Profound Devotion: The Festival of Thaipusam in Malaysia

This article from my first visit to Malaysia appeared in The West Australian newspaper in 2009, but never went online: so here it is. I was hosted on that trip by Tourism Malaysia.

The sensual immersion is incredible.

Sight: thousands of devotees walking in procession toward the Batu Caves north of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

Sound: Insistent drumming, mixed with amplified Tamil-language music.

Smell: Smoke from incense and tobacco drifting through the air.

The Batu Caves sit within a rocky outcrop that rises dramatically from the flat land surrounding it. It’s an impressive craggy mass, but more impressive yet is the crowd heading toward it to commemorate the annual Hindu festival of Thaipusam.

I’ve arrived here before dawn to avoid the heavy traffic that will envelop the site once the sun rises; but even at 6am the road that leads to the caves is thronging with people.

Weaving my way slowly through the crowd, I find myself on the path of the pilgrims walking to the shrine located high up within the caves. Past me trickle lines of men and women in orange robes, carrying pots of milk on their heads.

Then men appear bearing huge decorated frames resting on their shoulders - colourful canopies decked out with feathers, tassels and statues of the Hindu god Murugan.

These kavadi are extraordinarily elaborate; one even has a mobile generator connected to lights upon its exterior, being pushed along by a friend of the devotee beneath it.

And Murugan is the focus of this spiritual event, a god particularly revered by Malaysia’s Tamil community. Every year during Thaipusam, they carry milk to his shrine, or bear a decorated kavadi as a greater offering. Some devotees are thanking the god for a past prayer that has been answered; others are hoping for help in the year ahead.

Although Thaipusam originated in India and is still celebrated there, the Batu Caves celebration is one of the most spectacular, with up to a million devotees making the journey up the stairs set into the spectacular mountain that houses the deity’s shrine.

The devotees are watched by tens of thousands of spectators, and there’s a carnival atmosphere among the diverse stalls and tents lining the route, selling everything from spiritual memorabilia to mobile phone plans.

The generosity of the day is also called upon by charities, including a mobile blood donation centre among the stalls.

The most striking act of devotion is the piercing of the skin by skewers, inserted through the tongue or cheeks. Some even have hooks inserted through the skin on their backs, held taut by supporters walking behind them.

The degree of pain represents the worshipper’s devotion to the god, though those with spikes through their flesh are often coaxed into a trance state which lessens the impact of the pain.

It’s intriguing to watch the faces of those in a trance - one man with hooks in his back is rolling his eyes and tongue dreamily as a holy man speaks to him, walking backwards ahead of the devotee. For someone from a completely different cultural background, immersed within the crowd, the sight is overwhelming and fascinating at the same time.

As I’m moving along with the masses, following the generator-lit kavadi and taking photos, I pause next to a group of young men who are dancing to the incessant beat of the music which accompanies the procession. One of them peels away to shake my hand and ask me where I’m from.

“What do you think of all this?” he asks, eyes sparkling, as he bounces on the ground with enthusiasm.

“It’s amazing!” I reply, quite truthfully - I’m feeling unexpectedly awed by the sensory overload. Satisfied, he shakes my hand again and rejoins his friends.

The loud music keeps playing, and as I wait to reinsert myself within the procession, my left foot starts tapping out an involuntary little dance.

My new acquaintance notices this and points it out to a friend, and they both laugh. It’s a good-natured chuckle, in keeping with the joyous mood of the occasion.

Along the way I chat with several more onlookers, and supporters of the devotees. The supporters accompany their friends and family members, and ensure their safety if they should be overcome by their burdens on their way to the shrine.

It’s an inclusive, energetic event, completely lacking the solemnity I associate with Western religions, and people are enthused by the all-encompassing sounds, sights and crowds. There’s something intensely stimulating about the controlled chaos of the procession, a ritualised abandonment of daily routines and inhibitions.

By the time we reach the foot of the 272 steps which lead up to the shrine, dawn is breaking. I peel off, walking past a vast mound of coconuts to find a seat at a refreshment stall.

Sitting with an iced tea, I watch the growing stream of pilgrims move onward and upwards, past the enormous statue of Murugan that towers alongside the steps.

Music is playing loudly, smoke is billowing from a nearby shrine, and a flock of birds is flying across the sky above the crowd.

It’s an invigorating atmosphere: a potent blend of aroma, sound, colour, motion and human vibrancy that reaches deeper than the rational mind, intensely moving in both its passion and the good humour of the crowds which have come to share in it.

Thaipusam takes place upon the full moon in the Tamil month of Thai (January or February each year). Thaipusam will provisionally fall on 21 January in 2019.

Cacao & the Writer: My Chocolate-Coated Travel

In my work as a travel writer, there are recurring themes.

One of them, I realised the other day, is chocolate.

I was writing a chocolate-related travel article for a major publication, in this case related to London. As I typed, a reference to cacao reminded me that I'd seen a cacao pod in person in Borneo, when I'd visited Malaysia in 2009:

This got me thinking about other times that chocolate had featured in my travels.

In 2010, when Narrelle Harris and I were travelling through Hungary, we dropped into the classic Budapest cafe Gerbeaud. My order was a csokoládé kávé, coffee blended with hot chocolate, amaretto and whipped cream. Alongside it was a perfectly formed slice of Sachertorte:

In May last year I was introduced to great Middle Eastern chocolate, not something I'd been expecting after the terrible chocolate we used to endure when living in Egypt in the 1990s. These locally handmade beauties were on sale at the shopfront of Salma's, a chocolatier in Muscat, Oman:

Closer to home, in 2007 I visited Adelaide and went on a tour of Haigh's chocolate factory. This South Australian brand has several outlets in Melbourne, and it's hard to resist its dark chocolate peppermint frogs. This was the factory shop:

In 2012 I travelled to Quebec City, Canada for the first time and was delighted to discover the Érico chocolate shop and museum, whose exhibits including chocolate clothing:

On the other side of Canada in 2013, Narrelle and I visited an excellent chocolate maker and cafe in Gastown, called East Van Roasters:

And while travelling on the South Island of New Zealand in 2011, I stopped with some colleagues for lunch at She Chocolat, a chocolate-making business with a restaurant overlooking beautiful Governors Bay:

So what's the chocolate-related story I'm writing at the moment? Can't tell you... yet. Follow me on social media (see the links in the right-hand column) to find out when it's published.

I will reveal it has a historic context... and this is how it ends up:

Tasty.

Asia Summer Series: Melaka, City of Spice (Part 2)

Over December and January, I've been running a series of my previously published print articles on Asia. Last week I explored the historical remnants of colonial rule in the Malaysian city of Melaka; now it's time to eat...

Lunch is at Restoran Peranakan within Melaka’s Chinatown.

Its interior is a big airy space decked out with lanterns, framed sepia photographs, and large round tables bearing incongruous red-checked tablecloths.

The food is as flavoursome as promised - including spicy red sauces, chilli chicken, and crunchy fish pieces served with vegetables and a sweet and sour sauce.

Other popular Nyonya standards are chicken kapitan, a dry chicken curry, and inchi kabin, a variant of fried chicken.

Given the attractive shop-lined streets of the Chinese quarter, it seems an ideal place for a post-lunch stroll. Turning onto the former Jonker Street, whose Dutch name is still widely used, I pass numerous antique emporiums tucked into small premises.

It’d be easy to spend a few hours here inspecting items and deciding which would look best on the mantelpiece at home, while dickering about the price with the proprietors.

Taking a sharp turn into Jalan Tokong (Temple Street), another narrow curving thoroughfare, I spot the minaret of a mosque up ahead. It’s quite unlike the tapering forms common to its Middle Eastern counterparts, however, looking more like a watchtower with a Chinese-inspired roof.

The call to prayer resounds through the neighbourhood as I step into the nearby Buddhist Xianglin Temple.

It’s an intriguing contrast, listening to the Arabic words as I pass burning joss sticks set in braziers, heading into the temple’s cool interior. An Australian walking into a Buddhist temple in Melaka’s Chinatown while listening to the Muslim call to prayer has to count as multiculturalism personified, I think.

Across the road is the much older Cheng Hoon Teng Temple. Constructed in the 17th century, it’s dedicated to the goddess of mercy Guanyin. There’s a superbly serene atmosphere within, aided by the organic feel of the structure, with its timber ceiling and beams, and the generous use of red and gold in the decor.

My last stop in Melaka is a nod to its first colonial rulers, the Portuguese. Even though they were evicted by the Dutch in 1641, the Portuguese left behind a distinct community of Portuguese-Malay descent, who spoke a unique creole language known as Kristang (from ‘Christian’).

Despite the passing of centuries, Melaka’s Eurasian community has endured, and is centred on Medan Portugis in the city’s east.

When I visit the square on a Saturday afternoon, it’s quiet and nearly empty, but its collection of restaurants and shops are setting up for livelier business later in the evening.

Walking from the square to the waterfront, I stand under a lone palm tree and gaze out over the strait.

I can’t see the island of Sumatra, lying just beyond the horizon.

However, it’s easy to imagine the spice traders of bygone days threading their ships through this body of water, braving pirates and treacherous weather in order to be the first to land their cargoes in far-flung ports.

There’s something attractive about Melaka, I decide, centred on the way it reflects Malaysia’s distinctive blend of cultures, cuisines and languages.

Though it’s a tourism drawcard rather than a spice port today, the city retains the complex flavour of its convoluted history.

Disclosure time: On this trip I travelled courtesy of Malaysia Airlines and Tourism Malaysia.

Asia Summer Series: Melaka, City of Spice (Part 1)

Over December and January, I'm running a series of my previously published print articles on Asia. Next up, the intriguing city of Melaka...

You wouldn’t think that you could run a South-East Asian city as a sort of colonial timeshare, but that’s what happened to the Malaysian city of Melaka (formerly Malacca) for almost five centuries.

Rather neatly, the Portuguese ran the place for about 150 years, followed by the Dutch for about 150 years, then the British. How long did they stay? You guessed it - about 150 years.

Standing outside the ruins of a 16th century Portuguese church on a pleasant hilltop overlooking the Strait of Melaka, you can’t help reflecting on the city’s eventful past.

The strait is, after all, the major reason the Portuguese took the city by force half a millennium ago, in a bid to control the spice trade from Asia to the Western world.

The Portuguese may be long gone, but they’ve left some interesting remnants behind, not least of which is the evocative stonework of St Paul’s.

Though the roof of the church has vanished, the rusty red stones of the wall and floor still remain, making it seem as though the structure was carved directly from the rocky outcrop it stands on.

As I step into its interior and admire the intricately-decorated tombstones propped up against the walls, clusters of visitors wander past me, many of whom are Malaysians exploring their own country’s history.

There’s a languid mood up here on the hill, as visitors relax in the soft humid breeze and stroll through the church interior.

Some bend to inspect the fenced-off area where the remains of Saint Francis Xavier were first laid to rest, before being relocated to Goa in India.

Walking down steep stairs cut into the hillside, I turn a corner to reach the Dutch-era town square.

For some reason the Dutch liked a splash of brick red in their decor, and several distinctively red civic buildings form a harmonious and lively space packed with pleasure seekers.

The laneways around the square are lined by souvenir stalls and vibrantly decorated rickshaws.

People mill around, enjoying a sunny weekend afternoon, chatting with their friends and taking photos of each other with their mobile phones.

What’s most appealing about this scene is its intimate scale; you get the feeling that though Melaka was an important port, it was never a sprawling metropolis.

Between the Stadthuys, the former governor’s residence, Christ Church, and a pillar-like clock tower, there lies a triangular garden of colourful flowers.

In the centre of this I find an elegant tapering fountain dedicated to the memory of Victoria, “a great queen”. It’s an evocative reminder of both the vanished past and the diverse empire that was ruled in her name.

That diversity lives on in Melaka today, personified partly in the Peranakan. This ethnic group descended from Chinese settlers who came to Malaysia centuries ago in the company of a princess who married into the local nobility. Over time, they took up Malay customs while retaining a Chinese identity.

Their food, known as Nyonya cuisine, is also an intriguing cross-cultural mix, and one I’m about to encounter...

[Next: Chicken kapitan, Jonker Street, a cross-culture mosque, and Medan Portugis...]

Disclosure time: On this trip I travelled courtesy of Malaysia Airlines and Tourism Malaysia.

By Kayak Through Borneo

This week's blog post is about one of my most memorable experiences in Asia. 

It's also the introduction to a competition in celebration of my Twitter feed passing 1000 followers. 

The prize is a copy of Lonely Planet's brand new 11th edition of its popular Vietnam guidebook. Read on, then learn how to enter below..

Enter Borneo

It’s a Monday, and I’m experiencing an unconventional afternoon at work. I’m at the front of a two-person kayak courtesy of Tourism Malaysia, paddling and sometimes drifting down the Sarawak Kiri River in Borneo, on my first-ever kayaking foray.

The humidity is relatively low, it’s a hot sunny day, and I’m moving past lush green banks that show no sign of human habitation. If only I could get my balance right, I’d be in paradise.

My Borneo interlude had started on dry land the previous day, when I’d touched down at Kuching, the capital of Sarawak. Sarawak is one of two Malaysian states on the world’s third largest island, and is the least crowded with tourists.

Already today our small group has visited wild orangutans in the forest south of Kuching; now we’re experiencing the aquatic aspect of Borneo’s natural attractions.

Village life

Before taking to the water, we’re shown through a kampung, a traditional village. Here we’re met by Jackson Chan and Ivy Chin of Borneo Trek & Kayak Adventure, a husband and wife team who regularly conduct kayaking trips downriver. As we’re led through the laneways and courtyards that separate the low-rise dwellings, our hosts point out the crops being grown by the locals.

In the sunshine, peppercorns are slowly drying on a mat, and there are trees scattered through the township bearing tropical fruit.

Some, like the soursop, are unknown to me; others, like the cocoa pod, give a new perspective to a familiar item - in this case, chocolate. Outside one building we’re introduced to a palm civet, a cat-sized mammal that vaguely resembles a possum. It’s completely tame, and to our amusement runs up and down members of our group and perches on hats.

Kayak time

But it’s time for the moment I’ve been dreading: getting out on the river. I’m a complete novice on the water, being the kind of traveller who usually hangs around cities investigating art galleries and bars, so there’s tension in the air as we walk down to the sandy shore below the village.

Luckily these are two-person kayaks, and I’ll have the able Ivy behind me as captain of the vessel, to guide us safely over the (admittedly tiny) set of rapids we’ll encounter en route. I’m still concerned about capsizing, but between wobbly moments, as I get the hang of paddling and we cut through the slow-moving water, I’m able to reflect on our surrounds.

They’re very beautiful. Each bank of the river is densely vegetated, and the skyline is punctuated by impressive mountains, the most prominent of which looks like a giant green bell. As the paddling required isn’t that vigorous, there’s time to take the odd shot from my waterproof camera. I’m surprised by just how much water flows in and out of a kayak, and realise why we were advised to not wear shoes.

On the river

Chatting with Ivy, I discover she has grown-up children and is in her fifties, though she looks much younger. Clearly, kayaking every day is good for one’s health. She’s possessed of a great deal of calmness, obviously a good trait to have with a nervous passenger at the front of your boat.

Nearing the end of our hour-long journey, we round a gentle curve and see a large white sandbank with a shade tent set up on it. Beneath it, people are bustling around a table. They’re residents of the next village, putting together a freshly-prepared lunch which is available as an extra on the tour.

At one end they’re laying out barbecued fish wrapped in aluminium foil, next to an extravagant selection of tropical fruit. The soursop, whose bumpy green exterior we’d sighted in the first village, turns out to have a chewy white, sweet interior. More impressive, however, is the dragonfruit, whose soft tasty innards are a lurid violet shade.

Lunch and relief

We lunch while sitting on rocky outcrops located conveniently just above the sand, as if placed there for the purpose.

Gazing out over the water and the greenery above the rocks on the opposite bank, I reflect for a moment on the alternating adrenaline surges and relaxing moments of the day. I didn’t capsize, despite my worse fears, and have to admit that the view from the river’s surface was soothingly attractive.

And most of all, I reflect, it’s not often you spend a Monday afternoon on the water. Or realise that the most important element of the work/life balance is staying afloat.

Competition!

OK, now it's your turn. Tell me about your most memorable travel experience in Asia and you'll be in the running to win a copy of the newly-published Lonely Planet: Vietnam, edition 11 (valued at $39.99 and kindly donated by Lonely Planet). Your entry can be any word length, and by submitting you give me permission to display it on my website indefinitely.

To enter, email me at tim@iwriter.com.au by 29 February 2012, with the story of your most memorable Asian experience. I look forward to hearing from you!

The Unicycle Diaries 6: Kuala Lumpur Snapshots

Was looking through my records and came across this diary scrap from a media trip to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia in early 2009. Add some photos and - bingo! - instant blog post. Hope you enjoy it...

Friday 6 February 2009

- Visit to Thean Hou, a big Taoist temple, decorated with lots of colourful figures for Chinese New year.

- Lunch at Menara KL, allegedly the fourth tallest tower in world, though a little shorter than the Petronas Towers. Revolving restaurant, choice of Malay or Western food. Lots of excellent choices involving curries, roti etc. Also desserts with a twist, like soupy durian and a creme caramel with strips of banana baked on the top.

- Visited the amazing Starlight Gallery mall on Bukit Bintang. Was sceptical at first (not being a keen shopper), but its Feast level was impressive. It's a ritzy type of food hall, borrowing the hawkers' traditions and giving them the five star treatment.

The architecture draws largely on traditional Malay designs but uses unusual perspectives and arrangements to give them a thoroughly modern look. Wandering through Feast, down defined walkways that only reveal the next eatery once you’ve passed the previous one, is like walking through an Aladdin's Cave - dimly lit, cool, full of gleaming treasure.

- Skybar at Traders Hotel, 32nd floor. Spectacular! Has an open roof so the afternoon tropical rain falls through into the swimming area. Along the side are cushioned alcoves right up against the glass windows looking across to the Petronas Towers. Had a swim, then sat in alcove with a very nice martini and a book, occasionally glancing at the view.

- Staff at the hotel have the balance just right - they’re attentive and efficient without ever seeming obsequious. Being among Malaysians makes me feel cheerful, they're generally relaxed and open people. And you can't fault the view...

Tim Richards travelled courtesy of Tourism Malaysia and Malaysia Airlines.

The Unpublished 7: Melaka Melange

Occasionally I'll write a sidebar, a short article that sheds light on the main feature article it accompanies. And occasionally these sidebars get junked by the editor if space is short. 

Such was the fate of this short item accompanying a feature on Melaka, the famous historic spice port of Malaysia.

The sidebar added a bit of history regarding the Peranakan, the distinctive Chinese-Malay ethnic group of Melaka, well known for its distinctive Nyonya cuisine. Now the back story can be told...

It was a match made in heaven. In the mid-15th century, a wedding was arranged between the Sultan of Malacca, Mansur Shah, and Princess Hang Li Po, the great-granddaughter of the Emperor of China.

The marriage was intended to cement friendly ties between the two rulers, but it also had the effect of expanding the diversity of Melaka’s population.

For the princess brought with her some 500 loyal followers, who settled down in the port city and became the forebears of the Peranakan culture which fused Chinese and Malay traditions and exists to this day.

The new Chinese population of Melaka settled on a hill which became known to Malays as Bukit Cina (Chinese Hill). Nowadays it’s the location of the largest Chinese cemetery outside China, containing 12,000 graves set along its slopes, each contained within an elegantly curved low wall.

The hill’s slopes were a favoured place to be buried, as it was thought they maximised the positive effects of feng shui.

The hilly cemetery is open to visitors, who can admire the attractive greenery and the plentiful tombs, some of which date back to the Ming Dynasty.

At the foot of the hill, there are also two other interesting sights: an 18th century Taoist temple, and a 16th century well which supplied the population of Melaka even in times of war.

Legend has it that the well has never dried up, even in droughts. Cast a coin into its depths for similar good fortune. 

Disclosure time... on this trip I travelled courtesy of Malaysia Airlines and Tourism Malaysia.

The Unpublished is a random series of my never-published travel articles. For previous instalments, click on the The Unpublished Topic tag below, then scroll down.

Borneo: Visions and Reality

When I was a kid, I collected stamps for a while. I'd inherited a collection from my mother, and there were stamps in there that went back to the 1930s.

Among them were stamps from a place called Sarawak. I had no idea where in the world it was, but by crikey it sounded exotic.

Sarawak was still around when I was growing up in the 1970s, but by then it had stopped issuing its own stamps. In the 1960s, Sarawak became part of Malaysia. And Sarawak, I later found out, is in the north of Borneo.

And Borneo is where I'm writing this. Even better, I'm in Sarawak; so that stamp collection has come full circle.

There's something alluring about the word 'Borneo' - a suggestion of dense jungles, headhunters, curious animals and hidden mysteries (Kong! Kong!). It's made me ponder how some locations (Easter Island is another) pick up this allure. And about what happens when you finally set foot on the exotic land you've dreamed of.

Common sense would suggest disappointment would follow. After all, what place, no matter how wonderful, can compete with your imagination? No matter how exotic, even the most far-flung locale will have reality TV shows and Coca-Cola, won't it?

Well, yes it will. And in my experience, the reality of a place is often very different from what you idly imagined it to be. However, it's not a case of smashed illusions; more that the illusions fade into nothing and are replaced by a new, vibrant picture of what the place is really like.

With Borneo, I only had an imprecise impression of jungles within a mysterious interior (and yes, some vague thoughts of King Kong - wasn't it set there?).

But yesterday, I saw orangutans swinging through the forest above my head; saw peppercorns drying in the sun at a local village; went kayaking for the first time in my life down the Sarawak Kiri River through mountainous green landscape; and met an amusingly over-the top cat statue dressed up for Chinese New Year in the state capital Kuching (which means 'cat' in Malay).

There was even a traffic jam on the way out of the city - you don't find those in visions of the exotic. But I didn't care. Borneo the hypothetical had been replaced by Borneo the real, and it was infinitely more interesting.

In letting go of your preconceived vision of a place through travelling there, you lose its perfection - but you gain a complex, vibrant reality in its place. I call that a bargain.

Tim Richards travelled courtesy of Tourism Malaysia and Malaysia Airlines.

What Makes a Top Airport?

According to eTurboNews, a survey by the Airports Council International has named the top three airports in the world as:

1. Seoul Incheon, South Korea
2. Kuala Lumpur International Airport, Malaysia
3. Changi Airport, Singapore

The rankings were derived from a survey of 34 service aspects of airports, from check-in to departure, as judged by 200,000 respondents.

The only one of these airports I've experienced personally is Changi, many many times in transit between Australia and Europe.

Although the range of its facilities is impressive, it slipped considerably in my personal ratings last year, due to its annoying new rule that all cabin luggage has to be taken out of a plane in transit.

So, en route from Melbourne to London on the same aircraft, we had to drag everything out into the airport, then go through the laborious metal detector screening etc to get it back on again... even though it had been thoroughly screened in Melbourne.

Not only was this security overkill, but it didn't help the passenger's enjoyment of Changi's facilities, or the profitability of its shops.

When you're hauling around 8 to 10 kilograms of cabin luggage, you can't be bothered to walk too far - so most passengers just left the aircraft, entered the terminal, then stepped straight back into the queue to be rescreened so they could sit into the transit lounge to wait for re-boarding.

On the way back from Europe, my plane transited in the decade-old Hong Kong International Airport, a first for me.

Although the transit area had a slightly muddled, bureaucratic feeling - with dozens of smiling female staff members handing out lapel stickers which had something to do with your flight which was never explained - the airport officials felt relaxed enough to let our cabin luggage stay on board, freeing us up for a bit of a stroll.

And it's a great airport for that, with expansive views through huge plate glass windows, very welcome when you've been cooped up on a plane for 15 hours. And the natural light probably helped the body clock readjust a bit.

So what do you look for in an airport? The quickest way out, perhaps? Or are some actually worth spending time in? What's your favourite aerohaveno, and why?