We are off to KL next week. I have to say I am a little excited! The last time I've been there was some five years ago. We would be meeting some friends on their summer break from London this time round; so it should be good.
I've always love KL. Don't ask me why. Attractions-wise, there is not much to gawk at but I always have fond memories of it. Maybe it is the infectious buzz of the place.
I remember by first time in KL. I was with a big group of uni mates, coming down from Genting Highlands. Whilst they decided to go straight back to Singapore, I was bent on spending a couple of nights alone in KL. My first time ever. My poor pals tried convincing me otherwise but it was just something I had to do.
There I was... A KL virgin, with an orange backpack, in a dodgy hostel, in a rickety shophouse opposite Pudu Raya bus terminal. I was either very brave or very foolish because I opted for a mixed dorm. Ah the bliss of ignorance and youth. The thought that it could be dangerous never cross my mind one single jot.
It was a dim 3 bunk bed room and I secured one of the top bunks, right underneath the airconditioning unit. A wooden locker stood to one side, with a large padlock supposedly to keep your valuables safe but one good kick could have disintergrated the lot. Bed looks clean but the most interesting thing about the room were my room-mates for the next couple of nights.
There was Kwan* (not real name), a HongKong girl who spent her childhood in Brisbane and was backpacking around Asia. And there was Tong, an ex-Buddhist monk. He was in his mid 40s and must have been one of the long time renters. Chatty and with a heart of gold, he took it upon himself to look out for Kwan and I for the short stay.
He gossiped about the other long-term occupants of the hostel. Apparently there was a lot of drug users. "Be careful! Don't eat anything they give you!" was his perilous warning. He gestured to a lower bunk, covered all the way round with a curtain and stage-whispered that the occupant is a transvestite. One that comes back in the early hours of the morning. I didn't have the pleasure of meeting him/her but did see the curtains twitched briefly.
Wandering around KL on my own was exhilarating. No need to make conversation. Just walk in and out. Stop for coffee and people-watch. Stop for a bowl of noodles if you fancy.
One of the things I remember fondly is sitting in the 2nd floor (1st flr to you in UK) of a McDonalds, nursing a coffee and looking out at the horrendous traffic jam outside with pink Bas Mini, looking like iced cakes clogging the arteries.
The other is walking along Petaling Street, looking at cheap shirts and fake watches. The sun was burning hot. And what better way to cool down than to visit this stall.
The famous Air mata kucing stall. For the princely sum of RM1 then, you'll get a cold, cold bowl of refreshing air mata kucing, served in an even colder metal bowl with metal spoon. Locals and tourists alike will stand around, slurping this heavenly concoction before handing the metal bowls back.
On another visit to KL, a friend and I stayed in a hotel at Chow Kit Road. I just love wandering through the colourful market stalls, piled high with fresh produce, with the sellers raising their voices "Ah pilih pilih pilih". The food stalls were a dream! Nasi campur, take as you please, with delicious dishes one after another. I couldn't make up my mind and to be able to dress my own plate of rice, my way, with whatever I please was amazing. I am quite particular about what chicken cuts I get and how much kuah. I simply hate it when some kakak or makcik drown my poor mound of rice with overzealousness.
At night, other stalls set up. A particular one I remembered is the nasi lemak stall, selling classic small packets of nasi lemak. Wrapped up in a banana leaf and a piece of newspaper, it is shaped into the classic pyramid. Inside is warm fluffly rice with a killer sambal, ikan bilis and half an egg. One hand-sized packet is not enough. Nothing is nicer than partaking a packet or two, chatting with your friends and sipping teh tarik under the stars.
Another glorious KL memory was when we supported the Singapore team in the Malaysia Cup Tournament. Up we went in coach and stayed in a dodgy hotel in Brickfields. With a name like Hotel Mexico, we almost expect Speedy Gonzales to come blazing through the door. It was however a tired old hotel with holes in curtains. But it will do. The roti canai sold nearby was simply delicious.
We were looking for transport to Shah Alam and somehow, this pakcik made us part with RM100 to bus us to and fro, dangdut music on high thrown in complimentary. We got there in one piece and had a rip-roaring time, by virtue that Singapore won 4-0 and hoisted the Malaysian Cup. Incidentally, right after that win, a few Malaysian states kicked up a stink and suggested not to allow Singapore to participate in Malaysia cup. Ever.
We waited for the pakcik to pick us up after the match.. and we waited in vain. The pakcik didn't turn up. A volley of curses and swearing later, we got back to KL by sheer luck - by hastily flagging taxi son a very busy highway. Once back in KL, we celebrated Singapore's win and trooped off to a 24hr KFC afterwards. In between biting into Colonel Sander's 11-herbs secret recipe chicken, it dawned upon us how funny it is that one pakcik can smooth talked 7 supposedly smart young adults.
Funnily enough, the next day we were at Chow Kit and bumped straight into him. The guys collared him, with a threatening "Pakcik tipu kita ye? Pakcik pegi mana semalam?" . He said in all earnestness, while stroking his new gold ring "Pakcik carik anak, anak tak ada. Pakcik carik sampai kat airport!" Ah? Kenapa kat airport? Kita tunggu kat Stadium!
My last visit to KL is some 5 years ago and regrettably, the group I went with was more interested in visiting mega malls. It was pretty but rather sterile and frankly, I found is rather similar to shopping in Singapore albeit less squeezy. I didn't get to eat my air mata kucing nor eat classic nasi lemak. So I am hoping I will get to do these next week.
