Tumid little bears

My head itches.

Okay, better.

Well, I just washed off three days of Malaysia, including two days of travel to and from Kuala Lumpur, one day of Little India, and a night of clubbing/bar hopping in K.L. We leave tomorrow (technically today) and I feel I’ve not the chance to fully get a hold of Malaysia, though I’ve spent every waking hour since we docked immersing myself in it.

Dan was my travel buddy to Kuala Lumpur. We left early on Tuesday morning. The bus ride was five hours long, but it was far from bad considering that all of the busses we’ve seen in Malaysia seem to be first class. Seriously, these things could easily fit about twice as many people on them if they didn’t make all of the seats lazy-boy sized and give everyone enough leg room for the person in front of them to recline nearly all the way. It was a cheap ride, too; less than US$10.

In KL, we met up with Samuel, Greg, Michael, and…Andria[? was that her name?] I knew the others from various groups I attend[ed] on the ship: People of Colour @ Sea, LGBTA @ Sea. We later met up with a pack of frat boys from the ship: Isaiah & Sean [who accept me for no reason other than my nationality], Nick [a ginger], and a couple of typical jocks whose typical jock names I cannot remember. When we all went out, it was pretty sausage-y.

So, here was my train of thought over the past fortnight or two:
Before Mauritius: [Jerry Seinfeld voice] Whaa-aat’s the dee-eal with middle-aged Indian men and my mouth?
Mauritius: Okay, no seriously—this is weird.
After Mauritius: Never again!
Before India: Oh, wait…. India probably has a lot of middle-aged Indian men, huh..
After a kiss-free India: Woohoo! The curse is broken!
Kuala Lumpur: Damn!!

This one’s name was Rajesh [tied with Nanarayan for my favourite Indian boy’s name]. He works in finance with some company that sends him all over the world for three weeks out of the month. He was actually pretty cool in spite of that; businessmen and bankers tend to really, really turn me off. Also, he was quite the looker. I met him at the second bar my pack of friends [and a third of the Semester At Sea population] had ventured into. Actually, a good friend, Lindsey, introduced me to the two of them [there is another whose name I simply never caught].

These individuals were clearly loaded, which made me uncomfortable. The amount of fun for which they were willing to pay was remarkable. I don’t believe I reached into my pocket but once after we first met. I told Raj that when his company sends him to Atlantic City again, I’ll buy him a drink in return [but just one, since drinks in AC are expensive and I don’t work for some big financial riffraff company].

On the way back, Dan and I sat in traffic for about two hours more than we had originally anticipated due to a couple of guys who, somewhere in Penang, set off a bomb. Cars were not moving. We jumped out of the taxi that picked us up from the bus terminal and walked the rest of the way. Good call, that one, considering it would have taken us two-and-a-half hours to get to the harbour had we just sat there. We gave him our money and walked for 20 minutes. A Malay man weaving between gridlocked cars on a scooter kept calling to us as we walked, asking us if we were from Semester At Sea. He told us that we were heading in the right direction and, when he finally met up with us, gave us his card and asked for a postcard. I’ll send him a couple. That was sweet. Sweeter than the time a stranger on the sidewalk approached Jesse and I when we were looking at the map of Asheville. Dan and I didn’t look lost, although we did look American.

Dan was a cool travel buddy. He’s fun to hang out with and knows when to tell the right people that he’s my boyfriend. He’s also fun to watch when we go out because many a Malaysian, Mauritian, and South African seem to believe he’s Justin Timberlake.

It was hilarious in Kuala Lumpur. People who barely make eye contact with me in the halls on the ship came up to me in the bar, drunk out of their minds, like “Maria… you’re one of the coolest girls I know.”

“Yeah, thanks doll,” was one response of mine.
“No, I’m serious. Dude…” to another guy sitting next to him, “this girl is solid as hell.”
“Man I know. Maria, you’re tight.”
And so on.

It was great because the “I’m so seriously serious, guys. I’m not drunk.” face gets me every time.

There’s a lot I want to do here with my last stretch of hours. I might spend the last day by myself. I want to go to the Snake Temple, the Spice Garden & Rainforest, a net café, and then spend the rest of my day in music stores. Julie Strand, the ship’s Ethnomusicologist and my African Drums professor, played us a medley of Malaysian music, both traditional and popular, before we got to Penang. I fell in love. Immediately, I could hear this region’s influence on a good amount of my music collection. Plus, Julie says the Malaysian heavy metal and punk scenes are strong and well worth checking out. I hope to find someone who can direct me to some Malaysian hiphop, but I’ve become such a hiphop & rap snob that those hopes aren’t too high.

On our first night, I went to a welcome reception during which we were able to view a very short traditional Malaysian puppet show. The puppet master was this 927583592-year old guy and the musicians were all students. After the show, I was able to go behind the screen and play a couple of the instruments under the instruction of a student I met. He was lovely and told me I did well with what he was showing me on the drums. He plays the bass, too, and got all excited when I told him that I did as well. We traded information on what brands we had.