Shells and Kayaks: Missives from Malaysia no. 4

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Shell Paradise
It’s winter and cold outside. So I’ve got one more post about Malaysia you can warm yourself over. I know it’s been two months since the trip, but this is a way for me to get back into writing regularly for the blog, by thawing my creativity out of a premature hibernation.

The beaches of Langkawi aren’t crystal clear, but they do have a pleasing milky emerald about them, and there were no suddenly chilly currents sneaking under you like you might find in the Pacific. Also the sands were only occasionally the prized fine powdery white. They were meticulously kept this way in front of our hotel, but when we ventured to other beaches, they were covered with shells in various states. It was shell paradise.

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Our hotel was on its own little island a 15 minute speedboat ride away from the main island. By the second day, we got bored of our perfect beach and wanted to see what else was on the island. When I went on a morning stroll I glimpsed a long stretch of beach far from the hotel, so we went on an exploratory hike through a thick jungle, past curious monkeys and wary hornbills onto an “abandoned” beach. There was no one there, only stretches of coral and shell. I spent the afternoon kicking back on the beach while T hunted for beautiful and unusual shells.

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We went back every day thereafter.

After a couple mornings of drinking coffee gazing into the distance across the waters, a small island intrigued me more and more. It seemed to have little cozy beaches and I was aching for a little adventure. So we borrowed a kayak from the hotel and started paddling out there. I have a little experience kayaking but T had never paddled anything before. Halfway there, she figured it out and was soon intuitively directing our little watercraft to the island.

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The waters were remarkably calm but boats passing far off in the distance created waves that rocked us at seemingly dangerous angles. But we got there safely. The water was actually warmer there and we also enjoyed the teeming life in the tide pools. There’s something cool about being on an island all to yourself (as far as we knew anyway), having gotten there through your own muscle power.

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But we never really felt we were on a deserted island because of the trash that had washed ashore and settled onto the edge of the jungle. There were lots of empty water bottles, plastic buckets and fishing nets.
This isn’t surprising since Langkawi is situated on the edge of the Straits of Malacca, which has the busiest shipping lanes in the world. Everything that goes between East Asia and the US West Coast to Europe and vice versa goes through there. But that’s nothing new, the Straits have been used by Arab traders, Chinese merchants, and European imperialists for millennia.
Still, from where we were, despite the garbage, we felt far from the detritus of civilization.

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Malay Melange: Missives from Malaysia no. 3

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This was a sign that was in a taxi. It implored its passengers to refrain from kissing. One might think that this is peculiar to Malaysia, prudish admonishments from a predominantly Muslim country. But actually, I’ve found that such modesty is the norm throughout Southeast Asia, in Buddhist countries as well. Yet I observed locals holding hands and couples showing public affection for each other. I didn’t feel it was such a big deal there in general, compared to Thailand and Cambodia.

Malaysia was my first experience in a Muslim country, where sharia, or Islamic law is practiced. (I don’t count my travels to Indonesia since I was only in Bali, a Hindu enclave. I suppose I could count my time in England where I lived among Pakistanis.) Counter to my expectations, I didn’t feel restricted at all. Of course, mine was a skewed perspective, since I was in a surprisingly cosmopolitan city, and then an international resort area. Sharia doesn’t apply to non-Muslims. The heathens can drink alcohol, whereas the faithful cannot, for instance.

On the other hand, I did see censorship, like this blacked out photo of a ballet dancer. I guess the leotard was too revealing.

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Malaysia’s a pleasingly multicultural society and from my superficial experience there, people seemed to co-exist pretty peacefully. Half are Malay, a quarter are Chinese, about 15% are Indians and the rest are tribal members of the Borneo jungles, and expats. What this has led to is great food. It’s an eclectic mix. It’s also led to what appears to be a certain level of religious tolerance, as I saw Hindu and Buddhist temples.

Here are some other observations about the culture and people I came across.

Mellow Malaysians
Unlike other Southeast Asian countries, shopkeepers and taxi-drivers aren’t aggressive. Although, when I went into one airport store, the Chinese shopkeepers kept following me around and offered me deals on everything I looked at. We didn’t go to the markets but there wasn’t any haggling anywhere.

Like the rest of Southeast Asia, open conflict like shouting or showing anger is considered immature and is to be avoided.

Malaysia is not a smiling culture. No one was unfriendly. But no one smiled. Eye contact was also avoided. I found myself avoiding eye contact too when I interacted with service workers. I also stopped smiling as it seemed to make the women uncomfortable.

The youth are quite contemporary, non-traditional in their dress, resembling most Japanese fashions. Many young men had earrings, which I never really see around Asia.

Imported Labor
I didn’t observe an obvious division of labor in Kuala Lumpur. I’ve read commerce is dominated by the Chinese and politics by the Malays. Grunt labor seemed to be filled by Indonesians, Filipinos and Tamil Indians in the city.

In Langkawi, most of the reception staff were Malay or Indonesian, and the cleaners, waiters and attendants were Bangladeshi. I chatted at length with the Bangladeshi and they all seemed to have one relative in Japan and one in the US. Also, every first time conversation began with a recitation of how long they’ve been in Malaysia. “I have been in Malaysia for 1 year and 2 months.” They were all very kind.

Fellow Tourists
At our resort, most of the tourists were Russian, German, Dutch, Australian, Arab and Indian. There were sprinklings of Chinese. I also noticed a Korean couple. But I was surprised to find no Japanese. I’m sure it had a lot to do with the fact that there were no Japanese holidays while we were there. I’m certain their visits are concentrated during the New Year and Spring holidays.

I could understand the large number of Russians and Indians and Chinese. This is all the new money. And Aussies live nearby. But why the disproportionate number of Dutch?

I thought about how all those Russians and Chinese must be very rich. But then thought how Americans and Japanese are very privileged, since just middle class folks like me could come here. The middle class of the US and Japan are as rich as the rich in other countries.

In Kuala Lumpur, there were some Americans but they were mostly people like me who lived around Asia.

Bahasa Ingris

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I liked this sign, warnings listed in four languages, plus a graphic.

Everyone spoke English as it’s one of the national languages, and the unifying one of a population that speaks Malay, Chinese or Hindi. It’s also a colonial legacy, since the Brits controlled Malaysia longer than anyone else.

While all the other nationalities spoke English to varying degrees, the Russians spoke nary a word of it. Like nothing. I observed them even ghostwriting their room numbers in the air, instead of just saying it.

The Arabs
There were quite a few Arab tourists. I don’t observe them much in other places in Asia, but I’m sure they prefer Malaysia since it’s a Muslim country. Sadly, in the 40 degree heat (about 90F), the women always wore heavy black veils that covered everything but the eyes. They weren’t the sheer light scarves worn by the local Muslim women. They were heavy fabrics. Others still wore the full burqa. They were always black.

I thought that white would at least alleviate the heat. The men, their husbands and sons, were in t-shirts and shorts. I can respect the choice towards modesty, however you define it, but that was too much. Couldn’t the men show some solidarity by wearing trousers and long-sleeved shirts? After all, they’re the ones who made the dress code and enforce it.

The Leftie’s Lament
The one cultural thing that I had problems with was the use of the right hand when handing things to another person. I’m a leftie, so I constantly had to hastily switch money from my left hand to my right hand. The left hand is considered unclean since it’s traditionally used to clean oneself after using the toilet. Most Malaysians seemed amused when I awkwardly switched hands. but I did catch flickers of hesitation during the times I forgot and used my left hand.

Chrysanthemum Tea: Missives from Malaysia no.2

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Like the people the food in Malaysia is an eclectic blend of Malay, Chinese and Indian dishes. A typical breakfast included satay, dim sum and naan. And of course, I loaded up on the tropical fruit. There were the familiar mangoes, pineapples and papayas. And then there was the dragon fruit, which I had never tried. It had a lightly sweet white flesh with lots of little black seeds and a pink rind.

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I’m a firm believer in trying the local tap water. What better more intimate way than to really get to know your host country. Drink their water. My stomach is lined with steel so I don’t recommend this to everyone. But the clearest impressions of places have come from their water. Barcelona, for instance, had milky sulfuric water. That was about as bad as it gets. Any water in a mountain town is usually delicious. Malaysia’s was quite neutral. It was clear, not laden with heavy chemicals. Being an island nation, I expected a salty aftertaste. But it was neutral by all measures, and it was better than the local bottled water.

Another litmus test is the coffee. Every coffee I had in Malaysia was a bit weak and even watery. I observed that most of the locals seemed to favor milk tea.

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I also like to try the local drinks I see in stores. I found a can of chrysanthemum tea. And I wasn’t surprised to find that it tasted like chrysanthemums. The base was a lightly sweet water, not syrupy. If you want to know what flowers taste like, this is it.

8 Views of the Petronas Towers: Missives from Malaysia no.1

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I recently spent a week in Malaysia. The first couple of days were in Kuala Lumpur, a surprisingly laid-back easy city to be in. In contrast to other South East Asian cities, KL doesn’t have the crazed non-stop action, the aggressive shop-keepers, the hustling taxi-drivers. I didn’t see any tuk-tuks, the moped driven taxis, nor did I see any mopeds or scooters. I kind of missed the chaos of these other cities, but it was extremely pleasant to be in a more relaxing atmosphere.

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Thanks to my Malaysian friend’s recommendation, we stayed at the Traders Hotel, which squarely faces the Petronas Towers. Here’s a view from the KL Tower, which has the best view of the city. You can see our hotel on the right. The picture on the right is from the rooftop pool of the hotel.
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I must say, the towers are underrated. For one thing, they don’t mimic the boxy towering behemoths of other famous skyscrapers. Instead, they use a lot of native cultural elements. The overall shape reminds me of the minarets that flank most mosques. Yet the texturing of the surface reminds me of Buddhist stupas that are everywhere in Southeast Asia.

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The best time to see the towers are at night. With the beehive facets, the shimmery steel and the lighting, the towers looked like crystal minarets. It’s a stunning effect.

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And here’s another shot closer to the base.

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One final shot, to show how tall this building is, once the tallest in the world. Like a mountaintop, it’s got it’s own micro-climate at the top.

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Jeju Notes: My Father’s Footsteps

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When I told my dad that I visited Jeju Island, he told me about his first visit to the island. I knew that he went there on his honeymoon with my mom when they were in their 20’s. And I knew that more recently he attended a high school reunion there. He even stayed in the same hotel that I did!

But I never knew about his first trip there as a teenager. It was part of a larger solo trip around South Korea. I asked him if this was something that many kids did at that time, like a rite of passage. But he told me, as far as he knew, he was the only one that he knew of. Here’s his story in the form of an interview.

So I imagine that Jeju was not the highly developed resort island that it is now.

No, there were no resorts then. It was 1961. Korea was a war-torn nation, just 8 years after the civil war. We were one of the poorest nations in the world.

What did people make back then?

The Korean GNP per capita was about $120 then. Countries like Vietnam and the Philippines had triple that. Even North Korea was at $350. Now Korea ranks as the 13th largest economy in the world. It really is a miracle.

It’s hard to imagine what it was like.  I guess people didn’t take vacations much then.

When I was growing up, it was still a poverty-stricken, wartime atmosphere, even though there was a cease-fire.

I know all the men still have to serve a few years in the military. Was it more militarized back then?

Oh yeah. All the high schools of the nation were organized as military units. Our school numbered around 3,000 students, or about the size of an army regiment and it was organized as such. I was the regiment commander my senior year, in 1962. I was seventeen years old.

I see. Then being a commander probably gave you some confidence to travel around on your own.

Well, I traveled around the year before that.  But I had a 2nd degree black belt in judo.

That helps. But still, you were only a teenager.

I traveled alone to Jeju when I was sixteen, a high school junior. It was no-money travel.

You mean, you didn’t have any money on that trip!? Then how did you get all the way down to Jeju?

First, I snuck onto a train from Seoul to Busan [a major port city on the southern coast]. I stayed at my aunt’s house for a few days there. Then, I stowed away onto a boat to Jeju from Busan. From the Jeju port, I walked east to Segue-po, then crossed over Mt Halla to Cheju city.

Did you sneak onto buses too?

No, I mostly walked. It took me seven days to walk around the island and another two days to hike up Mt Halla. I mostly slept in town halls, begging for free food, and sometimes I snuck onto public transportation.

How was that hike up to Mt Halla. I didn’t have a chance to get up there.

On Mt Halla, I was almost frozen dead since I didn’t realize the weather was drastically different than the hot and humid lowlands. There was ice at the top of the mountain. I was lucky to come across a hiking group. They were employees of the city bank in Cheju. They lent me blankets and gave me food.

Wow, bankers saved your life on the mountain. How did you survive traveling around the coast?

I traveled around cities and villages on the west side of the Island from there. It was the middle of a hot summer. There were a lot farmers working in the fields. I remember it was harvest season for green onions and potatoes. I helped them in exchange for food. But I hardly remember the Jeju food.

You must have eaten abalone and pork. I couldn’t get away from them.

That’s true. I had never eaten pork until I came to Jeju. The Jeju pork was so delicious, enough to change my food tastes.

Since it was summer, was it easy to find places to sleep?

I was sometimes able to find a place to sleep if I was lucky. The city halls or community halls were good places to sleep. The officers were kind enough to let me stay overnight, and they even shared some of their meals. They looked kindly on a high school student from Seoul, where most of them had never been, but wanted to go some day.

It sounds like being able to talk to the locals was no problem.

Actually, I could barely communicate with Jeju native people since their dialect was very far from standard Korean. However, there was always someone who was able to speak standard Korean. They were mostly veterans who learned standard Korean while in military service.

What an amazing adventure. How do you think that trip shaped who you are today?

I learned many lessons from that trip. The most important thing that I learned was, “Don’t be afraid of anything. Just try it.”

The photo is of my parent’s honeymoon in Jeju.  The boy in the middle is a relative, not me.  I don’t know why the picture came out streaky on flickr, but I can’t get rid of it.  Oh well.