Malaysia Travel - Kota Bharu and Kelantan

Bursting with color and flavor

The Malay woman grins at my exclamation of amazement. Her several chins quiver with mirth as she lifts a basket filled with prawns, each the size of a wrestler’s fist, and holds it up for my camera. From across the aisle, another old woman, wearing a scarf around her head, beckons eagerly. She wants me to take a picture of her turtle eggs.

This is the “wet” (fresh produce) market located on ground floor of the Central Market in the town of Kota Bharu where, interestingly enough, most of the vendors are women. At ten in the morning, the cavernous, octagonal hall seethes with color and activity.

One floor up, customers throng around stalls stacked with packages of mysterious herbs, dried leaves, gnarled barks and roots. Patrons sitting at tables deftly wield their chopsticks in and out of steaming bowls of broth and wonton dumplings, and the air sizzles with the smell of curried chicken, fried noodles, and steamed fish. A vendor beams at me as he pours hot milky tea from a mug held high above his head into another held at thigh level; when the latter is brimming, he reverses mugs and does it again, all without spilling a drop. Finally, when he’s satisfied that the teh tarik “pulled tea” is blended to frothy perfection, he offers it to me. It tastes like Indian chai-sweet and spicy.

On my way up a flight of steps, I run into one of the members of our Canadian group. “Bargains!” she says triumphantly, waving her plastic shopping bag. “Go have a look! It’s wonderful!” The top floor of the market is honey-combed with narrow aisles running between shops. Racks display patterned wrap-around skirts, flowing tunics, men’s T-shirts, batik handicrafts, caftans and scarves. The shelves, stacked with bolts of material, are mosaics of parrot green, royal blue, orange and purple.

I stand with the group near the entrance to the market as we wait to board our tour bus. Looking at the street scene, the bustling sidewalks and gaily painted rickshaws weaving between the traffic, I am charmed by Kota Baru. The friendly, lively town is also the capital of the predominantly Muslim state of Kelantan, in the north-east corner of Malaysia where it borders on Thailand.

A mere 13 kilometers away is Panti Dasar Sabak, a beach which, when I visit, lies tranquil and wave-lapped under the tropical sun. Fifty-nine years ago it must have been a very different scene, for this was where the Japanese landed in December 1941 (just an hour and a half before they bombed Pearl Harbor) and then went on to occupy Malaysia and Singapore until August 1945.

Viji, our tour guide, is eager to show us around Kelantan’s Cultural Centre. We watch a martial arts demonstration where combatants assume meditative postures and circle one another with stylized gestures. Then, a group of drummers wearing cheerful yellow tunics swing into action. The drums have a surprisingly mellow timbre and the rhythm patterns are complex and delicate.

I had thought that there was something endearingly child-like about a culture which holds top spinning, kite flying and bird singing competitions each year, but these activities aren’t mere kid-stuff. Top spinning is an art. We watched wooden tops as large as plates whirling merrily on metal-tipped wooden posts. In competitions, tops can weigh up to seven kilos, and it must take considerable heft to pull five meters of cord to whip them into action. The idea is to spin tops for the longest possible time. Experts can keep them going for two hours on a single throw.

We drive past houses with deep blue or orange tiled roofs, and drop in to visit Ismail Jusoh, a master kite-maker. He is a frail old man with deep-set gentle eyes. Behind his small shed is a 2.5 meter-high kite with a lacy white design stenciled against gold paper and mounted into a bamboo frame. He swings a small kite back and forth, producing a “whooomp’ of sound, a “song” which is intensified many times over when monster-sized kites are up in the air, bobbing and weaving against the sky. During kite-flying competitions, points are scored for heights attained and for kites conquered in fights.

I leave Kelantan reluctantly, carrying away images of an emerald-green land with paddy fields, coconut groves, banana plantations, the plaintive call of “Allah-ho-Akbar” from nearby mosques, and the smell of mangoes and papayas wafting on the warm air.

If you go:

Getting There: Malaysia Airlines operates flights to and from Kuala Lumpur and Penang.

Or take the Jungle Railway (express or local trains) which runs between Wakaf Baru and Gemas (which connects to the Singapore-Kuala Lumpur line).

Buses operating between Kota Bharu and Wakaf Baru (about an hour’s drive) are cheap and convenient.

Where to Stay: There are several backpacker and inexpensive guest houses to choose from in Kota Bharu. Typically, Ideal Travellers’ House at 3954-F Jalan Kebun Sultan in Chinatown offers rooms at RM 30-35 (Approx Can$12) per day: If you’d rather be pampered, the Diamond Puteri Hotel offers air-conditioned comfort and excellent service. Fax (609) 743-8388 or (603) 413-7284 or e-mail dp@adorna.po.my for more information. Also see: www.diamond-puteri.com

Worth Seeing: The Kelantan Museum, Royal Museum, Handicraft Village, and Wat Phothivihan (about 15 km north of Kota Bharu), a Buddhist temple in a tranquil garden with a 40-metre-long reclining Buddha believed to be the largest in south east Asia.

More information, call Tourism Malaysia at 1-888-689-6872, or see: www.tourism.gov.my

Author: Margaret Deefholts