Malaysia doesn't cut a big profile in the west. My visiting sister-in-law confessed she didn't know anything about the country when the three of us left Bali and flew to its capital, Kuala Lumpur (KL).
I expect she's not alone.
******
Dan and I have been to
Malaysia before so we have a sense of the place and were delighted to return.
It's easy to get around since there's a kind of English that's widely spoken. You just need some imagination.
For instance, we met a kindly old man on the way to the
Kuala Lumpur botanical garden last week. He offered to show us a
shaka. I may not be the linguist that Dan is, but I have an underappreciated (by my spouse) knack for mispronunciation. I quickly guessed that meant
short cut.
Travelers are drawn here by one or more of its four key attractions: the modern city of KL itself, the resort island of Langkawi, the tea plantations of the Cameron Highlands, and its portion of the island of Borneo (Borneo is shared by three nations: Indonesia with the lion's share, the tiny Muslim kingdom of Brunei, and Malaysia has the rest.) We're spending two weeks on what's referred to as peninsular
Malaysia, the part which abuts
Thailand.
The International Monetary Fund bundles
Malaysia in "newly industrialized Asian economies" and this group's forecasted growth is more than twice that of
Canada for 2012. A key part of
Malaysia's economy is the export of palm oil. A visitor descending from 35,000 feet can't miss the view of palm tree plantations as far as the eye can see in all directions. In 2008,
Malaysia's plantations occupied 17,000 square miles of land (a little less than the
province of
Nova Scotia) and it's second only to
Indonesia in the world for production. Derivatives of palm oil touch our lives daily. It's in many of our soaps, cosmetics, home cleaners, processed foods, and biodiesel fuels, among many other things. I probably have half a dozen palm-oil products in my suitcase.
A visitor to Kuala Lumpu can see the profitability of palm oil in the well maintained roads, numbers of fuel-efficient Japanese cars, frenzied building boom of architecturally exciting sky-scrapers, and of course the Petronas Twin Towers, the world's tallest free-standing twin towers.
We're getting a sense here that Malaysians, besides being very friendly, are free enough in this society to chat up strangers and complain. A taxi driver derides the state-run tourist taxi service for its high fees that "contribute to the wardrobe of the prime minister's wife."
The next day, one of our garden guides criticized the government's lack of action in controlling pollution claiming that the west coast beaches have been ruined.
Moving on from KL now, we are spending a week in
Georgetown, a world heritage site off the coast of northern
Malaysia. An older gentleman starts up conversation with us at a bus stop and after the usual, "where are you from", proceeds to tear a strip off his country.
"Look here. Everything too westernized.
Everyone too crazy for money."
"Where do you think is better?" Dan asks.
"Go to
India. Many, many different peoples. Many, many religions. Many climates. Did you know that the people of
Kashmir have blue eyes? There is nothing here", he waves his hand in the air in a sweeping dismissal of all the rich architectural treasures around us. "Here expensive. You go to
India."
"We just came from
India. We were there for four weeks"
"Ha!" The man is shouting now. "You must live in
India four years to understand it!"
I nod my head. I truly don't get
India.
Of course life is worth two dollars in
India." The man looks thoughtful, seemingly confused.
Dan and I disengage from the well meaning stranger. I've put
India to the back of my mind these days, healed my wounds in the meantime. Though we'll likely return there in March, for now I want to focus on southeast Asia. We turn our sights to the matter at hand, finding the correct bus to the
Tropical Spice Garden.
We're debating about entering the 101 Bus. It's hot outside and there's too many people lining up. A Rapid Transit worker with a red dot on his forehead hears us and approaches.
"Why you not take this bus? Direct to the garden."
"It's too full."
He smiles mischievously. "Too full not good for you, but good for us! More money."
The transit worker smiles making his big white handlebar moustache dance. "You should buy bus pass for one week if you stay here many days. Better for money." He leads us to a booth and after some mental calculations we realize it's indeed an excellent suggestion. Our trips this week all around the island will now cost just pennies.
Maybe the old man was right about Malaysians being fixated with money. But so are we, truth to tell.
Like
Singapore,
Kuala Lumpur's competition, the country gives us a shot of western conveniences and tones down the culture shock. Unlike
Singapore however
Malaysia is primarily Muslim and struggles with how to interpret that reality in a pluralistic society. The Chinese community is sizable at one-third of the population - though responsible for 70% of its market activity - and its values must be respected. Islamic conservative elements are definitely here but when I'm with my husband the city feels like anywhere else in the west. But our sister-in-law experienced the other side when she went off by herself to the museum one day in
Kuala Lumpur.
First, the taxi driver warned her that she should not be travelling alone, advice which he offered her by way of being helpful.
Helena felt the truth of those words at lunch when she was clearly ignored by the waiter and felt the staff's scorn like heartburn.
Still,
Malaysia appears to struggle with itself. Contradictions abound. Alcohol consumption is not only frowned upon, though tolerated in non-Muslim communities, there's the occasional raid on hotels to charge local Muslims with alcohol offenses.
On the other hand, there are lots of working women riding the ultra-modern monorail to work in the city. Many wear the traditional head scarf, the
tudung, most often the silk is ablaze in brilliant colour, it's rarely black in this sun-drenched land. But many others wear western clothing. This week, the laughter on Facebook and Twitter successfully forced the Ministry of Defence to take down its website. It had published a dress code for its workers, rife with mistranslations. Forbidden dress included: "clothes that poke eye". This is a literal translation of a Malay term that mean 'revealing clothes'.
An interesting inclusion on the forbidden clothing list was "clothes that cover the face."
Indeed,
Malaysia is a curious bird and I hope it continues to keep its balance on this branch of southeast Asia. The way ahead is uncertain. Hazy.
