One of the Biggest AI Boomtowns Is Rising in a Tech-Industry Backwater
Blackstone and TikTok’s parent are among those investing in data centers in Malaysia’s Johor, known for palm-oil plantations
Blackstone and TikTok’s parent are among those investing in data centers in Malaysia’s Johor, known for palm-oil plantations
ISKANDAR PUTERI, Malaysia— Gary Goh was the chief executive of a publicly listed property developer three years ago when prospective clients started asking whether his company had land for data centres.
Goh was vaguely aware that technology companies needed computer centres to manage heaps of data, but he had never seen such a building. “I didn’t know whether it was round, was it a rectangle, was it a triangle?” he said.
But after the 10th inquiry, Goh realised the tech industry was about to spend billions of dollars on data centres in his sleepy corner of Malaysia. So he quit his job to cash in.
Nowhere else on Earth has been physically reshaped by artificial intelligence as quickly as the Malaysian state of Johor. Three years ago, this region next to Singapore was a tech-industry backwater. Palm-oil plantations dotted the wetlands. Now rising next to those tropical trees 100 miles from the equator are cavernous rectangular buildings that, all together, make up one of the world’s biggest AI construction projects.
TikTok’s Chinese parent company, ByteDance , is spending $350 million on data centres in Johor. Microsoft just bought a 123-acre plot not far away for $95 million. Asset manager Blackstone recently paid $16 billion to buy AirTrunk , a data-centre operator with Asia-wide locations including a Johor facility spanning an area the size of 19 football fields. Oracle last week announced a $6.5 billion investment in Malaysia’s data-centre sector, though it didn’t specify where.
In all, investments in data centres in Johor, which can be used for both AI and more conventional cloud computing, will reach $3.8 billion this year, estimates regional bank Maybank.
“At first glance, Johor seems unlikely, but once you double click on it, it makes a lot of sense,” said Peng Wei Tan, a Blackstone senior managing director who helped lead its acquisition of AirTrunk.
To understand how one of the first boomtowns of the AI era sprouted at the southern tip of the Malay Peninsula, consider the infrastructure behind AI.
Tech giants want to train chatbots, driverless cars and other AI technology as quickly as possible. They do so in data centres with thousands of computer chips, which require a lot of power, as well as water for cooling.
Northern Virginia became the world’s biggest data-centre market because of available power, water and land. But supply is running low. Tech companies can’t build data centres fast enough in the U.S. alone.
Enter Johor. It has plentiful land and power—largely from coal—and enough water. Malaysia enjoys generally friendly relations with the U.S. and China, reducing political risk for companies from the rival nations.
The other important factor: location. Across the border is Singapore, which has one of the world’s densest intersections of undersea internet cables. Those are modern-age highways, enabling tech companies to sling mountains of data around the world.
“This Johor development isn’t for serving just Malaysia,” said Rangu Salgame , chief executive of Princeton Digital Group, a data-centre operator that counts some of the world’s biggest tech companies as clients. “This is AI being deployed globally.”
Salgame said companies previously built data centres in Singapore because of its interconnectivity. But in 2019, the tiny and densely populated island nation put a moratorium on new centres because of energy constraints. So data-centre operators did the next best thing, which was to go an hour across the bridge.
While Amazon , Google, Meta and other tech giants run their own data centres, they also rely on third-party data-centre operators for 30% of their needs in the U.S. and about 90% of their needs internationally, Salgame said.
The third parties construct data centres, which cost $1 billion to $2 billion each. Tech companies act as tenants, installing their own hardware inside. Most Johor data centres are run by third parties, which don’t necessarily have agreements with tech clients before starting projects.
“We’re going in speculatively,” Salgame said.
Salgame said he gets insights from big tech companies before beginning projects, so he has a sense of what they want. And the sense now is they want Johor.
Salgame predicts that the Malaysian state will become the world’s second-biggest data-center market within five years. “I’ve never seen anywhere in the world come up at this speed,” he said.
The industry measures data-centre markets by the electricity they use. Northern Virginia has about 4.2 gigawatts active and an additional 11.4 gigawatts under construction, committed or in early stages, said Vivian Wong , an analyst at research firm DC Byte.
Johor, after having less than 10 megawatts—or 0.01 gigawatts—three years ago, now has 0.34 gigawatt active and an additional 2.6 gigawatts under construction, committed or in early stages.
Government officials have mostly encouraged the investments, streamlining the permitting process. Salgame said his company’s Johor center was proposed, constructed and operating within 15 months.
But the mayor of Johor Bahru, the state capital, said the government must balance economic benefits with local needs. He said it should consider building desalination plants, among other things, to ensure locals have enough water. The area has faced shortages.
“We know that people are too hyped about data centres,” said the mayor, Mohd Noorazam Osman, at a recent conference.
After quitting his property-development job, the 40-year-old Goh started consulting for potential land buyers and sellers. His specialty was knowing which sites among the plantations and swamps could be easily converted into data centres.
He found success in the Johor city of Iskandar Puteri, where telecom carriers recently broke ground on a 42-acre lot across the street from a McDonald’s. The site isn’t perfect. A hill needs to be flattened before further construction occurs.
But on a recent sweltering day, Goh pointed at the power lines and light-blue water pipes running through the lot, signifying easy access to electricity and water. “These conditions are hard to come by,” he said.
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It’s easy to buy clunkers when you’re caught up in the moment. But regrettable purchases aren’t inevitable.
Trying to buy just the right souvenir on a trip is a risky business. You can wind up with a lifetime treasure—or an albatross you feel stuck with forever.
Consider the giant painting of a chicken flying out of Cuba that has been hanging over our couch in Palos Verdes, Calif., for the past 15 years. Buying it cheaply seemed to make sense when we were in Havana, since my husband’s family had fled the country after the revolution.
But the flying chicken just didn’t seem as, well, poignant by the time we returned home and hung the 4-by-7-foot painting. No guest has ever said a word about it. “I can’t help you with the chicken,” an art dealer told me long ago when I asked for help in selling it.
So, how do you find the right souvenir? Or is there even any such thing?
For many people, the answer to the second question is an unqualified “No,” and they have stopped trying. “Souvenirs never look as enticing or beautiful as they did at the time of purchase once you get them home,” warns Patricia Schultz, the author of “1,000 Places to See Before You Die.”
After collecting rugs on her trips, then Christmas ornaments, before running out of room at home for both, Schultz says, “I have gone cold turkey. I collect memories.”
But for others, surrendering just won’t do. “It’s intrinsic when people travel that they wind up bringing a keepsake of the journey,” says Rolf Potts, the author of “Souvenir,” a book that traces the history of travel souvenirs back to the earliest recorded journeys.
“It can be a way to show off,” he says. “Much like the envy-inducing travel posts on Instagram.” But for many people, he says, “It’s proof you were there, not only to show other people but also for yourself.”
For those who lean in this direction, there are ways to help avoid regrets. Tara Button , founder of the Buy Me Once website, and the author of “A Life Less Throwaway: The Lost Art of Buying for Life,” suggests focusing on practical items that fit your lifestyle and double as mementos.
As an example, she once bought a “very affordable” baby blanket made from alpaca fiber on a trip to Peru and now uses it every day. The blanket not only reminds her of “the time pre-children when I was traveling,” she says. “It goes over my 2-year-old son every night. It’s always soft and always gorgeous.”
She has a friend who collects one cup from each destination. “Those are perfect memory keepers,” she says. “A small item that is used every day.”
One obstacle to finding the right souvenir is that it can be hard to think practically when you are swept up in the excitement of a new culture. Consider the Burmese puppet, 15 inches tall, that has spent about two decades in the closet of Liz Einbinder , head of public relations for Backroads, an adventure-tour company.
“We saw a lot of puppets everywhere and just got caught up in all of the Burmese art and culture,” she says. Now she wonders, “Why did I bring this back? It sits in the back of my closet and I can’t seem to get rid of it. It creeps me out when I see it.”
When that buying urge sweeps over you, Button and other travel experts suggest pausing to consider your lifestyle, taste, needs, and the scale of your home—you’re going back to the reality of your everyday life, after all.
But that doesn’t necessarily mean being entirely practical. Einbinder collects miniatures, mostly miniature houses, from every country, and has more than a hundred. Most are in storage, but she keeps a little London bus and a little Egyptian pyramid on her desk. For her, souvenirs aren’t just about memories, they’re also about the hunt. “It gives me something to search for” on each trip, she says. “That’s half the fun.”
Another way travelers often go wrong is by giving in to pressure, or at least persistence, from salespeople.
When Kimba Hills, an interior designer, went to Morocco, she hired a guide who took her to a rug store in Fez, where the dealers delivered a whirlwind sales pitch while serving tea. She wound up buying a $4,000 flat-weave Turkish rug, measuring about 13 feet by 9 feet.
“No one in my group could believe I got seduced,” she says.
When the rug finally arrived at her home in Santa Monica, “It smelled like cow dung,” she says. Washing the rug was going to change the color.
When she called the dealer in Fez and demanded her money back, he refused, offering to send her a different rug instead. “We got into a yelling match,” says Hills. “All my skills went out the window.”
Looking back, she says, “You are in a buying mode because you are there and feel like you should buy something.” On a recent trip to Mexico, she bought nothing, explaining, “I’m wiser.”
Spontaneity can cut both ways. There’s the chicken painting. But waiting for inspiration to strike, rather than planning to go home with a souvenir, can still help.
Henry Zankov, a sweater designer, says that when he travels, he explores his destinations with the idea that he won’t buy anything unless he comes across something he loves. He still buys plenty, but says “I don’t have regrets.” At his home in Brooklyn, he has ceramics, vases and glassware from shops he found randomly in Spain, Greece, and Italy. “I buy what I have to have,” he says.
There are times he doesn’t find anything. “So I just give up,” he says. “It’s OK.”
Some souvenirs do become the treasure of a lifetime.
Annie Lucas , the co-owner of MIR, which offers tours to less-traveled destinations, became captivated by a mirror on a trip to Morocco. It was made with hand-pounded silver and pieces of camel bones.
She went back to the store three or four times, debating the cost and whether she would regret it once she got home. It was heavy and measured 24 inches by 40 inches.
“That was 15 years ago, and I still treasure it,” she says. “If I had to get out of my house and had only five minutes to pack, I would grab that off the wall.”
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