Taman Negara : Riverboat

I haven't explained the main title of this post series yet. Taman Negara means "national forest" in Malaysian. If you ask the locals about taman negara, they will say, "Which one?" If you ask backpackers, they will say, "The jungle?"

Most of the guidebooks (read: Rough Guide and Lonely Planet) refer to the virgin rainforests of West Malaysia as Taman Negara. This is it.

The tour is organised by two competing companies. They include bus fare from Kuala Lumpur's Chinatown to Jerantut. This is a small Chinese town south of the river junction. At the boat dock, you board small, low, locally-built river boats. My jungle guide would later explain these boats are built from a special tree and its sap is used as waterproof sealant in the joints. Due to strong southern currents, the trip lasts about three hours heading north and two hours south. The seat cushion was so thin my legs were numb by the end!

Side note about the expression "small Chinese town": I thought my guidebooks were being politically incorrect when used it to describe towns. Until I visited them. The landscapes in "small Chinese towns" are dominated by Chinese businesses. In the three that I visited, Chinese signs covered about 75% of the town. In other places, it was 25% or less. Many places have had little migration (in or out) over the last fifty years, so their ethnic make-up has barely changed. Many towns were founded outside mines, as the Chinese were used as laborers. After the British left and the republic was formed, many Chinese stayed and continued their families and businesses. Hence today's term: Chinese town.

About the photograph: It confirms beginner's luck and my strategy of over-photographing! (I usually shoot five to twenty shots, rapid-fire, to be safe about lighting and focus.) I was reviewing my fifteen pictures of the boat docking area to select the best for this entry, when I noticed the sky in this photo. If you have ever watched storm chasing documentaries and wondered where you can find similar cloud formations, they are a regular occurrence in Malaysia. A storm may sweep through and last for thirty minutes or less. The gathering and clearing of clouds before and after the storm is an amazing sight.

Taman Negara : Oil Palm Plantations

When I was researching remote destinations for backpackers in Malaysia, I spent a lot of time searching on Google maps. From the air, most of West Malaysia appears like a checkerboard. Oil palm plantations dominate -- I repeat: dominate -- the landscape. (Click on the link to see a sample on Google maps.)

I tried many times on my bus trip to Taman Negara to capture these vast fields. And, I tried again on my trip to Kuala Sepating (to see the mangroves). Since I was always traveling at high speed on a highway bus, it was difficult to take steady photographs. Additionally, my view was obstructed by thick, tinted windows.

Of all my oil palm plantation pictures, this is my best. The sheer distance of the path between two rows -- nearly to the horizon -- should help you to understand the magnitude of these plantations. Sometimes I would drive for thirty minutes on a highway bus and see (almost) nothing but oil palm plantations. Small villages would appear for a few seconds, but then be swallowed by more endless rows of oil palms.

The palm is beautiful to me. Not having grown up with palm trees in my childhood, I was amazed when I first visited Los Angeles in high school with my father. California has a landscaping addiction to palms. They make good city dwellers, so they are planted everywhere it is warm enough to grow. Even the chilly bay of San Francisco is lined with fattened palms. That first time, I marveled at their symmetric beauty. At the oil palm ages, it grows in height significantly, up to twenty meters. Past a certain producing age, they are cut down, and new palms are planted. You could see this pattern repeated endlessly in the countryside. One hundred or more rows of mature trees were followed by a clearcut area where new trees one or two meters high were planted.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia XVIII

The cover of my Rough Guide to Malaysia has a photograph of a beautiful spotted butterfly feeding from a flowered vine. I tried to duplicate this same shot at the Kuala Lumpur butterfly park, but I was unable. My camera is too simple to capture butterflies moving so quickly. Either I could not focus correctly, or the butterfly was gone too quickly. And I tried many times.

The vine with red flowers in the background grows hanging from a special palm. The flowers have a cup shaped opening with lots of juicy nectar for butterflies and insects.

To understand the scale of this picture, the leaf in the center is as wide as your hand. The butterfly was about six inches across. Amazing that it sat still so long for me to photograph.

One last thing: How do they make a butterfly park? Put up a giant net, remove the predators, and provide lots of butterfly breeding grounds and food (read: nectar). They even spray sugar water on picked flowers floating in water so that butterflies do not go hungry if nectar is low in the flowering plants. They also work to always have at least some plants flowering in the gardens.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia XVII

Forgive me for the endless photographs of colonial buildings, but Kuala Lumpur has done a very nice job of preserving them. It is also one of the few places I have visited that was not destroyed by a war in the last fifty years. The Japanese ruled Malaysia during the Second World War as a colony, but left most buildings standing.

This one is called the Sultan Abdul Samad building. Unfortunately, it is not open to the public, but it is strung with lights that are switched on each evening. It is an amazing view, seeing the lighted arches pierce the nighttime darkness.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia XVI

On the backside of the grounds surrounding this mosque, I found a banana tree. It looks like the pipes of an organ, the way the bananas have arranged themselves.

Living in California in the early 2000s made me think about my food more than any time in my life previously. Never before had I felt so divorced from its production. Living on my own as an adult (and paying bills) for the first time, I finally saw how odd it was to eat bananas 365 days a year. Where do they come from? I thought. (Wikipedia nugget: "Bananas are grown in at least 107 countries.")

We take for granted the humble banana. It's nice to see real stuff growing. That's something I haven't seen a lot of in my mostly urban life.

Driving through the countryside of Malaysia, I occasionally spotted trees with paper bags tied to the ends of the branches. Only later did I learn, reading a Malaysian memoir, this is common practice to preserve mangoes from bats and insects.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia XV

Visiting Malaysia was the first time I had entered a mosque. I have only seen one or two before this trip. I must confess that I know very little about the required customs for prayer. I learned that people must (at least) remove their shoes and wash their feet prior to entering the prayer floor.

Don't mistake this star-shaped pool for a kiddie pool. The devout used simple, plastic ladles to scoop water and wash their feet. Others poured the water over their feet as they climbed the short steps from the path.

Shoes were neatly aligned around the curved stairways.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia XIV

I promised you that beautiful mosques exist in Kuala Lumpur. Here is Jamek Mosque (or Masjid Jamek to the locals). To quote my Rough Guide to Malaysia, "There's an intimacy here that isn't obvious at the modern, much larger national mosque to the south, and the grounds, bordered by palms, are a pleasant place to sit and rest."

So that we don't all get caught in the "Islam is bad" story, remind yourself that Notre Dame in Paris or Westminter Abbey in London can hardly be called intimate. There is a real intimidation factor to these buildings -- like the national mosque pictured earlier.

This mosque is special for a few reasons. It was designed and built by a British architect who previously served in India, so he brought a different type of design to Malaysia. One thing difficult to capture in photographs (given the lighting and my equipment) is the pink hue of the bricks. The mosque was built at the junction of two rivers that are the very reason for this city's name: Kuala Lumpur. Transliterated into English, it means "muddy confluence". (Click on confluence if you aren't study for your SATs at the moment to remind yourself that it means a joining of two rivers.) The grounds are subtle, but lush and welcoming. You might call it jungle landscaping. Finally, the mosque prayer area is open to the elements, and raised only slightly above the surrounding walkway. All of this makes it feel more like a neighborhood place where locals might gather to pray, rest, and socialise. Not surprisingly, local Muslims do just that.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia XIII

Having lived my entire life in areas covered by deciduous trees and pines, I am unaccustomed to such lush settings. Nothing could prepare me for the urban jungles of Malaysia. (I presume much is the same throughout Southeast Asia.) Consider that Western Malaysia was one giant rainforest until two hundred years ago when the British arrived to plant plantations of oil palms, rubber trees, and coconut trees. Look for yourself on Google maps, or look out the window on any countryside road; most of the land is now covered by oil palms plantations.

The remaining spots of undomesticated lands simply spring to life, growing as they had for millions of years previously. (Taman Negara rainforest is over one hundred million years old.) I was continuously overwhelmed by the effortless beauty of a tree-lined street, or a massive tree jutting out in a pedestrian walkway. A few inches of concrete were no match for the root systems of these hulking trees.

In the countryside, many homes had coconut, mango, and banana trees in their yards. As one native said to me at Silverfish Books, "This is God's country. Throw a few seeds on the ground, and (a few years later) you have a mango tree."

In this picture, I was walking to see the drum circle at Perdana Lake Gardens. This corner is one of the main entrances to the northern section of a large park on the west side of Kuala Lumpur that once held British estates.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia XII

Across the street from the national railways headquarters is the old main railway station -- Kuala Lumpur Station. Also known as KL Station. It was replaced in 2001 by KL Sentral Station which is one stop to the south.

A hotel and restaurant are also contained within this building.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia XI

Fortunately, across the street are two stunning examples of colonial architecture. Viewed across the gardens surrounding the national mosque, this is the national railways company headquarters.

This is one of Kuala Lumpur's best examples of Moorish architecture. It draws upon styles from southern Spain and North Africa.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia X

Built to intimidate or celebrate? You be the judge. Ask yourself the same about Westminster Abbey in London.

This is the national mosque.

I was intimidated, not by the bad architecture, but by the man at the gate. (Don't worry, other mosques in the city are more beautiful.) An aggressive gatekeeper yelled at me as I tried to enter an area clearly labeled "Tourists" with an inviting arrow.

"CLOSED!"
"Huh?"
"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
"What?"
"CLOSED! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
"This sign says I may enter."
"NO! CLOSED! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
"No. Thank you."

I walked around the man with a puzzled look. He stared at me until I was out of his sight. Nice way to welcome someone to your national mosque.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia IX

Public toilets are nearly everywhere in Kuala Lumpur, but they are manned -- rather "womanned" -- and require a small sum to use. Twenty Malaysian cents (about six US cents) earns you the right along with a small roll of toilet paper.

This one was outside the national mosque.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia VIII

When I saw this political flyer advertising a recent election candidate, a few things struck me as noteworthy.

1) The candidate is a woman and wearing a headscarf. Presumably she is a muslim. In many Islamic nations, this is prohibited.

2) Her photograph is featured prominently. In many Islamic nations, this is prohibited.

3) The flyer carries three languages: Bahasa Melayu, Chinese, and Tamil. This is another example of multiculturalism in modern Malaysian culture.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia VII

Inside the Hindu temple, there were two large monuments built. This one is the smaller of the two, but is clearer in photographs. The detail is easier to see. The peak is built from many smaller, supporting figures. The other monument was twice as tall.

As seen in many of my previous blog photos of temples in Asia, I like the framing of contrast between the rising city against the oasis of preservation. Asian cities are quick to pave and rebuild, except their places of worship.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia VI

This was my first time to a Hindu temple. People were generally quite welcoming at Hindu temples throughout Kuala Lumpur. The same cannot be said for mosques. On several occasions, I was barked at by angry men at the front gates about what to do and not to do. By the end of my trip, I found myself replying to these "gatekeepers" in elementary school French or Japanese. They were clueless and waived me through. The goal of these men -- yes, I stress the men part here -- was clearly to intimidate foreigners. Congratulations on your success!

Outside each Hindu temple, stalls sold fresh flowers wrapped with twine to form colorful necklaces. These weren't for humans to wear, however. People would buy them and place on statues inside the temple.

Having come this far in my tour, I realized you, the reader, may not know about the ethnic make-up of Malaysia. Indians and Chinese arrived here during the British colonial era, pre-World World II. They were used initially for hard labor. Upon the formation of the Malaysian Republic, all ethnicities were eligible for citizenship. What distinguishes Malaysia from its multicultural neighbors -- Singapore and Indonesia -- is that non-Malay children learn their mother tongue at home and school first, and Bahasa Melayu as a second language. Usually, this is a southern Chinese dialect for the Chinese (Hokkien, Cantonese, or Hakka), and usually Tamil for Indians. As a second or third language, people learn English. Language-specific schools for the Chinese and Indians dot the landscape in Malaysia. Finally, non-Malays were not forced to take Malaysian names, as was the case in Indonesia. I will write more about this mix of cultures and people when relevant later.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia V

I like this picture of a family restaurant, just outside the Chinese temple, because something about the setting makes me imagine I am in India. Having never been to India, I only know it by photographs, but this is how I imagine it.

Family restaurants in Kuala Lumpur's Chinatown were quite similar: an open-air kitchen lay in half the floor and odd seating in the other half. Tables were arranged as necessary by arriving customers and their parties. The whole affair was quite informal. (This was somewhat different for Malaysian and Indian restaurants.)

I also like the contrast between the old street sign, the peeling paint, the tangled wires, and the air-conditioning unit squeezed into the wall just above. On the far left, a man washes some dishes in a plastic bucket with soapy water below an exhaust vent bursting out of the building.

When eating on the street or these small family restaurants, plates and silverware were cleaner than I expected. Oddly, Malaysians -- of all backgrounds (Malay, Chinese, and Indian) -- ate with a fork and a spoon. Knives and chopsticks were a rarity.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia IV

In the southern part of Kuala Lumpur's Chinatown (really just a few blocks from North to South), lies a Chinese temple. It is classically ornate -- red gateway and gold leafing everywhere -- but the incense burning is unique. Wound into virtual bird cages, these incense sticks were hung one over another with messages written to the dead in Chinese.

The temple was tiny -- no more than 100 sq. m. inside, so the incense burning easily overwhelmed any normal air flow. You can see in this picture the smoky atmosphere. Leaving the temple your clothes carried the fragrance.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia III

Kuala Lumpur is a bit dirtier than Tokyo, but no dirtier than New York City (Manhattan). The streets have a bit of garbage in the gutters and trash smells strong given the heat. I found the car exhaust the most difficult. When walking through busy areas with trucks and buses (both diesel), I would have pounding headaches that sometimes lasted for hours. These only finally faded when I left the city. At the end of a few days I was dulled to the sensation. I wonder if anyone has studied the effects on children? Some people worked on the streets selling food or goods, or even shining shoes. Idling buses and trucks sat nearby. They appeared fine.

Most public buses in Kuala Lumpur, and Malaysia for that matter, were not air-conditioned. Shocking as this may be to some foreigners, locals generally adapt to the hot and humid conditions. It is common for Singaporeans to live most of the year without air-conditioning at their homes. A breeze from open windows is enough. Don't worry: Long distance buses in Malaysia are like refrigerators inside.

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia II

Now that I have traveled to a few countries during my stay in Tokyo -- Singapore, Hongkong, Korea, Taiwan, and Malaysia -- I am still surprised by cities each time I land. The airports are nearly uniform everywhere. The only difference is the variety of languages that appear on signs. The difference starts on the journey from the airport into the city. What do the highway signs or the train tickets look like?

Some things are completely domestic to each country. Two things that come to mind are payphones and taxis. Payphones in Kuala Lumpur were predictably dirty. Japan is the one place I would dare use a public phone. Unlike most places I have traveled, they feel more like a home telephone from the 1960s or 1970s. The cord is curly plastic like United States analog phones from the 1980s and 1990s, not metallic like Time Square and these photos.

The taxis were tiny Proton-brand cars with manual transmissions, and the drivers refused most destinations. Many tried to travel without using the meter. (This is most negative point about travel in Kuala Lumpur.)

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia I

The first time I went overseas as an adult, I traveled to Hongkong. I had worked for nine months at my first full-time job and had long dreamed of traveling to Hongkong. I bought the old British colony flag in California as an inspiration; I still hang it wherever I live.

I had no idea what the city would look like on the ground. Tour guides are full of skylines, temples, and festivals. Few include pictures of general city life. I was surprised by Hongkong at ground level. I remember the ticking sound pedestrian signals emit at each intersection. One for wait; another for walk.

So this is Kuala Lumpur. I'll tell you more about life on the ground in the next few posts.