While I adjust to life back at home, my days are sprinkled with such sweet memories of my family’s 10 months abroad. I must say, I feel proud. Naturally, it would be a travesty to not properly conclude this blog. Our epic chronicles would be left hanging, incongruous with the fact that the trip indeed ended and our lives are once again grounded, basically back to normal. Well, indeed it is a new normal.
The final two weeks of our trip were too enjoyable to sit down and peck away at this damn thing. Frankly, Kota Bharu (Malaysia) was just too outrageously hot and the Perhenthian Islands too strikingly beautiful to stop and write. A better internet connection would have helped too. Our last two nights in Tokyo went by in a blink, as though it truly was a dream.
The result of my temporary abandonment of the blog during our final days is that more than a month quickly transpired, and I now find myself writing from an entirely different perspective than in the midst of traveling. Still, it has to be done. So here begins the final push, my last efforts to somehow portray the concluding weeks of our vast journey. From my cool, quiet kitchen in a lovely town called Boulder, I have nothing left to orchestrate in a far away land. So now it is time to just sit back and remember.
After our month in Penang, we spent a few nights on Malaysia’s opposite coast in a small city called Kota Bharu. We were on our way to the Perhenthian Islands, but it made sense to explore the area a bit since all along we have been into the merits of “slow travel.” We stayed at a Dutch, family owned bungalow-style operation, called Pasir Belanda, which was probably our best option in this fairly untouristed area. The kids loved the yard, with its tire swings and play tractor. Every night, we ate home cooked, traditional meals in the scorching courtyard of the neighbor’s. This kind Muslim family had a great old fashioned swing, a family of gorgeous cats, and loudly honking geese.
Pasir Belanda had a garage full of bikes we could rent, even Merle’s size, so we tooled around one day through the neighboring village roads, over small bridges and past agricultural fields. The few family rides we did on the trip as a whole shine as some of our best memories.
We encountered some of the friendliest locals yet. Predominantly Muslim, the kindness of these folks rivaled the pervasive Burmese benevolence we cherished so dearly.
Throughout that ride, we also got a good taste of Malay traditional kampung (village) architecture. The simple wood frame cottages, featuring decorative trim and brightly painted doors and shutters was right up my alley. The house below is my Malay dream digs (if you just add powerful AC and a lap pool out back.)
Kota Bharu is worth a stop just for the cool market scene downtown. If you are a traditional market lover like me, KB will undoubtedly provide a feast for the senses.
The area is rather poor and less developed than other regions of Malaysia, and hence appeared quite different from Penang with its expat high rises and ornate Chinese temples. The upside to a place bypassed by tourism and development means that the two sprawling markets downtown that have remained unchanged for decades if not hundreds of years. Though a chain supermarket is across the street (the presence of which has directly contributed to the demise of traditional markets all over SE Asia), it’s shiny boxed products and uniform fruits and veggies have yet to sway many local shoppers. I loved seeing the old granny merchants in their chiffon head scarves and bright robes beside their piles of sweets for sale, gently gazing at us and the kids in bewilderment. Mathilda of course made a quick friend with a young girl who sold her bubbles. Watch out for the dripping fish and their guts– that floor was a veritable slip n’ slide!
Pasir Belanda set us up with a morning batik class at a nearby workshop, and surprisingly, this turned out to be one of Merle’s favorite activities of the whole trip. True batik is a painstaking process involving hot wax, mixing dyes and intricate skills that are passed down from generation to generation. I feel lucky we had the chance to learn more about this beautiful handicraft and support their work. The demand for these art forms is definitely dwindling as people opt for factory made clothing, an unfortunate trend worldwide.
Everyone hard at work at their batik fabric painting, all now treasured souvenirs.
In the final weeks as travelers, I definitely appreciated that we got the chance to experience culturally rich Kota Bharu. Our time there, though brief, confirmed why I love to travel: to connect with others and their reality, savor the difference, and simply sit back, absorb and enjoy.