Off to Malaysia

The trip to Kuala Lumpur began with the kind of situation that can really only arise far too early in the morning before a flight. I’d booked a taxi to the station. The taxi driver was ten minutes away and messaged me to discuss whether the right destination had been selected in the app.

I needed to get to the train station. He wanted to solve a problem that would only become relevant after he’d picked me up. I wrote back that I honestly didn’t care which destination had been selected, because if he wasn’t here, how was I supposed to get anywhere at all?

I made the train and the flight. On the plane, I once again discovered the universal laws of commercial aviation:

• There must be at least one baby or toddler on board.
• At least one baby or toddler must be seated within five rows of Mathias.
• For every hour of flying there must be five minutes of crying or screaming nearby. Note: sometimes Mathias joins in the wailing.

While I’m sitting there enjoying the view out the window, sparks suddenly shoot out from the jet engine behind me, followed by a muffled bang. Over the next few seconds the seatbelt signs flashed, the cabin crew were called to their seats, and the captain said something over the speaker that I couldn’t make out. He talked for two minutes. A small voice in my head pops up and says: Hey, wasn’t there something about a Malaysia Airlines plane that mysteriously disappeared a few years back?

It didn’t help that a steward walked down the cabin ten minutes later spraying air freshener. I’m now on full alert. When we line up for landing shortly after, I sit staring out the window at the engine. Is it just me, or is it shaking more than usual? And then we landed without any problems.

I guess jet engines just explode a little bit every now and then.

First impressions

First impressions of Malaysia are positive. I sat on the airport train and watched the landscape glide by. There was well-built infrastructure, well-built housing, a train track that looked well-maintained, and roads along the tracks that also seemed in fairly good shape. The buildings didn’t look like they were falling apart or had been through a war.

I’m sure there’s poverty in plenty of places. But after Indonesia, and Medan in particular, it felt like coming back to civilization.

After months in a country where the sidewalks include big holes down to the sewer, I appreciate not having to constantly look at my feet while walking. I’m not asking for Japan-level. It would just be nice to walk on a sidewalk I don’t see as a potential health hazard.

It’s not that I’m sitting around philosophizing about sidewalks out of nowhere. I’m a walker. When you spend many hours every day walking around, you notice whether the experience is pleasant. Walking is transport, exercise, sightseeing, and how I find cafés and places to hang out.

An evening in the city

The first evening in Kuala Lumpur I was too tired to head back to the hostel, but also too tired to do anything sensible. So I went for a walk.

The city’s tall buildings were lit up. Kuala Lumpur’s skyline is pleasant. You walk around, turn a corner, and see a new cluster of skyscrapers. There’s a lot of varied architecture, and it doesn’t just feel gray and uniform. When I stand looking up at a hundred-story skyscraper, I still get that strange feeling of being small.

I also saw something again that I’d almost forgotten, because I hadn’t seen it in several weeks: influencers. They were everywhere among the lit-up buildings. Not with one camera, but with five phones mounted on a handheld gadget, each phone apparently doing something different. It’s actually impressive that they can manage that.

As I walk around the Petronas Towers, dodging influencers and eager street vendors, I come to KLCC Park behind the towers. A big city park with greenery, benches, and an artificial lake with fountains. Just as I come around the corner, the speakers get turned up. Pop music plays in the park, and a whole fountain show starts up with lights, colors, and water choreographed to the music. Apparently there’s a fountain show at nine in the evening, and I’ve completely coincidentally ended up there at the exact time. I tend to just stumble into that kind of thing.

It was a good evening. Kuala Lumpur made a good first impression. Small buildings, then slightly bigger buildings, and finally the Petronas Towers. Maybe I’ll end up liking Kuala Lumpur. I like the sightseeing part so far. That’s not the same as liking being here, but it’s a fine start.

The red tunnel

I’d spent the whole day visiting hostels and hotels. Because of the rain I’d stopped at several restaurants, and late in the afternoon I’d had enough and just wanted to get home. The rain had stopped, but everything was still wet. As I make my way back toward the hostel, I go from small streets and alleys over toward the skyscrapers, with the Petronas Towers as my main target.

As I walk down the dark streets, I notice a lot of cars driving down a side street full of lights and restaurants along the road. They’re practically queued up to get down the road, and people are jumping in and out of the cars. Even though I’m not hungry, I’m curious enough to walk down the side street to see what’s going on.

I walked through the street of restaurants and into a small lit-up market. At the end of the market there was a large illuminated bridge. From the bridge tower I could see the river and the highway below. The bridge itself was a light tunnel that slowly changed colors. Like a sci-fi portal.

There were people taking photos, but because it had just rained, the crowd was fairly light. In front of me stood the towers with a small cloud at the top, making them look like they were smoking or steaming.

Hostels, towels, and rats

I’ve spent a surprising amount of time looking at hostels. The goal is to figure out whether I can be bothered living here for 3-4 weeks. The result is that I’ve practically turned into an inspector who goes around assessing showers, beds, curtains, air conditioning, common areas, staff, cleanliness, prices, and whether people actually seem to be talking to each other.

The hostel I’m staying at now is actually fine, and probably livable for a longer stretch too. It only costs 55 ringgit for a dorm bed and another five ringgit to rent a towel. The rooftop terrace is unexpectedly good in the morning around eight o’clock, before the others wake up. There’s free hot water and tea, and I can use my own instant coffee.

The shower has weak pressure. My microfiber towel is a good compact thing to have in the backpack, and I’ve used it several times when I’d otherwise have been without one. But it’s not a good towel. It’s functional. After a shower, I struggle to feel dry rather than coming out still a bit damp. In the middle of the night I heard rats running on the roof directly above my bunk.

And yet my current hostel is more appealing across facilities and price than pretty much everything else I’ve looked at.

Once I’d figured out that the rats were probably running along the ceiling, I settled down more. My top bunk, which I don’t normally care for, suddenly became a tactical advantage. It kept me off the floor and gave me a corner of the dorm from which I could keep watch in case the rat invasion began.

If they actually get into the dorm, though, I’m checking out the moment I can fight my way past them.

I’ve walked around 50,000 steps in two days. My feet and ankles made sure to tell me about it at night. I’ve also been mentally tired. Not just tired of sightseeing, but tired of constantly assessing: Is Kuala Lumpur a place I can be bothered staying? Is Chinatown too budget? Is Bukit Bintang too expensive? Would Penang make more sense? Should I find a community instead of just a cheap bed?

But I’m starting to warm up to the hostel. Not because it’s gotten better, but because it’s become a place I know. I know where you can sit on the rooftop terrace in the morning. I know where the tea is. I know the shower is weak. I know the towel isn’t really a towel. And I know, roughly, where the rats run around.

Every time I arrive somewhere completely new, I apparently pay for the first 24 hours. I compare, see all the flaws, and start looking for the next place before I’ve practically even unpacked.

Then I learn where the rats run around, and then it becomes more manageable.

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