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.