Well the jet lag doesn’t seem to be too bad so far. I made it through to 11pm last night before I crashed, and woke up at 6.30. I can handle that. We’re going out for a walk this morning before it gets too hot, but I’ve got time for a quick blog before that.
Got to Fi and Paul’s place by about 8 yesterday morning. The fast train takes exactly 28 minutes and is apparently the part of KL public transport that actually works. Seems pretty good to me! Then I got a cab to their place, not too far from the city centre. They live in a residential compound which is quite common here, with guards on the entrance checking all the cars that go in and out. The guards asked me sternly who I was visiting, and made a phone call. I wouldn’t have thought one jet-lagged kiwi trailing a suitcase that smelled faintly of cheese would pose too much of a security risk but I suppose you can never be too careful.
After a restorative cup of tea and a nap, we went out for laksa at a little place a couple of suburbs over. I am going through the usual tourist experiences – the heat that hits you when you step out of an airconditioned car or mall, the heat of a proper laksa, the strangeness of it all enhanced by the metallic taste of jetlag. The spice of the laksa seemed to shake me awake though.
Paul dropped me off at the Crafts Complex, where I saw traditional brass and pewter work, batik and weaving, plus some very dangerous looking knives. There were a lot of signs everywhere saying “Respect our cultural heritage”, and a few signs saying “do not touch”, but the knives were on open display with no apparent security… I began to wonder if they were fakes.
KL was very quiet as it was the equivalent of the day after New Years and most people had taken the day off to make a long weekend. I walked down to Fi’s office to hitch a lift back with her, figuring the walk would help my body clock. Back at the ranch, we hit the pool – the water was the temperature of blood, so no actual cooling was achieved, but just being in the water was refreshing.
I did a few lazy lengths. Only 48 hours beforehand I was ploughing up and down the pool near my office, out on the edge of Paris, and today I was bobbing around 14000 kms away as the sun sunk behind the palm trees. International air travel seems just like teleportation to me sometimes.
We went out for dinner in another suburb, in a little cluster of restaurants. Ours was a little wine bar specializing in pork ribs – quite unusual in a country with a high Muslim population. The menu said “Seriously non-halal”. I have a compulsion to try everything, usually the strangest item on the menu. So I couldn’t go past the deep-fried coffee ribs with a coffee cream sauce. And it was really delicious! Pork works well with sweet accessories, and the coffee had a nutty savory taste to it anyway. It came with potato wedges and some of the freshest coleslaw I’ve ever eaten. Not very traditional but there’s plenty of time for that! It went well with a St Clair Riesling – goodness! New Zealand wine for sale! I was in heaven.
Fi and Paul were telling me about another pork restaurant they went to, recommended by a colleague of Chinese origin, where they serve whole suckling pig. They place it in front of you and cut it in half with the edge of a plate, to show you how tender it is. Then they take it and throw it into a bucket to smash it up for easier eating. This is very impressive the first time, but as the evening wears on you hear the smack of piglet on metal more times than you might care to. I immediately wanted to go, but I was completely full… so we went home and I fought off the jetlag for a little while longer.
 |
| Sunrise over KL, seen from the fast train from the airport.
From September 2011 - Rugby World Cup trip |
Got to Fi and Paul’s place by about 8 yesterday morning. The fast train takes exactly 28 minutes and is apparently the part of KL public transport that actually works. Seems pretty good to me! Then I got a cab to their place, not too far from the city centre. They live in a residential compound which is quite common here, with guards on the entrance checking all the cars that go in and out. The guards asked me sternly who I was visiting, and made a phone call. I wouldn’t have thought one jet-lagged kiwi trailing a suitcase that smelled faintly of cheese would pose too much of a security risk but I suppose you can never be too careful.
After a restorative cup of tea and a nap, we went out for laksa at a little place a couple of suburbs over. I am going through the usual tourist experiences – the heat that hits you when you step out of an airconditioned car or mall, the heat of a proper laksa, the strangeness of it all enhanced by the metallic taste of jetlag. The spice of the laksa seemed to shake me awake though.
 |
| The cultural - arts and crafts - centre
From September 2011 - Rugby World Cup trip |
Paul dropped me off at the Crafts Complex, where I saw traditional brass and pewter work, batik and weaving, plus some very dangerous looking knives. There were a lot of signs everywhere saying “Respect our cultural heritage”, and a few signs saying “do not touch”, but the knives were on open display with no apparent security… I began to wonder if they were fakes.
 |
| Fake plastic trees - From September 2011 - Rugby World Cup trip |
KL was very quiet as it was the equivalent of the day after New Years and most people had taken the day off to make a long weekend. I walked down to Fi’s office to hitch a lift back with her, figuring the walk would help my body clock. Back at the ranch, we hit the pool – the water was the temperature of blood, so no actual cooling was achieved, but just being in the water was refreshing.
I did a few lazy lengths. Only 48 hours beforehand I was ploughing up and down the pool near my office, out on the edge of Paris, and today I was bobbing around 14000 kms away as the sun sunk behind the palm trees. International air travel seems just like teleportation to me sometimes.
We went out for dinner in another suburb, in a little cluster of restaurants. Ours was a little wine bar specializing in pork ribs – quite unusual in a country with a high Muslim population. The menu said “Seriously non-halal”. I have a compulsion to try everything, usually the strangest item on the menu. So I couldn’t go past the deep-fried coffee ribs with a coffee cream sauce. And it was really delicious! Pork works well with sweet accessories, and the coffee had a nutty savory taste to it anyway. It came with potato wedges and some of the freshest coleslaw I’ve ever eaten. Not very traditional but there’s plenty of time for that! It went well with a St Clair Riesling – goodness! New Zealand wine for sale! I was in heaven.
Fi and Paul were telling me about another pork restaurant they went to, recommended by a colleague of Chinese origin, where they serve whole suckling pig. They place it in front of you and cut it in half with the edge of a plate, to show you how tender it is. Then they take it and throw it into a bucket to smash it up for easier eating. This is very impressive the first time, but as the evening wears on you hear the smack of piglet on metal more times than you might care to. I immediately wanted to go, but I was completely full… so we went home and I fought off the jetlag for a little while longer.
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