Day 17.
The Forestry Research Institute Malaysian are obviously very proud of the work they have done. We saw some of their efforts today in KL's very own protected patch of junglyness north of the city. It may be called jungle, but it's more like a dry forest, the hillside trees soaring up into the blue skies over gargantuan palm fronds and not a leech to be had.
The publicly-accessible track climbs and falls around the rolling hills of the valley in which the institute is located and ends in an amazing regimented arboretum of mature trees -towering tropical giants with buttress roots and leaves the size of serving platters. The sun-streaming ambience is augmented with the occasional trickle of mountain streams, the constantly battling siren-like cicadas and the flitting sing-song of warblers which, along with the occasional musky fungal spore-scent, made this a very sensual encounter: these primal forces have been doing the same for countless millennia.
Apart from the odd butterfly and monitor lizard climbing the trees in search of birds eggs, in an hour and a half we met only the searchers of fitness, all Chinese, pounding their way round in stylish boots, wiping their well-earned sweat with sweatier towels. No-one cuts the trees down here, no-one views these immense trunks with dollar signs in their eyes, no-one lives here except the ever-watchful screechy long-tailed macaques.
A short cab drive later takes us to the Batu Caves, an astonishing combination of Hindu deity worship and natural wonder. The limestone cave site at the top of a long flight of steps contains shrines to Lord Murugan, the popular Tamil god of... well, lots really! He is such a popular deity that each year the festival of Thaipusam takes place here -devotees pierce the skin on their backswing fish hooks, skewer their cheeks or tongues or their abdomens in supplication, in mortification for sins and in hope for prayers answered. This is pretty scary for the uninitiated or the squeamish, but accompanied by incessant drum-beats and the awe-inspired admiration of the devoted crowds the men seem pretty happy to have great big fish hooks dug into their skin in order to suspend pots of milk from them or support great steel-framed cradles. Along with their families, they make the long, painful night walk from the city centre to the place of homage and tender their offerings to the god to wide acclaim. The whole event takes place over 3 days bringing traffic to a near-halt - it must be one of the only times the Indian community is not in attendance at their shops and businesses!
The first cave is enormous and is filled with the tinny, repetitive sound of a sung bhajan coming from a psychedelic devotional alarm clock in the equally psychedelic Hindu gift shop. This cave leads to another, the inner sanctum which is open to the skies. Great curtains of limestone formations hang in waves and curved blobs, a natural abstract sculpture. There is the constant threat of cave-in from these pigeon-filled roofs and a smell of rank piss from the animals that live all around. To tell the truth, I couldn't wait to get out.
Part-way down the long flight of precarious steps is the suitably named 'Dark Cave', so called because it is a cave and it is dark! Until recently a public space, it was mined for the bat guano, dynamited for fossils (which were never found) and brightly illuminated for people to take as pleasant a walk as possible in a stinking cave of poo.
Recently acquired by a conservation group, the tropical caves are now protected which means that the amazing fauna that survives in these unlit chasms is able to exist in peace without the unthinking interference of humans. On a guided tour using only hand-held lcd torches, the path wends its way along the curve of the cave, the bats above chatter as they fly in and out the little sun-pierced roof apertures and the rust-brown guano below constantly moves around our feet. Rare trapdoor spiders, rapidly scurrying centipedes and bat-eating snakes inhabit this midnight realm. White stalactites and stalagmites emerge from the gloom and at the furthest reach a natural roof collapse reveals a cathedral-sized open space -the forest above threatening to pour down and invade this subterranean kingdom.
And then we're back out in the clear air and intense afternoon sunlight sitting in a spanking new KTM railway carriage returning to the heart of the city, to drink chai in a little Indian café, to take snaps in Merdeka Square and commute back to Penny and Mick's flat in Bangsar only to go out again to perhaps the best Sri Lankan restaurant we've ever been to.
From serene natural bliss to unrestrained religious fervour, from touristy fun to pleasant domestic comfort, today had it all.
