Originally appeared on the March 27, 2015 issue of BusinessWorld. Posted late because I only just discovered that this story came out last year. Click here for the original article and more photos
By Jennee Grace U. Rubrico
Terengganu’s understated charms
Posted on March 27, 2015
SCULPTING a section of wood that will form part of the hull of a 50-foot boat, the shipwright says that the vessel, when completed, can travel the seas for up to a century.
“It is made of cengal,” the man, whose withered face makes it difficult to ascertain his age, declares through Syed, our tour guide and translator, as he dusts off wood shavings. “Yes, (it will last) up to 100 years.”
The boat maker from Pulau Duyong (Mermaid Island) in Terengganu cannot tell us what makes cengal (pronounced che-nguhl) special. But Syed, a staff member of the local campus of Malaysian university UCSI who used to work for the tourism board, says that the hardwood, endemic to Malaysia’s forests, has been the timber of choice of the state’s shipwrights for generations.
Duyong Boatyard builds yachts and fishing boats, the shipwright says as he takes out pictures of the vessels they completed over the years. It takes a year and a half to build a big vessel, three months for a small one.
Patrons pay a premium for their work. “The price of one fishing boat is 800,000 ringgit,” Syed says, adding that a yacht can go up to 5 million ringgit. The shipwrights build the boats one at a time.
Two relatives join the boat maker at the dry dock. He mentions that the shipwrights of Terengganu build boats from memory and do not use plans. The trade, he says, was learned from their fathers and passed on to their sons.
Nowadays, orders come in trickles. The artisans say that only one other family still makes boats on the island. “They are closed right now, because they don’t have projects.”
But boat-making is not intended to be a large income generator for the oil-rich state. “(The industry) is a small one, almost like a showcase for a traditional industry,” Syed says, adding that it is not commercially feasible as cengal costs a steep 15,000 ringgit per ton.
The visit to the shipwrights of Terengganu started our heritage tour of the Syariah-governed state, whose nearest movie theater is a state away, and retail experience is limited to a street called Kampong Cina (China Town), supermarkets and a smattering of handicraft and batik stores that dot Kuala Terengganu, the capital.
A rustic charm emanates from the state’s strong sense of tradition, hospitable people and lack of gimmickry. The laid-back state in peninsular Malaysia’s east coast has earned a spot on the tourism map for hosting the World Monsoon Cup, an annual event that is said to be the most formidable leg of the Alpari World Match Racing Tour, every November.
Syed says that during this time of the year, the sea is so rough that its shutters the resorts off the mainland, adding that the tempestuous waves have claimed lives.
But the drop in Terengganu’s temperatures to signify the start of the monsoon season does not mean a break from aquatic fun. Tasik Kenyir, an artificial lake that was dug out and turned into a dam, has a lot to offer by way of recreation all year round.
A cruise on the 260-kilometer catchment area in the district of Hulu Terengganu is an hour spent appreciating nature and learning about the topography of Kuala Berang, the gateway to the dam.
Asked how deep the lake is, Syed points to a tree trunk that rises above the water. “Do you see that place where there is a line? The darker part up to the line, that’s how high the water rises.”
The hotels surrounding Lake Kenyir are closed for the monsoon months, but access to some of the 14 natural waterfalls that flow into the artificial lake is open all year.
The one we visit is small as far as the lake’s water sources go, but high enough for the brink to be invisible from the base. A slippery but otherwise navigable cement trail that runs from the lake to the waterfall’s precipice gives a glimpse of the gushing waters that run its hydroelectric power plant.
In the watershed, trees display their age through the gnarly roots that cross the path and rivulets flow out from little breaks in the ground.
A backward glance rewards trekkers with a priceless view of the lake, the undulating water taxi and the forested islands -- patches of land that had been mountain peaks before the place was excavated.
The Tasik Kenyir Herbal Garden where the Orang Asli -- Malaysia’s indigenous people -- raise medicinal plants is tucked in one of these islands. We arrive in time to see the head herbalist holding a session on the wonders of tongkat ali (Eurycoma longifolia), a bitter root that is said to be both an aphrodisiac and an energy booster for men.
Behind him, on a stove fueled by firewood, brews a concoction of the root and water, which is later distributed to the men in the audience. My father tries it, and almost instantly we see how bitter it is from his face.
Medicinal plants are not the only things that grow in the rainforest. On our way out, the water taxi captain points to a spider that is hanging from a web anchored on nearby plants. I ask if it is poisonous. “Only if you touch it,” he replies.
Outside of the water, Terengganu is no less intriguing. Religion’s influence is evident in the mosques and prayer rooms all over the Islam-centric state. Among the most famous is the Crystal Mosque, which stands on water and is made of glass. It is a beacon at night, when the glass catches the light and the surrounding water shimmers. Nearby, the Floating Mosque sprawls on a pond that mirrors its whitewashed structure.
Terengganu prides itself with creating keropok lekor, a fish snack made from sardines and sago flour. In the district of Teberang Takir, keropok lekor makers continue the tradition of cleaning up fresh sardines and grinding them into a paste that is mixed with the sago flour. Once mixed and molded into a cylindrical mash, it is boiled in a pot placed on a wood furnace. Wood is used to add a smoky scent and flavor to the dish.
Bags of boiled keropok lekor make their way to vendors on motor boats that cut across the river to the market. Syed says the people of Terengganu eat the snack as they buy it from the markets, but adds that tourists would do well to fry it before eating.
Shortly before sunset, residents of Terengganu gather on beaches to fly kites in the monsoon wind. Under the sea, currents pull in the waters and slam billows on the shore, while in the sky, the sun is subdued by nimbus clouds.
A hawk comes out from its nest, hunting on the waters, and many below stop to observe the predator as he banks and swoops in for a prey.
Somewhere in the horizon, a yacht made of cengal and following a mental blueprint that has been passed from father to son continues its 100-year voyage into testy waters, a quiet exhibit of its native land’s fortitude, substance and subtle beauty.
The boat maker from Pulau Duyong (Mermaid Island) in Terengganu cannot tell us what makes cengal (pronounced che-nguhl) special. But Syed, a staff member of the local campus of Malaysian university UCSI who used to work for the tourism board, says that the hardwood, endemic to Malaysia’s forests, has been the timber of choice of the state’s shipwrights for generations.
Duyong Boatyard builds yachts and fishing boats, the shipwright says as he takes out pictures of the vessels they completed over the years. It takes a year and a half to build a big vessel, three months for a small one.
Patrons pay a premium for their work. “The price of one fishing boat is 800,000 ringgit,” Syed says, adding that a yacht can go up to 5 million ringgit. The shipwrights build the boats one at a time.
Two relatives join the boat maker at the dry dock. He mentions that the shipwrights of Terengganu build boats from memory and do not use plans. The trade, he says, was learned from their fathers and passed on to their sons.
Nowadays, orders come in trickles. The artisans say that only one other family still makes boats on the island. “They are closed right now, because they don’t have projects.”
But boat-making is not intended to be a large income generator for the oil-rich state. “(The industry) is a small one, almost like a showcase for a traditional industry,” Syed says, adding that it is not commercially feasible as cengal costs a steep 15,000 ringgit per ton.
The visit to the shipwrights of Terengganu started our heritage tour of the Syariah-governed state, whose nearest movie theater is a state away, and retail experience is limited to a street called Kampong Cina (China Town), supermarkets and a smattering of handicraft and batik stores that dot Kuala Terengganu, the capital.
A rustic charm emanates from the state’s strong sense of tradition, hospitable people and lack of gimmickry. The laid-back state in peninsular Malaysia’s east coast has earned a spot on the tourism map for hosting the World Monsoon Cup, an annual event that is said to be the most formidable leg of the Alpari World Match Racing Tour, every November.
Syed says that during this time of the year, the sea is so rough that its shutters the resorts off the mainland, adding that the tempestuous waves have claimed lives.
But the drop in Terengganu’s temperatures to signify the start of the monsoon season does not mean a break from aquatic fun. Tasik Kenyir, an artificial lake that was dug out and turned into a dam, has a lot to offer by way of recreation all year round.
A cruise on the 260-kilometer catchment area in the district of Hulu Terengganu is an hour spent appreciating nature and learning about the topography of Kuala Berang, the gateway to the dam.
Asked how deep the lake is, Syed points to a tree trunk that rises above the water. “Do you see that place where there is a line? The darker part up to the line, that’s how high the water rises.”
The hotels surrounding Lake Kenyir are closed for the monsoon months, but access to some of the 14 natural waterfalls that flow into the artificial lake is open all year.
The one we visit is small as far as the lake’s water sources go, but high enough for the brink to be invisible from the base. A slippery but otherwise navigable cement trail that runs from the lake to the waterfall’s precipice gives a glimpse of the gushing waters that run its hydroelectric power plant.
In the watershed, trees display their age through the gnarly roots that cross the path and rivulets flow out from little breaks in the ground.
A backward glance rewards trekkers with a priceless view of the lake, the undulating water taxi and the forested islands -- patches of land that had been mountain peaks before the place was excavated.
The Tasik Kenyir Herbal Garden where the Orang Asli -- Malaysia’s indigenous people -- raise medicinal plants is tucked in one of these islands. We arrive in time to see the head herbalist holding a session on the wonders of tongkat ali (Eurycoma longifolia), a bitter root that is said to be both an aphrodisiac and an energy booster for men.
Behind him, on a stove fueled by firewood, brews a concoction of the root and water, which is later distributed to the men in the audience. My father tries it, and almost instantly we see how bitter it is from his face.
Medicinal plants are not the only things that grow in the rainforest. On our way out, the water taxi captain points to a spider that is hanging from a web anchored on nearby plants. I ask if it is poisonous. “Only if you touch it,” he replies.
Outside of the water, Terengganu is no less intriguing. Religion’s influence is evident in the mosques and prayer rooms all over the Islam-centric state. Among the most famous is the Crystal Mosque, which stands on water and is made of glass. It is a beacon at night, when the glass catches the light and the surrounding water shimmers. Nearby, the Floating Mosque sprawls on a pond that mirrors its whitewashed structure.
Terengganu prides itself with creating keropok lekor, a fish snack made from sardines and sago flour. In the district of Teberang Takir, keropok lekor makers continue the tradition of cleaning up fresh sardines and grinding them into a paste that is mixed with the sago flour. Once mixed and molded into a cylindrical mash, it is boiled in a pot placed on a wood furnace. Wood is used to add a smoky scent and flavor to the dish.
Bags of boiled keropok lekor make their way to vendors on motor boats that cut across the river to the market. Syed says the people of Terengganu eat the snack as they buy it from the markets, but adds that tourists would do well to fry it before eating.
Shortly before sunset, residents of Terengganu gather on beaches to fly kites in the monsoon wind. Under the sea, currents pull in the waters and slam billows on the shore, while in the sky, the sun is subdued by nimbus clouds.
A hawk comes out from its nest, hunting on the waters, and many below stop to observe the predator as he banks and swoops in for a prey.
Somewhere in the horizon, a yacht made of cengal and following a mental blueprint that has been passed from father to son continues its 100-year voyage into testy waters, a quiet exhibit of its native land’s fortitude, substance and subtle beauty.
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