Malay Days By Gary Lee Washington Post Staff Writer Sunday, August 23, 1998; Page E01

Kuala Lumpur's Sultan Abdul Samad building stands magnificently in front of more modern structures. (Photo by Miwako Ikeda/International Stock)

Or so my guide had told me. A Malay chef who had taken his day off from making a spicy beef stew known as rendang to show me around Malaysia's third largest city, Sofyan was scampering a few feet ahead, up the incline called Bukit China. Earlier that afternoon, during a chance meeting in a cafe, he had asked what brought me to this sleepy Malaysian port. These days American visitors to Southeast Asia head to Thailand for low-budget trekking, to Hong Kong for hand-stitched suits and, of late, to Vietnam for reflection on the bloody battles that raged there a generation ago.

Looking up from my glass of sugarcane juice, I wondered what I should tell this stranger with the jet-black eyes and cinnamon-colored skin. That I was drawn halfway around the world by the ball of orange that droops breathtakingly across the Straits of Malacca at dusk? Or that it was the irresistible taste of spicy noodles, prepared by Malaysia's renowned street hawkers, that had attracted me? Or should I acknowledge why I had really come to wander the beige beaches of the Malaysian island of Penang?

I was searching for a place of perfect ethnic harmony.

Through books and photographs, I had amassed an image of Malaysia as home to the world's most extraordinary conglomeration of races and faiths. The demographics of the region are dazzling. Of Malaysia's 21 million inhabitants, about 59 percent are Malays--a brown-skinned people of blood mixed from Chinese, Arabs, Siamese and Javanese. Chinese, who first came as traders in the late 14th century, comprise 32 percent. Indians make up 9 percent. Iban, Kadazan and a handful of other indigenous tribes constitute the rest. Islam, imported by traders from southern India, was embraced by Malays and is now the country's predominant religion. Many Malaysians also practice Hinduism, Taoism and Christianity.

Of course, population statistics tell only part of the story. Over the past century, a few scribes have filled in much of the rest, in vivid detail. In "The Rescue," "Lord Jim" and other tales, 19th-century English author Joseph Conrad wrote of the Malay archipelago as a dark and brooding place, where powerful sultans and rajas rose and fell, Chinese merchants amassed fortunes, and a hard-core British expatriate elite clung to colonial power, all against the background of the humid tropics. More recently, in "The Straits Chinese," Malaysian sociologist Khoo Jo Ee shone a light on the rich subculture of Babas and Nonyas (respectively the male and female offspring of Sino-Malay unions) that flourished for centuries in Penang, Malacca and Singapore.

The more I learned about this region, the more I wanted to immerse myself in it. What adventurous traveler would not be curious about a place where dynasties of Malays, Chinese and Indians had somehow learned to weather deep cultural differences to forge one of Asia's most successful upstart economies? Where marketplaces are crowded with women in traditional garb: Malays in bright sarongs, Indians in multicolored sarongs and Chinese in baggy black trousers? Where locals might start a day with savory Malaysian beef, dig into a lunch of fish curry and dine on egg rolls and noodles?

Could I find remnants of Conrad's Malaysia or Koo's magical world of Babas and Nonyas? To find out, I designed a journey that included stops in the cities of Malacca and Kuala Lumpur and the idyllic island of Penang. Malacca, my starting point, is an ancient port that played a pivotal role in the settlement of the Malay Peninsula. Strategically located on the banks of the Straits of Malacca, it served as a point of entry and massive marketplace for spice merchants and other traders from the far corners of Asia. (Tanqueray based its recipe for Malacca gin on spices collected here in the 1800s.) Successive conquerors claimed the city as a seat of power and built forts here. A century of government by Sumatran princes and sultans eventually gave way to Portuguese colonialists, who remained from 1511 to 1641. Then came the Dutch, who stayed until the late 1700s, when the British took over. They remained until 1957, when the country gained its independence.

A walk through Malacca's dusty streets, past ornate colonial mansions and seedy hotels, convinced me that it was an appropriate beginning to my sojourn. Here, easily reachable by foot, were the relics of colonial rule: the Porta de Santiago, the gateway that was the only surviving piece of A'Famosa, a fortress constructed by the Portuguese in the 1500s; the Stadthuys, a bright red 17th-century structure built by the Dutch as a city hall but now used to house the Malacca Museum; and the skeleton of St. Paul's Church. Destroyed by fire in the mid-1800s, this Portuguese-built house of worship has lain in ruin ever since.

Malacca's Chinatown, a settlement of ancient wooden houses and rustic antiques shops, was a few blocks away. Tucked among plain buildings on the Jalan Tun Tan Cheng Lock, the Baba-Nonya Heritage Museum is a monument to that peculiar bicultural Asian community. On the walls hung the intricate silk paintings brought from China. On shelves were artifacts of Malaysia, including ceramics and carved woodwork. With its elegant furnishings imported from Europe, the house seemed to capture the spirit of grander days, when the parlors were filled with guests almost every night.

I then stopped at the Cafe Malacca, where I struck up a conversation with Sofyan. After reflecting on his question about what brought me to Malaysia, I told him that I wanted to know what makes the mix of this country's ethnic groups work in such harmony. "There must be some secret to it," I said.

"I am not sure we have ethnic harmony," he laughed. "But if you think so, there are probably many reasons for it. In the end, the secret lies in three different places. Come. We have just enough time to visit them."

Our first stop was the Sri Pogyatha Vinoyagar Moorthi Temple. Built of wood in traditional Indian style in 1781, it has been used since then as a place of Hindu worship. Inside is a statue of the god Vinoyagar, the deity with the head of an elephant commonly worshiped among Hindus. Although in slight disrepair, the temple is still used by Indians in Malacca, according to Sofyan.

From there we took a taxi to the Villa Sentosa, a small traditional Malay house on the edge of the city that serves as a museum showing outsiders how most Malays live. The kitchen has basic utensils used for cooking, including mallets for pounding shrimp paste and special knives for carving coconuts. The walls are decorated with baskets woven by native women.

Then we headed for Bukit China, a burial ground for Malaysians of Chinese descent. It's a mid-size incline in a quiet corner of the city, footsteps away from Chinatown. As we climbed, I began to see tombstones rising above the uncut grass. I was at once inspired and mildly irritated. The inspiration came from the stunning view of the city from the top of the hill. The irritation resulted from spending a precious afternoon in a rundown cemetery.

It was not until a week later--after gazing at the ornate facades of Chinese clan houses in Penang, savoring noodles prepared by the hawkers in Kuala Lumpur, and praying among Hindus in bat-filled caves--did I take time to reflect on that afternoon in Malacca. Later, I wondered about what Sofyan had said. The temple, the house and the hill were all worth a visit, but by no means the most spectacular attractions in Malaysia. Even the Baba-Nonya Heritage Museum and other attractions in Malacca were more memorable. Why had he singled them out as the secrets to Malaysia's ethnic harmony?

At first blush, Kuala Lumpur, located about 100 miles inland from Malacca, is a daunting capital. Skyscrapers, concrete and restless crowds dominate the downtown. When I arrived at the airport I asked a taxi driver for an impromptu tour. We began in the tourist-friendly Golden Triangle, where the five-star Marriott towered over the chic Shangri La and the Lot 10 shopping mall and the nearby Sungei Wang shopping plaza. And everywhere gleaming cars jammed one behind the other. "Be glad that it's not rush hour," the driver said. "Then we'd be lucky to move a mile in an hour."

KL, as the city is known, has grand ambitions. Although its population is only 2 million, a rush of new construction seems aimed at transforming it into a metropolis. At 1,483 feet, the Petronas Towers, modernistic twin skyscrapers that beam over the city, are the world's tallest structures. KL's airport, just opened last month, is one of Asia's biggest landing fields. Although the city suffers no shortage of five-star hotels, a half-dozen luxury chains are constructing properties.

These are the fruits of Malaysia's economic boom. Under Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad's helm, the country's economy has moved beyond a narrow focus on the production of tin, rubber and tea. With the help of hefty foreign investment, it boasts major oil refineries, a palm-oil industry, an automobile plant and a high-tech manufacturing complex.

In the past year, the Asian economic crisis has sharply curtailed consumption across Malaysia and weakened the ringgit, the country's currency. At the same time the buying power of the dollar has strengthened dramatically.

Over drinks at the fashionable Royal Selangor Club, a colonial-era watering hole, Edmund Liew, a young Malaysian lawyer of Chinese extraction, and his wife agreed that the spirit of growth has made KL one of Asia's most comfortable cities. "Even in times of economic downturn," Liew said, "the city has a mood of prosperity about it."

For the casual traveler, that mood could make for a stylish vacation. And favorable exchange rates make it more affordable. The accommodations at the Regent, where I stayed at the discount rate of $120 a night, were impeccable. A sumptuous dinner at the elegant Chinese restaurant Shang Palace was only $26 for two. Souvenirs are also remarkably cheap: a pewter salt-and-pepper gift set, a specialty of this tin-mining country, was a steal for $25. And, in a country where service seems to come naturally, bellboys, waiters and salesclerks were always standing close by.

At first I feared that the city's boom-town atmosphere had smothered the colorful ambiance I had come to explore. As I began to walk through the older neighborhoods and side streets, however, I found layers of ethnic subculture without scratching far beneath the surface.

The Central Market, recommended for any visitor to KL, is a must for students of Asian ethnicity. A short walk from the major hotels, it is a showcase for handmade products from Malaysia's ethnic groups. On display were masks from the island of Sarawak, furniture carved from oak by Malay craftsmen, yellow pipes used by Chinese to smoke opium in good times past, batik T-shirts and bathrobes, and chopsticks made of jade.

Following a morning of window-shopping and haggling, I toured the National Gallery, five minutes by foot from the market, and the National Museum, a 10-minute walk further. The Batu Caves, 20 minutes by taxi from the city center, seemed like the perfect retreat into serenity. A series of dimly lit, high-ceilinged rooms inside a towering limestone cliff, the caves are the most memorable tourist attraction in the Malaysian capital. Even with monkeys running wild in and out of dark corners, I found it easy to spend an hour or two there.

The most vivid expression of Malaysia's mix of ethnic cultures came at mealtime. Breakfasts were a melange of rice, dim sum and rendang, a savory beef dish as beloved among Malays as fried chicken is among Americans. For lunch, I opted for the Malay or Indian cafes or small restaurants at the central market or in the central districts of the city. One day it was a spicy curry dish made of fish heads with stewed okra. The next it was a noodle soup. In between came hefty servings of fresh fruits--including coconuts, mangoes and bananas--and sugar cane. Then there was durian, a fleshy fruit with a smell so sharp that many hotels won't allow it to be brought inside, but with a taste so creamy and rich that it stayed on my tongue for hours. For me, every meal ended with teh tarik, a sweet milky tea beloved by Malaysians.

As I waited for a taxi to deliver me to the airport for the journey back to the United States, I reflected on my journey. As it turned out, I had not encountered a perfect ethnic mosaic in Malaysia. At least my local contacts did not think so. In conversations, many Chinese ethnics complained about restrictions imposed by the Malay majority. Requirements that the Malay language be used in the workplace made advancement hard for ethnic groups lacking proficiency in that difficult tongue. Malays complained that Chinese merchants hold too much sway over the economy. Also, the tensions that erupted in race riots in KL in 1969 still lie beneath the surface.

My thoughts turned to my visits to the Malay house, the Hindu temple and Bukit China, the places my guide in Malacca had shown me. I finally understood why he described them as secrets to the charm of the Malay Peninsula.

Decades after it was built, the house had weathered the test of time. It was sturdy and practical in the solid, rather straightforward style most Malays live.

The temple, too, was tried and true. In spite of tumultuous changes that had taken place across the region, including the fall of colonialism, the brief rise of communism and steady industrialization, it remains the oldest operating haven of worship for Hindus of Indian extraction. Bukit China was used as a burial ground for the original Chinese settlers, who came to Malacca in the late 1400s. Five hundred years later, some Chinese still bury their dead there.

Together, the places represented the cornerstones of human existence in Malaysia: home, spiritual fulfillment and death. No matter where we all originated or what our skin tone, my guide seemed to say, our lives are about living under a roof and making peace with a higher being. And in the end, we will, almost to the man and woman, find ourselves reclining under a mound of earth, with the sun and the moon keeping sentry above.

Details: Malaysia

Kuala Lumpur
Getting There: Malaysian Airlines is featuring a special on flights from Newark to Kuala Lumpur, with restrictions, for $855. This fall, Cathay Pacific is also offering an Asia pass, which includes a round trip to Hong Kong and stops in KL and other Asian cities for $999.

Where to Stay: Thanks to a glut in luxury hotels in Kuala Lumpur, some of the city's swankest hostelries are advertising deep discounts. The fashionable Regent (Jalan Bukit Bintang, 800/545-4000), where I spent a couple of nights, is offering a special of $50 a weekend night, including breakfast for two.

For budget travelers, I found the Swiss-Inn (62 Jalan Sultan, telephone 011-60-3-232-3333), a clean, efficient hotel not far from the central market that has doubles for $40 a night.

Where to Eat: In a city where mealtime is everybody's favorite hour, you can get something tasty almost anywhere.

The Peranakan House (No. 4. Jalan SS 23/11), located in the suburb of Petaling Jaya, serves up the best Nonya cooking in the area, according to experts. Dinner for two, with soft drinks and dessert, runs about $16.

For a change of pace, I tried Thai food at Restoran Sri Thai (34 Jalan Sultan Ismail), a centrally located place with a wonderful ambiance. I had a mouth-watering spicy noodle soup and big bowl of pad thai. The tab came to $17 for two.

For Malay cooking, Kapitan's Club (35 Jalan Ampang) was an excellent choice. I stuck to traditional Malay specialties--beef rendang, a spicy dish served with rice and a seafood and bean curd soup. Dinner for two was about $12.

For deluxe Chinese food, the Shang Palace, in the Shangri-La Hotel (11 Jalan Sultan Ismail), is unbeatable. I lunched on spicy Mandarin fish and a bowl of rice for about $15.

For lunch I followed the crowds into small Malay, Chinese and Indian restaurants in and around the central market. One bad meal (curried fish head) was far outweighed by four or five excellent ones.

What to Do: KL is a city for walking and discovering on one's own, but some must-see attractions include the Batu Caves, nine miles north of KL. Thousands of locals make a pilgrimage there in February, and it's reachable by taxi for about $5. The Central Market is an art deco building packed with exotica from across Asia. The Petronas Towers will give a good feel for the city's modernistic aspects. The National Museum gives a good sense of the range and depth of cultures found in Malaysia.

Malacca
Getting There: Malacca is best reachable by bus from the terminal near the central market. The cost for the trip, which takes less than three hours, is about $10.

Where to Stay: For budget travelers, the Palace Hotel (201 Jalan Munshi Abdullah, telephone 011-60-6-282-5355) is a good deal. Doubles run about $15 a night.

What to Do: The city, including Bukit China, the Baba-Nonya Heritage Museum and the other major attractions, can be explored on foot for the most part.

Information: Malaysian Tourism Promotion Board, 212/754-1113,