Showing posts with label Kuala Lumpur. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kuala Lumpur. Show all posts
June 07, 2010
June 06, 2010
I Want To Be A Better Person...
Tonight, I was wandering town, plans set on crashing a couple of the swank hotel bars for cocktails and something to eat. I ended up at this place I read about online instead called Hakka Republic. It was across from the Shangri La, where I was planning on going eventually. Hakka was right down the street from some of the more obnoxious bars in KL, where women stand out front asking me if I want "young girl cheap price." I didn't. I don't.
When I walked into Hakka, it was empty. It was sunday night and that was about the only reason. From what I hear, the place does well...and from the food and service and style, it better. The guy who greeted me at the door said they were doing a sunday buffet, and for an extra 30 MR, it was all you could drink Tiger draft. I hadn't been eating much since showing up in Malaysia and went for a long run in the morning...tomorrow is going to be a killer, so all day I was thinking about eating a big plate of good food. Though I never expected it to be as good as it turned out to be. In truth, the entire buffet was all for me - everything someone could dream of - tiger prawns to filet, short rib to pumpkin soup, handmade pasta to bread pudding. Knocked me out. Knocked me out.
At some point, the exec chef came out to talk to me. Then, the sous chef. They changed clothes and closed the kitchen and the exec chef came out and took some pictures of me loving his restaurant. They told me to finish my drink and took me to the parking lot. I got into one of the cook's cars and we drove to Chinatown because the sous chef didn't want me to get caught in any of the Skybar and Luna Bar traps that most foreigners get caught into. There, we wandered the streets looking for the perfect Durian - "corpse fruit" - banned in public places because it fucking stinks - but is also like nothing you or I have ever tasted - think cross between a mango and avocado. When we found a stand, we four sat down at a table on the street and ate this thing - three chefs and one fucking tourist. They wouldn't let me pay for a thing. Not the Durian, not the water it took to cleanse us from the smell of a "corpse," not anything. We walked for a bit and talked for a bit and then got back in the car. We talked about all the shit in the world before they dropped me off at my hotel, wanting nothing from me but company. Nothing. I told them there's a marathon in KL on June 27th that might bring me back and they said they hoped to see me. Then they smiled and drove off. And I...
I still don't know what to say. Thailand turned me so cynical, so cynical, everyone working something. Loved it, beautiful, but still. And walking away from this, tonight made me want to weep, made me want to give thanks to a thousand ears and not one of them gave a shit about hearing it. They just were what they were...are what they are...
And I have a lot of work to do.
When I walked into Hakka, it was empty. It was sunday night and that was about the only reason. From what I hear, the place does well...and from the food and service and style, it better. The guy who greeted me at the door said they were doing a sunday buffet, and for an extra 30 MR, it was all you could drink Tiger draft. I hadn't been eating much since showing up in Malaysia and went for a long run in the morning...tomorrow is going to be a killer, so all day I was thinking about eating a big plate of good food. Though I never expected it to be as good as it turned out to be. In truth, the entire buffet was all for me - everything someone could dream of - tiger prawns to filet, short rib to pumpkin soup, handmade pasta to bread pudding. Knocked me out. Knocked me out.
At some point, the exec chef came out to talk to me. Then, the sous chef. They changed clothes and closed the kitchen and the exec chef came out and took some pictures of me loving his restaurant. They told me to finish my drink and took me to the parking lot. I got into one of the cook's cars and we drove to Chinatown because the sous chef didn't want me to get caught in any of the Skybar and Luna Bar traps that most foreigners get caught into. There, we wandered the streets looking for the perfect Durian - "corpse fruit" - banned in public places because it fucking stinks - but is also like nothing you or I have ever tasted - think cross between a mango and avocado. When we found a stand, we four sat down at a table on the street and ate this thing - three chefs and one fucking tourist. They wouldn't let me pay for a thing. Not the Durian, not the water it took to cleanse us from the smell of a "corpse," not anything. We walked for a bit and talked for a bit and then got back in the car. We talked about all the shit in the world before they dropped me off at my hotel, wanting nothing from me but company. Nothing. I told them there's a marathon in KL on June 27th that might bring me back and they said they hoped to see me. Then they smiled and drove off. And I...
I still don't know what to say. Thailand turned me so cynical, so cynical, everyone working something. Loved it, beautiful, but still. And walking away from this, tonight made me want to weep, made me want to give thanks to a thousand ears and not one of them gave a shit about hearing it. They just were what they were...are what they are...
And I have a lot of work to do.
June 05, 2010
Kuala Lumpur...
It's been a long day that started at 630 with girl crying for me on the streets of Chaweng. That's a fucking lot to handle and I can't say I've ever handled the understanding of it well. The moment just came, and there was nothing we could really say about it...today, last night, the week approaching. At some point, feelings happened we could never talk through because of the barriers between us. The way we did speak had to be all too simple...for me, for once...through glances or touches or a thousand other things I can't really explain to someone until they've been in something like it. I thought about her all day after I left, about the things in life I'm capable of giving and the things I'm not...why the weight of the latter is so heavy and at what point things became that way.
Tonight, I went out wandering, looking for something like a super market then a place for dinner. First point of order was to prepare a double fist of Gatorade for tomorrow morning's run - my word, the heat here is supposed to beat Thailand - and fought hard for a while trying to place myself. Big town. Fast town. Crazy town. It's a lot less Asian and a lot more Indian than I expected. People are praying everywhere, all the time. The supermarket never really happened. Dinner happened at a street restaurant at the end of an alley in Little India - rice with a side of chicken stew, side of chickpea stew, Coke. Very cheap. I tipped the guy and felt like I made him worry he was ripping me off. So I can't do that again. Every now and again, I catch someone looking at me who is either fascinated or wants to see my head on a stick. If anyone asks, I'll tell them that I'm a Canadian and that yes, I love their God and pray to it 5 times a day...
No, no. It's not really like that. Everyone on this side of the world has given me nothing but warmth so far. That's the truth. Tomorrow, I'll see what this place is like during the day, continue to enjoy my hot shower, sandless bed for a couple nights.
There's a building sitting behind me called the Petronas Towers - tallest in the world. The cabbie who took me from the bus station made me make him a promise that I would go to the top - free tickets. I told him I was incredibly afraid of heights and he made me promise again, which I did. I said, alright dude...but it's gonna fuck with me something terrible and I might make a scene in front of a lot of people. Then he said deal, and smiled, and I guess that settled things.
Tonight, I went out wandering, looking for something like a super market then a place for dinner. First point of order was to prepare a double fist of Gatorade for tomorrow morning's run - my word, the heat here is supposed to beat Thailand - and fought hard for a while trying to place myself. Big town. Fast town. Crazy town. It's a lot less Asian and a lot more Indian than I expected. People are praying everywhere, all the time. The supermarket never really happened. Dinner happened at a street restaurant at the end of an alley in Little India - rice with a side of chicken stew, side of chickpea stew, Coke. Very cheap. I tipped the guy and felt like I made him worry he was ripping me off. So I can't do that again. Every now and again, I catch someone looking at me who is either fascinated or wants to see my head on a stick. If anyone asks, I'll tell them that I'm a Canadian and that yes, I love their God and pray to it 5 times a day...
No, no. It's not really like that. Everyone on this side of the world has given me nothing but warmth so far. That's the truth. Tomorrow, I'll see what this place is like during the day, continue to enjoy my hot shower, sandless bed for a couple nights.
There's a building sitting behind me called the Petronas Towers - tallest in the world. The cabbie who took me from the bus station made me make him a promise that I would go to the top - free tickets. I told him I was incredibly afraid of heights and he made me promise again, which I did. I said, alright dude...but it's gonna fuck with me something terrible and I might make a scene in front of a lot of people. Then he said deal, and smiled, and I guess that settled things.
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