Oh no!......I must have been in Malaysia for a while now because I am commenting on 'the good old days'.
Our local neighbourhood is a traditional pocket of KL's satellite city, Petaling Jaya, more specifically the unimaginatively named, Section 17. We actually live in a neighbouring suburb called, you guessed it, Section 16, however 17 is where we go for food, marketing, and other life essentials. Massages for example.
The central point of Section 17 is a park square which is ringed by open drains, Grandma/pa shops, noodle houses, and hawker stalls that have seemingly remained unchanged in living memory. Well, at least for the 5 months I have lived in this hood. In more exotic locales around the world it would be called a plaza. Section 17, as could be presumed from the name, is not exotic, however this should not detract from its unique and particular charms.
The charm is certainly not historical in nature. Petaling Jaya, at most, 50 years old, is an example of post WW2 (sub)urban planning, Malaysia style, as people branched out from the KL inner city to the wide western expanses. The charm lies in sitting down for a bowl of pan mee spicy soup with pork innards and ikan bilis in a open air night market perched on a plastic, backless chair, elboes rested on wobbly plastic table that you share with several other strangers, sweat dripping down your forehead as a result of the 30 degree temperatures, 95% humidity and an additional chillispice factor of 10 degrees for good measure. It lies in nipping down to the kopitam on the square corner by 12 on the dot to get the best char siew in PJ. The owner who looked well past retirement is legendary in these parts and his wares sell out by 1230.
Last night I passed the aforementioned kopitam and was horrified to see it gone. In its place was a monstrosity. A most heinous affliction that is without doubt threatening Malaysia's cultural heritage.
A franchised kopitam. Its name escapes me, suffice to say there are several big names around who are apparently proving successful in spreading their evil scourge on the Malaysian landscape.
These places are hideous, with their pristine photos of old style kopitams adorning the walls. Generically uniformed staff with notepad and pencil to write your order. Chairs so comfortable that people were dozing in them. Jets of spray sending a soothing mist over the patrons as they sip kopi ice, for which they were charged twice as much as the previous establishment. And the scary thing was that the place was full. To the rafters. Malaysians are undeniably aspirational. They want gleaming, shiny, modern things. And places such as these are meeting the demand. What happened in the old days was that the old man owner would pass the business on to his children. In this day and age, the children would rather work for investment banks then slave away in a coffee shop - of course. So in steps the franchise.
Where are my pipe and slippers!
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