KP in KL

No sooner had I unpacked my bags upon my return, I found myself jumping into a weekend full of activities KL style. For those of you unfamiliar with KL style, I've coined that term myself just now as a way to describe pretty much everything that goes on here in KL and how it's always just a little different that you would expect it. Take all the mishaps in my previous posts for example.

We started off the weekend by going out with a group of people from Paul's office after work. Paul and I were the only Americans, which is just fine except that we all know my ability to understand any accent other than Texan is about as good as my ability to speak Spanish. Es no bueno. This would have been a very normal outing, except that some random guy from South Africa complete with the South African accent, who I'm not sure if his name was Chris or Buddy, decided he would join our table before I got there since he was by himself, and no one ever really figured out who he was or what he did. I talked to him, or really he talked mine and everyone else’s ears off most of the evening, and the majority of the time I thought he was with Paul's company, seeing he just inserted himself into every conversation and wasn't afraid to give a South African history lesson to change the subject. I was confused about this guy for most of the night because I couldn't quite figure out how he fit into the Subsea 7 picture. When I finally realized he didn't fit in the picture at all, I think that left me even more confused. He made his way out of the group just as easily as he did in, and left everyone scratching their heads saying, who was that guy? Aside from the Chris/Buddy confusion and over talkative nature, we had a good time and I actually managed to understand at least 50% of the conversations, so I think I'm improving. Right before we left I literally ran into a guy walking around a corner, and it turned out he was an Aggie from Cypress, Texas. Small world! I had no problem understanding his accent.

Afterwards we went to the open-air Indian restaurant with Barry and Ewan, two guys from the Houston office who are here for a few weeks, so they are getting to experience KL style with us. All we really wanted was the nan/crepe type thing in the shape of a large birthday hat. Now, ordering with that description in English from an Indian guy who doesn't speak any English doesn't really work so well. The waiter seemed to be trying hard to get us the big hats, but in the end they said they were out and we settled for garlic buttered naan and some chicken with black sauce. For your stomach's sake, I would not recommend the black sauce chicken.

Saturday Paul and I both went to get haircuts at the Pavilion. This was my first experience at the Andy Ho Salon with Chris, the silent hairdresser. I came out with a good haircut I think, but I have never sat to get my haircut that long in my life. I was in the chair with the plastic apron thing choking my neck for a total of about 3 hours. And the way he worked went something like this: wash my hair, cut my bangs, cut someone else's hair while I sit, dry my hair, cut my hair some more, cut someone else's hair while I sit, dry my hair some more, cut some more, cut someone else's hair, cut another someone else's hair, finish cutting my hair, and then dry my hair again even though it was already dry two hours before. While all this went on, the gay hairdresser working behind me was yelling at the other gay hair dresser, "Moses! Moses! Mirror!" This was rather hilarious because he sounded as gay as he made himself look, and I never pictured a very small girly-looking Asian guy to have the name Moses. That was my entertainment to get me through the three hour cut. Really what made the waiting so bad was that each time they dried my hair, I had someone on either side of me, pulling my head in both directions so I looked like a bobble head, all the while the heat from the dueling hairdryers was being caught and magnified under my apron causing my back to stick to the leather chair. By the end of it all I just wanted to claw off the apron that left a red ring around my neck. And to really add to this sob story, we were supposed to meet Barry and Ewan at Din Tai Fung, only the most delicious dumpling restaurant of my life, but since they insisted on drying my hair for three hours, the guys were forced to eat without me. And I digress...

We decided to show the Barry and Ewan the electronics super store and afterwards stopped into Lot 10 mall for a Siew Bao since I missed out on the dumplings. No sooner had we stepped in Lot 10 a monsoon/typhoon/hurricane like rainstorm came so it seemed like a logical idea to buy umbrellas and forge the streets since it was likely the rain could last a few hours. The four of us were the only ones with this logical idea and realized we were the lone forgers probably because it turned out being not so logical. The water in the streets was up to our ankles, and the umbrellas were so small they weren't really keeping us very dry. The rain was coming down so hard it was bouncing from the streets back up onto our legs. As you can imagine we were all drenched. We finally squished ourselves and ten gallons of water dripping off us into the small taxi and headed for home. See what I mean when I say KL style? Every story, without fail...KL style.

With the combination of dreary weather and soaked shoes, it seemed like the perfect time to make chili and cornbread that evening for the four of us. By the way, cornbread, cinnamon rolls, and Chili are things that Malaysians and Singaporeans have had to ask me what in the world it is. They are seriously missing out! Anyway, I had purchased Chili Powder from the store, and assumed that even though it said Hot Chili Powder on the label, that it had to be the same as Chili Powder I'm used to. Isn't Chili Powder hot anyway? So I dumped the entire 3/4 cups of Hot Chili Powder in the chili along with the Cayenne pepper and Tabasco sauce that the recipe called for. It was smelling like home in no time and I was so looking forward to helping myself at least to seconds and possibly thirds. Then a bad thing happened. I tasted the finished product and realized that Hot chili powder really meant hotter than kick your ass hot sauce chili powder as my lips and tongue and throat were screaming in the heat of that small spoonful of what should have been deliciousness. What was I to do for Barry and Ewan, who's better halves are thousands of miles away and who have been eating black sauce Indian chicken and who knows what else for two weeks? The only thing to do was hope they can take the heat! The good news was I did find cornmeal at the grocery store, so the cornbread turned out to be delicious, but I don't think it helped the Burn Your Mouth Like Fire Chili issue because the cornbread was loaded with jalapenos. In the end, I'm hoping the peach cobbler and ice cream helped sooth the heart burn that was inevitable with this meal. So a little tip to those of you inexperienced with foreign spices like myself: test it before dumping in the full 3/4 cups of hot chili powder.

After all of these shenanigans, we went to Sunday brunch at the Westin with Paul's boss. Magically we ended up in the non-smoking section, and over-indulged in the all you can eat buffet of everything Italian. With stomachs full to the brim, Paul and I left and went to show the two guys from the Houston office China Town. Of course it was an experience in the heat of the afternoon, but we managed to come out with all the new release movies for $2 each from our friend Ugu Ugu.

As I read my own writing here, I'm beginning to wonder if all these things are really happening KL style, or do I, Katherine Stern get myself into these usually frustrating sometimes humorous situations on my own? Perhaps I should call it KS style.

Oh and lastly, all is quiet on my neighbor's side of the hall! No word from Lynn, aka Leen, aka Jane Smith, aka the money launderer.