Bollywood Comes to Town
KL, a mixture of cultures and races
My first CouchSurfing account had been hit and miss. Admitedly, I'd set it up to find free accommodation in expensive places so I made it squeaky clean and 100%!r(MISSING)eal. I met a few colourful characters and we had some memorable times but I couldn't escape the feeling that people weren't responding to my e-mails because of my origin. When a fellow CouchSurfer went out of control and I had to cancel my account to avoid them, I wasn't thinking of coming back any time soon. Eventually the situation calmed down and I had the choice of reopening a new account with my real details or with some bogus ones. I did both. One is Jack Vaughn
, an Aussie who likes to have fun. His goal in life is to drink as much beer as humanly possible. The second, well, is the real me: Slovenian and an all-round good guy. Whenever I came into a new country or town - Guangzhou, Singapore, Kuala Lumpur - I would log in with both accounts so that my profiles would register as Travellers who are in the area
. Without ever soliciting others, guess whose profile received five times more views? Jack also received e-mails from
Something for everyone
over a dozen different girls wanting to meet for drinks
. The Slovenian so far only received one, from a guy, and which reads as follows: Hello, I see that you are travelling in KL at the moment. I am offering my room for you to stay for few nights. Travelling is physically stressful, so I can provide you good massage for free if you want. Just let me know 😉
So, do guys from Down Under attract girls that go down under, while Slovenians only send out signals that get picked up by winking, openly gay individuals promising free massages? Before we can come to that conclusion it would be fair to explain that Joseph Santos’ e-mail was sent to every guy in the area - Jack received one too. Still, looks like a drunk Anglo-Saxon bogan is infinitely more attractive to the brainwashed Asian Generation X than an honest to god Slav. There's a lesson for us all somewhere there...
We're watching Germany massacre Argentina in the World Cup Quarterfinals. The Indonesian across from me is cruising for a bruising as he lites up one clove scented cigarette after another. Not smoking, just lighting them and
letting them burn. A real monkey, the type my friend serving time in Jakarta has a lot of experience with.
Meanwhile, two poms wearing Argentina jerseys are loudly discussing how England is better than the Gauchos since they scored more goals against the Germans. Would that make Serbia, the only team to have beaten Germany so far, the World Cup Winners? The trailer trash girls with them are chatting away about everything and nothing. Every second word is like
and they pay no attention to what is happening on the telly. Angela Merkel, mislabeled the German president
by one of the lads is shown after every German goal. She's absolutely grotesque!
exclaims the other guy whose girlfriend, thirty years junior to the German Iron Lady, has a similar face and figure. What is with the youth of today?
A middle aged, Middle Eastern, middle sex individual sits himself plumply in front of me and blocks my view of the TV. I ask him to move and he does. Apparently there is still some decency left in the world.
I try my Pringles but don't think Blueberry & Hazelnut flavour will be making an international splash any time
Detail of Islamic architecture
soon. Malaysian made and consumed it remains the only flavour even the local Mr. Potato hasn't copied (yet). Hmm, what could be the reason? Let me venture a guess...it tastes like Ribena on toast. Now, even the English wouldn't eat that.
In walks an American, arms swinging Popeye style across his XXL wide chest. If Sofoklis Schortsanitis
AKA Baby Shaq were white and a foot shorter, this would be his twin. I can't help but overhear as he exclaims what?!
over and over again in a thick Southern drawl. He seems to have trouble understanding the receptionist's plain English. I am reminded of a video I saw on youtube where an American tourist in London asks people for directions then asks them to speak English because he can't understand them.
A rare breeze comes in over the open terrace, bringing with it the stench of rotten, fermented tofu from a street side stall. We do our best not to be sick.
The match is over. The TV stands deserted. I scan the floor for rats, but there are none around today, the noise seems to have driven them away. And then...a white butterfly flutters around the reception area.
Joseph Santos' Car?
He'll give you a massage in the back seat ;)
There isn't a patch of grass or a tree within a radius of one kilometre.
There are fewer goat fuckers in the hostel than on my previous visits. Still, it is disconcerting to see the Saudi faggots stroll around town wearing tank tops, shorts and flip-flops while their token, appointed wives go around dressed like ninjas. I'm sure that if they were in the dorm they would keep everyone awake at night as they shamelessly wanked off - much like the Indians do in Singapore's hostels. Instead, here you find them surfing for porn on the net, buggering you how to use Skype and wanting to put you through to their son on the other side. Say what?!?
A year ago I mentioned to a white Zimbabwean that I had once met Robert 'Mad Bob' Mugabe
's bodyguard. Why didn't you kill him?
she asked in all earnest. Back inside the dorm, I could have asked the chubby, blond girl the same question when she enquired if the huge brown cockroach was still in the bathroom. It is, unless you killed it...
On a final note, an Oprah Winfrey look-a-like checks into the hostel and can't even pick up her backpack
Above a crumbling, dirty city
after taking it off for check-in. Next morning she wakes everyone up with her humming in the dorm. Later I find her seated in the reception area belting out, Nazi style, the Star Spangled Banner which drives a weird Arab over the edge. Harsh words are spoken, hand gestures used to illustrate the worst and the receptionist has to step in to calm down matters. The Arab had been pestering the (female) receptionist before. It is the only time I witness her lose her cool and scream at the guy to sit down and shut up.
Where do all these people come from?
P.S. Just before this went to press a beautiful Qur'an reading girl wrote Profile #2 and offered to drive him around town. Then again, she also wrote Jack. She wants to know if there's anything
he needs. Lucky Jack
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