Malaysia Oversight

In Terengganu's Kampung Mangkuk, travel finds its soul

By NST in August 3, 2025 – Reading time 10 minute
In Terengganu's Kampung Mangkuk, travel finds its soul


WHAT does it mean to experience a destination; not just to see it, but also to immerse oneself in it, connect with it, and genuinely appreciate it? It’s a question that has lingered in my mind.

Experiencing a destination is not about ticking off landmarks or snapping quick photos. It means diving into the local culture, connecting with the people, savouring the rhythms of daily life, as well as valuing the environment and traditions that make the place unique.

Listening to local stories, tasting dishes made with heirloom ingredients, or picking up a few words of the local dialect… these are the moments that deepen cultural understanding and forge meaningful connections with the people. It’s about being present.

This deeper connection lies at the heart of slow tourism and slow travel. These are terms often used interchangeably, as both emphasise sustainability, authenticity and meaningful engagement with a place.

Yet there are subtle differences between the two. Slow tourism emphasises on enriching and immersive experiences, which may sometimes involve long-distance travel or a higher carbon footprint.

Slow travel, meanwhile, places greater importance on environmentally conscious choices, whether it is travelling slowly overland by train, cycling through villages or exploring destinations on foot. These low-impact modes of travel not only reduce one’s ecological footprint, but also offer a more intimate way to explore a destination.

GLOBAL SHIFT

In Malaysia, where natural landscapes, rural communities and cultural heritage are closely intertwined, these slower modes of travel encourage a more immersive and respectful connection with the surroundings.

It invites travellers to engage more meaningfully, moving at a pace that encourages observation, understanding and appreciation. Reflecting a global shift in travel behaviour, slow travel is no longer just a trend — it is reshaping the way people choose to experience the world.

This year, Malaysia has embraced this approach. Kuala Lumpur was recently ranked among the top destinations for slow travel by Agoda, while Pulau Redang in Terengganu was listed as the third top-trending travel destination in Asia.

These ideas came to life during a recent three-day, two-night field trip organised by tourism management students from Berjaya University College (BUC). The Terengganu Educational Trip — a collaboration between BUC and Universiti Sultan Zainal Abidin (UniSZA) which brought together students from both institutions in a shared, hands-on exploration of sustainable and community-based tourism.

The programme was designed to take learning beyond classroom, giving students the opportunity to engage directly with local communities and environmental conservation efforts.

One of the most meaningful highlights unfolded on the second day, when we participated in a Volunteerism Programme hosted by the Wetland School of Setiu.

Nestled within the calm, rustic beauty of Kampung Mangkuk, the school offered more than just an activity. The complex became a setting where the principles of slow, purposeful travel were no longer theoretical, but tangible.

Our journey began when UniSZA students and lecturers picked us up from our accommodation in Jalan Kota Lama, nestled in the heart of Kuala Terengganu’s city centre.

For the next hour, we travelled along scenic roads flanked by swaying coconut trees, glimpsed pockets of tranquil rural life, and caught fleeting views of the South Sea.

SETIU WETLAND DISCOVERY: WETLAND SCHOOL

As we entered Kampung Mangkuk, the peaceful village greeted us with quiet charm. Clean, sandy lanes wound between clusters of traditional Malay houses nestled near the shoreline, offering a sense of calm and simplicity that felt worlds away from the bustle of city life.

This coastal village is home to the Setiu Wetlands, a rare and ecologically rich ecosystem where rivers, mangroves, swamps and the sea coexist in delicate harmony. Widely regarded as the hidden gem of Terengganu, it is also the largest coastal wetland complex on Peninsular Malaysia’s east coast.

Our group was welcomed at the Wetland School of Setiu, a community-driven initiative championed by the local non-governmental organisation (NGO), Setiu Wetland Discovery.

Located at the heart of Kampung Mangkuk, the school is dedicated to wetland conservation, eco-tourism, and community empowerment. Cikgu Nur Azlin, the representative from the Wetland School greeted us warmly and guided us to a designated area to settle in before the day’s activities commenced.

The Setiu Discovery Centre, nestled within the Wetland School, is housed in traditional wooden Malay homes with raised floors and sloping roofs. Beneath one of the houses, a wooden pangkin (a resting platform) is located in the cool shade, inviting us to pause, chat, or simply enjoy the breeze. The scene stirred a gentle sense of kampung nostalgia.

TASTE OF TRADITION

As the Malay saying goes, tak kenal maka tak cinta (to know is to love). In the spirit of traditional Malay hospitality, we were ushered into one of the old wooden houses, where we sat cross-legged on the timber floor. At the centre of the room, a feast was beautifully laid out on handwoven kerchut mats crafted by the local community.

The air was rich with the scent of steaming nasi lemak, served on nostalgic floral-edged plates that stirred memories of childhood. The fragrant coconut rice, fiery sambal ikan bilis and crispy anchovies were accompanied by freshly sliced tropical fruits. We ate with our hands, in the traditional way, with water thoughtfully prepared in aluminium jugs and teko containers for washing, just like at a village kenduri (feast).

Our visit coincided with the second week of Hari Raya Aidilfitri, and the festive spirit of the kampung was very much alive. I personally love the ambience in the house with its antique furniture, including a vintage bicycle and radio displayed in one corner, as well as a candy buffet showcasing a colourful array of biskut raya (festive cookies) for guests. It was more than a meal. It was a cultural exchange, a moment of bonding between students from different backgrounds.

Another highlight was a hands-on cooking demonstration, where we learnted to prepare traditional Terengganu delicacies — most notably satar and keropok lekor. These dishes, deeply rooted in the region’s coastal heritage, are made from fresh fish caught daily by local fishermen who form the backbone of the village economy.

Before the era of refrigeration, preserving fish posed a real challenge. In response, the community developed time-honoured methods like blending fish with spices and wrapping it in banana leaves to create satar — a smoky, aromatic grilled fishcake.

Keropok lekor, on the other hand, is a chewy fish sausage that has become a beloved staple, capturing the essence of the sea in every bite.

Learning to make these dishes gave us more than just culinary skills; it also offered a window into the resourcefulness and resilience of a fishing community that continues to preserve its heritage through food.

Our first introduction was to the art of making keropok lekor. We learnt that its distinct texture — soft on the inside, crispy on the outside after frying — depends greatly on the type and ratio of flour used.

Just as crucial is the amount of fish flesh blended into the mixture, as this determines the flavour and overall quality of the snack. While we didn’t get to make it from scratch due to time constraints, the experience gave us valuable insight into the artisanal skill and heritage behind this humble yet iconic food.

We then proceeded to satar making. Using traditional cooking tools, we were introduced to the kukur kelapa, a classic coconut grater used to prepare one of the essential ingredients: kelapa parut or grated coconut.

This is mixed with fish flesh, onions, bird’s eye chillies and other spices to form the satar mixture. Under guidance, we learnt to fold banana leaves into neat, triangular parcels to hold the filling. Once wrapped, we brought our creations to the BBQ pit, where the aroma of grilling satar slowly filled the air.

SUSTAINABLE HARVESTING

Our adventure continued as we ventured into the mangroves and along the riverbank in search of lokan (mangrove clams) and siput (mud snails). Guided by local experts, we were introduced to sustainable harvesting practices.

Each group was given a size-measuring board to ensure that undersized lokan were returned to their habitat — a small but important step in preserving future biodiversity.

I found it surprisingly difficult to locate even a single lokan.

After gathering the collective harvest from our group, we waded deeper into the river, taking time to relax, snap photos and enjoy a refreshing dip in the cool water. It was a rare opportunity to experience the wetlands not merely as observers, but as participants. Later, we returned to the Wetland School where a BBQ pit had been prepared. There, we grilled the freshly harvested lokan and sat down to savour a simple yet satisfying kampung-style lunch.

This experience echoed the values of the slow food philosophy — celebrating seasonal, locally sourced ingredients and traditional methods that honour both culture and sustainability. In learning how these dishes are made, we connected not only with their flavours, but also with the deeper stories of resilience and reverence for nature that shape this community’s way of life.

COMMUNITY ENGAGEMENT

At the Wetland School, we were also exposed to the traditional art of basketry. Two representatives from the village, Che We and Mek Tam, both aged between 70 and 80 years old, showcased their skills in lekar and kerchut mat weaving.

Che We is a weaver who specialises in crafting kerchut mat using pandan laut (screwpine leaves), while and Mek Tam focuses on lekar weaving. Lekar is a type of traditional Malay handicraft made from palm sticks. It’s commonly used as a pot holder, but today as a decorative item due to its aesthetic appeal.

During the handcraft session, I had the opportunity to try weaving a kerchut floor mat under Che We’s guidance. It wasn’t easy, but definitely fulfilling to be able to create something with my own hands.

It made me appreciate the time and effort that goes into traditional crafts. Though the weaving technique appeared simple in their hands, it became clear to me that these crafts require patience, precision and years of experience to perfect one’s final product. Clearly, it requires proper practice.

While guiding me through the weaving process, Che We also shared stories from her life and expressed her concern that not many young people are interested in learning these traditional crafts. Even her own children, she admitted, are not keen to continue her legacy.

Hearing this made me pause and reflect on how much of our cultural heritage is quietly slipping away, simply because it’s no longer seen as relevant or valuable?

Her words echoed in my mind as I watched Che We and Mek Tam continuing with their work. Every pattern and every thread reflect a rich legacy of a lifetime experience, knowledge and tradition.

Their dedication and perseverance were nothing short of inspiring. It was a powerful reminder that traditional crafts are not merely relics of the past but they are also living skills, vital to cultural identity and deserving of preservation.

Thankfully, places like the Wetland School help keep this knowledge alive. By inviting artisans like Che We and Mek Tam to share their skills with visitors, they create a platform for meaningful cultural exchange and hands-on learning.

These demonstrations also offer the weavers a way to earn income through the sale of their handcrafted items — often at more accessible prices than those found in typical tourist spots.

And who knows? Through these encounters, a visitor might one day be inspired to become a mentee — to carry forward the legacy of these quiet masters before the threads of tradition slip away.

VOLUNTEERING IN THE WETLANDS

From the Wetland School to the mangroves, our programme continued with an adopt-a-tree activity — a hands-on lesson in conservation. Led by passionate local conservationists, affectionately known as Cikgu Alam, Mr Muhammad Allim and his team guided us in planting mangrove saplings along the muddy banks of the wetlands.

With our feet sunken into the soft earth and our hands deep in the soil, we began to grasp the vital role these trees play. Mangroves not only protect the coastline from erosion, but also sustain a rich, biodiverse ecosystem. They provide crucial habitats for species like lokan and supply raw materials used in traditional handicrafts.

Each sapling we planted felt like more than an environmental gesture; it was a promise to future generations. A symbol of hope, rooted in responsibility. Ten trees were planted that day and we were honoured to name the ones we had placed into the earth.

LEAVING, BUT NOT FORGETTING

When it was time to leave, we left behind more than just footprints. We left behind young mangroves bearing our names, new friendships with our hosts and a deeper understanding of what travel can truly mean.

The student project may have been designed to teach the technicalities of vacation packaging and tourism planning, but what we gained was far more profound: a glimpse into a kind of tourism that empowers, educates and gives back.

As we returned to our busy routines and city lives, the spirit of Kampung Mangkuk lingered — a gentle reminder that by slowing down, we did not just visit a place. We also discovered a new way of seeing, of connecting, and of moving through the world.

That said, this experience taught us that slow travel and community-based tourism are not just alternative. They are essential paths toward meaningful, sustainable and authentic experiences.

By spending more time, engaging with the surroundings and host community we contribute to a tourism model that values people, culture and the environment. In doing so, we do not just visit a place, but we become part of its story.

© New Straits Times Press (M) Bhd



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