It had been extremely hot that week in the mid to high 30s, almost too hot to camp, but surely too hot to sleep in. Throughout this heat wave and in absence of wind, a new daily kilometre record was set at 170 and I had myself camping at a demolished wig factory.
I soon found myself trying to negotiate the maze of freeway connections that would take me into the heart of Kuala Lumpur. This stretch of my trip would take me just as long to endure 60 km as it had to cover the previous days work.
My clothes had not been properly washed in the sink for at least three days now, and I sat in the lobby of our new hotel praying that Chris and Barb wouldn’t show up to see me like this and smell me like that.
At last, the concierge waved me over and said that my reservation had been confirmed, I went up to my room to rejuvenate and let my people know that I had arrived.
We quickly went out for supper on food street, which is a city unto itself. With all the action of person can want but also all the pushy car salesmen of the food industry trying to lead you into their restaurant upon a moment of eye contact, or just because you’re close enough to have a menu in your face.
I don’t think I’ve seen this much rejection since Sam Malone was trying to hound dog Rebecca.
We sat down at a Thai restaurant and ordered what turned out to be the largest Pad Thai I have ever seen, and for terms of scale it would nearly fill up a bathroom sink. That, plus four other entrées made me feel as full as an all you can eat wing night at garbanzo’s on Pembina.
The nightlife in this city started to open up as soon as we met with Chris’s friend James, a guy he had taught with in Shanghai from his eastern China days.
Barb had to go back to China to work and left Chris and I unsupervised.
We went out for some proper Fish and chips at a pub, and started digging into buckets of beer they had on sale that night. Taking the party to an off sales bar we went for stand-up drinks at an outdoor patio.
We would follow up the night with a mind blowing science video featuring cellular mitosis and the genetic make up of DNA with a blue disco light as the backdrop setting. Black Sunday by Cypress Hill for dessert .
As anyone can tell you that parties with a scientist, I’m sure all your nights turn out the same way.
So our week went like that, with a day off in between benders to go see the sites of the city; the open market the Petronas Towers and Rat Street, as well as spending hour upon hour in our pool.
But it was not all to be fun and games.
Finding out during the week that my sandals were becoming increasingly slick in the rain, and having worn down any grip on the bottoms of them through time, I thought it was a good idea to go shopping for new ones.
10 minutes after I found a slight wet spot and slid down to take a knee in voluntarily, I was about to board the escalator and had another slip and fall resulting in me going face first into the stairs and getting a pretty severe escalator bite.
After cleaning myself up in the malls bathroom I made my way back home for some first aid treatment with electrical tape and paper towel.
I had two more strikeouts during my time in that city and the second one came the next day as a tiny piece of one of my molars became loose and I felt I needed to fix the situation by making myself an appointment across the street for the next day.
I had educated myself on the Internet regarding the quality of dental practises in Malaysia and Thailand and thought nothing of it. But this guy must’ve slipped through the cracks. It felt like he was challenging himself to perform the whole procedure with nothing but a butter knife and left me in recovery for 10 days.
my third and final strike out came the day that I left with my last pain killing pill taken in the morning I thought I would be OK enough to at least slowly make my way out of the city. But my thought process and reasoning skills were still very affected.
As I walked my bike through the grass along the freeway, things seemed great but I was soon on a dead-end road and trapped between the barriers of the freeway and the Stonewall. Rather than walk two kilometres backtracking, I decided to take my chances on a hiking trail that lead into some trees.
After reaching a point of no return, having conquered a 60° incline that nearly sprained my ankle, I found myself at the mouth of a drainage ditch lined by stone slab bricks that formed the shape of a V, with a stream at the bottom.
My Oregon Trail tricks nearly got me into quite a bit of trouble, as I attempted to skid my bike down the smooth rock face. I lost control and had my bike suspended on some tree branches and I was held in place with one hand on some bushes and the other on my seat post. Good thing I was taking it slow I guess?
I managed to find a set of stairs that the engineers have built into this thing and heave my bike up one at a time. After I pulled the branches out of my clothes and dusted myself off and inspected my bike I was back on my way south and nearly out of the city limits.
Cheers to Chris and James for helping me celebrate my birthday in style with even a cake, Rat Street, and watching a few videos of protesters getting what’s coming to them.