August in Malaysia
Petronas towers in Kuala Lumpur
I always forget how long it takes to get to SE Asia from the NW US. It’s not like a “quick” 9-hour flight to Tokyo or Amsterdam. It’s 9 or 10 hours to your hub city (in this case, Seoul), then the layover there, then another 6 hours to Singapore, or Bangkok, or wherever. Luckily I flew a Boeing 777 on the flight to Seoul so I was able to plug my computer in and catch up on some last-minute number crunching for our budget meeting. And, of course watch a couple movies. When I finally got to Singapore it was past midnight, and I’d been up already for over 24 hours. Problem was, I still had a 6-hour layover until my 1-hour flight to Kuala Lumpur. I figured since I was coming all the way over here, the least I could do is pay our Malaysian distributor a visit, even though there’s not a huge market there. To my luck, once again, Singapore has one of the most awesome airports on the planet. In addition to the free wireless internet, X-box game playing stations, HD TV theaters, indoor gardens, and free massage chairs, they also have short-stay transit hotel rooms where you can crash for a few hours. So for 30 bucks I got my own quiet, dark room with a clean bed and TV (like I was even going to watch it). I got a nice enough nap that I was relatively refreshed when I woke at 5:30am to get ready for my next flight.
When I got to K.L., Joseph, who works for our distributor, was kind enough to pick me up. As we drove into town I was immediately reminded yet again of the fact that in my experience, with the exception of Japan and Korea, people in Asia do not know how to use an accelerator pedal. This has borne itself out year after year as I’ve come to Asia. China, Taiwan, Malaysia, Thailand, you name it. Doesn’t matter the driver, they all do it. The idea of steady acceleration and maintaining speed is completely foreign to them. You remember back when you were 15 and in driver’s ed, and the instructor took you on the highway for the first time? And how hard it was to keep your foot steady on the pedal to maintain 55 mph? Well that’s how they drive here. So highway speed is constantly pulsing on the pedal– gas…off…gas…off..etc. as my head and upper body is being rocked forward and backward, and I’m wondering if my neck muscles will be sore tomorrow if this turns out to be a long drive.
We had a quick breakfast at McDonald’s, then he dropped me off to my hotel. After settling it, I found some lunch at the local mall food court nearby, then headed back to the hotel, where I promptly crashed yet again for a few hours.
For dinner that night, we went to a Malaysian cultural center, which had a large open restaurant scattered with round tables and a stage at one side. Around the perimeter of the room there were buffet trays of food, so I could try different types of Malaysian food. After dinner, the lights dim and then they have a dancing show, showcasing the cultural dances of the 3 different races that live in Malaysia: The Malays, Chinese, and Indians.
Quick history lesson:
Malaysia was colonized by the British in the mid 19th century as they found its climate favorable to growing rubber plantations, and more importantly, the port at Singapore (at the south end of Malaysia) had become the central location for all trade throughout Asia, since it was a free trade zone. So the British based their headquarters at Singapore and brought in labor from India, their other colony. The Chinese were encouraged to immigrate as well and worked as laborers and as business owners and tradesmen. As a result, since the 1800’s there have always been Malays, Chinese, and Indians all living together throughout Malaysia and Singapore. The British encouraged this class structure, designating administrative and government jobs to the Malays, business to the Chinese, and labor to the Indians. After the British left in the late 50’s, The Malays continued this racial structuring, and in fact immediately began to enact laws to crystallize this, ensuring that only the ethnic Malays would have the positions of power and government, and guaranteed jobs and education to all ethnic Malays (but not the Chinese or Indians). As you can imagine, this institutionalized racism chafed (and still chafes) the Chinese and Indian population, and indeed this resulted in Singapore seceding from Malaysia and creating a secular state based on free trade, which has proved to be one of the wisest decisions they made as a nation. Malaysian politics right now are at a crossroads, due to this policy, and as a result there has been a groundswell of opposition to the ruling party from these disenfranchised races.
Back to the dancing dinner: Toward the end of the dancing they rounded up people to come on stage and take turns dancing with them. Of course Joseph volunteered me as well so I was one of the forty-odd people up on the stage, getting my Malay dance grooves on. The last part was hopping between two bamboo poles, laid parallel on the ground and moved together and apart by two of the dancers. I remember doing this in 4th grade P.E., so I clearly had the technical advantage over the other noobies.
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On Friday I spent the day working, I visited a researcher who is studying the soil and plant moisture in durian orchards. Durian is known throughout SE Asia as the “king of all fruits.” The queen, by the way, is the mangosteen, which I think gets the short end of the stick in this ranking. More on the durian below, but needless to say, from my business standpoint, it is obviously good to make some inroads into this research, if possible.
Later that day I gave a short presentation to a group of scientists at another university. It was on a Friday, and it was supposed to be at 11:30. However some people forgot the email, and others were just working on “Malaysian time”, so things didn’t get underway until noon. I noticed that after the first 5 minutes of my presentation, all the men had left the room. I figured I was either too boring, or not what they had anticipated, but oh well. After I finished, somebody remarked that it was the beginning of the Muslim Sabbath, and the men were being called to prayer at the local mosque. Attendance is not optional. It ended up working out just fine, we had some good chats with the female researchers there, and they were very excited at the prospect of using our sensors to help detect landslides and failing slopes, which is a notorious problem in Malaysia during the tropical downpours that frequent the area.
Saturday I spent with Mr. Yong. He’s one of the co-founders of his company, and in his late 40s. He took me for a day-trip to the Genting Highlands, which are on the mountaintops above Kuala Lumpur, and gratefully much cooler as well. On the way up, we stopped at a village for lunch. He wanted to show me a traditional small-town Chinese village in Malaysia. The older houses were made completely of wood planks, with corrugated tin roofs. There were some newer buildings (still, 50 years old) nearby, they were compounds of concrete buildings built in rows. Apparently during the 1950’s the Chinese government was actively trying to promote a Communist revolution in Malaysia like they were doing in Cambodia, Korea, and Vietnam. At that time Malaysia was still a British commonwealth, so the Brits decided to “divide and conquer” the Chinese population in order to nip the red menace in the bud. So they rounded up the Malaysian Chinese into villages and surrounded each one with barbed wire and armed guards. Anyone going in or out had to be thoroughly searched beforehand, to eliminate the possibility of the Malaysian Chinese providing the Communists with supplies. As it turned out, it was effective and the Communists never made headway into Malaysia.
After lunch, we purchased some local fruits, which I always enjoy here. Fresh mangosteens, rambutan, and lychee, things you can’t find in the US. Then Mr. Yong asked if I would try some durian. The durian comes ripe in August of each year, and people can’t get enough of it. The most puzzling thing about this fruit is that it is also the most nasty, pungent-smelling fruit you will ever find (and not in a good way). It smells basically like rotting garbage. Really. But it’s like wine-tasting to these people. They know the different varieties, and they go to expensive gala durian-festivals, where they sample the different types and the ones grown in different regions, to taste the nuances. In the past I’d always refused. I mean, you literally can smell the stuff from 10 yards away. But I guess I was feeling adventurous. It’s a fruit, after all, and it’s in season. It can’t be bad for you, per se, right? So he bought one and cut it open. I tried 2 bites before I had to give up. It actually wasn’t as bad as I thought, but still was not what I’d call “delicious”or even “tolerable”. It was definitely sweet, and had the firm, yet soft consistency of cheesecake. But it has a very strong and complex flavor, which tastes like an amplification of the garbage smell. It was very rich as well, and is one of those flavors that stays in your mouth for awhile. Let’s just say a little bit goes a long way. Oh well, at least I can say I tried it, which is more than I can say for Andrew Zimmern. Ha! Take that, Mr. Bizarre Foods! I see your braised sea cucumber and raise you…one durian!
Durian Fruit
We got toward the top of the mountain and came to the Chin Swee Temple pagoda and shrine that was built about 30 years ago by a rich Chinese Malaysian who built the first gambling resort complex at Genting. He built a fairly large shrine complex, mainly out of the feeling that he needed to make some cosmic restitution for all the sinfulness he was propagating with his new casino. So the shrine complex has statues of Chinese fairy-tale characters and a very entertaining scenic re-enactment (through statues, like at
Chinese Hell!
Disneyland) of the 10 levels of Chinese hell, and who goes to what levels, and what happens to you at each one. There were displays of decapitated heads being stirred in blood stews by demons, people being impaled and tortured in all ways imaginable. It made me wonder if Dante and the medieval Christian ideas of hell borrowed heavily from the Chinese mythology.
In addition to these displays, there were also two rather imposing enormous granite statues; one of a sitting Buddha, and the other of the Goddess of Mercy. His mother worshipped the goddess and raised her children to do the same, and as part of this they were not allowed to eat beef. He didn’t even try it until he left for college! As a result he still mainly only eats fish, and rarely other kinds of meat. I suppose that’s a good thing. He explain why the Chinese notoriously eat such strange meats (snake, frog, etc.). He says the reasoning is that the devout don’t want to kill the cows or oxen, because they’re your friends and partners. They help you plow and till your field. Why would you kill your friend for food? This also reflects some of their belief in reincarnation, and that the higher-order animals are “better” than the lower ones. Therefore, the nasty snakes and creepy crawlies deserve to be killed and eaten, since they bite you and slither around.
At the top of the hill is an enormous hotel and resort complex, with theme park rides, shopping arcades, and casinos galore. This is the only place where gambling is allowed in this Muslim country, and in fact the ethnic Malays are not allowed to enter the casinos. It’s also sort of the “Las Vegas” of SE Asia, so it draws in tourists from China and the middle east as well. On the positive side, Genting brings in an enormous amount of tax revenue for the state, so the Malays are not too put off by it being there.
We finished off the day by eating at the “Passage through India” restaurant (I guess not to be confused with A Passage “to” India… nobody wants to get sued) in downtown K.L. Of course it was authentic, and it was wonderful. They don’t serve you the food on a plate, they give you a fresh banana leaf instead. You have to give the Indians credit for the most superb use of herbs and spices to flavor foods with. I could eat it all day, which I practically did and my stomach was hurtin’ as I left the premises.
After dinner, Mr. Y suggested we have a massage to wind down the day, which is very common in most Asian countries. He says, “we can have a left-wing massage, or right-wing massage….you know what I mean? In other words, left-wing means it’s not really a massage, they do anything you want. In-between left and right, you have places that give a massage, but other services are negotiable, or on the right wing it is just a straight massage, no hanky-panky!” I told him that according to his definitions, I was most assuredly only interested in the “right-wing” massage. So we went to a reputable place that he frequents on Bukit Bintang street, which is ironic, since that is the main “night-life” road in K.L. where I’m sure you can find as much “hanky panky” as you’d like without looking too hard. We had a very relaxing massage (fully clothed, thank you very much); it lasted a couple hours, until about midnight. I was definitely ready for bed and to catch my plane in the morning, back to Singapore to get ready for a week of work.
