot more to do with the fact that I had a friend living here than anything else, so I had no idea what to expect. When I landed in KL and hopped in a cab to Molly’s apartment, I experienced a bit of a culture shock. I had grown accustomed to Beijing and its beloved grittiness, and KL looked extremely modern and surprisingly western as we sped by shiny skyscrapers, highways, and a monorail. I felt as if I had left Asia behind and landed somewhere in the year 2020.

One line to Dartmouth’s song reads “round the girlded earth they roam, her spell on them remains.” I can’t tell you how many random places I’ve come across Dartmouth alums- Beijing, Alaska, and Honduras, to name a few- and now I was lucky to be greeted in this strange new city with a big hug from Molly. Even though it was was after midnight, and Molly needed to be up at 7, she stayed awake to give me some maps, guidebooks, and advice; connect me to the internet; and basically take far better care of me than a couch-surfing college buddy deserves.

Molly is working in KL with several other MIT B-school classmates for the summer. She lives in a gorgeous modern apartment with views of the Petronas towers. I had been a little nervous about KL, but I immediately felt right at home, curled up on her big, comfy couch, and fell asleep.

The next day I woke up (late, of course) grabbed Molly’s map and just walked around, where I learned my first lesson. KL is not a highly walkable city. I walked along the road as cars zipped by gazing at the enormous modern buildings amid the palm trees. I didn’t feel like I was in Asia at all. It felt more like a city that Florida or California wish they had, if they could only purge all the awful 70s architecture, litter, and bums.

I headed towards the Petronas Towers, although I had little desire to go inside because, first, obtaining ticket involves getting up early, and second, two, a pair of tall towers will always have negative associations in my mind. Still, their stainless steel exteriors loomed attractively in the distance, and I headed towards them.

Before the towers lies a clean, modern park where I learned my most important lesson about Malaysia. Malaysians are freakishly friendly. They have no problem waking right up to you with their quintessential greeting for foreigners. “Hello! Where are you from?!” Now, I generally try to blend in wherever I go, but since a white American girl only has so many options for Malaysian assimilation, I chose to embrace my tourist role and walked around KL that day in a wide-brimmed straw hat. It was perfect for the relentless sunshine but definitely attracted attention. As I walked through the park and throughout the city, people looked at me and said, “Hello! Where are you from?” When I responded I was American and from NYC, many asked me for my phone number and email address so they would have someone to hang out with in case they ever came to America (I generally gave out email and withheld the phone number.) One girl even invited me to her home to talk to her sister who was leaving to study in NYC. This was after talking to her for 3 minutes!

I didn’t know how to react to this friendliness. Generally, it was wonderful, especially for a solo traveler, but after four years living in NYC, I’m accustomed to avoiding eye contact on the subway and the street, and generally distrusting strangers. So often when a Malay tapped me on the shoulder, I’d grab my bag, eye them suspiciously, and then feel bad about it. On countless occasions I benefited greatly from Malaysian kindness.

After the Petronas towers, I hopped in a cab and then, on my first day in Malaysia after three months of living in Beijing, I asked to be taken to Chinatown.

I know, I know. But KL is known for its Chinatown as 30% of Malays are Chinese, and its Chinatown is known for its street food. Chinatown was much grittier and a bit more interesting than KL’s business district. It also had some good bargains, and I bought a very decent pair of binoculars for only $8 which have proven quite valuable in my travels. After Chinatown, I was looking at a mp for the famous National Mosque when a man on the street greeted me and asked me where I wanted to go. He was of Indian decent (as are 15% of Malays) and decided Little India should be my destination and led the way. I followed him for about 15 minutes, and he pointed out hole-in-the-wall where I could get some great Indian food. Then he asked for my email because he wanted to go to American to start his business (which was, as best as I could determine, a not so successful street stand selling souvenir Buddhas, but perhaps I was missing something.)

Anyway, I was excited to see Little India, eat Indian food, and walk among the stalls selling gorgeous, colorful saris. Since Malaysia is largely an Islamic country, they were also selllng Muslim headscarves and most of them women wore them, sometimes with a long gown, sometimes with jeans. In the book store, they sold digital prayer counters (I guess they need to keep track of them? Kinda like a rosary.) One beautiful headscarf in particular captured my attention, and I couldn’t resist plunking down $1 for it. One could always attribute it to mercenary reasons, but I was pleased that the woman complimented the scarf on me and didn’t mind selling a headscarf to clearly non-Muslim woman,

I finally made it to the National Mosque at sunset, but I wasn’t allowed inside as it was time for prayers. A man’s voice chanting prayers played loudly over the loudspeaker and could be heard from a distance. It looked and sounded beautiful.

That night, I met Molly for dinner. We ate in one of Malaysia’s many, many enormous modern malls. I had avoided Beijing’s mega malls, but in KL it seemed like a pretty common place for people to hang out and eat, especially because of the air conditioning. It was great to have someone to discuss my day with and to tell me more about Malaysia, as well as fun just to catch up with an old friend.

The next day, I had a to-do list, so I utilized the Tourist Hop on Hop off bus, a lifesaver for anyone that wants to see KL. I grabbed some iced coffee (where I the coffee barista was so concerned with asking me where I was from and telling me where I needed to go in Malaysia that he messed up my order,) and waited for the bus while a taxi driver standing with asked me where I was from. Guess, I told him. He failed even after ten guesses. This happens all the time. I will no longer feel guilty for a failure to distinguish between Asians. They cannot distinguish foreigners apart despite my American accent, and the Chinese and Koreans mix each other up all the time!

I hopped on the bus and we headed to the outskirts of town while in the opposite lane, a massive traffic jam tried to get into KL. I mentioned the transit was bad, and it’s even worse for those commuting in from the suburbs.

I gained a decent overview of the city from the bus and some glimpses of its older sections. We arrived at the park, and I hopped off to see the bird park, the largest free flight bird park in the world. An enormous net was cast over the area, and the rare and delicate birds were kept in small cages inside. I spent a really fun two hours there chasing peacocks, photographing flamingos and feeding ostriches. (My favorite was the blue wattled Cassowary from Papua New Guinea which I had no idea even existed.) The park also had an orchid garden I enjoyed as well as a butterfly garden and planetarium that I missed. I walked about twenty minutes down to the National Mosque when the government rained on my parade.

Literally. Molly said that a recent dry spell compelled the government to seed the clouds for rain, and rain it did. Just as I arrived at the mosque, heavy sheets poured down. I began to remove my shoes when a Muslim cleric at the entrance stenrly told me that I couldn’t enter. I didn’t understand since I knew foreigners were allowed in until I realized it was prayer time- again! A Muslim woman gently asked me if I were Muslim (I give her a lot of credit for being so open-minded,) and I felt a little embarrassed to say no. But she was kind and said I needed to wait outside.

So I stayed under the roof at the entrance and watched it rain. At this moment, a walking caricature of a Muslim cleric in a white turban, a crisp white tunic shirt and pants and a scraggly beard and smiling eyes greeted me Malaysian style. He spoke in a soft, heavy accent, and when he found out I was American, he of course wanted my information just in case he ever came to America. Later, he started preaching to me about Islam, giving me the hard sell on eternal paradise. Since its not every day that a Muslim cleric goes to the trouble of trying to convert, and perhaps because I was feeling bored from standing int he rain, I told him that while paradise sounded nice, I tried to be a good person because I think it’s the right thing to do, not for any future reward. Either he didn’t understand, or pretended not to, but he then he left me to pray asking me to meet him later.

The rain lightened and suddenly streams of Muslims were entering the mosque. They all removed their shoes at the entrance and suddenly I noticed to the side was a cavernous, mostly underground tiled shower where dozens and dozens of men washed their feet before entering the mosque. I was still waiting for it to stop raining when yet another Malay greeted me. He was young and nice, and I told him I was annoyed I wasn’t allowed inside and getting hungry. He told me I should go to the food stalls. Did somebody say food stalls?!?! Where?! I demanded. Behind the mosque he said. They are there only on Fridays for the afternoon prayer service. I immediately headed in that direction, and was thrilled to see that he was correct, and that there were two rows of Malay food stalls.

I suddenly felt a tap on my shoulder and immediately grabbed my bag and whirled around suspiciously. It was the same young Malay who just wanted to make sure I found it. (Seriously, people, the Malays really are that nice.) He walked me through the stalls, conversing with the vendors for me and telling me which foods were good. One of the food vendors, a Muslim woman, when she asked where i was from and I replied America, suddenly grew cold. I asked if she liked America, and she said she did but, to my utter surprise, said she didn’t like Obama, and was the only person in my travels I’ve encountered who said so. I asked her why but she wouldn’t talk to me anymore.

The Malay told me more about Malaysia, how the cars here are too expensive to control traffic, so many people here ride motorcycles, and how the economic crisis had hit here hard too and how he lost his job. He offered me a ride back on his motorcycle after the service (no way was I getting on one of those things in KL,) and I politely declined. He went off to pray, and I returned to Molly’s apartment where she, her roommates and I hopped on a flight to the Malaysain island of Langkawi on the northwestern corner by Thailand.

Days 3-5 Langkawi: Islands in the Sun

A word about the flight. I took Air Asia, also known as the greatest airline in the history of the world. I had been planning on taking trains for most of my travels, for the fun of it and for environmental factor. But the speed and cheapness of Air Asia’s flights proved too alluring for me. Air Asia has been repeatedly voted best airline. My flight to Langkawi cost $60 (Molly bought hers early and hers was about $40 roundtrip!) They often have free flights to Singapore where you only pay taxes. So this is my ode to AirAsia, who made Malaysia travels possible.

So Molly, her four classmates, and I arrived in Langkawi. Now if I had been traveling alone, I would have just found a cheap bed. But there as many different travel styles as there are people, and after working hard in KL, they wanted to stay at a nice resort with a pool, which was still affordable and which was a break from my travel style.

Malaysia’s east coast islands are reputedly better, but I thought Langkawi was beautiful. It’s known as a popular destination for Arabs this time of year who seek to escape the mideastern heat in a Muslim country like Malaysia. At the resort, woman walked around in scarves and modest bathing suits. There was even a separate women-only pool.

On the beach, usually in the evening when the weather cooled, the Muslim women in the full burkas came out to sit on the beach. I have to admit, the contrast of the women completely cloaked in black sitting next to their husbands wearing nothing but shorts and sandals irritated the heck out of me. I consider myself fairly tolerant, but the double standard was blatant on the beach. But again, I must give them credit for their own seeming lack of judgment. We were walking around in bikinis with beers, and not once did I feel like I Muslim was staring at me or judging or taking pictures of me (all of which I was guilty of.)

At one point, a woman in burka photographed her husband, and reflexively I offered to photograph the two of them. I realized it was the first time I ever actually spoke to woman in a burka. I have to admit the moment felt a little odd since I obviously couldn’t register any facial expression. But she handed me the camera and her husband seemed pleased. The light was quite bright and after I took the picture I started to say that I couldn’t see their faces or face, but I trailed off worrying how that might sound and just returned the camera. They seemed very nice.

We spent the weekend enjoying activities like island hopping on a small, private boat and relaxing by the pool. One of our friends, Hari, befriended a Langkawi man named Emy who organized our activities for what seemed to us to be a fair price. He was barrel chested with long hair, red skin, amber eyes, and a gruff voice with mediocre English. He was Muslim, but could pound a beer in a single swig, as long as his Muslim boss wasn’t looking.

On Molly’s last evening in Langkawi, we went parasailing. I planned on staying in Langkawi and extra night, and making my way back to Kuala Lumpur somehow. Our Langkawi friend found out I was staying on without them and invited me to dinner. Emy was the last person on earth I could imagine having dinner with, but it seemed better than eating alone so I agreed.

While I ate green curry, Emy drank beer and bored me to death in broken English about all the women that come to Langkawi and apparently throw themselves at him. And how he coudn’t handle women not wanting to commit to him in Langkawi. When I asked why he didn’t date Langkawi women, he said that he didn’t like them. I turned my attention to the restaurant manager, a Chinese woman. I spoke wit her in my basic Mandarin and she replied in her excellent English. She represented everything I admire about Chinese women. She was smart, tough, competent and no-nonsense. She asked if I wanted to try some durian.

Did I!!? At the entrance to our hotel was a sign saying NO DURIAN. I had wanted to try it ever since I read about in a Wall Street Journal article http://wsj.com/public/article_print/SB121399917835493023.html Durian is a spiky fruit known for it pungent sulphur smell and taste that attracts a cult following. One Malay informed me that there are even durian buffets where you pay a fee to eat all the durian you can eat, paying a higher fee for the higher quality buffet.

The Chinese woman brought over a durian and carefully hacked it open with a knife. Inside it was divided in sections and you must eat the fleshy fruit around the seed. They say you either love durian or hate it, but I must be one of the few that fall in the middle. I didn’t love it, but I didn’t mind. The Chinese woman called me over to the sink and showed the secret to cleaning the smell form your hands. Pur water on the durian rind and wash your hands as the water runs off. I think it worked because I couldn’t smell it on my hands. She then advised me not to pass gas in an elevator after eating durian, and i assured her that I would take care not to do so.

The next day Langkawi all my own. For $7, I rented a moped. I was scared having never ridden one before, and especially because Malays drive on the left side of the road. When I gunned the engine and lurched forward, the hotel cleaning lady ran screaming and shrieking across the parking lot. But I got the hang out it soon enough, and map in hand, I set off to circle the island as the slowest moped drive in Langkawi.

I know many think I’m brave for heading off to Asia, but I take calculated risks, and I really don’t feel safe on mopeds. But as I said, I drove around slowly, there was hardly any traffic, and it was the best way for me to see the island.

I stopped off at the cable car for a spectacular view from the mountains. When I was at the beach I had badly wanted to be in the mountains, and when I was on top of the mountain looking at the distant white beaches, I wanted to be there. This pretty much sums up why I travel.

At one point, I stopped at a stand for lunch. The woman served me then best chicken soup (with lime and spices) that I’ve ever had in my entire life. And of course it was only $1. Driving around on my moped for hours around the island was one of my best days in Malaysia. I considered staying longer, but i had much to see and little time. And I need to make plans to get off Langkawi, which was not as easy as I thought.

I originally planned to take the ferry and then take trains or buses to get back to KL and to Molly. But I decided despite Lao Tzu’s advice, I did have some destinations in mind. So the next morning, I woke up early, packed my bag, and headed to the airport where I bought a one way ticket to Singapore for $70 for a flight that left the next hour. I love Air Asia.

(This entry was written while staying in the surreally beautiful Ping An rice terraces known as the Devil’s Backbone while staying among the Yao people, an ethnic minority known for growing their hair to their waste (and unwrapping it from their heads for you for a few bucks.) Why this place isn’t as popular as the Great Wall is beyond me, but it’s nice to get away from the crowds, and I’ll write more about it later, once I’m finished with my Malay blogs!)

July 14, 2009. Uncategorized.