Arrivals

I spot another Westerner waiting for someone on the same flight as Mike and I ask her how long after to flight lands do the passengers come through, as I really want to get a coffee, but am afraid that Mike will come through and wander off, lost in Malaysia… Anyway, she doesn’t know, but it’s not long before the person that she’s been waiting for turns up yet there is still no sign of Mike, and I am beginning to think that he may have got rage whilst waiting in line for immigration or something and is being detained, or someone planted drugs on him and he is currently being strip searched by a couple of eager Malaysians wearing an evil smile and a pair of latex gloves…

Suncream

Mike is arriving tonight at about 7 pm, so I need to get to the airport for about 6, just so I can find somewhere to park (the website is not very informative about how to park when picking up passengers) and I set off about 5. The drive is easy, as is parking; I wonder why I thought it would be any other way? 

Anyway, I am early and the flight is slightly delayed, so I have to hang about a bit, having a coffee in the hottest Starbucks ever (no aircon) and I get a chance to look about the shops: I need some after sun lotion, as I can feel my head radiating with the heat, and my arms beginning to sting from this morning’s session. Ah – a Bodyshop – they’ll have what I need.

As I approach, all four shop assistants welcome me to the shop with a sing-songy "Hello sir" that is very annoying, but anyway, I go to one of them (who is trying not to stare at my burnt head) and I ask if they have any lotion for soothing said head, and she points me towards some pink concoction that smelled like grapefruit and was for softening the hard skin on your feet. 

Err, no. I want after sun cream, you know, for soothing burnt heads, like the one I have got and that you are staring at! How can you not understand ‘sun tan lotion’ in Malaysia? Weirdly though, they don’t actually sell anything like that, just lots of cucumber and mint foot lotion. So I abandon that and leave the giggling assistants behind. There is a general store over the other side that sells everything, and I find some luminous green aloe vera gel, which should do the trick.

Rediculous

Mike is arriving from the UK this evening, and I am picking him up later from the airport. I've got a few hours to kill, so I head out to Titiwangsa Park as the weather is great. 

Actually, it’s incredibly hot.

I find a nice spot by the lake and watch the boating going on – with my top off (though I do have a vest on so as not to upset the locals here). I get a few people smiling at me and some kids on the horse and carts wave at the gweilo with his top off (but with vest on) as they go past.

I lie there for about an hour and then decide to head back home – I feel like I have caught the sun a little bit on my face (good!) and have been sweating like a wotsit so need a shower.

When I look in the mirror, I realise that I have burnt and look completely 'red'-iculous. 

Lovely.

Mojitos and M&Ms

The management team are over in Kuala Lumpur this week, so there's been a lot of activities (mainly eating, drinking and them getting to see the place and to know the team better) - it's been good... Anyway, tonight is the last night and the whole department go out to a Thai restaurant in the eCurve called Funky Villa. It was OK, until the band that play in the One World Hotel foyer – the Chinese Bananarama – started playing. 

They are still shit, and (worse) VERY loud. Why is that? They turned up the volume to an ear bleeding level in the bar we went to last night (Traders). Maybe they see it as having fun, or they are all deaf, who knows? Anyway, fun, noise and photo sessions over, we leave the restaurant and head (without the rest of the team) to Bangsar Shopping Centre and to a bar called WIP. The last time I went here, with some other UK colleagues, I don’t remember leaving. It was fun and we spent the evening getting merry on Royal Mojitos – a normal mojito, but with sparkling wine rather than soda water: lethal! 

We left at 2 am-ish but I didn’t really feel that drunk, so I thought I'd watch some telly when I got in...

…and woke up on the sofa at 5 am, fully clothed, lenses in and the telly on, and feeling like death. Great.

I was tired and hungover – I would had liked to have had a lie in, but Duti the Cleaner comes today and is usually here by 8, so I have to get up. 

Cliff And The Cicadas

I wanted to explore a few other places of interest that are in my guide book of Kuala Lumpur and decide to go the Forestry Research Institute Malaysia (FRIM) this morning. It’s only about 10 km from where I live, but feels 100s more – marvellous. 

I get there about midday and it's lovely and humid, with an abundance of tropical plants and the noise of cicadas adding to the atmosphere. I take a walk through the forest, starting at the Souvenir shop (where an initial misunderstanding nearly cost me 80RM – the shop keeper thought I wanted a guided tour of the place when really all I’d asked for was a map…) and into the forest, along waterfall paths and eventually back to the car: all in about 3 hours. There was a bit of a surreal moment when walking through the forest and all I could hear above the cicadas was Cliff Richard singing ‘The Young Ones’.

I was lucky actually – as soon as I got back to the car, there was a deafening clap of thunder and the heavens opened. I was a bit scared driving home to be honest, as the main road had now turned into a river and the other drivers not really slowing down, but instead formed a single line of traffic that snaked at high speed along the motorway. I had no other choice but to join in which I figured was probably the safest way of getting home.

Ping Pong, Gim Or Squasy?

The weather is nice this morning so I decide, after the gym, to head to Tasik Titiwangsa (Lake Gardens) for investigation. There are not many parks here, in my opinion, where you can just sit in the sun and catch some rays. KLCC Park is too touristy and full of people wanting to take your photograph; the Lake Gardens lacks places to sit – it’s just like a big circuit. I am hoping that Tasik Titiwangsa is different: it’s slightly out of town, so I am expecting it to be more provincial. 

I make a wrong turn from the GPS and end up in the National Theatre (Istana Budaya), which turns out  OK actually, as I get a parking space and a chance to take some photos of this building – it reminds me of the Sydney Opera house. I should make a trip here to see some theatre...

Tasik Titiwangsa is next door and (after walking in the wrong direction and ending up on a motorway) I find the park entrance: it’s lovely! Nice big lakes, with fountains, cafes, boating lake, jogging circuit, picnic benches and loads of places to sit in the sun and catch the rays…I can also come here to play a game of Ping Pong, go to the Gim or try my hand at Squasy...

Perfect – I shall come here when I want to get some sunshine (weather permitting). I walk round the big lake and decide against the second one, as the weather looks a bit thunderous. I was right to do that: the heavens opened so I make my way under the shelter of the trees back to the car and head to KLCC for some shopping.

The Goose Is Getting Fat

I wander into town for a mooch about and some lunch and I am reminded that it's approaching the festive season. With the weather being a constant hot, wet, dry, hot all year round, I had sort of forgotten that it's December in a couple of weeks and Christmas is coming. In the UK, Argos, Iceland and Coca Cola would have been ramming this fact down your throat since the end of October, but (thankfully) the same is not over here.

That said, The Pavilion has got it’s Christmas decorations up, and they are pretty impressive: though it's slightly odd to see Christmas trees, 'snow' and baubles adorning the place, with "Sleigh Bells Ringing" playing in a sweltering 35 degrees heat!

Kuala Lumpur? No. Moscow.

I have to get up early to get to the airport: I don’t think that it will be particularly efficient process of getting through to my flight…and I was right. I was slightly early but the check in desks weren’t open. I couldn’t check in online as I didn’t have anyway of printing out the boarding pass, so there was little point; there aren't any self check-in booths in Ho Chi Minh Airport. Anyway, there was a massive queue ahead of me, all belonging to the same party: about 30 what appears to be Buddhist monks. Well, female monks…so I think I am going to be here for a long time.

The check-in desk one along comes alive and displays the Air Asia AA881 flight to Kuala Lumpur, so I move to this queue, along with a bunch of Russians who spotted this before me and started gathering ahead of me there. Suddenly there is a lot of indecipherable dialogue between them all and one of them walks off, looks at the monitors, comes back and starts shouting to his Russian friends something I don’t understand – but as soon as he finishes their party frantically gathers all their belongings and start to move to the other side of the check in area. I stop one, in the hope that he understood /  spoke English, and asked if the check in desk had changed.

"Moscow?" He asked. "No, Kuala Lumpur" I replied. "We go Moscow". 

OK... I still didn’t understand why they were waiting patiently in a check in queue that was clearing displaying a flight to Kuala Lumpur… Anyway, after they had all buggered off, I was at the front of the queue – result! I guard my boarding pass and keep it in my hand until I reach Kuala Lumpur, remembering the number of times this airline wanted to see it on the way here.

I thought that I’d have the seat next to me empty on the way home, but at the very last minute this young Japanese man gets on, and I have to move my bag from the seat. Bloody cheek! He’s irritating: he falls asleep almost immediately (though this is probably pretend, remembering my time in Japan) and has one of those heads that keeps bobbing from side to side and jerking suddenly, all the way home. He ends up knocking me a few times, irritating turd, so I occasionally cough loudly in his ear and "accidentally" elbow him in his side to wake him from his lollopy head sleep.

Last Supper

After the zoo photo-shoot, I moved back towards Notre Dame for some coffee and cake and it starts to piss with rain (almost exactly the same time as yesterday in fact) so I take shelter in a coffee shop for a while and let the rain storm pass by, before heading back to the hotel via this secluded bar for a beer.

Tonight I set out to find the Quan An Ngon restaurant, which has been recommended both in the guide book, and in almost every Google search of “nice+restaurants+in+ho+chi+minh+city” but the map I have got isn’t accurate (unless the restaurant is in fact a derelict building, which I somewhat doubt from looking at the Google images and reviews from a few days ago), so I wander round a few blocks to see if I can spot it. 

Eventually I do (it was 2 streets away) and I am glad I did: the place was great – all the food is cooked on the ground floor, a bit like a food court, and then served in really nice surroundings upstairs. I had Vietnamese spring rolls, noodle soup and 2 beers for 75000VND – about £2.40! Amazing.

The food here was so delicious, I wanted more… So I did – well, not in this restaurant, I at least moved to another noodle bar on the way back into town… Well, it was cheap and healthy. I waddled back to the hotel later to pack my stuff, taking in the final scenes and atmosphere of Ho Chi Minh City, as I would be flying relatively early in the morning back to KL.


Ho Chi Minh in 10 words? 


Hot, Vibrant, Noisy, Hectic, Friendly, Food, War-scarred, (no) McDonalds, Beep, Wet

Like An Animal In The Zoo

Day two: I ate even more for breakfast this morning and managed to get a seat overlooking the river, rather than having to sit next to other people like yesterday...

Today’s exploration was going to be to the Botanical Gardens, the Zoo, History Museum, and then back towards the area I was in last night for dinner to walk about the smaller streets away from the tourist crowd. The gardens were really busy, but it was nice to walk amongst the huge palms, being shielded from the sun. The Zoo (part of the gardens in fact) was quite good – though the old deer in the paddock could have done with a wash. A bit like the old dears on Clapham Common I suppose…

I was beginning to feel like one of the animals at the zoo, as almost every child, nearly all the women and most of the men in the place would stop, wave and say either ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’ depending on which way they were walking: most asked for my photograph too, which was nice.

I plonked myself down near the monkey enclosure with a drink and watched the world go by – I was in no hurry today as my feet hurt from all the walking I’d done yesterday, and was quite content to smile, wave and pose for my fans. As I walked though to the Museum (also inside the gardens) I noticed this Vietnamese woman running behind me to keep up with me, giggling, and once she caught up with me she announced that ‘I was very handsome” and ran off. I just laughed, to which she laughed too and took photos of me.

Buy Me

City Hall

I head down DL Thanh Thon, passing the City Hall and onto DL Le Loi towards the Pham Ngu Lao area to get to the Ben Thanh Market, and I’ve never seen so many clothes, shoes, bundles of silk and other cloth in one place before! The variety of fabric is bewildering, and it’s little wonder that with so much choice of brightly coloured and highly patterned material about, that most of the clothes (particularly worn by the women) are completely non-coordinated.

Some might say fashion disasters.

As dusk approaches I leave the market and head towards the hotel along D Ham Nghi, and being careful not to fall into one of the multitude of humungous potholes, or to get entangled in any electrical cabling that may have fallen from the pylons above (!) Perhaps it would be safer to get on the back of one of the mopeds that keep asking me if I want a ride. Perhaps not.

Ben Thanh market

I thought I’d head back to the Pham Ngu Lao area for dinner tonight – it’s more backpacker than 5-star, but there are a few places recommended by the guidebook, so I thought I’d take a look; apparently there is one pho place that Bill Clinton went to, so I head out to find that. This is certainly a more interesting, and I guess perhaps more authentic, part of town with locals sitting on small stools all over the streets, mopeds everywhere, including on the pavements this time, street sellers wandering up and down the place selling virtually everything you can think of – all of this was around the Dong Khoi area, but here it was magnified hundredfold. Quite a number of women on bikes rode along side me asking where I was from and informing me that they were “Me Sale”

Good for you. You can stay that way too; I'm not buying!

I found the place that the former president went to, but to be honest it was completely packed and I didn’t fancy hanging about waiting for a table (I was also starving) so I settled for another quieter noodle bar and had more noodle soup and beer for dinner before wandering back down to the river and eventually back to the hotel later.

Phantasmal Divinities

In between visiting the Reunification Palace and the War Remnants Museum (also closed for lunch) I took a stroll to try and find the Jade Emperor Pagoda, which was a bit further afield but in the same sort of area, all the time being amazed at this city, the friendliness of the people, the noise and smells. The pagoda was heralded by the guidebook as being a "hidden piece of peace and tranquillity in the hubbub of the city and supposedly filled with phantasmal divinities and grotesque heroes", but it was not at all as I expected, having been to a number of Chinese temples in Malaysia.

Instead of being filled with phantasmal divinities, it was filled with smoke and a load of begging children and old women, all shouting Vietnamese at everyone, pestering you to give them money or buy lottery tickets. It was certainly not the place to sit and contemplate anything and I left pretty much as soon as I got there and headed back towards the War Remnants Museum, which would now be open. 

Reunification And War

Not Reunification Palace

I start by trying to find the Reunification Palace, which is supposed to be in pretty much the same state as it was in 1975 when it ceased to be used operationally following Saigon's surrender to the north. Initially I thought these derelict buildings on D Nam Ky Khoi Nghia were said palace and was snapping away when a street seller with his water and coconuts said “Palace?” to me and I nodded, looking at the buildings I was photographing.

He shook his head and nodded up the road towards, erm, a huge official government looking building. Ah – when the guidebook said that the building was in pretty much the same state as it was when the tanks crashed through the gates in 1975, I did rather imagine something derelict. That, plus the fact the guidebook said the Palace was built in 1885 was it any wonder I was looking at the wrong building?

Real Reunification Palace

OK, so now I was at the real palace (though the other buildings were actually interesting too, but they were the old police headquarters and were dilapidated). It was like stepping back into the 1960s – fixtures and fittings unchanged from that era, it gave a great picture of what the place was like. Unfortunately I was only able to see the ground floor rooms  and the grounds, as the second / third floors were closed for lunch and would reopen about 2 hours later. I didn’t have the time to hang about so after quickly looking at the tanks in the grounds, I made my way out of the palace to make my way to the War Museum. 

I am not really much for war museums, and I nearly gave it a miss, but I am glad I didn’t. Naturally the only war memorabilia, photos, exhibitions etc were from the war with America, which is understandable as this is the one that had the most devastating effect in the region. I didn’t really know too much about the reasons behind the conflict, and I guess I still don’t really, but I did learn a lot about what went on, mainly from a Vietnamese perspective (understandably) during the of the attacks on villages and camps with napalm, torching, toxic chemical attacks and the longer term devastation of Agent Orange. I felt very sad at some of the harrowing accounts of what went on and gave some money to the institute that looks after families of victims of these chemical attacks, as the effects are still being seen generations later...

I moved (soberly) on back into the noise and headed towards Notre Dame for a coffee and a sit to watch the world go by for few moments, mostly to reflect on the war stuff I'd just learned about, but also because my feet were killing me! I navigated my way back along the streets and just as I got to Cong Vien Van Hoa Park the heavens opened and I was pleased that I’d bought myself an umbrella earlier. I sat under the Coffee and Tea Leaf parasols and had a coffee watching everyone either scurry out of the rain or put on the all in one rain-suits and carry one with their business. It doesn’t last long and I head back to the Church and to the central Post Office, built by the French and looking pretty ooh la la.

Post Office

Notre Dame

Good Morning Vietnam!

I make it to breakfast (on the fifth floor) and was sat with this rather miserable looking French couple. Still, the view of the Saigon River, and beyond, was more interesting so I looked that way instead. Breakfast is included and so I have virtually everything that’s on offer, excepting the cheese and meats that look really sweaty – bacon, sausage, dim sum, fruit, yoghurt, coffee – all to set me up for wandering about the city.

As I descend the stairwell to the hotel lobby the 'beep beep beeping' of the traffic outside gets louder and louder!

Good Morning Vietnam!

Filet Pho

I was hungry and I always have difficulty being comfortable eating in decent restaurants on my own (that’s why I like the street sellers and the hawker stalls in KL) so I was looking for something quite casual to eat in and came across this place called Pho 24 – a branch of which was recommended in the guidebook – and went in for some pho bo – beef noodle soup. It was delicious and really healthy (also came with a salad of chilli, lime, sweet basil, coriander and bean sprouts), so I felt OK ordering 2 beers to go with it. 

When the bill for YND101000 came, I was initially alarmed (it seemed very steep). Without 3G enabled on the phone here, I couldn't check the exchange rate (I thought it was 1000 VND to the £) so this meal had cost about £300! That couldn't be right... Anyway, I pay up and leave – to the chorus of the staff saying “Bye sir, See. You. Tomorrow!”

Not if it really did cost £300 you won't!

Later, back in the hotel, I manage to get wifi and checked the exchange rate: it's 100000VND to the £, so the meal cost me 3 quid. Bargain!!

I Am Traffic

After a bath, change and with guidebook in hand I venture out onto Dong Hang – the main street from my hotel into the city area. I am immediately set upon by taxi, pedalo and moped drivers offering me a lift (taxi perhaps later; pedalo possibly; moped absolutely no way) but I want to walk and take in the city.

I go a few yards and this tiny Vietnamese woman dressed in what seems to be very inappropriately short dress and high heels for someone of about 60 grabs my arm and escorts me up the street for a bit, chatting away to me happily in Vietnamese. I have no idea what she is on about, so I nod and shake my head, smiling and frowning with her expressions and then she flings her arms around my neck and tries to pull me into a (her) bar for cocktails.

I decline as I wanted to make it at least 100 yards from the hotel before I had a drink and carry on passed ramshackle old buildings and new developments, through hoards of construction workers sitting on tiny red plastic chairs (the sort you’d find in infant schools in the UK) drinking tea and beer, navigating my way round women carrying kettles of boiling soup and noodles on yokes on their shoulders; all of them wanting me to say hello or to buy something from them. I loved it.

Then it came to the first road to get across – without traffic lights – so I just made like a local and stepped into the road to the sounds of mopeds and cars beeping as they made their way round me as I very slowly walked form one kerb to the other. I am traffic!

The fact that I am writing this means that I made it alive and was surprised actually how easy it all was and how it worked – I guess it was a bit of a reaction to making it across the other side alive for me to burst out laughing and I think some of the locals who were observing me got my sense of achievement and laughed too – before offering to sell me an all in one body raincoat or a ride to wherever I was going. It’s funny, wherever I was walking to was too far by the moped/taxi drivers: even though they had no idea where I was going, they would all say that it was too far to walk. I resisted the temptation to get on the back of one at this time, as I had not had nearly enough alcohol.

And Breathe...

I arrive at the Majestic Hotel about an hour later – that’s slow going the traffic is, considering it is only about 7 km.  The hotel is lovely: it was built in 1925 and is pretty much still in keeping with that era. I have to take the lift with the receptionist to the third floor and there is literally room for 2 people in it – and two small people at that. God knows how any fat Americans would get in there – mind you, I don’t expect many Americans would actually travel to Vietnam... 

Fat Germans then; maybe there is some reasoning behind the height / weight questions on the online booking form for the hotel…

The room is lovely and overlooks the river – though we are separated by a six-ish lane highway and I am really grateful for double glazing. I do switch off the air conditioning and open the balcony doors to let in the sounds and smells of the city, and close then again quickly. I observe some people crossing the road to get to the floating restaurant and I am amazed at how they just walk nonchalantly off the pavement and into the oncoming traffic, casually chatting to each other, and becoming part of the traffic – cars, people, mopeds, buses and lorries all move as one, all nimbly and (seemingly) effortlessly avoiding each other.

They get across the other side unscathed and I breathe again. 

Hot, Wet And Noisy - I Love It!

Having got through immigration and collected my luggage, I made my way to the exit (half expecting to be asked for my boarding pass again) and was met by a wall of noise, people, heat and humidity and a bank of Vietnamese women all demanding that you take their tour bus/taxi/shuttle/hotel etc quoting all the prices for everything at record speed in Vietnamese dong, Malaysian ringget and $US! Welcome to Vietnam! 

A far cry from the relative genteel-ness of Malaysia...Rather shell-shocked, I ordered my taxi from one of the fierce women in the the ticket office outside the terminal and was lead by the hand by this very lovely woman to my taxi driver.

I really was not prepared for the complete contrast to where I had just arrived from: people everywhere, mopeds everywhere, noise everywhere, madness everywhere! And all in the torrential rain. He drove me the seven kilometres to my hotel on the Saigon River, very slowly through the moped-congested streets and I am glad I didn’t hire any transport – I thought the roads in Kuala Lumpur were crazy – they are positively tranquil compared to this apparent carnage! 

The rain is pissing down as we make our way along the streets and I soon realise that this carnage has some order to it. You just don’t stop and everything flows as one almighty moving, beeping and honking motorised-cum-pedestrianised beast – everything on the streets is traffic. There are some traffic lights to give you a chance at moving at some of the larger junctions (though it does seem that these are largely ignored) and the scene is extraordinary – hundreds of mopeds gather at the lights and are all geared up to bomb off as soon as the lights change.

It’s quite difficult to describe this atmosphere – photos and words just won’t do it justice, so I attempt to use my iPod nano to record the goings on – though I expect that it still won’t really capture the true essence. I can't seem to load it here, so I've linked to it on my Facebook page until I work out how to embed it here properly...

Beep Beep Beep BEEP BEEEEEEEEP!

$$

I need a visa to get into Vietnam – and I knew this, which is why I had applied online months ago. I’d got my invitation letter from the Vietnamese government, along with my two passport sized photographs and my (rather extortionate I thought) $50 visa entry stamp fee. Even after all that, I still had to queue to fill in the same form again to get the visa from the immigration officer, who did no more that just thrust the form at me, wave me along away from her window to the ‘form filling in area’ and then hold out her hand for the $$ before pointing me to the direction of passport control to gain entry. Nice.

I did want to get into the country, so I obliged without tutting too much, but I did wonder what the point of me filling in this form online was, only to have to do it all again now. 

Flying High, High...

I soon forgot about the smell and the noise of the man next to me, and the annoying boarding pass checks, as we came into Vietnam: the view was spectacular - light fluffy clouds over the South China Sea. Amazing! Unfortunately (or fortunately, as the view from here was great) the pilot announced that we were unable to land due to terrible weather, so we had to circle above for a further twenty minutes, finally making our landing in the pouring rain at Tan Son Nhat airport in Ho Chi Minh City.

Meester Chreestopher?

I finally make it to the plane and I am sitting next to a man with gingivitis. Well, that’s the only explanation for the stench coming from his mouth. I’m settling in to my seat, and I’m just about to stuff my earplugs up my nose when an airline groundsman comes walking through the plane calling “Meester Chreestopher?” Meester Chreestopher Weeeks?”

That’ll be me then… Now what?

I indicate that I am Chreestopher and he asks to see my boarding pass! Unbelievable! 

It’s in my bag so have to disturb Meester Gingivitis and another bloke on the end to retrieve my documents, and show the airline crew. He just looks at it, nods and says OK. I have absolutely no idea what that was about – maybe they hadn’t checked it enough times whist in the airport or something. Stench-breath turned to me and said that he’s been on this flight loads and they do that all the time. Do what, exactly? Single out Western travellers to check their boarding passes throughout the flight just to piss them off?

We’re off. I don’t remember whether I’d paid for any food during the flight, but I couldn’t be arsed with it all, as you had to produce your boarding pass to get anything! What the fuck was that all about? Were they concerned that you’d materialised from thin air and you were not supposed to be on the flight? I should have made a joke about being on the wrong flight, but I don’t think that would have translated very well.

Bad Breath Bobby had a coffee and noodles and slurped the whole thing noisily for the next thirty minutes or so, so I just sat there farting silently to get my revenge. I couldn’t block out the sound of him with my headphones either, as they had just given up the ghost and no sound was coming out of the right.

Bollocks!

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, To Ho Chi Minh I Go

I am flying off to Vietnam today – to Ho Chi Minh City, and I am very excited – if not a little unprepared: I haven’t done much homework or research into what I want to do when I arrive there – and in fact the guidebook that I have got (Lonely Planet) is not exactly brilliant at giving you an itinerary, well at least if you are only there for 3 days: there is plenty of information about trips lasting more than 3 months. Anyway, I'm not that bothered really, seeing as I am quite resourceful and I am sure I can find plenty of things to see and do just by wandering about the place.

I am flying from the other KL airport – the Low Cost terminal, which is in the same place as KLIA, but is separated by a motorway, I’m guessing to keep the low cost flying scumbags away from the full fare paying passengers. Actually, it’s not bad, and a hell of a lot better than other low cost airports that I have used – e.g. Luton. 

Naturally I am really early and wander about the place and get a curry puff to eat before I board the plane to go. Well, not quite: there are an extraordinary number of security checks and passport control points to go through before I can get near the plane, each one with some inefficient jobsworth manning the station so I am quite glad I hadn’t left it to the last minute to arrive. I suppose it is one way of killing the time before the flight, but I did wonder the value of constantly being asked to produce my boarding pass and passport. Oh well. 

Karaoke Prostitution

Feel completely and utterly shit this morning and don’t get out of bed until about 2 pm, and arrange to go photo shooting in Putrajaya in the late afternoon and early evening to get some shots of the place at dusk/night. It’s pissing with rain all the way there, and I am trying to hold onto my stomach! We spent a lot of time taking photos of the architecture of the place and I got some pretty good shots, particularly of the bridges

We stopped on the way home at a very local Chinese place that was basically a huge outdoor, undercover, tent which served food and had some acts on a stage, singing various atrocities and getting the adoring crowds to place garlands round their necks which I later found out, could be exchanged for cash. I suppose it was a little like karaoke prostitution…

I had this chicken wine dish, which to be honest was a little too sweet and herby for my liking, but I ate it nevertheless, after all it was probably medicinal or something with all the herbs that were in there, which would help repair some of the body damage form last night's partying.

Marilyn, Superman And The Mad Hatter Walk Into A Bar...

Today’s the day of the work annual dinner dance, something that I usually avoid, however, I am quite looking forward to this one: and it's fancy dress. I pick up the costume in the morning and then spend a ridiculous amount of time traipsing around Isetan and Parkson looking for a shirt that would go with my outfit as the Mad Hatter, before finally accepting the fact that I didn’t need a new shirt, as no one would even notice whether I had a shirt on at all: I would be wearing the most ridiculous top-hat on top of a bright orange curly wig. Oh and not to forget the huge bow tie and long suede brown jacket!

I am quite exhausted before it even starts, having been wandering about town etc. Anyway, time comes and Lewis picks me up (dressed as Superman) and we arrive a bit early to find a few others milling about in various state of fancy dress so we get changed properly, meet up with Ali and go for a drink in the hotel bar. Mad Hatter, Superman and Marilyn Monroe all having a drink together: I am sure there is a joke there somewhere...

I was surprised how many people actually made an effort to get dressed up, and in fact it was the people that didn’t make the effort that looked out of place. On our table were Princess Fiona, Snow White, Darth Vader, the Murderer from Scream, Zorro, Anna Maria Verdugo (Zorro's girlfriend), Marilyn and me, the Mad Hatter! So the evening goes on: we are served our food (which is really nice) and the waiters keep filling my glass up with wine.  There are a few acts on, which were quite good, and I was enjoying it all the more knowing that there was plenty of wine to go down, and I’d had a large portion of it already! Funnily enough, I had to go on stage to award some prizes, which was a bit of a challenge seeing as I was a tad inebriated!

After the acts were over (including an audience participative rendition of Brittney Spears’ ‘Womaniser’) and awards for various things were given, people started to leave, so with 95% of the people gone, there were only a few die-hards left to get on the dance floor – me included – and the next thing I knew I was dancing to Dancing Queen. Oh dear…

I was actually very pissed by this point, so of course I was up for going on elsewhere and we ended up, me, Marilyn and Superman, heading to the Beach Club for a few more drinks: I have no real recollection of the evening from this point onwards, only that I thought that I’d lost my bag, but also remember being a bit blaze about the whole thing, which is unlike me. And stupid really, as my whole life was in that bag, including my passport!

I did make it home eventually, with bag (Lewis was sitting on it) and fell into bed.

Friday Film, Frangipani And Food

I have agreed to go to the cinema to see a Malaysian film tonight with Charles. I have never seen one before, and I am thinking that there is probably a good reason why. But, like with most things here, I have usually been surprised about how good things are despite my preconceptions, so I go with an open mind.

However.

Think Biker Grove meets Play Away, and that about sums up the artistic creativity, acting and directing for the film Crayon. It was not the best film in the world, but at least I managed to stay awake for the most of it…

Anyway, we go from there to Frangipani for a few drinks and I didn’t think that the crowd were particularly friendly tonight and was quite happy when Charles suggested leaving to get some dim sum in Jalan Ipoh, and we have a load of tasty fried and steamed morsels whilst satiated my gin fuelled appetite! 

Donushi

The only thing worth noting from work today was the fact on of the team walked out of a meeting that I was presenting at and then came back in again when I was finished.  I hope that it was purely coincidence...

Well at least the meeting was made more enjoyable by having these things called ‘don-ushi’. They are donuts shaped like sushi, hence the name.

They are delicious and I have 6.

What Do You Do If A Bird Craps On Your Car...?

Out tonight to take some photos around Little India, Chinatown and Merdeka Square at dusk / night time and then have food. Little India is a little bit uninspirational – all rather new and rebuilt recently – and rather sterile, but some of the lights are cool. I did think that there was already a Little India in Kuala Lumpur (not here in Brickfields) but I guess like with the shopping centres that need renovating – it’s just easier to build something new and let the old one rot before eventually knocking it down and building something bigger in the area!

From there to Chinatown and eat Bak Kut Teh at tai hau chai restaurant (translates to Big Mouth Boy's restaurant, according to the guide book) before heading over the road to Sri Mahamariamamm temple, a pretty impressive Indian temple where I walk barefoot around the place snapping photos of the insides, feeling a little bit intrusive to those that are praying, but I think it's OK. No-one says otherwise...

My shoes are not where I left them when I get outside, and for a moment, I fear that I will have to walk barefoot through the streets of Chinatown to buy another pair of (fake) shoes. It's OK, they have only been moved down the street a little bit...

After a brief wander around Chinatown, stopping to have this rather interesting (i.e. horrible) drink called Air Mata, a warm sweet black coloured drink with mashed up vegetable pulp and a fried pork skin dish at this other restaurant called Seng Kee, we head to Merdeka Square: the  Sultan Abdul Samad building looked pretty amazing as it was all lit up yellow and so are able to take some pretty good photos with the help of a tripod. We’d parked in the Central Market car park under some trees, and by the time we got back, Charles’ nice clean car (cleaned today) was covered in bird shit! 

So, what do you do if a bird craps on your car? Don't take her out for dinner again! Boom boom

Can't Stop Now, Don't You Know...

I’ve been meaning to make more comments on the various adverts and talking points that are on the radio in the morning, as a follow on rom my earlier Mad Media post. They are a good source of amusement, as most are quite pointless.

For example, there is one repetitive “public service” announcement about dealing with anger. “Been cut up by someone in your car? You    a b s o l u t e l y     must not get angry with anyone, as innocent people will get hurt. Just don’t get angry. Take a deep breath and walk away” Right, great advice…

Incidentally, he sounds like the sort of person who’s head you want to pummel in.

And another one: “Stressed? Sort out your problems and deal with it”. That’s it.  Great advice, eh?

“Suspect domestic violence? Look out for the warning signs – disrespecting your spouse, interrupting when your husband is talking and overhearing things like ‘I’m going to leave you here to die’: these are all signs of domestic violence and you must call the Police”. Apparently.

"Got smelly feet? Then you have either got athletes foot, a serious genetic disorder or dirty socks."

Where the fuck do they get this shit information from?!

And the most pointless of all? The traffic report. Everyday is the same, and they might as well just say, “Traffic in the whole of Malaysia is at a standstill.

Today I would have turned channels but they tempted me with what’s coming up for the next record... itwas supposed to be Yazoo’s “Don’t Go”, so I perservered through the rubbish announcements and advice, only to be subjected to Renee and Renato’s “Save Your Love”. ARGH.

Here Comes The Bride

claypot chicken feet

A relaxing day – I have arranged to meet my friend Keith for dim sum this morning and we head to a place called Imperial Pavilion in Petaling Jaya, which was also hosting a wedding reception in the banqueting room next door and was very busy. 

I had to laugh during what was probably the bit when the bride and groom walked into the restaurant (I couldn't see form where I was sitting) as Glenn Medeiros started to blare out “Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love For You” and all the guests joined in, mostly out of tune. If I were the bride or groom I would have turned about on my heels and run away.

Food was nice, and I even tried one of the clay pot chicken feet (well, more of a toe really) but I was a bit tired, and happy to come home and chill at home.

Cream Tea For Two, Oh And A Pint Of Fosters

Up relatively early this morning after a pretty good sleep (which I clearly needed after being up early after a late meeting and driving all day yesterday). We visit the Sungai Palas Tea plantation, and have a cup of tea and scones for breakfast, and the place is lovely – the tea plantation grows over undulating land and in the sun and against the blue skies, it looks beautiful.

It’s quite touristy and it was a good job that we had made the early start that we did: the virtually one-track road leading to and from the place was completely snarled and it was quite difficult to navigate along the road to get back to the main road again. Tour buses being allowed to come down the winding lane worsened the situation: how stupid.Anyway, we ground to a halt, not surprisingly, and we’d have still been there now had Charles not got out and started to direct the traffic, forcing cars to move out of (our) way!

Time for more tea and scones, we thought, so we headed to ‘Ye Olde’ Smokehouse again and in the daylight it was scarier than I thought! Actually, not fair – it was pretty nice really, but the owners seemed to have crammed everything possibly English they could have found into the gardens, reception, and surroundings, including a (non piss stained) red telephone box, fuchsia plants, ornate white painted metal garden furniture, water fountains and, making it almost genuine, Fosters parasols.

We were lead to the front of the hotel to have our cream tea in the sun, but actually I think we were seated there to become part of the British display – what more advertising or endorsement could they ask for than a gweilo drinking tea on their lawn?!

Almost authentic, but didn't stink of piss

Not That British, Actually

Steam boat for dinner – this is some thing I have never tried before, and is basically a Chinese version of fondue, only with soup rather than cheese or chocolate; vegetables and fish instead of bread / fruit and chopsticks instead of fondue forks. There is a clear soup on one side and a chicken hot and sour soup on the other, each bubbling and boiling away as we cook a variety of meats, fish and vegetables in them: the longer you sit, the tastier your soup gets.

At the table next to us, a gaggle of Chinese, Indian and Western Marys arrive. They are all quite unattractive, and one of them keeps glancing and desperately trying to make eye contact with me.

Dream on.

Food over, we made a brief stop at 'Ye Olde' Smokehouse, which was supposed to be very British, and it sort of was: log fire (yes, and it was lit and roaring!), Chesterfield sofas, silver tea services, various British paraphernalia etc, and if it hadn’t been for the loud and inappropriate Irish drinking songs blaring out, it could have been quite authentic. I wonder if the hotel staff knew the association with the songs that were being played and sex, debauchery and drinking… I guess not.

'Ye Olde" Smokehouse