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Published: August 29th 2012
On my 2009 SEA-trip, I'd already visited most of Peninsular Malaysia's West, so the logical thing to do on this trip was to head to the East Coast. Our first stop is Cherating, a pleasant little village on the Northeastern edge of Pahang state, bordering on the state of Terengganu. To get there, we take a bus from KL's Pudu Sentral Bus Station to Kuantan, roughly four hours eastwards. Once there, we jump on a decrepit local bus towards Kuala Terengganu and tell the metrosexual ticket collector to be so friendly as to tell the driver to drop us off at the right stop for Cherating. Less than an hour later, we are dumped on the roadside and make our way to the centre of the village.
After a few tries, we find a chalet that's quite good value for money. We chat to the friendly owner, all the while marvelling at his strange appearance. He has a shock of salt-and-pepper curly hair, discoloured salmon shorts, no shirt but a big potbelly, thick glasses and some sort of cushioned flippers around his elbows. In between his talking, he sometimes spits a little towards me just before he starts a new
sentence, so I'm moving back inconspicuously, as the spit seems to be travelling closer and closer. "Have you heard of Tourette's Syndrome?", he asks, to which we say yes, we have. "Well, I have it. I've had it for years and years. That's why I'm wearing these. (He points to his flippers) I hit myself in the eye and detached my retina, that's why I need them. My eyesight got worse because of that. I can't see very well. I don't ask people for their names, so it's not too personal when I swear at them. So please, when I later say something like 'Hey German! Fuck off, you fucking dick!', don't be offended, ok? I can't control it." We tell him not to worry and go for lunch in a nearby restaurant.
Afterwards we take a little stroll along the beach, but not for long. The sun around noon is extremely strong, humidity is as high as can be, and we feel ourselves slowing down considerably. Even making the most simple decisions becomes a strenuous task. No wonder Malaysia isn't renowned for its philosophers and thinkers. How could anybody be bothered pondering life's big questions in that type
of climate? The locals play it smart and hide inside in close proximity to a fan until late afternoon, when they brave it and head out to meet friends or go buy groceries.
***
We discover a little artsy shop along the main street (discover is probably a bit too strong - it really is only a one-street town), and when we see that they offer batik classes, we decide to give it a go. Umi, the friendly owner, gets us a square piece of canvas each and we start drawing the outlines of our budding works of art. For this, we use a tool called tjanting, a type of wooden pen with a brass receptacle there to hold and dispense hot wax. You dip the end into the bowl containing the molten wax (mixed with resin), swirl it around for a bit to make sure the wax doesn't harden. You proceed to briefly test the line strength on a piece of dummy cloth, then draw the line on your fabric. It is a lot harder and I'm more clumsy than expected, so Umi has to keep helping me out until I become more
comfortable and at ease using the tjanting. Still, in the end, my lines are awkward and inconsistent, so Umi has to do her best and correct them where possible.
My design is a pretty random accumulation of waves, triangles and spirals, whereas J.'s is a lot more coherent with a monitor lizard as the centrepiece. After the lines are finished, we proceed to add the colours, which is a lot more fun than doing the outlines. Umi shows us how to mix and water down the colours on the fabric to achieve that distinctive batik-look. I pretty much rush through mine, happy to get it out of the way. J.'s approach is a lot more conscientious, and she really takes her time pondering which colours to use and how to apply them on the fabric. After I finish, I sit there watching her draw, with Umi observing the process closely and occasionally assisting, until I decide to shut my eyes for just a moment. When I wake up again, J. has finished her painting, and I'm happy to see it turned out quite impressive. We take a few pictures and thank Umi for her immense patience. She tells us
to come back at around 10pm, as the paintings have to get washed and ironed.
***
The owner of our guesthouse tells us that the night market in Kemaman, a bigger town roughly 25 minutes away, is worth checking out, so we walk up to the freeway and hitchhike. After a few minutes a family of four on a scooter stops. "You should be careful, it's not safe going in car of strangers. You never know what they're up to." the dad tells us. We assure them we will be, and off they ride again, the two little girls wedged in between the parents and waving at us.
It takes a while for a posh SUV to stop. A friendly-looking Malay man is the driver, and he agrees to take us to Kemaman. His name is Yusuf, and he's a civil engineer working in Kuala Terengganu, an oil town and the capital of Terengganu state. He went to university in England, and tells us about his travels through Europe during his time there. He says it's quite hard in his line of work, as he's away from his family for weeks at a
time.
When he hears that J. is from Australia, he drops a word that we hadn't heard before at that time, but would be confronted with a few more times afterwards in Malaysia: Lynas. We both thought he meant 'Lioness', and only after googling 'Australia Malaysia environment hate' did I encounter the correct name. Yusuf goes on to elaborate that Lynas is a rare earth-mining company who struck a dodgy deal with the Malaysian government to build a refinement facility in Kuantan. The locals only found out after everything was set in stone already - via a New York Times article. Needless to say, they were furious, not only due to not being consulted, but also and mainly because residents near a Mitsubishi-operated rare earth-mine in Bukit Merah (Perak state) started contracting leukaemia in disproportionate numbers and a high number of babies were born with birth defects. Subsequently, demonstrations against the facility were staged and currently, anti-Australian sentiment seems to be at an all-time high in Malaysia. It's all over the news in Malaysia, but in Australia, you don't see or hear anything about that, and not many Australians even know about Lynas. Strange, innit?
Yusuf drops us
off in Kemaman, but only after handing us his business card and inviting us to stay at his place if we make it to Kuala Terangganu. The night market turns out to be quite a bustling affair, with food and drink stalls abounding. We walk a few rounds to make up our minds what to eat, but when it hits 7:20pm, almost everybody starts packing up and proceeds to sit down and eat. We must have forgot it's Ramadan, or actually, we haven't, we just weren't aware that it would cause the night market to end so abruptly. I mean, what night market ends at 7:20pm? Fortunately, we find a place that's still open and manage to place the final order, a spicy egg sandwich. The owner of the stall punishes us for the delay in his fast-breaking by overcharging, which is a first for me in Malaysia. Nonetheless, I hand over the money grudgingly, as it was my own fault, I should have asked for the price before ordering.
With the market closed, there's nothing left for us to do but head back to Cherating. We try and hitchhike, but it's already turned dark, and the cars just
zip past, ignoring our outstretched arms. Local transport is patchy at best, even worse during Ramadan, so we can't hope to catch a bus at that time of the night. After about half an hour, we start walking along the road, hoping to find a better spot somewhere further up. Suddenly, a beat-up orange Proton, Malaysia's pride, stops next to us. I hesitate for a second, uncertain of the driver's motives. When I catch a glimpse of the young Chinese bloke behind the wheel waving at us, I go up and ask whether he's going to Cherating. He says yes, so we hop on, thanking him profusely for saving our butts.
"I was driving my work colleagues, when I saw you standing there. Sorry I couldn't come earlier, I had to drive them home first." We tell him there's no need to apologize, as we're happy he took us along in the first place. His name is Boon, although I thought it was Bee Hoon and J. understood Benny. He turns out to be another engineer working for a big oil company in Kemaman. His work cycle is 42 days of work straight, then 14 days off, then 42
days of work again. He takes us all the way to our guesthouse despite the fact that he stays in a hotel in Kemaman and that he didn't even have any business in Cherating. He asks if we have time the day after, as he wants to take us out to this excellent seafood restaurant. We agree, and he says he'd pick us up at 6:30pm.
***
That night, I am woken up by what sounds like something big scratching along the wall next to where I sleep on the bed. I turn on the headlamp that lies next to me, thinking a monitor lizard has somehow made it into our chalet through a crack in the floor. I wake up J., and together we check everywhere, but can't find anything, not even a frog or a cockroach. Shortly after we turn off the light, the scratching starts again, and it sounds like it's right next to my ear. In panic, I roll off the bed, turn on the light, but can't find anything. This goes on for the better part of the next two hours. Later, we hear a cat outside hissing and
screeching fearfully for about 30 seconds, until it stops suddenly. Whatever was out there must have taken the poor cat.
We spend the following day just chilling and catching up on sleep that the mysterious creature deprived us of the night before. Boon picks us up at the agreed time. We go back to Kemaman, where he takes us to one of the restaurants along the lake that specialize in stuffed crab. Once we're there, I confess to him that I don't eat dead animals, but he says it's alright, he'll order veggies for me and stuffed crab for J. and him. Boon brought a custard apple as an appetizer, in case we haven't tasted it before. He was even smart enough to get a really ripe one that's just perfect for eating. It's a very delicious fruit, a tad creamy and with a pleasant sweetness.
I get some really good fried rice and there's also tofu, bok choy, morning glory and chili squid on the side. We wash it all down with a refreshing cold barley drink. To reciprocate for him driving us around, we agreed that its our shout. J. already prepped me for a potential
shock, saying the stuffed crab will be really expensive. When the lady gives us the bill that says 43 ringgit, I look at it in confusion for a bit too long. Boon tells me we can split the bill if it's too much, but I tell him it's ok, I just didn't expect such a big feast to be that cheap.
***
My guidebook says: "There is something special about Cherating, but not everyone who visits here gets it - or wants to." A perfect example of one of those things that really grinds my gears when it comes to Lonely Planet. Don't get me wrong, I still use mostly LPs when I travel (strictly for reference only, not as words to live by), and as much as I genuinely like them, it is also for lack of a better alternative that I choose their books. I'm aware that they're about as true to their roots as Peter Garrett, but still they remain quite useful despite many of the more obvious flaws, like the frequent shocking map errors and the increased catering to upmarket and luxury tourists.
Pretentious BS like the above-mentioned, however,
makes me want to chuck it into one of Malaysia's open sewers, shred it to confetti or leave it at a hostel book exchange for the first pitiful fool to pick it up. There is something special about every place, and of course not everybody 'gets it', or cares. 'Getting it' is a highly personal process that differs from individual to individual anyway. Most people get, say, Vang Vieng. Cheap booze, tubing down a river, 'Friends' on endless repeat all over town, Happy Pizzas, loose hippie bitches? What's not to get about that?! I, on the other hand, don't get it. So what's the point of such an elitist, pretentious statement? Does it serve as proof that they're something special for people who are laid back and lazy enough to enjoy a low-key little beach town like Cherating? Or is it just another mantra for the backpacker/flashpacker hordes? They have to get it, otherwise they don't belong. Lucky I don't mind not belonging. LP really shits me sometimes.
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littlewing
Cindy
Ah, yes another of our dirty little secrets
GREAT blog - you're right, the Aus mining offshore thing is disgraceful. No bother for us tho, we are all riding the boom getting rich here...at the rest of the worlds expense. Looking forward to your next blog :)