PJ, oh PJ

Today I will post a few words about the city where I live, smack in the middle and abouts of the Klang Valley in Malaysia. Home to roughly half-a-million denizens, Petaling Jaya used to once be a mere suburb, akin to nextdoor Shah Alam, with a number of factories and housing areas. Not much different from most Malaysian towns, except for the fact that its grown to become one of the biggest towns in the whole country.

And now they want to call it a city. Call it what you like, I feel the most comfortable in this place, even if there's a wee bit too many cars on the roads these days.




A number of houses in PJ look like this. Rows upon rows of identical-looking houses designed by unimaginative arhitects, while the civil engineers were most likely smoking something real strong the time they were planning the road structure of the whole place. Little more on that later, so they do look different. After all, PJ is more than twenty, maybe even thirty years old, so there's been plenty of time for some chaps to change the way things see fit.


In between the rows of houses are back alleys which are usually inhabited by rotimen, nasilemak riders and screeching cats.


Typical PJ street. Especially narrow during pasar malam times, but we locals adapt easily, hence we are the most happening drivers off the face of the earth.


Random pics of the PJ skyline, at least from the LRT station.




A shoplot mamak somewhere in SS2. Mention SS2 in PJ, and everyone sure know one. And you know, every mamak has its own speciality. This one happens to have Tau Sah Naan! o.O

Doesn't taste too bad though. To be honest.


I just thought this was a nice pic to take.

56k Warning - Sights of Malaysia (1)

First things first. Its been at least two days from the beginning of two thousand and six, and with no sign of a reoccurance of an Indian Ocean tsunami (at least not yet). Spent the day before and a little bit of last year absolutely not sleeping and making a nuisance of myself.

Well, not as much as I hoped I would be. Nothing illegal, assuredly. But lets move on to what's important. They say a picture paints a thousand words, true so when a picture comes with no caption to accompany it, thus killing the thinker's imagination. Much like how a movie does to an adapted screenplay/book.

So I will begin with my little trip to Melaka, down south the Malaysian peninsula. South from the capital, KL, about a hundred kilometres or so, but it still has that feeling that you're coming back to the roots of what Malaysia really is before it the current takeover of modern architecture and ideal sights. Not to say that progress is wrong, but the Old World is nice.


Heck, I love the Old World. In Malaysia's regard, where it was once called Malaya, and everything looked pre-war. The chairs of the coffeeshops were dark brownish wood, and the cockery is well.. it just has its own distinct look that you can only see in this country.

Call it a feeling, but sometimes when you stand in the shelter of the monsoon season and watch the rain pass by to hit the floor, you can see into the past of this country. Call it a hunch, but the twentieth century won't pass away easily, especially for Malaysia.



But enough of that, let's talk about the land where Parameswara made his home so many years ago. Or, you can have a look at the pictures. And then I make a few comments here and there.

Backstory? I spent a few days in Melaka in a little youth camp where I happened to take the role of somewhat-leaderish-person, though it mostly involved me having to check on people's movements after dark. What's the word? Ah, camp counselor.




One of the lots on Jonker Street. For your information, Jonker Street is what you can call a historical landmark of sorts, made to attract the tourists, much like how Bintang Walk in KL and Lygon Street back in Melbourne does.









There are two towns in Malaysia that are famous for their chicken rice. One being Ipoh and the other being Malacca. Ipoh's chicken rice is better, though it does not mean that Malacca's is not good. No, not at all.

The name of the place where a bunch of us decided to dine in. According to a senior of mine, the shop was really another branch of the very same chicken rice shop that I frequented many years before. Apparently. What caught my eye was the decor, that they were able to combine both modern aspects and prewar architecture, yet still maintain the feel of prewar originality.







It's all in the balls, my friend. Chicken rice molded into golf-ball-size.



Asam fish. Mmmmmm.



And of course, the chicken. Always the boobs I attack. Even coined a term for chicken breasts. Tittius fowlus. =P



Despite all the niceness of the place and the food, serving leong cha in paper cups kind of killed the mood. The metal container being reached for is the one with the chilli sauce. The chicken rice sambal, we call it.




Penang has cendol. And ABC. And Asam Laksa. And Char Kuey Teow. And a hecklot of good food. But back to cendol, I don't think I've ever had durian cendol before. I like cendol, and I love durian. Some people say that too much of a good thing is not good at all.

In this case, I loved it.



The entrance of the shop, taken from inside.



Durian cendol. I should have used the flash, but I didn't want to spoil the decor by flooding the atmosphere with bright light.



Chap having an imaginary smoke on a Malacca street. On a pickup truck.



Most Malaysian residential areas look like this, so no surprise. Just a random photo take.



A typical Malay kampung house. They really have some nice houses in the kampungs. The ones in the city are all shit. Mostly.


And finally some random pictures of the weather on the way back to KL. Note that it rained pretty heavily some hours later, as it is everyday here anyway.







In the mean time, Happy Birthday Terra Firma Gregory!