DAY 27 I arrive on Malay soil at 3am… everything is closed, the summer heat is sweltering even at night, I find a quiet, dimly lit spot outside at the end of the terminal with a few tables and chairs, stretch out with arms under the straps of my rucksack and get some shut […]
I arrive on Malay soil at 3am... everything is closed, the summer heat is sweltering even at night, I find a quiet, dimly lit spot outside at the end of the terminal with a few tables and chairs, stretch out with arms under the straps of my rucksack and get some shut eye as flying ants fall on me from the rafters above. I awake at around 7am to find myself surrounded by a 100 strong throng of police who gather their for coffee and smokes before they are despatched for the day. After 3 local buses thanks to great directions from Peter I find myself on Malaysia's version of spaghetti junction just 10 times bigger with trees, on foot trying to get on the right road out of here, I am focusing on the trucks I can see 3 layers up through little gaps between the spiraling mass of concrete... this is familiar territory, with cars and bikes whizzing past it is obvious I am not meant to be on foot. I expect to be picked up by some sort of authority... but no, I lose sight of the trucks and carry on to a petrol station. Got their around 1pm, sat their getting laughed and stared at till 7pm, "what you doing"..."get bus", "you mad" was the advice I received... this did not matter to me.
My priority today was to watch the England match.. ideally I would love a lift to Kuala Lumper 400km north... hit the city center, get a cheap Hostel, buy a beer and watch the match somewhere, and that is exactly what I did.
He could not write his name down for me and spoke very little English but was a beautiful soul...'Oh rahiib' is how it sounded but I called him Trevor. A 5hr drive and a good old laugh with Trev I am dropped off in the Hub of Kuala Lumper, booked into a dorm room in a very basic Hostel, bought myself a few skewered sticks of meat with rice and a Singha lager, sit myself down at 12:42 where a crowd of locals and transients had gathered in the Hostel lobby just as the boys were walking onto the Pitch... Perfect, bar the French man I am sitting next to who passionately insists on explaining the origins of every player of the french squad being, Algerian or Senegalese opposed to actually being French... he was a big lad but you would think that my unresponsiveness, total lack of eye contact and general state of focus on the game would give him the inclination to zip it...' I did not care what he was on about', I ask him at half time "where you from then squire"..."Algeria!" he says. I knew he was wasting my time.
Good result from England I thought...hit the hay around 3:30 am.