I had a very hard time writing this particular blog. I think it is because I really, really enjoyed Kuala Lumpur and the freedom I felt there is not replicated in India. I feel oppressed in India. I am alone here (my husband is practically nonexistent due to his busy work schedule) and each day is hard when you are alone. I truly don’t think I would be so unhappy if we were actually experiencing the country together. But we are not. I am experiencing it and he is working it. So each time I started to write this blog, I would rant and rave and leave behind very negative words about India. But I do want you to know that there are some good things about India, too. (That list mostly consists of all of my relatives and mangos.)
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Near the end of May my husband and I traveled to Kuala Lumpur (KL), Malaysia. He had a three-day conference, and I, of course, as a housewife, had a desire to travel and see someplace new. His conference was Wednesday through Friday and we planned to stay the weekend and see the city together once it was over.
My husband flew in before me, and I flew in on a redeye landing early Thursday morning.
I was super excited to spend some time in the much bigger international airport (since I usually fly out of Mumbai’s small domestic airport) but I was shocked to find that I couldn’t spend my rupees because I had an American passport. I haven’t been in the US for nearly six months; I don’t carry around US dollars…. But I wasn’t allowed to buy from the duty free shops because my passport was American. What a rip off. That really shows how pathetic and/or easily counterfeited the Indian rupee is, though. They’d accept US dollars or Euros or English Pounds from anyone of any nationality, but only Indian rupees from Indian citizens. No bag of snickers for me…. I suppose, really, the duty free shop was just trying to keep me healthy and fit.
When I first arrived in KL I was a bit grouchy. I had nicely switched from a front seat to a back seat in the airplane so a couple could sit together. When I saw them leave customs a full hour before me, I was regretting that decision. Because I flew in from Mumbai, the line in customs was mostly full of pushy Indians (sorry, nice Indians that I know out there, but it is true. In any line, people are super duper pushy and drive me crazy). The line was long and the aisle wide. I couldn’t maintain control over my personal space in line. I was just one person and couldn’t block the entire aisle. Left and right people were cutting in front of me. I lost count after fifty. A single girl alone just can’t fill up the aisle, and as soon as I’d do my best to block people cutting on the left, they’d squeeze up and cut on the right. Sigh. It is so lonesome and tiresome to fly alone. So of course I was in my typical bad mood brought on by interacting with strangers of Indian origin (I’d like to point out that I don’t get that bad mood when I interact with non-strangers of Indian origin), helped along by only one hour of sleep on the plane, when I finally left the airport well over two hours after landing.
So quickly, so quickly, I forgot about the pushing and shoving; I forgot about the woman who smacked her baby against me four times in line, and her shopping bag full of his toys seven times, because I was driving through roads with humans who understand the concepts of traffic laws and the beauty of greenery on the roadside. I was a bit afraid, however, because the car driver was going 120 kph (75 mph), which was far faster than I’d ever gone in Mumbai. But there were no cars driving on, rather than between, the traffic lines. It was a proper highway, with dividers that couldn’t be crossed. So I sat back, tried repeatedly to kill the lone mosquito in the car, and enjoyed the scenery.
The flora was bright green. I think they were mostly coconut trees. As we distanced ourselves from the airport, small housing communities began to pop into view. It actually brought me back to a sustainability class I took years ago at UM. I remember learning that it was more sustainable and energy efficient to make small clumps of houses, rather than spread out farms in the countryside. Seems sort of obvious now, but the first time you hear an idea it is always interesting.
The housing was fascinating. I’d just never expected such uniformity. I wondered what kind of government ruled Malaysia. All of the homes were basically the same; it is like driving past army barracks (but much, much nicer looking!) at home in Michigan. Each community had a light tan (or maybe it was pale yellow) exterior walls and red roofs. Some might be town houses, others condos or apartment buildings, some high rises, but they all looked exactly the same.
As we got closer to the city, a bit more diversity appeared; I saw one clump with gray roofs, another with some green paint. Up close, they were a bit more different, but it was still interesting to see such uniformity; I had never seen it before.
Another thing that made me giggle was my Driver’s (in Mumbai) prediction. He has been to Malaysia twice, and he told me to watch the men riding motorcycles; they would wear their jackets backwards. True to his word, the first guy to drive past me on a bike was indeed wearing his jacket backwards! I wish I had been able to get a picture for him, but we were going too fast. I am convinced that my Driver was more excited about my KL trip than I was; it is his dream to get out of India and make something of his life. He did try it once in KL, but it turned out to be a scam and he lost all of his family‘s (extended family, even) money.
Also making me happy was the radio. For once, I could very clearly understand what was actually being said. The Malaysian accent was much closer to American English than Indian English, and it was actually possible to understand every word. My exterior crustiness remained, but my insides were starting to soften and just feel happy being in this beautiful country. As we’d been landing, the airplane TV played a catchy little jingle, “Malaysia, the soul of Asia, the heart of Asian, Malaysia, etc, ” that I sang to myself repeatedly. It really is a song that gets stuck in your head. I still find myself absent-mindedly singing it two weeks later.
Within a half hour or so the city skyline appeared. It was beautiful, and I picked out our hotel right smack in the middle of it. On one end of the skyline was a needle-like thing that reminded me of a car antenna from the 1980s with a bright foam ball stuck on it. On the other end of the skyline were the Petronas Towers, which were matching and big and pretty. My friend Deeps loves skyscrapers; I’m sure these pathetic attempts at descriptions are painful for him to read!
Once inside of the hotel, which was very nice, both lobby and room, thank you, thank you, thank you, I promptly fell asleep for a couple of hours. I woke around 1:00 pm local time and called housekeeping to clean up my husband’s mess. He’d only been there for one day before me, but his clothes were strewn everywhere, the entire set of sheets and blankets were on the floor, an ice cream bowl melted by the desk, and a wet bathrobe (what on earth was he doing?) was in the bathtub. It wasn’t the best of room conditions to see for a first impression.
Housekeeping was quick. The employee was female (as opposed to the male employees at the hotels in India), and she was nice, even made me giggle, and, when her cell phone rang, she very properly ignored the call and continued to make our bed. Oh, KL, how I love you and your politeness already.
My husband had a break from his meetings and snuck a bowl of ice cream up to me. Isn’t that sweet! We shared it as we discussed our day, but he quickly had to go back to the conference. I decided to shower, doze, and finally got dressed and checked out the world.
I went shopping. A massive mall (I’m fairly certain it was bigger than the Mall of America) was right across the street. I really enjoyed the mall. It was having a comic convention of some sort, but the stage was empty and I mostly just glanced at the awesome life-sized Batman and Superman statues (can I call them life-sized action figures?) and the various Green Lantern T-shirts. Eventually I started shopping (I put all of my fancy dresses in storage and I am going to a wedding in July) and found a very cute dress; I went to an amazing bakery (the red bean pastry was fabulous); and, when my husband finished with his conference, ate the best pizza I’ve had since being in Asia. We ate at the hotel because he was really sick. The restaurant stunk of fish and seafood (something that makes me nauseous) so we sat outside. I watched a cockroach shuffle from inside to our outdoor seating. Fortunately, I didn’t see it until after we had finished our pizza.
We came back to the room and I dismantled all of the shelving in the mini fridge to make space for the leftover pizza. My husband was getting sicker by the moment (a cold), so we just stayed at the hotel and he zonked out quite early. Unfortunately the cold would be a persistent thorn in our side for the entire otherwise blissful trip.
After only one day in KL, I was firmly convinced my life would have been better in KL than India. Of course, after only one day, I didn’t have to deal with cooking, grocery shopping, getting a cell phone, etc. But after only a few hours there it felt as though a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I felt like myself again. Just happy.
That isn’t to say that people and life in India isn’t nice. Everyone seems willing to help out in India. But the bureaucracy of getting anything done is incredibly frustrating. Something as simple as opening a bank account or getting a phone can take over a month. But the hardest part of living in India is simply being a blonde woman (and I’m barely blonde; mostly dishwater blonde).
In India, blonde women are zoo creatures. The only point of a zoo creature is to stare at it. Or photograph it. I get both on a daily basis. It is just emotionally wearing to have a person give you the creeps each and every time you walk outside. An American would advert their eyes and be embarrassed when caught staring. Here, they keep right on looking at you with an intensity that could kill someone. One day I’m going to smack one of them and get in trouble. It is emotionally wearing to be asked to take a photo every time I do anything slightly touristy or leave my Bollywood bubble of Bandra. It is emotionally wearing to see people walk past you, stop, turn, and then follow you for blocks so they can stare at you and your hair. All of these things happen frequently. It isn’t fun. It makes you change your entire lifestyle, no fun clothes. If I go out, I’m sure to wear long sleeved Indian attire. It just sucks to have to face it each and every single day.
But in KL, I didn’t even once experience that creepiness. No one stared at me in that rude manner, no one photographed me. I was just another human, not a zoo creature. What person wouldn’t prefer such an environment?
The next day, Friday, my husband still had a half-day for his conference, so I had the morning and afternoon to myself. Usually, in India, my daily goal is to not go outside, but instead stay safely inside to avoid being stared at. I have exceptions, of course. Everyone at the gym treats me well, and I don’t mind most parts of Bandra. But overall, I, who once spent the majority of my days in a tree, am now happiest inside away from the people. But now that I was in KL? In the beautiful freedom that was KL I was just itching to go out and do something.
I slept late (KL is 2.5 hours head of Mumbai) and, rather than congratulating myself on a few well-spent hours, I chastised myself instead for wasting opportunities. I spent the early afternoon working on those long Delhi blogs and then walked around outside again.
At one point in the elevator I met a couple from South Africa. They said the weather was unbearably hot and humid. I thought it was rather dry (Mumbai must be the most humid place on the planet) and rather pleasant. I guess I’m getting used to Indian weather, if not the strangers I interact with in India.
I next went back to that fabulous bakery (it is called The Loaf if you ever find yourself in KL) and got some snacks for my husband and myself. The orange juice was fabulous, too. They mix it with sprite, or some fizzy pop. It was quite good.
My husband was still sick, but wanted to make an effort on my part so we went to the mall and got food instead of going out. I’d spent hours that day looking up good restaurants, reading suggested restaurants from his co-workers, and had picked a rooftop bar to eat and (more important to me) actually get dressed up and wear something cute without being stared at in a creepy manner. So I was disappointed that we didn’t get the city view, but more disappointed I didn’t get to dress up. My poor husband could barely walk to the mall, though, so for him it was much better!
The mall food court was amazing. I think I could live in that mall and be perfectly content. We passed every restaurant you could imagine. There was even a Beard Papas, my sister’s favorite pasty shop in Japan! We ended up at a Mexican restaurant and I had the best tacos I’ve had in at least six months. To be fair, I haven’t tried tacos yet in India…. But they were very, very good. We ordered some fun drinks with pineapple juices in them and then went back home so my husband could continue to sleep.
What was NOT good were the next morning’s hotel waffles. Oh, they were terrible. They tasted EXACTLY like an Eggo waffle you bought at the store, made in the toaster, forgot about and, as a consequence, left out for two hours, and then for some cheap reason decided that they would still be good and you decided to eat them and warm them up in the microwave rather than just throw them out and start afresh. I had chocolate waffles, which I assumed meant there were chocolate chips in them. Nope. They were drenched in chocolate sauce. I love chocolate, but even I couldn’t eat that much chocolate sauce. My husband told me to call and say we wouldn’t pay for them, but I am a wimp and just ate two of the three. When they asked how the meal was, I was honest and told them terrible. There was much apology and they sent us a box of chocolates instead. Despite the fact that the chocolates weren’t great, just getting something for free was enough for me to be completely mollified.
I went back to the mall to buy my husband some cold medicine. I got distracted by the comic convention and spent some time watching Batman and The Joker duke it out (well, jest it out might be more appropriate, there was a lot more talking than fighting) before I dragged myself away and found a pharmacy. It was an interesting process to buy the medicine. I went to a store like CVS or Walgreens, but all of the cold medicines were behind a counter and I had to talk to the pharmacist. She asked me all the symptoms (I guessed the answers) and then gave me the drugs. I had to sign my name, hotel room, and even provide my driver’s license number. But it was nice that she talked to me about the symptoms, I supposed.
Our original plan for Saturday had been to wake up around seven and get in line to see the Petronas Towers. Now, we were mostly doing this because it is the ‘thing to do’ in Kuala Lumpur. Really, the walkway is only on the 42nd floor, so it isn’t exactly high to someone who spent all of their years in Chicago on the 35th floor. Nor is it high to someone who has been 110 stories up in the Sears (ahem…Willis) Tower. But whatever. It is the cool thing to do. You have to go early because they only give 1700 tours. I think that number is right.
Of course, my husband was incredibly sick, so when the wake up call came at 7:00 he was in no condition to get out of bed. I had actually already been up. That is how excited I was. I truly was back to my normal conditions. I used to jump out of bed every morning ready to seize the day. Now I sleep in lazily. Amazing how a change of city can just bring back the real you. Anyhow, the real me might have been ready, but the real husband was in no shape to go. I read for a bit and eventually fell asleep (7:00 am KL time is only 4:30 am Mumbai time, after all), and when I awoke I got those nasty waffles.
Of course, at the mall, after the nasty waffles, I decided I needed more food. So after Batman and the pharmacy I headed back to the food court. I (see my slick use of foreshadowing?) got Beard Papas and brought it back to our hotel room. I insisted that my husband try them. He wasn’t impressed. But I love them!
After the mall trip I was starting to get antsy. My husband’s case was so busy that he had moved his flight on Sunday to (1) an earlier time and (2) to go straight to Delhi rather than Mumbai with me. So we really had less than 24 hours left together, and he’d been (very sick, of course) sleeping through all of them.
To make matters worse, his phone had stopped working. We were using an absurd international calling plan that charged $3/minute. Now his international calling was for work, and his company was paying for it, but apparently (we learned later) he’d reached the spending limit (over $600) and his phone was turned off. So we spent a good amount of time griping over that and trying to get it to work. No avail. He used my phone for the rest of his business calls. I learned, when back in Mumbai, that I was less than $20 away from getting my phone turned off, too!
I really want to go someplace other than the mall (sure, it was grand, but it was still just a mall) in Kuala Lumpur. I started to wish that my passport would magically disappear and I’d be forced to stay here for a longer time.
Eventually, my husband (probably a dumb health decision in retrospect) decided he could handle going to one tourist attraction. We went to KL Tower, which is the car antenna-like building described earlier. We took a cab (good thing, because you go up a pretty steep hill to get there), got our tickets, and waited in line. The women working in the building had one of the prettiest headscarves I’d ever seen. They had a sort of short neon green visor thing and it was covered with a neon pink, yellow, and green scarf. I know it sounds weird, but the city is vibrant and alive and it just fit.
A HUGE group of school children arrived at roughly the same time as us, but we were fortunate to be in front of them in the line. It wasn’t a long wait and we were soon in the elevator going up, up, and up. It is about the same as going to the Hancock building, except much less fun because I can spot my own home and friend’s homes when I’m in the Hancock building and in the KL Tower I don’t know or care what all the buildings are below. But it is still fun to look at things from such a high height.
My husband grew thirsty and bought the official ‘KL Tower’ water. The wrapper said, “More than Meets the Eye.” I wonder if they had to pay Transformers to use that line. And really? It is more than meets the eye? How? It seemed pretty straightforward to me. Anyhow, it was fun, but soon those eighty or so schoolchildren were swarming around us and we knew it was time to go back down.
We next went to the ‘Malaysian Cultural Village’ that looked like an extremely hokey movie set from forty years back. It was supposed to represent all of the different homes in Malaysia, but you couldn’t walk through them or anything. It was instead a rather pathetic rendition of the front step and doors. I usually love historical stuff like that (Greenfield Village in Dearborn is one of my favorite places on the planet), so I’d been expecting better and was disappointed. Anyhow, we half-heartedly looked at them and left when the eighty kids ran in and started banging on every drum (and there were quite a few) in the adjacent building.
Our next and last stop was the ‘Animal Zone’, which is also part of the KL Tower set of attractions. This was my favorite place, except for the animals that weren’t on display, the mosquitoes, did their best to distract me from the feature attractions. I got to take a photo with some birds and a snake (my dear husband was terrified for my wellbeing with the snake). But I really just enjoyed seeing how different a small ‘zoo’ in Asia is from one in America. By that, I mean that the animals that eat our garbage in America, raccoons, are featured attractions here in Asia. I’d have just never thought to put one in a zoo. So I really enjoyed seeing the raccoon as a strange and exotic animal rather than a bandit that makes weird oinking sounds and keeps our family trapped inside the house at night. Yes, that did happen one summer. We had a brutal family of raccoons living in our tree. They’d hang out on our front step and imitated pigs. My poor dog just didn’t know what to do. She was great at barking from inside the house, but couldn’t go out and take five or six raccoons at once. It was great fun. For one day. After a week or so it was annoying.
My poor husband was utterly beat by the time we finished the Animal Zone. We went back to the hotel, he rested, and eventually we went to TGIF for dinner. Yes, we went to TGIF. When you are sick, sometimes you just want familiar foods.
The next day we spent mostly at the airport. It is massive, and as we walked around all of the fine dinning choices, I kept repeating that I wanted to go to Burger King. My husband looked at me a bit like I was a weirdo, but he is a good husband and let me eat at BK. It has been so long since I’ve had it! Well over six months. It was just time for a Burger King hamburger. It was delicious. I was so happy. By the way, their ketchup containers are slightly different. In the US, we have those little paper cups; here they give you a nearly flat piece of plastic. I thought they were trash until the BK employees explained their purpose.
I left my husband at BK to do work and I window-shopped. I went down to the atrium set smack in the middle of the airport and walked around. You quickly forget that an airport is running AC, but the temperature inside of the open-air atrium was at least 20 degrees higher and much more humid. I enjoyed reading the tree names and watched the waterfall for a while. I eventually overheated and went back to air-conditioned portion of the airport. I next looked inside all of the shops, overjoyed that I could look without being harassed by the sales clerks.
My husband was flying to Delhi business class. I was flying to Mumbai economy. His company was paying for his ticket! So, I would like to say that the airline we used, Malaysia Airlines, is pretty stiff upper lipped about their rules. My husband wanted to go into their lounge to charge his computer, and they wouldn’t even let him bring a guest (me, his wife). We went a couple times, asked different employees, and no one would let me in. It was just a bit surprising. We thought that having a first class or business class ticket meant you could do whatever you want. Isn’t that at least what Billy Idol said in The Wedding Singer?
Anyhow, my husband went in to charge his computer and I continued to wander the airport. I bought some candy (obviously) and found a cluster of TVs playing a Detroit Tigers Game! Did I mention I loved KL? I watched my team lose until it was time to fly out of there.
When I landed back in Mumbai, despite being very late at night (11 or 12, I don’t remember), there was still an incredible amount of traffic, yelling, and fighting. One man refused to move his car, and my driver and I had to wait for twenty minutes before we could even leave the airport because of it. My heart was already beating a bit faster and I was slightly more stressed.
I keep telling my husband that I am like a zoo creature. Not just the blonde part; there is also a stress component. By that I mean that it is very, very difficult to get some animals to reproduce in zoos. (NO, I am not trying to reproduce right now. Focus). For example, rhinos. Even if we provide them with huge ranges and good food and natural habitats, it just doesn’t work as well. Many animals are just stressed. Of course, some animals have no problems reproducing at all. I vaguely feel like rabbits are an example. I am the rhino and my husband is the rabbit. I am in a good habitat with a nice big clean home, good food, a car and driver, and a gym membership. But it doesn’t matter. I’m still in a foreign environment, no matter how you dress it up, and my body and mind are just constantly under a low state of stress. **
There were many other things in KL that either surprised me or made me quite happy. Here is a list of things not included in the text above:
(1) The service at the front desk. When my husband lost his key, and asked for another one, they actually checked our ID. I was so happy. I mean, I want to assume that everyone is honest when they go to a front desk of a hotel and say, “I’m in room 8, I need a new key,” but it would be so easy to lie and then go rob someone. So I very much appreciated the checking of our IDs.
(2) My health. Within one day of arrival, the whites of my eyes reverted back to the color white. In India, the air is so lousy that they had a permanent red tinge that would make anyone think I was high on drugs.
(3) No headaches! I’m not sure if it was due to the lower air pressure or the cleaner air, but for the first time in months, I didn’t have to take ibuprofen multiple times in the day. I had no headaches!
(Incidentally, within 24 hours of being back in Mumbai my eyes were red and I was popping ibuprofen again).
(4) Much better TV in the hotel. We got to watch a new episode of House! That was fantastic.
(5) Fun tea in the lobby. I love tea and it was a never-ending joy to try a new flavor each and every time I walked through the lobby.
(6) The clothing. It was so much fun to see women wearing cute things. Not that saris and salwar kameez aren’t cute; they are. But it was fun to see arms showing and legs showing and hair down and NOT BE STARED at in a creepy manner. Everyone was dressed quite nice, but still had an element of casualness. Even the Muslim women, who are supposed to be covered from head to toe, had their sleeves pushed up and were wearing Capri pants.
(7) Window shopping is SO much better than in India. It is awful in India. All I want to do is look without someone annoying me. But they HOOVER. Even when clothes shopping, they will just follow you around, three steps behind you. Often if you walk by they call you to go into their shop. I always refuse because it annoys the heck out of me. But in KL I could wander at peace without anyone to bug me. Oh, it was wonderful.
There was exactly one thing that made me unhappy in KL:
(1) Smoking. Everyone smoked like it was 1980 in America. The rest of the city was incredibly modern and clean, but the smoking was very out of place and frustrated me to no end.
I had asked my cook/maid what she planned to do while were gone for the weekend. She said she would go to a wedding if she wasn’t menstruating. Can you believe it is the 21st century and she could still be forced to participate in such a bunch of nonsense? Fortunately, the 21st century has medicines to combat such bull, and she took some drug called Regestrone that suppresses your period and went successfully to the wedding.
** Fun fact for people who believe in gay rights (which had better be all of you). While I was double-checking which animals had trouble reproducing or not, I discovered that giraffes have anal sex. That’s right. Also I learned that homosexuality was documented in EVERY SINGLE species that reproduces via sex.
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