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Malaysia
In certain places there are always certain expectations. So there I stood at the base of the world's tallest building in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, with the expectation of taking a ride to the sky- 88 floors above the ground. However, security in a few broken-English words explained that the building was not open to the public. How could this be?
Why would you build the world's tallest building, which is currently starring in the Hollywood blockbuster movie, "Entrapment" and not allow the public to go up in it? It's like going to a family reunion while on a diet! What's the point? Do they tell you not to look up in the Sistine Chapel or that you're not allowed to yell your lungs out to create an echo in the Grand Canyon? No, they don't. If you go to Niagara Falls and don't ride the Maiden of the Mist, you haven't experienced the falls. So I was determined to make it up the 88 stories of the Petronas Twin Towers.
Since my determination was not to the level of warranting a run for the million and a half steps, I opted instead for a Chinese proverb I had seen the day before at a business closed for the day. "Stop wasting your time staring at closed doors and notice the ones that are opened." So with that in mind, I approached a guard, "Excuse me sir, I'm a journalist from the United States, working for the mumble mumble Post Times and I'm interested in getting a tour of your magnificent towers for an upcoming article." "You need to speak with public relations department. Let me contact them for you," the well spoken guard replied. A little sweet talking and newspaper name dropping secured me a tour time the next day, as long as a security check cleared me.
Sure enough, a lady met with me the following day and we shot skyward in their double-decked elevators all the way to the…42nd floor. It seems my name dropping was only good enough to get my foot in the door. There I stood, halfway to the top of the world…record. My guide was very professional while showing me around the skybridge, which connects the two towers on the 41st and 42nd floors. Myself trying to act as a professional journalist played the game and asked some mundane questions when really all I wanted was to plead the lady to take me to the top. I could tell it wouldn't have gotten me anywhere, so I dropped back down to the ground two times faster than it should have taken.
Theory Time: The towers were built at the start of the Asian economic crisis. Like most new buildings in Malaysia, they stand empty and unfinished. At night, you can only see a small amount of the windows illuminating the lower half of the towers. This leaves me to believe it is more like a Hollywood set than they would want to admit, spectacularly impressive on the outside, but hollow on the inside.
No matter how hollow it is, the twin towers still stands as the official tallest building structure in the world, according to an American-based organization responsible for the designation. Being just like Americans, though, always hating the thought of losing, the organization recently created three other categories to put the US back on top for the battle of the sky. The Petronas Towers still hold the lead for the measurement from the ground to the top of the structure, but the new tallest building with the highest occupied floor is the US Sears Tower in Chicago. The tallest building from ground to rooftop again is the Sears Tower. The tallest building to the top of a spire or antenna is held by the World Trade Center in New York City. The bad news is, that on the horizon, the Chinese are in the process of building a tower to destroy all the records. Don't fret, for not even the Chinese will be daring enough to compete for the newest category. The tallest building that has withstood a major explosion on its foundation, which will be held by the World Trade Center long into the future. Isn't it great to live in the country that writes the rules?
My guide did inject that even with the new record-breaking building being built, Malaysia will still retain the title of the tallest twin towers. My deduction on why they built two when they would have a hard enough time filling one goes back to the fact Asia is an area based on bargaining. I can hear them now, "How much to build the tallest building in the world? Oh, that's too much, need cheaper. What if we buy two?"
If you are ever in Kuala Lumpur, make sure you check out the beautiful towers, but don't stress about going up. Instead, focus your attention on the tourist-friendly communication tower, which is the 4th tallest in the world. Not only do they have a 360-degree observation deck and revolving restaurant, but you get to experience one of the best kept secrets in the race for the biggest, tallest, highest. You are able to dine at the world's highest McDonald's. I chose the strawberry sundae and enjoyed the elevated view along with the elevated price.
I have finally discovered the singular most sensational thing about traveling in a third world country. Unfortunately for women, it's a men-only activity.
I had found the place I was looking for, a saloon run by Indians. (not Native Americans, but natives of India) Reputation wise, the Indians are considered the best. To date, I've been served by an Indonesian in a parking lot, a Chinese woman in a back-alley business in Chinatown, a Malaysian with a love for ears, and a Thai in a fishing village built upon stilts out at sea. The saloon I walked into this day no longer had the swinging doors of the Old West, but had upgraded once the air conditioning was installed. I sat down and leaned back into my seat. A sparkle in my eye, I couldn't help but notice this saloon was decked with its very own disco ball. Awaiting the start of a Bee Gee's tune I was met by a Travolta-like Indian, for he was the king of this dance floor. I sat back and grinned as he started his all-too familiar dance. I closed my eyes to better see his moves, for that is the best way to really enjoy a shave by an expert barber.
I don't know if it's a mix up in translation or pronunciation, but a saloon in Malaysia is the same as a salon in the US. Ever since my first shave in a parking lot off the back of a guy's motor scooter, I've been addicted to this pure-pleasurable experience which costs less than one US dollar.
Each barber has his or her own rituals and methods of accomplishing the same thing. The poorer street barbers tend to use the old straight razor that is sharpened on a piece of worn leather. Nowadays, I try to shy away from these razors for they tend to pull the whiskers out instead of cutting. The more established barbershops use the straight razor format but are designed to use replaceable razor blades. The Indian not only used a new, super-sharp blade, but replaced it halfway through with another blade during the second shave, which made sure not one stubble survived.
The Thai tend to do a massage on the head and shoulders, the Malays use powder during the second shave, and the Indian rubbed my face with something for ten minutes. I didn't know if he was doing a wax and shine on my face or what, but he told me that it was an ancient Indian medicine only available in India. Whatever it was, it made me feel like my cheeks had been pumped full of novocaine. I walked away in numb amazement. It would be three days before I could feel any growth.
Some of the barbers use hot towels on my face while others have pulled wet cold towels straight from a refrigerator. In my final days in Malaysia, was the first time I had ever had my ears shaved, inside and out. Any stray hairs growing on my forehead were history. I've given up on trying to figure out when everything is finished, for some trim my hair, comb my hair, shave my neck, and even go up my nose with a pair of scissors. Now, I just wait to be kicked out of the seat.
I'm thinking the shave is why the Andy Griffith-like characters of the past hung out in the barbershops in America. The last time I asked about a shave in the states, the barber said that it was $15 and he didn't even have a disco ball. No wonder they have disappeared in the US, losing out to the more stylish salons. I'll take an Indian saloon over an American salon any day of the week- for a shave that is.
Malaysia's population is made up of Chinese, Indians, and Malays, with the country's official religion being Muslim. Even though Muslim is the official language, the country embraces a freedom of religion, which is witnessed by the variety of Hindu and Buddhist temples and a smattering of Christian churches found throughout the country. Malaysia, with a population of 20 million, has to be one of the more advanced countries in South-East Asia, currently changing from a nation that exports natural resources to an industrialized nation exporting manufactured goods. Kuala Lumpur, a city that is so advanced that it has its very own Kenny Rogers Roasters, was in the process of trying to crack down on their huge problem of pirated movies and software, in hopes of attracting the computer industries to their country. In Chinatown, you could buy compact discs of the most recent movies or programs for less than $2.50. The new Star Wars movie showed up on the streets for sell only a few days after its release in the US. For me, two major factors on how advanced and developed Malaysia is becoming is by the fact that the tap water is safe in most cities to drink and the roads and traffic laws tend to be better maintained.
Trying to move throughout a country is easier than one would think. The public transportation ends up being better in the third world nations rather than in the more advanced countries. It's because the people can't afford their own cars, or the population is too great for the not-so-great roads. In Indonesia, thousands of small vans filled the streets. However, the trick was trying to figure out the number for the route you needed. Once on board, you would squeeze in to fit all the passengers the driver could pick up along his route. It's always fun watching people hang out the doors and the driver still stop the van to pick up one more. Once you got to where you wanted to be, people would shout out, what sounded like "Gigi Gigi." So, feeling empowered with words I knew not the meaning of, I confidently let out the"Gigi Gigi" call and the van stopped for me. It wasn't until I was leaving the country that I learned that I was actually yelling out the word for "teeth" instead of the word "Kiri Kiri" which means left, the direction the driver would pull over to let you out.
Now here in Malaysia, I walked up to the bus station in time to see the bus I needed pulling out of the lot. Unlike Indonesia, the bus driver keeps on driving no matter what you do to get their attention. At the bus station, the parking lot is encircled with food stalls and the hotel I stayed in the previous night because of missing the last bus by minutes. Busses line up with their destinations written on a board in their front windshield. The place I'm heading to was Cherating, and it had two busses sitting empty. I learned that there isn't any type of bus schedule, just a method of waiting for a driver to show up from his lunch break or wherever 20 bus drivers hang out. So what you do is wait and watch for any activity gathering around one of your busses. That why I, like a lost sheep, climbed on to a bus full of locals awaiting our driver. I sit down for what could have been an eternity, only to have the whole bus jump up and rush off the bus, heading for another bus. A driver was spotted and the scramble was on.
Once on the bus, you would imagine the hardest part was over. On the contrary, it's arriving at your unknown destination that is difficult. Usually, I grab the bus attendant and tell them in a sign language that it is their responsibility to tell me when I should get off this bus, unless they want me riding with them all day. I told him "Cherating" and he nodded with understanding. While we were driving along, though, I saw signs like "Cherating Coffee Shop," "Cherating Drug Store," "Welcome to Cherating," and "You are now leaving Cherating." I stood up, enraged that Cherating had just went by, while flapping my arms in the "why did you let this happen to me?" manner. But, sure enough, everyone on the bus waved their hands in a "no, no, you OK" manner and within minutes I was being dropped off at the doorstep of "Cherating Guesthouse for Anxious Tourists."
To help eliminate this problem, I sometimes try to latch onto locals going my way while I wait at the bus stops. Luckily, they usually give me the sympathetic stare and nod that they will help. However, one time I tried to start chatting to this Malaysian girl. She responded by opening up a folder and showing me her Tae Kwon-Do diploma. I understood her subtle way of saying, "leave me alone or I'll give you a roundhouse kick to the head." Anyhow, I don't think she was going my way.
When it comes to eating in South East Asia, you've got three choices. You can either eat at restaurants catering to tourists, restaurants catering to locals, or the street venders catering to passerbys. I easily drift from one type to the next depending upon my level of adventure at that hour. When the stomach acid is strong enough to stage off any attack, I head for the street vendors where the rule is the food tastes better than it looks. Street vendors are reminiscent of the food stalls found at county fairs or festivals, offering a couple varieties on one type of food. In large cities, every street corner is covered with these mobile chefs. If you're lucky, the city has a designated market. In Kota Bharu, the vendors begin building their temporary restaurants in a parking lot every evening around four. By six o'clock, you can choose from over 30 meals on wheels, ranging from the mouth watering to the stomach churning. The fresh donut cart was one of the mouthwatering carts while the "You buy it, we deep fry it" left me guessing. I thought Americans were deep fried crazy, but Malaysia was the first time I ever saw battered and deep-fried chicken claw. The best thing about the night markets was that you are able to visually pick and choose a whole meal before sitting down for the feast. Growing and learning as I go, I've quickly evolved into a professional night marketeer. I noticed this growth the night I wandered the market with a coke in one hand and a corn on the cob in the other. I munched away as I walked through the streets, a trail of dogs cleaning up after me.
Since traveling through South East Asia, the ability to surprise me has been diminished with every passing day. For the most part, Malaysia has been a quite comfortable country to travel through. Without the surprises, though, comfortable becomes boring. So what could be more appropriate than on my final evening in Malaysia, in the very Muslim traditional town of Kota Bharu, for me to be both shocked and surprised by the same event.
Bordering the nighttime food market, I noticed a group gathering around a gentleman with three wooden boxes. Moving in tight, I gave one of the other observers a confused shake of my head. Then he responded in an airy whisper usually used in bad horror movies, saying only one word "cobra." Cobra, I thought, then flashed back to a snake charmer pantomime. No, the only charming that night would be done on the crowd gathered. Sure enough, the owner opens a box and out comes a snake rising up in the evil "Rikki TikkiTavi" sort of way. The head flared and my childhood fears came racing back. The man began a long spin in Malaysian, speaking passionately while demonstrating his ability to dodge the striking serpent. I'm impressed. There I sat on the ground, not ten feet away from a man toying with an animal symbolized in our society as one of the most evil and deadly snakes. Where was the hat, because this street performer had easily earned his wage from me. The snake handler pulled a white substance from another box and then grabbed a kid from the audience. Rubbing the kid's leg with the mystery substance, the charmer created a soapy-like lather, while still holding the utmost attention of the cobra and the crowd. He rinses the child's leg, which becomes a stark contrast to the filthy other leg. Finished with the kid, the man began lathering his own arms and face. Now I get it! This guy is selling small bars of soap like the soap you fill your suitcase with while staying in hotels. The man was using a cobra to sell Motel 6 soap! I have heard of guys like him but this was my first time actually meeting an authentic Snake Oil-of-Olay Salesman.
Charming as Malaysia seems, I'm currently traveling in Thailand where the only thing that competes for the biggest and best titles is my appetite and their food, which have two levels of spicy, tourist spicy and Thai spicy.
Burning up,
Jonathan Adams
To get a glimpse and the real lowdown on the world's tallest building, you can check it out at http://www.klcc.com.my/Showcase/PTT/ps_ptt_overview.htm
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