Trishaw ride down memory lane in Malaysia

Trishaw ride down memory lane in Malaysia

By Sean Yoong

MALACCA, Malaysia (AP): On a blazing afternoon here in the narrow streets of Malacca, five aging monks in fading orange robes are chanting in front of the altar at the Cheng Hoon Teng, Malaysia's oldest Buddhist temple.

Dozens of devotees around them are praying in silence. Curious tourists are looking on.

"This reminds me so much of my childhood," whispers my traveling companion, Olivia, an ethnic Chinese who converted from Buddhism to Christianity five years ago. "My grandmother and I came here every weekend to pray for our family, our health, our future."

My memories of growing up in Malacca may be different from Olivia's, but they are no less vivid. This is my hometown, founded at the dawn of the 15th century, colonized by three European countries.

A historical hamlet, Malacca embraces the return of its natives and entrances newcomers with an aura entirely its own.

These days, I live in Kuala Lumpur, the capital of this fast- growing Southeast Asian nation, 150 kilometers (90 miles) north of Malacca. But on a recent sojourn back to my hometown, I invited Olivia, an old friend who still resides here, to join me for a trishaw ride to revisit our roots.

In Malacca, contrary to what Thomas Wolfe said, you can go home again.

"Where do you want to go?" asks trishaw driver Mahmud Ismail, 48, as we hop aboard. "There are so many places I could take you, even a day wouldn't be enough."

Malaysian trishaws resemble the rickshaws that ply other Asian streets, except they have three wheels and are pedaled like a tricycle instead of pulled.

We opt for a two-hour tour for 50 ringgit (US$13), the equivalent of a day's wage for many Malaysians. But, as usual, it's hot and humid, and it doesn't seem fair to haggle with our tall, tanned and painfully thin guide.

Visitors to Malacca often spend whole weekends mingling with the warm, easy-going townsfolk and soaking up their colorful culture.

In colonial days, Malacca was a major business hub where European sailors stopped to trade silk and spices en route from India to China. Mastery over Malacca sparked battle after battle among several powerful European empires.

The Portuguese came first, in 1511, laying waste to Malacca's then-thriving dynasty of Malay sultans. The Dutch took over more than 100 years later, before eventually ceding control to the British, who reigned until Malaysia's independence in 1957.

Now, in the epoch of sonic-speed jets, Malacca is a quaint seaside tourist attraction on the country's west coast. But the legacy of its colonization is firmly imprinted on the faces of its people who amble along busy lanes.

Some of them are direct descendants of the European conquerers who stormed Malacca centuries ago. Countless others, commonly called Eurasians, are products of marriages between their indigenous Malay or Chinese ethnic great-grandparents and bygone colonial lords from the West.

The ethnic Chinese here are largely descendants of people who immigrated in the 19th century to work in the lucrative tin mines here, and in the rest of Malaysia.

Many consider the families a cross-cultural curiosity. At parties, husbands in Western suits stroll arm-in-arm with wives in elegant Chinese gowns.

Their food, ranging from stir-fried salty vegetables to painstakingly marinated sweet meats, includes recipes handed down from mother to daughter.

Despite several sky-high hotels and hip shopping malls, the people are all fiercely protective of their heritage. Many old homes, battle forts and places of worship have weathered the passing of eras and remain part of the town's landscape, drawing thousands of tourists each year to admire their resilience.

In the heat, portions of the town appear baked in pastel colors of peach and crimson, much of it furiously loud and dazzlingly gaudy.

"You can tell by our buildings that Malacca people have always been very religious," Mahmud says, pedaling furiously aside as a BMW overtakes us. "After all, we have Malaysia's oldest temple, church, mosque and who knows what else here!"

Generations of Buddhists in Malacca have thronged the Cheng Hoon Teng, our first stop, since the temple was built in 1646.

Nearby, scores of parishioners gather for Mass every Sunday morning at St. Peter's Church, the country's oldest functioning Roman Catholic church, constructed in 1710.

Muslim Malays, the majority population in Malaysia, flock to the Kampung Hulu Mosque, also the country's oldest, built in 1728.

The design of many of these places of worship is a compelling blend of both Eastern and Western influences. Many mosques, for example, have pagoda-shaped minarets that are strangely styled with subtle Moorish strokes.

After our visit to the Cheng Hoon Teng, our minds still reeling from its magnificent interior carvings of mythological figures, Mahmud takes us to one of the dozens of museums side-by- side in the heart of the town. Our straw-hatted guide recommends the so-called Museum of Enduring Beauty.

Visitors entering the scarlet-painted museum are first assailed by the musty smell of aging artifacts and cobwebs. But those who press on will be rewarded with three floors of genuine treasures, amassed from all corners of not only Malacca, but the entire nation.

"Look at those kites!" exclaims American tourist Rita Simonson, pointing to a showcase of "waus," Malaysia's traditional kites. "They're so beautiful, like nothing I've ever seen before."

The only clunker in the museum is an entire wing dedicated to governors of Malacca, past and present. A huge glass cabinet even displays the golf trophies won by the town's current constitutional ruler.

Seeking a shot of veneration, we head next to Jonker Street, also known by its 19th-century name of First Gentleman's Street. A dozen two-story antique shops are scattered throughout the crowded, clamorous street of traditional Chinese shophouses. One plays a gramophone at full blast to attract customers.

Bargain-hunters take note: Many of the items for sale are dirt cheap. But whether you're looking for ornately crafted teakwood furniture, native fertility dolls, or petite slippers for bound feet, Jonker Street will not disappoint.

Olivia is duped into buying overpriced wind chimes that cost 16 ringgit. "They'll make a great gift for someone," she insists.

We're hungry now, and our two hours have just about expired. "How about some satay?" suggests Mahmud, referring to the Malaysian delicacy of skewered meat served with spicy peanut sauce.

But it's still too hot out, so he walks us to the Chung Wah Coffee Shop. I'm reminded of happy days spent here as a schoolboy, devouring lunch with classmates before rushing to the nearby Capitol cinema for a movie.

The mere sight of the bustling coffee shop still stirs my appetite. "Go, eat," beams Mahmud, as I hand him his well-earned cash. "You had fun today, no?"

As Olivia and I feast on a mountain of finger-licking "chicken rice balls", one of Malacca's best-loved culinary delights, we decide that it had been more than just fun.

In those two short hours, we rediscovered the soul of a town that embodies the best of this proud country's past and the brightest of all its future may hold.

Even after 600 years, Malacca's mystique still will not die.