September in Malaysia
In 1994, an American friend named Harriet and I visited Malaysia together. Here are some observations of my friend, and Malaysia, as described in my book, Memoirs of a Middle-aged Hummingbird, published in 2006.
Sept. 17, 1994
“I didn’t quite understand what you meant when you said we’d be living in our sweat,” Harriet said after another sweltering day in Asia. This trip has been hard for her, especially since she’s used to the American mid-west’s mild summers and cold winters. But she has been a willing traveling companion. I was surprised at how many pictures she took of just about everything. She explained that she doesn’t retain a visual memory of people or places when she travels. Instead, her memories are sensual ones encompassing the “feeling” of the experience. I, on the other hand, hold visual details that I can re-play in my mind’s eye.
Now that Harriet has flown home, I’m alone in Malaysia for a few more days. As hot and uncomfortable as it was for her, I was very glad to be able to share my world with her. Before coming to Malaysia, we celebrated the Jewish New Year with Russell’s family in the Chinese countryside, eating apples and honey for a sweet year. The children played a Jewish game she taught them, while I danced a Jewish dance with Russell’s mom.
Harriet found the constant gray skies of Hangzhou depressing. I understood because I, too, long for the blue skies of California when I’m in China. Even Macau, not so polluted and surrounded by sea, rarely has deep blue skies. My American and Australian students in Macau high school used to say that the sky was too close and felt like it was smothering them.
Harriet and I had a very good time visiting my Chinese friends living temporarily in Malaysia. They took us to the picturesque mountains of Cameron Highlands where we got happily lost on the small roads in the hills among the tea farms. I had never been in a butterfly farm before and my camera went crazy with all the close-ups possible of multicolored butterflies. Eating a succulent steamed crab while looking out upon the Strait of Malacca and imagining all the trade that has passed through there was another memorable day together.
Harriet and I wandered together among the friendly, colorful people and flowers of Kuala Lumpur. In an extensive museum ringed by jungle vegetation, we learned more about the Malay, Indian, Chinese mixture of people that makes up largely Moslem Malaysia. One display that caught my eye was an “amok catcher,” a tool for holding and restraining someone who was running amok. But the permanent haze of pollution blanketing the city, and the smell of clove cigarettes wherever men gathered told me that I would not like to live here.
To be continued…
Tags: Malaysia; butterflies; Kuala Lumpur; running amok, Travel
