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Published: November 17th 2007
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KL, KL
Okay, the towers are possibly the easiest thing to photograph yet. Point, click, perfect. From anywhere. Edit: pictures have been added!
Singapore was clean, efficient and altogether too nice. Kuala Lumpur is dirty, noisy and a city a little more to my liking. Rather than chewing gum patrols, there seems to be a citywide league of litter kings, smoking marathons and hacking tributes. Thick with smog and sneering locals, this is the kind of city you can imagine yourself going back to (and little did I know it, but I’d be back. Oh yes).
Aunja Backpackers is conveniently located across from the international bus station, a keen spot for all you coach lovers out there who fancy a transport-spotting hit at any hour of the day. I had a plan when I hit the mighty KL, Lonely Planet South East Asia - which is handily referred to as the yellow bible for travellers here - had marked off Batu Caves as a highlight of the city. The day after tomorrow was pencilled in and seeing as I had zero travel companions it was a goer. My usual city tactics came into play - head to China Town, wander around, have a few beers and try and sort head from tail. A few hours passed, darkness
Road to KL
And a possible ghost sighting on the middle right. Certainly not just reflections of light off the window... more likely some spirit. Haven't been watching Ghosthunter because it's such a terrible show... no way. *cough* approached and after dodging a whole family trying to get me to, as the intelligible young one phrased it, “come back to our home, meet my sister and have a good time,” found a bar to sharpen my somewhat hollow pool skills. I have to quickly point out here that every major Asian city (speaking with the benefit of hindsight - or hind legs, for those in on the joke) has a “Reggae Bar” on the walls of which will be plastered images of the great Mr Marley, marijuana slogans and Jamaican flags. Certainly not my local. Ahem. Or is that Amen?
Many beers and chats with the locals and international contacts later, I returned home to the Anuja. And what a place it is! They should let me write their advertising. Paper-thin walls! No more than five cockroaches per square metre! Scary doors (go there and gain understanding)! Oh, and a rooftop café… never open! Okay, I’m panning this place, and it deserves it, but it isn’t so bad when you can sit in relative isolation on the roof while contemplating the next can of beer and then watching in a little bit of wonder as a small
Meal Shot No.26
Lumps of meat and rice - my first KL food was going well. platoon of kittens slinks after the newly swollen mother. Moments later they are dancing sketchily around you trying to convince you that last chunk of KFC ain’t yours, but theirs.
By the time I found the right bus for the Batu Caves the next morning, the hangover had slipped away. The usual drill with buses seems to be to wait until they are full, then the cocksure driver repairs the engine and peels away. So, amidst the other rain drenched white people (yup, monsoon is awesome, just time your shelters well), the bus driver selected the single battered cassette tape for the thirty minute jaunt towards the limestone peaks. Led Zeppelin burst into life and I was happy.
First of all, the Batu Caves are free. Yup, when you have to pay for mostly everything everywhere, the chance to see a natural wonder for zero is a beautiful thing. Approaching the caves, the opportunistic tourist merchandise was in full force, with everything you might consider to be cave or gold-statue related. To be fair the statue was huge. The biggest replica of it’s kind in the world - the caves are a very holy place for Hindus, but
From the Anuja rooftop
Yup, that's the money shot. not at this time of year.
The steps were the best bit. Semi-wild monkeys (the first I’ve encountered) paraded on the numbered stairs, chasing each other about whilst copulating like, uh, wild monkeys. They let me pass as one of their own due to my dishevelled appearance, but hounded a keenly dressed Japanese family from beginning to end.
Inside, and it can certainly be termed “inside”, because the caves are absolutely huge, they seemed to be something out of a scene from Indy’s Temple of Doom, minus the fire pits and skull blood drinking. Small muscled children darted about, carrying stones and metal scaffolding… apparently they were full grown men, but I say NO. Construction work of many kinds scrabbled at the cave sides like blocky spider webs, the aforementioned child-men wielding hammers and cigarettes as they mimicked the monkeys outside. And, as you can surely testify by the pictures, this is a beautiful place. The first word to mind is Cathedral. Natural arches and pillars are everywhere. All you geology nuts would be loving this - yes you Ben… oh and thank you for the continuous, spot-on research as to the creatures/formations that I see Benji, you’re
My feet, circa July '07
Just thought you might be in need of a picture and the current high fashion treads at the time (which have long since deteriorated and been given away) a star. A supernova at that. Umm, not that you’re exploding or anything. Buddy, I love you man, I couldn’t stop laughing at the beetle report from Budapest).
Little shrines and temples squat in the darkness, a range of idols and icons teetering on their own or propped up by the supportive blue arms of the next in line. Continuing the aforementioned cathedral analogy, everyone is very quiet in the furthest caves (those away from the mass of construction). Foreigners stare awkwardly at each other as the lines of worshippers wave incense and ask for blessings. Just like Christian churches, I feel wholly out of place. This isn’t somewhere for me, but for these other people.
But what the hell, it’s free and has monkeys. Go check it out.
After another day of wandering around my sure fire pick-the-biggest-building-and-aim-for-it paid off well, and a ticket to the Cameron Highlands had been found. As for the rest of the city, the Petronas towers are scarily photogenic. No wonder they feature on every single ad for KL across the globe.
Ok, wait. Rolling back to the decision of the Cameron Highlands. This is the beginning of the “Great
Ahoy caves. And statue.
Like some King-Kong nemesis, the statue loomed large. And gold. Malaysian Plan Deferral Scheme”. I had no previous intention of hitting the highlands - damn, I’d planned to be in Malaysia for no longer than two weeks. Well, we all know how that panned out. Effectively, the story goes like this: My isolated alone time on top of the Anuja was broken by the arrival of a horde of American youngsters on a four-week-visit-the-world-deal. I was in no mood for the barrage of questions, so grimaced sweetly over my can of Coke (god bless Coca Cola… I’ll get into that mega-corporate weakness at a later date) until the teachers came up to shoo them all away, handed me a beer, chatted travelling and giving in to the opportunities of chance… and everything was, as they say in every tailor shop across the land “lovely jubbly”. So the process of me giving into whimsy began. An off the cuff comment by one of the teachers started the ball rolling. It is all his fault. I made my decision with the aid of the much-lauded approach of flicking through a Malaysia Travel Guide and stopping at a page. Rolling hills, quaint little villages and loads of tea drinking and pipe smoking natives.
The gates...
The caves are behind me here - there is no motorway on the inside. No, it wasn’t the Shire! (Okay okay, is that even funny?) Anyway, it was the Cameron Highlands. Thus, scoundrels, my next destination was chosen.
So, time to move forward and perch on that hyper air-con coach. Damn them thrice over - take an overcoat, scarf and gloves next time. To the Cameron Highlands! The scariest coach journey yet! But we didn’t crash. A few motorbikes went careening towards the edge at times, but nothing too drastic. The roads would have been an advanced course on Colin McRae rally “EASY RIGHT INTO DANGER JUMP INTO HAIRPIN RIGHT INTO WATERFALL INTO HARD LEFT etc”, let alone using a juggernaut of a coach. Sigh, no drama this time (just you wait for the Medan to Banda Aceh though… that was like Burnout Revenge).
Okay, blog done. I hope you enjoyed the babbling. And next up the glossy tea stained hills of the Cameron Highlands, where there is the first taste of jungle and the beginning of the rotating travel buddies system.
Tommy (kiss kiss to all the girls and manly pretend gunfire towards the boys, complete with salutes, explosions and throwing knives)
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Sgt LiNeN
non-member comment
Dakka dakka dakka
Uzi gunfire and hand grenades back at ya, Spaced style. Did you get any monkey photos for Ben to research?