Living in KL

When my mother tells our neighbours where i'm working: “KL, as in Kuala Lumpur”, the responding “ohhh” indicates that the listener probably has no idea. The “... in Malaysia” follow-up is normally greeted with just such a long 'oh'; suggesting that that the listener is still likely none the wiser. Just in case one needed reminding, KL's about halfway between Bangkok and Singapore along that cat's tail-like peninsular that hangs out the bottom of Thailand.

By now I've gotten used to KL's semi-chaotic feel: it's also metaphorically somewhere between the cowboy-town of Bangkok and the Swisswatch-like order of Singapore. This morning, for example, I wasn't especially startled when, on my way to the SLA office, my cab driver yanked the wheel clockwise and into the oncoming traffic, to avoid the queue at the traffic lights. The rattling buses and lorries barely bothered hooting – this is unexceptional behaviour over here.

“Where you from?” asks my friendly cab driver, turning around to look at me. At the moment we're driving on the normal, left-hand side of the road – he needn't focus on the road ahead quite as much.

“Seth Africa. Erm, you know, World Cup” I reply, cautiously.

His expression is one of: 'but, but, you're not blick'. Never mind that the biggest bicycle race in Asia, the Tour de Langkawi, is happening in Malaysia right now. And the South African team is leading at the moment, and all of Europe contributed to their make-up. No, like many of my driver's compatriots, I too am erstwhile British colonial detritus.
Over 30%, a large chuck, of my man's countrymen are made up of ethic Indians and Chinese. (They lend weight to that dreadful “Malaysia, truly Asia” tourist-ad jingle that jars on CNN.) And all these cultures seem to compete to be heard over each other. In January, we had the Tamil festival of Thaipusam; which is partially banned in India itself due to some of the devotee's practises such as sticking horrendous numbers of pins and hooks through their own cheeks & flesh. February was all dragon dancing, red lanterns and Chinese New Year, and KL came to a stop as all many of the Chinese went back to their family kampung.

My driver is Malay, I can tell. Not only from his looks, but from his dress and the Arabic calligraphy dangling from the rear-view mirror. Malay, by definition, is both an ethnicity and a religion. And together with what are considered the true natives, the Orang Asli, they form a racial group called the Bumiputera who occupy a “special position” in the Malaysian constitution.

Racial politics aside, this mix of people makes for extraordinarily good grub – as each culture seems to vie for making the tastiest food. In addition to the traditional Malay cooking (such as the banana-leaf wrapped Nasi Lemak), the south Indian food (like Masala Dhosa), and the differing Chinese traditions (Bak kut teh, Hokkien Mee, Char key teow), we've got all the other Asian style right on our doorstep: Thai, Vietnamese, Japanese, and so on. As expats living in KL, we are completely spoilt for food.

I suspect we've acquired a self-concious swagger as we walk into a road-side Mamak eatery, flop down and order two Roti Chenai, and Teh Tarik to drink, please; and see Western tourists, inevitably in shorts and Tevas, pouring desperately over an unfathomable menu. During our many long weekends (almost all the different religions have official holidays), we head up to places like Langkawi and Phuket, drop that Tuan Jim thing, and hang-out with those people, acting like tourists abroad again ourselves.

Duesseldorf Sojourn

We're living like refugees. Becky, Alfie and I are holed up in a small room in the HolidayInn in Düsseldorf. Those of you who've stayed there, and who are not 'platinum' members, will be able to imagine the box they've put us in.

Of course work's hectic. Because I'm 'living' just around the corner from the office, I'm at the coalface about 11hours a day. Actually the time I leave for work, and the time i get back are about the same as they were in London - only I don't get the pleasure of riding a bike ride in and out. There's no doubt though that sitting here in the Berensbau I'm more productive (as opposed to Paddington); so maybe, from a job perspective it's worthwhile. That, and the fact that i'm building a smoother relationship with the odd wo^H^HItalian that i have to work with here.

I was fearing what we'd do this past weekend, but it turned out to be okay. On Saturday we met up with Mike Piperakis and his family in the Koeningsallee. We went to a lovely 'art' cafe' in a pedestrianized square which the children tore around in. There were other German kids there, but they sat spookily politely with their parents at the table. We got a 'leave-pass', meaning Alfie fell asleep, allowing us to head to the local Uerige Alt brewery for a cheeky Altbier or two. Mike's 2year old then fell asleep too, allowing us to enjoy a good meal at a Lebanese restaurant.

Sunday I decided that we couldn't spend in Düsseldorf - you can only walk around the Aldstad so many times. So we caught the InterCityExpress train to Cologne. This was mildly stressful, as the tickets cost a bomb, and we weren't sure which station we'd end up in. As it happened we saw the cathedral on the way in, so could get our bearings. On the walk from the station over the Rhine to the cathedral side of town, Lord Tennyson promptly fell asleep, so he missed the view. Nonetheless, Becky & I wandered around the lovely old-town near the cathedral; whereupon we discovered an old Koelsch brewery that we'd been to before, years ago for the Christmas market. Seeing as Alfie was asleep, we took the chance to enjoy the local brew. For those that don't know, the rivalry between Cologne and Düsseldorf extends to their very different traditional beers. Alt from Düsseldorf is a dark beer a bit like some British 'real' ales. Koelsch on the other hand is a crisp light beer, more like a lager. (FWIW Becky prefers Koelsch, but i like both :-).

So now i'm back at work, trying to madly fix bugs for a release tomorrow. Bex & I a living in dread at the though of the flight on Friday from here to Heath Row, and from Heath Row to KL. I'm living in dread at the though of all the work I'll have to do in KL. And we're all desperately looking forward to being settled.

oh man!, the stress. today's my last day in the vodafone offices at paddington. the last few weeks have been crazy hard. SLA, the mob that pay me, only confirmed our move to Kuala Lumpur a couple of weeks ago, 23rd sept to be exact.

my parents came over to visit, as planned months ago. but instead of staying in a nice timeshare, they got to squat at ours and help us move everything from under us all into storage. so, there we were, for the last two weeks, living cheek by jowl, and packing everything into cardboard boxes. the farewell was painful in the extreme, as we don't know when we'll see them again, or when/where they'll get to visit their little grandson again.

to sell this move to VF, who really pay me, i agreed to move to Duesseldorf for a week & a half, to sit with the guys how're deploying the stuff i wrote, fixed, re-fixed etc.etc. so tomorrow evening, becky, alfie and i are leaving in a jet-plane. firstly to live in a holiday-inn in germany for a week and a half. then back to Heathrow, to pick up my mountain bike (hopefully from storage) and change terminals to fly to KL.