Paid a penny and only farted

3000km makes one hell of a difference. The flight was perfectly punctual and except for a brief moment of weightlessness caused by some turbulence, easy to sleep with all three seats to myself. It’s the little things that make me smile; 7-11s dotted everywhere and selling bread; brown bread with chicken inside. I know I should be eating local cuisine, but I was beginning to consider prostitution in return for some wholemeal goodness. Coupled with Cadbury’s chocolate and the endorphins released are probably comparable to cooking up some Heroin.

The information desk at the airport was as helpful as any I’ve come across; so with 8RM shuttle bus ticket in hand it was an hour to Chinatown and a brief stroll along what appears to be the Khaosan Road of Kuala Lumpur – Jalan Petaling – to find Hostel. Or hotel, depending on where you book it. It’s a myriad of faces and races in this city; a nice mixture of Indian and Asian culture and fantastic grub as a result, even rivalling my beloved eatery Thailand. One pound fifty scores me a Chicken Chilli, rice and egg dish to die for. And with chopsticks firmly thrown out the window; consuming my delectable first meal of this country is made all the more joyous by the use of spoon and fork.



To the lake garden and bird park and a public toilet charges the equivalent of just 4 pence; providing toilet paper, a clean environment, western loos and most crucially – soap. It must be something to do with the British influence I’m sure; what with the roads about the same, huge oversized 3-pin mains plugs and the cars driving on the correct side of the road. Sadly as the rhyme of ages old goes I’m a little disappointed having paid a penny and only farted; still, it’s clear I aint in China no more. Can things keep on the up, I wonder and is this just temporary joy.

The sheer amount of tourists here coupled with history with “The Empire”, mean I’m not going to bother learning any Malay. Even though it’s phonetic and therefore plausible, there’s really no need. The local news rags are even written in my mother tongue; if it wasn’t for the climate I’d honestly think I was somewhere in the UK. That is, except for the extreme challenge in navigating by foot. Public transport here is a mash of overground, underground, non-interconnecting lines and hidden stations. Trying to navigate is about as frustrating as a chronic masterbator must find a double hand amputation; even with GPS watch and TomTom on iPhone and I’m still none the wiser.



Shopping malls aplenty beckon your wasteful nature, offering untold expensive luxuries from such giants as Harrods and Marks and Spencers; yes that’s right, MnS are here and prohibitively expensive to boot. Price seem strange to say the least; bags manufactured in nearby Vietnam are cheaper when shipped around the globe to the UK. Even electronics manufactured in the millions a few neighbouring countries down the road can be had for much less back home; yet Starfu*ks is strangely more reasonably priced.

To the rear of the KLCC mall behind the Petronas Towers and a 1.25k jogging track begs to be stomped for a few laps. It’s 5pm so I’d best get a move on; back to change and train out again. At 1.60RM for the monorail journey of 4 stops, it’s good value. Nine laps later and having seen some interesting sights along the track, I resolve to return the following night to capture some photons.

It’s been 7 months of Buddhism; with too many Temples to count, let alone name. Seven months of seeing the seemingly unrivalled influence of one curly-haired Indian dude (hence the curls on all the Buddha images). Seven months forgetting about other, more sinister ways of population-management; managing brainwashing and assimilation with the precision of a jack-booted German. South Korea made me angry with shouting singing idiots, hell bent on increasing their conversion stats and treating it much like a RPG addict treats levelling up. Though whilst a minor distraction and annoyance, it cannot compete with Islam’s followers.

Back in China and communism does a grand job in ensuring the population believes – whatever it wants them to believe – creating a nation of none-the-wiser but more crucially; none-the-interested in anything other than themselves. Here the same is true, but of the religion more than the government (indeed I suppose you could argue the two are one alike). Five minutes is all it took for the first person to approach and leaflet me; “No thanks”, I say after he asks “Muslim?” and sees my head shake a negative response. This is the first time in my puny existence that I have entered a Mosque – it ‘aint lookin’ great so far. Looking down the title “The One True God” headlines and as I chuckle to myself – scanning the area for nearest dustbin – I notice the looks from exiting males after what I guess is the last prayer of the day. It’s like being back in China; though here the looks are less of racism and clearly of hatred; squinting and looking me up and down, curling eyebrowns in to a snarl and double-taking does not for a welcome guest make. I’m happy to be here, wearing a deliberately permanent grin to both contrast with my fellow children of mother Earth and demonstrate my peaceful intentions of simple curiosity. The women that notice me are thankfully a few degrees warmer, smiling and nodding as they exit their own segregated room of prayer; having watched the projected image of their husbands in the room above (clearly men are vastly more important), say their respects.

But before I can extend tripod legs and lock them in place, I notice I’ve been shadowed by another individual, who seems to have required some time to work up the courage to communicate with this strange cleanly-shaved Caucasian; “Muslim?”, he queries and sighing I reply “No. I’m nothing.”

“Do you have five minutes, I would like to tell you about the trees and the heart.”
“I’m just taking some photos thanks.”
“So you are not of any religion?”
“Er, no. Like I said.”
“Have you read the Qur’an? I would like to talk to you for just 5 minutes.”
“I’m happy to talk to you, but not about religion.”

And completely ignoring my words he proceeds to engage in explaining why his religion is the only “true” one; why God is a Man – and most certainly not a Woman – how I will come to know “peace” through reading simple words on paper and how if everyone was Muslim – there wouldn’t be any fighting. Perhaps he will gain one virgin for each converted soul he destroys and just needs one more to level-up. Such incredible open-mindedness, understanding and accepting nature makes for stimulating intellectual conversation. So I’ll move on and pray to Allah that I find more accepting people of this clearly wonderful and joyous faith, in other places of worship; we live in hope.

The Batu Caves deserves a visit; there’s little else to do here after all. It’s a Metro 11 bus journey away and passing by schools – where children are sat outside waiting for transport – very easy to see segregation as the hijab cliques circle around, ignoring the children of other faiths. Whilst China has the option to evolve and change its attitudes toward non-Chinese through its youth; sadly I don’t see this mentality changing anytime soon.

It’s not difficult to miss; the giant image of Buddha dominates the area making it very easy to locate, despite the winding back-roads route the bus takes. Whilst I’m sure the image is a modern addition, it’s free to visit and the numerous monkeys fingering, grabbing and frolicking are at least more interesting to look at than the random statues. Only two hours killed – damn, looks like I’ll be procrastinating in a café until my overnight train this evening.


Kuala Lumpur; dull, in a nutshell. Great if you’ve a family of spoiled-rotten shitbags wanting to pick up fake designer-label attire to show off to friends during their Summer holiday from school; pants as a solo backpacker interested in culture and meeting people. Of the culture that does emanate, you can see it all in two days and be done. I think the initial elation has vanished; Thailand definitely holds all the trump cards on Malaysia.


Source: http://elfidge.blogspot.com/2010/08/paid-penny-and-only-farted.html