A Note from Louise

Louise has left a new comment on your post "Our Picks - Melaka, Malaysia": Hi, nice post :) Melaka is really an amazing historical city and it's amazing that how heritage and culture is well-preserve in Melaka and no doubt that's why it's one of UNESCO world heritage site :) I visited this amazing city once and feel like going there again :) All the red buildings, old architecture, Melaka River, Jonker Street .. everything is just amazing ... I put up some information about Malacca Malaysia in my blog . Please visit and have some comments .. Hopefully I will visit Melaka soon :) cheers ...

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Back to the Beginning

Our room here at the Comfort Inn is slightly smaller than what we had the first time here, but the beds are just as comfortable. One thing I look for at hotels is how clean the mattress is. The sheets may be clean, but if the mattress or pillows are old, soiled, or downright groady, it gives me the heebie geebies. With one exception, the roach hotel, all of the places we have stayed pass the deep down cleanliness test with impressive colors. Hence this is why they are added to Our Picks on our web site www.budabab.com/our_picks.htm . We only refer to the best.

Toward the end of vacation, I go into what Ron calls ‘reentry’ mode, where I stop thinking about the present and concentrate on the things that need doing once we return home. Pushing these thoughts back, we forced ourselves to visit Starbucks to use their WiFi. There is this compulsive need to pay our credit cards hours after we have used them so the rich do not get richer on our interest charges. Plus there is satisfaction in reaching the stage of life where one can say they are truly debt-free. Needless to say, with the e-mails and other utilitarian tasks, we were at the café for over two hours, and then had to return the computer to our room.

There is one Hindu temple we had read about after our first time here, which from pictures looked well worth seeking out. Ron thought he knew where it was having seen it from the monorail in the past, so this was our destination today. Tickets for the monorail are point to point, whereas the point we were headed cost 1.20 Ringgits, less than 50 cents and much cheaper than a Disneyland ride. We disembarked where Mr. Map thought the temple was, but he was in grave danger of losing his designated title; we arrived at a Chinese Taoist temple instead of a Hindu one. The temple looked like it had lost its congregation long ago, being in an unkempt state of affairs, but interestingly, there was a flourishing traditional Chinese medical clinic operating inside and to the right of the main altar. They must deal with foreigners often enough to warrant a translation of the information into English.

Close, but no cigar for the temple we wanted to see, so we walked a few blocks and found an area where there were dozens of stores that sold wholesale jewelry. Block after block, shops were specializing in the glitz and gaudy items to accessorize, a cross-dressers dreamland. As we wandered, other shops started to appear as we reached a neighborhood downtown area, though still in Kuala Lumpur. Then peaking over the tops of other buildings, we spotted the temple we were searching for and magnificent it was.

Although I firmly hold to being agnostic bordering on atheist, there are places where I feel such serenity, there is no denying for me that it has to relate to some past life experience. This only happens when I enter Buddhist or Hindu temples strangely enough. Weirdly, when my photos in Buddhist temples are usually on the blurred side regardless of how artistically I control my camera, yet in Hindu temples, the photos seem to be crisp and clean. Finding this temple was worth the effort. Statues everywhere inspire a regal solemnity over my soul that I rarely find elsewhere worming a desire within to sit around and take lessons from whoever is willing to share their wisdom with me. Ganesh is always my favorite with his elephant head and my love of elephants. I walked around the massive complex taking it all in and wanting to share it with everyone through my photos, but halfway through my batteries died. End of the pictures; I had not recharged the back-up set thinking there were not be a need. My mind holds all of the untaken pictures, but how to share them will be a mystery.

Ron loves taking us off of the beaten track not answering direct questions. When we left the temple for parts unknown to me and asked where we were heading next, he only committed to the light rail train. Buying a day ticket for 7.50 Ringgits seemed ominous to me, our hours were ticking away and we had to leave this evening. We got off of the train at a section in the city where the old wooden houses are built on stilts. Walking in search of a drink, we found we were in a local neighborhood with the usual impromptu looking restaurants patronized by locals, yet only one was open. Ron was searching for a beer, which gave me internal giggles. We were in the land of Islam with head covered women working around us and alcohol being against the teachings of Islam as strictly as Mormonism. There would not be a beer to be found, but he fought on with his ethnocentricity assured that they would indulge tourists. However, after a few blocks, it was a certainty, we were in areas where tourists never tread and the locals were staring at us with smiles and word balloons lingering over their heads saying “These tourists took a wrong turn.”

Admitting defeat, we moved on and in search of a beer. We returned to the central bus station and then to our old ‘hood’ where we started this whole adventure a month prior. It did not seem as overwhelmingly crowded and busy as it had originally. We have been inoculated with the crowd and confusion vaccine. From a street vendor, I purchased some durian already to eat. Durian is one of the smelliest fruits imaginable and not pleasantly fragrant. Some areas restrict their growing it due to the stench. However, some brave soul in some millennia decided to venture past the aroma and cut through to the innards where four avocado shaped pieces of light yellow fruit are waiting to be evacuated. Unlike its smell, the fruit is mind in flavor, slightly juicy, but carries some of its smell into the taste. I tried it, but I could live without it.

Still not finding a beer, we went back to our hotel neighborhood where we knew for certain alcohol was not restricted and found beer before going to the laundry to collect our clean clothes. One of the best things about these countries is the inexpensive laundry services all over. We have never had to suffer with dirty clothes, having it laundered along the way. Now we would be returning home with the only dirty clothing being those that we traveled in.

Our flight to Doha, Qatar is at the unthinkable time of 3:30 am. According to the front desk clerk, we need to leave the hotel at 11:30 via taxi to get there in time. Not liking that answer, we are waiting for a change of shift and will ask again when the new clerk comes on duty. We prepare by taking a nap, though my naps are never longer than one hour, so I am up earlier than Ron to write in semi-darkness with the monitor for illumination.

Our last dinner here and we are going to do it up. We returned to a restaurant in the neighborhood where they have pork ribs in a lemon sauce. The sauce is so delectable if they bottled it, they could be rich. The ribs are almost a misnomer being chunks of pork almost absent of bone. I ordered a medium portion of chicken curry, small was not an option for some reason. To complement this, I also order a small portion of the lemon ribs, warning Ron that I am guarding my plates like a starving dog. If he wants any of this, he had better order his own. The medium portion of the curry was enough to feed a family of four; the ribs could have fed a small tribe in Botswana. I did my best, but since I did not have the time to send the leftovers via Fedex to the poor starving children in China, I had to admit defeat after giving it a glutton’s go at it.

Returning to the hotel, the change of shift desk clerk said we could leave for the airport at 12:30 am, an answer we liked so much better. We went to repack for the final time after showering and tried to nap yet again. Sleeping on my stomach was like trying to sleep while stretched over a beer barrel, it wasn’t going to happen.

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Mysterious Knocker Part 2: For Real This Time

The knock on the door occurred again this morning, but this time we could not send him away to get more sleep. We had a flight from Hanoi to Kuala Lumpur at 9:15 and the airport is over an hour away.

The taxi was on time and started the meter as we arranged ourselves in the cab, but I told him the hotel had paid for the trip. He asked for a receipt, but Ron had seen the clerk hand him a paper already. I told him to turn around and get it from the hotel if he did not have it, because we were not paying the bill. Miraculously, he continued to drive on.

We had paid for Express boarding, but had no clue what it meant. Checking in was a breeze and Air Asia was again great. We boarded first with express boarding directly into the plane getting to choose our seats first and first shot at the overhead storage. Our luggage weight was not an issue, which was a relief. The flight took off on time and we arrived ten minutes early. The landing was the smoothest we have had in years.

From the airport, we took the bus shuttle directly to our hotel for 15 Ringgits each, a real bargain. The hotel clerk remembered us and welcomed us back apologizing for not having the same room available. We immediately took our dirty clothes to the laundry service next door to pick up tomorrow, so when we get home, we will only have one shirt each that needs to go into the wash.

Not having a really good coffee since we left Siem Reap, we had to go to Starbucks for a caffeine fix. We did head back to the mall that had the large white Christmas tree to see if it still graced the lobby, but it was gone. The Chinese Lunar New Year starts on January 18^th and the whole mall is decorated in red and gold in anticipation. If you look at my photos, the changes are dramatic. If you want to see my albums, send me an e-mail to drryanjames@gmail.com.

Our enthusiasm is not what it was a month ago and although there are a couple of things we would like to see here, we only have tomorrow. If we see them, fine, but if we don’t, oh well. After being gone a month, our thoughts about tourism transpire from we have to see it all to whatever we see and do is fine. Touring around is work. Being a tourist is mind bending. Not only to you have to transform your thinking to the language differences, but the culture, the food, and a real obstacle is transportation once you hit the ground. It has not been easy getting from one place to another, but it has been an experience that I probably would not have given up when all is said and done. It helped me grow as a person to see what others have to survive with in a microscopic piece of their daily lives making me feel fortunate for living in Budapest.

The WiFi is not working at our hotel, so we have not been able to download mail or post my writing, so we will have to make a trip to Starbucks tomorrow where they have free WiFi at everyone of the 150 stores in the country.

The major difference being back here as opposed to Cambodia or Vietnam, is prosperity. More people are better off here than in the other countries. Malaysia had embraced technology and it has worked for the masses. No one here is hounding us to buy books, cigarette lighters, fruit, combs, bracelets, jewelry of any kind, or offering us rides in their cyclo (there are no tuk-tuks or cyclos here). No one is asking us where we are from, how old we are, or if we have children. The culture shock continues with the majority of women wearing head coverings. Then there is the weather. It is so much hotter and humid here. Just as we were entering the city, the clouds opened up and it poured a torrential rain. Thinking this would relieve the humidity, when it stopped, it was only successful in creating a city steam bath. You can almost see the steam rising from wet pedestrians as the sun is now drying their clothing.

Similarities do exist, each restaurant you pass has someone trying to get you into their door and massage parlors are everywhere outnumbering the number of tourists in any of the countries. Full body massages run on the average of $6.00 for an hour, the same for a foot/leg massage also. From what we can see, they are all legitimate massages, but it goes without saying there are probably other types available also, but not for this writer for sure.

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Ho Chi Minh City

One of the restaurants in the next alley over has free WiFi, so we decided to have breakfast there and check e-mails, pay bills, and other mundane things. The place was empty with the exception of one young man, yet six of the booth tables had laptops on them, opened and running. I could not believe the bad luck not being able to find a table where there was a plug available. The hostess came running out of the kitchen to sit us, competition is tough for patrons. She pointed to a table occupied by a laptop and I asked if it was okay. When she said it was, I realized that since they offer free WiFi, they also offer computers in order to access it. All six of the computers on the tables belonged to the restaurant as their bargaining chip for getting customers.

The plugs throughout Vietnam and Cambodia are European style plugs, while Malaysia has British style; however, here they are all as loose as an old bitch after birthing six unwanted litters. Besides the plug, you need a 2 by 4 to hold it in. The plug has to dangle just so in the outlet in order for an actual electric connection to be made. After fiddling with one for a good three minutes, I asked Ron to try, but the only way we could get it to work is if he held it. For some reason he was not willing to be bent over holding it for the forty-five minutes I would need it just so. My battery was already evaporated, no juice was left. A plug was essential. Then it occurred to me that if their laptop was plugged in, I could most likely use that plug. After asking, I cut the power to their machine and powered up my own. Finishing up, we dropped the computer off at our hotel and we were off for discovering.

It was not a terribly eventful day. We went to one of the major markets that covers one full city block. They sell everything from raw materials for making your own clothes, to touristy souvenirs and restaurant are serving food. If you are a tourist, you are like highly prized beef. Each stall will call you over, ask what you want to buy today, or many have the give of prophecy to automatically have a shirt, underwear, pants, t-shirt or belt already in their hands telling you this is what you have come for. If you smile and say “No, thank you” or “just looking”, they start getting aggressive. These mostly young women will grab your shirt, your arm, or your pant leg if you are tall enough and they are sitting on the floor at the time to get your attention to show you their full selection of wares. If what they have in their hand is not to your liking, chances are they have something you will find desirable if only you give them the chance.

Ron was looking for a muslin pullover V-neck and I happened to spot one, but it was embroidered. I made the mistake of making eye contact and now the race was on. Not only did I have the two women at the current booth all over me like white on rice, but every woman at every booth within earshot knew there were potential consumers within radar range. We were like trapped animals. The woman first showed us to shirt I did not like for him in his size, so then we asked if they had it plain without the embroidery. They did. One woman actually held my arm while the other went looking for it, lest I should escape during this diversion. When the ‘perfect’ shirt was produced, Ron was flipped around like a store dummy to see if the shoulders were the right size. They were cookin’ on full steam and there was no stopping them now.

The next factor was bargaining the price. When they suggested some ridiculous price, I told them for that much we would grow our own cotton, run it through a cotton mill, spin it, weave it and have it hand sewn for cheaper. Instead of lowering the price, they return with “How many do you want to buy?” Not being taken in by the discount for quantity trick, we said just one. The floor of the New York Stock Exchange has less bargaining done than we did with these two. Finally, I suggested Ron leave it behind to think about whether or not he really wanted it or not. He has had the idea for this shirt for over a year and each time we have come across one, he has negated it. We left them pleading with us to remember their stall was 116 and a price tag of 150,000 Dong, less than $10.00.

As we tried leaving the narrow aisle overflowing with merchants and merchandise, the smell of money was in the air and we were wanted bounty. We were grabbed, seized, snatched at, mauled, and man handled. The only thing we were not offered was someone’s first born child. We made our escape.

Many countries we have traveled to have had people who are poor or those that are out to scam try to sell us everything and anything, use emotional blackmail, or just pester us to distraction, but this is the worst we have dealt with. We continued walking and came across a pleasant young man with his sidewalk stand set up. He makes pop-up cards that he hand cuts and arranges. One card may open to a multicolored lotus flower while another may be a farmer plowing a field with oxen. They were beautifully executed. He had one of butterflies, so I bought it for my office.

Hearing various rumors that there was a Hard Rock Café here, we went in search of it. They vendors sell HRC t-shirts, but we fell for that stunt in Rome in 1993, years before HRC’s arrival. Though it was Sunday, all of the stores are open all day. This not being a Christian country, the day of the week means nothing to them. At the Tourist Information Center, we found there was a knock off HRC, but it was closed down. What we did find was a Gloria Jean Coffee shop! Yahoo, real coffee for a change, not the faux French press drip coffee that is cold by the time it finishes dripping. Guess what direction we went in?

Being fueled by caffeine, we ventured into a tall tower mall that was as western as they get, but the sign offering the chance to win a trip for two to the Beijing Olympics this year if you use your Visa card at any merchant in the mall, made it appealing. The grocery store at the top was a haven of American brands, but not with imported prices. If only we did not have strict weight limits on luggage. One strange item was Lipton brand chocolate milk tea bags. They also had a full line of breast creams to make your breasts more beautiful after various occasions.

We were sitting on the steps outside this building when a young guy comes over and wants to polish our shoes. Well, fine, but I am wearing Crocs, which can be cleaned in the sink or shower and Ron is wearing his Birkenstock sandals with only two narrow leather straps. When we refused him, he stood in front of us smiling. Deciding to ignore him, we started speaking to each other. I felt something and the guy was washing my shoe with a toothbrush and water. I jumped up yelling stop. He then tried Ron’s sandal with shoe polish, but when we stopped him again, a security guard came to expel him from the area.

Ron had found out there was a Catholic church nearby with a mass at 4:00 and wanted to go. In the courtyard was a grotto with a shrine to Mary. It looked like the vision from the movie about Fatima. Inside the church, it could have been any country, nothing spoke of cultural differences except the flower leis around statues like they use for the Buddha or Quan Yan statues. Mary and Quan Yan could pass for sisters, can you imagine. As it would happen, this was a benediction, not a mass. When it was over, we left; Ron had his fix, which would last him a week or so.

Eventually, we returned to the market and bought the shirt making two women happy, but not as excited as they would have been had we bought two, three or six gross of anything. Getting out of there took lots of exercise in dodging, pulling, picking hands off of us, and sprinting when we had a clear shot.

Stopping for a beer at a sidewalk café within an hour, we were approached to buy fruits or vegetables from four different vendors, sunglasses from two vendors although the fact that we were both wearing Rx eyeglasses did not seem to dissuade them, books from vendors that walk around carrying a stack of 40 different books all in English, three vendors that sell Zippo lighters with slogans on them, a vendor with a wide variety of Gucci or other designer wallets and then there are multitude of physically deformed who are begging for money.

It is emotionally wearing having so many people try to sell things when it is evident they are not doing this for the fun of it and you realize how much better off we have it than they do. Then the beggars all have legitimate claims and needs, but when do you stop giving and giving and giving, when you know there is no social security system in place to aid them and this is their survival. We have limited ourselves to each of us giving to one person each week.

From social work consciousness to reality once again, we went to the restaurant Good Morning Vietnam for dinner. Surprisingly, it is Italian food, the perfect change needed and their pizzas were excellent. They promise an authentic Italian chef at each of their five locations throughout Vietnam and the chef delivered the goods.

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Our Picks - Melaka, Malaysia

In Melaka or Melacca, it is spelled both ways, we were fortunate to come across an excellent taxi driver who did not rip us off. He drove us from the central station to the hotel and then from Melaka to the Air Asia airport in Kuala Lumpur. His English is excellent. Omar Sulkaflee 017-279-6739 or night reservations 606-335-2353

A great place to hang out, have a coffee or snack is the Dutch Harbor Cafe. They also have FREE WiFi, the only place we found that had WiFi. Dutch Harbor Café 39 Jalan Laksamana Melaka www.dutchharbourcafe.com

For a hotel, we stayed at the Aldy China Town. They had just opened this location 6 days before we arrived. They do have another location, but we found this one to be great. The rooms are large, ultra clean and the service was excellent. http://www.malacca.ws/aldy/

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Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve and it is feels like Fourth of July outside, with temperatures around 85 degrees and 85% humidity, but it is better than the 30 degrees in Budapest. We went to Italy for breakfast or at least the bakery called Italy. We cannot get enough of the Portuguese custard pies. When they will appear again on our radar is anyone’s guess; best to fill up on them now.

Walking to the historic city center, we stopped at the Dutch Harbor Café to check their hours. This is the one place we have seen that offers WiFi. We shall return, but onward to the tourism office. I am surprised Ron waited this long before sniffing it out; it is usually the first thing on his agenda. His motto is “Leave no tourism office undiscovered and then rape and pillage their knowledge”. When the tour office is especially convenient, he has been know to make frequent trips in to the office during a stay in one city. Workers have learned that if they are not on Ativan before he arrives, they will be by the time he leaves. He prepares his list of questions, before entering, but this list never seems to diminish as they are answered, but rather grow exponentially. I witnessed one young worker who actually was able to able for retirement by the time we left the chairs facing him. Sad really to see someone so young, age so quickly.

Armed with all of the information he thought we would need for our two days stay, we left. Directly across the street is the Museum of History, next to where the Christ Church is located, not a gathering ground for tourist schlock and bicycle taxis. They are not so efficient, but they are memorable for those who have not seen them before. Each competes with the others in a gaudiest bike from Mr. Black’s worst decorated bike list. As if the lime, hot pink and canary yellow flowers are not enough, some have attached generators to their tri-wheeled taxi in order to have miniature Christmas lights blink on and off while you are serenaded by East Indian love songs in that high pitched shrill nails of the chalkboard sort of undulating vocal noise. Needless to say, we passed up this cultural opportunity.

The entrance fee for the Museum on History was five Ringgits, but also included the Museum of Ethnography, Museum of Education, Museum of Literature, St. Paul’s Church, the Governor’s Museum, and still another governmental museum. With the exception of the last two, we did them all. It was an engaging hour. Well, I exaggerate, but it was not too much longer than this. The Museum of Literature was especially disappointing. The first room was a diorama of Folktales, which I had high hopes, but then after that was just a propagation of Islam and Arabic with famous letters written by one of the Sultans to the King of England. It was not until the last room, that Malay cultural literature was continued, but none of the descriptions were in English.

For an educational museum, there was not much to see, but a diorama with a teacher holding a stick over a child’s head while they copied from the board onto their individual slates. Other exhibits were old report cards and school memorabilia. One of the other guests was a man who had gone to school here and recounting his memories for his son. Listening to this was worth the price of admission to the whole complex. From the son’s accent, they have been living in North America.

Based on Ron’s investigations, we knew there where two hop-on hop-off buses that stopped on this circle. He had wanted to see the Portuguese section of the city and this was the best way to get there. One bus is a double-decker while the other is single and they have different routes. According to the ‘tour’ bus map, the red double-decker should have taken us to this Eurasian part of the city, so we hopped on and paid our five Ringgits for a full days travel. Unlike in most cities, where a hop-on and off bus offers a commentary about what you are seeing, this one was silent with the exception of the jabbering of the locals who use this as local transport. After two blocks, we made a stop, and then we went for over thirty minutes before the next stop. Just like a local bus, you have to tell the driver when you want to get off, but this was not clear to us. We rode the whole circuit. With the hypermarket Tesco and a mall being the highlights of the ride, we realized we were not getting any closer to anything Portuguese then when we left Budapest.

Actually, the real highlight was waiting for the bus. By the bus stop is a gentleman with three snakes of varying size and variety along with a huge iguana. The iguana, a café latte brown with some black stripes on his tail, was quite dashing and with his three inch nails, making it certain he could cut a rug both figuratively and literally. His head had a mass of horns coming out of it like a deformed unicorn, but such a pleasant docile personality to spend hours being on display. We never actually saw him move, I hope he was not stuffed. Unquestionably, the snakes were real. For ten Ringgits, the man would drape his 15 foot yellow snake around your neck, take your picture and then use his portable photo printer to print it. If yellow was not your color, he had other choices in patterns of browns and blacks. Quite clever, but since I have posed with snakes before, both the reptile and mammal versions, I declined the offer to model for him. It occurred to me that he must have to give the snakes a rest once a week or so for feeding. Who would want a snake wrapped around their neck with a big bulge half the way down its body?

Being Christmas Eve, Ron had to do the Catholic thing. We stopped at St. Francis Xavier’s Church to find out masses were at 7:30 pm in Tamil and10:30 pm in English. Back to the hotel to read and rest, we left again at 6:30 to ensconce me at the Dutch Harbor Café across the street from the church, where I would check e-mail and hope my battery did not run out before Ron reappeared. The owner is American, born in England and lived most of his life in Minnesota. He was a commercial pilot and after retiring was offered a teaching position by Air Asia. He opened this restaurant because his friends told him if he was going to whine about not finding a good pizza or other Euro or American food menus, he should open his own restaurant. It sits on the Dutch Harbor, hence the name.

When Ron returned, he stated that being a Tamil language mass, he was the only lily white person there. The church was overflowing into the courtyard and beyond to the edge of the street. He was not in awe of the music, partially due to the language, but also the instruments were too different for his ears.

We went looking for a recommended restaurant that serves a particular version of Indian food indigenous to Malaysia, but when we found it, it was closed. I did not bring my wallet thinking that carrying the backpack with the computer was enough; we were relegated to finding a restaurant that accepted cards. By chance we found one and it must be the gayest restaurant in Malaysia. The ‘hostess’ was so butch she makes my father look like Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. Each of the waiters was more flaming than the next and we half expected a pyrotechnic display before we left. We verified they took credit cards and agreed that MasterCard was acceptable.

Being a balmy evening, we sat outside with diners at five other tables. We ordered a full meal, being Christmas Eve and all. As the evening progressed, additional tables and chairs were set out on the street to fulfill the growing demand for food and drinks. When we were ready to go, the count was up to twelve tables all filled with customers waiting. Asking for the bill, Ron handed over his charge card. It seemed like an impossibly long time before the waiter retuned and said “I am sorry sir, there is a problem with your card. We have a chip card reader and your credit card does not have the chip.” I had read about this issue in Europe, but would not have imagined it would have appeared here already. Apparently, all of the credit card issuers in Europe are changing their cards to have a computer chip in them. The retailer inserts the card into a reader, negating the need for swiping it; supposedly this is to reduce fraud and problems with the magnetic strips. However, since North American cards do not have this chip, travelers have encountered this problem when traveling. The solution is to tell the retailer to swipe the card the ‘old fashioned’ way as their chip readers are dually capable. They supposedly tried this, but it did not work. I told them to punch in the numbers manually, but they said that did not work either. Between us, we only had 50 Ringgits and the bill was 69. After discussing the matter with the waiter, then the hostess, we finally worked our way to the manager. I kept insisting that if they did it right, it would work fine. Proof was that it worked in KL just days ago. They insisted they were not trying again. We gave them our 50 Ringgits and signed an IOU for 19 more. How humiliating is that? Merry Christmas! Where is Santa Claus when you need him?

When we returned to the hotel at 11:30, the lobby was black and the front door was barred shut. The way things were going it would not have surprised me if we found the only hotel with a curfew and we were locked out of it. As we peered into the window, we saw a security guard who opened the side door for us and had our key ready. Not quite Santa Claus, but he did do in a pinch.

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Birds, Bees, Orchids

Having a room free of insects and with clean sheets, makes for a good night’s sleep. The television even has more channels in English than we do in Hungary. An interesting cultural note is that in all three of the hotels so far, the bathroom is truly a water closet. The shower is not separated elsewhere. You shower where you toilet and the toilet paper is under some protective covering so it does not get wet. Also, each bathroom has a separate hose to be used like a bidet. Now I thought this was a custom for women only, but when I went to the men’s room at the Handicraft Center, all of the stalls there had this hose with a nozzle also. I have heard that Orthodox Jewish men have some restrictions about touching themselves, so perhaps this is the same with Muslims also. I am not going to ask around.

We had to break into the Euros to exchange money this morning in order to get breakfast. We have not had Ron try his luck with his ATM card again. If Bank of America has shut down his card too, well I just don’t want to think of that situation at the moment. When we passed restaurants on our way to Starbucks, I rationalized why we do go there. Besides the fact that none of the restaurants serve coffee, we witnessed what people here eat for breakfast. At 9:00 am, people are sitting at the outdoor restaurants eating duck, pork soup, soup with noodles, another words, all of the same things they eat for lunch and dinner. Now I have been known to eat pizza, left over spaghetti, and chicken for breakfast, but I don’t make it a regular practice. What you don’t see here is what you would consider breakfast foods unless you go to the American style places. Rationalization part II: Starbucks gives free WiFi. Even if I am not going to use it, it is nice to support them. With Internet cafés all over, I have yet to see any WiFi hotspots other than Starbucks.

The National Museum is located near the Bird Sanctuary, the Orchid Farm, and the Butterfly World. None of them are accessible by public transportation, so we had to take a taxi. The hotel desk clerk told us not to pay more than 10 Ringgets for the ride. Well this knowledge did not bid us well as three taxi drivers refused us for that price. We suggested we pay the meter, but was told that they will not use meters in the city since the traffic is so bad. After settling on 20 Ringgets we found a ride.

The National Museum is another gargantuan complex with little open on the grounds. The museum itself is open to the public for an entry fee of 2 Ringgets. It has been years since I have been on a football field, but my guess is that the whole of the museum is smaller than one. What was there was interesting, but there was not a great deal there. A foot bridge connects this underutilized space over the eight lane highway to the National Planetarium. Walking through the parking lot, you can find the Bird Sanctuary. Admission here is 30 Ringgets and despite the fact that it is the world’s largest, we thought the admission was for the birds and all too high. Across the street, the Orchid Gardens was charging a reasonable 2 Ringget admission, so we submerged ourselves in orchids and the national flower, the hibiscus. We went to the butterfly gardens in Thailand, so skipped it here. Returning to the bird side of the road, they have coupon taxis where the rates are fixed by zones, giving us a bargain fare of 15 Ringgets for the ride back to the hotel.

After dropping our laundry at the service next door, we took the monorail to the Malaysian Cultural Center. They have a 45 minute dance performance highlighting the different dance styles throughout Malaysia. We did not realize that parts of Malaysia are not connected to the peninsula, but across the sea. There are two states attached to Indonesia, called Malaysian Borneo, Sabah and Sarwak with Brunei in between. Sabah and Sarwak are larger than the entire peninsular country. The show was vibrant with costumes from all of the different Malaysia States; this country of 24 million has a cosmic number of cultures, costumes, and dance traditions. What really dazzled us was the way the women dancers use their hands in dance. One dance was a hand dance while sitting on the floor. They are able to bend their hands backwards and make unusual contortions making them extremely demonstrative. We found later that they have to start bending their hands backward starting at 2 years old to stretch them to perform these moves.

Then it was time for a nap, reading, and writing. Afterward, we went walking down the street around the corner for a dinner place. Basically, they all look alike, so it is difficult to make an informed decision. Basically, we stopped when we reached a section of the street we had not eaten at yet and where they had menu items other than fish. I don’t eat fish at all, but there were a number of Internet articles on fish contaminated with a new not easily detected parasite throughout Asia, giving Ron pause about ordering seafood. Normally, this would be his choice. We again had chicken curry with fried rice and greens cooked in garlic, sharing a large beer. It is one of the few things on the menu we can understand other than deer, or frogs that does not have gills.

We wandered over to Starbucks to check e-mail and confirm our reservation for our hotel for tomorrow night. We leave for Melaka tomorrow afternoon. It was a tight fight to find a table near an outlet so I could plug in the computer. The place was mobbed at 10:30 pm and they are open until 2:00 am.

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Jet Lagged Still

My internal alarm went off long before the mechanical one. By 3:00 am, I was awake and could not fall asleep again. I refused to sit in the bathroom to read; my only other option was relaxing and trying to coax sleep back for a few more hours. My last peek at the clock was at 5:00 am, then the next thing I knew there was an annoying noise grating on my nerves. It was the alarm clock. Ron woke long enough to ask for another hour, so I shut off the alarm not to wake again until 10:00 am.

Out the door in search of breakfast, the hotel does not provide it and doesn’t have a restaurant, we combed the streets. There are no ‘breakfast’ restaurants and all that were open were offering the same menu that services the lunch and dinner crowds. Noodles with chili are not our idea of breakfast food. Ready for the hissing session? We went to Starbucks. Yes, Malaysia has what Hungary does not, Starbucks. To top it off, they have free WiFi too in all of their locations. This will be a favorite resting place for checking e-mails and uploading the blog. We have not seen any signs for WiFi anywhere, though there are numerous Internet places. A medium latté is only $2.00 as opposed to double that in the States or even in Vienna. What a bargain.

The traffic here is incredibly congested. Walking across the street is hazardous to your survival. They do have that little green man sign that signifies it is your life opportunity to go from one corner to the next, but the vehicle drivers see this as another opportunity to pay “Hit or Miss”, completely ignoring the red light that is supposed to keep them in place. We decided we needed to explore the ‘extensive network of transportation options available. Buses are out. They are prone to the traffic jams that the cars are stuck in and movement is negligible. The doors are kept open and they are so full, passengers are straddling the steps holding on while the bus inches along in the myriad of the motoring nightmare. Motorcycles are the only modes of transport that are not inconvenience by the flow, but they weave in and out. If one attached yarn to them, they would create a most dazzling tapestry within a few blocks.

There are no subways, but they do have a subway like train that for the most part is above ground. With an insufficient number of cars, it is quickly full to capacity and the ‘beware of pickpockets’ announcement is continually repeated. We bought a day ticket for unlimited usage, but it is for this light rail train only. To use the monorail that roams parts of the city, we would have to buy another ticket or full day pass. Our day pass cost us $1.50, so we intended to get our monies worth, but first things first, we need to find a place to stay come Thursday. Ron only booked us for two nights where we are at and he refused to stay longer. The lack of a window is more than he can handle. I rather like the darkness, finding it easier to sleep.

We made our way to the tourism office at the ‘great market’, but it was closed. The sign redirected us to the main office. The great market is a huge building built in the late 1800s. today is houses crafts people and merchants to sell their wares. It is two stories with few food options upstairs. With tons of things on display, there is nothing that catches our eye as a must have item. All of the colors of the fabrics are color combinations or patterns that our Western tastes curl our noses up at.

Ron had his list of questions for the tourism people, so we headed in that direction. The central station is ultra modern, but is not for regular trains, but for the light rail and the monorail. Planning our great escape from the city, Ron asked where to spend a couple of days outside of KL, so we will leave here for two nights. We also have a 7:00 am flight coming up, so we had to find a hotel closer to good transportation. We are taking an Air Asia flight and they do not fly out of the major airport. Getting there is going to be tricky at that hour of the morning, with 2 hours ahead check-in time. He made a suggestion of a hotel across the street, so we will check it out.

On the tourism’s list of 10 top festivals in KL is one called YES Year End Sale. Apparently, this is a big event. After peppering the tourism guy with questions, we went to the KL City Center, located in the twin towers of the city. The twin towers until very recently held the distinction of being the tallest buildings in the world. This was just outdone by Taiwan. The buildings are really beautifully designed and it holds a humungous shopping center with all of the best names. Prada and Louis Viutton are there as well as every other designer name you can mention. Along side of them, there is the mandatory McDonalds, KFC, Chilis, San Francisco Coffee Company, California Pizza Company, Kenny Rogers Roasters, and the likes of every other bit of Americana imaginable. In the center courtyard is a skyscraping tree decorated for Christmas and all of the halls are decked with holly. It is seemingly incongruent to see woman strolling around with burkas or just hajib head scarves. This is not just a browsing mall; everyone is loaded down with bags. This community is affluent.

Outside the back of the mall in the twin towers courtyard, there is a large pond with a fountain reminiscent of Las Vegas. The water sprays, dances, and performs, but not as elaborately as in LV.

We looked at the hotel recommendation. The only thing it has going for it is that it has windows in the rooms. The rooms are small, but at $15.00 a night, you cannot ask for much more. I would have opted for something better, but that would only increase the transport issues for flights.

Searching for some cultural events, we had been informed by the tourism office to go to the Malaysia Cultural Center to find out what was being offered. The grounds are well appointed, but interestingly, they only offer events a few times a week. They suggested we attend the dinner show next door since it was daily there.

For dinner, we ventured back to our hotel territory and thought we were going to the restaurant where the man had been so nice to us the day before. However, we undershot his place by one outdoor restaurant and did not realize it until we had ordered. We shared satay of chicken and beef, fried rice, and vegetables in garlic sauce. The satay was not very peanuty, so this was disappointing. Sitting behind us was a real blow-heart full of himself older man who started carrying on with the Australian couple sitting next to us. I was so relieved when he said he was Canadian and not American.

Across from the restaurant is a shop that is nothing but Christmas décor. It seems so out of place is this city of primarily Muslim people. I cannot say for a fact, but I don’t think they have a Christmas tree and Santa Claus. As I was walking to the curb to walk to the door of the shop, I felt something knock into my ankle, which caused me to jump. When I looked down, I caught the last glimpse of something small and black flit under the cartons of the knock off designer watch street vendor. He looked at me and said what I think was “RAT”. I am hoping he said “CAT”. I did not see a tail, so I am not certain.

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Off We Go

We are leaving in an hour for Vienna. We will stay overnight and fly to Malaysia on Monday. Weather forecast in Kuala Lumpur is thunderstorms and flooding for the next 10 days. Here is hoping for the best.

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Good Morning, Vietnam

How can 22 different embassy web sites be wrong, I ask you? After looking for the Vietnam embassy address, we found the same listing on all web sites, but when Ron went there, they were no where to be found. A call into the US embassy did the trick, we found the corrected address and this morning, we went to apply for our Visa for December. First we had to have pictures taken in one of the photo booths in the subway. Two photos per application please! This was a comedy of errors since the machines are obviously made in Italy. All of the signs are in Italian. Of course, we had a late start and was fumbling for change once we were at the booth. Our plan was to have two snaps and immediately change seats so we could get 2 and 2 with the same amount of money. BUT we were fooled. The flash only goes off once and you get four of the same shot. Better look pretty the first time or you are out of luck. After scrapping for more bills (recommended) and the balance in change, Ron had his chance. Off to the embassy, tiny, but orderly embassy with two women and one man working, we had our applications in and were out of there in 20 minutes time. One sheet, easy to fill out application and two photos was all it took. They keep our passport until it is completed. We can return on Monday for them. Viola!! Simple. The Visa is 9,000 Ft each. Our Visas for Cambodia and Malaysia can be obtained at the airports.

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