Travel Notes
The Memory I Didn't Expect to Find in Kuala Lumpur
A change of plans, an unexpected stop, and a childhood memory tucked away for years.
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
It's funny how a moment during your travels can bring back a memory that's been tucked away for years.
On another trip to Thailand, we took a slight detour and headed to Malaysia, spending four days in Kuala Lumpur. We'd traveled quite a bit through Southeast Asia, but Malaysia was somewhere we hadn't yet explored — and it was definitely on our list.
We landed, dropped our bags at the hotel and immediately started wandering. We found the coffee pick-me-up we needed, admired the Chinese New Year decorations throughout the city, and eventually found an off-the-beaten-path spot for dinner.
Over dinner, we booked a private tour to Batu Caves for the next morning.
We left early, hoping to arrive before the crowds. Batu Caves was everything we'd hoped it would be — beautiful, spiritual and humbling.
We climbed the colorful stairs, explored for a couple of hours and did our best to fend off the monkeys who seemed particularly interested in our snacks.
When we got back to the car, our driver told us there was a change of plans.
The temple we were supposed to visit next was closed for a holiday, so we'd have to go somewhere else.
Fine with us. We've learned that sometimes you just have to pivot.
About twenty minutes later, he pulled into what looked like an industrial park.
He told us he thought we'd enjoy meeting some local artists and learning about batik.
And that's when this completely unplanned stop became something else, a memory from my past.
One of my memories of my aunt's home in Indianapolis was that she ran a Montessori school from her house. That meant very little was off limits. Almost everything could become a teaching moment.
As children, we were encouraged to ask questions. To explore the home. To look at the art. To feel the textiles. To admire the colors. Maybe even try to replicate the art we saw.
I can still picture the vivid batik wall hangings in her home. My aunt had mastered the craft herself, and she'd also collected pieces through her travels.
I hadn't thought about those wall hangings in years.
But when I walked into that artist studio in Kuala Lumpur, the memories came flooding back.
It was the colors.
And then, unexpectedly, the smell of the wax.
Suddenly, I could picture myself as a child in my aunt's house again.
We watched as the artists used small tools filled with hot wax to draw their designs freehand onto the fabric. The wax prevents the dye from penetrating certain areas, allowing the artists to build their patterns and colors.
Then they handed the tools to us.
Steve and I tried.
Let's just say the artists had absolutely nothing to worry about from their newest American competition.
They were incredibly patient, showing us how to hold the tool and control the wax, and were kind enough not to judge our inability to create anything remotely as beautiful as what we'd just watched them make.
What struck me most was how proud they were of their craft — and how much they seemed to enjoy teaching us about it.
Maybe that's why the experience brought my aunt back so vividly.
Her home had been a place where curiosity was encouraged.
Ask the question.
Touch the fabric.
Look closely.
Try it yourself.
And all those years later, halfway around the world, these artists were inviting us to do exactly the same thing.
We started that morning expecting Batu Caves to be the highlight of our day.
Instead, a closed temple and a change of plans led me back to a room in my aunt's home in Indianapolis that I hadn't thought about in years.
Sometimes travel introduces you to something completely new.
And sometimes it reminds you of something you didn't realize you'd been carrying with you all along.
Explore beyond the highlights. Live beyond the itinerary.