Vientiane, People’s Democratic Republic of Lao, Saturday 8th October 14:36
Greetings, Constant Reader. Due to a series of unfortunate events worthy of a Lemony Snickett novel, I am temporarily trapped here in Lao without a passport. There is no British embassy here (yet another thing to blame the French for) and everything’s closed till Monday. Don’t worry about me though; I’m bound to muddle through somehow.
So, when we last left out intrepid heroes, Slick and Rebel, they were leaving the shores of their temporarily adopted homeland in Australia far the mysteries of the Far East, specifically, Kuala Lumpur.
Kuala Lumpur- or KL for those in the know- is a very interesting blend of different cultures which quite neatly typifies this part of the world. The dominant force is Islam; calls to prayer echo across the city 5 times a day, alcohol is unnaturally expensive and a lot of the women wear veils. However, there is also a very large Hindu/Indian community (who we accidentally mortally offended by walking into a sort of outdoor temple with our shoes still on. Not entirely our fault guys- if there’s no walls or door, it’s a part of the street and I will keep my shoes on!) and an equally large Chinese community. Walking through the night market, eating a sweet barbecue pork bun and haggling over some knock off levi’s, one could be forgiven for believing oneself in Shanghai. Not that I’ve been to China… yet.
On top of this, there is a very obvious Western influence here. Nowhere is this more obvious than in the KL central mall, a giant monument to consumerism which takes up a large part of the city centre- with, it has to be said, some very attractive gardens. It ‘s air-conditioned halls are an excellent place to escape from the oppressive Malaysian humidity. This was the site of by far one of the strangest experiences of my life to date. Rebel and I were sitting on some steps, drinking some Big Gulps (thank the Gods for 7-11), when we noticed that everyone was watching us, and then some of them started taking pictures. Shortly, a guy came up and asked if he could have his picture taken with us, which we accepted, with much bemusement. After that, the floodgates opened and a veritable host of Malaysian people appeared, queuing in an orderly fashion to have their picture taken with us. Somewhere, possibly on the internet, are well over 100 photos of myself, Rebel, and randomly assorted Malaysians. After a little while we got too weirded out and went to get some lunch. After lunch we decided to take a quick stroll through the gardens and- perhaps predictably- the exact same situation repeated itself. To this day I have no idea what was going on- we asked around at the hostel and it didn’t happen to anyone else- although it was Malaysian independence day (independence from Britain) so perhaps it was something to do with that? Or maybe we just looked exactly like some Malaysian celebrities. A boy band perhaps.
We spent too long in KL- in our time they we; went to the park, went up KL tower, watched a film, went to a “Book Festival”, walked endlessly around the mall- and still found time enough to be bored. I hear tell that some parts of Malaysia- the Cameron Highlands or Penang- are very nice, but we didn’t get a chance to explore them; we were on a deadline. By the 5th of October we had to be in Bangkok, so we flew from LCCT airline, central hub of Air Asia- which, by the way, is the shoddiest budget Airline I have ever encountered (the departure hall was literally a massive shed, the planes all clustered around 3 or 4 gates so that we literally had to guess which one was our plane) and arrived in the capital of the Kingdom of Thailand.
Bangkok is far and away the maddest city I have ever encountered. It’s massive, loud, smelly, alternatively hideous and very beautiful, and I loved it. On Khaosan road you can buy anything you could ever possible want- and a whole range of things you don’t, from a comedy t-shirt, to a tailored suit,to a woman, to a man that looks like a women, to a fucking degree certificate from Oxford university or a diving qualification- all for the change in your back pocket. The city never sleeps; it is always awake and always insane. My one complaint is that you can’t walk anywhere, there are no real provisions for pedestrians, placing you at the mercy of the taxi drivers (which are very cheap) and, if you are brave, the Tuk-tuks, who are, predictably, insane. Having collected Schlafmouse , our new traveling companion, from the airport, we hit the town for a few drinks- which, as result of a series of events which I am bound by my honour as a gentlemen not to reveal (giggity) involved me taking a crazy journey back across the city via water and motor bike taxi to the hostel, where my companions were contemplating the possibility that Bangkok had me now.
In a way, it still has.
In the hostel we made plans for the rest of our trip: we would go to the Island of Koh Chang while we waited for our visas to Vietnam to be processed, and then fly to Saigon. All of that, and more, in the next installment of Slick’s blog….
Peace,
Slick
0 Responses to “Bangkok has him now…”