KL

So where was I? That's right, flying over Moe on descent to Melbourne. The air hostess was nice – she was Lebanese and had a Master's in banking. She said she thought she might work in a bank in Dubai next. One thing I noticed about the air hostesses on Emirates is that they're very chatty – far more so than any other airline I've been on. They talk about things you don't expect them to, and they're just very matey. Makes them seem a bit more genuine than the average airline hostess (I imagine they're supposed to be called stewards now or some such).

So down to Melbourne airport we went. What a disgrace. There were only two places to eat and both served unforgivably bad food. Really crappy sandwiches or pastries. This is an international airport! I felt sorry for the Asians – at least being Kiwi I knew how bad Anglo-Saxon food could be, but they're probably traumatised by it.

I just put some en dashes in this post using HTML. For those who know my technology phobias, this is pretty impressive. But I have to do it on e-learning projects at work, so why not my own posts. Nothing worse than a hyphen masquerading as an en dash. Well,I suppose murder and famine are worse, but let's say, as a punctuation crime it's right up there. It's fun deciding my own style for this blog – I thought I'd use double speech marks (not fond of how single ones can be taken for apostrophes). Not too sure about the serial comma – am leaning towards using it.

At any rate, Melbourne airport was very boring. My onward flight was delayed, so I had more than seven hours there. On the upside, they did upgrade me to Business Class. For much of my life I have wanted to be upgraded, and it happens my first time out with Emirates (smart move – they might get some repeat business there). I always figure booking under Doctor might get me a fair shot, but it hasn't worked so far. Of course, I often wonder what happens if they come to me mid flight and say, Doctor can you help? I'd have to say well if you want the situation analysed ...

It's a much better life in Business – it's so nice. The funny thing is that after takeoff they served what was described by my hostess as a very light snack. I thought, are you kidding me? I was expecting some kind of luxurious banquet, and they served one-bite sandwiches. Pretty nice, to be sure, but I don't think so ... Especially when I had a look through the curtain at Economy and noticed they were all tucking in to a meal. Yes, that'd be right, I thought to myself. I finally make it out of Cattle Class, and they figure we've moved beyond the need for sustenance. I can understand the need to pacify the masses – I think narcotising Economy is the right thing to do, but after Melbourne airport, I was really hungry. When the waitress – I mean hostess – came round again I asked for some more sandwiches. What would I like? Bring me a selection, I said. After that little pile, I have to say I was fairly satisfied. Smoked salmon, grilled vegetables, cream cheese ... They were all nice. Then, of course, I got stuck in to the double rum and Cokes, and each time I ordered one they brought a little plate fully of gourmet nuts – macadamias, cashews, and so on.

The seats in Business are ridiculous. I remember my Mum introducing me to the word sybaritic, and these seats are designed to illustrate the concept. They're insanely nice. Apart from elongating to a bed, you can fiddle with the controls to adjust just about every part of it. Oh, and it has various massage modes as well.

The screen is gigantic, of course. Though it needs to be – the seat in front is so far away, you can leave your meal there, get up, have a stretch, move in front of the seat beside you and step into the isle. Like petrol stations, space is power.

I belong there, I realise. It's not that I think Business Class people are better than the rest of us. I think in all likelihood they're not. I'm just saying I've found where I belong.

A few hours later they wheeled round a trolley with breakfast. They had everything. And it was cooked to perfection.

As usual I checked the news: "A Hastings man has pleaded guilty to hijacking a Mr Whippy van and throwing soft serve ice cream at people nearby." Like a pedo, I think he'd best keep his crime to himself in prison.

I also watched some TV – the UK show Outnumbered (also good after a couple of drinks). I noticed one of the child actors is called Tiger Honey-Drew. Nuff said. It does have the odd funny line, though. It's full of dialogue that children would never say – that's half the fun. Like when the father says sternly, "Well revenge isn't a good thing." And the young boy matter of factly replies, "It's quite a good thing – because then they know not to do it again." Cut to: the mother and young daughter in another room. "What's a slapper, Mummy?"

At some point I wandered down to check out the toilet. I pictured something palatial – perhaps an attendant in the corner. But no, they're the same size as Economy. I felt gypped. I'm paying for this – well, someone is. Let's face it, guys, it's pretty hard to get your aim perfect in an airline toilet. My aim's normally spot on, but even I'm hard-pressed here. They should just hang a sign: Men, do your best.

Sadly it had to end, and soon enough we landed in Kuala Lumpur. I bought some Duty Free rum and headed for the exit (lest it seem like I'm a piss-head, I might point out I go many months at a time without drinking anything – I only like rum and I enjoy it on holiday, as you can see). I long ago gave up trying to find Customs in Asian airports – I figure if they want me they can find me. I caught the express train into the city and a taxi to my hotel. My hotel, the Classic Inn, is fantastic. Very clean, friendly, and in a superb location.

By this time I'd been awake at least thirty-six hours. I have to admit, I didn't smell pleasant. Unfortunately I couldn't quite check in yet, so it was off to the local mall for some food. Oh my God, what a revelation. It was just an ordinary eatery, and a dish that's probably made hundreds of thousands of times a day here, but it was superb. Nasi lemak, one of Malaysia's national dishes. Rice cooked in coconut milk, some curried chicken, roasted peanuts that pop in the mouth, deep-fried anchovies that just melt, cuttlefish in a tangy sauce, and various other condiments. What a great introduction to the country. Here's a photo taken part-way through ...

Finally I could check in, have a shower and get changed. I had to get a couple of things for the islands, so headed back to the mall over the road to go to the supermarket. It's quite an eye-opening experience, a Malaysian mall. I was really surprised by the number of people in costume. They didn't seem to be celebrating anything in particular - just wandering round in costume. Nice aesthetic lifestyle. Here's one I snapped ...

There seemed to be one particular costume I encountered so much it ended up being more like a uniform. The first photo here didn't quite turn out, but in a sense, the features are highlighted. These white dresses with black lines. Seemed to be some kind of quasi Tudor thing.

This one's a little less blurred ...

There are food courts everywhere in these malls ...

For dinner I headed to Jalan Alor, a street famous for its hawker fare. I had a deep-fried squid dish and a stirfried eggplant one. Interestingly they call eggplant brinjal, the Indian name.

This picture is of a human statue – fair bit of street theatre in KL.

Finally I got some welcome sleep that night. The aircon was soothing. I'm lucky, though; the temperature here is the mid to high twenties and the humidity isn't too bad. It was way worse in Auckland when I passed through.

One of the highlights of any holiday I take is the reading I do. I save up my best books for my holidays. I hit the jackpot with my current one – an anthology of the best of Men's Journal. The first article in one of those readings I dream about - literary journalism at its best (those of you I share good articles with will be getting this one sometime). The author is telling of various trips to wartorn and dangerous countries. He's recounting one in which, as a teen, he was sent to retrieve his brother, also a teen, who had gotten lost in a Central American jungle and now faced a possible leg amputation. Here's an extract:

"My father loved sending telexes. They were charged by the word, with a maximum of ten characters per word, and he could spend hours devising messages that gave him his money's worth. This one was addressed to the main post office in La Ceiba, the town in Honduras where Jon got his mail, and he'd obviously put a lot of effort into it: SCOTTCOMES TOHONDURAS TOMORROWPM. NOREPEATNO AMPUTATION BEFORETHEN LOVEMOMPOP."

I've counted them – every one of those is ten letters. After mentioning his summer vacation plans, he continues:

" 'Look', I said to my parents in the dining room, 'Jon has been nothing but trouble to you people for years; did you stop to think that losing a foot might be just the thing to straighten him out?'

I think that for the briefest of moments my parents actually considered the idea. Then my father shook his head. 'Let's not make a big deal out of this. All you have to do is go down there, get him out of the hospital, and put him on a plane home. You'll be back before you know it."

Didn't turn out to be quite so quick. Anyway, great article.

Well Sunday, I tried some deep-fried chicken thing that was exquisite. The chicken was so tender it was ridiculous.

One thing I'll say about Malaysians, they spend a lot of their life in queues. I've been in half a dozen so far, and I've only been here two days. Once I spent twenty mutes in a queue to buy a subway ticket!

So Sunday afternoon was spent wandering and lounging. I visited the largest English bookshop in Malaysia. The cooking section was huge. I browsed for a good while and bought a Nyonya cookbook This is a hybrid of native Malay and Chinese cooking). I liked the blurb on the back: "Learn how to cook and prepare main dishes such as Hee Peow Soup (Dried Fish Bladder Soup) ..."

Dinner that night was at an Indian restaurant and it was unbelievable. I ordered from the Chettinad menu the bhindi fry. And a chicken dish called nadan kozhi curry, a Keralan dish, I think. The bhindi (okra) were sliced lengthwise, then coated in a mixture of rice flour, besan flour and chilli powder and then deep-fried. They weren't fiery hot at all. They were melt-in-your-mouth tender. And the curry was subtle, well-rounded and utterly moreish.

Lunch today was quite a famous Malaysian restaurant/cafe. I ordered the mushroom chicken mee and a stirfried eggplant dish with spicy chilli paste. The chicken I could have as floss or pieces – apparently floss means shredded, which I opted for. Both were exquisite. I'll have to go back to that place.

 

Well I leave in a few hours for the Thai islands, so I'd best go and pack. I have a train cabin to myself for the night, and then six days on a National Park island (Koh Tarutao). There are no Internet facilities there (or much of anything except lagoons), so I probably won't be able to blog for a week. Merry Christmas to one and all.