First time in KL

By Lawrence Casiraya
INQUIRER.net

I REALIZED how high that “thing” was when it became quite a pain the neck — literally.

I can’t say I didn’t have a clue what lay ahead of me during a trip to Kuala Lumpur a few months ago; interestingly, it was my first time in the Malaysian capital, covering a Yahoo! event.

KL is home to the mighty Petronas Twin Towers, and to remind first-timers they won’t miss it is probably best said with a hint of sarcasm. This truth was magnified further — perhaps, literally as well — because I stayed at the Mandarin Oriental, located right beside Petronas, affording me a great view from my hotel room.

I was told they allow visitors to go to the bridge connecting the two towers.

(Remember that heist movie starring Sean Connery and Catherine Zeta-Jones? Yes, loads of cliffhanger shots in there). But I was duly forewarned that I have to be in line as early as 7 in the morning, wait for an hour or so before finally getting a lift.

It was an overnight trip and it would’ve been a stretch in time for my afternoon flight the next day. Plus, I hate missing breakfast on trips so that sealed it. Maybe, I’ll make time for it on my next trip.

The view from my hotel room was fantastic. But outside, it was beginning to haunt me. Walking on the street, I was taking quick glances at those towers. While inside a restaurant having dinner, I found myself lifting my head from time to time looking through clear glass windows. It was begging to be looked at, urging you to go click and take a picture.

Later that morning, while killing some time before checkout, I was lying on the floor looking at it from my window. It was then that I thought of George Orwell’s classic novel 1984. Petronas gives a profound meaning to Big Brother, more than the reality show. That thing out there has a life of its own.

KL on a stick

A Malaysian journalist named Catherine was kind enough to show us a glimpse of the nightlife in KL. After walking around, my first impression of the city was that in some ways it is similar to Singapore — clean, orderly, excellent infrastructure, characteristics of a bustling city.

However, I didn’t find it as cosmopolitan as Singapore. Or maybe, that’s because I was only there for a few hours.

We ended up in a bar whose name escapes me up to now but is probably named Coco Hut or something, one of those places that would belong to a scene like our own Boracay island. And the crowd looks not too different — throngs of white people mingling with, uhm, local bar girls.

I knew about Malaysia’s reputation for having the best street food — in Singapore, they call them hawker stalls or food stalls that literally serve food outdoors. Also, almost synonymous to our own turo-turo (literally “point-point” because you point at the food–Ed.).

We passed by one but apparently things don’t start cooking until 10 in the evening. So after some mingling inside the bar, me and Jing, a fellow journalist and editor for the Manila Times, sneaked our way out and headed for a nearby food stall.

People familiar with isaw or your ordinary barbecue whatever (pig’s ears, chicken innards, etc.) should find the Malaysian version quite interesting.

For one, it has more variety. For one Malaysian ringgit each (equivalent to a little over P13), you choose squid, crab sticks, several shapes of tofu, even more several shapes of fish and even a leafy kind of vegetable they managed to sear with a barbecue stick as well — all laid out neatly on banana leaves.

The most interesting variation, however, is that the food isn’t fried but rather dunked in boiling water until cooked. People like me who prefer their barbecue a bit on the charred, well-grilled side would find it rather strange at first.

The sauces used for dipping, however, make up for it. You have a choice between the sweet satay peanut sauce, chili sauce and a sweet-spicy combo. Afterwards, you wash it down with a drink that’s sort of similar to our own sago’t gulaman, only there’s really no jelly, rather bland, without the sweetness I expected. At this point, I longed for some Coke.

NOT totally lost in translation

Having watched the movie “Babel” recently before I went to KL, the message I got from the excellent movie (it won Best Picture at the Golden Globes but lost to “The Departed” in the Oscars… boo-hoo) was that people, regardless of race or nationality, mean the same thing even when we speak different languages.

It was a lingering thought for me once I stepped into the airport and all throughout the airport. Hearing the Malaysian journalists talk among themselves during the Yahoo! briefing, it was a struggle to even keep up with the words they were saying.

But I saw these signs at the airport and I realized: Hey, aren’t we Filipinos part of the Malay race? Aside from Tagalog, I speak Kapampangan as my local dialect, and some words I found very familiar.

Consider the following examples: keluar in Malaysian means “exit,” in Kapampangan kelual means “outside;” the signboard says pintu translates to “gates,” pinto in Tagalog means “door” (pintu masuk translates to “boarding door;” pasok in Tagalog means “to enter”).

Or salin lampin the sign translates to “nappy change;” in Tagalog, it has the exact literal meaning. Air Minuman translates to “drinking water;” we Filipinos mean we’re thirsty if we say inom. But probably the one I like best is this sign above a toy store that says butik kana-kanak; in Tagalog, anak means child, butik then should refer to the English word “boutique.”

So, even if I can barely understand what Malaysians are talking about, at least I won’t be totally lost at the airport.

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