Where I borrow some sugar from the neighbours.

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• Entry from Kuala Lumpur

Trip Start Sep 26, 2011 Previous
Entry Trip End Feb 20, 2012

  Kuala Lumpur, Wilayah Persekutuan, Malaysia
Monday, January 23, 2012

I forgot how much I liked Indian men. Their glorious moustaches, their stitched and graffiteed jeans. Their prim suit pants, polo shirts and sandals. The way they murmur 'my god you are beautiful' in your ear as you walk past, so different to the South American machismo. The way they unselfconsciously pose – Bollywood style with fists pumped, arms akimbo or mid-point, gleaming smiles pasted on - for photos in front of monuments. The shock of dark hair, the smell of incense and the way they tsk, tsk you in a fatherly manner when they disagree with you. Who knew that Kuala Lumpur would be full of sights and sounds and people that reminded me of the glory of India? Well possibly people who had done a bit of research about the city, okay. But what was I doing all my life, not coming to Kuala Lumpur? Not reading a thing about it? Wasting my time studying Roman Empires and Greek Goddesses my GOD I was caught-up in some crazy times. But I’m here now, a delightful first foray into Malaysia.

I’m here due to totally failing to read my visa correctly, and having to book a flight out of Jakarta in a mad rush. It’s Chinese New Year, flight are expensive or full and I’m doing this all with barely two days to spare but I decide on Kuala Lumpur as the Policeman and I are going to Singapore in mid-February for the Laneway concert and KL is the next closest port. Booked across two hostels in two parts of town, I’ve got three nights and three days to fill. So first…let’s get the food part out of the way.

I head out to two vegetarian restaurants while I am in town, one very close to my first hostel, the other miles away in a glamorous shopping mall. Echoing events during my recent travels in South America the two places are, respectively, closed and closed down. Damn and drat and curses and why am I so unlucky when it comes to vegetarian restaurants in foreign cities? Is it because I’m a terrible vegan and on my first night here I may have eaten a piece of cheesecake or whatever you know, I mean it was probably not even real cheese just cheese-coloured tofu, artificially flavoured with backyard lab chemicals or something…why would I be punished for eating cheesecake…who would do such a heinous thing? Anyway. I better stop eating cheesecake. I tried to have sago pudding with mango and coconut milk tonight but it didn’t turn out to be sago pudding with mango and coconut milk, like I thought. It was kind of like that vegetarian laksa I ordered that came out with prawn and fish sticks all through it. Or those corn dumplings in Jakarta that were actually chicken and cheese. See now this is not my fault. I can hardly be blamed for ordering vegetarian options and expecting them to be vegetarian…There are more veg restaurants on the list and in the guidebook but my tourist maps handily don’t list all the streets, google maps sends me to crazy places plus I seem to walk past the doorsteps of half of these places without actually managing to find them.

Anyway let’s move on. On to roti canai and more talk of Old India. For those of you who haven’t seen roti canai before (it’s available in Aus so go and find it!) it’s basically a pulled, stretched and layered round of dough made of oil and wheat, fried on a hot grill and served with toor dahl or curry. You can get roti in all manner of ways, wrapped around curry as a sort of kebab, or with banana and chocolate as a sweet crepe, but it’s roti canai that is the popular breakfast item here. And at 1RM a pop well why wouldn’t you. 1rm is about equal to 30c Aus. To put that in perspective, a Starbucks coffee cost me 12rm (I am worthy of your scorn. I did indeed go to Starbucks again.). A monorail ticket cost me 2.30rm. My hostels cost me 10rm and 15rm a night, respectively (who’s getting rich from Starbucks, I wonder.) Aaaand that’s it for food. Yep, that’s all I am going to say on the topic. Apart from oh my gosh I can’t wait to eat more roti canai.

I am a real tourist here, which I just love. On my first day I walk to Petronas Towers, go to Kuala Lumpur tower and travel up to the 42nd floor to get an amazing 360degree view of the whole glorious architectural mix of the city. I walk back through Aid Arabia, wandering through plazas and above-ground pedestrian walks, wander through giant shopping malls filled with trees flowing pink and red blossoms in celebration of Tahun Baru Cina, checking out the beautiful Japanese cosmetics and the funky Malaysian fashion. The city is so walkable, it’s just so good to stroll. I fail to find a huge park that my map tells me is right in front of me, walk the wrong direction up a major highway and fail to find the Sentral Railway station that my map tells me is right around the corner, yes that corner…oh wait maybe not that corner…um wait try this corner…that’s it oh no wait that’s a mosque…arghh getting lost in a foreign city when it’s about 65 degrees and you are wearing jeans and just want to eat delicious noodles.

On my second day I manage to walk to the National Museum, where I make the hee-larious discovery that my tourist map isn’t to scale, and save my sanity by taking a taxi trip to the stunningly beautiful Islamic Arts Museum. The Islamic Arts Museum is filled with intricately painted and enamelled ceramics, sparkling ornate jewellery, finely engraved weaponry, textiles woven with bright reds and gold, plus books, miniature blue and gold paintings, architecture examples and smooth-polished pottery. It’s a shrine to beauty and creativity across the ages and the world this place, it’s stunning. The National Museum is also quite good, but hilariously glossed-over with a rather rough veneer of propaganda slapped over events of the last hundred years. It remind me a little of the National Museum in Cuba, which would heartily horrify the Malaysian Government. I wander past the National Mosque and hear the National call-to-prayer. I wander through train, monorail and bus stations, during peak hour.

I also explore Chinatown, near Petaling Street. I don’t know, I expected a huge dragon rolling down the street accompanied by drums, this being Tahun Baru Cina (Chinese New Year) and all. But no. Oh well. Still very exciting with all the red lanterns and buzzing crowds and hawker noodles flying in all directions. But the kway teoy noodles I eat at Johnny’s Stall are bland, gluey and entirely unappetising. I pile on the chili sauce but still the true taste of delicious hawker food alludes me. Maybe the flavour is in the meat. Maybe they left out the MSG.

People say Malaysia is great for shopping, but I’m such a poor shopper I just don’t see this. I’d love to buy some of the clothes but I can’t bring myself to try anything on apart from a dress in a cool store which in turns out is unable to be tried on as the whole floor of the mall has a NO TRYING policy. Huh. I’m definitely not going to fit into something built for lithe Malaysian bodies. Central Market, a block wide two storey market filled with identikit silk, silver, batik and woodwork stores that nonetheless glean some spectacular Chinese antiquities and gorgeous Arabic pashminas and jewels is a nice place to wander around in, despite half the stores closed for NYE. But oh how I want to walk through a couple of these stores, arms outstretched and a bottomless bag in front of me, sweeping the bronze teapots, bright pink and green ceramic dishes, ebony boxes inlaid with marble, brass fish door knockers and silver perfume urns to my bosom. That would be nice. Buying gorgeous artwork in Kuala Lumpur would be nice. Eating more roti canai in Kuala Lumpur would be nice. Just being here again, walking through a lusciously green city that reminds me a little of Sydney, filled with fun Indian men, women in black chadors and children with squeaky toys in their shoes would be nice.

But for now my arms stay tight to my side and I settle on some really average but really cheap pillow cases instead, casting a stray prayer to Ganesh, Allah, Buddha and Christ as I walk past their temples on my way home that I will return to Kuala Lumpur, a millionaire and armed with a better map.

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Fruit seller in Kasturi Walk.

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