An interesting piece about the merits of travel by Jonah Lehrer. Not only is this guy a great writer, connecting science to humanities and pop culture, but he is a Columbia grad, a Rhodes scholar, the author of two books, a regular contributor to a slew of top media giants, and only 25 years old. Inspiration.
A song I wrote, recorded, and mixed on my own at the end of last summer. Enjoy!
It seems that the temperature of the big pot that holds the worlds economic super powers continues to rise. China’s attitudes and methods for dealing with diplomacy will definitely continue to irk the United States and other countries such as Japan. The question begs, what happens when the boiling pot starts to uncontrollably steam?
Going Long Liberty in China - Thomas Friedman
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/17/opinion/17friedman.html?ref=thomaslfriedman
China To Halt Some Exports to the U.S. - Keith Bradsher
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/20/business/global/20rare.html?hp
I have already written a journalistic entry about my adventure in Malaysia, and despite its length, I do not find it sufficient to explain my experience. What I learned about the culture and the people while traveling through Malaysia is, in my opinion, much more enlightening and important than my day to day itinerary.
When I boarded the plane to Kuala Lumpur, I honestly had no idea what the culture would be like at my destination. In some ways, this actually makes perfect sense. Unlike a country such as China or India, where there is an overwhelming majority of one ethnicity, Malaysia contains three or four ethnic groups, none of which dominate the culture. It is the epitome of the “melting pot” metaphor. Muslim woman wearing traditional head coverings can be seen migrating to the mosques after the echoing call from the minarets. Hindu Indians sell traditional snacks and sweets from street stalls, craft intricate flower garlands for special occasions, and celebrate deepavali at the many Hindu temples. Chinese take pride in KL’s Chinatown, opening restaurants that serve traditional Chinese noodles and selling souvenirs that are not much different from the ones in Hong Kong. Finally, the Malays, a mixture of each and every one of these groups with an added local flair, take pride in Malaysia’s great traditional food and unmatched Petronas Towers. This mixture is accentuated in Penang, where every type of religious center is present in every corner of the city: Mosques, churches, Chinese temples, Hindu temples, Burmese Buddhist temples, and Thai Buddhist worship complexes. This potpourri of cultures, which somehow manages to combine and create an aggregated essence that is Malaysian culture, was by far the most striking thing in this country.
Upon arrival, I was surprised at the amount of Muslims I was immediately greeted with. I had no idea Islam was such a prominent religion, and have since learned that it is in fact the official religion of Malaysia. I found being in a predominately Islamic country extremely interesting, especially since I believe the religion is one of the most misunderstood cultural practice in the United States. I love the amazingly intricate architecture and geometric art that adorns the mosques and other Islamic buildings. Even the Petronas Towers are based off of traditional Islamic architecture. Hearing the calls for prayer from the top of minarets always seemed to immediately put me in the moment, reinforcing my location in the world. Interestingly, one effect of religion here is the popularity of flip flops and slippers, especially Crocs. Praying multiple times a day, whether in a mosque or a temple, requires the removal of shoes, and who wants to deal with laces?
As for crossing the street, any adrenaline junkie can be sufficiently pleased with some blood pumping “human frogger” at any moment in time. It is a sport. People fearlessly cross everywhere, whenever they can. As soon as I found myself being bold, I was immediately humbled by a racing motorcycle or a large bus. To make matters worse, the ubiquitous motos even wander on to the sidewalk, giving unaware pedistrians quite the scare.
The people themselves were friendly and helpful, and thankfully almost everyone in Malaysia is multilingual. I only encountered one man who did not speak English. Many Malays speak three or more languages, usually Bahasa Malay, English, and either Arabic or Hindi depending on their backgrounds.
Finally, Malaysian food is similar to their culture. It is a combination of different cuisines which combine to form one unique result. Many classic dishes are what I would normally consider Southeast Asian, similar to Thai cuisine. Others have more Indian flavors, while Middle Eastern and Chinese influences follow close behind. Whatever the origin, the food was delicious.
In the end, it seems that the defining trait of Malaysia is that is lacks one. There is no such thing as a definitive Malay individual, a cuisine that is distinctly Malaysian (perhaps satay), or a language that is dominant. In fact, as the world returns to its “flattened” state, it would seem that this is the case everywhere. We are all just human beings.
This past weekend, from Friday morning to Tuesday evening, I traveled to Malaysia in attempt to experience…well, to experience something. In truth, I was not really sure what to expect. I booked the plane tickets to Kuala Lumpur less than 24 hours before departure and did not have anything remotely close to an itinerary until about 1am the morning of. I did not have a credit card or a funcional ATM card, and instead very carefully stashed wads of cash throughout my belongings. I very nearly didn’t even go to Malaysia, contemplating the draws of Taipei or Seoul instead. Finally, I was alone. What I’m trying to say is that the trip was just a smidgen spur of the moment, a little risky, and contained a spontaneity that always translates to chaos. With travel, things never go as planned.
Note: This is a long journalistic piece. For thoughts on Malaysia as a country and a culture, see the upcoming piece entitled ” Thoughts - When traveling alone, the thinking never stops.”
The basic itinerary of the trip was as follows: Walk, wait, see, eat, walk, walk, wait.
On Friday afternoon I arrive in Kuala Lumpur in the late afternoon, take a few trains somewhere, and navigate to the surprisingly pleasant BackHome hostel. Almost immediately after arrival, I leave to conquer the city on foot. I eat at a relatively pricey vegetarian Indian restaurant recommended by the host then walk to Menara, otherwise known as KL Tower. It is essentially the Malaysian version of Seattle’s Space Needle, and my twenty minute nighttime stay at the top before closing was not quite worth the 40 Ringgit. No matter, I then walk to the nightlife district, which is overshadowed by one of the most impressive buildings in the entire world: the Petronas Towers.
This brings me to Saturday morning. The plan is to wake up early, rush to the Petronas Towers, and get a ticket to the “Skybridge.” The ticket desk opens at 8:30am, and I have been warned to arrive early, at or before 8:00, to avoid disappointment. I wake up at 7:15, rush to the Petronas Towers, and upon arrival find a chaotic mass of people in a longer-than-Disneyland line. “Alright,” I said “Just going to have to wait this one out.” I have no idea that I will be miserably standing in line for the next two and a half hours, with nothing to do, as the bustling and unseen Kuala Lumpur awaits outside. I finally obtain a ticket at 11:45, and am whisked up 41 floors to the Skybridge. Here I experience fifteen short but sweet minutes of viewing. I have one day to see KL, and I spend two and a half hours waiting for a FIFTEEN minute session! Not cool, but what can I do? Accept it.
After this frustrating extravaganza I take the train back two stops to the Masjid Jamek Station, home base. From here I embark on a ridiculous walking tour of the city. I say ridiculous because to walk the distance and time that I did, by myself, in the hot and humid Malaysian air, is under no circumstances how the “standard” tourist would see the city. I see Masjid Jamek, the Sultan Abdul Samad Building, Dataran Merdeka (the national square where Malaysia gained its independence from Great Britain), the Dayabumi Complex, the National Mosque, the Islamic Arts Museum, the Old KL Railway Station, the Central Market, and finally Petaling Street Chinatown.
At that point, my famished body directs me to a food stall for a classic buffet style Malaysian meal, featuring authentic satay, nasi lemak, and whole grilled fish. Food is renowned and important here, and the most basic yet delicious and representative food comes from the streets.
The next task is to solve the mystery that is the KL bus system. Unmarked, slow, sporadic, and inefficient. When I finally find the correct bus stop, I wait for 45 minutes for the bus to arrive. The journey to Batu Caves takes more than twice as long as it would have taken me on a bicycle. Also, I nearly miss the stop, because it is completely unmarked and if I had not said anything the bus would have continued on without my knowledge. This is all quickly forgotten at the sight of the 141 foot tall Lord Murugan statue, boldly standing to the right of 272 steep steps that lead to a gigantic limestone cave which houses an important Hindu temple. It is like a scene from Lord of the Rings. I’m telling you, for a second I was Frodo climbing the steps of Mordor.
Thanks to none other than the extremely ineffecient bus system, I emerge from the depths of the cave just in time to see this:
That was the thing about this trip. No matter how much everything seemed to go wrong, no matter how many mistakes were made and how much time was wasted, no matter how much my plans really should have utterly collapsed, it ended up working out quite well. Honestly, its beyond me how it even happened.
From Batu, I take a train (wait a second, I didn’t have to take a bus?) back into the city to Bangsar, a district known for good restaurants and bars. Of course, the Bangsar Station is in the middle of nowhere, about a 15 minute walk from the actual district, which I am forced to find on foot. At this point, my leg and feet muscles are absolutely disgusted with the torturous day I have demanded of them. Once in the hotspot of Bangsar, I go directly to the most crowded restaurant in the district, Sri Nirvana Maju, a “banana leaf” Indian establishment. This is a meal to remember. The food is not only delicious, but completely unique and novel to me, as is the entire experience. I eat off of a banana leaf, directing the food from the fingers of my right hang into my mouth, just as the seasoned local Indians do. I order Kopi, not knowing that it is a coffee drink produced from beans that have been digested and excreted by the Civet, a cat-like jungle mammal. Who would of thought I would have randomly chosen the most bizarre drink on the menu? The entire meal costs $4 USD.
In the morning, I wake up early and take a train to the private bus station. Here I purchase a ticket for a 5 hour bus ride to Penang, an island on the northwestern coast of Malaysia, for 35 Ringgit. At this price, it costs less than the 25 minute rides from the airport. In Peru, they have a similar inexpensive luxury private bus system, which leads me to question why the United States is still using Greyhound when third world countries have such amazing private busing.
I arrive in Georgetown, on Pilau Penang in late afternoon, then resourcefully find my way to the Red Inn guesthouse. I quickly settle in, then its go go go once again. I explore the city on foot, although its less chaotic and smaller than KL, making it easier. I see the famous old architecture of Georgetown, which is scattered absolutely everywhere. I wander through Little India, full of Indians celebrating Deepavali and shopping the street markets. Most striking is the immense amount of religious buildings in every corner of the city: old churches, intricate mosques, Hindu temples with distinctive towering goparums, colorful, incense-filled Chinese temples, and large Buddhist worship complexes. There is no prevalent religion here; all religions are prevalent.
On Monday, I take on the rest of Penang. I walk to a few more nearby sites, including the blue mansion of Cheong Fatt Tze, and then deal with the bus system again. I am dropped off at a Buddhist temple which is different from the famous one which I wish to visit. I still walk through, and then find my way by foot to Wat Chayamangkalaram, which features a huge reclining Buddha, among other things. Directly across from this is Dhammikarama Burmese Temple, another extensive and incredible complex.
I find a street food center nearby, and try char koay teow, simply one of the best noodle dishes I have ever had. I also have some famous Penang White Coffee served ingeniously in a plastic bag. From here, its another long bus ride to Kek Lok Si Temple, the largest of them all here in Penang. The intricacy, the colors, the spiritual vibe, and the impressive pagoda all lead to a sense of true amazement. Also, it should be noted that the single most prevalent symbol in this temple is the swastika. After all, it has been a sacred Eastern religious symbol for thousands of years.
After a bowl of pungent laksa, herby seafood soup not made for the faint of heart, I take the longest bus ride yet, to the northwestern corner of the island. I hike through the jungle in Penang National Park as long as light and body let me, sweating to the point of complete saturation.
After a long hike, there is nothing like a clan of monkeys to put things in perspective. This one has a young one as cargo.
After a meal of nasi kandar, I crawl back to the guesthouse. I wake up at 6am, take a bus back to KL, and then fly back to Hong Kong. What a crazy, amazing trip. Let’s do it again sometime Malaysia.
Just finished this (see title) amazing memoir written by Susan Jane Gilman. Relevant, throught-provoking, and truly unbelievable.
A little factoid I learned in the “Afterwards:” As of 2005, the Chinese government still prohibited its citizens from travelling independently. Only tour groups were allowed to journey to approved countries with guides.
This absolutely astounded me. Traveling is a liberty that seems so important, fundamental, and even encouraged in the U.S. My amazement led me to research on the current travel restrictions imposed on Chinese citizens. While Google failed to produce informative answers, surely in part because I was searching in English and not Chinese, I did find that it is still rather difficult for a Chinese citizen to travel wherever he wishes. For example, I read that the majority of citizens who travel to the United States do so on study abroad programs, and many don’t ever return to China. The government still makes it difficult to obtain tourism visas, especially to particular countries, like USA. I will have to speak with some Mainland Chinese students about this when I get a chance. At times I forget, but China is still a full-fledged Communist country.
Appetent. Desperately anxious. Drops of eager saliva glistening on the lips. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
The doors swing open. Heads turn rapidly. The waiter appears, walks in our direction. Intently, gracefully, briskly. He knows.
He stops, directly in front of the table. All eyes on the round bamboo steamer, handmade for this purpose, precisely. In the middle of the table it is placed. The lid lifts. The sacred steam is freed. Nostrils flare. Intense salivation ensues.
I see it. I grasp my chopsticks, purposefully. I look around the table. Ravenous faces. No one sees me. Chopsticks advance. They open. They close around the prize. Carefully, precisely, like a surgeon.
Lifting. The delicate skin stretches. A dangerous moment. Chopsticks, forceps, clenching. Perfectly placed in the porcelain soup spoon. Anticipation.
Moving in. Mouth opens. Teeth break the skin. This is it. This is it.
Slurping, from the small hole. Heavenly liquid. Taste buds tingling, relishing. Eyes roll back. Its not over.
Lifting the spoon. It slides off. The mouth engulfs it. Slowly chewing. Unbelievable satisfaction. Reluctantly swallowing. Its over.
This is life. This is the soup dumpling. This is Xiao Long Bao.
Shek O - South Hong Kong Island or the Mediterranean?
Breathe
The City of Stark Contradictions - An Aston Martin Vantage parked in front of a 7-Eleven and a grungy apartment high rise in Shau Kei Wan.
Chewy Waffle - Delicious classic street food from the avenues of Mong Kok. A nice finish to the divine scrambled egg breakfast at Australian Dairy Company.
The Goldfish Market - An entire street in Prince Edward strangely devoted to aquariums.
The Bird Market - Hanging cages, yellow “jail cells,” and every imaginable chirp.
Some of the less than delighted birds on display.
Sacred Smoke - Incense in front of the important Sik Sik Yuen Wong Tai Sin Temple.
And that was my weekend…
