KP in KL

A small precursor to the month ahead:

Well, I haven’t even made it out of the city yet, and my blogging about my trip to Singapore has already begun. You know what that means. Things are never just normal with me. To update you, Paul and I are flying out today (on separate flights) for Singapore where we will spend the next month or two in a hotel while Paul works on a project there. Don’t feel left out if you didn’t know this. I just found out less than 48 hours ago and here I sit in the airport.

To begin my trip, you should have seen me lugging my 55 pound bag and overloaded carry-on down the broken sidewalks, across the big intersection of traffic, down the escalators to the subway, and all the way to the “Sentral” station all by myself. I do feel like an accomplished big girl since I did all this on my own today as Paul is usually the pack mule, but as you can imagine it wasn’t pretty. I think I almost pulled my arm out of socket trying to lift the bag up and down the curbs while dodging traffic, and was drenched by the end of it all. If only I was drenched in rain instead of the alternative. Bottom line is, I managed to check my bag in and let Paul know I made it to the train without being a casualty of KL traffic in the process.

After the subway ride, I got on the express train at KL Sentral Station to go directly to the airport. Seeing that there were more than enough seats to go around for the small number of passengers on this trip, I chose a group of four seats facing each other and put my carry on in the bag next to me. I waited for everyone to board for about 5 minutes, thinking if it got to full on the train I would happily get up and move to a single set of seats and give a larger group my set of four. But it didn’t fill up, and I settled into my king size suite with a perfect view of the tv. Just as I did this, I realized I settled in too soon. A very tall lanky man wearing Timberland boots, t-shirt blinged out in gold designs, and a blindingly gold necklace and watch, who looked like he should be doing hurdles in the Olympics, in fact I’m almost certain he did win half a dozen track events at one time in his life, walked in, surveyed the seats around him and stood in front of me. I too surveyed the many empty seats around wondering why in the world he was standing up, then I quickly put my head down and attempted to look very busy on my phone and refrained from making eye contact in an effort to keep this king size suite to myself. Apparently it was this very charm that did him in because he asked to sit by me. Who does that?!

Pretty sure this guy could have been his brother...or brotha.

I have this thing where I like my personal space, and I don’t like to share it with strangers. Well, I pretty much realized I better get over it for the next 28 minute train ride because not only did he sit in the group of four with me, he sat directly across from me, with his long hurdler legs under my seat and his knees almost touching mine. These lanky legs of his had me pinned in, and I would have had to do hurdles over them to get out of this tight position. Then, since his head was directly under the TV, I couldn’t look at the TV or else it looked like I was staring directly at him. I consider myself a somewhat socially awkward person because I am pretty terrible at dealing with social situations of any kind, and have a hard time coming up with things to talk about since I was not blessed with the gift of gab. If I had any nails to bite off I would have dealt with this situation by eating them for my lunch. Needless to say, this was Awkward with a big fat A.

So with some giant Timberlands under my seat and knees in my face, I had no other choice than to engage myself in the conversation he tried three times to start. Turns out Ibriham is from Ghana, but lives in China, he’s not married and he loves iphones. I didn’t get around to asking him about his non-metaphorical track record. So for 28 minutes, we made small talk with several awkward silences. I hope he was not wanting me to show him to his gate at the airport because I high-tailed it as soon as we arrived to recover my lost personal space.

Now as I sit here at my gate in the airport, things are staying interesting as I watch what looks to be an entire plane of Romanians walking past me in their hiking gear, large backpacks, and Chinese pointy sun hats like you usually see on Asian people, not Romanians. I think this trip is just getting revved up! Just wait,… I’m sure there’s more to come over the next month. I’m so good at getting myself into awkward situations it’s impossible not to have a little thing or two to share.

We finally took a long awaited trip outside of the city this weekend. Paul, Ewan, Robert, and I piled into a blue taxi van. Since I’ve always had umpa lumpa legs to work with I’ve come to the realization that my legs serve a better purpose in a car with the smallest amount of leg room than they would on any runway, so I assumed my regular position in the way back where only I would fit. But, since it was a beloved blue taxi fully equipped with working a/c, it was the coldest taxi ride we’ve had since we came to KL nine months ago. And that, my friends, made the entire trip worthwhile.

With an Indian-Malay man named Deen as our driver, we first stopped seven miles outside of the city at the Batu Caves. We had been told that we couldn’t leave Malaysia without going here. There are apparently some 1.5 million people who visit this sight every year and it’s become a must see on the tourist list. The Caves are huge in the side of a mountain that’s just on the edge of the city. The only way to get there is to take the long hike up the two hundred seventy something very narrow steps leading in the cave. Any other week of the year, this would have been the whole story. Steps, sweating, caves, down the steps, and done. However, this past Wednesday and Thursday was the Thaipusam Hindu celebration where some 700,000 Hindus make their barefooted pilgrimage up the stairs to present offerings to their gods. Unbeknown to us, Thaipusam happened to carry on through the weekend with a little less congestion but with the same vibrant colors and festivities which we realized as we arrived and had to push our way through the crowd.

Deen took us in the taxi as far into the streets of vendors and tents as possible, and we made the rest of the way on foot passing stalls full of food and fruit juices while Indian music played in the background. As we maneuvered our way through the heaping mounds of trash and empty water bottles, I noticed a mountain of dark black hair on the ground. There were stalls scattered throughout the streets where people would sit in a plastic chair and have their head shaved bald. Then they would have some sort of yellow colored powder rubbed all over their bald head. Apparently this was all part of the ritual and tradition of Thaipusam. From the ages of about 3 to 50, there were bald people scattered throughout the crowd who for whatever reason thought it necessary to shave their head. I would come to wish later on as I took the steps up to the cave that I would have also shaved my head to relieve myself of the heat! There were vendors selling necklaces of yellow flowers and bottles of milk to offer when people reached the top of the stairs. Several people were walking through the streets dressed in bright yellow and carrying a silver vase-like container on their heads which were filled with milk.






We made our way into the line of people going up the stairs on the left and started the upward climb, while watching people come down on the right side of the steps. For me the people watching was the most interesting part. Because the rest of the story goes like this: up the steps, sweating from the sun on my back, up some more steps, up some more steps, more sweating, more sweating, reached the top. Smelled the putrid milk that had been dumped and rotting flowers baking in the heat, looked around at the huge cave, sweated some more, took the steps down, and sweated the entire time. Not very lady-like, I know. But in my defense it was extremely hot and humid taking all those stairs with a camera bag intensifying the heat on my back. The combination of milk, sweat, rotting flowers, piles of trash, barefoot people, and who knows what else made it an ideal place for monkeys and roosters for some reason, but I wouldn’t choose to hang out there. I took lots of pictures and we got back to the taxi for some cold a/c and water, to begin the next leg of our trip.










Now, if any of you watch the show, I Shouldn’t Be Alive, you along with my mother would probably like to ring my neck right now, because the next part of our day trip was to the Elephant Refuge. Apparently, someone was almost killed by an elephant on that show, and my mom has begged me not to get anywhere near the elephants (or chimpanzees for that matter) but in my rebellious justification, I had to get out of the apartment and do something! As you can see, the ending is happy, so no worries.
The drive there is about two hours and the majority of the drive is through winding roads and highways through the mountains, up and down some hills and all you can see is green jungle on either side. Inevitably the car sickness set in while I was riding in the very way back and I got a strange déjà vu feeling. Not sure if it was the greenery, or the winding hills, or constant changing of lanes, or probably the combination of everything that was exactly the same as our very first trip, but Taipei came to mind. At least this time I was working on an empty stomach instead of rice milk. We drove through a herd of cattle on the roadside which was unrestrained and no one was around working frantically to get them back in any fenced area like I expected. We passed several wild dogs, some traditional Malay homes on stilts, and finally a thatch roof hut on stilts with a shirtless man with unkempt long hair weaving something with straw. Finally we made it to the Kuala Ghandu Elephant Conservation park and I rejoiced I had not let my car sickness get the best of me. Victory!

Before entering the office of the elephant sanctuary, we added our shoes to the piles outside the doorway as per the sign which instructed us to do so. We signed in and gave our “donation” which was required if we were to participate in any activity. They played a fifteen minute documentary to educated people on the how and why of taking elephants out of the jungle and bringing them to this place. Afterwards we bought peanuts to feed several elephants that were semi-fenced in. I was surprised that they were like any other livestock I’ve dealt with in that they each have their own personality that they made very apparent in that short time feeding them. They all wanted peanuts, but one would make a terribly loud growling/barking sound to get attention, one would shove the other out of the way and take its food, and the big one at the end just stuck its trunk out and waved at everyone like, “Hey I’m here, don’t forget about me!” So we took turns feeding them and getting our hands snotted on. And if any of you were like me and thought they sucked the peanuts straight up their noses like the cartoons, sorry but that is not the way it works. They actually suck on the peanuts just enough to grab them with their trunk and then place the peanuts in their mouth. Afterwards we watched the huge animals do tricks like bowing for us and dance by swaying their big bodies and trunks from side to side. The men riding them looked dwarfed as they rode the elephants into the river and bathed them while the elephants just rolled over on their sides. We were witnesses to the fact that the elephants do actually use the restroom in the water, and the amount they discard is relative to their body size, which made up my mind to not bathe the elephants myself as many people would later on. We were then given the opportunity to ride the elephants around a little track fenced in only by a rope. Paul was situated toward the middle of the huge animal, so he got to balance his rear end on the huge protruding backbone, and I don’t think he cared for that too much. As we rode the elephant swatted my legs with it’s ears, and it’s coarse hair poked into my legs. As my friend Ellen said, it’s not exactly a pleasant ride. But, I can say I’ve done it and did so without having to be on an episode of, I Shouldn’t Be Alive.