One Week in KL - and Back to the Big City

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Transportation Woes

Leaving an island seems like it should be an easy thing to do - just get to land. The “ferry” picked up from the island to return us to the mainland at 8am, noon, and 4pm. We wanted to catch a 9am bus to Kuala Lumpur. We spoke to two bus ticket agents on the island about whether we would catch the bus if we took the 8am ferry. One said “no problem.” The other said, it depends on the weather; if it is bad, the ferry may be delayed, and may not go at all. If we bought a ticket for the bus and we missed it because of bad weather, our ticket was invalid for the next bus, which was not until at 8pm anyway, and arrived at 5am in KL. So, we made no plans whatsoever for our arrival on the mainland. We went down to the beach around 7:30am to ensure we were able to get on the 8am boat. We boarded a water taxi, which dropped us on a boat a little father out in the cove. The boat had no captain and no other passengers, so for a period of time we just sat there on the boat alone. A few more tourists arrived and eventually a captain. Then, at about 8am we were asked to move from our boat to another boat that pulled alongside. When we finally started up, we stopped a few minutes later at the big island to pick up two more people. Then, we stopped at another dock at the big island where the two who just boarded were asked to move to another boat. Then, they asked some of us to go onto the new boat. At this point we were pretty sure we would be missing the bus to KL. The boat we were on would be making one more stop before heading to the mainland, but the new boat would go straight there. So, we hopped on the new boat. For those keeping score, we have now been on four boats and it was not even 8:15am. When the jetty at Kuala Besut was insight, we were told to make sure our life jackets were secure - not for an emergency - the polis were doing random searches and pulled us over to apparently check registration and safety practices. We finally arrived on the dock at 9:00 and walked immediately to a ticket agent, who told us the bus to KL had no seats available. Okay, after all that, Plan B.

At this point, we took a taxi for a few bucks to the closest “city” - Jerteh. Jerteh has a large bus station, or so we were told, and we can get buses from there to anywhere. Our Plan B was that if we could not make it all the way to KL, we would head south to another beach area for two nights, and then head to KL on Saturday. The taxi dropped us off on a side street which has five or six ticket agents and no buses. It did not look like the big Jerteh city bus station we were expecting. I hopped out of the taxi and a friendly, waiting passenger assured us that we could get tickets to any destination and that this was where the KL bus picked up. After much confusion and haggling we managed to secure two tickets on a bus to KL that left about fifteen minutes after we arrived. The bus was not as nice as the one from Penang to Kota Bharu, but it was good enough for a nine hour ride. Oh, and I believe the bus we boarded started in Kuala Besut, at the jetty, so essentially we took a taxi that moved faster than the bus to catch the same bus we could have boarded in Kuala Besut. And, surprisingly, there were seats available despite what the ticket agent told us when we left the ferry. No harm, no foul.

Ok, next - we were half way through our trip to KL and we stopped at a rest stop for lunch. When we boarded the bus to continue the journey we were told the air conditioning was not working (although it was completely working until the driver turned off the engine) and we were asked to board the bus next to ours. We think both buses were less than half full and they wanted to save the petrol the rest of the way. If they had just told us that we would have moved buses no problem, but I did not appreciate the fabrication. After another four hours or so we arrived in KL. Finally. But, from this point we needed to walk from the bus station to the light rail station, take the light rail two stops to the monorail station. Then, we took the monorail to the neighborhood of our hotel and walked the rest of the way.

Again, for those of you keeping score, we took four boats, a taxi, two buses, two types of train, and walked to get from the island to KL. To say we were exhausted when we arrived was an understatement. I do not think we have used so many different kinds of transport in one day - ever. If only there were horses or rickshaws available, we would have used that too! We were thinking of Brady, who loves using new forms of public transportation in different cities. This would have been right up his alley.

Back to Civilization

We were the dirtiest and stinkiest we have been to date on this trip when we arrived in KL. As much as we love the beach and beautiful islands, we were not pleased with what happened on the Perhentians with the whole diving thing, and we were very welcome to be back in civilization. To celebrate our return to big city life, we booked the Westin Kuala Lumpur on points - we might as well get something from all of the travel Eric did over the last few years. We returned to full air conditioning, nice clean sheets, and the executive lounge for free food and drinks. Eric was in the shower right after we arrived and yelled out to me with pure jubilation “look, there’s no toilet in the shower.”

Back to civilization also meant back to running errands - hitting the pharmacy, getting laundry done (I actually felt bad dropping off the laundry because our clothes smelled so disgusting after the mustiness of our chalet on the island), paying bills on the internet, etc. We even went to see our first movie since leaving the US (Night at the Museum 2 - cute film and crazy cheap, less than $3 and a large coke was less than $1). In KL, being back in civilization meant visas. On our first full day we stopped at the Indonesian embassy to get a visa so that we could stay longer than thirty days in Indonesia. We were warned ahead of time to dress conservatively, including no shorts, no sandals, and no t-shirts. We arrived in the morning, and of course, did not have all of the right information, so we had to go back to the hotel, and return to the embassy, and we still needed more information. We finally got everything right, and had to return one more time to pick up our passports at the end of the day. In the end, we succeeded. Riding the wave of an eventual successful visa application for Indonesia, we pushed our luck to try for a visa to go to India.

We have spent a great deal of time researching how to get a visa for India. According to the embassy’s website all visa applications have been “outsourced.” The humor was not lost on us. The Singaporean and Thailand visa service centers would only provide visas for Singaporean and Thai residents. It was unclear whether the service center in KL would help us. If not, our other option was to, apparently, send our passports to the US for processing, which was obviously not a realistic option. So, we put all of our faith (and even requested help from some of the Hindu gods at the Batu Caves) in the service center. They could do it, but it would take five business days for us to receive “clearance” and then an additional two business days to drop off and pick up our passports to have the actual visa stamp. We were annoyed because we had not planned on going to India, but have spent over four months watching “Incredible India” commercials that have made it a downright necessity that we travel there. It is really not fair for them to have such great advertising and simultaneously make it a pain in the ass to get there. It meant in the end that we would be spending at least an extra week in Malaysia before finally getting to Indonesia.

As much as we missed the big city life, the big city is exhausting. It was hot, which did not help. We took the monorail everywhere, because our hotel was not near the light rail line. The attractions, neighborhoods, and markets were not generally near the monorail. We walked a lot every day. And, we were out most of the day, and again at night. Walking, walking, walking. By the end of our stay in KL, our legs were exhausted. We swore to ourselves that we would take advantage of the gym at the hotel but even when we woke in the morning our legs were throbbing. Sometimes I see myself as Goldilocks - the small town life is too small and constricting, but the big city life is exhausting because of the distances that need to be covered between all of the sights we want to see. We had the same issue in Sydney, Hanoi, Ho Chi Minh City, etc. When will I find the city that is “just right”?

Introduction to Hinduism

Our one uber-touristy thing was to take a trip out to the Hindu Batu caves, about 15 km outside of KL. The caves were discovered many moons ago by an American and several Hindu temples have since then been constructed inside and around the grounds. As I mentioned in Penang, we have not been to many Hindu temples and although we read up on the religion a bit, it is still a mystery to me. I simply cannot keep track of all the different gods and what they mean. More than this, though, I am unfamiliar with the customs and practices of worshippers and what types of offerings are made. Seeing the Batu caves is like a pilgrimage for many Hindus. It starts with a climb up 272 steps to the top of the cave. To the right is an enormous golden statute of Muruga, or Lord Subramaniam. At the base of the statute and all up the stairs were lots of monkeys, which made Eric quite happy. Once in the cave, the “main temple” was fairly unremarkable. It was a small shrine with worshippers saying prayers and being blessed by a temple priest. At the top of the cave we climbed more stairs to another larger temple. We watched for awhile to get an idea of what the procedure was. It seemed people were making donations to the temple and in return were receiving a small cup of burning oil to place near the shrine. The temple priest would then place his thumb on their head leaving a red mark. After we descended back through the cave, there was another small temple near the entrance. The temple priest was not taking care of any blessings so I tried to ask the priest what the worshippers were asking for, which gods they were praying to and what was the blessing? He did not speak much English, so instead of answering, he blessed us. He placed his thumb into a warm oil and touched our forehead, then placed white and then red powder on top of the oil. He said it was a blessing for long life, for husband and wife, and for “good in business.” Well, I still did not understand which god was at this particular temple, but I took the blessings happily away.

As we walked down the stairs we saw one Hindu man who was climbing the 272 stairs on his knees. That is devotion. At the base of the stairs someone was having their wedding at another temple. We walked the grounds a bit more to stop at some of the other temples - each different from the last. The guide book said there were several more caves with “psychedelic” paintings and artwork that we wanted to see, but there was a charge to cross a turtle pond to see them. The ticket office had numerous signs showing how many reptiles and snakes you could see by walking to the other temples. With my fear of snakes, we declined. Instead, we struck up a conversation with an Indian doctor who has been living in New Zealand for several years. He had 24 hours in KL during a layover between his flight from India back to Auckland. He explained a little but more about the difference between the temple priests, who were taking the prayers from the worshipers and sending them to the gods, and gurus, who preach. He explained the importance of the main group of gods, including Shiva and Ganesha. It was a start, but I still want to understand more. If any of my Hindu friends out there could enlighten me, I would appreciate it. I bought a Hindu for dummies book to prepare for Bali and India. I feel like due to our travels through Asia I have a better understanding of Buddhism now than before, so hopefully I can continue to learn more about Hinduism.

Markets and Street Food

Our tour through KL continued our great streak of good eats. I don’t think we ate in an actual restaurant with four walls during our entire stay. We had our free breakfast and happy hour snacks at the executive lounge at the Westin. In addition to that, we hit Chinese food stalls in the Golden Triangle area on Jalan Alor. There are complaints from the locals that the prices are too high because of its proximity to the fancy hotels and shopping malls. I agreed. Our first meal included some bbq pork, that was not only expensive, but was loaded with fat. We were not impressed. We found a good deal, though, on some dim sum a few times at Restoran 1+1 with Chinese tea, bbq pork buns, mushroom sticky rice, and other little dumplings. In Chinatown we tried clay pot chicken rice, which was quite tasty.

We were also introduced to mixed curry dishes, which seem like a combination of Indian and Malay food. The first place we tried it was in the traditional Malay neighborhood. We took the monorail towards the neighborhood, had no idea where we were walking, and just started down the street. We felt pretty quickly that it was a bad idea because most shops were closed on the main road. But, we found a street with a few produce stands and street stalls and tried some gooey gelatinous coconut concoction. We then happened upon a buffet style outdoor restaurant. As we were picking out dishes from the buffet I saw a bright red chili pepper dish and asked what it was. Another customer warned us that it would probably be too spicy for our western palates, so of course we had to try it. It was incredible. I wanted to tell the customer who warned us that it was no problem, but I did not want to gloat. The chicken curry and rice was also pretty tasty. Finally, I felt pretty sure that we had a traditional Malay dish - until we found out it was Indonesian. At several other places we walked up to a similar buffet where they scooped on a pile of white rice and dipped a spoon into several different curry sauces to create a mixed curry on the plate. Then, you can ask for one or two kinds of protein (Eric’s favorite was fried chicken) and some vegetables, including a bright and unnaturally yellow cabbage dish that was great. It was a giant plate of food for the equivalent of $3-$5. Again, not sure if it was typical Malay because the restaurants also served curries, masala, and nan. No idea. Malaysia was certainly not helping us with losing weight. We returned to the Malay area for the Sunday Night Market, which was actually on Saturday night, but called the Sunday Night Market because it ends so late on Saturday. We tried murtabak, a chicken mixture folded inside of a filo dough and grilled.

We also became pretty used to not ordering beer with any meals - still on our budget. Even in KL, the beer was pretty expensive because of sin taxes. Instead, we started trying all kinds of fruity beverages, the most unique of which was called serap, which is pronounced and tastes like “syrup.” It is a bright red syrup mixed with a heap of sugar, melted with boiling hot water, and poured over ice. It reminded us of Kool-Aid, where the main ingredient is unnatural redness and an entire pound of sugar. I tried an apple-flavored juice made with milk that was pretty good. We also continued our consumption of lots of tea, including tea tarik - tea with condensed milk. The happy hours at the hotel probably helped, but we were not missing going out for drinks at night.

Chinatown, Reflexology, Fakes, and Haircuts

I think Chinatown in KL is pretty infamous. We did not know what to expect when we stepped off the monorail line, but it seemed pretty quiet at first sight. I was hoping not to be disappointed, like we were in Little India. We blinked and missed it. Or, we could never find it in the first place, not sure which. As we followed the map towards the center of Chinatown, we were met with a wall to wall night market. Now I understood why Rain, the concierge, suggested Chinatown for good deals on Louis Vuitton and Gucci. The main drag was wall to wall cheap goods - wallets, t-shirts, sunglasses, flip-flops, and of course fake handbags as far as the eye could see. I have to admit that the fakes were of particularly good quality. If I were looking for a knock-off this is where I would go. The one exception was knock-off Tod’s bags, which read “Tou’s” instead.

We stopped to catch our breath in an opening of the street stalls and saw a reflexology advertisement. We had wanted to try it since we saw it on, of course, Anthony Bourdain. So, we popped in for thirty minutes, confirming several times that it was not just a foot massage, but was in fact reflexology. We were assured we would find out in the end if anything was wrong with us - the masseuse would tell the manager, who would translate it. We settled in for some real pain. Thank goodness it was only thirty minutes because at some points I thought I would start crying. Now, we have both had acupuncture in the US, and I think it works. I would say I buy into it. Reflexology, it turns out, would take some more convincing. In the end, I was told I needed more sleep (I mean, come on, I have been sleeping a good 8-10 hours a night with occasional naps). Eric was informed that he had problems with his shoulder, kidneys, and stomach - but with no real specifics. It was suggested I get more sleep (that is just not possible) and Eric drinks more water. I took it with a grain of salt, but Eric talked the rest of the night about how he needs to live it up because he is dying. What am I going to do without him? I assured him I would collect the life insurance and continue traveling, in his memory. I had to hear it from Eric for almost two hours, until, when we were a few blocks from the hotel my heart arrhythmia kicked in for a few minutes and my heart started racing. Then, he stopped joking about his health. I knew he was not dying.

The following day, after applying for clearance for our Indian visas, we walked through the Central Market, on the edge of Chinatown. Central Market was initially KL’s wet market - produce, fish, meat, etc. It has been renovated into a market for all kinds of crafts and souvenirs. Some good, some crap from China. I have wanted to buy a batik painted sarong, but feel like I cannot tell the difference between the good and the crap. This shopping experience did not help. Instead, we stopped for some lemongrass tea at a café and played a game of checkers before continuing through to Chinatown. On a whim I saw another advertisement and decided to get a great $7 hair cut. My last haircut was at the beginning of January, and I was certainly due. It was a nicely decorated and modern place, not like Eric’s $1 haircut in Phnom Penh. I knew not to expect a haircut exactly like Joanie back in Chicago, who usually cuts my hair so that it can be parted on both sides. This guy did not do that. So, the first time I ran my hands through my hair and created a more natural part chunks of my hair were hanging on the right side of my head about two inches below the bottom. The cut was acceptable overall, but I did give myself a bit of a trim with the Swiss army knife back at the hotel. Although I had been tempted to buy a good looking Louis the night before, and I was feeling good that I was healthy after my reflexology “exam,” no other purchases were made in Chinatown other than my acceptable but uneven haircut.

Petronas Towers

One thing we passed on in KL was scaling to the top of the Petronas Towers. Now, I thought the buildings were attractive, particularly lit up at night. We loved the view of the Towers from our hotel room - so much so that Eric wanted to sleep with our curtains open. The Towers looked like two giant tiered wedding cakes, and who doesn’t like wedding cakes? Okay, virtually no one likes wedding cakes. And, along the same line, people who live in Chicago look at tall buildings quite skeptically. Looking at the Towers from the hotel we wondered how tall they actually were. We knew the Towers were the tallest buildings in the world until Tapei 101 in Taiwan, and now there is a new building in Dubai being built. According to the rules (and Wikipedia) which dictate the definition of the tallest building, the Sears Tower has more floors and I believe if you include the antennae it is actually taller. The Petronas Towers only have eighty eight floors whereas the Sears Tower has higher occupied floors, I believe 105 stories. Even the Hancock building has 96 stories. However you slice it our admiration of the Petronas Towers was under protest purely because we live in Chicago. Then, we found out you cannot even go to the top of the Towers. Instead, you can only climb to the Skybridge - the bridge that connects the two buildings. Now, that is a novelty, but it is only forty-one stories high. In Chicago, I worked on the thirty-seventh floor. To me, that is not exciting enough. Tickets to the Skybridge were free and were available on a first come, first serve basis. But, the tickets were usually gone first thing in the morning. Keeping all of this in mind, we boycotted the view from the top (or from half way up) and instead, walked around the base and explored the park that surrounds it.

Introduction to Islam

Although I have read several books on Islam, I am still a novice in understanding the religion. The books I have read about Muslims in Iraq, Pakistan, and Afghanistan were historical, but told in the format of a novel. I feel I have more knowledge about Muslim practices than most Americans who only know about the religion from the fear and dollar driven media and the rantings of George W. That said, like Hinduism, it is a religion I would like to know more about. One night, while at Restoran 1+1 on Jalan Alor, enjoying some Chinese tea and dim sum, a Muslim man approached us asking us to buy some paintings, which included generic floral designs and some very large paintings of Jesus Christ. We sort of laughed him off since we did not plan on hanging either on our walls at home. He spoke English, but I wished he spoke English better. We engaged in a lengthy discussion about religion and in particular Islam for probably close to 45 minutes. It started with him commenting that many Americans do not tend to hang religious art in their homes, which I would agree with. It is much more common in Asia to have art and personal temples or shrines for Buddhism and Hinduism in your home and workplace. He asked where we were from in the US, and our general response is Chicago, like Barrack Obama. He then asked whether Obama was Muslim. I think he was disappointed in the response, but we pointed out that he has lived in Indonesia, and his father was Kenyan, blah blah blah. We asked him some questions about Islam in general. He studied Islam during college and gave lengthy descriptions about all of the prophets and the books of Islam. I will say that most of it we could not understand because his English was just not good enough for us to comprehend everything. If I were a typical, fearful, ignorant American I would be bothered by how many times he used the words kill, killing, or killed - to describe various stories about the Jews, Mohammed, Mohammed’s uncle, Fatima, other prophets, etc. I could not tell who was doing the killing and who was being killed, it was just disheartening to hear so much violence in his words. I have spent a great deal of time talking about my reading thus far on Islam to explain to people that the religion is quite peaceful and not all Muslims are Al-Queda or Osama. His descriptions bothered me. I did get the impression that he was not a big fan of Israel, which I was not surprised about. Once the conversation escalated to a particular level, Eric and I both felt comfortable enough to really start asking some more detailed questions. I mean no disrespect in any of these questions, or how I characterize his responses, to any of my Muslim friends out there. In fact, please comment and clarify because I do want to learn.

My first question, early in the conversation, was that I don’t understand why Muslim mosques have a separate prayer room for women. My specific problem was that there was not a male mosque and a female mosque, but the women were lowered to a prayer room. His response was simply, men and women are just different because women menstruate and have babies. Okay, my follow up question as to why that should make a difference while praying was not met with a satisfactory answer. My other gender question was just a simple request as to why Muslim women wear a headscarf but men don’t. He said that Fatima, who I believe was Mohammed’s mother, wore a headscarf and one day some of her hair fell out of the scarf. As a result, that day the sun did not shine. Interesting. I asked him why men could have many wives and women only one husband. The most practical of his answers - because a man can have sex with many wives and you know that if she is pregnant who the father is. If a woman has many husbands there is no way of knowing who the father of the child is. I would be curious if that reasoning was in the Qur’an.

Eric told him he was Catholic, and I told him I was hypothetically Jewish to see how he felt about us. What was most interesting is that his response was always “Mohammed says . . .” or “Mohammed believes . . .” When we tried to press him on what he thinks and believes, not what Mohammed says, he replied he is a follower of Mohammed. Enough said. Christians are the friends of Muslims, and I think he said they are the “second” religion because Islam recognizes Jesus, but only as prophets. When discussing the relationship between Muslims and Buddhists, he described Buddha as a “nice guy” but not a god. Eric replied, of course, that he would like to be part of a religion that worships a nice guy. No problem there. At the start of the meal we offered him some tea from our pot. He accepted. But, during the conversation we noticed he had not touched it. When he later described that it was okay for non-Muslims to drink alcohol or eat particular foods that he could not eat or drink with non-Muslims. Eric told him he felt offended that we offered him tea and he would not drink with us, because I had never heard of the inability to share tea between Muslims and non-Muslims. In fact, I read “Three Cups of Tea” about Pakistan and Afghanistan. It’s right there in the title. When confronted he said he could not drink the tea because it affects his complexion. In the end, it was the kind of conversation I long for while traveling, to learn more about different cultures and belief systems. I do plan on reading more about Islam, and in particular the role of women in the religion. This was an interesting start.

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Photos

The Towers From the Monorail
They are everywhere - like they follow us - with two eyes!

Giant Golden God
Outside the Baku Caves

Hindu Gods
Over the walkway up to the caves.

272 Steps
The steps are numbered so you know how far you have to go.

A Blatant Lie
This sign was at the top of the steps to the caves, but there was one more set of stairs to the back temple.

Monkey Time
Again, creationism, really? He is holding a bag of chips between his feet while eating.

Eric's Blessing
In front of his favorite statue so far - big green and, surprisingly monkey like.

Street Food
Eric's sweet and sour chicken on a hot dog bun with cole slaw and mayo - not very Asian, but very tasty, and messy.

Food on a Stick
At a market near "Little India"

My Uneven Haircut
After my extra snipping.

Rain Showers
From our other hotel room - after the upgrade went through.

Petronas Towers
Made of Legos.

The View
From our hotel room

Tom and the Towers
In a very artsy fartsy photo.

Comments

[Lana]

Nice blog, especially for me visitng KL soon, what realy was shocking is the man who was answering your questions about Islam, and you thought it was informative, i don't know bit he has the lamest answers in the whole world not to mention wrong enjoy your trip .............. GOOD LUCK

[Ellie from KL]

Don't believe that stupid man
Hi Amber, I'm a muslim woman, on the answers by the muslim man you met in KL, please don't believe what he said. He had given you such stupid answers. He needs to go back to school and learn more about his religion. Not all muslim are knowledgable about their religion and some are even more ignorant than non-muslim.

[amy]

i agree with Ellie. dont believe the man. if you want to know the truth about islam you should ask the ustaz (more religious man like a priest ) instead of asking some random muslim man on the street. i am happy to know that you are interested to understand Islam.

[stranger]

Willing to help clarify about Islam
Hello, I was reading your blog and it was nice. My attention was caught on your experience to learn Islam from a person from the street. Bad mistake. So feel free to email me if you wish to learn more about Islam. Take care.