Some say dreams are made of sun, sea , sand and coconuts, while some think a coconut is a definition of a taste of paradise. But where ever you are, the coconut has the ability to transport you to some beautiful tropical coastline in your mind. It is as if you were lying on some fine white sandy beach, sipping coconut water in beautiful Terengganu.
But do you know how much work goes into your coconut drink? And I don’t mean the sweat behind preparing some exotic coconut water cocktails in the bar or in the kitchen of a restaurant. I mean the hard work behind getting the coconuts off the trees, some reaching to more than 60 or 70 feet high. In coconut farms in Thailand, Sri Lanka, Indonesia, Malaysia, India, coconut farmers use monkeys to pick coconuts. Thailand took coconut plucking to the next level by having a Buddhist-inspired school in Surat Thani to train monkeys. The school it seemed is funded to teach monkeys how to pick coconuts without use of force or violence. The practice of using pig-tailed macaques to pick coconuts started since around 400 years ago. Malaysia too has a school in Padang Halban, Kelantan, run by a 63 year old grandfather, Wan Ibrahim Wan Mat (news.com.au, April 2018) to train macaques to pick coconuts.
Figure 1: Sun, Sea, Sand and Coconuts in Mangkuk, Penarik, Terengganu
But while travelling around Terengganu one morning, I came across a young man (not a macaque monkey) picking coconuts off a tree on a beach in Mangkuk (Fig 1). Mangkuk is a peaceful paradise, situated in between the Setiu River and the blue South China Sea. It is a mix of old and new – traditional Malay houses, with unvarnished timber aged by sea breeze laden with salts and resort-like concrete beach houses. It is populated by hundreds of swaying coconut trees, casuarinas, grazing cows and goats. Occasionally a kampong boy cycles past. The fine white sandy beach stretches from as far as the eyes could see, sometimes tainted by discarded plastic bottles. The breeze blows softly from the sea on most days. The monsoon months however (between November to February), bring endless rain, strong winds and raging seas (Fig 2). During the monsoons, the raging seas would mean fishermen would have to look for alternative source of income.
Figure 2: The angry sea during the monsoons, raging on the beaches in Kampong Telaga Papan, Chalok
I met a Malay gentleman, his hand holding on to a line dangling from the top of one coconut tree. As I looked up, I saw a boy perched on top of the tree. The boy would select specific bunches, tie them with the string, and the man on the ground would hoist the bunches safely down to the ground. This the boy would do for several times until he was satisfied there were no more nice pickings. He would work his way down while clasping the trunk with ease without the use of any gadget or safety harness. Then they would pick another two or three coconut trees to select more bunches of coconuts. It seemed that even though the coconut trees grow in land belonging to some land owner in the kampong, coconut plucking from these trees are a gesture of charity by the land owner.
I remember some 50 years ago, seeing one Indian man climbing a coconut tree in my own kampong. He would use a ring made from plant fibre, attached around his ankles before he started the climb. This ring would really hasten his climbing speed. But this Malay boy Amin did not use any gadget on his feet nor a safety harness on his body. Amin, probably 15 or 16 years old, was slim, with an athletic build and long limbs, browned by the tropical sun. He was fearless. He had been plucking coconuts since he was 14 years old, learning the art from his grandfather.
Figure 3: Amin picked coconuts off the trees in Mangkuk, Penarik, Terengganu
It seemed a monkey can pick about 1,600 coconuts a day in Thailand, and about 800 coconuts a day in Malaysia. A boy like Amin probably could pluck about 80 coconuts a day. But the difference is in the delivery and the target market. Monkeys throw down coconuts from the top of the tree, which could break the fruits. But climbers like Amin would deliver beautiful green coconuts safely in one piece, perhaps more for tourists like me to savour the coconut water.
Figure 4: Amin happily climbing down the coconut tree with no harness of any kind.
But would you pluck coconuts for the money? Maybe, if it is the only means of earning a few ringgit a day. But plucking coconuts may not be for the faint-hearted though…
If there is one place I would rather be, it has to be Kampong Mangkok. Kampong Mangkok sits on a promontory flanked by turquoise blue waters of the South China Sea on one side and the mangrove river called Sungai Setiu on the other. On a clear day, you could see the outcrops of Pulau Perhentian, Lang Tengah and Pulau Redang from a beach called Pantai Penarik (Fig 1) . The shimmering blue waters reminded me of Hemingway’s fascination with the sea, “The sea is the last free place on earth”. There is something soothing about the sound of ocean waves, the repetitive slow whooshing sound as the warm sand get pulled back into the sea with every retreating wave.
Figure 1:Kampong Mangkok, facing Pantai Penarik and the blue waters of South China Sea.
Kampong Mangkok is a mix of old and new – kampong houses, with unvarnished timber aged by sea breeze, laden with salts; old traditional Malay houses transported from all over Terengganu, re-constructed;and new Malay and concrete beach houses. It is populated by hundreds of swaying coconut trees, casuarina trees, grazing cows and goats. Occasionally a kampong boy cycled past. The breeze blew softly from the sea on most days. The fine white sandy beach stretched from as far as the eyes could see, sometimes tainted by discarded plastic bottles and all kind of debris brought in by the waves, left half buried in the fine sand.
Straddled between two bodies of water, the village lends two very different kinds of charm. On one side, I saw two brothers fishing as a boat passed by on the Setiu river. This part of the river exuded a kampong charm that a film producer fell in love with and decided to shoot some scenes here for the 2018 production of the film “Pulang”. Parallel to the Setiu river is the asphalt coastal road, lined with coconut trees on one side and the sea on the other. As I cycled along this road, I chanced upon a Malay gentleman standing, with one hand holding on to a line dangling from the top of a coconut tree. As I looked up, I saw a boy perched on top of the tree. The boy, who I later learned was called Amin (Fig 2), aged 14 years old, selected specific bunches of coconuts, tied them with the string, and the man would hoist the bunches safely down to the ground. This the boy would do for several times until he was satisfied there were no more nice pickings. He worked his way down while clasping the trunk with ease without the use of any gadget or safety harness. Then they would pick another three or four more coconut trees to select more bunches.
It was hard work getting the coconuts off the trees, some reaching to more than 60 or 70 feet high. In coconut farms in Thailand, Sri Lanka, Indonesia, Malaysia, India, coconut farmers use macaque monkeys to pick coconuts. Thailand took coconut plucking to the next level by having a Buddhist-inspired school in Surat Thani to train monkeys. The school it seemed was funded to teach monkeys how to pick coconuts without use of force or violence. The practice of using pig-tailed macaques to pick coconuts started since around 400 years ago (https://www.npr.org Eliza Barkley,2011). Malaysia too has a school in Padang Halban, Kelantan, run by a 63 year old grandfather, Wan Ibrahim Wan Mat (news.com.au, April 2018) to train macaques to pick coconuts. For Amin, unschooled and living at poverty level, climbing coconut trees was the only means of earning a few ringgit a day. But plucking coconuts is certainly not for the faint-hearted ..…..
Figure 2:Amin, agile as a monkey, as if “walking” up the coconut tree in Kampong Mangkok without using any safety harness or gadget.
If you keep driving further down the coastal road towards Kuala Terengganu, you would reach another village called Kampong Telaga Papan. Kampong Telaga Papan was where I found a Malay artisan working on a boat. You would see many boats moored (Fig 3) along the Sungai Chalok near Pulau Besar and along one side of the river is an open-air boat-building facility, located among the mangroves. When I first saw him, Pak Peng was busy smoothing and sanding some wood planks. He had been in the boat-building industry since he was 14 years old and his family had been at it for as long as he remembered. But the art of Malay boat-building is dying, Pak Peng lamented and it was sad that the young have no interest in the art, because according to one German Malay-boat owner, Christoph Swaboda, Malay boats built in Pulau Duyong is of high quality.
In Kampong Telaga Papan itself, you will find a small tributary flowing from Sungai Chalok into other parts of the mangroves. This tributary, flowing among the mangroves, is ideal for a late morning of kayak when the ocean tide rises and the tributary is filled with water. We have kayaked in Krabi , in clear blue waters, ending up paddling into caves and in between the small islets. But kayaking on the tributary off Sungai Chalok in Telaga Papan was a totally different experience altogether because here, the water is murky. We kayak down this tributary a few times but after finding out from one fisherman that there was a sizeable crocodile swimming in the murky waters, we decided to give up kayaking here.
Figure 3: Boats moored in the boat-building facility around Kampong Telaga Papan.
If you drive further south from Telaga Papan, you will arrive at Merang Jetty where you can take a boat all the way to Pulau Redang. I don’t snorkel but my friends love snorkeling and would spend hours swimming among the corals and the fishes. While the boat was bobbing up and down with the waves, I watched little fishes wriggling and tugging at the bread crumbs I scattered into the crystal-clear water.
Eight hundred meters before reaching Pak Peng’s place, you would have passed a small open-air kampong restaurant next to a mosque in Telaga Papan, right off the main road called Restoran Kak Zah. It is run by a family and friends and the restaurant is a popular breakfast place for truck drivers, tourists and locals passing by on their way to work. Fishermen spent hours exchanging stories in endless conversations, recalling their many fishing trips in the waters off Terengganu, while seated at a rustic wooden table in one corner, over a glass of teh-tarek. The girls serving breakfast there are friendly and you could get almost anything for breakfast here including Malay kueh. My own favourite breakfast is nasi dagang with fried chicken on the side. My friends used to laugh at me, saying the authenticity of nasi dagang is lost without gulai ikan tongkol ( tuna curry). But then I am not one who follow rules anyway and neither am I a “foodie”.
Terengganu culinary is heavily influenced by the taste of Thailand, apart from cuisines from the three main ethnic groups. This is to be expected as Thai influence has been present since time immemorial based on the geography and the history with neighbouring Thailand. Here the food is mainly rice-based. Some of the popular dishes are nasi kerabu, nasi ulam, nasi dagang, nasi lemak, ikan bakar tawar, sata, otak otak and keropok lekor.
Somewhere in Kampong Mangkok, there is this beautiful kampong house where I would spend days on end on the verandah, observing the changing colors of the skyline and the reflections upon the sea. The tranquility in combination with the surrounding nature inspired an atmosphere of utmost creative concentration. I would be tapping away at my keyboard for many hours, writing and rewriting perfect-sounding thoughts. However, on one particular evening, it was the beautiful sunset over Kampong Mangkok that captured my imagination (Fig 4). Silhouette of endless rows of coconut trees, standing tall looking like black soldiers against the brilliant red sky was breath-taking. It was not long after when my thoughts were interrupted by the azan call for maghrib prayers.
Figure 4: Sunset in Kampong Mangkok in Penarik, Terengganu
By night time, life around the beach house would be completely different. It would be dark outside with no street lights and so quiet around the house, you could only hear the sound of an old, noisy fan with rusted blades. Occasionally you could hear the waves. With no television, no phones, and no internet we were off the grid,so to speak. But it certainly was a much welcome respite. On these dark nights, little flickers of light, fluttering around the room would entertain you. These are the fireflies. And if you listened properly, you could hear the raucous chorus of the cicadas, and once a while, the sound of a motorcycle negotiating a corner on the asphalt in the distance, piercing the still of the night.
A few hours of sleep afterwards and the alarm went off again. It was time for the usual “meeting ” between creature and Creator. Out on the veranda, rubbing sleep from my eyes, while seated cross-legged on the prayer mat, the ritual for early morning prayers and zikr, amidst the cold morning breeze commenced. Hours later, as I turned to take a peep at the sea, I was greeted by a delightful shimmering carpet of calm in the first blush of the sun. The birds were chirping excitedly, exchanging calls while perched at the top of the casuarina trees. Another day of endless tranquility filled with the sounds of life – the chirping birds, the chattering monkeys, the croaking frogs, the rhythm of the waves and the deep sound of well-mannered four-stroke fishing boat engine. It was the beginning of a new day.
Heading back towards Kuala Lumpur after such an exhilarating time spent in Setiu, was to me a kind of a punishment. Driving the 32 year-old Toyota Land Cruiser, the Spicy Mustard, was torturous. The engine would crank up so much noise, it was impossible to carry on any conversation throughout the entire 500 kilometer-journey. But we enjoyed the trips anyway: the stops for prayers, the snacking, the dozing-off on seats that had its fair share of wear and tear and the endless possibility of exciting unplanned stops. But driving the Spicy Mustard required skills because it tended to veer to one side, and the brakes sometimes failed. When parking the vehicle on a slope, little stops had to be placed underneath the tires to ensure the car did not roll off. Once, while parked on a gentle slope, the car did roll off. Spicy Mustard took on a life of its own and finally ended crashing the gate of a neighbour, missing a brand new Ferrari parked just inches away.
If not for the love of writing and blogging, it is impossible for me to stay completely alone. The box, the mobile phone, the keyboard, the 14-year old car, family and forward-looking friends, are enablers for the AAs (those aging alone). A lunch or tea and a good laugh at the nearest coffee-shop with girlfriends every once a while, is a good break. We would talk about anything from politics, travel, anti-ageing creams, arthritis, frozen shoulders, grand children to good food. This spurt of intermission is necessary for me to stay focused on my writing. Two hours of “girlfriends-therapy” and I am once again refreshed for another session of creative concentration in complete seclusion.
But creative concentration is not always achievable even in sedate Shah Alam. Life in Shah Alam is generally quiet, however, during weekends, I would hear squeals of children’s laughter coming from the swimming pool below. Sometimes, hysterical screams broke the silence with excited children racing down corridors to see who reached the door first. But late at night, it would be so quiet I could hear the sound of a drop of a coin on the floor above me. Then there is that constant dragging and shifting of a chair across the floor above late at night, and my creative concentration disintegrates.
But going by what the fiction writer, Stephen King advises on having a writing target of 2000 words a day in his “On Writing- A Memoir of the Craft”, I would be happy if I could manage 500. Perhaps for Stephen King, who thinks that writers should have the ability to remember the story of a scar, 2000 words a day is a breeze.
Wherever I traveled, wherever I stayed, my mind would wonder back to the promise of beautiful Kampong Mangkok. Sitting on the verandah, observing the changing colors of the skyline, basking in the realm of serenity and peace that a beach-front kampong life provides (Fig 5), while tapping away at the keyboards, is paradise to me. How could it not be, when you could capture the vibrant sunrise from the beach in Kampong Telaga Papan and the stupendous sunset from the mangroves in Kampong Mangkok
Figure 5: Pantai Penarik, Kampong Mangkok
Kampong Mangkok has everything nature could offer – shimmering blue waters, fine white sandy beaches, sunshine on most days, swaying coconut trees, friendly kampong folks, unique habitats of Setiu Wetlands and the chorus of the cicadas. The uninterrupted tranquility provided by nature surrounding the kampong, oozed an atmosphere of spiritual charm, a closeness to the Creator and a heightened creative concentration I desperately need to further explore my passion for writing and blogging. Another month, and I might be heading back this wayagain.
Pantai Mangkok with fine white sand, and the lonely coconut
Imagine huge brown boulders hanging over your head on one side and a ravine that dropped all the way down 200 feet or so, on the other. Imagine all you have at your disposal is a mere one foot of space to maneuver your vehicle in-between oncoming traffic. Slow, decorated lorries laden with goods, as high as the sky, bound for the Pakistan-China borders and impatient tour buses, honking endlessly behind you could send your heart missing a beat or two.
Driving along the Karakorum to get to Hunza Valley, landslides normally happened at least twice a day during that 350 kilometers drive. Chances are you will find yourself stopped in your tracks by a landslide or two. But local machinery are on-site to clear the landslide which required you to wait for an hour or so. Tiny fragments of rocks raining down on you is a sure indication of an on-coming landside. KKH runs across the Karakorum Range and through the Khunjerab Pass at the Pakistan-China border. In Pakistan it runs from Abbotabad to the border through the provinces of Kyber- Pakhtunkhwa and Gilgit-Balchistan. The KKH is formerly known as China-Pakistan Friendship Highway. It required the work of 24,000 workers to complete it.
But the views along the KKH are to die for. Towering mountains all around, rushing waters in rivers below, hanging bridges connecting the small towns below the highway, locals walking along the highway since walking was the only means of getting to places while some locals used to hitch for free rides from passing vehicles. Then there is the tunnel after tunnel along the way called Pakistan-China Friendship Tunnel……….
(extracted from an upcoming book “From Middle-East to the Far-East to the South”)
(extract from my book“People & Places: Walk My Journey” )
Almost everyone I know dream of going on the Trans Siberian journey. This iconic trip has captured the imagination of travelers, poets, artists and writers. Steeped in history, writers still discuss the Trans Siberian railway at length, while travelers still include it in their bucket list. The railway track that was built in 1916 by the Russians, said to be “the fairest jewel in the crown of the Tsars” has travelers romanticizing the journey.
The Trans Siberian Railway network covers over 9,288 kilometers with international trains (K3/K4 & K19/K20) running between Beijing and Moscow and K23 / K24 running between Beijing and Ulan Bator. The network spans 2 continents and crosses 7 time zones. This makes it the longest journey one can make on a single train.
“While travelling on the Trans Mongolian Express in 2015, I remember standing by the window of the K3 coach for many hours, trying to catch glimpses of village life as the train snaked its way across the Gobi Desert and the Steppes. The Steppes, populated mainly by horses and camels, were huge rolling grasslands, some time dotted by one or two white felt yurts or gers, a symbol of nomadic lifestyle still predominant in Mongolia today.
Some travelers (like Paul Thereaux), love being on a perpetually moving train, watching the changing sceneries, or spying on some back-yard on-goings, interspersed with getting up for a cup of coffee or chatting with strangers in the corridors, or simply being lulled to sleep by the gentle rumbling of the moving train. It is the immense freedom of movement on a moving train and being left alone to immerse in your own thoughts while staring out that large window of the ever-changing scenery of mountains, trees and farms that I love about long-distance train travel.
I recall the mad rush that early morning of 2nd September, trying to get everyone onto the tour van heading towards Central Train Station in Dongcheng District to board the Trans Mongolian Express. The Beijing Central Train Station was a sea of people. I have never seen so many lines lining up to buy tickets before. There were at least 30 lines that morning. Getting into the main building was no mean feat, given the pushing and jostling crowd. It was absolute madness. I remember Sam, the van driver, telling us “In Beijing, there is no time to be polite”.
As the Trans Mongolian Express K3 train started rumbling and pulling out of the station, I felt a tingle of excitement. Our cabin was the 2nd class, hard sleeper that was slightly less comfortable since the berth was narrower. Furthermore there was no bathroom, only a toilet at the end of the carriage. Going 6 days without a bath was simply unthinkable for me. With a little ingenuity and a lot of patience, I managed to take a bath, leaving a wet toilet and an angry train guard.
The next morning, we all headed for the buffet coach. I managed to find a quiet corner, sipping some green tea. I began scribbling some half-forgotten details about Beijing into my note book. After some 30 minutes on my mobile phone, my text neck left me stiff and uncomfortable so I decided to refocus. In front of me were two white ladies, in their early 50s, maybe. I decided to say hello and they reciprocated. They were from UK , accompanied by one young male, a Russian model I was told. I had noticed him back on the platform in the train station. I could tell he was a model by his gait and his polished air of self-importance.
While walking down the K3 corridor towards the buffet coach, I met a Chinese couple on their honeymoon. In their early 30s, the couple had just been married in Beijing and were planning to take a photo on the platform of the Malinsk station.
Without doubt, there is something undeniably romantic about train travel.
Why are people more willing to chat to strangers on trains? Is it because train journeys tend to be more relaxed? Unhurried? Un-cluttered; and pleasurable with the changing scenery thus allowing freedom and time to interact? The next time you feel like indulging in some romantic ambience, try spending 6 days on the Trans Mongolian Express….you will never know who you meet !
Figure 1: Travellers taking a breather on the platform of the Malinsk station.
Figure 2: The Chinese couple (who got married in Beijing,) was taking the Trans Mongolian Express to St Petersburg for their honeymoon..
Interview with Author Husna Kassim: Discussing her Book People & Places and Other Stories from Life
Husna Kassim is a chemist by discipline with an MSc in Analytical Chemistry & Instrumentation from Loughborough University of Technology, UK. She has an overall work experience of 32 years in various fields. She spent 29 years in Research &Development (R&D) work in the field of agriculture and oil & gas.
Her biodiesel research on palm oil methyl ester resulted in an article being written about her as a pioneer researcher in Petronas Resource magazine in 2002. She is now doing what she loves most – travelling and writing. Husna’s experience in R&D work has kept her well-grounded for her non-fiction writing stint. Her first travel book “A Train to Catch”, based on her Trans Mongolian / Balkan trip was published by Partridge Singapore in 2016. Since then, she has been actively blogging and writing articles for magazines. She won third place for Jasmina Awards 2019, for My Malaysia category for her article “A Kind of Paradise.” She is a member of the editorial team and contributed essays for the book “Ordinary Women, Extraordinary Lives,” published in January 2021.
SHE speaks to NEWS WORLD INC about her book: People & Places, writing aspirations, upcoming books, life memories and much more.
NWI: What was the concept behind penning down the book People & Places?
Husna: When I first decided to put down my travel experiences in the form of the book “People & Places: Walk My Journey”, my idea was to ‘transport’ the reader to the places that I have been , as if the reader was there herself, travelling with me. The hope was to inspire others to explore new cultures and experience the journey itself in the way I have done. Taking a bus around Taurus Mountains in winter in Turkey was my kind of unique travel experience.
NWI: Would you like to throw some light on the second part of the book:We Crossed Paths?
Husna : The book is a collection of essays about physical / geographical journeys and inner journeys. “We crossed Paths” is the collection of inner journeys, mostly a reflection of emotional journeys that I went through while growing up and a home I left, and people who I met while travelling like the Bedouin in Saudi or the Turk in the mosque in Goreme, allowing me to get close to locals and appreciate their innermost thoughts about everyday life.
NWI: How is it different from any typical travel memoir book?
Husna: “People & Places: Walk My Journey” is a travel memoir. It involved two parallel journeys : a physical / geographical journey and an emotional / inner journey. But what differs for this travel memoir to another is the takeaways. This particular book tries to highlight that the best way to know a destination is to explore the people in it through conversations and interactions such as the ones I had with the Turks in the mosque in Goreme and in Istanbul. From conversations, I got to know how most Turks revere Kamal Ataturk and what they think of Erdogan. Explored this way, I almost felt like I was a ‘journalist’.
NWI: Was there any bizarre/unique travel experience that you missed in the book?
Husna:I am not too sure what exactly you mean. I take it to mean the unique travel experience I remember most and greatly missed? The one particular experience was travelling in Southern Tunisia, enjoying a campfire in the desert near Douz under the sparkling stars of the Sahara. I think this is the most memorable night for me being among new friends, one being Mohamad, and burying my legs in the warm sand to keep out the cold. That night we were all Bedouins, eating pre-prepared Mandi meat and dates.
NWI: Did you try promoting the Malaysian tourism?
Husna: There are a number of essays which narrate certain destinations in Malaysia. These narratives reflect cultures of Malaysia like kite-flying in Kelantan (“Flying Wau Over Pantai Cahaya Bulan”); “A Paradise of Sorts” is about two beautiful beach-front kampong called Kampong Mangkuk and Kampong Telaga Papan on the east coast of the state of Terengganu in Peninsula Malaysia; “Backpacking inLangkawi”, another beautiful island on the west coast of Peninsula Malaysia.
NWI: Will you share your UK experience in any of the upcoming book?
Husna: Ireland is definitely on the plate for 2023 or 2024. I am inspired by the movie “Wild Mountain Thyme” and I love the countryside. But South Island of New Zealand will definitely be in my next travel book. It is heaven on earth with the mix of blue skies, winding roads, snow-capped mountains, electric blue lakes, gorges, beautiful rivers with water rushing over pebbles and stones, birds chirping, colony of seals etc . I will definitely write about the nature walks in my next travel book including my conversations with Repika, the 18 year old Maori girl I met while in Kaikoura.
NWI: What is the major life theme in your book, other than travel stories?
Husna: We all go through life, quietly observing the on-goings around us. What happened to us becomes a source of inspiration. But inspiration is never about one thing. It could come from the many experiences we go through: a divorce, a death, a long-drawn illness, the sadness from loss of a loved one, betrayal by a loved one; etc. The world around us, all affect us one way or another. My major life theme is stories around my inner journeys and the will to carry on.
NWI: What do you aspire as an author?
Husna: As an Author I hope to be able to share my experiences with readers through story-telling. I aspire to be able to write and make my mark as a non-native English author like Arundhaty Roy in the “The God of Small Things”. Of course she writes fiction, but I will stick to Creative Non-fiction since by training, I am a research scientist / chemist. But Fiction is where authors make money. I hope that one day one of my books will become a best-seller.
NWI: What are you working on next, any book in near future?
Husna: My next book is not a travel book. The upcoming book “The Push till the Last Mile” will be a collection of essays of how life experiences shaped the person you have become. It will be out in late February or early March 2023. It is a book of life stories: inspirational stories of a winning mentality with accounts of endurance, perseverance and courage; stories of how the cycle of poverty was broken through education; and stories of the unfortunate ones who fell through the cracks. These stories are about paths taken by people who go the extra mile to achieve their dreams. One essay is an interview with Malaysian 7th Prime Minister, Dr Mahathir, a 97 year old statesman who led Malaysia for over 22 years.
Twizel is a handy base to explore Mt Cook National Park and the Mackenzie Basin. It is the largest town in the Mackenzie District, in the Canterbury Region of South Island. The town was founded in 1968 to house construction workers on the Upper Waitaki Hydroelectric Scheme. Today Twizel is a service and tourist town for visitors to the area.
Lake Ruataniwha Holiday Park is a back-packer’s place located in Twizel. It was not the best that I have seen in the 17 days we travelled around South Island but it was affordable. The water was cold and my tropical skin could not even manage a bath that morning or even the night before. But the small chalet was surprisingly warm, even though a little under-facilitated.
We drove out to take the Tasman Valley Walk. The Tasman Valley Walk or Tasman Glacier Walk was not as enjoyable as the Mt Cook Walk we took earlier. The wind was very strong. But the amazing views took our breath away. Figure 1 & Figure 2 showed the environment we saw during the Walk.
Figure 1: Blue skies and gorgeous lakes greet you during the Tasman Valley Walk.
Figure 2: It seems the colour of the water tell us of its origin. Turquoise blue water is glacial meltwater. Here, the green water is generally rain water and not from the glacier.
During the Walk, we met a Malaysian couple The Chinese couple in their late 60s was friendly, like all Malaysians. The couple stayed in the same Lake Ruataniwha Holiday Park as we did. They cook a lot of food in the common kitchen, like all Malaysians. We Malaysians love food.
We did not have much time to get to know the Malaysian couple better because we left early the next morning. We were on the way to Christchurch.
On the way. we made a point to stop by Twizel High Country Salmon farm with a cafe, recommended by this Chinese Malaysian couple. The farm is situated on the edge of the Lake Ruataniwha. It was a popular place to stop for lunch. I am not much of a Sushi person so I ordered one bowl of seafood chowder. The chowder was beautiful. We sat at one table in the open air. The seats were surrounded by pools of Salmon swimming and kicking about in the waters. Nice weather and nice food plus nice company.
I loved the seafood chowder so much that when I got back to Malaysia, I looked for one recipe on the internet. The chowder recipe I tried my hand at was by the famous Ina Garten, on Food Network. Here is the recipe I tried, minus the wine in the Stock of course….
Ingredients:
1 lb shrimps (peeled & deveined, save shells for seafood stock)
½ lb scallops
½ lb fresh crabmeat
¼ lb unsalted butter
1 cup peeled and diced carrots (for seafood stock)
½ cup yellow onions (1 onion)
1 cup diced celery (3 stalks) (for 1 recipe of the seafood stock)
1 cup diced potato
½ cup corn kernels
¼ cup all-purpose flour
1 recipe of Seafood stock
1 ½ tablespoons heavy cream
2 tablespoons parsley (minced)
Salt and ground pepper.
Check out her recipe on Food Network. But a lot of how I cooked the seafood chowder is my version of the chowder.
The chowder is so tasteful that I could finish half a pot in 2 days. Of course, I don’t take any rice or noodles the entire two days. Just toasted bread and the seafood chowder….heavenly chowder. In fact this chowder is perhaps even tastier that the one I took in Twizel.
Travelling can be one road to happiness, according to neuroscientists. When we travel , we rewire our brains because new experiences are key to building new neural pathways in the brain. By rewiring your brain, you become more creative and more receptive of new ideas. The happiest people on earth are those who travel more, suggested by Lily Herbert at one Happiness Conference in 2016 (https:// traveltriangle.com/blog/travelling-makes-you-happy/). Travel enable us to meet people from diverse cultures, an experience that is eye-opening and invigorating.
My most recent trip, although a brief one, took me on a medley of diverse destinations. The journey took us across three different borders (Saudi, Iran and Turkey), the most interesting being the one between Iran and Turkey. These three countries possess some similarities as well as some differences. Although all three are Muslim countries, Saudi and Turkey are largely made up of Sunni Muslims while Iran is largely made up of Shiah Muslims. Turkey and Iran resemble one another in terms of their histories. Iran stand against the international community who tried hard to integrate it to adopt a moderate Islam. Turkey is a reminder of the Ottoman historical super-power and not to be taken lightly but it is a survivor and changes its paradigm to adopt a more rational policy, in line with the world’s latest new age, producing coherent strategies. Of course, one similarity between both Saudi and Iran is they possess the biggest oil reserves in the world.
On the morning of 17th May, we flew into Tehran Imam Khomenei Airport for the very first time. The immigration officer at the arrival desk unfortunately “made a mistake” of not stamping our passports, which later caused problems at Razi Passenger Terminal when we were crossing into Turkey.
That 17th May was a start of many surprises on my first very first trip into Iran in general and Tehran in particular. It was an introduction to a discovery of Iranian beauty and controversy. “If a visitor wants to know Tehran, he or she should visit the old part of Tehran, which is now called District 12”, I was told.
District 12 is the main and historical core of the city, where the Treasury of National Jewels (where the Naderi golden throne and the most valuable crowns from Qajar and Pahlavi kings were kept), and where the Golestan Palace and the Grand Bazaar of Tehran are located.
I didn’t expect to learn about old Tehran on the very first day we landed. As it so happened, we got completely lost, trying to locate our budget hotel, Razzaz Hotel on Amir Kabir Street.
One quickly learned about a part of a city when one is lost in it. One taxi driver insisted he got us to the right address…the Ariyan Hospital instead ! This confusion was understandable because Razzaz Boutique Hotel is also called The Arian Hostel. Travelers trying to find their way around Tehran are at the mercy of taxi drivers who had no access to digital technology when it comes to site location. But on that morning, we were too intimidated by the driver’s hostile tone and body size to insist that he had taken us to the wrong address.
So we decided to just pay him and started walking the pavements. We finally walked a total of about 15 kilometers, in and around its alleyways and backstreets. From my perspective, all alleyways looked the same. We asked locals gathered in the alleyways for help to locate the hotel, which took us even further off the track. Most locals did not speak much English and we spoke no Farsi. Finally, seeing the sky was darkening, we decided to go with our gut feeling and took the direction given by one young man, who was smoking in one back alley. We finally found the Razzaz Hotel.
(extracted from an essay from her up-coming book “Freedom of the Open Road” by Husna Kassim).
Many dream of breaking routines and pushing boundaries for that once-in-a-lifetime experience: taking buses, travelling around Turkey in the thick of winter, or crossing Siberia on the Trans Mongolian Express, or enjoying a campfire under the desert stars on the edge of the Sahara, or watching a bullfight in Madrid.
“People & Places: Walk My Journey” is part travelogue and part personal memoir. Some of these journeys were geographical ones while some were inner journeys, They were written in a vivid emotive narration and storytelling style that would transport the reader back to the journey, as if he was there himself, travelling with the writer. These journeys are told in 22 essays, some of which are Romance on the Trans Mongolian Express; Backpacking Langkawi; Unforgettable Istanbul, and many others.
The book was launched by the ex-Deputy Prime Minister Datuk Seri Dr. Wan Azizah Wan Ismail, on 11 June 2022 at the Putra World Trade Centre, in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.
“I found the book enlightening and while I enjoyed Kassim’s journey as I read, it was how she presented her experiences that I found most interesting. I rate the book 4 out of 4 stars because it was a fantastic read with details about her travel adventures and an eye-opener to many other cultures and people worldwide. I recommend it to individuals hoping to start a travel journal and travel the world someday.”
Jachike Samuelson
Synopsis
“I found the book enlightening and whike I enjoyed Kassim’s journey…….the world someday”.Travelling the world is a feat many dream of, but for Husna, it was a dream come true. This book “People & Places: Walk My Journey” is a compendium of her travels over the years and her experiences while travelling through parts of Siberia, Spain, Turkey, Tunisia, Japan and of course her home-country, Malaysia. It all started with her travel itch in 2014 when traveling to Morocco was made impossible due to technicalities and her attention then turned towards Tunisia instead, a Tunisia recovering from the uprisings of the Arab Spring. The book is an enlightening read especially with how Husna presented her experiences that were most interesting. Writing in first-person narrative boosted the personal nature of this book. As she went through each destination, she made observations that reflected cultural nuances giving insights into the different people and cultures around the world, some many readers may find excitingly unfamiliar. Her descriptions of how each place made her feel and her takeaways from these places made the entire book a learning opportunity. Her chapter titles evoke a sense of adventure in keeping with the purpose of her writing. Such titles “Unforgettable Istanbul”, “Romance On The Trans Mongolian Express” and “On the Edge of the Sahara” made the reader curious and eager to read the chapters. Her geographical journeys were also intertwined with her inner journeys. The book is highly recommended for those individuals who intend to start a travel journal and travel the world someday.
About the picture
The lady next to me is the exDeputy Prime Minister of Malaysia, DS Dr Wan Azizah. A long-time friend. Book Launch 11th June 2022
Beijing Central station was a sea of people and the van dropping us was not allowed into the station. It probably would take an hour or so just to get inside the station, judging by the size of the crowd building up. I have never seen so many lines queuing up to buy tickets before. There were at least 30 lines that morning. Getting into the main building was no mean feat, given the pushing and the jostling crowd. It was absolute chaos. I remembered Sam the Chinese van driver telling us “In Beijing there is no time to be polite”. There was no dignity at the station that day. Proper queuing up would have been more efficient.
As the Trans Mongolian Express K3 train started pulling out of Beijing Central station, I felt excitement mounting. After all the trip was in my bucket list. I also felt a little hungry. I heard that food served in the restaurant on the Chinese buffet coach was similar to hawker food found in Kuala Lumpur. And the good news was that it was halal. On the contrary food served on the Mongolian buffet coach was rather bland, especially to a palette used to everything hot and spicy.
As I got to the buffet coach, I noticed it was nearly full. I was counting on meeting some interesting people travelling on the train. I found a quiet corner and began scribbling some half forgotten details about Beijing in my note book while sipping some green tea. Opposite to my table was a couple of bubbly middle-aged British ladies and a young male deep in conversation interspersed with giggles like two teenage girls, sharing some jokes. Thank God for mobile technology, I was sufficiently entertained so as not to feel completely abandoned.
After some thirty minutes, my text neck left me stiff and uncomfortable. I had to refocus. Curiosity got the better of me and I decided to initiate a little conversation with my neighbour. I said hello and the two ladies, probably in their early 50s, responded with a smile. We started talking.
They were from UK; one was a business development manager and the other was in some hospitality services. The young male happened to be a Russian model I was told. I recognized him while we were all waiting for the K3 train on the platform back in Beijing Central station. I could tell he was a model by his gait and a polished look of self-indulgence.
When the train reached Ulan Bator, a young Mongolian girl and her friend boarded the K3 and occupied the cabin next to ours. A big buxom lady later joined them. The Russian lady was a teacher and even though neither she spoke any English nor I any Russian, I was able to learn through the Mongolian girl, that the Russian lady taught Russian language to a school in Ulan Bator. Russian language was a second language in Mongolia just like English was to Malaysia.
The Mongolian girl, Tsatsral, was heading to St Petersburg to register for a university education. It seemed that secondary school leavers in Mongolia tend to register for college or university education in Russia. Mongolian population was about 2.4 million(in 2014) and 50% of these were women. It was therefore understandable that Mongolia wanted to utilize their women workforce efficiently. Women’s high level of enrolment in higher education reflected female dominance in medicine, nursing, teaching and professional child care. This same trend existed in Malaysia from as far back as ten years ago. Unlike the concern with female purity found in southwest, south and east Asia (Malaysia included), the Mongolians preferred fertility to purity. Mongolian women however although not shy, remained subordinate to men, as in many Asian country, I supposed.
While walking down the K3 corridor towards the buffet coach I met a Chinese couple on their honeymoon. They were planning to take a photo on the platform at Malinsk train station. The couple were from Beijing and decided to celebrate their honeymoon in St Petersburg. Taking the Trans Mongolian Express seemed to be the most romantic journey to embark for couples.
There is something undeniably romantic about train travel. James Blunt in his song “You’re beautiful” dealt with fleeting moments of aching, unrequited longing experienced on a train journey. A study by East Coast Trains uncovered that 1/3 of Brits believed that rail travel was synonymous with finding “the one”. Why is it that people were more willing to chat to strangers on trains? Train journeys tend to be more enjoyable, with respect to scenery, more spacious, and trains always arrive right in town with no crazy long-line check-ins beside being more affordable. The next time you feel like some romance, try spending 6 days on the Trans Mongolian Express K3…you will never know who you meet.
UNFORGETTABLE ISTANBUL
“If there was one single glance to give the world, one should gaze on Istanbul” says the French writer, Alphonse de Lamartine and I share his fascination with the city. Just as Hollywood never had enough of the city, I try to visit the city every few years to reminisce and rediscover. Hollywood shot some top 10 movies in Istanbul. Imagine the opening scene of the movie “Skyfall” with Bond in a motorbike chase of an enemy operative on the rooftops of Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar. Crime fiction British Dame Agatha Christie wrote her famous novel “Murder on the Orient Express” at a hotel in Istanbul called Pera Palas Hotel. The novel centred on a detective, Hercule Poirot, travelling on The Orient Express train that ran between Paris and Constantinople (Istanbul) from 1883 to 1977.
Istanbul’s Historical Journey
Istanbul has been known by several different names, the most notable besides the modern Turkish name, being Byzantium,
Constantinople and Stamboul. The different names are associated with the different phases of its history and the different languages. First it was the Greeks’s King Byzas who called the city by the name, Byzantium, a Greek name for city on the Bosphorus. Then the Persians ruled it briefly after which came Alexander the Great. Then the Romans under Emperor Septimus conquered the city after which Emperor Constantine the Great made Byzantium the capital of the entire Roman Empire and called it Constantinople (www.greatistanbul.com).
Istanbul’s later history was full of besieges: by the Arabs, then by the Barbarians and later by the Crusaders who destroyed and took the wealth. In 1453, The Ottoman Turks led by Sultan Mehmet II, conquered Constantinople. It was renamed “Islambol” (city of Islam in Turkish), the capital city of the Ottoman Empire. Ottoman rule lasted until World War I when Istanbul was occupied by the Allied Forces. After years of struggle led by Kemal Ataturk against the occupying forces, the Republic of Turkey was born in 1923. Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, the nationalist, was responsible for the birth of the Republic of Turkey.
Istanbul’s Districts
Istanbul is the largest city and a principal seaport of Turkey. The city is made up of 39 districts with 25 districts in the European side and 14 districts in the Asian side which include some districts that we probably passed through such as Besiktas, known for Dolmabahce Palace and the internationally renowned football team; Fatih (Istanbul’s largest district & prime tourism area including Sultan Ahmet area); Bey, Beyoglu (Istanbul’s Soho with Istiklal Caddesi as the main thoroughfare, Taksim, bohemian Cihangir); Atakoy (upmarket waterfront property), etc.
The Dolmabahce Palace is located in the Besiktas, on the European coast of the Bosphorus and served as the administrative centre of the Ottoman Empire from 1856-1887 and 1990-1922. It has 285 rooms, 46 halls, 6 baths (hammam) and 68 toilets. The palace was home to 6 sultans (up until the abolition of the Caliphate in 1924) and where founder of the Turkish Republic,Kamal Ataturk died..
The bosphorus
A cruise down the scenic Bhosporus Strait is worthwhile. The Bhosporus waterway runs between the Black Sea on the north, Marmara Sea on the south, continent of Asia to the east and Europe to the west. Lining the Bhosporus are beautiful homes of the rich and famous. Seaside estates along the straits cost anything between 28 to 300 million Turkish Lira (according to mansionglobal.com). The most expensive property was sold to a Qatari businessman Abdul Hadi Mana Al-Hajri in 2015 for a whopping US106 million.
Sultanahmet Area
The tours we took to heritage sites were mainly around Besiktas, Beyoglu and Fatih districts in Istanbul. Sultan Ahmet area is in Fatih, where attractions like the famous Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia, Topkapi Palace, Grand Bazaar, Spice Bazaar are located. The Blue Mosque is the most important mosque in Istanbul standing next to the Byzantine Hippodrome in the old city centre. The mosque (also known as the Blue Mosque because of its bluish tiles on the wall)was built between 1606 to 1616.
Unlike many great architectural monuments built to signify victory, the Blue Mosque was built by the 13 year old Sultan Ahmet 1, after the Turkish military was defeated by the Persians in 1600s.
In the quieter part of the Sultan Ahmet area, are shops selling beautiful colourful mosaic and pendant lamps . And if you walked further towards Gazi Atikali Pasa Camii, you might come across a Turkish peddling prayer beads or sometimes people call them worry beads for zikir purposes .
Beautiful Turkish pendant and mosaic lamps, seen here in Anatolian colours and signified Turkish culture. The traditional form of lamp were first used in Istanbul bathhouses, mosques, and similar places
Zikir beads or tasbih being peddled by a Turkish near Gazi Atikali Pasa Camii in Sultanahmet area. Zikir beads or prayer beads, also called, worry beads are made from kuka wood or boxwood, or semi-precious stones such as agate.
We visited the Spice Bazaar as part of the Dolmabahce Palace & Two Continents Tour we signed up for. The Spice Bazaar was originally named the Egyptian Bazaar, built using the revenue from the Ottoman eyelet of Egypt in 1660. The bazaar was and still is the centre for spice trade in Istanbul but other types of shops have been added on in the recent years. There are over 700 shops in the bazaar. Ceramic shops were some of the shops that you can find in the bazaar. You can also find beautiful shawls and pashminas at a bargain in the Spice Bazaar.zikir purposes .
Beautiful Turkish pendant and mosaic lamps, seen here in Anatolian colours and signified Turkish culture. The traditional form of lamp were first used in Istanbul bathhouses, mosques, and similar places.
The Spice Bazaar, is one of the largest bazaars in the Eminonu quarter of Fatih district of Istanbul (after the Grand Bazaar). It is one of the biggest covered bazaars in Istanbul.
Taksim Square, Beyoglu
Taksim is situated in Beyoglu, the European part of Istanbul and the heart of modern Istanbul. It is a major tourist and leisure district, famed for its restaurants, shops and hotels. The most important monument at the Square is the Independence Monument. Taksim Square is an important hub for public transportation, acting as the main transfer point for the municipal bus system for Istanbul. Taksim Square promised a vibrant nightlife if pub-crawl is your thing. It is where most festivals are held such as the recent 2017/2018 New Year celebration. Taksim Square is also a landing for flights of doves and you can actually feed seeds to them. If you happen to be at the Square, be vigilant however, because nothing is as it seemed. I was caught off-guard by an innovative form of begging by the Birdman
The Birdman in Taksim Square, feeding the doves. This was where the 2017 New Year celebration was held. Taksim Square is an important hub for public transportation, acting as the main transfer point for the municipal bus system for Istanbul.
Istiklal Street
The Taksim Square led to Istiklal Street. If you walk down the Istiklal, you can listen to some street performers playing their music, or stop for kebab at the restaurants, or shop at the department stores, art shops and bookshops, displaying priceless Sufi books such as Shems Friedlander’s “Forgotten Messages” on the life and time of the famous Sufi, Rumi.
At the end of the Istiklal Street, you can actually sit down to have a cup of tea or cay, or a glass of pomegranate juice or sample the roasted chestnuts . Pomegranate is native to Turkey, both in the coastal as well as the mountainous areas up to altitudes of 1000 metres, mainly in the Aegian, the Mediterranean and the South western Anatolia regions.
A vendor selling roasted chestnuts on the busy Istiklal Street in Taksim. The Istiklal Avenue-Tunel nostalgic tram line starts in Taksim.
A Symphony Of Sounds and Scents
Istanbul is the place to be. There is the Turkish cuisine, the hammam experience, excellent museums, the architecture, open-air markets and bazaars, grand imperial mosques and historic churches. Istanbul is a symphony of sounds and scents.
The haunting call for prayer or azan by the muezzin reverberating over Istanbul five times a day, from the minarets of over 3000 mosques. Then there is the sound of the bustling city; the street musician playing the accordion on the corner of the Istiklal; the sound of laughter; and the distant sounds of the sky larks flying over the Bosphorus. Then the scents emanating from all corners of Istanbul. The unmistakable aroma of Turkish coffee; the hookah tobacco; exotic spices and herbs at the Spice Bazaar; the heavy oriental musk perfumes on the street; the sweet smell of apple tea, not forgetting the smell of sweat on the tram on Istiklal.
Then we have the onslaught of Istanbul by tourists with an endless appetite for the exotic. A lady tourist travelling alone on her way back to Bangladesh from Rome. She was engaged with United Nations (UN) and currently working for the UN funding body and the Bangladesh government. She must be doing well because the next time I caught up with her, she was ready to buy off a carpet for TL6000 without so much as a blink. And I always thought bargaining is part of Asian culture..
And then there was the expatriate from Kerala travelling with his spouse. He looked like a retired Hindi film star. He had been employed in Bahrain for 34 years at a time when the Bahrain Dinar was three times the value of the US Dollar. It seemed quite a number of Indian tourists on Istanbul stop-overs were expatriates working in the Middle East. There is another wave of tourists that landed on the shores of Istanbul….loud tourists with deep pockets from Mainland China.
Watching the Bosphorus at sunset from the grounds of the Dolmabache Palace, reminded me of a famous Napoleon Bonaparte saying : “If the Earth were a single state, Istanbul would be its capital”.
When the idea of a Mediterranean holiday was first mooted in 2014, Morocco was our destination of choice. Despite having made preparations to obtain a visa, the London Moroccan embassy did not approve mine. To obtain a Moroccan travel visa, one had to apply from home country… which was not quite what was related to us when we first called the embassy. So my daughter and I decided to visit Tunisia instead.
About figure: Walking through the old part of Tunis, reminded me of how alleyways are typical of Middle eastern architecture so are blue windows.
Tunisia…? A Tripadvisor forum once posted a question by four ladies (probably from Europe) looking for a relaxing sunny holiday in October 2014. They wanted to decide between Morocco and Tunisia, which was the better destination with respect to sunshine, safety, food, hassle-free for women travelers in their late 30s and best accommodation. Surprisingly, Tunisia came highly recommended for best value with respect to local restaurants and colourful local life, other aspects being almost equal. Tunisia was also the choice as a safer destination especially for women travelers back in 2014. It seemed that crime levels in Morocco (ranked 13th) ) was worse than in Tunisia (ranked 46th), (according to https://www.nationmaster.com). Murder rate in Morocco was four times more than in Tunisia.
For my daughter, the pull was the film Star Wars and planet Tataouine as some of the scenes in the film were shot in Tunisia. Star Wars was not the only Hollywood film to be shot in Tunisia. The 1981 “Raiders of the Lost Ark”, action adventure film; “The English Patient”, a 1996 romantic war drama film; “Pirates”, a 1986 film shot in the Port of El Khantoui in the city of Sousse were some of a long list of 25 or so films shot in Tunisia. Whatever the pull factor, I was ready to be immersed in some desert fantasy myself. Besides, this trip was a time for reconciliation and bonding for two family members living 10,000 kilometers apart.
Rue de Pacha & Old Tunis
When we first landed at Tunis Carthage airport, it was well past midnight. We were swarmed by a band of very loud taxi drivers, talking each other down in Arabic and some French, to decide who best to take us to our destination. Both languages were foreign to me. I might have read the entire quran when I was 14 but I did not speak any Arabic. French was totally foreign to me. Finally it was decided on the one taxi that would take us to Rue du Pacha.
About figure: The air b&b we stayed at in Tunis was a typical Tunisian design, run by two university undergraduates. The central courtyard led to all the rooms in the house.
When we were finally dropped off at a small, dimly lit, cobbled street, in the old part of Tunis at midnight, I felt a little apprehensive. Here we were in the middle of nowhere. I could not even make out the street name Rue de Pacha and there was no sign of Taieb. It was another 15 minutes before he suddenly appeared out of the shadows. Taieb (the Airbnb host) (mumbled an introduction as he walked towards us. Taieb was about 5 foot 6 with a typical Middle Eastern beard. I was relieved. I felt we were taking our safety for granted in this strange continent and at such late hour of the night. This feeling of insecurity however evaporated with time.
Taieb walked us through the unlit alleyways towards his place. It reminded me of a scene from Jack the Ripper film. The entrance was a heavy wooden door. It seemed Tunisian homes, rich or poor, are built around a courtyard, which served as a family workspace, well hidden from public scrutiny. Taieb was a university undergraduate. He was rather quiet, I suspect because of his barrier with the English language. His co-host also a university student was more bubbly, chatting with my daughter at breakfast in a muddle of English. Breakfast was typical Tunisian with pastry, bread, fruits and some cheeses.
The morning saw us walking through the nooks and alleys of the medina in the old part of Tunis . In cosmopolitan Tunis, we found that elements of Tunisian culture are diverse and unique. This mix of culture can be experienced in museums (such as the Bardot Museum), contrast and diversity of city architecture (as reflected by SidiBou Said, named after the ancient Sufi scholar), medina of Tunis, cheeses and French croissants, music reflecting Andalusian and Ottoman influences, religion, arts and crafts. According to Linda Cockson, Tunis is termed as “surrogate Paris” ( Travel, Independent Sunday, 13th September 2008) because of its link with French musicians and artists.
About figure: Typical high-ceiling alleys in the souks of the old part of Tunis medina.
We picked our way slowly through the cobbled streets, soaking in all the intrigue, while heading towards the train station to purchase tickets for Sousse. One thing that struck us as very distinctive and iconic, were the alleys and the doors. Doors were huge and heavy and almost always studded with motifs of crescents, minarets and stars. Design of doors would hint at the wealth within the Tunisian house. Generally doors would be painted blue but sometimes they could be painted yellow or brown. Doors of mausoleums of scholars of the Quran are often painted red.
The Great Mosque of El-Zituna
Getting lost in the souks was a great way to discover Tunis. We found the famous El-Zituna mosque or fondly called the Zaytuna mosque after making our way through the souks, worn out from bargaining for crafts, scarves and beautiful handbags from Turkey. One thing we learned was to refrain from showing interest in items you don’t intend to purchase in the first place.
About figure: Design of doors would indicate the wealth within the Tunisian house but generally doors would be painted blue, yellow or brown. I found these doors in the alley ways on my way to Zaytuna Mosque, Tunis
The mosque was built in 79 AH and Wali of Africa, Abullah Ibn Habhab completed the construction in 116 AH. The mosque has preserved its scholarly value, graduating many luminaries of Islamic thought. The ancient Zaytuna mosque in Tunis has maintained its position as an incubator of political and social activity for 13 centuries according to Al-Monitor. The concourse of the mosque was filled with pigeons, some would eat out of your hands, if you allow them.
We met two groups of people while in the ancient Zaytuna mosque. First was Marwa, a local undergraduate at the Ez-Zitouna University in Montfleury, Tunis. While chatting with Marwa, we met an Algerian family in the foyer of the mosque. The Algerian woman, who later introduced herself as Khairah, was visibly surprised to discover I was a Muslim. It was probably my attire that struck her as non-compliant. I was wearing denim jeans even though I had a head scarf on. She was however impressed when I rattled off the ayatul qudsi from the Holy Quran by heart.
About figure:The Great Mosque of El-Zituna, literally meaning Mosque of Olive, located in the middle of Tunis medina, is the oldest mosque in Tunisia. It is known that the mosque hosted one of the first and greatest universities in the history of Islam (https://en.m.wikipedia.org). These columns in the courtyard were brought from the ruins of Carthage.
Men-Only Cafe
Even though many Tunisians we met in Tunis were very friendly people, this friendly nature could turn unpleasant, leading to harassment and uninvited physical contact especially for women tourists, if they were not careful. Friendliness especially with Tunisian men must be regarded with caution because many Tunisian men were rather old-fashioned in their outlook.
As we left Zaytuna Mosque, we scoured the area for a restaurant to have a much-needed drink and perhaps, lunch. We found a number of cafes and restaurants that are for men only, forbidding women patronage. These men-only cafes are popular among Tunisian men. This kind of cafes form an integral part of Tunisian traditional lifestyle, almost like a community centre where men gather to discuss politics, sports and everyday subjects. Women complain that stares and verbal harassment kept them out of these male-dominated cafes. In a society where the national unemployment rate was about 15%, these cafes form an outlet for ‘letting off steam’. They serve a similar function as the “coffee-shop” back in Malaysia except in Malaysia, women (even in hijab) can sit down and have a teh-tarik without stares or harassment.
Since our thirst became unbearable from the endless walks around the souks, we decided to take our chances and walked into one men-only café to buy two bottles of coke. We greeted the bartender with an Assalamualaikum and ordered two bottles of cokes to take away, fully conscious of the penetrating stares from the entire ‘flock’ of men, some seated and others standing , looking on in complete disbelief at our trespass. We were lucky to be spared the embarrassment of being ignored. The bartender obliged us our drinks. We paid him and left the premise. As we left the men-only cafe, we wondered if being foreign women, made all the difference in their tolerance.
After the embarrassing trespass of the men-only cafe, we discovered the most delicious pizza joint in Tunis. It seemed in Tunis, pizza is a staple food and is easily available. A Four-cheese pizza, regular size and two drinks cost only nine Tunisian Dollar, approximately £3!
But Tunisian women like Marwa, and some friendly local children who we met, erased any initial negative feelings I had about Tunisian men….until we got to Djerba.
Sidi Bou Said
On the second last day, we took a train to Sidi Bou Said. SidiBou Said is a town to the north of Tunis. It was named after an ancient Sufi scholar. The town is located on top of a steep cliff overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. The view from Sidi Bou Said was exceptional. The town was overflowing with flowers and vines creeping from every wall and doorways. It was so beautiful that many European artists took up residence in the town. It struck me as a town for artists in the midst of blue-white specks. Rue Dr Habib is a bazaar in SidiBou Said , lined with small shops, studios and galleries selling works and reprints by artists and painters from late 19th& 20th Century. I bought one reprint by an Italian artist, Soro La Turco for 25 Tunisian Dollars. I have always loved oil painting so a reprint is always a good souvenir wherever I go.
About figure: Some local children posing with my daughter in the alley way in the medina of Tunis after our visit to Zaytuna Mosque.
Carthage
Carthage is Tunis exclusive suburbs. Its about 15 kilometers from Tunis city centre. We visited The Musee de Carthage briefly.
Villa 78 & Arab Spring
Villa78 was an interesting Airbnb located on the main street at No 78, Avenue Muhammad V in Tunis. It had a garden in the backyard where guests could chat over tea. I looked forward to breakfast or tea in the garden foyer because of the beautiful garden and the cool Mediterranean weather. We stayed here during the last leg of our journey before flying out to London.
I noticed some reflections of activism pasted on the wall of the breakfast room of Villa78. It made me wonder if one breakfast meeting on one morning in the garden foyer of the Airbnb was anything related to this movement. Many protests sprouted from all over Tunisia in 2011. Oppressive regimes and low standard of living makes a deadly combination, and with social media as the driving force, the Arab Spring which started in Tunisia in 2011, spread like wildfire across the Middle East. By 18 August 2014, there was a warning by the UK government advice to keep to essential travel only, declaring south and east Tunisia a “red flag”. When the La Italia airplane we took from London flew into Carthage airport on 20 May 2014, I must admit we were unaware of the brewing unrest started by a young Tunisian Mohamed Bouazizi, who set himself on fire. In fact on 27 May 2014, just a week after we flew in, there was an attack on a house belonging to the Minister of Interior in Kasserine.
Tunisia experienced unprecedented political and social changes since the ‘Jasmine Revolution’ in 2011. Two political assassinations in February and July 2013 led to public protests throughout the country calling for the government and the National Constituent Assembly (NCA) to be dissolved resulting in the resignation of the then Prime Minister, Ali Laarayedh. A new Constitution, which enshrines fundamental freedoms, civil rights and gender equality was approved by the NCA in January 2014 .
Despite the uprising brewing in Tunis around the time we were in Tunisia, I never for once felt any aggression. Ignorance is bliss. I might visit Tunis again if I get another chance. The lure of Sidi Bou Said, the town for artists, affordable food and accommodation, and the Mediterranean weather, would see me heading this way again……insyallah.
