Kuala Lumpur day one

 Clean sheets, sleeping in, silence on the 33rd floor. Fast internet, a shower that heats up faster than I can get in. These are a few of my favorite things.

It’s not lunch and I’m not hungry so I figured I should start my day by pulling cash. 500 ringgit oughta do it. The machine spits a pile of 20s into my hand. I’m so tired of these countries not owning their inflation. At least the Uzbeks have useful currency. I bought a soda on my way out of the 7/11 with the cash machine. I left the half ringgit piece outside on a trash can. I’m just not interested.

Everything is a mall

I abandoned the Joseph Conrad novel I bought for being written in an insufferable style so I was due for a book adventure. I walked from my hotel to a nearby mall to see what I folks find. Everything is a mall here. Between the humidity and the wealth, the entirety of KLCC has been pushed indoors where the air is cool and dry. I can’t blame the locals for that. I haven’t felt humidity like this for some time, it really saps the energy. After navigating a maze of streets and mall pathways I left the bookstore with a copy of Death of a Salesman. I’m still not hungry and after some more wandering I arrive at KLCC park in search of a place to read.

There’s a reasonable amount of shade here and an unreasonable amount of quiet. For how many people live in KL, this park in the city center is eerily quiet. People are thee, playing, enjoying the outdoors but noise is curiously absent. I’m bored and getting hungry. Chinatown. There’s a Chinese ethnic group that came here a couple hundred years back and has food very unlike the Cantonese fare we see in the US. I broke for lunch in a noodle soup spot. The broth is light, chock full of thin rice noodles, and loaded with little mussels. A perfect change of pace from the last region which has no noodles and no seafood.

Mall that is old and outside

I followed up lunch with a little market wandering. Lots of crappy little stalls selling crappy little things. I’m tired, it’s hot. There’s a pool at the hotel, calling to me. I hop the metro and go back and it takes too long. Why are the lines to buy tokens so long? Why do I still need a token? Why do the trains come more often in LA? Why is the station never where I need it to be?

This place is starting to remind me of Vancouver, but with more interesting food. Clean, safe, pretty, close to nature, and mind numbing dull. I haven’t been here for even 24 hours and I already feel myself beginning to dislike the place. Maybe another night out on Changkat Bukit Bintang will solve that, probably not. At least the weather is a good excuse to enjoy a siesta.

The fare system for the metro is really starting to annoy me. Every time you want to ride you need to buy a token for your particular destination. The machine takes cash, dispenses a pile of change, and hands you a small plastic disc which you hold to the turnstile to be let in. At your destination, you deposit it in the gate to be let out. Buying these damn fiddle things takes time and has caused me to miss my train at least once. I would have loved one of the metro cards people are walking around with but it seems I’m just not allowed to buy one. Since I can’t buy a week pass I might have to switch to my American jumping pass.

Alley near a mall

Dinner was fantastic. Nasi goreng in Chinatown with a side of bothering a misplaced German girl. She also came from. India and we have a lot of commiserating to do. After dinner she’s off for a nap and I’m off for an adventure. At a local cocktail bar I meet a vacationing Singaporean who is nursing a drink on his own. We chat and conspire to go out together. The first club is a bust. The second club is a bust. The third club is decent enough to suffer. I am reminded of why I don’t go clubbing.

I’m too old for this shit. The club is full of goddamned children. As if that wasn’t bad enough, none of these people want to dance. I guess it’s time to start slamming gin sodas until I’m content with the cover charge. Calling the currency ringgit makes everything feel cheap but this is not a cheap city. My well drinks are coming out at LA prices and Europe pours, that’s a bad thing. The US and UK stand by the ounce and a half pour, everywhere else has settled at 30 ml. That’s hardly a drink where I’m from. I dance as long as I can bear and take a taxi to Changkat. The scene is weird and uninteresting. I’m hungry and tired. I ask a prostitute where to go for a snack. If you spend all night walking the street here, you’re bound to have a good recommendation. The mutton satay at the stall she pointed to is delicious and a good way to end the night.