Cheat

It’s a pot luck / cook-off today in the office: the men were invited to the challenge of preparing something delicious to eat and bring it in for the ladies. I mention the fact to one of them that I have not had any time to do anything as I had been away all weekend in Bangkok, and was out with the new site Director last night, so I am going to duck out. He gives me a look that makes me feel I have let everyone down and the team were really looking forward to my offering, as I am the guest of honour...

Bollocks! I think quickly and send an email to some of the girls in the office to see if they can help me out, e.g. by taking me to a restaurant to get some take-away. 

Not one of them answers, so it looked like I am not going to get away with this! Anyway, one of my allies comes to my rescue and agrees to accompany me to Restaurant City Star, where I asked them to fill the bowls that I’d bought from my kitchen with fried rice and marmite chicken. 

I bring the bowls of lovely hot freshly prepared 'home-cooked' food back to the office, pretending I’d cooked it. Of course, no one believes me, especially when it came to revealing the ingredients! But it was delicious. 

And at least I made an attempt to hide my cheating: someone bought in a load of curry puffs in a box with the shop name on, and someone else bought in a bucket of KFC!

I Don't Care, Take Me Home

I (obviously) made it through in time for my flight and got back to KL and into a taxi who then proceeded to tell me that the fare I’d paid for upfront at the taxi office was not enough to get me home, and we argue about that: I told him that I gave my address to the counter clerk, and she gave me this ticket, so it was not my fault. In fact, it was the same price as I have always paid whenever I get a cab from the airport. He was having none of it and got out the car – I didn’t.

Eventually he dragged his supervisor over and I went through the story again, but said that if I had been mis-sold the ticket, then I would pay the extra 10RM (£2), just hurry up about it and take me home. The driver tried to engage me in a conversation about where the fare changed (near the International School in Mont Kiara) but I ignored him; I was not interested, and when we drove past said school, he pointed out that the fare had now changed, and I felt like ripping his head off. 

Queue. Queue. Queue.

I'd been warned that there would be massive queues at the airport, which I sort of took with a pinch of salt, but it was actually a good idea that I’d got there early: even though I’d checked in online, I still had to queue for ages in a seemingly stationary line to drop my baggage off. Naturally, out of the 3 positions dedicated to dropping off luggage, only 1 was open. I was cursing the Air Asia girls who were standing about the self-service check-in kiosks, helping people check-in quickly – to what purpose? What was the point of speeding everyone through the kiosk process when you then had to queue up forever to drop your baggage off? Gits.

Finally, one of them directed my end of the queue to another line, which was showing ‘Check-in for Ho Chi Minh City’, so I questioned her. She assured me that it would be fine, but I imagined never seeing my luggage again and was tempted not to move (plus I thought that the minute I move from the queue I was in, it’d clear and I’d just be stuck in another one, sending my snaffled Mandarin Oriental shower gels and soaps to Vietnam). When I got to the desk, she looked at my ticket and I am sure she was about to tell me that this line was for Ho Chi Minh, but I think she could sense my annoyance at having to stand in line for about 45 minutes so far and just took my baggage (labelled KUL – I checked) and gave me my boarding pass.

As I turned to head towards Departures I noticed, and ignored, another huge queue and followed this other couple towards the immigration hall and passport control, only to realise slowly that the queue I’d ignored was actually the queue to get into the immigration hall and was snaking round the airport. I panicked as my flight was in about 2 hours and this did not look like it was moving fast. I asked one of the guards at the entrance to the hall (which was packed and a bit chaotic as people tried to get to the quicker moving passport control line) if there was a problem, and she just shrugged and pointed me towards the end of the long, long line. Bitch.


Actually, it moved really quickly, and for your entertainment there were television screens showing you all the people in the queue on the inside of the immigration hall – I thought that was quite funny.

Roses Don't Smell Like That

Just along the river from where I emerged from Chinatown there is Pak Khlong Talat, a massive fruit and veg market on the river, which was fantastic, and after wandering about looking at massive piles of limes, shallots, chillies and other ingredients that’ll end up in some delicious curry later, I found the flower market and walked through masses of flower stalls with colours bursting everywhere.

As I wandered through the roses section, I thought it was a bit odd that there was no scent, so I leant into one of the bundles wrapped in newspaper and had a big sniff. Nothing, well, excluding the smell of rotten eggs that seemed to be getting stronger the further I walked into the market.

I’d walked ages by this point and was almost up back at Wat Pho, where we’d had the massages yesterday, so I went back to the café we’d been to before and had lunch before going to the Siam Museum, which would have been excellent if you were a 12 year old kid. I didn’t understand most of what was going on in there either as it was pretty much all in Thai.

My flight was at 6 pm, so I made my way back to the hotel via the riverboat and checked out before getting my cab to the airport.

All Closed

I make my way from the Golden Buddha to find Chinatown and I was stopped by a local guy who asked me where I was going, having told him that I didn’t want to buy his shoes, even if mine did look uncomfortable to him, so I told him ‘Chinatown’.

“It’s closed”, he said, shaking his head.

“Closed? Chinatown is closed? The whole of Chinatown in closed?” said I.

“Yes. Nothing open today. No people. Sunday. Come with me my shop instead”

OK, yes, I’ll do that. I’ll believe him that one of the busiest parts of the city was shut… Not.

I pointed out the fact to him that I could see open shops and crowds of people buying things from these open shops, but he insisted that nothing was open and it would be a mistake to go. So I just laughed and walked off and immersed myself in the tiny narrow streets around Thanon Yaowarat and eventually got as far the river having walked though throngs of people and stalls selling all manner of crap and weird looking food, ending up at the Memorial Bridge where the remains of the night market were being cleared away. 

Golden Buddha

Up reasonably early this morning, and have a look through the guidebook to see where I can explore today, and then get ready using all the luxurious bathroom products (of which I am planning to steal the lot of). I make a rough plan to see the Golden Buddha, Chinatown, go to a museum and find the flower market, so I venture out on foot into the streets of Bangkok.

Being a Sunday it was really quiet, and I was pleased that it was not like other cities that I’ve been to where local people hassle you constantly to buy their goods / services / children, so was able to amble leisurely in the morning sunshine taking photos of the place, as I wander to Wat Traimit – the home of the Golden Buddha.

I have seen a lot of Wats now, and there is a danger of becoming blasé about the temples and their beauty, with sensory overload as you gawp at the amazing intricate structures, gold, silver, blue and emerald coloured glass decorations, but this one is beautiful and the Golden Buddha is pretty bloody fantastic. 

Cocktails On The Roof

We get a boat back to the hotel - and there is an annoying Irish turd that just seems to want to tell everyone when their stop is and I try to ignore him as he asks me where I am heading. Someone else made the mistake of saying Oriental and he tells him it’s stop No. 1, and we are at stop No. 6. So that’s another 5 stops… Yes, we get it, now shut up.

Kerrie’s booked us in the State Tower 64th floor for drinks first and then followed by dinner on the 52nd floor of the same tower. All thee plans may have gone to waste, mind, as I don’t have any smart shoes with me, and the concierge have already told me that Converse type shoes would not be acceptable. I ignore this and say that we ought to try anyway, as there’d be nothing to lose.

We get in (I am not surprised) and I am so glad we did. The cocktail bar is on the roof and the very polite sawadee-karping staff led us to a table overlooking the city. They are very careful to point out all the steps in the very dark bar, to a table overlooking the city, and I do wonder why they don’t either just turn up the bar lights to you can see the steps, or do away the steps altogether – they do seem rather pointless.

The view is breathtaking and we have cocktails as the sun sets over Bangkok. Marvellous!

Dinner’s not for another 30 minutes after we finish those cocktails, so we head to another bar, also on the same floor, but on the other side and get a great view of fireworks that are going off about the city. Amazing. As is dinner – the restaurant is an a few floors down and you have to walk across this suspended glass walkway to get to it – all lit up blues and purples as you walk across! We go for the tasting menu and have a great variety of Thai cuisine – spring roll, shark fin soup, filet steak and foie gras and a passion fruit desert that were all completely delicious. And so they should be for the price...

I didn’t care about the money actually, it was great spending the evening in a fancy restaurant with Kerrie – we’d had such a lovely day and this was a brilliant end to a great day. Well, almost – we have a final cocktail on the 64th floor before heading back to the Mandarin where Kerrie’s sister’s driver is picking her up.

Reclining Buddha, Massage And Cake

After lunch we head to Wat Pho – a much quieter set of temples and to the Wat Phra Chetuphon – that houses the immense reclining Buddha. I have never seen anything like this in my life and let out an audible gasp at his sheer gold leaf covered size. The rest of the grounds are lovely too, all restored recently to their original glory and looking amazing. Again, with the constant gawping, looking up, photo taking and walking in the heat we were getting a bit weary.

Time for a massage! Where else better to have a Thai massage than here, in Bangkok. The hotel spa was offering traditional massages for about 25000 Baht (£500), so that was out of the question. Around where we were (though actually very difficult to find) was the Thai massage school, which offers massages for a fraction of the price at the Mandarin, so we walk up and down these small lanes trying to find this place, and (with the help of a local) eventually we do.

Even though I have broken my ‘phobia’ of massages with the Balinese one I had in Langkawi, I am only game for a 30 minute Thai one – I have seem the various caricatures advertising massages on the streets, with legs behind heads etc. We are led into a large room with a load of beds and other people being pummelled and pulled about and are invited to lie down amongst them all (not quite the Mandarin, I expect).

Very soon my masseur expertly un-knots all my tension in my shoulders and back and pulls me about a bit on the bed. It was bliss – there were a couple of points where I wanted to punch him in the head as he dug his fingers into my legs, but overall it was great. As he moves his hands down my back to my arse I am trying not to giggle as I think I am going to fart. Mind over matter… and I avoid trumping, which would have totally upset the ambience in this extremely chilled out room.

Muscles all worked over, we head back to a café we’d spotted on the quest to find the school and have a coffee sitting on the river in the sun. We were about to leave for the hotel to freshen up for tonight when Kerrie mentions that the cafe does lovely cakes, so we stayed a bit longer and indulged ourselves in a calorific feast of caramel cake and blueberry cheesecake. Yum.

Hat Haggling

After wandering around the Grand Palace for an hour or so, visiting the numerous buildings, museums and Wat Phra Kaew (houses the Emerald Buddha) we head back to the marketplace area for a bit of lunch and I invest in a ridiculous hat, which I haggle the stall owner down from 200 to 100 Baht (£2) which makes me feel self conscious and buy a second one that is slightly more trendy. The bitch seller in the second stall was not having anything less that 200 Baht for her hats and got shitty with me when I tried to haggle the price down. £4 it was then.

Grand Palace

I meet Kerrie in the hotel reception and we head down to the boat terminal (Oriental, No. 9) to get the Express Boat up into the Grand Palace area. It’s great to see her and I am sure we are going to have a great day. The boat takes forever to come, so we decide to get one of the private Mandarin Oriental boats that seem to be going our way from the hotel’s private jetty, and make our way back to the hotel to investigate… but

a)    I don’t think the hotel thought we were guests by the way they looked us up and down and said they were for hotel guests only

b)    It cost 800 Baht per hour to hire, and you had to hire them for the duration.

c)    There was a dress code for the boats, and I didn’t meet it.

So we head back to the Oriental Jetty to wait for our less private Express Boat, which actually arrived pretty soon. The boat trip was such a good idea as apparently the traffic is completely gridlocked all the time (according to guidebook, though I didn’t notice it particularly busy when I went out for my walk this morning) – It also has a great view of the river and we pass Wat Arun, probably one of the most instantly recognisable Temples in Thailand. We get off at Tha Chang, the nearest jetty to the Palace, and walk through a bustling marketplace to get to the Grand Palace. I had been warned by Charles, and the concierge, and by the guidebook that everyone will lie to me here and tell me that the Palace is closed, before telling me that instead I ought to go with them instead, inevitably ending up in a family run business buying all sorts of shit.

This didn’t happen at all – and I was a bit disappointed, as I wanted to go along with the con and go “REALLY??? The Grand Palace, over there, with swarms of people going in and out the main entrance is closed. REALLY???” In fact, the only things that various people commented on was my lack of long trousers, and that I’d need to buy some from them to get into the Palace. Luckily for me, but not for them, I had packed my jeans to change into in the event that I needed to cover up my lovely legs.

The Grand Palace is exactly as described: absolutely amazing and it’s shimmering gold, emerald, glass, silver etc blew me away. I got a bit of a neck ache as I wander about the grounds, looking upwards most of the time, at the sheer size and intricate nature of the buildings.

Sawadee-Krap!

We eventually pull up to the Orient Hotel and I was expecting an old grandiose 19C building, but instead we were in front of a bland 1980s looking hotel – fearing that the lady-boy loving cab driver had taken me to the wrong place, I was about to kick off, when the car door opened and a very smart bell boy peered in and welcomed me to the Mandarin Oriental. Sawadee-krap!

I paid the driver, and gave him 200 Baht for a tip, not realising how much that was, but thinking it was something on the lines of 40p – I was pretty sure the rough conversion was divide by 500. The concierge and hotel staff we falling over themselves at all the new arrivals, bowing with their hands together under their chin and singing “sawadee-krap” continuously. Love it, and am very glad I booked this place.

We complete check-in in the hotel room (fabulous, room overlooking the river) and I relax with room service (tom yaam goong and a spicy pomelo salad) and take a look at the guidebook again to get my bearings. Kerrie has sent a few messages via email to make arrangements for tomorrow: meeting at the Grand Palace at 9 am (!) and ending up with cocktails and dinner in one of the fancy skyscraper hotels. I am a bit shocked at the early start, but I guess to avoid the crowds and heat, this is necessary.

I check the exchange rate and realise that I am a factor of 10 out, so my salad and soup that I thought had cost about £2 actually had cost me £20. Woops. 

I Like Ladyboy

I get my luggage and head for a taxi to take me to the Mandarin Oriental, my home for the next 2 days. I go for the nearest taxi stand, which is probably not the best idea, but I really can’t be bothered to fart about trying to find a cab that may rip me off, according to the guidebook, and I tell them I am going to the Mandarin Oriental.

“Ah, The Orient”

“No, the Mandarin Oriental”

“Yes, yes. Come, come. The Orient.”

I am not convinced that I am going to be taken to the right hotel and as the journey approaches about 40 minutes, in what seems to be in a direction away from what looks like the centre of Bangkok, I am starting to fret...
To ease my worries, the taxi driver strikes up a conversation.

“So your hotel The Orient? Very far. Big tip.”

“Umm, actually it’s the Mandarin Oriental. Here ”

“Yes, yes. Very far. You married?”

“No, I’m not married. Are you?”

“No I like lady boy. Hotel very far. Big tip.”

Why do I attract strange people?

Passport C*ntrol

I get to the immigration area and it’s carnage: people everywhere and even though most of the desks appear to be open, no-one appears to be going through. I, of course, have joined the queue which is moving the least, but at least there are two immigration officers at the end, so when they finally start to let people through, my line should move fairly quickly.

One of the officers looks down the queue, mutters something to his colleague and shuts his counter. Bastard!

His colleague seems to be an idiot too, and the queues either side of me (in fact all the queues) now appear to be moving whilst mine stays still. I am tempted to move, but I just know that as soon as I do that, my original will evaporate. When I get to the front (still keeping a pleasant demeanour about me, as you never know what these bastards will do if you upset them) I understand why it’s taken so long (about an hour) to get here: he’s a complete wanker! 

Bangkok Bound

I am flying off to Bangkok tonight, and so I have to leave work early to get to LCCT early: I was chatting to people at work and friends who all said that I really ought to check-in online and get there really early because the crowds on a Friday would be horrific and there are no check-in desks anymore etc etc.

Anyway, having sailed through check-in (no queues) and dropped my luggage (again no queues) I had time to buy some new Diesel shorts (alas there were no pants in my size apart from those disgusting thong things), and have plenty of time to relax, have a frozen frappocino thing in Starbucks before making my way to the gate. 

The airport was the quietest I'd ever seen it..! That’ll teach me to take ‘advice’ from locals with large spoons of salt. 

Annoyingly, I am sat next to someone on the flight that eating a packet of peanut M&Ms incredibly loudly, first crunching, then sucking the peanut bits through his teeth. Give me strength. I glare over at him and his miserable looking wife catches me and glares back.

I arrive after the nearly two hour flight next to peanut sucking man / miserable scowling Malay wife and though we land early, there is a technical issue and we can’t get off the plane for a further 20 minutes – oh well, nothing lost as we were about 30 minutes early (no idea how that could happen on a 2 hour flight).

Somewhere In The Crowd There's You

The Thaipusam festival was absolutely amazing – and incredibly busy. Having stayed pretty much in the same spot for a while, letting the colourful crowds pass by, we decided to move into the throng and join the procession into the caves, as to come here and not actually go up into the caves would have been a bit pointless and I am sure we’d have regretted it. 

We made our way through the entrance and I am sure if I just jumped up, the crowds of people pushing and jostling to get to the caves would have carried me along. It didn’t help that the Malaysian Prime Minister was also here, so the crowds were there to see him too. Anyway, getting past the crowds gathering in front of him wasn’t too bad and it seemed to get clearer, so we marched our way to the entrance…

…only to find that we’d gone down a dead end and we couldn’t actually get to the entrance to the caves from where we were, as we were blocked by a set of railings that probably stretched all the way back to the entrance, so the only way to get into the caves was to make our way back against all the crowds to rejoin the correct line! Bollocks!

That was not fun, and I did suddenly feel rather claustrophobic in the crowd, but it wasn’t long before we’d managed to work our way back to where the railings started, and into the correct crowd, and up the 200 odd steps to the caves. 

Once up inside, which absolutely stank as predicted, we took a rest, a few photos of the crowds below and then made our way back down again: it was hot and smelly and, though an amazing site and experience, I’d had enough and I was worried that having spent so much time in the sun, I’d look like a Chinese lantern. 

I did joke that in about 10 years’ time, there would be an escalator up to the caves, and in fact after we'd come down later, there was an unveiling of a contract to build a cable car!

Ow

I get a text message from Lewis asking me if I had decided what to do tomorrow (a public holiday), and I have absolutely no idea what he's on about. Ah, yes, I had provisionally agreed to go to the Batu Caves with him to see the Thaipusam festival, but as this agreement was made over a load of alcohol on Friday night, I had promptly forgotten.

We arrange to meet for breakfast at mine at about 9.30 am, which is perfect, and then almost immediately get a message to say that we had better leave really early – i.e. 8 am, which is not so perfect! Still I am determined to see this festival so I guess I will have to get out of bed early on a holiday…

Of course, I didn’t bother going to bed particularly early so I am knackered when the alarm goes off

Thaipusam’s an Indian festival where people who have committed sins in the previous year pay their penance by abstaining for 48 days, then attach, via hooks into bare skin, heavy objects to or a carriage / person that they drag along from the Sri Mahamariamman Temple in Chinatown to the Batu Caves (about 7-8 km). If you hadn’t got something attached to your body then you were probably carrying something heavy on your head. It was going to be a site to see!

Anyway the first taxi that we booked then phoned and said they didn’t want to take us there, so I very nearly gave up, but instead Lewis managed to secure a car that we could hire for the time we were going to be there, which was a good thing. So Moo, our cab driver, picks me up at my place at about 8 am and off we head to the Batu Caves. From what all the people in the office had been saying, plus the fact the original taxi driver had refused to take us, I was expecting carnage, and had worn walking shoes expecting to have to abandon our taxi and walk several kilometres to get there. As usual, it was a complete exaggeration and we managed to get almost to the front line of the procession without any issue.

I must remember in future to either ignore these warnings of woe, or actually ask if they have got personal experiences to pull from: as it happens, most of those who said that I shouldn’t go there as it’ll be too crowded / dangerous / smelly have, in fact, never been.

It was amazing: we managed to get a pretty good spot just outside the main gates to the Caves and were able to watch the various spectacles pass us by: these consisted of men and women carrying either

•  a body suit of some wooden / polystyrene construction with a deity sitting on top of them, festooned with peacock feathers
• heavy looking milk churns on the head
• wooden spoons pierced through cheekbones
•  fruit / milk churns / ropes tied to other men/trolleys hooked into their backs

I spent the whole time going “Ow”

Too Good To Be True

There’s a ridiculous advert on at the moment for a Maybank 0% interest credit card and at one point the woman giggles her sentence out on the lines of “if you think that having 0% is too good to be true, it is”.

Erm, doesn’t that mean that this offer is actually too good to be true?

Temper Tempura

Whilst waiting for my friend Chye to go to the cinema, I got myself some lunch in Sakai Sushi and I ordered some sashimi, a couple of sushi rolls, edamame beans and some mixed tempura. Everything except the tempura arrived and I was getting really annoyed: not only the fact my food was delayed, but also by the annoying waiter who just shuffled his feet around the place in a circle, dropping food off onto various tables. 

Twice he went passed me with a bowl full of mouth-watering tempura, each time my hopes rising, only to be dashed again as he shuffles passed me. I was just about to shout at him after having waited for ages for them not to bring me my tempura, but instead I smiled nicely at one of the waitresses and told her that I’d been waiting for a very long time. She checked my online order (you have to click and create your order via an online menu on each table) and turns to me and said that I hadn't ordered it.  

It turns out I hadn’t completed my order properly and in fact I hadn’t placed an order at all. Tits, I really wanted tempura now, but it was time for me to leave and meet Chye.

No Parking

I have arranged to meet a friend to see a film – The Tourist – in the Pavilion Cinema and then immediately regret that as I remember trying to find a parking space with Mike in there and getting very frustrated. This time was no different, and after circulating the place at least twice on each floor I stop one of the pathetic car park attendants who is just waving people in and tell him that there are no more spaces left on any floor, so why was he letting more cars into the car park? 

They should put a “FULL” sign up, stupid twats. I was about to run him over when he very kindly led my to a parking space – right under a huge sign saying “No Parking – Clamping Zone”.

Hmm, I checked with him that it was really OK to park there, and then I confirmed again, beckoning him over to the sign and pointing at it saying, “Clamp zone” but he just said, “No Problem sir.”

Well it had better bloody well not be.

Decorating My Pussy

I meet Charles this morning for some (unhealthy) breakfast of fried noodles and crispy pork and head into Chinatown to get some Chinese New Year decorations for the flat. 

There are so many places to get decorations from I manage to find some tacky red lights (fitting…) and some dangly things for the pussy willow that I’ve got in the lounge. 

Looks all very festive...

It's Electrifying!

After the first week back we are in need of some alcoholic refreshments, so me, Lewis and Ali have arranged to meet in Souled Out tonight. 

As I am about to leave the apartment, I notice that it’s really dark outside and I can hardly see a few yards out of the window for all the mist and fog: I seem to be in the clouds! 

Suddenly there is an amazingly electric crackle of lightning followed by the loudest clap of thunder I have ever heard immediately afterwards, followed by another electric sizzling noise. This goes on for a good 10 minutes and I think that my tower block is actually in the middle of the storm! It’s quite frightening with the lightning almost coming into the apartment. 

The rain is absolutely torrential too, and I am glad that Lewis makes the decision to drive and picks me up.

دعنا البدنية (Let's Get Physical)

It's getting busier in the apartment complex and I am no longer the only person using the gym. A few days ago there were a couple of Middle Eastern guys in there too: after their workout, one of them (Reza) comes over to say hello. His English is not that good, but he invites me to his place for drinks sometime, and over to the pool at Hartamas Heights (another apartment block behind this one) - as his friend lives there with his wife. He also invites me to dinner with them all, which is really friendly of him: always nice to meet new people, especially if they are going to cook for you.

He then asks me how old I am, and I tell him, and he acts completely shocked and says that he’d put me at 32… How nice!

I go to the gym later in the week and I hear loud music and guess there must be a class going on or something: actually it’s Reza and his friends, with their own music. Him and his friends are in front of the workout mirror doing some (badly coordinated) aerobics, which I try not to laugh at.

The music's very loud and I must admit, a bit annoying, and they seem to have taken over the whole gym: their sweaty towels over most of the equipment. Before I get all arsey about it, I actually think it's nice to have a bit of life about the place, so I let it go. I have a quick chat with Reza after his 'dancing' and again, he asks me for dinner – that evening – before commenting that he thought my legs were really lovely and spends a good 10 minutes looking at them whilst I use the exercise bike. 

It was a little bit off putting, and then the penny dropped.

Ah. Hmm. 

Asian Man Van

This morning’s radio madness was another phone in – this time about how kids these days have no respect and are getting away with really bad behaviour, probably because no-one exercises any form of physical punishment anymore – discuss!

This guy phones in and says that he is all for hitting his children when they are naughty, but is finding it more and more difficult to stop raising his hand to his wife when she disobeys him. The radio presenters are clearly shocked by this and scrabble to pull the plug on him! I am so surprised by this that I nearly don't spot the white van that’s rapidly approaching in my rear view mirror, weaving it’s way through the traffic jam at high speed, pissing everyone off.

They have White Man in Van here too!!

I was about to beep him and hurl abuse as he pulled in front of me, until I realised it was the police.

Blackberry Brings Down Society

I was woken by an annoying car alarm this morning and when I got out of bed everything was really blurred; I just thought it was sleep in my eyes and they sort of cleared after a rubbing and blinking a few times. Thought nothing more of it and showered etc and when to put my lenses in and suddenly everything was even blurrier. Hmm, yes I’d forgotten to take out the lenses last night and put another pair on top of them this morning! Idiot.

Today’s radio ridiculousness was actually slightly disturbing: apparently the Malaysian government have been considering a law to ban the Blackberry, as they ‘will lead to the erosion of society’. What a load of bollocks, and perhaps what I thought I was observing as a relatively tolerant and progressive society may not actually be so: this does seem rather backwards... and a bit depressing. Now if it was an Android...

To cheer myself from that news, I booked a long weekend to Bangkok – staying in the Mandarin Oriental Bangkok – how marvellous! Realising I have a limited time left over here, I need to make the most of my time left.

Eye Will Survivor

The first day back in the KL office today and I am in a surprisingly up beat mood considering it’s work. My heart quickly sinks when I realise that there is a 3 hour meeting to discuss staff performance ratings.

On the drive into work this morning, I was listening to something like Hitz FM, and they played this mash of Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger” and Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive”. Good grief, someone actually took the time to do that.

Later, there was a ‘phone in with your problems’ slot, and this guy phones in with the first 'problem': his fiancé said she didn’t want to have children after they were married, so what should he do? Another listener phoned in and simply said, “Dump her”.

The presenter laughed and said that the advice was probably ok for a younger couple, but in this case people were being insensitive as this woman, at 40, was probably too old anyway to have children. At 40.

I have subsequently renamed the radio station Shitz FM.

Bugs

During the night, I feel like I am being bitten by mosquitoes, and I turn the light on at about 2 am to find one the bastards sitting on my bed, so I splat it and went to get the cream from the kitchen where I saw a massive cockroach sitting on the counter top, next to the sink. My heart sank and as I went to get the cockroach killer spray from under the sink, it must have seen me and tried to scuttle off, but it was on the stainless steel of the sink so it was a bit like a cartoon character trying to make a quick escape – legs all moving really fast, but not getting anywhere  (which was good for me as it gave me time to unwrap the can and spray it until it dropped on the floor in agony).

Yuk. I am disappointed that I have found a roach – I knew they'd be in the apartment at some point; I just didn’t expect it to be so soon and for it to be so large (about 1.5 inches). 

Maybe it came from outside: I have seen 1 or 2 squished ones on the same level as the gym, but this one was so large, I am struggling to understand where exactly it came from. Maybe it flew in the open windows. 

Oh well, time to get some traps and more mosquito repellant!

I Want Pussy

I am woken up (after a pretty interrupted night’s sleep) by drilling in the apartment above me at about 10am and decide to get up: probably the best way to get over jet lag is to try and get back into a routine. I am lucky that I have got the weekend to recover.

I was wondering what to do today when I get a message from Charles saying that he’s going to IKEA later and I invited myself along: I now have a plan for today. I ask him what he needs from there and he replies “pussy"

Err, what?

"Pussy. Pussy willow!" It was a bit of a comedy moment, as I didn’t think he knew what pussy really was (he did, so I guess not that funny).

IKEA is the usual trip – candles, kitchen utensils, rug, pussy – and we leave just in time as the crowds start building up. I loved the fact they were playing ABBA non-stop, perhaps taking the Swedish thing a bit too literally.

That's MY Pillow

The flight was OK actually, and seemed to go fairly quickly, though about hour 7 I was quite uncomfortable and the pillow belonging to the bloke in front (travelling with his wife in matching shell suites) had slipped onto my side, so I slowly pulled it and used it as extra support. He didn’t seem to bother looking for it, as him and his wife had those blow-up neck pillows for support. They were matching too.

I was very excited to land and be back in Asia again – I was wondering how I’d feel after having such a great break and trip home seeing (most) of my family and friends, but it was actually like coming home. 

And it was warm!

Second Homeward Bound

I'm flying back to Malaysia tonight and I finish work about 12 and spend the rest of the day cleaning and packing. This should have taken about an hour had I focussed on the tasks, but instead I got very side-tracked with TV, internet etc and in fact the cleaning and packing takes virtually all afternoon!

All done, I give the plants a final water, recheck everything in the flat six times and I prepare to leave the UK. My flight’s not until 10 pm, so I get the Heathrow Express to get me to the airport for about 7 pm, as I like to have a mooch about and also because I like to be really ridiculously early at the airport in case the flight leaves early or something...

Anyway, when I’m on the tube I suddenly realise that i don’t actually know which terminal I am flying from, and weirdly it’s not on my ticket or boarding pass, so when I’m on the Express train I ask the guard, who confidently says “Terminal 3”. 

At the same time, I Googled “What+Terminal+Do+I+Need+For+Malaysia+Airlines” and it’s come back with ‘Terminal 4', so I am confused. I get off at the Terminal 3 stop (you have to anyway) and ask another guard, who confirms it’s Terminal 4 – the stupid twat on the train could have made me late and I may have missed my plane by sending me to the wrong place.

Only that would not have happened, as I am ridiculously early for my flight as usual.

I have checked in online and chosen a seat in the window where there was someone already checked in and sitting on their own in the aisle. The theory of this is that is it’s going to be less likely someone will chose a seat between 2 strangers, so more likely that no-one will be sitting next to me, like on the way to the UK. 

Alas, on the way to finding my seat there was this loud and potentially obnoxious Australian girl with her brother / boyfriend, who had clearly not bothered to check in until they’d got to the airport, saying “I bet I am sat between two fat people, squeezing me in the middle, I’ll moan and ask if I can sit in the window seat” – I noticed her boarding pass was 46B – the seat next to me. She looked a little sheepish when she realised I was sitting next to her, in the window seat that she wanted…

OK, I have put on about 8 lbs over Christmas, but I am still not that fat. Actually, she was really nice and I was pleased that she wasn’t a great big lump, and between us we had quite a bit of room, well, as much room as you can get on an economy flight.

Homeward Bound

I'm off to the UK for Christmas - back here on January 6th...

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year...

Total Technology Failure

...Only to find Daniel (UK Voice) repeating his annoying “Recalculating, recalculating” as the GPS couldn’t work out how to get to the airport. I rebooted the thing a couple of times and reset all the settings, but for some reason we’d got total failure of the GPS – and unfortunately I had absolutely no idea how to get to the airport form my place – the signs  (when you actually see them) are all to KLIA, and the Low Cost Terminal is not in the same place. 

We drove round the block a few times, watching the Calculation-monitor get up to 99% and then go back to the beginning and Daniel (UK, Voice) start his maniacal “RECALCULATING, RECALCULATING”. It was fucked! Mike suggested driving back to the flat and getting a cab from there, and I was in a state of intense irritation and I blurted out something on the lines that I didn’t even know the way home (we were parked over the road from my place!)

Bollocks! 

Anyway, I managed to find the way home (!) and parked outside the block trying to reset and get the fucking thing working. Mike was trying to hail a cab (with limited success) and I was getting more and more anxious that we were going to be late getting to the airport. I called Charles, but unbelievably he was already at the LCCT dropping off another one of his friends – what shit timing!

Luckily a cab pulled up that was happy to take us and we set off, leaving my car on the road and me with GPC in hand, about to throw it into the oncoming traffic, but instead I took it with me, in the hope that i might be able to get it started on the journey. What a shit time to have a total technology failure. It’s funny though, there were probably a load of options that I didn’t think about: calling Ali, using my iPhone etc.

Anyway we get to the airport just in time (after telling the driver that we were late, and he put his foot down) and after a final coffee, shop for more pants and check in, I gave Mike a hug goodbye and left him to get his plane home, whilst I got a taxi back with the intention of smashing up my GPS for ruining my last day with Mike. 

Don't Lie To Me

Mike’s last day here and we have to get to the airport by about 11-12 for his flight at 2.30 pm.

We decide to have breakfast in the Old Town Coffee place over the road from me but that was a bit of a disaster as the lying waiter claimed that Mike’s order would be 10 minutes: 10 minutes later, he said it would be another 5 minutes; 5 minutes later, another 5 minutes, so we got a bit stroppy and told him that we needed to be at the airport so would have to leave breakfast. It really annoys me when restaurant staff lie to you about this sort of thing: if it was (and it clearly was) going to be a 25-30 minute wait for the food, we’d have either not bothered or ordered something else, instead of this drama.

Anyway, we paid (minus the chicken dish that never arrived) and loaded all Mike’s stuff into the car, in preparation for me to drive him to the airport...

All Good Things Come To An End

Alas, it’s the last day today of our mini-break and we head off and back to KL for about 5 pm, and then it’s a bit of a panic to get into town, try and find something to eat in Jalan Alor or the food hall under Lot 10, plus getting Mike’s battery pack for his laptop etc, all because I am crap at planning… Oh well. Actually, I wanted to get some lovely char siew, but the Meng Tee place in Jalan Alor was closed, so that was a bit disappointing. I try to find a stall in the place under Lot 10 that I've been to before, but it was all a bit to hectic there and I can’t find the char siew there either and its getting more towards dinner time than lunch now, so we decide to head back home and to have something nice to eat around my place after a few drinks first. 

We end up going to the Japanese place again but as we were quite late getting there (about 9 pm) the entry price was cheaper but probably because they were not going to be doing any replacement of the food, so I am not sure how much of a bargain it will actually be…

Still, it IS eat as much as you like!

The staff are a bit shit and Mike get a little shirty with them when they can’t get his card to work and has to go to the counter to sort it out, which was keeping him from his sushi…

Mmmmm-assage

We get to the hotel spa in time for our Balinese massage, and go through the necessary procedures: signing to say that you are not going to sue if anything goes wrong, and getting into a huge pair of boxer shorts. I decide to keep my own underwear on, as you never know whose oiled up arse and balls have been in them before.

It’s amazing: I have never really gone for the idea of a massage before, the thought of someone rubbing oil and pummelling me, especially my feet etc, just never really appealed. In addition, I get that awful feeling of wanting to punch someone’s head in if they keep touching or stroking me too much.

Thoroughly relaxed we head to the beach for some sundown cocktails and then dinner at the Pavilion restaurant for Thai food – again absolutely delicious – but there is a fine line between the staff being a little too attentive and actually becoming rather irritating. Still, it was a lovely way to end the holiday here in total luxury.

Cable Car

After the disappointing shopping expedition, our car took us to the cable car point, which was really busy with a massive queue that I was almost tempted to think "fuck this" at.  Our driver managed to get us into another shorter queue to buy our tickets... only to then join another long queue to actually get into another queue to join yet another queue onto the cable cars. 

A lot of queuing...

In front of us were a really annoying Chinese family that kept panicking if there were a few spaces ahead of them in the queue; behind us was an extremely ugly German couple – the man looked completely haggard, baggy eyes, potted, red and blotchy skin. Delightful. The cable cars seated six people so we were either going to share with the annoying Chinese family or the Ugly Germans.

Ugly Germans it was, and we were lucky that we were first into the car, as I didn’t fancy being squashed in between the four of them (they had another couple with them, not quite as ugly). The car is scarier than this couple and whisks us up into the mountains to offer some amazing views. There are a few viewpoints on the way, which we take the opportunity to get out, walk about and take photos. Mike is completely petrified of walking across this rather precarious walkway that joins two viewpoints together across a ravine. I didn’t look down; Mike didn’t look up! It didn’t help that the concrete ‘planks’ that formed the walkway were loose, so they wobbled as you walked across them! Still, it was worth it to get the views.

We have to make a fairly quick exit from there as we have a spa treatment booked for tonight – my first massage ever, so we head back down through the town to the car park, but our driver is not about… I imagined us being stranded here for a few hours, naturally, and just as we were about to phone the hotel, he arrived – he’d been praying: what else?

Tax Free Shopping

Today we get out of the resort to see a little bit of the island and we take a car to the local tax free shopping centre, to buy some pants. 

The shopping centre was a bit crap really, and I didn’t think that it was really much cheaper than anywhere else, but Mike did buy a load of Diesel pants and a couple of Chinese pots that were quite nice. I did think that I needed to start looking about for things to buy that would look good in the London flat, items to remind me of my time out here.

So far all I’ve collected are fridge magnets.

Err, SHUT UP

We decide that it’s so nice here that we would extend the stay by another day and leave on Saturday rather than tomorrow as originally planned, so we have to rebook flights etc, which is no bother. Unfortunately though we are too late to change the existing booking and have to rebook a new flight. I got really annoyed with the guy at Air Asia on the phone: it was a premium cost number but when I got through, he spoke really, really slowly, repeating himself over again and just being a complete dickhead, so I shut him up.

Air Asia Man:

“Hello...Good...afternoon...Please...can...I...have...your...booking...reference...and...name?

Me:

“Hi, Chris Wicks, ref BK7689”

Air Asia Man:

“Before…we…carry…on…Mr...Wicks...I…need…to…tell...you...something....Mr...Wicks”

Long Pause

Air Asia Man:

“is...it...OK...if...I...tell...you...something?...Mr...Wicks...the...systems...are...down...so...we...are...unable...to...change...any...bookings...and...Mr...Wicks...you...will...need...to...call...back...in...an...hour....Is...there...anything...I...can...help...you...with...Mr...”

I shut him up mid sentence, saying that this is costing me a fortune and could he just tell me if it is possible to change a flight that was due to leave in less than 24 hours, systems up or not, or do I need to rebook.

“No, you need to rebook.”

Thanks...twat.

More Luxury

A day on the beach – total relaxation and loveliness. The only effort required was to decide which cocktail to have and what lunch to eat. I did go for a bit of a swim though, to make me feel a little better, and then walked back along the beach, avoiding jellyfish, as I didn’t want anyone to pee on me.

It’s a hard life…

We do go to the gym on the way back to the room though, so that’s not too bad: we did a few weights etc just to make ourselves feel slightly better after having quite a number of feasts over the last few days… I’d have rather spent the time in the hot tub, but that doesn’t tone the body or lose the flab. 

I have managed to get the sun today too, which is lovely: I may be turning into a lumpy lard arse, but at least I am tanned...

Langkawi - A Luxury Break

We’re off to Langkawi today for a few days – staying in the Datai Hotel Resort on the beach, which looks absolutely amazing. It's pretty pricy, but I have booked as a Malaysian resident, which gives me 60% off...

The car that met us at the airport after the hour's flight was a bit of an expensive luxury, but it seemed appropriate. However, I was nearly sick on the last bit of the journey to the hotel up and twisting round these bends in the road – and the driver was not taking any prisoners either, he was driving like a complete maniac. There was one point where he had to slam on his brakes to avoid going into the back of a very slow moving car: he tried to overtake it, but failed to see the other car coming in the opposite direction. Scary.

We arrived, nevertheless, in one piece and the place is amazing, just as you’d imagine a beach resort on a tropical island would be: I think we are going to like it here. We are welcomed with a drink (alas no alcohol) and the concierge guy was trying to explain to us that we have been upgraded due to the room that we wanted now being unavailable due to the Prime Minister of Malaysia staying at the same place. I am usually suspicious when someone tells me I have been upgraded, as I don’t usually believe them – apparently I was upgraded on my holiday in Sitges a couple of years ago, but the room I was given had no windows, so I dread to think what the original room was like.

Anyway, our new room was in fact, a bungalow in the forest; about 5 minutes walk to the beach so we’d really done well – especially considering I had booked under false pretences under a deal that was specifically for Malaysian and Singaporean residents only. They didn’t check any of this information however, but I was still cautious when the staff asked me where I was from – answering, “UK, but I live and work in Malaysia”, just in case they suddenly go “Ah-HA! You don’t qualify for the 60% discount rate and owe us 1000s more Ringgit…”

But they don’t.

We head to the beach pretty much immediately – well, pretty much after having a bag of crisps, a pot of cashew nuts and a large gin and tonic on the balcony (petrified of attracting the monkeys out of the forest and into the room) and it’s stunning! I can’t believe this place is so lovely, pure bliss. We have a couple of cocktails on the sun loungers and watch the sun set.

After a luxuriating bath, we have dinner in the beach bar restaurant, which was another buffet and eat as much as you want! I think I’ll have put on a few kilos after this holiday, but what the hell. After the meal we are full and a bit pissed on wine, gin and cocktails, so we head back to the room for sleep: after all, tomorrow is another exhausting day on the beach.