What Terengganu could be, but what it has become
www.freemalaysiatoday.com
If you are not that familiar with Terengganu, it is possibly the most picturesque and beautiful state in peninsular Malaysia.
Pristine beaches that are white and sandy, line its coast. Tranquil fishing villages and towns are dotted all over the state. And, the locals as a people, are so generously warm. Terengganu is also home to some of the most idyllic islands in the country. Redang, Kapas and the Perhentians can give some of the best islands in Asia a run for their money.
I have an incredible affinity with this state. My father’s first teaching job was in Kuala Terengganu at a school in Seberang Takir. Listening to his stories growing up, I knew he loved his time there. And after I was born, my father would take our family on vacation to Terengganu.
Every few years, he would take us to Rantau Abang during the leatherback turtle season. These beautiful creatures would crawl up the beach to lay their eggs, usually in the middle of the night.
We slept on the beach, and got woken up by the beach “abangs” with torchlights, who patrolled the Rantau Abang stretch to find the giant turtles that were coming up to lay their eggs. It was a magnificent sight, and as a kid, the excitement was uncontainable for me.
Years later, as a 20-year-old student, every time I came home to Malaysia on my university breaks, I would always go back to Rantau Abang. There were few things I would not miss when I came home.
In my hometown of Penang, the first stop was to grab some char koay teow. This was followed by my mum’s tannisar at home. Then, I would make my way to Queen Street for Dawood Restaurant’s chicken biryani, and on the way back, get Balik Pulau durian for dessert.
After a few days with the folks and my friends, Rantau Abang in Terengganu was my next go-to.
I did not have the money to venture to Bali or Phuket. So, it was a night bus from Butterworth that would get me to Rantau Abang in the late morning. If you made a deal with the bus drivers, for a few additional dollars (in those days the ringgit was interchangeably referred to as the “dollar”), they would drop you off right in front of my favourite Ismail’s Beach Resort – and I use the word “resort” quite loosely here.
An open dining area that doubled up as a reception greeted you when you arrived at Ismail’s place. Everyone was easy going and friendly. You could get a small rickety chalet with a bed and bathroom for a few bucks. It came with a balcony or lanai outside. And, in front of you, was the South China Sea in all its splendour.
Casuarina and coconut trees lined the magnificent beaches. The winds would gently caress you, and the sea was turquoise, and clear. Ismail’s Beach Resort would mainly attract foreigners with a smattering of local interlopers, like me.
The food was unpretentious but delicious. Local curries, simple grilled fresh seafood, salted fish, and copious amounts of “keropok.” It was a motley crew of travellers who frequented this place. You could find young backpackers, seasoned travellers, married couples, divorcees, etc. here. It was a democratic collection of people with no hierarchies and no airs about them. The resort was cheap and cheerful.
There were no “bars” around, but the proprietors would direct you to where you could procure your choice of beverages, “halal” or not, and would readily help with glasses, ice cubes, and mixers.
Every evening, there was a gathering outside someone’s chalet. It didn’t matter if you knew them or not. All you had to do was to turn up, and you’d be welcomed with open arms and a beverage. I made interesting acquaintances, forged friendships, learnt about other cultures, and had a fabulous time.
The local people were always non-judgmental and were ever ready to be helpful to guests. There were no rules about how short your shorts should be, or how revealing your swimwear could be. Everybody just went about their own business with good cheer.
The tourists enjoyed the carefree and unrestricted access to the glorious beach. And, all this without the gaudy lights and unsavoury elements of Phuket or Koh Samui, and at prices that were not as outrageously expensive as Bali.
The Terengganu people would showcase their handicraft, carpentry, batik, and other local artisanal products. And, the tourists would lap it up. I always thought that Terengganu would eventually become a real magnet for foreign tourism in Malaysia. Because its allure was so great, and its people so charming.
But alas, it never happened.
And now, the Terengganu state government is planning on enforcing Syariah-friendly clothing ethics in their state, especially involving foreign tourists. Go figure! Well perhaps, I’ll just have to go to Bali or Phuket, like all the other foreigners, and be allowed to wear whatever I want.
Again, it is a shame to think of what Terengganu, like Malaysia, could be, but what it has become.
www.freemalaysiatoday.com
Pristine beaches that are white and sandy, line its coast. Tranquil fishing villages and towns are dotted all over the state. And, the locals as a people, are so generously warm. Terengganu is also home to some of the most idyllic islands in the country. Redang, Kapas and the Perhentians can give some of the best islands in Asia a run for their money.
I have an incredible affinity with this state. My father’s first teaching job was in Kuala Terengganu at a school in Seberang Takir. Listening to his stories growing up, I knew he loved his time there. And after I was born, my father would take our family on vacation to Terengganu.
Every few years, he would take us to Rantau Abang during the leatherback turtle season. These beautiful creatures would crawl up the beach to lay their eggs, usually in the middle of the night.
We slept on the beach, and got woken up by the beach “abangs” with torchlights, who patrolled the Rantau Abang stretch to find the giant turtles that were coming up to lay their eggs. It was a magnificent sight, and as a kid, the excitement was uncontainable for me.
Years later, as a 20-year-old student, every time I came home to Malaysia on my university breaks, I would always go back to Rantau Abang. There were few things I would not miss when I came home.
In my hometown of Penang, the first stop was to grab some char koay teow. This was followed by my mum’s tannisar at home. Then, I would make my way to Queen Street for Dawood Restaurant’s chicken biryani, and on the way back, get Balik Pulau durian for dessert.
After a few days with the folks and my friends, Rantau Abang in Terengganu was my next go-to.
I did not have the money to venture to Bali or Phuket. So, it was a night bus from Butterworth that would get me to Rantau Abang in the late morning. If you made a deal with the bus drivers, for a few additional dollars (in those days the ringgit was interchangeably referred to as the “dollar”), they would drop you off right in front of my favourite Ismail’s Beach Resort – and I use the word “resort” quite loosely here.
An open dining area that doubled up as a reception greeted you when you arrived at Ismail’s place. Everyone was easy going and friendly. You could get a small rickety chalet with a bed and bathroom for a few bucks. It came with a balcony or lanai outside. And, in front of you, was the South China Sea in all its splendour.
Casuarina and coconut trees lined the magnificent beaches. The winds would gently caress you, and the sea was turquoise, and clear. Ismail’s Beach Resort would mainly attract foreigners with a smattering of local interlopers, like me.
The food was unpretentious but delicious. Local curries, simple grilled fresh seafood, salted fish, and copious amounts of “keropok.” It was a motley crew of travellers who frequented this place. You could find young backpackers, seasoned travellers, married couples, divorcees, etc. here. It was a democratic collection of people with no hierarchies and no airs about them. The resort was cheap and cheerful.
There were no “bars” around, but the proprietors would direct you to where you could procure your choice of beverages, “halal” or not, and would readily help with glasses, ice cubes, and mixers.
Every evening, there was a gathering outside someone’s chalet. It didn’t matter if you knew them or not. All you had to do was to turn up, and you’d be welcomed with open arms and a beverage. I made interesting acquaintances, forged friendships, learnt about other cultures, and had a fabulous time.
The local people were always non-judgmental and were ever ready to be helpful to guests. There were no rules about how short your shorts should be, or how revealing your swimwear could be. Everybody just went about their own business with good cheer.
The tourists enjoyed the carefree and unrestricted access to the glorious beach. And, all this without the gaudy lights and unsavoury elements of Phuket or Koh Samui, and at prices that were not as outrageously expensive as Bali.
The Terengganu people would showcase their handicraft, carpentry, batik, and other local artisanal products. And, the tourists would lap it up. I always thought that Terengganu would eventually become a real magnet for foreign tourism in Malaysia. Because its allure was so great, and its people so charming.
But alas, it never happened.
And now, the Terengganu state government is planning on enforcing Syariah-friendly clothing ethics in their state, especially involving foreign tourists. Go figure! Well perhaps, I’ll just have to go to Bali or Phuket, like all the other foreigners, and be allowed to wear whatever I want.
Again, it is a shame to think of what Terengganu, like Malaysia, could be, but what it has become.
