Day two in KL has been pretty weird so far. Koo and i went out for breakfast to a Mamak restaurant – which is muslim indian food. we had 3 different types of roti (plain and egg with curry and one sweet banana one) for breakfast. we chatted about the usual traveller fare – the evils of monsanto and the difference in the way rain smells here compared with in sydney. the rain was pretty torrential so we were stuck inside the mamak restaurant for quite some time.
After the rain cleared, we drove into the city and explored the shopping metropolis. don’t get me wrong, i love big, dirty, filthy pulsating asian cities, but this one didn’t grow on me. something about KL is creepy… there is a very constructed feel to it… i can’t really explain what i mean without going off into complete la la bullshit land but if KL was a person it would be a robot with human skin. no aura/soul/chakras/whatever it is that makes people human and cities alive. KL has a facade, and what is underneath is incredibly un-nerving.
dinner that night was street food. i have no idea what koo ordered but it showed up infront of me. it was all unrecognisable, with none of the frills normally associated with westerners dining “authentically” whilst travelling. i borderline shat my pants and ate, and was surprised. the food was delicious, despite looking like garbage bin slop. the rainy streets of KL set a gorgeous background both in sound and smell. radioactive green formica tables, radioactive green plastic stools and matching radioactive green chopsticks in tubs a kitch relic of 70s decor which was clearly kept out of sheer not-give-a-fuck-ism of the stall owners was seriously enough to impress any instagram food blogger worth their salt.
the next day was action packed despite my intense
cue hours of non-sensical KL traffic, a cheap/horrible hollywood movie and late night restlessness in the heat. day two fin.
the following morning i woke up sick, exhausted, sweaty and grumpy. couch surfing is cool and that but i like my own space too much. despite feeling like a bag of dicks, Koo had organised 1000001 activities for us.
We went to the Batu caves, a Hindu shrine nestled in amongst limestone caves. The shrine is dedicated to Lord Murugan, son of Shiva and Parvarti and brother of Ganesha. Indian hindus make up a large proportion of the population of Malaysia so unsurprisingly the place was packed to the rafters with Hindu worshipers. being surrounded by them stirred in me an undulating desire which is generally reserved for emotionally unavailable men, modernist poetry and the crowded streets of the land where the heart is king. (you know, when you get that big fat juicy plum tasting heart that feels like it’s so ripe the skin could split and the juice could go everywhere?) whatever holly shut up – i started to get THAT feeling. it was the smell (overtones of incense, undertones of hot filth), the adult men holding hands with one another as a show of brothership without shame, babies with freshly shaved hair and freshly vibhuti’d foreheads. it was cheeky teenagers winking and head wobbling at me and young families extending a namaste for no reason other than i was walking in their path. i remember in india, arriving in Varanassi after an overnight train. the rickshaw dropped us at the edge of the old city – a cobbled labrinth centuries old and too narrow for anything other than cows, motorbikes and thousands of Kumbh Mela pilgrims. we walked the dizzying streets, the raindrops were so fine they were almost a fog. two faces peered out at us, and greeted us with a Namaste – the light in me, recognises the light in you. my soul is greeting your soul. we were invited to walk around an ancient temple to the Mother Goddess of sex, death and destruction; Kali. the temple was ancient, the idols crude and red mouthed – not the modern blue skinned incantations. i can’t really describe the feeling, but it was the first time i understood the meaning of namaste – my first proper invitation into the culture and my first true understanding of my place in it. later that night after settling into the hostel and smoking some hashish with the owner, a big boooming man in a tie-dyed tshirt – he laughed and told us “varanassi is like a psychadelic, you either love it or you hate it.” he swiftly left the table, as though this were a perfectly rehersed part he had played many times before – leaving two very stoned travellers to weigh up that pebble.
i actually don’t remember where i was, but yes. batu caves made me realise i might choof off back to India straight after eastern Europe. India, the land of the heart, the land where the heart is king. ahhh.
anyway, cue further KL adventures, a hidden waterfall which i was unable to enjoy properly due to my weird sickness inspired by substance abuse in sydney. the dip did actually soothe my fever which was nice. surprisingly for such an incredibly shocking person at being sick, i’m actually keeping the sooking to a minimal level. yay team growing up.
sweaty nap, long drive to a hill full of monkeys. the sun was setting on a river delta and Koo pointed out to me the monkey sitting in the crest of the old fig tree, enjoying the sunset. watching him watch the big fat orange sun (oh asian sunsets how i’ve missed you!) was one of the coolest experiences i had in KL. he was full on maxxin relaxxin with his hand on his chin staring out wistfully. what a little dude.
we had an arduously long dinner at a seafood restaurant, which was open air on a riverbank. i nearly fell asleep at the dinner table.
i sat in a little boat and a boatman paddled me up and down the banks to look at trees glimmering with fireflies. it honestly didn’t look real at all. my mind was kind of warping with non-comprehension. it was one of the most beautiful and glorious things i’d ever seen in my life. i caught what i thought was one, and lay it in my hand. i held a light over it, and it was actually two freaky fireflies copulating on my hand, underbellies flashing intermittently with synchronised pleasure. i took it as a good sign.
the next morning i was 110% ready to leave KL. my flight was booked for 3 in the afternoon. Koo took me to a morning market and my patience was tested. i’m never good when the finish line is in sight, i always collapse and dig my heels in and demand to be carried over it. not a great quality. I was also taken to a closed badminton court because it’s the national sport (?).
the journey to the airport was sweet – i reveled in my own company, despite a consistent trickle of sweat down my butt crack and 20c headphones i stole off the aeroplane. my flight was another air asia cheap as chips one, which i had to ask an ex lover to buy for me because my credit card wasnt working (i do have some dignity, i swear it). the plane was full and cramped and literally everyone on it had bad breath. at one point the turbulence was so bad that my malay row mates and i all held hands and screamed in unison. i looked into the eyes of the woman next to me and i literally thought she would be the last person i would ever see. i always thought a near death experience would be more terrifying, but the adrenaline was kind of sexy.
stepping of the plane and outside into the dusty, hot, khmer streets kind of fucked with my head a bit. the last time i arrived here i was with two of my best friends, i was high off the tail ends of the most blissful summer ever and headily intoxicated with Pristiq, the only pharmaceutical anti-depressant that has actually worked for me. this time i was alone, lost, sick, fat and trying to conquer said loneliness by spending six months in foreign solitude. running headfirst through the storm, as Tripodi accurately put it. the cab ride consisted purely of me spinning out in my own head. being alone for such a long time has really given me the space and ability to unpack and analyse these thoughts without being overwhelmed by them. when eric or flat sam pops up, the best way for me to deal with it is acknowledge the thought, name the type of thought, then set it aside. i’ll stop with my new age guided meditation bullshit now.
(this is becoming very stream of consciousness, but you’ll deal with it)
i got to the hostel and all the tuk tuk drivers remembered me from when i stayed here 18 months ago – clearly i am a minor Khmer celebrity.
my weird fears about not making any friends turned out to be bogus and some english chick invited me out for dinner within about 20 minutes. nothing from dinner was noteworthy, except my serious power spew in the toilets upstairs, fevered cab ride back to the hostel and passing out into a hallucinatory half sleep.
i gathered all my worldly electronic posessions and hightailed to The Blue Pumpkin with the big white couch seats, fast free wifi and siiiiickballs food.
so, here i am. daydreaming about india, writing down my thought processes and trying to make sense of my crazy journey.
Holly out.
Laters Holly 