I'm starting this post from Red Planet Hotel in Manila, the Philippines. Andrej sleeps quietly in the bed to my right, a fan whirs above me and city lights filter in through the gauzy curtains to my left.
I've been up since four am and have another early morning flight to catch tomorrow, so I should probably/definitely be sleeping, but...
... but I'm wide awake. Relishing. The breeze from the fan. The temperature that doesn't immediately reduce me to a puddle of smelly sweat. The lack of ruthless mosquitoes and flatulent old Asians. The knowledge that my friend sleeps in the bed next to mine, and I get to spend the next two weeks with someone who knows me.
I am also relishing the bed. I'm knackered, but don't want to sleep because it would be difficult to appreciate the opulence I've fallen into whilst unconscious.
This bed is luxurious. Simply sumptuous. Voluptuous pillows, silky smooth sheets, a mattress that doesn't bruise my hips and rib cage.
Andrej says that the beds are normal.
I tell Andrej that he didn't recently spend a month sleeping on wooden planks in Nepal.
My bus from Malacca to Kuala Lumpur left the station at 8:30 on Tuesday morning. I grabbed a quick breakfast from a cheap Indian place across the river (because I could actually recognize a few items on the menu), then boarded my bus. As there's scant highway traffic in Malaysia this time of year (everyone's eating deep-fried god-knows-what with their families), the three hour journey was reduced to two. Which is lucky, because I needed that extra hour to navigate the city jungle that is Kuala Lumpur.
My couchsurfing host, a Malay photographer named Nazdim, met me outside of Sentral Station at around 12:30. I hadn't planned to couchsurf in Malaysia, but Nazdim had sent me such a personal invitation that I chose to cancel my hostel and confirm with him. His easy smile and relaxed personality immediately made me feel welcome, safe, relaxed.
Super. So not like Manish, the Nepali couchsurfer in Kathmandu who was controlling, drove me around drunk, complimented my beautiful eyes and pointedly asked how I felt about marriage. I'm glad I gave couchsurfing a chance in Malaysia.
Nadzim also sports some of the most remarkable dreadlocks I've ever seen. Which gave him approximately a hundred and seven extra awesome points in my book.
And his apartment complex rises out of a jungle. There aren't enough awesome points for this.
I didn't see much of Kuala Lumpur during my first afternoon, but I was able to meet a lot of good people. Which my desperately lonely, post-Kiwi self sincerely needed. Nadzim's other couchsurfer, a twenty year-old girl from Innsbruck who had just finished a journey through India, prepared lunch. Then we set off with some of Nadzim's friends to spend the afternoon at a climbing gym.
Since the gym was a bit too expensive for this vagabond's meager budget, and as my knee's still not quite up to climbing, I chose to simply watch my new friends play on the walls and plummet onto the pads.
It's good to be with people again. Malacca was beautiful, but those five days... were so fucking lonely. Deary. Confined. Even for an introvert, spending five days with just me, my thoughts, and the farting Old Asian was a challenge.
Nadzim and the Austrian weren't eager to explore Kuala Lumpur the next day, so I set off into the jungle city alone on Wednesday morning. Thankful that googlemaps allows me to be so independent -- to not need people to show me around.
I have one day in this city. I'd better use it.
My first stop was Thean Hou Temple, a six-tiered temple opened in 1989 in honor of Mazu, goddess of the sea.
Kuala Lumpur transforms into a scorching, suffocating sauna as the early hours fade away. The air feels heavy with pollution. Sweat drips from my forehead, forms a nasty puddle in my bra, and my tank clings to my low back.
It's all very flattering.
I've got another month and a half of this blistering heat. Two weeks in the Philippines with Andrej and a month in Chiang Mai. I usually try to escape winter... but this is a bit overkill, I think.
 |
| To me, this feels like Kuala Lumpur. Concrete poured over jungle, and jungle fighting its way back through. |
I discovered Petaling Street after spending a couple of hours comprehensively lost in this dense, modern, diverse city.
Googlemaps... I think you're great and all that... but you do a disastrous job letting me know which streets I can walk and, you know, survive. And which streets have no sidewalk, no shoulder, and suddenly turn into chaotic overpasses with heaps of cars speeding by at 75 mph.
Come on, Google.
Petaling Street was bustling with vendors selling produce, fried god-knows-what and hippie pants.
THIS. This is why I don't buy food I can't recognize in Malaysia.
I ogled the drinks menu long and hard, hopeful that fresh raw fish porridge wouldn't find its way into a frozen dessert, but not entirely certain. Finally, a total stranger hurried by, noticed my overwhelmed expression, and took a moment out of her day to point at a drink and say, "This one is good."
"Thank-you!" I beamed.
It was good. Quite good. And I haven't the faintest inkling what it was. For all I know, it could have been pureed, iced frog legs.
Kuala Lumpur is bursting with beggars. Not to the level of Kathmandu, but certainly to a level that makes me feel heavy. With sadness, helplessness, anger. The emotions that seem to weigh the most.
That's the main thing I miss about working at a homeless shelter. When I saw people sleeping on the streets in Grand Junction, I knew how to connect them to resources. I was in a position where I could reach out and help. I could make some sort of difference on a daily basis.
And now?
Now I just feel heavy.
61 percent of Malaysia is Muslim, so I hear the haunting call to prayer every few hours.
Twenty percent of Malaysia is Buddhist and about six percent is Hindu. So I happen across tiny temples, tucked into alleys and hidden in tree trunks.
Ten percent of Malaysia is Christian, so I find the occasional church.
 | |
| Next to the skyscraper, this perfectly average sized church looks like a doll's house |
It was late afternoon. My feet ached, I was soaked with sweat and I'm sure I smelled spectacular. But I didn't really care. I was otherwise occupied with feeling immensely proud of myself. 'Cos this homeschooler had just survived seven hours of causally strolling through a strange Asian city of nearly 1.6 million people.
So, satisfied and spent, I meandered slowly through the rolling, overgrown cemetery about fifteen minutes away from Nadzim's place. Contentedly minding my own business. As I'm in the habit of doing.
This is when I heard the first cheerful, slurred, “HELLOOOOOOO!”
“Hello!” I bellowed back, amusement etched into my sweaty face.
I love how people say hello in Malaysia. They seem to say hello just for the sake of hello. Not for the sake of, "Hello, you want buy bananas? I make for you very good price. Special price. Bananas? Hello? Lady?"
“How are you?” the sloshed voice drifted towards me from the patio of a small, dirty bar.
“I’m great! You?”
“Good! Come drink with us!”
“What?”
“Come have a drink! Happy New Year!”
“Umm… okay!”
Why not? Why not have drinks with strangers in a dodgy bar in a cemetery in Kuala Lumpur?
"You want beer?"
"Well..."
"Whiskey?"
"Okay, I'll take whiskey. Thank-you."
"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" the man poured me a drink and toasted my glass.
"Happy New Year!"
"Where you from?"
"Colorado. United States."
"Oh, America!"
"Yup," I hung my head a little.
Gosh, it's such a bummer to feel ashamed of where you're from. Especially when absolutely nothing your home is currently infamous for resonates with you at all.
"Where you going? It's dangerous here. People. They steal your things. Your backpack. Your wallet. They take," Sloshed warned me.
"Well, I haven't got much walking left. I think my host lives about fifteen minutes from here," I held out Googlemaps for Sloshed to see.
"It is so far," Sloshed exclaimed. "You cannot walk. I will drive you."
"You will not drive me. I'll walk. You're drunk," I said firmly, but with a teasing smile.
"Are you happy?" Sloshed asked.
"What?"
"Why you drink so slow?"
Oh... happy must equal drunk.
"Because I like whiskey."
"Drink! Happy New Year!" Sloshed clinked my glass.
"Do you think Malaysians are good looking?" an older fellow (and designated wingman) sitting behind Sloshed began an awkward interrogation.
"I mean... umm..."
"Do you find him good looking?" Wingman motioned to Sloshed, just as Slosh's phone began to vibrate.
WIFE
-- was the name that appeared on the screen.
Sloshed didn't answer his insistently, persistently vibrating phone.
"What did you do in KL today?" Sloshed shoved the incriminating device into his pocket and turned to me.
"I just walked," I sipped my whiskey. Which had been refilled for the fourth time. "I walked for seven hours."
"Your legs are so powerful," Sloshed exclaimed, leaning in close. "When can I see you again?"
"I leave tomorrow morning. Maybe I'll be back next year."
"Next year?" Sloshed looked devastated. "How old are you?"
"27."
"Is it a joke?" Wingman peered at me curiously.
"No joke," I said, laughing anyway.
"I have to go," I finished the fourth drink and rose from my chair. "This was super fun. Thanks for inviting me to share this with you."
"No, stay," everyone at the table protested. "HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
"Thanks, but I really have to go. If I drink more, I won't be able to walk home."
"One more. Just one more. Give me one good reason why you can't have more."
"I won't be able to walk home?"
"One more... Please, one more."
"But if I agree to one more now, you'll just say "one more" later," my words began to blend together. "After I finish this "one more."
"This is the last one, I promise," Sloshed gave me his word. Although I still insisted on shaking his hand.
"Where you go tonight?" Sloshed asked.
"Some rooftop bar with my friend," I replied. "And now, I'd better be going. Thanks so much for the drinks."
"No, stay... one more..."
I chuckled the whole walk home, clutching my belly, drunkenly skipping and doubling over in hysterics.
How does this happen to me? BAHAHAA! POWERFUL LEGS! Hehe...
Nadzim took the Austrian and me to a rooftop bar for the sunset that evening.
And then we continued our drinking shenanigans at street level, 'cos it was lady's night in Kuala Lumpur, and drinks were free for the Austrian and me.
What a nuts last night in Malaysia. I'm going to have the most hilarious memories of this place. Oh dear. Powerful legs. Oh my.
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