Malay Day
Yesterday I took a 1-day trip to Penang, Malaysia. It was for a business meeting, but then I had a few hours to look around also.
Penang (pronounced “PEE-nang” by the locals) is an island on the western side of the Malay Peninsula. It’s a bit more than an hour flight from Singapore. On the flight there, a Singapore Air flight operated by Malaysia Airlines, they played rap music most of the way. I was impressed that they served lunch on a 75-minute flight — it was a simple chicken curry with a somewhat sweet flavor in the same way that some Western BBQ sauces taste a bit sweet.
The Penang Airport is smaller than the Singapore Airport, but it does have one additional feature: domestic flights. It occurred to me that every flight in and out of Singapore is international, since they only have one airport. For American cities, being able to say your airport is “international” is a mark of pride — San Jose Airport makes kind of a big deal out of it — but in small Asian countries, it may mean more to have domestic flights available. That signifies a mobile and wealthy population. In Malaysia, the other major airport is Kuala Lumpur.
The first thing I noticed is that a fair fraction of the women wear head scarves. The Muslim population is significant here. Take a look at the Malaysian flag sometime: It’s got red and white stripes with a blue field in the upper-left corner, but rather than stars, it has a crescent. And just as Western airports offer “prayer rooms” (which are essentially Christian, reflecting the majority religion), the Penang airport offers Muslim prayer rooms—separately marked “male” and “female.”
I changed some dollars into ringgit and went to find a taxi. I saw a large counter marked “Taxi” inside the terminal, so I went there and told them where I wanted to go. Although the place was less than a mile away, it cost 22 ringgit. That’s only about $6. But you’ll see other prices later in this post, showing that it is a relatively expensive fare.
The reason for the central taxi counter seems to be the prevalence of “illegal taxis,” which a sign outside warned travelers to avoid. These are common at Asian airports—they pick up foreigners and charge them a lot—but have been kept in check recently by such control efforts. I’m pleased with these efforts. They create a more civil and welcoming society, as well as making it safer for travelers in general, and women in particular.
After a very nice meeting, my host told me he had arranged a “taxi tour” of Penang, meaning that he had hired a driver. He asked if I preferred “nature or culture”—basically meaning either that we could go north to the undeveloped, rainforest part of Penang, or more into the city area to see temples and streets. I had heard about a very nice butterfly farm to the north, but in the end, I opted to go into Penang city and George Town. I’ll have to see the butterflies next time.
The driver handed me a tourist booklet with information about Penang (put out by the Penang Tourist Action Council). I glanced over it as we drove into town, and found a few hilarious entries. For instance: “George Town is a port city that has been shaped through the centuries by trade, commerce, and good old-fashioned graft.” Or the advertisement from Island Hospital (“Penang’s Centre of Medical Excellence”) that reads, “Sun, surf, and surgery—Come for a holiday, get treated by Asia’s top-ranking surgeons, and spend your time recuperating on a hammock overlooking the vast blue sea!”
I think I’ll stick to the taxi tour.
A tiny, abbreviated, totally out-of-context history of the area goes like this: Malaysia (like Singapore) was a British colony for a long time, and Penang was used as a military and trade outpost (beginning in 1786). Fort Cornwallis still stands in the center of George Town, complete with cannon mounted above the walls and pointed out at sea. While the British were there, they imposed a heavy land tax based on the area of land owned. The structure of society at the time was feudal— a few powerful Chinese clans owned most of the land, while the peasants loyal to them lived on it. The clans, mainly the Khoo, Tan, and Lim families, were having none of this tax idea, so they moved offshore. I’m hazy on the details of how this all worked out, but they did eventually come back. It is now possible to visit the ancestral houses of the clans, which have been rebuilt as elaborate decorated shrines that pay tribute to the family.
First we visited the Khoo clan (I could not avoid thinking of the KKK), called Khoo Kongsi in Malay. The house is amazing. It has a manor-like front with a porch and columns, all done up with fancy woodwork, dragons on the roof, brightly colored paint, etc. Inside are scrolls and murals honoring the Khoo family and various Chinese philosophical ideas like the interplay of happiness and sorrow in human life.
There was also a history section explaining that the Khoo family traces its roots back to the Qi province in China, which is situated on the east coast between Beijing and Shanghai. At some point, the Qui family fell out of favor with the local authorities and fled south, establishing a new stronghold in what is now Malaysia. The ancestry was written out in meticulous detail in ledger books and on wall charts: Every Khoo is known and tabulated in the family records. They listed the academic degrees and occupations of many generations of Khoos (we are on the 22nd generation now, by the way), including some who graduated from college as late as 1997. It seems that many have historically served as Justices of the Peace for Penang, while others were doctors, lawyers, and, these days, a few engineers. Who says the Chinese dynasties aren’t around anymore? (And of course, only the male Khoos were listed.)
Next the driver took me to Little India, where he dropped me off at the end of a street and told me he’d be waiting at the other end. I strolled along, poking my head into shops. Mostly there were textile and clothing stores, as well as street food vendors, fruit and spice markets, and other sundry stores. It was really a functioning town in and of itself. One store required visitors to remove their shoes. It sold various spiritual items and had a big sign on the wall advertising their consulting services: Elimination of negative spiritual energy, selection of a house that faces in the right direction, etc.
Then we saw the Thai temple, which is Buddhist. I had specifically requested to go here because I am interested in Buddhist temples around the world. I have now visited them in many Asian countries, and what I have learned is that they are totally culturally dependent, different in each place as needed. This makes sense to me: people will create what they need in their local religious center, and conversely, only something that fits the local culture will attract people to support it.
So the Thai temple in Penang told its own story. It was dilapidated in physical appearance, but that didn’t matter to the crowd of people resting and praying there. It was very basic, with simple stone walls and a dark interior. A small cluster of Buddhist figures stood behind a glass encasement — apparently the Buddha and a number of associated gods or attendants. Incense burned everywhere, as well as lotus candles and some kind of offering oil. People drifted in an out, waving sticks of incense in prayer. Quite a large number of desperately poor people were sitting around in the shade of the building, many with poor clothing, missing teeth, and a hungry look. A dog napped beneath the offering table at the entry way.
Clearly the temple was open to all, and no one seemed to be particularly in charge while I was there, although a woman was replacing burned-down candles and a man began to beat a drum mounted on the wall. As in other religious centers (be they Christian or whatever), I didn’t really know what was going on, but that didn’t seem to matter either.
Before I got inside, I was hailed by a man who spoke only a bit of English, smiling widely. He wanted to talk about America (“America! Black power!” he said, raising a fist like Malcolm X), and didn’t want me to go inside. I suspect he was looking for money, and from our brief conversation, it was clear that his English was quite minimal, so I took my leave with what I hope was a friendly gesture, and headed inside. After poking around a bit, I was joined by a man who had been standing by silently as I spoke with the other guy outside. He proceeded to give me a guided tour of the temple pointing to the Buddha, showing me a printed prayer book (in Chinese), indicating that people were praying, and otherwise smiling and gesturing. When I made comments in English such as “Yes, this is where people pray, I see, thank you,” he nodded vigorously and mumbled something incomprehensible. Not a word of English.
There was little I could do to communicate but thank him for his hospitality. And I will admit that I was keeping close tabs on my wallet. Eventually I was ready for the taxi — it was an uncomfortable situation — so I left the building and went back toward the street. Then I heard the man’s first English: “You got money?”
What to do in these situations? He was clearly very poor. He looked at me and saw money, which is surely true. I—and nearly everyone in the US—am far richer than this man hanging around the Thai temple in Penang on the middle of a weekday, with a dirty shirt and rotting teeth.
I used to think that I could make my life simple and logical if I could just find the right principles to act by. Some set of rules that told me, “In this case, do X, in that case, do Y. And never, ever do Z.” But the complexity of the real world does not fit this model very well. Now I believe that a wiser approach is to develop my sensitivity to each situation that I am in, so that I can act appropriately in each case without needing to rely on ideas, concepts, or abstract principles. Because my sensitivity and wisdom are not perfect, I still make mistakes, but my intention is always to act appropriately.
In this case, although I wanted to help, I could not come up with a skillful way to give him anything. There were so many people hanging around, it seemed unwise to get out any money for this one man. I was aware that I felt some annoyance that he was only seeing my wallet and not seeing me as a person, but I hope that did not influence my declining to give. In the end, I got in my taxi and drove away, but I did not close the poor people out of my heart.
It was getting on toward dinnertime, and the tourist-type places were closing. The driver dropped me off at a shopping mall called Gurney Place, which turned out to be more interesting than it sounds like. Some stores were Western, like the Nike store, the Body Shop, and some electronics places—and had Western prices. Others were more local, like the one selling Chinese medicine, or the one with dried fish chips and coconut candy, and these were quite inexpensive and intriguing.
The food selections were interesting. There was a sushi place, a Korean place, and something called simply “The Food You Loved.” I opted for the food court, which had a place labeled “Malay Food.” In Malaysia, one should try Malay food. I quickly learned that nasi means “rice,” and decided on a dish called nasi paprik seafood, spicy (paprika) seafood stew over plain rice. The seafood turned out to be a combination of tiny squid and calamari rings, a couple of whole shrimp (argh, I am clumsy dealing with the full shells), and some crab. The flavor was interesting; I would hardly have called it paprika. It was more like Vietnamese food to my tongue. I washed it down with fresh kiwi juice — yum! One strange encounter: the guy at the drinks counter exclaimed as I ordered the kiwi juice, “You are so clean!” Total price: 6.50 rinngit, or about $2.
Then I strolled around the shops and ended up buying a couple of cheap pieces of jewelry from the little stalls that are common at malls. Some earrings and a bracelet made of wood and stone. Total price: 16 ringgit, or about $5.
Although superficially like Singapore in terms of the shopping, the mall clearly had a less European bent to it. For instance, the bathroom included a couple of stalls with Asian-style toilets (where you squat), and there was no paper. I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again: If you are traveling in Asia, always carry a few packets of tissues with you. You will be oh-so-grateful when you run into a BYOP (bring-your-own-paper) restroom.
I came out and found my taxi waiting. During the trip, I had experienced a little discomfort with basically having a chauffeur for the afternoon; that’s not my typical social class. But then I figured, how else can I see Penang in a few hours? The driver was a nice guy, spoke good English, and was apparently happy to have a single job to do all afternoon. He charged 100 ringgit for the whole voyage, including the trip back to the airport, but I gave him 120 (partly because it wasn’t worth changing that last 20 ringgit back into dollars). I was aware that I was easily giving this driver extra money, when I felt that I couldn’t give the poor man at the Thai temple 20 ringgit. And it would have been a larger sum for the poorer man. But this kind of calculation is only part of the whole picture.
On the drive back to the airport, we passed a large plantation-like place called the Malaysian Buddhist Meditation Center. I wanted to visit! It looked like a retreat center. How nifty. We also passed various mansions like the governor’s palace and some walled homes that were likely British officials’ residences during the colonial period. Quite an interesting place, Penang.
I have to comment also on the clouds! The clouds of Malaysia are not like any other clouds I’ve seen. They are vast and majestic, and generally oriented vertically, rather than spread across the sky. That is, the aspect ratio has them much taller than they are wide. One looked kind of like a nuclear mushroom cloud, to be honest. But overall, I was stunned that clouds could be like that, when I am used to seeing them spread horizontally by the winds that move them around.
Malaysia is a sunnier place than Singapore, where the sun is always a bit hazy behind impending rain clouds. I hadn’t realized that I was missing deep blue sky, but I was, because I felt happy cruising around Malaysia, and when I looked at why, it was because of the color of the sunlight.
Penang (pronounced “PEE-nang” by the locals) is an island on the western side of the Malay Peninsula. It’s a bit more than an hour flight from Singapore. On the flight there, a Singapore Air flight operated by Malaysia Airlines, they played rap music most of the way. I was impressed that they served lunch on a 75-minute flight — it was a simple chicken curry with a somewhat sweet flavor in the same way that some Western BBQ sauces taste a bit sweet.
The Penang Airport is smaller than the Singapore Airport, but it does have one additional feature: domestic flights. It occurred to me that every flight in and out of Singapore is international, since they only have one airport. For American cities, being able to say your airport is “international” is a mark of pride — San Jose Airport makes kind of a big deal out of it — but in small Asian countries, it may mean more to have domestic flights available. That signifies a mobile and wealthy population. In Malaysia, the other major airport is Kuala Lumpur.
The first thing I noticed is that a fair fraction of the women wear head scarves. The Muslim population is significant here. Take a look at the Malaysian flag sometime: It’s got red and white stripes with a blue field in the upper-left corner, but rather than stars, it has a crescent. And just as Western airports offer “prayer rooms” (which are essentially Christian, reflecting the majority religion), the Penang airport offers Muslim prayer rooms—separately marked “male” and “female.”
I changed some dollars into ringgit and went to find a taxi. I saw a large counter marked “Taxi” inside the terminal, so I went there and told them where I wanted to go. Although the place was less than a mile away, it cost 22 ringgit. That’s only about $6. But you’ll see other prices later in this post, showing that it is a relatively expensive fare.
The reason for the central taxi counter seems to be the prevalence of “illegal taxis,” which a sign outside warned travelers to avoid. These are common at Asian airports—they pick up foreigners and charge them a lot—but have been kept in check recently by such control efforts. I’m pleased with these efforts. They create a more civil and welcoming society, as well as making it safer for travelers in general, and women in particular.
After a very nice meeting, my host told me he had arranged a “taxi tour” of Penang, meaning that he had hired a driver. He asked if I preferred “nature or culture”—basically meaning either that we could go north to the undeveloped, rainforest part of Penang, or more into the city area to see temples and streets. I had heard about a very nice butterfly farm to the north, but in the end, I opted to go into Penang city and George Town. I’ll have to see the butterflies next time.
The driver handed me a tourist booklet with information about Penang (put out by the Penang Tourist Action Council). I glanced over it as we drove into town, and found a few hilarious entries. For instance: “George Town is a port city that has been shaped through the centuries by trade, commerce, and good old-fashioned graft.” Or the advertisement from Island Hospital (“Penang’s Centre of Medical Excellence”) that reads, “Sun, surf, and surgery—Come for a holiday, get treated by Asia’s top-ranking surgeons, and spend your time recuperating on a hammock overlooking the vast blue sea!”
I think I’ll stick to the taxi tour.
A tiny, abbreviated, totally out-of-context history of the area goes like this: Malaysia (like Singapore) was a British colony for a long time, and Penang was used as a military and trade outpost (beginning in 1786). Fort Cornwallis still stands in the center of George Town, complete with cannon mounted above the walls and pointed out at sea. While the British were there, they imposed a heavy land tax based on the area of land owned. The structure of society at the time was feudal— a few powerful Chinese clans owned most of the land, while the peasants loyal to them lived on it. The clans, mainly the Khoo, Tan, and Lim families, were having none of this tax idea, so they moved offshore. I’m hazy on the details of how this all worked out, but they did eventually come back. It is now possible to visit the ancestral houses of the clans, which have been rebuilt as elaborate decorated shrines that pay tribute to the family.
First we visited the Khoo clan (I could not avoid thinking of the KKK), called Khoo Kongsi in Malay. The house is amazing. It has a manor-like front with a porch and columns, all done up with fancy woodwork, dragons on the roof, brightly colored paint, etc. Inside are scrolls and murals honoring the Khoo family and various Chinese philosophical ideas like the interplay of happiness and sorrow in human life.
There was also a history section explaining that the Khoo family traces its roots back to the Qi province in China, which is situated on the east coast between Beijing and Shanghai. At some point, the Qui family fell out of favor with the local authorities and fled south, establishing a new stronghold in what is now Malaysia. The ancestry was written out in meticulous detail in ledger books and on wall charts: Every Khoo is known and tabulated in the family records. They listed the academic degrees and occupations of many generations of Khoos (we are on the 22nd generation now, by the way), including some who graduated from college as late as 1997. It seems that many have historically served as Justices of the Peace for Penang, while others were doctors, lawyers, and, these days, a few engineers. Who says the Chinese dynasties aren’t around anymore? (And of course, only the male Khoos were listed.)
Next the driver took me to Little India, where he dropped me off at the end of a street and told me he’d be waiting at the other end. I strolled along, poking my head into shops. Mostly there were textile and clothing stores, as well as street food vendors, fruit and spice markets, and other sundry stores. It was really a functioning town in and of itself. One store required visitors to remove their shoes. It sold various spiritual items and had a big sign on the wall advertising their consulting services: Elimination of negative spiritual energy, selection of a house that faces in the right direction, etc.
Then we saw the Thai temple, which is Buddhist. I had specifically requested to go here because I am interested in Buddhist temples around the world. I have now visited them in many Asian countries, and what I have learned is that they are totally culturally dependent, different in each place as needed. This makes sense to me: people will create what they need in their local religious center, and conversely, only something that fits the local culture will attract people to support it.
So the Thai temple in Penang told its own story. It was dilapidated in physical appearance, but that didn’t matter to the crowd of people resting and praying there. It was very basic, with simple stone walls and a dark interior. A small cluster of Buddhist figures stood behind a glass encasement — apparently the Buddha and a number of associated gods or attendants. Incense burned everywhere, as well as lotus candles and some kind of offering oil. People drifted in an out, waving sticks of incense in prayer. Quite a large number of desperately poor people were sitting around in the shade of the building, many with poor clothing, missing teeth, and a hungry look. A dog napped beneath the offering table at the entry way.
Clearly the temple was open to all, and no one seemed to be particularly in charge while I was there, although a woman was replacing burned-down candles and a man began to beat a drum mounted on the wall. As in other religious centers (be they Christian or whatever), I didn’t really know what was going on, but that didn’t seem to matter either.
Before I got inside, I was hailed by a man who spoke only a bit of English, smiling widely. He wanted to talk about America (“America! Black power!” he said, raising a fist like Malcolm X), and didn’t want me to go inside. I suspect he was looking for money, and from our brief conversation, it was clear that his English was quite minimal, so I took my leave with what I hope was a friendly gesture, and headed inside. After poking around a bit, I was joined by a man who had been standing by silently as I spoke with the other guy outside. He proceeded to give me a guided tour of the temple pointing to the Buddha, showing me a printed prayer book (in Chinese), indicating that people were praying, and otherwise smiling and gesturing. When I made comments in English such as “Yes, this is where people pray, I see, thank you,” he nodded vigorously and mumbled something incomprehensible. Not a word of English.
There was little I could do to communicate but thank him for his hospitality. And I will admit that I was keeping close tabs on my wallet. Eventually I was ready for the taxi — it was an uncomfortable situation — so I left the building and went back toward the street. Then I heard the man’s first English: “You got money?”
What to do in these situations? He was clearly very poor. He looked at me and saw money, which is surely true. I—and nearly everyone in the US—am far richer than this man hanging around the Thai temple in Penang on the middle of a weekday, with a dirty shirt and rotting teeth.
I used to think that I could make my life simple and logical if I could just find the right principles to act by. Some set of rules that told me, “In this case, do X, in that case, do Y. And never, ever do Z.” But the complexity of the real world does not fit this model very well. Now I believe that a wiser approach is to develop my sensitivity to each situation that I am in, so that I can act appropriately in each case without needing to rely on ideas, concepts, or abstract principles. Because my sensitivity and wisdom are not perfect, I still make mistakes, but my intention is always to act appropriately.
In this case, although I wanted to help, I could not come up with a skillful way to give him anything. There were so many people hanging around, it seemed unwise to get out any money for this one man. I was aware that I felt some annoyance that he was only seeing my wallet and not seeing me as a person, but I hope that did not influence my declining to give. In the end, I got in my taxi and drove away, but I did not close the poor people out of my heart.
It was getting on toward dinnertime, and the tourist-type places were closing. The driver dropped me off at a shopping mall called Gurney Place, which turned out to be more interesting than it sounds like. Some stores were Western, like the Nike store, the Body Shop, and some electronics places—and had Western prices. Others were more local, like the one selling Chinese medicine, or the one with dried fish chips and coconut candy, and these were quite inexpensive and intriguing.
The food selections were interesting. There was a sushi place, a Korean place, and something called simply “The Food You Loved.” I opted for the food court, which had a place labeled “Malay Food.” In Malaysia, one should try Malay food. I quickly learned that nasi means “rice,” and decided on a dish called nasi paprik seafood, spicy (paprika) seafood stew over plain rice. The seafood turned out to be a combination of tiny squid and calamari rings, a couple of whole shrimp (argh, I am clumsy dealing with the full shells), and some crab. The flavor was interesting; I would hardly have called it paprika. It was more like Vietnamese food to my tongue. I washed it down with fresh kiwi juice — yum! One strange encounter: the guy at the drinks counter exclaimed as I ordered the kiwi juice, “You are so clean!” Total price: 6.50 rinngit, or about $2.
Then I strolled around the shops and ended up buying a couple of cheap pieces of jewelry from the little stalls that are common at malls. Some earrings and a bracelet made of wood and stone. Total price: 16 ringgit, or about $5.
Although superficially like Singapore in terms of the shopping, the mall clearly had a less European bent to it. For instance, the bathroom included a couple of stalls with Asian-style toilets (where you squat), and there was no paper. I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again: If you are traveling in Asia, always carry a few packets of tissues with you. You will be oh-so-grateful when you run into a BYOP (bring-your-own-paper) restroom.
I came out and found my taxi waiting. During the trip, I had experienced a little discomfort with basically having a chauffeur for the afternoon; that’s not my typical social class. But then I figured, how else can I see Penang in a few hours? The driver was a nice guy, spoke good English, and was apparently happy to have a single job to do all afternoon. He charged 100 ringgit for the whole voyage, including the trip back to the airport, but I gave him 120 (partly because it wasn’t worth changing that last 20 ringgit back into dollars). I was aware that I was easily giving this driver extra money, when I felt that I couldn’t give the poor man at the Thai temple 20 ringgit. And it would have been a larger sum for the poorer man. But this kind of calculation is only part of the whole picture.
On the drive back to the airport, we passed a large plantation-like place called the Malaysian Buddhist Meditation Center. I wanted to visit! It looked like a retreat center. How nifty. We also passed various mansions like the governor’s palace and some walled homes that were likely British officials’ residences during the colonial period. Quite an interesting place, Penang.
I have to comment also on the clouds! The clouds of Malaysia are not like any other clouds I’ve seen. They are vast and majestic, and generally oriented vertically, rather than spread across the sky. That is, the aspect ratio has them much taller than they are wide. One looked kind of like a nuclear mushroom cloud, to be honest. But overall, I was stunned that clouds could be like that, when I am used to seeing them spread horizontally by the winds that move them around.
Malaysia is a sunnier place than Singapore, where the sun is always a bit hazy behind impending rain clouds. I hadn’t realized that I was missing deep blue sky, but I was, because I felt happy cruising around Malaysia, and when I looked at why, it was because of the color of the sunlight.
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