Malacca Old and New

On Thursday, Sep 9th, we leave Kuala Lumpur for Malacca hoping our luck will change. It is a very busy time in the Malaysia. The Hari Raya holiday signifies the end of Ramadan and the new year. It is a four day weekend. We do not have a hotel and get a bad tip from an Italian guy about a good hotel which took us out of the town center. We check several places, but they are expensive or full or both. Prices are more than doubled because of the holiday weekend. We split up. By chance Mika runs into a Swiss couple we met a few weeks ago on the opposite end of Malaysia. They tell Mika about a cheap guesthouse by the river where we get a room for four nights.

It is customary at the end of Ramadan to have an open house and offer food to strangers. Around midnight of our first night our hotel owner's family came with some traditional food for the guests.  

Malacca has a very long, rich history. It was founded in the late 14th century by a wayward Sumatran prince. It flourished as a trading center attracting Chinese merchants. Then came the Europeans. First the Portuguese in 1511, then the Dutch in 1641 and finally ceded to the British - each leaving their own imprint on the town before Malaysian independence. Two years ago it was named a UNESCO world heritage site.

Malaysia's fourth oldest mosque. Notice the Chinese pagoda influence of the minaret.

Malaysia's oldest Chinese temple in continual use.

 Apart from the old mosques and temples the history of the old buildings is pretty much... "The Portuguese or Dutch built      . It was then used by the Dutch or British as      . Now Malacca uses it for     .


Last remaining piece of a Portuguese fort almost completely dismantled by the British.

Church built by Portuguese, then a tomb with very large headstones for fancy Dutch people. Now a tourist attraction. So much for R.I.P.

Dutch Square

In case a visitor to Malacca feels that the buffet of historical buildings is not enough, the city has provided a dessert tray of reconstructions:


A reconstruction of a Portuguese ship



A reconstructed palace




with a replica princess' tomb



A replica 16th Century waterwheel

Here I am desecrating a reconstructed cart pulled by replica buffaloes

Jonker Walk

With so much history and it's proximity to the capital, Malacca is a big tourist destination. There are many attractions, museums, riverboat rides, markets and restaurants all geared towards visitors. Jonker Walk is a weekend market pedestrian street. On Friday night it is teeming with people browsing nick knacks and what nots. On one end of the street is a massive BYO CD karaoke stage. At the other end of Jonker Walk for one performance a night is Master Ho, a 55 year old Kung-fu expert and The Guinness Book world record holder for piercing four coconuts in just over 30 seconds with only his index finger. For this show he will break three coconuts with his finger. Master Ho is also a medicine salesman which I assume is why he does this performance. Most of the sales pitch is in Chinese (Malaysian?), but we learn his product is a remedy for arthritis, aches and index fingers that are jabbed through coconuts. We arrive right before the show begins and have a front seat on the curb. I am selected as his first assistant where he has me choose three paper playing cards and then makes jokes -mostly not in English- about threatening to throw one at me like a ninja star and dislodge my left eyeball. In the end with my eyes still intact he tosses the playing cards four stories in the air.  

Me and Master Ho

He then gives his spiel and actually sells a lot of bottles of his elixir. Master Ho then prepares for his signature coconut trick. One of three coconuts which he will break through tonight. With much concentration and focused force he breaks through the coconut as he has probably done hundreds of times, but it really looks like he hurt his finger. It is completely swollen. He is furiously rubbing his snake oil on it. Master Ho does one more round of successful selling and jokes, breaks a second coconut with his elbow (not finger) and then calls it quits without touching the third coconut. I think that he really is in pain and quit the show early. Mika thinks that he made a good haul selling and does not want to waste a perfectly good coconut.

My video below of Master Ho in action:



An obnoxiously large outdoor karaoke stage

To add to the atmosphere and the traffic are the colorful trishaw riders. They will give tourists rides around town for 40 RM ( US $13.33) an hour or you can use them as taxis. Many trishaws are decorated with colorful plastic flowers and lights. Some also are playing music which I am not sure adds or detracts from a ride around town. The music selection ranges from Malay rock songs and Indian pop to Euro Techno and American Hip Hop. Come to think of it, Ludacris probably does not add anything to the atmosphere.

Trishaw by day

and by night

Hundreds of years ago Chinese merchants in Malacca married local Malay women. The blend created a unique Baba Nyonya community. Malacca of today has many restaurants selling Nyonya food, but it is very hard for us to pin down which is good and which are standard tourist fare. The food is spiceyand uses a lot of coconut milk.





Nyonya Laksa



For some unexplicable reason tourists wait in line all weekend to eat rice balls with chicken

Malaysia Malaise

In Hat Yai, Thailand I saw the bullfight, so we finally make a plan. Since our ultimate goal now is to get to Indonesia with a 60 day visa to finish our South East Asia trip (you only get 30 days at the airport). Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia should be the best location to sort everything out. There is a night train from South Thailand to KL. Unfortunatly no beds are available, so we take a seat for the 14 hr trip. Mika says it will be like sitting on an airplane.

A 2hr trip gets us to the Malaysian border. We pass customs and need to wait an hour for the 6:00 PM train. We then get a message that there is a two hour delay. Two hours later we are told that there are problems and the train will be ready at 1:00 AM. The restaurants at the station are closed. Mika goes to see about upgrading to a bed. The station manager who sits comfortably smoking in his air-conditioned office under the no smoking sign wants to charge a much larger fee than required to upgrade to a bed. We are not carrying any Malaysian Ringgit anyway. By now the station restaurants are closed. We could demand a refund but are stuck in a border town. Everyone is left to sit here without food or water (just what we have with us) or any updated information from the station manager or his incompetent staff. I guess this is what happens when the government run train line has a monopoly.

Train delay refugees

Finally at 2:00 AM - eight hours late - we board the train. Figuring that many people have cancelled their trip. Mika asks the train guy for a bed. He says he'll check. I fall asleep before he comes back. Like in an airplane sleep is of course terrible. And like everywhere in South East Asia the air-conditioning is on full blast. Around 8:00 AM and five hours of much interrupted sleep I give up and just stay awake.

Mika's self-mummification  

We get to Kuala Lumpur tired, unwashed and seven hours later than originally planned. We are still without Malaysian money and need to wait 40 minutes for someone to fix the one working ATM that will accept my card. We get to our Chinatown hotel and take much needed showers and naps. We drag ourselves out of bed and wander around Chinatown like zombies. Today is a wash and no chance of getting anything done. It is also Mika's birthday. Luckily she decided a while back to forgo celebration in KL and will have a "birthday week" at a yet to be determined beach location in Indonesia.

Selecting birthday cake at our favorite Malaysian chain

That night, still jet lagged from our train journey and siesta, we go to bed very late and so get a late start the next morning. We decide to take the monorail two stations to get close to the Indonesian Embassy. After the first stop Mika realizes that her bag is open and wallet is missing. She immediately suspects some fishy guy who was standing too close to her a few seconds ago and is now long gone. The good news is that Mika never carries credit cards or much cash. She loses 30 Malaysian Ringgit (US $10), passport size photos and a photocopy of her passport. Apart from feeling violated and thinking about how many meals in Thailand we can buy with the stolen 30 RM, we are also concerned about the copy of Mika's passport which right now must be in the hands of the Chinese Mafia.

We go to a police station and the officer informs us that we have to go to the tourist police office to report the theft. We eventually make our way to the tourist police station which is housed in the complex with the official Malaysian Tourism office. Mika makes the report, and they say that they have never heard of anyone doing anything with just a copy of somebody's passport. Sitting next to Mika is an Arab man who lost a load of cash and his passport to a pickpocket. Mika also calls the Japanese Embassy in Kuala Lumpur, and they do not worry about a stolen photocopy of a passport either. They obviously fear the resourcefulness of the Chinese Mafia far less than we do. Running around all day to sort out the snatched wallet, the Indonesian Embassy is closed by the time I get there. Mika is too tired to go to the airline office. This is all the rail company's fault.

On the Monorail

and on the street

We wake up late again the next morning (Wed, Sep 8) and call today a do over. The malaise of the first two days in Malaysia never happened. We finally make it to the Indonesia Embassy and get some information about obtaining a 60 day visa. No one at the window can tell us for sure if we will be able to obtain one or not. Apparently our traveling fate is to be decided by the unseen boss who may or may not grant us our desired 60 days. We also find out that they are going on holiday tomorrow and will not open again until Sep 14 for the celebration of Hari Raya - the end of Ramadan and new year. Our next errand is to buy our airline tickets. We get off the train to a monsoon and wait a half hour in the station just to cross the street. Tickets are a little more we want, but do manage to buy our passage to Indonesia for Sep 17.

During the storm

and after the storm

Since we cannot do anything about our visa until after the holiday we make the move to Malacca two hours south of Kuala Lumpur. This is a national holiday and many people are moving around the country. We look forward to a new city and leaving this bad spell behind us.

Waiting for the bus to Malacca

Make a Crawl for the (Thai) Border

We arrive to Kota Bharu on Friday. We are here to get our visa for Thailand. But Friday and Saturday is the weekend in Malaysia so we will have to wait until Sunday to go to the Thai consulate and probably will not get our visa until Monday and leave on Tuesday. Thailand is giving free 60 day visas while you get only a 15 day visa at the border. Kota Bharu is mostly a transit town for people going to or leaving the Perhentian Islands. Hardly anyone stays here for very long.

Kota Bharu is the capital of Kelantan, a declared Muslim province. Many business signs have Arabic writing. There is no movie theatre. I was told there used to be one, but the higher powers feared a dark cinema would lead to too much hanky panky by unmarried couples. So after a brief, unsuccessful attempt at movies with the lights on, it was closed. It is also Ramadan so most restaurants (except Chinese) are closed during the day.

Our typical breakfast

Even though today is Friday the 13th we luckily find a nice little backpackers’ guesthouse quickly with very little hassle. The woman working evenings, LC, is full of great information about Kota Bharu and Malaysia including Kelantan royal family gossip. There is a particularly sordid affair about a prince who married a 16 yr. old Indonesian supermodel who then fled from him in Singapore. For more disturbing details on Malaysian aristocracy click here. She also recommends we try Nasi Kerabu, a blue rice dish found only in this region.

Dinner = Blue rice with herbs, fish, rice crackers and pickled garlic. RM 3.5 (US$1.10) in the night market

One big attraction in Kota Bharu is the Central Market. The tourist literature claims that this is “the most photographed market in Malaysia” though I am not sure who is counting camera clicks in markets around the country. It is quite large, but not packed. We enter through the vegetable area, buy some fruit and cut to the fish area. Mika’s stomach is already a bit queasy from our dinner last night at the night market so she bows out quickly from the smell. I am not sure why, but I love walking around markets. So I return early the next morning to see them setting up.

Showing off a catfish

By tradition the vegetable sellers are women. I notice that the chicken sellers are also predominantly women. They have piles of raw chickens and are disassembling them using knives and hands with incredible efficiency. Behind the chickens is coconut. Machines are grinding coconuts non-stop. Coconut is used in cooking in Kelantan much more than other parts of Malaysia due to the proximity to Thailand. Steps from the coconut area are the beef butchers. Only men here. They are busy hacking through beef with deadly sharp knives, while some chop through bone with hand axes. One hanging leg is like a mini butcher shop. There is one after the other. I am not quite sure how a customer chooses from whom to buy.

This woman could take apart a chicken every 30 secs.

Our third day we decide to go to the village Kampong Laut to see the production of Serunding, a meat floss. It is like a shredded jerky. We buy our tickets on the S.S. Please Don’t Sink and wait until it is time to chug the fifteen minutes up river. Once on the other side we are pointed the way and soon pass a building with heat emanating from the windows and door. We are invited in by the ladies working. The room is full of giant woks. The six women are busy stirring shredded chicken with a large wooden two-pronged fork. Like in a sauna, our skin is glistening from perspiration. Stepping outside, the usually balmy Malaysian weather feels fresh. Next door is another small factory where we get to see the whole beef floss making process. The workers are really friendly and do not mind us disrupting their process for a few minutes. They give Mika a small bag of the local delicacy to take home.

Boys from Kampong Laut hanging out with us as we wait for the ferry

On Tuesday we have one last breakfast at our preferred Chinese restaurant and then take the slow bus to the border. The trip is uneventful. Yet crossing an international border by foot naturally feels slightly more dramatic and hectic than the sterility of an airport. Now off to Southern Thailand to see what we can discover.

Forget Paris or Milan. Kota Bharu has all the latest fashions from Istanbul and Nagoya, Japan.

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I Guess It's Chinese for Lunch

During the 40 days of Ramadan Muslims fast between sunrise and sunset. In Malaysia this means having breakfast around 5:00AM and dinner at after 7:00 PM. No food or water in between. When in Kuala Lumpur fancy hotels were advertising dinner buffets. We wondered if we would be participating in de facto fasting. However, we were assured that KL is a very multi-cultured city, there will be plenty of places to eat. Nobody will get angry if we are seen munching during the day.

Ramadan has started a few days ago, and we are now in Kota Bharu, the capital of Kelantan, a declared Muslim province. It is a city of 500,000 people, 95% of whom are Malay Muslims. All Malaysian restaurants and other restaurants displaying the Halal (think "Kosher" in Arabic) certification are closed during the day. Even McDonald's and KFC are not open.

In the window at KFC

This means that we pretty much have one option: Chinese. Kota Bharu has a small Chinese community and just by luck our guesthouse happens to be in the Chinese area. One block away is the Chinese restaurant street. All the places are busy with only Chinese customers. After just three days of breakfast and lunch in the same spots we know many of the hawker stand and restaurant owners. Whether they reciprocate or not, we already feel like a part of the Kota Bharu Chinese community.



Having a late lunch at a Chinese place

Around 5 PM the Malay Muslims start buying their food for dinner that evening. There is a special Ramadan Bazaar from 3 - 7 PM selling all types of food for people to take home. The next night we go to the city's night market. This is not a special market for Ramadan, but what is special now is that everyone has to wait to start eating. We arrive at 6 PM. It is already somewhat busy with numerous hawker stalls selling different appetizers, entrees, side dishes and desserts. Some people get food and go home. Others sit at tables with their food in plastic bags just waiting for the magic hour to arrive. These people look particularly hungry.

I cannot say that I feel particularly guilty eating while others around me are presumably hungry and thirsty by their own choice. Also, I really do not think that anyone would be particularly offended if we are eating or drinking during the day because we are obviously non-Muslims (though maybe a little bit jealous?). But Ramadan has definitely made us more conscious of our eating habits.

For example, at the Ramadan Bazaar it was terribly hot out. Mika naturally wanted to buy a cold drink. Before doing so she asks if it is okay to drink it right then -- something one would normally never ask. The vendor suggests that she hides around the corner to have her beverage.


While at the night market the next evening we have our food and plan to sit at a table to wait with everyone else to break the fast. One man shoos us away only saying, "Muslim, Muslim". With language difficulties on both sides I am not quite sure what is his problem. I do not, however, think xenophobia. My guess is that he was just afraid we would start eating too soon and might offend his customers. Another woman shoos us away saying, "booking, booking" - no big problem there either, all her tables were reserved.

Two days later we do sit at a table in the night market and wait with everyone else until the clock struck 7:26 PM to drink our teas. Food and drinks are already served and people are just waiting. The young women next to us keep checking the time on their cellphones and fiddling with the food. Only 35 more days of Ramadan to go.

Shopping at the Night Market

Is it 7:26 yet?

So my first Ramadan in a Muslim country has really been quite interesting, but we are ready to head to Thailand, a Buddhist and afternoon eating country.

Almost Paradise II - Perhentian Island

The next day we decide to rent a sea kayak. We want to see the northern part of the island which is not yet accessible by foot, only by sea. I have never kayaked in the ocean before, but I figure it must be like canoe. We get our snorkel gear, paddles, life jackets and shove off. Either I am paddling inefficiently or there is a strong current because I tire soon. Being from Ohio, I try to summon my inner- Shawnee Indian. Call me Orange Jacket. I dub my squaw Swims with Sea Turtles.

Sea Kayak

We make it around the top of the island. The coral here is not any better. We do see two really large round fish. I do not know their name. We paddle down to turtle point and the fishing village. Mika jumps out to try to see a turtle while I hold onto a buoy. No luck. I paddle to shore for lunch pulling Mika who is holding onto a rope.

The waves are larger than before. We try to leave the village, but we cannot get the boat into the sea without a lot of water entering the kayak. One fisherman tells us that the waves are too large right now in direction we are headed. We should wait one or two hours for the sea to calm down. After the fist hour taxi boat drivers are pulling up on the beach all saying we need to wait another hour. I want to leave our kayak in the fishing village, walk to our hotel with our gear, then continue on to Coral Bay and tell them we will paddle back in the morning. I am a land animal after all. Walking is an innate characteristic. Mika wants to wait out the waves. Finally, after 90 minutes one man comes out of nowhere to our rescue. He says that only one corner now is bad near the village, and the rest of our way will be smooth paddling. He also explains reading the waves and right after a large wave crashes is when we need to shove off. At his signal and with the help from an old man, we rush the boat into the water and start paddling frantically. I do not even have the chance to thank them except for a quick glance back. Nor the time to teach him how to get his car (a rental I presume) moving again when stuck in snow and ice.

The waves are not huge by any means, but they are big enough. We are rockin' and rollin' without any music. And each passing boat causes more action. Mika worries about being too close to the rocks while I worry about being too far from the shore. Water is coming in the boat. Saying "a lot" would be an exaggeration, but enough is in our kayak that we stop at the first beach before Coral Bay to empty it. We arrive exhausted. I want to kiss the beach. I also change my Native American name from Orange Jacket to Arms Tire Quickly.


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The last day, Thursday Aug 11, is our final day in tropical paradise. I am worn out. Red from the sun and sore from the kayak. I spend most of the afternoon in the shade of our porch writing this blog. Mika snorkels right off of our beach and has a good outing. She spots a stingray, Napoleon fish, baby sharks and an octopus. In the evening I head to he village to get some dinner. Ramadan has started and our favorite lady with rice and fish is not open. So our dinner this evening basically consists of traditional snacks - dates, coconut-based sweets and a salty crepe.

Octopus

Stingray

At night we borrow a guidebook to figure out where we are going tomorrow. For the long-term travelers (not just us) this discussion is as common as one discussing dinner plans at home. Instead of "Honey, what do you feel like for dinner? Thai or Vietnamese?", we may say, "Honey, where do you feel like going? Thailand, Vietnam or Southern Malaysia?" Backpackers here talk about going to Singapore as nonchalantly as they would going to see a movie. We choose Thailand and may return to southern and western Malaysia on our way back to Indonesia.

The next morning our boat taxi picks us up right on the beach to take us mainland.

The International Rambler Rant:

In Bali many people say, "it was so different 20 years ago". In Perhentian Kecil people say, "it was so different here 10 years ago".

The local people here are very lucky. Mother Nature has given them a very small, beautiful island with white sand beaches, dense jungle, coral gardens and diverse marine life. A place that people will spend a lot of money to come visit and to see these things. But to me, it really feels like Perhentian Island is struggling greatly to develop properly.

This year they built brand new brick paved trails through the jungle. They really are great. It is so easy to access distant beaches and the village. But the paths are littered. Besides the usual plastic bottles and other inorganic debris, there is scrap metal and paint cans left from the project. The trails also pass unfinished and abandoned hotel projects. Somebody also took the time and energy to put two large windmills high up on a hill on the northern end of the island. Renewable energy here (everywhere really)is a brilliant solution, but they don't work. The island's two main beaches have white sand, but they are usually so full of taxi and tour boats that swimming is uncomfortable. Snorkelers skirt along the edges of the beaches. For me, the saddest part is to see the coral dying. Solutions to garbage is actually easy. Educate, pick it up, reduce waste, done. But coral does not come back easily. This is our main reason for coming here to see what is happening under the water. Construction waste, poor sewage lines from hotels (yes, our poop), and fishing, taxi and tour boats are all contributing factors. Of course, being from the US or Europe just seeing any tropical life. Having the opportunity to see a sea turtle in the wild is amazing, so people and money will always come. But what happens if the turtles are gone?

To be honest, I am not sure if I am being too picky or unrealistic. But with a few simple measures Perhntian Kecil really feels like it could be pure paradise - complete with modern facilities. Right now, though, it feels they are heading in the wrong direction. I just hope they get it sorted out before completely killing the Sea Turtle that Lays the Golden Eggs.

Turtle eggs sold in a market 45 min. from Perhentian

Follow this link to read my first post about Perhentian Islands