Kempt Kuala Lumpur

I arrived in Kuala Lumpa in the early morning, and hopped on a bus from the airport before grabbing a monorail token ready to head into the city and deposit my bag. Arriving in south central India, Bangalore at the crack of dawn the previous day had allowed me a morning lazing in the Botanical gardens amidst rotund old gentlemen enthusiastically going about bizarre but admirable morning exersise routines running round sacred trees and swinging their arms frantically whilst I sat surrupticiouslt in the leaves and quietly practiced. This quick stop on the way to the airport had also given me time to briefly associate myself with KL geography before arriving which proved valuable. I had needed to hone in on destination in the actually quite large city, rather than just arriving at the airport slack-jawed and clueless, and so resolved to stay in a guesthouse for about £3 a night in Chinatown, where I anticipated the food would be good, the atmosphere interesting, but mainly the guesthouses cheap. Sailing in over the city on the monorail was a delight! If only London had transport with such a clear cut aerial perspective, I think commuters would arrive at work feeling considerably more elated, as the city looked bright and clean and refreshing from the sky. This is admittedly in direct contrast with the dusty cow strewn streets of India I had previously been resident witness to, and so the impact may have been intensified in me at this specific point in time. 

Arriving on ground level and hopping in a taxi to Wheeler's guesthouse opposite the Reggae bar, I found the city didn't disappoint and seemed serenely clean and calm even by 7am on a Saturday morning. I left my bag in my no frills room, a discoloured mint green cube with a old rickety bunk beg plonked at an irregular angle in the middle, and headed out for a mooch. Chinatown is the epicentre of cheap knock offs of perhaps the whole of Southeast Asia, and without really meaning to in minutes I'd bought a new casio to replace my malfunctioning model, a fantastic pair of convincingly crafted 'Ray Bans' fashioned surprisingly of real glass (which were inevitably dashed on a rock during a precipitous clamber up a mountain in Laos not 5 days later), and several bags of conveniently sliced cool Jack fruit and pineapple. I took a long sweaty pilgrimmage to the KL tower and resolved to ascend only half way past the Disney-esque entrance filled with glaring lights, obstreperous amusements, exotic animal enclosures and souvenier booths, largely as arriving at the top shafted you an extortionate £20, a third of my grossely misjudged budget for the three days. The views however, were uncontestably glorious and seeing the city from even higher was wonderful. A seriously extensive protion is covered in one of the largest man made city forests in the world, although ununfortunately it was close for maintenence until May. Next, I headed far North to the corner of the city to visit the National art gallery dripping in beautiful naturalistic art and an incredible exhibition called Absurd(c)ity, a fusion of old established and budding youth talent focussed on trippy and abstract themes which displayed contorted clows, weathered witches, and obscene optical illusions. It was brilliant! And most importantly, air conditioned. 

I rode the monorail back down south to centre of town arriving at the tourist information centre to find out if there were any performances in the evening I could catch. Malaysia had a notably more regimented and sensible approach to tourism than I had found in India, as it seemed very much embroiled in the city culture rather than left precariously to the mercy of ferocious rickshaw drivers and tatty laminated sheets of misspelt attractions. I'd already sourced a detailed city map from jolly attendants at a mall information booth, and the staff at the main tourist board were so friendly and informative. Despite the increased expense apparent in this city, it felt more agreeable to be helping to fuel local economy within the well-structured, well organised, and gracious tourism industry. I headed to see the sunset with a few cocktails and some baked camembert with cranberry jelly under the glistening and iconic Petronas Towers before returning to the tourist centre and family market to see a fantastic Malaysian dance performance, infused with Portuguese, Chinese and Indian styles from settlers in the past. After a satisfying stint of subtly inebriated raucous applauding, and quietly considering joining the jovial 2 year old happily dancing along in front of the audience, I reserved my better judgement and instead instigated the stagger home a little more effected by the several small cocktails than I'd perhaps anticipated given the 4 months of moderate abstinence. 

The next morning I took another immaculate, timely train service North to check out the Batu caves. Named after the Batu river which flows near 0by, the 400 million year old limestone caves became a Hindu site of religeous worship, and are now accessible by 272 concrete stairs past an enormous golden deity statue which stands proudly outside littered with grabby and boisterous macaque monkeys the locals gleefully feed despute warnings on the saftey of their young children. The site was suitably attuned to steadily drain the day trippers' wallets and more exotic animal enclosures vyed for tourist's Malaysian ringgit, and so after gawking at the enormous caves whilst recuperating from the rasping gasps of breath endured during the lofty climb, I headed back into town and chanced across an F1 street display of some seriously loud racing cars. After a disgracefully long and perpiration infused trek to the largest udercover free-flying aviary in the world, I snoozed in the vibrant and well kept park outside the Petronas towers, which rung with the pleasant din of children and families playing in the awesome water park nearby. I bumped into a gregarious Malaysian I'd met on the stumble home the night before, who had offered me directions back to Chinatown via his favourite Malaysian side street restaurant where I ordered the most delicious local rice delicacy served in a hollowed out pineapple, and who fortuitously arrived in perfect timing once again to direct me amiably to the Science centre in the Petronas Tower.

I was on my way to Dialouge in the Dark, a deeply moving awareness raising exhibition which leads visitors blindly into the dark, to experience an ephemeral glimpse of living life without sight. We bumped our way through a mock park, via a busy vegetable marketplace and along a rickety bridge, before ordering coffee and cookies in the pitch black by which time we found out that our spritely and most inspiring young guide had been blind since birth. The touring exhibition which has visited 150 cities in over 25 countires has provided jobs for over 6,000 visually impaired staff members and raises money for 3 reputable projects. It was a surprisingly moving journey that stirred deeply, and had me walking tearfully around the park outside closing my eyes periodically to judge likelihood of surviving without sight, and like many millions of visitors before I found myself in a dreamy reverie revering my eyes gratefully.

Heading for the airport on the last bus of the evening, I'd opted to arrive devillishly early for my 7am flight the next day. I had unpleasant premonitions of an otherwise troublesome fare to the airport in the early hours resulting in turmoil and possible missed flights given my luck, and so resolved to diversity the uses of my yoga mat and set up camp to doze in the corner of the check-in lounge ready for my alarm at 5am. I had inordinately enjoyed my whisk through Kuala Lumpur, impressed and encouraged by the cleanliness of the city and the ostensible joy of the people which was a stark contrast from the harsher environments of India I had left behind. I did however also somewhat miss India, its relentless chai stops, crumbling pavements and cracking the exterior of its people to find the convivial head bob endemic only to that country. But onwards and upwards, South East Asia beckons...