My Malaysian Meanderings – Day 3: Kuala Lumpur

I dedicated my last day in Malaysia to exploring its capital. Kuala Lumpur is a relatively young city, having arisen from a tin-mining settlement in the nineteenth century. The period brought about an enormous demand for tin: it was used to make household items, line tea chests, and fuel the industrial revolution in the Western World. To harness the production of this valuable material, the local Raja invited Chinese miners and engaged Chinese businessmen in support of the venture, succeeding in expanding the town despite rampant malaria and other tropical ailments. Disputes over the flourishing industry led to the outbreak of the Selangor Civil War (also known as the Klang War) between 1867 and 1874, which saw Kuala Lumpur burned to the ground and decimated by an outbreak of cholera.

The first place I visited in the morning was the Asy-Syakirin Mosque, a futuristic building right at the base of Petronas Towers. Finding my way inside was not easy, as the entire area seemed to be undergoing extensive renovation, which obstructed the impressive view of the towers from the mosque’s square. After crossing the Kuala Lumpur City Centre Park, I had a Grab taxi pick me up and take me closer to the historic centre: I left it in front of the Sultan Abdul Samad Building on Merdeka Square. Built in 1897 by the British, it housed several high courts in the first few decades after Malaysia achieved independence.

Just across the river from the building stands Jamek Mosque, one of the oldest mosques in Kuala Lumpur. Located at the confluence of the Gombak and Klang rivers, the mosque was built by a British architect in the orientalist Indo-Saracenic style, helping to bring foreign Mughal architectural influences to Southeast Asia. In Kuala Lumpur, visiting important mosques does not require the accompaniment of a tour guide, but visitors do have to fill in an electronic registration form to be let in. Women without head coverings are given long and unflattering habits, while men wearing short trousers are required to wear sarongs (or, in the absence of sarongs, to wear these habits as well).

After my visit to Jamek Mosque, I made a leisurely walk through Kuala Lumpur’s Chinatown, stopping by the Sin Sze Si Ya Temple, the Sri Maha Mariamman Temple, and the Chan She Shu Yuen Clan Ancestral Hall (which despite its small size has the audacity to ask for an entrance fee of five ringgit). I had intended to cross the river to the Nearby National Mosque of Malaysia, but much to my dismay, I found there was no way for a pedestrian to do that without getting run over. Grumbling something about wasteful car-centric economies, I called myself another Grab taxi, which took me on a long loop around the city centre to make a journey that should have only been half a kilometre.

The National Mosque is a modern, lofty building with refreshing water features and plenty natural light. One of the custodians told me that the forest of slender white pillars to its side is meant to evoke Malaysia’s palm trees, but I have my doubts about that idea considering how frequently this feature seems to be used. The most interesting part of the mosque is the adjoining Heroes’ Mausoleum, which houses the graves of some of the country’s most important statesmen. Its angular white roof resembles a flower with seven folds, and indeed, the centre of the ceiling is yellow like the centre of a plumeria. I believe this detail has special symbolism, as the plumeria blossom is used in Malay poetry to evoke death.

From the National Mosque, I took yet another Grab taxi to the Thean Hou Temple, a modern but traditionally built place of worship dedicated to the goddess Mazu. The six tiers of the temple are quite impressive, but the decorations within the shrines themselves did not strike me as particularly extraordinary. Its strings of lanterns do make for a picturesque scene, and the recordings of Buddhist chants try to create a devotional atmosphere, but my sense of the place was that it was more popular with tourists than with local worshippers.

I had originally intended to take a car to the nearest metro station and ride all the way to Putrajaya, but I misread the map and convinced myself that the sole line to stop in Putrajaya was the distant yellow line. Only later did I learn that although the yellow line is the only metro leading to Putrajaya, there is a frequent train that connects the city to Kuala Lumpur. Ignorant of this, however, I fell back on Grab once more, ordering a ride all the way to Putrajaya’s central square (named, somewhat unimaginatively, Putra Square).

Since 1999, Putrajaya has been the seat of Malaysia’s federal government, and it has hosted the judiciary since 2003. The official justification for this megalomaniacal project is congestion in Kuala Lumpur, but I cannot help being reminded of Egypt’s New Administrative Capital, whose sole purpose is to isolate the government from the rest of the populace. Indeed, there is something uncanny about the quiet and green suburban landscape of Putrajaya, which promises a luscious and lavish lifestyle to the ruling classes and administration no matter what is going on in the rest of the country.

Putrajaya’s main attraction is the pink Putra Mosque, which juts into the placid Putrajaya Lake. Upon joining the queue to go inside, I overheard a Chinese tour guide telling his group that the winding line was only for people who needed to put on extra garments. When he was done explaining, I briefly turned to him, and receiving his confirmation that my long trousers were all I needed to skip the queue, I proceeded to do so. Needless to say, I felt very smug.

The last point on my itinerary was to find a good view of Putra Mosque from outside. I figured I could find this perspective from one of the bridges or across the water, so I set off on what became perhaps a forty-minute walk to the other side. While not always clearly marked, the pedestrian paths undeniably existed, though I suspected I was the only tourist to have walked the paved side of the bridge in a very long time. Cars are the favoured mode of transport in Putrajaya, and not even the roofed lookout points on the Perdana Barat Bridge are enough to entice people to walk on foot. Once I had spent enough time on the shady banks of the other side, I called an Uber to the airport, from where I left back for Bangkok at nine in the evening.