Welcome to the West

Although the Kuala Lumpur airport is surrounded by familiar-looking palm trees, riding into the city felt like no longer being in Asia. There was a highway with more than two lanes. There were many cars and almost no motorbikes. People were driving faster than 40km/hr, sometimes even over 100km/hr. There were on-ramps and overpasses and suburbs with row after row of the same house. There were skyscrapers. The only funny thing was that people here drive on the left side of the road.

I am lucky enough to have Marta, a friend/former boss who has been living in KL for the last few years, offer me her house as a home base, with the bonus of the services of her driver, who came to get me at the airport. I asked him about the palms, and learned more than I knew there was to know about palm oil, Malaysia's biggest product. KL started as a tin mining town, shifted to rubber tree plantations when the British came, and is now dedicated to the low-effort high-yield crop of palm oil. Francis, the driver, taught me about how the oil is extracted from the fruit, how more expensive oil is extracted from the kernel, and how gases emitted by decomposing detritus are used to power turbines and generate electricity. Francis seems to know everything and, much like Trang, seems to enjoy regaling me -- a happy and inquisitive listener -- with everything he knows. Hearing him tell me exact figures that I have since forgotten, I thought back to the times that people in Vietnam asked me questions whose answers I found it absurd to be expected to know, and I thought if Francis knows this much about his country, why don't I? I do suddenly seem to know a respectable amount about rice in Vietnam and regional agricultural specialties, so I was able to offer him some information in kind.

On my first day I didn't do much other than relax and drape myself over the many cushy surfaces that I have not had access to over the last year, by which I mean a couch and a soft bed. After dinner with Marta and her husband (pesto pasta and buffalo mozzarella salad, continuing western overload) I went out to meet Melissa, another ETA who is traveling before going home. Unfortunately, this was the only day the two of us will be in the same place. I met her and her couch surfing host at a Starbucks (overload continued, continued). Even though we'd both only been traveling for about a week, we still had a fair amount of stories and advice to share.

Yesterday, Wednesday, I had a lazy morning and a cultural but relaxed afternoon. With Marta's high recommendation, I went to the Islamic Art Museum. My knowledge of Islam is low, but my appreciation for its aesthetics is high, so I really enjoyed the museum. The first hall was full of architectural models of mosques from around the world, organized geographically and chronologically, to show the many different periods and styles of Islamic architecture. If I had read everything I would have spent the whole afternoon just looking at that exhibit, so I had to exercise some control, but it was fascinating. This set the tone for the whole museum, which made a point of representing the broad international scope of Islam.

Dome of the Rock from Jerusalem

Map showing different Islamic architectural styles from around the world

Other halls were dedicated to illuminated manuscripts, glasswork, ceramics, textiles, coins, weaponry, woodwork, jewelry, and more. There were also exhibits about Islam in Malaysia, India, and China, specifically. I found the exhibit on China particularly interesting. First, because I'd never really even thought about Islam in China. In many ways, China in particular seemed to integrate Islamic ideas and aesthetic into pre-existing alternatives. For example, Chinese mosques tended to be repurposed pagodas with the same eaved roofs one would expect in China, but with an entrance facing East. Chinese Arabic calligraphy was striking. Arabic was traditionally written with a reed, which creates sharp, solid lines. The Chinese wrote it with brushes, creating fluid textural lines. Arabic calligraphy lends itself to flourishes and artistry, and the Chinese took this and used Arabic calligraphy to form depictions of lotuses in a vase or a platter of peaches.

Illuminated quran

Chinese Arabic calligraphic painting

After a few hours at the museum, I went across the street to the National Mosque. It was built shortly after Malaysia gained independence, and because they wanted it to be finished quickly, planners eschewed the traditional domes and opted for umbrella shapes. The largest covers the area of worship; a partly-opened one covers the mausoleum for past prime ministers of Malaysia, and a closed one forms the pinnacle of the turret from which the call to prayer is issued. I didn't expect to spend much time there, but when I approached the area from which non-Muslims could view the place of worship, a volunteer came up to me and began talking my ear off. It was proselytize-y but informative, so I stayed. Also, I couldn't figure out how to excuse myself. He talked and talked and talked and I learned a lot. Rooms in local hotels have an arrow on the ceiling pointing in the direction of Mecca. Eventually he absorbed a pair of guys from New Jersey and a pair of girls from Korea. He took us upstairs to the women's gallery at my request thanks to Marta's suggestion, and then took us into the outreach office for tea and snacks. At this point the mosque was technically closed for visitors, but he seemed keen on keeping his audience. In the midst of this I discovered that the two guys were planning on going to Vietnam for a few weeks but had little knowledge and no plans. When we finally left the mosque we went across the street for juice and I regaled them with probably too much information about their options.

The mosque's three umbrellas, as seen from the top of the museum

The main prayer hall

Extended outdoor prayer area

Today I used one of Marta's guidebooks to take a walking tour of the colonial district and Little India. I don't know what I was expecting, but even though it was interesting it just didn't capture me. The colonial district is around Merdeka Square, which is where Malaysia announced its independence from Britain by lowering the British flag (from one of the tallest flagpoles in the world). Now the flagpole waves the Malaysian flag and around it are various architectural points of interest designed by British architects in the Mughal style. I happened to find a tiny gallery with a history of Kuala Lumpur and more background information on all of the notable buildings, which I appreciated.

The Malaysian flag

Two domes of the Sultan Abdul Samad building, plus an octopus

From there I went into an Anglican church and a mosque, where someone guessed that I might be Kazakh. Little India was not super exciting, and once I had eaten I felt like I didn't have much else to do there. I went into a giant fabric store where several salespeople seemed to think I was Malay, and a few department stores whose powerful air conditioning lured me in. 

Storefront in Little India

Tudungs (head coverings) were for sale everywhere

Marta and her husband Allan took me out to dinner and I decided to indulge my curiosity and ordered a naan pizza. I knew from my time in Asia that whatever would come would probably not actually resemble a pizza, but I never could have expected what came: naan with chicken and golden raisins inside, topped with equal parts mayonnaise and ketchup. Another thing I've learned from living here is how to eat things that I wouldn't normally feel inclined to eat, but Allan decreed it inedible and insisted that I order something else.

Next stop: Penang, Malaysia.