In Malacca

MALACCA, A Brief History; OR
500 Years in 5 Lines.


In the fourteenth century, Malacca was a sleepy little fishing village, until this guy called Parameshwara was forced out of his Hindu principality in Sumatra. He headed to (what is now) Singapore and after wearing out his welcome there, he took a different tack. Swashbuckling in the straits, our prince, turned pirate king amassed a fortune from plunder. He consolidated his base in Malacca, which became a convenient, and very successful centre of trade on the lucrative China - India - Arabia route. By this time, spices had become indispensable to the European palate and were fetching outrageous prices. Everyone wanted a piece of the action. Indians migrated down, and Chinese moved west to Malacca and Singapore to take advantage of the bonanza. With the Indians came the Islamisation of the region, while the so-called Straits Chinese brought their own traditions too,which fused with the local Malay to become the Baba-Nyonya or Peranakan culture.
The Portuguese had their own ideas about who should control the spice route to Europe. In the early 1500s they swept all aside and occupied Malacca. All that remains of their stronghold there, "A Famosa Fort" is essentially this gateway, the "Porta Santiago", or Gateway of St James and the ruins of St Paul's church.
The Portuguese were control freaks who wanted ALL of the action. Because of their monopolist leanings and their insistence on converting the locals to catholocism, just at a time when Islam's star was on the rise, their position became more and more compromised. Constantly at war with one or another of the regional powers, their level of control deteriorated further and eventually the Dutch took over the area in the mid 1600s. They remained in charge for another 150 years, but never fully exploited Malacca's potential, concentrating more on their interests in Java. Meanwhile the British East India Co. had established itself in Penang. Flushed with the success of the free trade there, the Brits expanded into Singapore and Malacca under the guiding hand of Sir Stamford Raffles. And the rest is......you know.

.................To be continued.


So anyway....
Wandering around Malacca's extensive Chinatown, one encounters streets and streets of these Peranakan houses. Obviously the Straits Chinese subscribed to the "more is more" philosophy of architecture and design. Witness the over the top style of facade decoration. There are multi-coloured stucco columns, glazed tiles, fluted awnings. And lots of heavy ornamentation, often of flora and fauna, some real and some mythological.


Inside, you would find rooms chock a block full of dark and heavy wooden furniture, inlaid with mother of pearl, fabulous carved or painted screens and intricately worked lintels and doorways. Every nook and cranny is painted and decorated.
Naturally there are lots of the requisite photos and portraits of ancestors, for the worship of.






Its a all riot of colours and competing styles, but somehow the fusion works quite beautifully, I think.

All the terrace houses I saw had interior courtyards, front and back Open to the sky, they allow light and ventilation and afford some degree of cooling which is much needed, believe me.
They also allow bucketfuls of tropical rain, so they're set down a step and have large drains for the run off.
Chinatown also has lots of buying oportunities for the tourist, discerning or otherwise. I liked these hand made "bound feet" slippers but couldn't find anything in my size.

And....here it is. The food. This is a typical Nyonya dish, a spicy casserole of chicken and veg cooked in a bean paste.



Here are some snaps from the Festa de San Pedro. Just a shortish walk from the hotel (1 hour of hard slog) is the Portuguese/Malay "Portuguese Settlement". I happened to be in Malacca for the big festa which celebrates the saint's feast day and the blessing of the fishing fleet. Takes place in the "Maidan Portuguese", or town square. Not much happened, but I believe the action hots up after dark. Note the collection of saints and virgins on sale.

Meet Mr Murtabak

Down a lane, right at the noodle shop and like walking through a looking glass I'd suddenly left
Chinatown.

The aroma of spices, boiling ghee and a blocked drain mingled in a familiar way. Yes, I was in Little India. There were sunny smiling faces and happy garlanded gods, too. And incense and trestle tables laden with sweets and fried snacks - everywhere a sense of joyful abundance.


Feeling peckish (when am I not?), I popped into the ...........restaurant. Well, it was as if they'd been waiting for me. Their hospitality was extraordinary. I expressed an interest in the griddle action happening at the front of the restaurant and happily, Mr Murtabak was eager to display his talents, which proved to be ample.

Here's his Murtabak 101 class:



He takes a bit of his curried cabbage and onion mix








and adds a spoon of the curried beef mix.
He tosses in a little egg for binding and mixes well.
Then he fries this mixture for a good ten minutes until firm and cooked through.

Next, the tricky part. These are balls of roti canai dough - a very soft, elastic dough kind of like pizza dough.

He pats one out and brushes ghee all over
Then he repeatedly flings the dough out in a semicircular action, like a fisherman casting a net, until the dough is wafer thin and spread right out over the grill.

He then wraps it up into a little square (see how puffy it is) and rolls it out again repeating the process, thereby achieving a dough of repeated layers of pastry and ghee, something like puff pastry.
Next, the dough is flung out again, the murtabak patty is placed in the centre and he makes a little parcel of the whole thingy and griddles away for another 10 minutes or so until its browned, crispy and flaky. FABULOUS. And only a buck each!
Not done there, he wanted to get started on Tandoori 101, but I was more interested in getting stuck in to my murtabak.












Down the street I came across a sweets shop. Not quite completely stuffed, I resisted the urge to walk on by. Inside, on parade was the usual ensemble cast of delicious milk sweets. I chose a ladoo - a super sweet, golden milky/buttery orb. Meltingly moist, it was excellent.
I also had a raisin candy and took away a packet of masala popped gram (kind of like curried popcorn) Then, I bypassed the Sri Krishna spiritual CD universe, and ducked past the temple and back to the hotel to put the feet up and think about dinner Mmmmm.

"The Pearl of the Orient"

I'm in Penang, the so-called "Pearl of the Orient", formerly under the management of the East India Company and the British Empire. Indeed, there still remains more than a few reminders of the Raj, mainly in the form of Victorian and early twentieth century architecture. Most of this is strung out along the foreshore, from Fort Cornwallis (or what little remains of it) to the E & O hotel. The jewel in the crown is probably the Victoria Memorial Clock tower, at left. ( stubbornly refuses all efforts to rotate)

. Otherwise, there are more than a few large imposing Brit buildings to gawk at. Rather reminded me of Dalhousie Square in Calcutta. but on a much smaller scale.

The majority of the city of Georgetown is, however distinctly and unapologetically Chinese. Arcaded rows of shop-houses stand shoulder to shoulder with restaurants and hotels. Streets and streets of these constitute the vast Chinatown.
This must be what Singapore was like before progress swallowed up most of the architectural history of the Straits Chinese there.

I'm staying at the Eastern and Oriental Hotel (where else?), which enjoys pride of place on the waterfront at the end of Penang street. Built by two Armenians, the Sarkie brothers, in 1884, it has history. These guys went on to open the Raffles hotel in Singapore, but although they had great taste in hotels, they apparently didn't know much about how to turn a buck in the pub business, cause they went broke and the hotel was eventually closed down in the 1930's. The late 1990's saw its restoration to its former glory (almost), although the unkind might say that some elements are just a wee bit cheesy; the pith helmetted doormen, bookcases containing nothing but Kipling and Maugham, imperial band music playing flat out in the restaurant etc., but generally speaking, it's still a venerable old pile. It has it's own character, and its a treat to stay in it. And hey - at less than 1/3 the tarrif of Raffles how bad can it be?

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Nasi Goreng. with a Malaysian twist: Shrimp and chicken fried rice, topped with egg and served with shrimp crackers, pandanus wrapped lemongrass chicken, satay chicken skewers on marinated tofu skins, and chilli shrimp sambal.

Hanging with the Murtabak Girls

I took the monorail to Kampong Baru, stopping off at "Times Square" shopping mall, near Bukit Bintang to buy a new camera. My "old", (actually almost brand new) camera had been stolen from by bag the day before, while travelling cheek by jowel on the very crowded commuter train. Turns out I got dudded again, cause they sold me a demo model as the real deal. At least I got a good discount - haven't quite lost all my haggling skills!

Kampong baru is the old Malay quarter. Lots of wooden houses still remain, (see classic Malay wooden house) although Kuala Lumpur appears to be rapidly overgrowing the suburb. This is normally quite a sleepy part of town, but I happened to arrive on market day (Saturday) and the locals had galvanised themselves into action. Makeshift stalls and hawker stands appeared and cranked into life. There was generally a buzzy feel about the place.

I schlepped around around the place as the call to prayer flooded the streets in a pious chorale which nobody appeared to take any notice of. I took snaps, I poked into this and that, I smiled, I chatted. Everybody was charming. Check out thse kids I literally ran into outside the mosque!

Then I found it...The Murtabak Stall.

Murtabak is fabulous. It's a parcel of fried dough-wrapped spicy meat (beef, chicken) vaguely curry flavoured and scattered with abundant fresh herbs. Mmmmm (again)

The Murtabak ladies were both busy and shy. They had to move fast cause the murtabak was burning. Here's their photo.

Down an alley and around a corner two local lads got off a motor bike, sidled up wordlessly and stood right up there next to me. There was a weird expression on their faces. Was it a sneer? I smiled and walked on and they didn't follow, but I definitely felt that my personal security had been questioned.

It's an interesting fact that travel brings you face to face with your prejudices, for re-examination. It occurred to me that I had thought that because Malaysia is an Islamic country that it would be safe and its citizens law abiding, but within four days of arrival I'd had one camera stolen and been sold a crock for another. I'd also been intimidated by local hoods. On the other hand, I'd expected that since Thais are not Muslim that they would be more friendly, polite and happy. Again this turns out not to be the case for the vast majority. Too early to draw any valid conclusion, but..... interesting.

K.O.'d In K.L.

Well, there they are, the Petronis towers, formerly the tallest towers in the world and now ?th?.
I was actually expecting to be underwhelmed, but they are impressive. This photo in no way does them justice cause it doesn't allow for the multicoloured facade that glints and winks in the sunlight.Close up, they are quite beautiful.










But for me, the real icon of Kuala Lumpur is....Laksa....Mmmmmmm. Chicken, prawns, tofu, egg, veg, nuts in a coconut and tamarind gravy; and at $4 a bowl, you can't go wrong.

The residents of K.L. appear so far to be a generally happy and friendly lot. The three obvious racial distinctions are Malay, Chinese and Indian. This is reflected everywhere in the different ethnic shops, areas and facilities....sari shops, Chinese massage, Malay curry etc. So far everyone appears to get on swimmingly. People smile at each other and move out of each other's way. On the monorail, I saw a young Chinese youth give up his seat for an old malay lady. you don't see that kind of thing very often in Sydney! I'm not sure how far that goes. Descending the crowded and very steep monorail steps behind a Muslim lady in a kebaya (long dress worn under the hijab/scarf) I nearly stood on her hem. What would have happened if I had torn the dress off?! - Death by beheading, I suspect, lol! The Malays are beautiful. Better looking than the Javanese (imho). They have thick black wavy hair, high cheekbones and the women move gracefully in their trad dress.






Went shopping yesterday in Bukit Bintang, which is the mall and restaurant precinct of K.L. It's also where you can get a massage, have a drink, take in a movie or go clubbing. A kind of one stop entertainment hub. Slightly sleazy feel to it (or what may pass for sleazy in pious K.L.) K.O.'d by the heat, I paused for lunch at a corner Halal (not hard to find here) chicken shack, where I tucked into Nasi Lemak, which is: coconut rice, with chicken in a chilli tomato gravy, with the ubiquitous hard boiled egg on the side, and also Bombay duck (deep fried tiny fishes ?whitebait), peanuts, sweet chilli sauce and sliced cucumber. Very good.

Bangkok

I was going to begin this blog with a rant about how inefficient is the gleaming new silver and white terminal at the Bangkok international airport, but everybody talks about that, and I didn't want to begin this trip with a big fat moan. Probably bad karma, as well as being a bore.
So....speaking of karma, I'm sitting by the river, under the shade of a bodhi tree, because of course, this tree and the bodhi leaf are potent symbols of buddhism in this country. Fabulous to be warm! And the humidity isn't too bad. Sometimes you feel you wear it like a slightly damp overcoat (somebody else said that, ? Somerset Maugham?) And there's a faintly sweet, slightly off smell about that makes you know you are in the tropics





The Chao Parya river cuts a swathe through the city of Bangkok. Its a wide, very polluted and somewhat smelly, sepia coloured body of water. But it has energy....lots of it. Its a working river, superhighway, actually. I like to watch the life of that river flow by in a constant parade of barges, cargo vessels, ferries - all manner of craft; the noise of the engines and call of the boatboys interspersed with the cries of strange tropical birds.








But enough of Bangkok. Tomorrow I leave for Kuala lumpur.