Take The Path Less Ordinary

Anyway, most never travel more than 100 paces away from their villages and so saying “there” and “not there” seemed to work well.

The tourism industry mostly catered to spice traders and pirates until 1300 circa when rich and famous celebrities finally took notice of the Malay peninsular. This was driven by the fact that many 5-star holiday sail ship never go far enough without being tossed back to the peninsular coastline either by east or west monsoon winds.

Among many, Parameswara’s visit was pivotal in pushing the industry into upmarket.

Fed up with volcanic tremors, annual forest fire and dodgy bakso served in Palembang, the prince sailed across stormy Malacca Straits hoping to find respite. The prince was clueless when he arrived Temasek Island. Lonely Planet wasn’t published yet and Indon-speaking tour guides were hard to come by. Yet, ecotourism was the latest fad and Parameswara (let’s keep it short and call him Param) wasted no time booking a buffalo ride - today we call 4×4 safari tour. He has a penchant for wildlife.

In smattering Malay, he asked Temagi the chief guide about a big feline he just saw chewing on his “4×4”’s muddy behind.

P: What in the world is that?

T: Oh, itu harimau (That’s a tiger)

P: Heck, I did not get storm-tossed just to get here to see a tiger. I get loads of them in Sumatra. I say that’s a lion.

T: Tuan, itu memang harimau. Singa hanya dijumpai di benua Afrika. (Sir, it’s a tiger. Lions are only found in Africa).

P: See that Majaphahit ship with cannons pointing at your kampong? My 1,000,000 rupiah fee boarding school education has taught me well enough to tell the difference between a bloody lion from a tiger. Are you calling me liar?

T: Sungguh bijak tuan. Itu singa! (Wow, we are lucky to spot a lion today)

And from thereon, all tigers in Temasek had identity crisis. Locals coined the name “singa pura pura” (meaning de facto lion in Malay) to help the tigers feel better.

Ironically, the dupe caught on pretty well with eco-tourists. They thought it was newly discovered specie and started flocking the island. National Geographic even ran a story about the “startling” find. Of course, American writers back then couldn’t tell a buffalo from a bison and had the cheeks to name natives there Indians. The Sioux, Navajos and Cherokees were peeved. But with cannons pointing at their wigwams, they too didn’t argue much.

Now, back to our story.

It seemed that the barren island has hit the jackpot with tourism. Thus, it was apt that Temagi re-branded Temasek island and marketed it as “Singapura” to appeal to the mass market. (In 20th century, some brand gurus went further by splicing mermaid with lion and gave birth to “Merlion”. Politicians stopped short of changing the island’s name again because cloning was against the law and it didn’t go down well with animal rights activists).

Now, where were we again? Oh yes, Param.

With new found fame as the discoverer of “singa pura pura”, the prince turned naturalist was again itching to move on and pioneer a new ground or two for ecotourism. The habit of pointing cannons at people he made conversation with was starting to get expensive. On bad days, he wasted 10-20 rounds to prove his point. Eventually, he ran out of cannonballs and sold the ship. When Singapura finally bored him, he moved on and swam across Tebrau Straits.

It wasn’t too long when the historic moment arrived. While stopping over in for a short break after a long journey, Param spotted a mouse deer (in his diary he recorded it as an oversized rat) and was amazed how the creature fought off his cats. He took it as a good omen. When a local Orang Asli said the tree he was resting under was the Melaka Tree (Phylianthus emblica), he quickly named the place Melaka.

Thus, the newcomer and Orang Asli natives, through the spirit of goodwill and compromise, reached the first series of mutually beneficial agreement that enabled them to coexist for another 30-40 days, after which Param bought a new ship and went back to his old habit of pointing cannons. Finally, after more and new mutually beneficial agreements were negotiated, the Orang Asli natives perceived the benefits of living further into the jungle and left Param alone to establish a new theme park.

By 1511, the monsoon winds had tossed some Portuguese battle ships to Malacca’s coastline and the captain negotiated with bigger cannons. This time, it was Param’s turn to retreat into the jungle. The Portuguese managed the local tourism scene for 130 years and brought high-end European holidaymakers. In 1641, the Portuguese who suffered heavy losses due to SARS outbreak sold Malacca to the Dutch who ran the place for another 183 years. The Dutch did a good job introducing chocolates, tobaccos and alcohol in duty-free jetties to boost the influx of travellers.

Next came Penang takeover by the Brits, the single most important event to occur in Malaysia – with the exception of Malaysian Idol.

In 1786, Sir Francis Light saw an opportunity in Penang when the local chieftain asked for his help to point a few English cannons at his enemies in exchange for the island. But there was a catch. Unbeknownst to the chieftain, Light had acted without the approval of the East Indian Travel and Tour Company – the tour company Light worked for - when he promised military protection. Finally, the chieftain and his noblemen, realizing their further actions could determine the fate of their homeland, voted to give themselves a raise. It wasn’t total democracy, but it was a good start.

The chieftain tried to retake the island in 1790 and the first round went to him. Light retaliated by senting more reinforcements and again the noblemen formed a consultative forum and voted themselves cost-of-living pay raise. Light offered to foot the bill and peace settled on Penang at last.

So, against all odds, the colonists won and bestowed the country its first constitution and laws on tourism. The tourism ministry was formed and divided into two divisions;

1. Departments set up for purposes that no taxpayer would ever voluntarily spend money on.

2. Departments set up for purposes that made sense originally, but noboby can remember what they are for.

This innovative system of “check and balances” ensures that any action taken by one department will be rendered useless by an equal and opposite reaction from another. The highest ranking officer is the Minister of Tourism, whose primary duties are to complain about dirty toilets, trishawmen overcharging and sent his deputies aboard to frown and discuss with Chinese emperor how to stop female tourists from going to Malaysia to work as GROs. The emperor who has 1 wife and 1000 porcupines (oops, we mean corcubines) couldn’t be bothered.

Actually, the problem started in 15th century when Chinese hotties first touched the shores of Malacca. Malacca went wild and local housewives had sleepness nights. The queen was hardest hit when the Sultan married one named Hang Li Poh. But there was good in the latest craze. Cash rich dirty old pirates started pouring in and brought in the much needed economic boost just when Malacca’s popularity dipped as Singapura’s new night safari zoo veered many tourists away.

If today’s archeologists dig deep enough, ruins of karaoke and joget halls can still be found.

The Japanese took over the tourism business between 1942 and 1945. They would have loved to stay longer but business wasn’t good. Japanese pilots have a habit of ending in-flight briefings by shouting “Kamikazeee” incessantly and this spooked many inbound air travellers. This was compounded by “Harakiri” required of tour guides when bad reviews were received. Done in front of guests, such management style was anything but sightseeing.

In the end, the Japanese sold off their company Karaoke Holidays for a song and diversified into electronics.

Yes, the country’s tourism industry was a complicated one and centuries of hoodwinks, bloopers and heady mix of historic figures with hard to spell names – try getting “Afonso de Albuquerque” right - make flunking history exams perfectly excusable.

Up to 1960s’, history books were considered soft porn and history classes generated more interest than human reproduction topics in Biology classes. Alas, as years went by, politicians ditched the sleaze and rewrote history to appeal to museum visitors.

Today, tourism hasn’t changed much.

It’s still hard to be right when people with nuclear warheads pointing at your country are wrong. Bacteria in dirty toilets is the only culture some touristy spots have. And ironically, townships named after plants like Penang, Melaka or Ipoh hardly have any trees to show.

They say the best lessons are learnt from history.

Yeah, right.