Marketing in Malaysia

The markets of Kota Kinabalu stretch along the seashore of the city, with the back side of the market buildings adjoining the shore directly. Many goods are brought by boat the great market spaces. The markets are at once a tourist attraction and a place for everyday people to buy fresh food. The narrow and slightly claustrophobic aisles are filled with every sort of fruit and vegetable imaginable, from the run-of-the-mill and dime-a-dozen mangos, papayas, and mangosteens to the exotic and dear apple and grape. Other sections sell chickens, fish, and other kinds of meat packed in buckets of ice or, in some cases, displayed on bloody cardboard. Here and there, batik shirts, printer cartridges, and car parts can be found. Around a few corners, a shop keeper or a small child of a shopkeeper stretches out for an afternoon nap. 

tiny calamansi limes, ginger root, and chili peppers

Perhaps the most memorable aspect of the market is its smell. After a mention of bloody cardboard, it may seem that I mean this in a negative way. There are indeed a few less-than-pleasant smells. But the dominant elements in the air are the saltiness of fresh ocean fish, the different sort of saltiness of the many fermented fish products that are essential to Southeast Asian cooking, and the heavenly smell of piles of tree-ripe mangos. 

Various dried, fermented fish products

All the key elements of Southeast Asian cookery are here: the varied sizes and shapes of onions, garlic, and shallots (with each size, shape, and color seemingly having its own Malay word). More kinds and colors of ginger root than I can count. Dried and fermented fish, crabs, shrimp in many forms. Innumerable types of greens. Fragrant mint, cilantro, basil, and many other herbs whose names I do not know. Chili peppers ranging from nearly foot-long red ones to tiny little green ones less than an inch long. Blocks of palm sugar. Every size and shape of squash. The tiny little limes that garnish just about any dish. All of these things come together to join the four key tastes of Southeast Asia -- sweet and salty, sour and spicy -- each of which must be properly balanced in truly good cooking. 

bananas and squash

Upstairs is a sort of food court where the smell of hot frying oil, garlic, and (again!) fermented fish hangs over the room. One stall offered 35 different versions of noodles, while another offered a couple dozen variations on fried rice. Still others ladled up rich and pungent coconut-based curries. Fresh juice of the type that is nearly impossible to find in North America was on offer for a few cents. Coconuts the size of my head, fresh from the forest, were the seeming beverage of choice. For those not wishing to take on the entire coconut (a family-sized job), a cup of fresh coconut water was for sale for one Malaysian Ringgit (about 30 cents). 

While I enjoy Southeast Asian food in most of its form, it is the beverages that bring me the greatest joy. While I appreciate the coconut water, it is the fresh lemonade that is my favorite. Rather than simply squeeze the juice from the lemon or lime, the peeled fruit is often ground up in a large blender, giving a much more substantial drink with bits of ground-up seed giving a surprisingly nice and slightly crunchy finish. No day in Malaysia would be complete without a cup of "teh tarik," the national beverage, made of strong tea and condensed milk assembled in a complex process and served (like most drinks, including some juices) either hot or cold.

You didn't have to walk but a few blocks from this enormous market to find a well-stocked supermarket. Yet it was clear, even in the slower latter part of the market day, where Kota Kinabalu residents prefer to shop. 

An aisle of the market

Memories of Kyiv

As I sit here on the Borneo coast of East Malaysia, my mind is continually drawn to another place, the Ukrainian capital of Kyiv. 

The horrible news coming from Kyiv in the past week has burdened my heart and mind. This is not to say that Kyiv and Ukraine suffer alone. In nearly every way, the people of Homs, Damascus, Bangui, Juba, and a number of other cities where friends dwell are suffering even more. But Kyiv has always had a special place in my heart and memory. 

I first stepped out of the Kyiv metro onto Independence Square in the autumn of 1999. I was attending a conference in the far-flung suburbs of Kyiv that required taking an electric train, transferring to the metro, and making an internal metro transfer to reach the city center. Independence Square (Maidan Nezalezhnosti in Ukrainian) is neither the biggest, prettiest, nor grandest square in that part of the world. It is far from the loveliest spot in the striking city of Kyiv. Yet it seems unquestionably to be the heart of the city and, especially in recent years, the country. 

The Square in happier times. The bell tower of the beautiful and ancient St. Sophia's Cathedral is in the upper left

Long before I knew it, this vast square was known as the October Revolution Square, and if I'm not mistaken, Lenin once gazed down from the far end. Like much of central Kyiv, the square was built after World War II destroyed much of the area in a grand Stalinist style. It is probably one of the finest example of this monumental school of architecture which makes so many cities in that part of the world so striking. At one curved end, a number of narrow streets enter the square, descending the hill from the higher and more ancient Sofia Square. I've enjoyed a number of good coffees and pastries on those narrow, sloping streets. The other end of the Square is dominated by the Ukraine Hotel.

At some point in the early 2000s, the square was massively remodeled to include a multi-story exclusive shopping center under the square, a sort of temple to commercialism. The square is bisected by the broad Khreshchatyk Avenue that sweeps in Stalinist style through the city center. 

I have walked these streets many times over the past 15 years. Changing trains at the busy subway junction beneath the square. Grabbing a quick bite to eat at the mall food court or a nearby restaurant. Meeting a friend. Enjoying a festival. Buying a book at an open-air book market. Emerging from the subway to explore some of the fine parks, ancient churches, or other beautiful areas nearby. When I think of Kyiv, this square is what comes to mind. 

The Ukraine Hotel (from Wikipedia)

So it's hard not to think of these familiar places as I hear of the Ukraine Hotel now serving as a hospital, morgue, and sniper position. As I see photos of the the burned out buildings lining the square and corpses amidst the burned barricades. As I hear of friends' loss of relatives in the violence and fear for other relatives rushing to aid the protesters. This is not the first time the people of Ukraine have come to the Maidan. It is not the first time that they have fought for Kyiv. Given the continuing political, economic, and geopolitical complexity of the place, I fear it may not be the last. 

Ukraine has been good to me. I have had wonderful and memorable meals in grand restaurants. I have had even more memorable simple suppers and cups of good, strong tea in tiny kitchens of Soviet-era apartments, seminary dining rooms, and cozy village homes. I have enjoyed good conversations on long overnight train rides with complete strangers and during long car rides with friends. I have had many conversations that blend Russian, English, and Ukrainian in a strangely effective mode of communication. I have walked the streets of many of its cities, from Lviv in the west to Donetsk in the east. 

Indeed, Ukraine has been good to me. I am thankful and blessed. May peace come soon to this dear place.