Dear Family and Friends,

I loved what I saw in Kuala Lumpur - the influence of Islam was evident everywhere – and it was goooorrrrrrgeous. Interior diamond-like domes, cut from mirrors by artisans in Iran, vivid colored mosaics, stars, star-shapes everywhere, pointed arches, and heavy stripes, and gold-covered mosque domes with spinnerets. Even the Petronas Towers were designed around an Islamic star pattern and the façade was designed to resemble Islamic motifs. So much love lingers amongst such beauty.










Continuing in my quest for beauty, it seemed to me that a to the well-regarded Islamic Museum in KL was of the highest priority. So after admiring the Towers, I slung my bag across my shoulder, pulled out my map and set out for enlightenment – or understanding – or a nice museum visit.

Astutely, as it turns out, Lonely Planet warns its readers that KL is not really a pedestrian city – which frankly I hadn't seen up to that point as there seemed plenty of well-swept brick sidewalks. And the best way to explore a city is to walk, yes? I had just mentally declared LP wrong when I discovered that, well, that KL is really not a pedestrian friendly city.

Well-armed with a map and the sighting of distant spires of the National Mosque, it should’ve been easy locate the Islamic Museum. I gamely, then determinedly, then grumpily, then stubbornly skirted freeways, discovered the lack of bridges over a river, crossed a 6 lane road, accidentally found myself in a construction site, and discovered the city’s gorgeous old train station. Incredulous and very sweaty, I found myself next to the blue-roofed National Mosque, rounded a bend and finally arrived at my intended destination. I mopped my brow (truly, mopped) as the glass doors parted for me to enter.

The museum doesn’t allow cameras and doesn’t sell pictures of itself – a pity – because the building itself is a postmodern beauty with famous turquoise domes, cobalt-tiled fountains, marble hallways and an inverted plaster patterned dome dripping a crystal chandelier. The exhibits were well-selected, well-spaced and showed a variety of artifacts from all over the world, including Islam in Southeast Asia, China, India, Iran, and the Middle East. There were Qur’ans and manuscripts, textiles, wood carving, coins, metalwork, and jewelry. And of course, the gift shop was exquisite. How much I learned is hard to gage, but I enjoyed myself tremendously.

However, once I was cooled and done with the museum, I remained in the middle of no where. I did find a cab and asked the driver to take me back to my guesthouse but he demanded the address and wouldn’t agree to turn on the meter. So I didn’t agree to ride with him. Out came my map and my determination to find a more efficient way to the Monorail. I bought two bottles of iced water from a street vendor, skirted the National Mosque, photographed what I thought was the Malaysian Parliament Building, walked a bit further and fell headlong in love with the Sultan Abdul Samad Building.

Built by the Brits for the government when the ruled Malaysia, the Sultan Abdul Samad Building is the crown jewel in the “Dataran Merdeka” (meaning Independence Square), where in 1957, the Union Jack was lowered and for the first time the Malaysian flag was raised. In fact, on August 31, 2007, a few weeks after my visit, the Prime Minister of Malaysia would stand in the Square and shout, “Merdaka!” (“Independence!”) in order to celebrate Malaysia’s 50th birthday.



But at the moment I visited, I was so struck with the Sultan Abdul Samad Building (for corn’s sake, even a building of this beauty deserves a nickname!) that I ignored the gathering black thunderclouds and paced the square attempting to take the perfect picture of the place. In fact, rain turned from drizzle to downpour and lightening cracked while I kept snapping photos, ducking under brick arches and not minding my soaked hair. I ended enjoying every brick and arch on that building while failing to take decent picture of the place. *sigh* Oh, well.

Anyway, the thunderstorm grew in fury, which drove me to take refuge in, you guessed it, another dinner of Indian food. In fact, next stop: KL’s Little India.

Love,
Laura

Dear Friends and Family,

Pop quiz!!! Quick – where in the world is Kuala Lumpur?



Hint: it is in Asia.



Second Hint: it is the capital city of Malaysia.



Third Hint: …oh, never mind.

Kuala Lumpur (sometimes referred to as “KL”) is on the bottom quadrant, left side of this map from the US State Department:

I’ll be honest: before I bought my plane tickets to Kuala Lumpur, I’m not certain that I myself could’ve found KL on a map of Asia – and if Malaysia’s oil giant hadn’t built the “Petronas Towers,” odds are that to this day I would not have noticed KL.

Admittedly, this is a sad commentary on my geography skills. But this ignorance is also, I believe, a function of a discovery that I made while visiting Malaysia: in spite of the fact that Malaysia is an almost idyllic travel destination, people from the United States do not visit. I suspect that this is because collectively we know little about Malaysia – and what we think we know is wrong. As Asian travel destinations go, we Americans have finally cottoned on to Thailand, Bali, Vietnam, China, Japan, Cambodia, Singapore, and even Korea – but we manage to overlook Malaysia. Why?

Well, Malaysia is a predominantly Islamic country and while I cannot speak for the decades before now, I can realistically say that Americans won’t be rushing to visit Malaysia now. Which is actually a pity – because I truly enjoyed my visit in spite of the fact that I selected Malaysia as a holiday destination for the shallowest of reasons: (1) I needed a real vacation – affordability and a beach were a must, (2) I really wanted to see the Petronas Towers, (3) Korean Air was offering cheapish tickets to KL, and (4) did I mention that I needed a vacation? It is hard to get shallower than that.

And even after I purchased my ticket a mere two weeks before my departure date, I wasn’t excited. While packing, I wasn’t excited. While the rain pounded on the window of my train bound for Seoul Station, I could barely rouse myself to watch the passing countryside, let alone view it with interest. But excitement finally snuck up on me in the guise of impatience as I was peering out the 737 window at Incheon Airport. The weather was drizzly, muggy, gray, acutely gray, as dusk was turning the concrete airport into a pewter-colored mirror which created the illusion of doubling the appearance of everything from the number of airplanes to the red lights brightly blinking on the tarmac. Once our plane had filled, the doors were shut, and we were taxing for take off without actually going anywhere when I began to imagine myself tipping my head back and yelling, “would we go faster if I got out to push the plane?” Apparently I was ready – nee impatient - to go to Kuala Lumpur.

Reminiscent of my arrival in Bangkok over a year earlier, I arrived late at night into weighted darkness, grabbed some money from an ATM, found myself an airport taxi and was driven to my guest house.

What was not reminiscent of my arrival in Bangkok is that somewhere over Vietnam… or perhaps over Thailand… a full-blown cold had clogged my ears and while landing, my ear drums felt on the verge of exploding. Later in the back of an old taxi, the air conditioner wheezed and spit while the taxi driver kept directing questions at me via the windshield which arrived at my stuffed ears garbled. At first I did my best to answer – but his accent was unfamiliar and my ears ached and I eventually gave up and the driver also became quiet, while the air con continued to whine and radio Bollywood music was cranked up. I spent the drive twisted to the window, attempted to discern shadowed palm trees from the night air. After about forty-five interminable minutes of driving, we rounded a gentle corner and in the distance appeared two points of light that had to be the Petronas Towers… plus another tower that I was certain was the KL Tower. Some minutes later, my cab pulled to the side of a street shadowed by colonial style buildings that had been converted to guesthouses and restaurants. I had arrived in Kuala Lumpur.



Don’t ask me why – but my guesthouse was named Eight – a funky place, lovely and clean to the point that I mostly forgave Eight’s web site for calling the dormitory showers a “shared bathroom.” Now I know – and I am happy to share with you – that the phrase “shared bathroom” translates into “bring a bathrobe.” Keep this in mind. However, while I was displeased with the bathrooms, I immediately loved my large, crisp double bed, painted red walls, tall windows and a kindred modern ambience – for half the price one would pay for a Motel 6 in the middle of Eastern Washington. I dropped my backpack and spent about 30 seconds being pleased with my circumstances before I fell diagonally on the bed, asleep.

After fruit, toast, a hefty dose of Sudafed, and a decent cuppa of coffee, I set out to do the first thing I always seem to do in a new city: I put myself at the mercy of the mass transportation system. And, after following my favorite ritual of going the wrong direction, doubling back, getting off at the wrong station and deciding to walk the rest of the way, I was set for a day of exploration. Despite my personal navigational difficulties (I blame the Sudafed), Kuala Lumpur has much to offer the tourist just off the plane from Korea. My first stop was the communications/tourist tower in which one can examine the city sites from on high and surrounded by a “virgin” jungle forest with voracious mosquitoes, only slightly less voracious workers that cannot wait to talk to a girl by herself, and begging monkeys.



After the Tower and further exploration, I decided that KL was very interesting - but that it was time for for a break at my next must-do-destination. Borders Books followed by GOOD Indian food. Living in Korea has taken a toll.

You might be surprised to read that the Indian food in Kuala Lumpur was heavenly - and you might ask: are there Indians in Malaysia? Well, yes, as a matter of fact there are. In fact, the million and a half or so population of Kuala Lumpur is refreshingly diverse: while the majority are, as you might expect, Malay (~60%), about a quarter of the population is composed of ethnic Chinese, some 10% of the population is Indian and about 5% is Indonesian. Be a mite skeptical of those numbers – I couldn’t verify them – but feel free to take my point: there are a lot of different people in KL – and their mere variety was wonderful.

Anyway, back to naan and Borders. I’m afraid that a byproduct of my time in Korea has been that the moment I leave Korea, I gravitate towards amenities that Korea does not offer – and Korea, bless it, does not harbor a lot of the expected multi-national corporations proffering western treats. Although in saying that, I must rush to assure you all that Korea is lovely in its own way and it is not that I do not respect Korea’s detachment from Western companies. I do. But I sorely miss a variety things that I used to enjoy to the point of taking them for granted: a variety of food, understanding what is going on around with the people around me, having some semblance of a schedule that I can plan with and follow, people of different colors and shapes and dress (not that Koreans are uniform – just not dissimilar in the ways I’m accustomed to), and the ability to read labels - amongst other amenities. (I have been known – on multiple occasions – to buy fabric softener instead of liquid detergent, drink alcohol instead of bottled water, etc.). Anyway, living in Korea has taught me to find the highest pleasure in reading toothpaste labels or eating non-deep fried naan (deep frying naan, as happens in downtown Daegu, utterly misses the point of bread.) Also, I now find the highest pleasure in places that before I regarded with no small amount of intellectual distain – places like Borders Books.

Entering Borders Books was like walking into a heavenly home. At that moment in Borders, I couldn’t decide if I had walked in heaven or if I felt like I had come home – so I’ll use both descriptives. Well, it had been over a year since I have been to an English speaking book store!!! Ever-prone to loosing myself in a book store, I wandered through the two-story Borders Books, running my hands over the books, enjoying the space to breath (my bookstore in Daegu is always crammed), and marveling that I could read every title. I spent the longest period searching for sorely-needed trashy reading (magazines and trashy reading - more on the list of sorely missed) and debating whether I could afford the hundred or so other books that I wanted to take with me. In the end, I restrained myself to a single trashy romance and trooped back to the guesthouse, stopping for the afore-mentioned Indian food on the way. After scads of nose blowing, more Sudafed, a bit of vacant staring at my red walls, and vicariously meeting a handsome Italian man, I sleepily already felt a sorry that I hadn’t taken in more of KL – but then I closed my eyes.

My head was marginally less stuffy the next morning – not that it mattered – because that Wednesday was the only day that I could visit the Petronas Towers and it would’ve taken a lot to stop me, should anyone have cared to try. Visiting the Petronas Towers is easy – once the tallest buildings in the world, they continue to be easy to spot from anywhere in KL. Entry to the 40th floor observation deck is free however you must queue early in the morning with about a thousand other people to wait for an admittance ticket. I arrived 30 minutes before the first ticket was dispensed and spent the subsequent hour and a half in line. Watching people was fascinating: there were few English speakers, more than a few Caucasians (Slavic or Germanic Europeans, I imagined), and many Muslims, who were easy to spot mainly because the women had their heads covered either by brightly colored, modestly draped veils or, startlingly, by black veils that left only the eyes visible, or shockingly, veils which covered the entire face but retained a measure of transparence in order for the wearer to not to hurt herself. Interestingly, the two ladies with their entire faces covered were accompanied by two men in tasteless tattered shorts and sleeveless shirts. I wasn’t and continue to be unsure how to view “the veil” of Islam but I felt justified in silently scorning their male companions for blatant hypocrisy.

Standing in that line, trying not to openly stare at the completely veiled ladies, it occurred to me to wonder what the Muslim men think about me, Western and blatantly unveiled. I continue to wonder about this.

Anyway, after escaping the line clutching a 12:45 pm ticket, I had plenty of time for Starbucks at the posh, posh mall attached to the Petronas Towers and for a walk, eyes wide open, ears perked, senses open. Returning for my tower viewing time, I submitted my handbag to metal detectors, made acquaintance with a newly wed couple (fascinating: him raised in Britain, her an American, them living in Dubai, her veiled), and mentally poked fun at the 10 minute propaganda movie about the virtues of the Petronas Oil Corporation. A group of about 20 was then loaded into what seemed to be a freight elevator and escorted to the 40th floor bridge that joins that two towers and let loose to marvel and photograph. I was and remained blasé about the 40th floor view – but I loved craning my head in an attempt to see the very tips of the Towers and conducted a thorough examination of the ribbons of steel that wrap the Towers, generally noting as many other architectural details that my untrained eye could detect. And the guide noticed and fed my interest, telling me about the Japanese and Korean construction companies that had simultaneously built the Towers. In just the right amount of time, the guide returned us to the ground and let us loose in the posh mall – I almost cried at the sight of a Gap (it has been 14 months!) and then went to find myself a place of better quality edification.

More soon – truly. --L