Healthcare and batik

Have I let the cat out of the bag? Apparently, I have. In my last posting about this year's durian glut, I casually mentioned that we had been in Kuala Lumpur. Well, the secret's out now. Yes, we spent a few days there last week, mainly to chill with our daughter and enjoy a short change of scenery.

One of our first stops was GHHS Healthcare, where we had booked ourselves in for
a Tuina massage. As it turned out, they surprised me with a complimentary session on their Yunohana Hokutolite stone bed. I had tried this before. You simply lie on a stone bed while letting a gentle warmth seep into the body. Whether it works wonders or not, I'll leave to those better qualified to judge, but I certainly came away feeling relaxed. Together with the massage, we spent a very pleasant couple of hours there before heading off in search of durian at Seri Kembangan. That, of course, turned into another successful expedition.

But if I'm being honest, the healthcare visit wasn't really the main reason we went to Kuala Lumpur. The real reason was batik. 

The men in batik, from left to right: myself, R Subramaniam, Abdul
Rahman Ahmad, Chan Swee Loon, Hu Yu Kwang, Tan Bian Huat
and Christi Hon

My first brush with batik actually goes all the way back to 1978. I had been selected to represent Malaysia on an official chess delegation to China, and before we left, the Malaysian Chess Federation had batik shirts specially made for the team. It was a thoughtful gesture, and naturally we wore them throughout the tour.

One or two years later, the Penang Chess Association also thought that batik was a pretty good idea when our team travelled to Hong Kong for the Asian Cities Team Chess Championship. I was issued with a batik shirt again but after returning home from that trip, I don't think I ever wore it again. To me, the colour was simply too loud and, dare I say it, rather hideous. At that stage of my life, batik just wasn't something I could imagine myself wearing all the time. 

And also from left to right, the Penang chess team in Hongkong: 
Lam Leong Yew, Goh Yoon Wah, Jimmy Liew, myself and
Eric Cheah

Over the next few decades, I owned one batik shirt for official functions whenever the dress code called for it, but the shirt rarely saw the light of day. Batik was something I wore because circumstances required it, not because I particularly wanted to.

That attitude began to change only two or three years ago when we became involved in the activities of SAMENTA, the Small and Medium Enterprises Association. Their functions often encouraged members to wear batik for uniformity, and before long we found ourselves acquiring a few shirts that were much more tasteful than those I remembered from years gone by. The designs were subtler, the colours more restrained, and I found myself wearing them with increasing frequency.

Then came our trip to Indonesia which changed everything. Seeing batik in Jogjakarta, where it is not merely clothing but part of the country's cultural heritage, gave me an entirely new appreciation of the craft. We visited batik shops, watched artisans at work and came home with several pieces. Suddenly I found myself noticing the patterns, the colours and the remarkable variety of designs. What had once seemed little more than formal attire had become something I genuinely admired. We came home with pieces that we thought would surely satisfy us for quite some time.

Well, we were wrong. The more we looked at them, the more we wanted to see what else was available. It's rather like discovering a new genre of music or a favourite author. One purchase somehow leads to another. So while we were in Kuala Lumpur, we decided to continue the hunt. 

Our search took us first to Central Market, where batik has long been one of the attractions. We wandered in and out of the boutiques, taking our time to admire the colours, motifs and different styles. From there we strolled around the Petaling Street area, popping into shops whenever something caught our eye. We even made our way to Publika in our search.

The SAMENTA people in batik

Not every shop yielded a treasure, of course. Some designs were lovely but beyond what we were prepared to spend. More often, others simply didn't appeal to us. But that's part of the fun. Half the enjoyment lies in the browsing, comparing and occasionally stumbling upon something that seems to speak to you. In the end, our efforts weren't in vain. We found something that pleased both our eyes and our wallets, which is always a satisfying combination.

I have a feeling this won't be the end of our batik adventure. Once you've begun to appreciate the artistry behind the patterns and the craftsmanship that goes into making them, it's difficult not to look a little more closely whenever you pass a batik shop. Who knows? We may well be wandering into yet another boutique, telling ourselves we're "just looking". I've learnt by now that those are probably the two most dangerous words a batik enthusiast can utter.

P.S. I should also mention that the SAMENTA batik shirts we wear for official functions were specially tailored at the Penang Batik Factory in Teluk Bahang. It's well worth a visit. Besides the showroom, visitors can watch the craftsmen at work and even try their hand at making their own batik prints in a hands-on demonstration section. It gives visitors a much better appreciation of the skill and patience that go into every piece. I also like the fact that Penang Batik Factory continues to use traditional cotton rather than silk or synthetic fabrics. Somehow, cotton just feels more authentic in our tropical climate. Maybe my appreciation of batik didn't begin in Jogjakarta after all. Indonesia deepened it, but Penang has been keeping the tradition alive all these years, right on our own doorstep.