My Malaysian Crucible

My first encounter with Malaysia was in Hong Kong nearly twenty years ago when I ate a dish which so reminded me of my mum’s cooking. Since, I’ve met wonderful Malaysians; friends have talked about how much they’ve enjoyed Malaysia; eaten Malaysian food of varying quality but had yet to go and actually experience the country for myself. So, waiting at the airport at Bangkok to take the Air Asia flight was exciting. Unfortunately, like too many such anticipated journeys, there was a four hour flight delay. The token vouchers did not even get us a cup of coffee each and we promised ourselves, we would fly back with a different airline, given the airport we would arrive at in KL would be 20 km from the main international airport! So, it was that I landed on Malaysia soil in the dark. Coming out of the airport, getting a taxi proved to be not so straightforward. We got to a queue only to be told we had to go back to the arrivals’ lounge to get a prepaid ticket for our fare. That done, it took us nearly an hour to the city! The new airports are nowhere near town. We only discovered this as we passed a road sign saying 52 km Kuala Lumpur. The traffic was busy in moments but after the chaos of our now native Cairo, everything felt quite relaxed and orderly. Long before we entered the city, we started seeing the famous Petronas Towers. They looked like jewels in the skyline. Much more ornate than I had expected. I did wonder what impression they would make in daylight.

Our hotel was a swish modern affair. Arriving so late, we ordered room service and I started my culinary experience with a fabulous noodle soup. Husband ordered Nasi Lemak which became his staple throughout our visit (a rice based dish with either a beef or chicken rending and a medley of East Asian condiments including friend anchovies). The plate looked like a work of art even though there was nothing Michelin star about it! We felt immediately the culinary aspect of the visit would be worthwhile.

Breakfast was served buffet style and we noticed immediately that there were very few western tourists. They looked mainly Chinese, Indian and Middle Eastern. There were more children than I expected given it was a corporate hotel. The service, however, was swift and I liked the card on the tables which read, ‘I’m still hungry’ in green and ‘I’m done eating’ in red. Fantastic touch I thought for them to know when they could clear up. All you had to do was flip the card when you left the table. Original touch indeed.

Our first full day involved being gobsmacked by the Towers. Walking out of the hotel on one side, right before us, were the towers. Tall, elegant and stunningly striking. On one side, there was the KLCC landscaped park and the Suri Mall. On the other, another public space before another entrance to the Mall. There later that day, we encountered a group of wonderful singing ladies. They caught my eye as they were all veiled with beige headscarves. Once I approached them to take a picture, they asked where I was from. They then told me they were from Sumatra, Indonesia. One asked to take a picture with me. I told them I really liked their singing so they started singing again. Delighted, I videoed them and they performed happily. Their easygoing joyous nature was infectious and I left the towers smiling and being glad I had met them on my first day in this part of the world.

KL is a sparkling place. The area where we were was utterly swanky and modern. There was a great deal of residential towers being built and we actually looked out onto building work. The sight made me think of our former apartment but looking out onto it, all seemed under control and buildings here clearly got completed! We also visited the Aquarium as I am rather partial to seeing beautiful fishes. Not being a good swimmer and having never snorkelled never mind dive, this may seem a peculiar interest of mine, but I find aquariums rather restful places. Of course, being the holiday season, there were too many children, but it was a fascinating place wonderfully presented. The highlight had to be 90m long moving walkway underwater tunnel. That maybe the closest I ever get to diving!

The area of Merdeka Square is a real hotch potch of architectural styles. The mock Tudor pavilion from colonial times with the cricket pitch has to be one of the most incongruous things I have yet seen in a city surrounded by so much mirrored steel high-rise. Yet, all of it seems to fit and because everything seemed out of place, the myriad of styles complimented each other.

The markets in KL, especially in the Chinese and Indian quarters were endlessly fascinating. I loved the dilapidated shop houses with their colourful array of fabrics and wares of all sorts. The shop keepers were friendly but not pushy. Everyone went about business in a businesslike manner yet you would be noticed if you seemed lost and help would be offered. Eastern folk are watchful and I found helpful. My favourite thing was seeing the array of headscarves and accoutrements. They were not like those worn in Egypt but seemed to be half a tennis cap with a scarf attached. The choice of shades and patterns was dizzying. I noticed nearly all ethnic Malays wore headscarves, even very young girls. I wondered if that was government policy. It is officially an Islamic country but I had thought wearing a headscarf was optional for grown up Muslim ladies. It struck me as somewhat unnecessary to make girls barely older than toddlers wear the scarf. We also noticed no pork was served at the hotel either at breakfast or in the restaurants. In a country of such cultural diversity, this seemed entirely unnecessary. Living in Egypt, we look forward to our bacon and pork! So, that was quite disappointing and unfortunately common everywhere we stayed.

Walking in the rain was also something else we enjoyed. There is something refreshing about a downpour in tropical climes and we had a few. For one such shower, we were in Little India and found ourselves in one of these local cheap food courts where clientele eat with the fingers and service is fast. We watched fascinated by what they were eating. These eateries reminded me of the tea shops in Burma and we stopped at one to shelter from the rain. A young berry brown boy approached us and we decided to order tea. It arrived in glass mugs with a clear layer of condensed milk at the bottom. Our joy was palpable. Husband had been dreaming about this having loved it in his youth and I had loved drinking it as a child in my own country. We looked at each other, stirred and sipped. For a long moment it seemed, we sat smiling...all for the price of 20p. Such pleasure at such a price!

Central Market, housed in a powder blue Art Deco building was also a wonderful place. The stalls are smartly set out and the haggling most civilised and good humoured. I spent quite some time in one and wanted to befriend the lady who managed to sell me nearly all her batik sarongs! She even altered a few dresses as I browsed around her shop of delights. I could imagine living and working in the city, enjoying my week-end forays doing such purchasing...

After four enjoyable nights in KL, we hired a taxi to take us to Melaka. My mother had raved about these place years before and it had become an almost fabled destination for me. The ride was nearly three hours and we passed lush tropical vegetation and most notably rubber plantations. However, approaching this UNESCO site, the traffic got rather dense. It took us nearly an hour to just cross the town!

Our hotel was a haven of colonial elegance, calm and warm hospitality. We were greeted by a smartly suited slim Chinese man with impeccable English telling me he would check us in himself. He offered me the New Year ‘soup’, as warm ginger syrup with jellied balls. It was quite delicious, warming and refreshing. His mannerisms assured me he was fabulously gay and I liked his rather naughty sense of humour. I felt like he’d been a friend for years. He was clearly the manager and before one of his minions took us to our room, he told me his name was Ben and anything I needed, not to hesitate to ask. The hotel rooms were in a tower behind the beautiful old Chinese mansion where the foyer and restaurant were situated. We passed the Spa which looked ridiculously luxurious. I promised myself a treatment later and enjoyed a long Malaysian massage which was preceded by a shampoo and hair massage.

The room itself has to be one of the most swelegant rooms I have ever stayed in. Four poster bed, colonial furniture and a bathroom set apart by sliding dark wood louvered doors. There was a decadent pedestal bath which I did not use but admired daily. Everything about the room sang ole world charm. The view unfortunately was far from! We looked out onto the not so picturesque part of town and yet another building site! I seem doomed to be followed by them!

Early that evening, we took the complimentary walking tour offered by the hotel to get our bearings and enjoy a walk. It was by far one of the best things we decided to do during our entire trip. There was only the two of us, and Choo. Choo was a descendant of the Baba- Nyonya community; a wonderful community formed from Chinese merchants marrying local ladies.  Culture, language and cuisine developed which was unique to the Straits area encompassing Melaka, Singapore and Penang. She took us on a long walk along the riverside with its colourfully decorated walls. She told us how they had started replanting mangroves, offered her opinions on local politics which was far from flattering, explained historical tales and facts and showed us shop houses which were fronts for the business of cultivating birds’ nests; a delicacy sold for food and cosmetics. She seemed appalled and rightly so that heritage buildings were being exploited for such in effect criminal use. It was clear she had many friends in the town who greeted her warmly and she clearly knew good places to eat which did not cost the earth. We accepted her suggestion to go to a roadside Indian Tandoori place and she left us having arranged with the boss our taxi home. Well, this Tandoori eatery was nothing fancy. Tables set out on the road side with a large oven to cook the naans and a tandoor for the chicken. We ordered the house speciality, tandoori chicken with onion naan...it was by far the best Pakistani food we had ever had. Conversation dropped to mere yummy sounds and rolling eyes! The chicken was moist as was the naan. It was sheer pleasurable eating. Something worth writing about!

Christmas Eve, we decided to go to the 10.30pm mass in English at the oldest church in Malaysia, St Paul’s. It had seen over 300 years of continuous worship. It was a mere five mins walk from the hotel and we decided to go after dinner at the hotel.

As expected, the dinner was wonderful. All the courses perfectly portioned and the service impeccable. There was, however, a moment of great hilarity when husband mentioned had I seen our waiter’s name badge. I had not and said so. He said it was an interesting name and had I seen it my reaction would have been interesting. I was intrigued and asked if it was an English name. He replied, ‘it’s an adjective’. A game ensued whilst I tried to guess...’starts with H...five letters...second letter A’. The boy soon returned and when he turned to face me, I took a quick glance. At once, I spluttered out laughing and had to shield my face to stifle the sound. His name label said, ‘Hairy’ and he looked far from! He was alarmed at my reaction and husband soon started chuckling. It took us nearly five mins to compose ourselves. We assured him nothing was wrong and he was doing a good job. Poor lad. Maybe his name was Hari...but Ben must have been possessed by a moment of mischief to have authorised that spelling!

After dinner, we made our way to the church. It was fairly empty when we arrived at 10.15pm. I knew from experience Christmas Eve services are well attended and found it strange that hardly anyone was there. Well, the 10.30pm must have indicated, ‘all can start arriving’ and arrive they did. It took nearly an hour for the service to start by which time and church was packed. All shades of humanity, of all ages and all fashions! Some of the Chinese girls looked like they were about to go clubbing! I am no prude, but Christmas mass I felt called for more modest dress!

As for the mass itself, it was one of the most joyous and memorable masses I have had the privilege to attend. It started with the youth group doing carols for about half an hour. Each was introduced by a well spoken and articulate Chinese boy who gave thanks in one form or another. He had written these little intros himself and they had wit and depth. He was no student of mine, but I felt proud of him and told him so after the mass. He accepted my compliment warmly and graciously. The priest was clearly Tamil and pitched the sermon with great humour. It was amazing to hear English being spoken with inflections influenced by languages spoken at home. This was a Malaccan mass indeed. Rich in every way, inclusive, varied and perfectly executed.

We spent four days in Melaka and I became completely absorbed by the history and architecture of the place.  I tried to imagine those early days of the 14 century Ming Dynasty when the great Chinese Admiral and Ambassador Cheng Ho sailed to these shores with his magnificent Armada of ships to set up trading agreements with the area. He commanded fleets of up to 30,000 men on voyages which would last many years. These expeditions were planned meticulously and he made 7 such recorded voyages in total setting up links as far as the East coast of Africa.  His own story was fascinating: he was a Muslim Chinese from the West of China, kidnapped at 10 years old and castrated. He was taken to court where he eventually became a soldier and a general and a eunuch Mandarin. He took Islamic scholars on his voyages and brought great esteem and wealth to China as a trading nation. However, with change in Emperor came changes in policy and once his voyages stopped, the Portuguese then Dutch, then the British commanded the seas in Far East Asia. Melaka has a fantastic new museum dedicated to him and rightly so. More should be known of this extraordinary character. He is prime subject for a film on the scale of Ghandi. Just imagine the special effects for his treasure ships which were palaces on the seas. No armada like his was seen for another 500 years until possibly the D Day landings in Europe.

The Straits architecture was also completely beguiling for me. The shop houses with colourful louvered shutters and ornately decorated stucco caught my eye constantly. Many buildings were in a state of disrepair but with it being a UNESCO site, I hoped many would be saved. The riverside, although maybe not the most spectacular or fragrant smelling in the world did remind me of the canals in Amsterdam with their curvy bridges.

Melaka and indeed Malaysia has a pluralism of living which I understand completely having grown up with it in my childhood. On one narrow street, there was a Chinese Temple, a mosque and not far a church. All these ethic groups co-exist, trade together, eat together and live together fairly harmoniously. It can be done and in the Straits, it’s been done for centuries. It was the taste of that which I most enjoyed.

Our final destination was Penang, another great Straits port. We decided to hire the southern Indian driver who had picked us up from the fabulous Tandoori. Mohan was his name.  He was a small dark wiry man with a kind of well refined pidgin English which made everything he said and the manner in which he said it, entertaining. Throughout the drive to the airport at KL, he was on his mobile instructing family members on directions in a cocktail of languages laced with arm gestures. He also mentioned how Singaporeans loved coming to Melaka and owned homes along the Malaysian coast as it was cheaper than Singapore itself. They also came just across the border to eat durian fruits which are banned in Singapore for their potent smell. I have never found the smell of durians unpleasant and was surprised this was the case. But then Singapore is a rather splendid and singular country.

Penang and more specifically Georgetown was where we had decided to base ourselves. Our hotel was billed as a ‘boutique’ hotel and indeed it had character and charm even if they put us in a twin room first! However, they were very gracious and they moved us on request into a gorgeous room with a balcony. However, as seems often the case with boutique hotels, there was barely any storage. So, I got the small wardrobe and husband once again lived out of the suitcase.  The hotel was very well located to explore this infinitely fascinating ole port city founded by Sir Francis Light in the early 19^th century. Once again there was a dizzying array of shop houses, many of which for me now possessed a derelict chic I could not stop photographing. We were also lucky enough to have our dear friend Su Ann there so was born and brought up in Penang. As it turned out, she was not that familiar with Georgetown as it was locally a place to drop in and eat or take tourist friends!

If Penang is known for nothing else, it is indeed known for its plethora of food outlets. There are food trail maps to be followed where you can eat 7 meals a day and be directed to a certain stall for a specific item. Every street had more eateries than could be mentioned, a mix of Chinese, Indian and Malay fare. This was street food like I had never seen. Unfortunately for me, I suffered a bad attack of stomach flu and missed out on a whole day of eating! Fortunately, I recovered in time to enjoy an evening out with diminutive Su Ann and her wonderful sanguine bon viveur friend Ken who took us to this packed sea food restaurant by the shore. As husband said, it was by far the best and freshest Chinese food we had ever tasted. Fish steamed in ginger and light soy, friend prawns and squids and the most delicious wilted spinach with softened sweet garlic. It was heaven. We then got taken for a walk to this amazingly plush coastal complex where clearly the filthy rich of the Far East left their yachts. The air felt fresh there and the humidity of Georgetown dropped. However, for dessert, we got driven back to Georgetown where Ken took us to two stalls known for their tofu with sweet syrup and then another stall where in his opinion, one of the best peanut soups was served. I devoured the sweet tofu standing up but by the peanut soup, which was strangely comforting and delicious, my stomach had had enough! It would take me many years of training to eat those 7 meals a day!

After 12 nights total on this peninsula of Malaysia, we made our way to the airport, along what looked like sections of Hong Kong. There was so much of this island we had not experienced at all. We would need to return for certain.

 On the drive, I thought of the gravestones we’d seen in the Protestant cemetery of young wives and children not surviving their time here. How sad and tragic for them to come half way round the world from comfortable homes in England to die in the tropical heat and never experience the rich tapestry of this part of the world. For indeed, all that life offers on these shores of great trading history, where great cultures exchanged goods, foods and thought, is as rich and colourful and alluring as the most delicately crafted kebaya of a Nyonya of yesteryear. My first taste of Malaysia was over but I was sure I would return for a bold second helping. ‘Please Sir, I want some more....’