Walking in an “unwalkable” city

eLuttukku / எழுத்துக்கு

Walking in an “unwalkable” city

August 18, 2024

4–6 minutes

Boundary marker in the strip of rainforest between Kuala Lumpur and Selangor

Before I arrived in Kuala Lumpur, I asked a few people about walking in KL city. The general response was one of concern tinged with a bit of incredulity at the what may have appeared to be a nonsensical question: “No, KL is not walkable, except perhaps in a few places,” was the usual response, followed by “we just drive.” Since arriving here, I have learned that owning a car is relatively affordable in KL: there is a thriving local auto manufacturing industry, and Malaysia has oil. So, driving is indeed inexpensive.

My host faculty is just a little over three kilometers from where I live. When I inquired if I can walk there, my hosts warned me, “Oh, no, it is too far.” I told them that ever since the pandemic, I walk about four kilometers every day; they pointed out that it wouldn’t be the same in Kuala Lumpur: I will need to cross highways along the way, I will sweat buckets in this humid climate, and a downpour can surprise me at any time without much warning. Google Map’s walking directions carried an ominous warning, “Use caution–walking directions may not always reflect real-world conditions.” Other sources also leaned towards the view that KL is not exactly a walkable city (yet).

I ended up using university transport for commute.

I do live close to a light rapid transit (LRT) line and had figured out how to use it to travel to the next station where there is a humongous, always packed, megamall, and to the KL Sentral station from which Little India is just a 10-minute walk away where one can find good South Asian food, including excellent Sri Lankan Tamil food.

Today promised to be sunny and warm. No rain was forecast until the evening. I toyed with the idea of going to Little India or the Mid Valley megamall but decided to look at the map. There is a green patch close to my hotel; Google Maps indicated scenic spots and walking trails. There was a Hindu temple at the far end which was about 5 km away. I realized that I might not be able to walk 10 km in this heat but decided to go as far as I could.

So I set out, armed with a water bottle and a cap. There was a sidewalk even though sometimes it ended abruptly or was blocked by parked motorcycles, …

… until I came to a point where it was completely blocked because of construction. I retraced my steps until I can cross over to the other side. After only fifteen minutes into the walk, the effects of heat were palpable. Using an umbrella to protect from the scorching sun is eminently sensible!

I walked further doing a slalom, jumping from one side of the road to the other several times, to navigate abruptly-ending sidewalks,

I spotted a non-descript pathway into the jungle that looked promising. Behind it was the rainforest, the soil muddy from the rain and stepping stones looking somewhat shaky. Given that this is a hot and humid rainforest, the thought of encountering creepy-crawlies did enter my head. Growing up in Sri Lanka, my mother wouldn’t even allow us to go to the overgrown backyard for fear of running into snakes or scorpions or something of that sort. I did not encounter anything dramatic on this walk, but later I learned that this jungle does indeed have snakes!

I passed a few people, walking or jogging, including families with small children. Along the way, it seems we crossed into Selangor from Kuala Lumpur.

At a clearing marked “the bridge,” I noticed that Google Maps showed an “abandoned house” some distance away. So I took a side trail towards this house. This trail was almost deserted and one could almost imagine being in the middle of a rainforest.

A few hundred meters into the trail, I could hear the sound of not-so-small animals. This isn’t something that one usually encounters during forest walks in Finland! (Well, if you ran into an elk or a wolf or a bear, it might be bad news but it happens very rarely.)

And the ever-pleasing sounds of a wilderness stream:

The abandoned house was up a hill, and I crossed back into Kuala Lumpur just before that.

My phone warned ominously about overheating. It was time to return. The trail now got decidedly more difficult. It was a steep uphill climb, with muddy ground and loose stepping stones. But the trek was not without its charm, like this bamboo tapestry made by nature.

Eventually, I exited the jungle, back onto the streets. There was more than one car that was abandoned like this, with a piece of paper saying “Minta maaf” (an expression of apology). I wonder what the deal is.