KL - sleeping with mice and monkeys

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With heavy-hearts and empty wallets we headed to the bus station to leave Singapore for Kuala Lumpur. Our bus was (as with everything in Singapore) far more luxurious than anything we’d experienced thus far; three large comfy seats across each row, with electronic foot-rests and tilting seats. Strangely, we were informed almost immediately once we were on the bus that the toilet was “only for passing urine”, random.

We arrived in Kuala Lumpur and had the choice of heading towards the Golden Triangle or Chinatown for accommodation. We chose the wrong one (and quickly rectified it after one night) and spent a great deal of time marching around the streets in the searing heat trying to find some affordable accommodation - Malaysia is much more expensive than anywhere we’ve been so far (apart from Singapore of course) - and we finally settled on a dodgy looking place called Bollywood Guesthouse for 60RM per night ($18/£11). The hotel next door was being renovated and this meant some minor noise, but we were assured it would definitely stop early evening, no problems. However a drilling noise quite close to our room seemed to stir something within the walls which caused some movement. We kidded ourselves that it was the pipes or air conditioning duct and headed out to check out Chinatown for accommodation for the next night (hoping that it would be cheaper). The combination of our early afternoon accommodation search and our Chinatown accommodation search meant that we’d spent virtually all of our first day in KL looking for accommodation, rubbish. To make up for this we went out for a posh dinner (the best steak I’ve ever had, a massive Argentinean rib-eye; and a lamb shank for the Mrs.) And it was our 5 month wedding anniversary - where has that time gone to? - so that was an excuse for spending the very large sum of £32 for a meal out before returning back home to collapse and dream sweet dreams.

At least, that was the idea.

It didn’t take too long before it became plain that the noises in the wall were rats/mice, scurrying around and making a nuisance of themselves. This obviously isn’t an ideal situation for a hotel room you’re staying in, but it was made even worse by the two foot square hole in the wall of the hotel room that looked suspiciously like it could fit a cat through let alone rats/mice, so as soon as the squeaking sound reached near that opening I shot up and started moving our stuff to a room across the corridor. At which point the hotel receptionist man came over and asked what I was doing. I told him there were rats in the walls of the room, and we were moving to this other room. He smiled at me after feigning shock about five seconds too late and said “ok, if you are happy then I am happy”. I don’t know quite how I conveyed being happy about the situation, but clearly I need to work on my facial expressions and tone of voice! Now if it had been me doing the talking or the facial expressions, he would have known immediately that I was disgusted with the fact that they were renting out rooms that had rats or mice in the walls and that we were paying 60RM for the privilege, more than we’ve paid for most of our accommodation in South East Asia. The new room was smaller - it just about fit a double bed in, and had a concertina door into a bathroom. Well, it was a toilet cubicle with a shower head over the toilet, nice, and no sink. Anyway, a few minutes after we’d settled down in our new crappy room, there was a knock on the door. It was the receptionist man who dutifully said, “Rent pay please.” Well, well, did he really think that we might object paying for our room in the morning upon checking out because we didn’t want to pay rent for not only ourselves but for however many other creatures that were using the room that night? As it turns out, we couldn’t be bothered to argue and just gave him the money. Oh by the way, the following morning, he had rented out the rat room again. Skanks.

Anyway, it all had a happy ending as the second room seemed rat free, and we moved to Chinatown which has the feel of a poorer Kho San Road the next morning to a really nice, new and clean hostel called Monkee Inn. (60ringits a night - under £12 for an air conditioned double room.)

The next day we got a touristy activity under our belts and after we’d spent the morning sorting out some postal duties (mum: expect some more photo dvds in 2-3 weeks ... hopefully) we visited the mahoosive Petronas Towers. You can get tickets to go up to the Skybridge on the 41st floor, but that involves early morning starts and queuing apparently - we’re meant to be on holiday, so we gave the queuing and waking up early a miss! Instead we dived into the shopping mall under the towers and headed to the cinema to watch the 3-D version of Avatar. Great movie, cheap tickets and popcorn ... but Cate wasn’t too impressed with the climate control in the cinema, it was bloomin’ freezing in there! Unfortunately I had only shorts and a vest on that day so I spent the whole film sitting on the chair in a little ball trying to generate body heat through touch...didn’t work though unfortunately so I was like an ice cube about 10minutes into the (excellent) film! That’ll teach me.

Matt and I decided to treat ourselves to some (fake) designer sunglasses as he has had his cracked brown ones for years and my replacement Bangkok sunglasses have become cracked over time. We had to do a bit of bartering which was kind of fun. Matt’s guy looked like he was about to cry but mine was a good sport and in the end I paid 17RM(£3ish) for a pair of PRADA sunglasses (I just wanted some plain ones but no chance of getting that over here, everything has to be a designer brand,) and Matt paid 20RM(£4ish) for his Oakley sports sunglasses.

Getting a meal in Chinatown proved hard work, not through a lack of restaurants, but because every restaurant implemented such a hard-sell that it quickly put Cate off going there. Maybe I was just being grumpy but they are way too bossy...one man passed a menu to me then as I was looking he quickly took over from me, turning to the chicken page and telling me that the chicken was there. Why did he pick me out as a chicken eater? I’m really more of a beef person and thought he was an idiot to presume, so I told him I didn’t like chicken then quickly walked off. They really annoyed me!! ... But eventually we got sorted not before Matt pointed at a dish that had been served to someone as we walked by and told me that he thought, quite genuinely that they were worms. Bless him...they were udon noodles! Anyhoo, we settled down to a meal, with some interesting street entertainment - a character with a polystyrene guitar and a singing voice that was in danger of breaking our Tiger beer glasses.

Meal-time the next evening proved equally hard work ... we’d gone to the Sunday Market (held on a Saturday, confusing) to find out that it was pretty scant, so headed to Little India in search of a curry. “Search” being the operative word. We thought we would easily be able to find a nice curry house in LITTLE INDIA, but we walked, and walked and walked to no avail. Eventually we came across a place that was mentioned in our guide book. It was a small room with a few canteen-style tables lined up the side wall. I was determined I wasn’t going to go to Little India and eat a McDonalds (as that was the other option) so we went in, despite not only the menu but also the customers and atmosphere being sparse. Matt ordered chicken biryani which turned out to be different to what you would expect in England and I ordered a roti. I’m a cheap date at 20pence per roti. I had two, just as a treat. Matt went to choose a drink from the big double door fridge but amusingly there only seemed to be about six cans left, all of which were some sort of strange drink called 100plus. The roti were really tasty with their ‘gravy’ so I was happy!

And with a bus the next morning to the Cameron Highlands (from the scary Pudu Raya station - crazy touts trying to get you to their kiosk,) that was an end for Kuala Lumpur. T’was nice enough, but not as intense and fun as Bangkok or as sophisticated as Singapore; two very hard acts to follow.

Matt & Cate x

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Photos

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We were going to go in, but didn't want the hassle. Narf narf.

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Wow! In total awe obviously.

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How strong is my husband? He can hold up the Petronas Towers with his head!