Malaysia

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I landed in Malaysia by default, with no plans and limited expectations. Flying from Sydney, Kuala Lumpur was the cheapest place I could find a ticket, so with days to kill and a budget not well suited for the Australian economy, I headed to Malaysia. As it turns out, it was not only an easy place to travel, but also provided a great introduction to Asian culture and cuisine.

Malaysia has one of the strongest economies in South East Asia, the roads are good and the buses arrive on time, and English is widely-spoken. I found the people generally friendly and helpful, the cuisine divine, and the landscape diverse. Moreover, Malaysia is home to a fascinating mix of cultures, including Chinese and Indians (brought by the British for the tin mining industry during their rule), Malays, indigenous Orang Asli (meaning “original people”), and many other smaller tribal groups from the Sarwak and Sabah provinces of Borneo. The state religion is Islam (which most of the Malays practice), but Buddhists, Hindus, Christians, and Animists are also represented. The unique ethnic mix creates a dynamic and diverse cultural landscape that, for the most part, seems to function with out major unrest.

My first stop in Malaysia was the fast-paced city of Kuala Lumpur. “KL” was reminiscent of so many cities I have visited around the world - the sky was permanently hazy with smog and humidity, and the traffic and noise from cars, taxis, and motorcycles relentless; tall grimy white apartment complexes sandwiched between glitzy skyscrapers and historic buildings had power lines draped and tangled from every corner, and the smell of stagnant, trash-clogged drains permeated the air; hawker food stalls filled with tempting treats lined nearly every street, and vendors selling everything from wind-up poodles to English rugby jerseys beckoned weary traveller’s to their booths. It was an exhilarating and terrifying place to explore.

My first morning in KL I headed to the Petronas Towers, which, until 2003, were the tallest buildings in the world. Standing 442 meters in the air, the buildings were built with a design symbolizing the five Pillars of Islam. From afar, they buildings did indeed resemble giant silver mosques, their sleek curves of iron and steel perching high into the sky and tickling the heavens with their tips. The towers’ ultra modern design housed a fancy shopping mall and numerous financial offices, an odd juxtaposition to the buildings’ representation as symbols of Islam.

On my way back down to the ground floor, I started chatting with two Malaysian teachers who were on holiday in KL from the province of Sabah. Before I could say no, they were whisking me off to their grandmother’s home outside the city for a delicious Malaysian lunch of fish stew, beef, broccoli, and egg custard. I was having a good time practicing my Malay with the ladies, until their older brother, a blackjack dealer from a local casino, arrived and began to dominate the conversation. He insured me he could teach me a “foolproof” way to win thousands playing blackjack, so long as I promised him half of my profits. The conversation was all fun and games until he told me he was going to invite this guy who had ripped him off last week over to the house to play a round of blackjack against who else…me! I tried to laugh it off and say that I wasn’t interested, but within than thirty seconds of my more assertive decline, the family was hopping in the car and driving me back to the city. I’m still not sure if they woman were just nice people with a crazy brother, or if they thought that an American girl would be a great target for a quick jump at some cash.

Back in the city with a tummy full of food, I escaped the stifling heat and commotion of the city with a wander through KL’s Central Market where I admired the beautiful fabrics, tacky souvenirs, and crafts from China, Malaysia, Indonesia, and India - indeed many world’s meet in Malaysia. I sat in an upstairs cafe watching folks as they chatted away in several different languages and dialects, some of the woman sporting tank top dresses, others with their hair covered with colorful head scarves or veils, still others in saris.

From the market, I walked down the street to bustling Chinatown, a claustrophobic’s worst nightmare with vendors and shoppers packed together in crowded aisles of merchandise. Anything I couldn’t find or afford at the Petronas Shopping Mall was certainly available here, and for about a third the price! As I strolled along, the enchanting aroma of fried rice, bbq pork, sauteed veggies, and fresh fruit juices lingered all around me.

After two days of trying to negotiate the chaos and exuberance of KL, I had a choice: head to Malaysia’s tropical beaches, world famous rainforests, or to the agricultural highlands. Farm junkie that I am, I hopped in a bus and headed to the Cameron Highlands, the heart and soul of Malaysia’s agricultural production. Sitting 1800 meters above sea level, the air in the highlands was much thinner and fresher than the stifling heat of KL. A long and windy bus ride took me to the hill station town of Tanah Rata, where I found accommodation at “Father’s Guesthouse,” a popular backpacker destination that sits high on hill above town. My dorm bed was in a converted WWII army bunker which was surprisingly cozy, and certainly a good spot for sharing stories with other backpackers.

The farms of the highlands are an astounding agricultural feat - set amidst steep mountains covered with dense rainforest, the terrain would seem untamable to most farmers. But the local growers of the area, recognizing that the climate was well-suited for growing the cool-weather veggies popular in Asian cooking, set about to convert the landscape into a thriving and productive agricultural center. To make production feasible, they have stripped away large patches of rainforest from the vertical hillsides, and built a series of terraces that climb the hillsides like ladders. With space clearly a premium in this rugged landscape, nearly every nook and cranny is in cultivation and from afar, the hillsides look like a giant patchwork quilt of colorful crops and rainforest jungle.

A free trade agreement with China several years ago lowered the value of Malaysian crops and threatened to dismantle the highlands farming industry. To combat the problem, many local farmers adopted the high-yield/low input technique of hydroponics, in which crops are grown in water. While this has revolutionized the productive capacity of the area, it has also diminished their quality of taste by giving the crops a watered-down flavor. The farmers have also figured out a relatively disease-free method for growing strawberries year-round: they place the plants in plastic bags filled with coconut pith (the husks) and elevate them on platforms above the ground.

Another dominant feature of the landscape are several enormous tea plantations that roll over the landscape in long rows like pickle green carpet or wrinkled astroturf. I vistited a tea plantation to learn more about the process: tea plants are actually perennial bushes that are kept tame and hedge-like with clippers. Individual leaves are picked by hand and placed into large basket-like backpacks by the woman working the fields. They are then taken to the processing plant where they are smashed and dried to make a tasty final product. After the tour, I sat on the deck of the plantation's tea room and enjoyed a cup of freshly-brewed tea and strawberry tart and admired the verdant landscape below.

Aside from sipping tea and touring farms, I also went on a guided walk through the jungle to take a refreshing dip in a waterfall. Along the way, I saw many flowering orchids, and the carnivorous “monkey cup” flower, which can only be described as resembling a giant purple condom!

My last day in the highlands, I went on a tour to the visit a remote indigenous community of the "Orang Asli " people. The village was set in the foothills of the rainforest, and consisted of several raised bamboo "longhouses," where families of villagers cook meals and sleep. Because of the huts fragile building materials, they have to be rebuilt every three years. We were invited to the chief’s house to have tea, tapioca (a little like a sweet potato), and a large spiky fruit called a “durian” that has seeds that smell and taste a bit like a rotting fish! The chief showed us local crafts, and taught us how to use a blowpipe, which we practiced by trying to hit a distant target (an old flip flop pinned to the side of the house).

I spent my last night in Malaysia sharing a steamy bowl of Chinese noodles and fish and chatting about the state of the world with fellow backpackers. Tomorrow I head north to Thailand on a 24-hour bus ride - it should be an epic but adventurous journey! Until the next installment...

Mari

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