Sunsets are so peaceful and calming. They’re an appeasing gesture, a gentle one at that, to confirm the day has passed. I’d experienced this gratifying stillness while watching the sun departing as I rode upon the hills a few months ago. Having gone through that experience, I wanted more and this time, I did but in a different place altogether.
After a day of hiking up to the fortress at Bukit Malawati, N and I drove down to enjoy the sunset and immerse ourselves in the rural simplicity of Pasir Penampang. This Chinese settlement is tucked in the small rustic town of Kuala Selangor. Everything we saw seemed to be antiquated— the wooden shophouses standing quietly at the roadside, a number of old bicycles lying around and some golden-agers selling fruits of the season at their shack-like stalls. It was as if time rarely moves at all, if ever. This was just what we needed to break away from our rushed routines and city ways.
Pasir Penampang is, most of all, a fishing village. I knew of it only because my parents used to drive all the way down to buy the freshest catch from the river of Kuala Selangor. For anybody to do this, dawn would be the best time to trawl for the cheapest freshwater fish at the market. You could also catch a glimpse of those fishing boats carrying large, netted piles of fish that are still breathing. These fish, whether it be snakeheads, red snappers or even shrimps and crabs, would come as far from the Straits of Malacca.
Of course, we weren’t there to do our grocery shopping. We walked down to a small jetty to see the glistening waters and the sunset before dinner. Once in a while, a speedboat or two would come cruising down from opposite directions. There were other boats mooring on the water. The village and its market were always lively in the mornings and afternoons, but that evening, we somehow had the river to ourselves. We sat at the dock, with legs all intertwined, and embraced the view. The fresh air, the dusky sky, the sound of water lapping— everything just made us feel better.
When it was time for dinner, we walked away from the calming sight and made our way to the many restaurants lining up the village. We went to an old shop to refresh ourselves with these bottled Cokes. Yes, bottled. The last time we had cola in a bottle was exactly twenty years ago. Didn’t say I say this place was steadfast in time? As we reminisced our childhood drinking bottled colas, we took a de-tour from all those bustling restaurants by venturing into a quieter part of the village. Tiny zinc-roofed, wooden houses with Chinese ornaments decorating the exterior neatly lined the narrow street. Some of them were made on stilts that jut out from the waters. We saw old, abandoned boats floating nearby these homes. This was quaint in its truest form.
Our hunger returned as the sky darkened. Now it was really time for dinner. We made our way back to the row of restaurants, all of them boasting giant tanks of live crabs and fish. They were all ready to be savored, cooked in whatever style with whatever sauce you wish. Most of the restaurants in the village had nice wooden architecture to match Kuala Selangor’s rustic, time-worn ambiance. A definite haven for seafood lovers.
We simply walked into the least crowded joint and ordered stingray in spicy assam sauce with a side of fried water spinach with shrimp paste. After all that hiking, both of us just craved some simple, unpretentious local dishes to finish the night with. Our table overlooked the river and once again, we caught traces of the setting sun caught in reflection.
