Malaysia: A First-time Experience
Art Fazakas
Guest writer/adventurer

For my introduction to Malaysia, I chose a one-day bus tour from Singapore. En route to Kukup, a fishing village on the southwest coast, we stopped at a pewter factory and observed the workers before buying beautiful and inexpensive pieces, then a rubber plantation and an orchid farm.  At Kukup, we were allowed to walk through the middle of the village and out onto the rickety planks of its fish farm. Our guide, while somewhat stiff, had seemingly encyclopedic knowledge

The rickety train from Singapore to Kuala Lumpur looked like a relic of the 1950's and sounded like it had never been oiled. I made my way to the dining car, desperately trying to keep my balance but lurching into seats, baggage compartments and doors. There a young Australian man had just learned that there would be no food for the next five stations! Why, I wondered, had they not loaded it in Singapore? Perhaps Moslem practice forbade certain foods common across the border? Or it was too expensive, so Malaysian Railway preferred its own vendors? Like everyone else, I bought a cup of  Milo (a cocoa drink) and spilled most of it on the way back to my seat. As I sat down, a roach walked across the wall. The scenery was monotonous - endless rubber and pineapple plantations. We passed towns with ramshackle buildings, their shingles rotting. I thought of the contrast to Singapore.

There was still no food after the fifth station. Then it appeared, with crew members smiling as if to say, "Isn't our train wonderful?" The chicken was bony, I had to take out my pocketknife to open the dessert and water cup. " The pink pulsing mass resembling Jello (but much tougher) finally succumbed to my knife when a large piece slid off my plate onto the floor. The young Australian couple watching burst into laughter, saying, "Don't break your teeth." I said, "That's it, I'm getting off at the next station and catching a train back to Singapore!" They said, "Don't worry - KL is much better - if you can make it."

My room had air-conditioning with a large bed, private bath and bar, on the 13th floor with a view of Chinatown and the Petronas Towers in the distance, all for the equivalent of US25 a night.

Everywhere in Kuala Lumpur, one sees the sharp contrast between ultramodern glass-and-steel skyscrapers and decripit old wood-frame buildings. Shiny new luxury cars pull up at five-star hotels, while most cars are ancient. Giant cranes dot the skyline. 10-foot-high steel fences hide slums, which of course are visible from upper floors of the luxury hotels. To me, it's a poor country pretending to be rich. "It's been that way for at least 15 years," said a Canadian living in Thailand. Hopefully, Malaysia will not be another Philippines.  Approaching the city by train, you see mile after mile of shacks with chickens, goats and dogs running loose, trash heaps and garbage strewn about. Suddenly you're surrounded by skyscrapers, wondering what happened, and you glide into the ultramodern railway station where women in traditional clothing line up at McDonald’s.

The  people are curious about Westerners, asking "Where are you from? You English? Where are you going next? Are you alone?” Some ask, " Which hotel are you staying?" Innocent question, or ulterior motive? I couldn't help being somewhat suspicious. As I remarked to a group of European women whom I met in Malacca, I visited at least five homes in Australia, with invitations from people I had just met, without feeling any concern for my safety. "Of course," one woman said, "They're Westerners." In Malaysia, my feeling was that people came on too strong. One morning a man interrupted me as I wrote in my journal, asking, "What country are you from?" He introduced his wife, and she invited  me to their table. The woman asked if I had time to talk to her mother, and if I would like to visit their home for lunch. It was tempting, but I decided that while I might miss a wonderful opportunity, I simply did not trust strangers in a poor country. Hopefully, next time I’ll overcome some of my reluctance. 

Only 800 people a day are allowed up on the crosswalk at the Petronas Towers, due to engineering concerns, so you must arrive early in the morning. To me, the towers – now a national symbol - are ugly. I wonder how many Malaysians have visited them - probably a small percentage.  At the cultural center, I could not attend a concert because I was wearing sandals. So I walked to Menera Tower, where the observation deck is open all day (but you need a reservation to enter the restaurant.) The views are great, but it's much  like towers everywhere, with its cafeteria and gift shop.

The Bird Park in KL doesn't match the standard of Singapore's, but it does have many parrots and other birds zooming around under the wire mesh. Walking on a path, I felt a sharp peck on my left foot and was shocked to see a peacock, its feathers fully spread, attacking me! Perhaps its young were nearby. I hastened backward but the angry bird rushed toward my foot again! I took off my pack and held it out, but it jumped onto my pack and attempted to peck my arm! So I walked backward as fast as I could. The peacock finally gave up.

In Malacca a few days later, a white South African friend and I were looking for the Information Center. Someone said, "It's there" pointing to the Police Department. We walked in hesitantly, and two uniformed officers asked, "May we help you?" Yes, we're looking for St. Paul's Church.." "Let me show you on a map." This depot is called Tourist Police, which raised a few questions in my mind: "Do the Tourist Police protect tourists? (and why?) Or do they protect citizens from tourists? Outside, a huge sign reads, "MELAKA TOURIST POLICE - BAMBOO SHOOT CAFÉ.” Such a sign in the U.S. would not remain in place more than 24 hours; a private business using a government endorsement would result in court injunctions and lawsuits. I wonder how the owner of a competing cafe feels about it; maybe he isn’t wealthy enough for his own Tourist Police sign.

On a river tour in Malacca, our guide apologized for the dirty water, saying, "The government has asked people not to throw trash into the river, but unfortunately they continue to do so. I hope you will see improvement if you return after four years." (Why four years?) I thought, "It's not only trash they - and factories - are throwing into the water, my friend. He pointed out mud fish and lizards slinking out of the water, onto broken walls and trees. We saw dilapidated buildings and piles of trash at every turn. The guide told us stories and made jokes, as if these sights were wonderful. Seeing black sludge flowing into the brown water, we were amazed that Malaccan officials would actually run a there without first doing something to clean it up.

If you go to Malacca, I strongly recommend the Museum of Beauty at the People's Museum. It addresses the concept of beauty in tribal cultures around the world, from antiquity to modern times. A plaque reads, "Enduring beauty has a dual meaning: on the one hand, beauty is lasting and permanent. But it also refers to pain and suffering. Paradoxically, beauty is NOT enduring; it fades, and concepts change. This exhibit covers preshistoric times to the present, in nearly every country on Earth." In the footbinding display, you learn precisely how to wrap a foot, how to bathe it every other day and rebind it. Women with bound feet were totally  dependent on servants and their husbands. What appeared to be a tiny foot was really the big toe, with the rest of the foot hidden and the arches folded so that the ball of the foot touched the heel. This practice existed in many countries in Southeast Asia.

Other forms of bodily enhancement are exhibited, such as scarification, dental mutilation and tatooing - not merely partial tattooing, but full-body tattooing, which is so dangerous and painful that died from infections. One exhibit focuses on the "giraffe women" of Myanmar (Burma) who, when shown X-rays of their upper bodies, could not believe their eyes. A full set of 12 brass rings weighs up to 80 pounds, and a giraffe woman's shoulders and ribs are pressed down like branches of a pine tree. Rings are also worn on the ankles and wrists. The process begins at age five, with the ceremonial installation of the first ring. Through the girl's teens, rings are gradually added. Punishment for an adulterous woman consists of removal of her neck rings, because she must then hold her head in her hands, or if her husband permits, wear a brace. Giraffe women need special pillows at night. In the adjoining room you can learn about Susuk, the hidden charm needles inserted by bomohs - medicine men. Since this practice is forbidden by Islam as a "mystic art," most wearers deny knowledge of it - but Malaysian dentists have found them in X-rays. The Museum of Beauty, in my view, is not about beauty but subjugation of women around the world. For relief, walk upstairs to the Kite Museum, and let your spirit soar on flights of fancy. Warning: there is no air conditioning in the People's Museum, and no bathrooms - the nearest are located at A&W fast food restaurant across the courtyard.  

In Malacca, a young Swedish woman invited me for a swim at the city pool. She told the attendant, "I only have a bikini. It that OK?" "Yes." He asked if I had a swimsuit. Yes, I did. I changed and entered the pool area, upon which a man approached and said, "Sir, you cannot stay without a bathing suit." I said, "This is a bathing suit." "Sir, you must obey the rules.” My trunks were loose-fitting. I was shocked, and asked where I could get one. One of the guards rented to me a tight-fitting black suit, very worn with holes but clean, for RM2 (about thirty cents, U.S.). Women, who must cover their heads outside at all times, can display their bodies at the public pool, and tiny V-shaped suits are acceptable for men. I also received a swimming lesson when the guard noticed that I was not lifting my left arm. He added, "Most Americans are fit! You need to work out - lift weights!”

At The Equator, Malacca's five-star hotel, a server asked me if WA State is near Chicago or Las Vegas. I've often been surprised by ignorance of American geography. For example, in Australia a woman didn't know where New Jersey is. "Why would you expect an Australian to know where New Jersey is?" she asked. "Before your visit here, did you know where Adelaide is? Brisbane? Did you know that Tasmania belongs to Australia? Nope! I used to think that Kuala Lumpur is south of Singapore! That Malacca is part of Spain, and that Sarawak is in Indonesia (it's on the island of Borneo, shared by three countries.) I had never heard of Sabah, one of Malaysia's most popular resorts.  

Bringing too much luggage cost me time, money and energy. On my next trip, I'll carry less than the contents of one small daypack: a change of clothes and a paperback. You can buy anything in most countries, and for much less than in the U.S. Travel light! It’s important. Malaysia, the poorest of the countries I visited, posed the greatest challenge to my assumptions. I will return, with open eyes and mind.

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