As the intrepid wanders the streets of Kuala Lumpur, he will encounter the most astounding spectrum of vistas on display. He might start his meandering on the paved concourse of Kuala Lumpur City Centre, only to drift further astray, to descend deep into the heart and soul of the city that did, after all, grow from the confluence of two muddy rivers.
He will at first be blinded — both literally and figuratively — by the scintillating panelling of glass towers and steel castles, heralding the advent of some Camelotian future. Power resides here, no doubt, influence, and the fervent worshipping of progress. A rat race is being held, quite clearly, business suits and court loafers competing. High tech is manifest, high spirits, well, not so much.
As one ambles further along the roads much travelled, sceneries change swiftly. Street names lose their Anglicised tendencies, towers convert to minarets; steel and glass yield to brick, mortar and wood. Power abdicates in favour of congruity and influence defers to ingenuity. The keen eye of the explorer will take note of the backwards worn windbreaker of any native rider. Such originality, how come no man elsewhere has ever contemplated such recourse?
The battered automobile dejectedly abandoned by the roadside proclaims its ruin with an embranchment protruding from its boot, as if in defiance of the inevitable. Such resourcefulness, how can a puny rubicund triangle on ground level counter this display of derelict?
The resident electrician, poking three naked wires into an outlet with fierce determination, will retain the visitor’s attention. The thrifty wireman, thus, granting his power tool an extended lease of life despite the missing three-pronged plug the device initially possessed. Such gamble, who else would dare to attempt such deed?
The urban nomad will watch in somewhat bewildered surprise as the valiant member of uniformed law enforcement knocks the dangerously speeding Mat Rempit off his moped with one swift swipe of a wooden staff. Such unrivalled simplicity and efficacy, where else would this practice be enforced?
Should the gallant itinerant ever find himself fortunate enough to see beyond gates, fences and closed doors, given the opportunity to enter into the core of some rather low-tech establishment, he’d bear witness to the fact that high-tech might be lacking on the outskirts of the city, high spirits on the other hand, are ubiquitous.
The audacious outsider might embark on what he expects to be an excursion into the ancient and decrepit, and head for the local wet market. He will find no spotless sterility here, no faultless flooring or ambient air conditioning. Instead, he will encounter newspaper-clad fruit, fish “on the rocks”, chicken deceased, but certainly not headless. Mental math prevails at a speed unmatched by any technical device. Such ease and fellowship, where else does the proprietor call the patron sister, and the apprentice refuses a tip to haul one’s plunderage?
Should the avid roamer of Kuala Lumpur’s back streets happen to inspect some unapologetically called Old Folks Home, that institution might actually meet the attending alien’s expectations of dilapidation. Such an establishment possibly smells of the remnants of its inhabitants’ long-lost abilities and memories, medication, toxic cleaning agents and of a good dose of “kareishu” (Japanese for the smell of old men). While the corridors of local retirement homes might smell at times, they also resound of voices, raucous ones and boisterous ones, complaining ones and singing ones; human ones. Paper and lametta tinsel, reminiscent of past festivities or ones soon to reoccur, haphazardly plastered on faded pastel are quite likely to adorn the Malaysian elderly care centre’s walls. Such ready supply of smells of compassion, sounds of good intentions, sights of benevolence and magnanimity. Where in the Western care-giving sphere, largely outsourced to sterile models of effective functionality and so-called ethical nursing, can this charitable kindness still be encountered?
Circling back to where the exploration of the city’s true grit and spirit began, the starving sojourner will, hopefully, forego the temptation of calling in to the dispirited baldness of a fast-food chain. Should he turn away from the marbled appeal of a starred establishment, the famished floater, well-versed in the art of finding the extraordinary by now, will frequent one of Kuala Lumpur’s many front, back or side street restaurants. Sitting on a plastic chair, balancing his oversized beverage on the wet surface of the wobbling table top, he will gladly consume what the resident chef has deemed fitting for this day. Such straightforward hospitality, such easy confidence of pleasing the stranger with one’s best intentions; what fancy guidebook winner can beat that affability?
Back in the dazzling hustle of the city centre, the alert, and possibly exhausted, traveller with have encountered the power of high spirits, the authority of the human condition, the unabated capacity for empathy, that can be found far removed from noise and pretence, self-serving importance and prestigious monetary ambition. He will have encountered low-tech, but high spirits indeed.
Fanny Bucheli-Rotter is a life-long expatriate, a restless traveller, an observer of the human condition, and unapologetically insubordinate