October 30th – November 3rd 2008
I'm not the biggest fan of cities but Kuala Lumpur, or KL as most travellers and Malaysians seem to refer to it, surprised me. Its population is about 1.5 million which makes it quite small for a capital city and you can just about walk around the main sights if you have the energy to do so under the sun's rays. Initial glimpses from the bus windows revealed the anticipated fancy-looking skyscrapers but also tidy grass areas, beautiful mosques and streetlights decorated with red plastic hibiscuses (Malaysia's national flower) which brought a smile to my face. Getting off the bus, there were no tourist touts waiting to lead us to guest houses and this feeling of being on our own quickly alerted my senses to the buzz of the city.
We decided that “The Red Dragon” in KL's Chinatown was to be our place of abode. It was a strange hostel and I feel the need to describe it. There were private rooms on the first floor and the dorm, where we were to sleep, was one huge room with a very high ceiling, taking up the whole of the second floor. In the dorm, some thirty or so beds were divided into sections by partition walls rather like those you would find in an open-plan office or a make-shift emergency hospital. As other travellers came and went in the beds opposite ours, it consequently felt like spaces were being made available due to people passing away! There were window frames all along the edge of one wall but all the glass had been broken so curtains, which couldn't be drawn back, just hung there, making the room dark whatever time of day. The bathrooms had posters advertising films and sound companies above the entrances and were down long corridors, men to the right and women to the left. Perhaps the building had been a cinema back in the day it had windows to its name. Our open-plan office/make-shift hospital/cinema dorm was, however, fine for us as there was lots of space and each bed had a desk with a padlocked draw, a fan and a light - things which we have come to be very grateful for.
We did what any tourist would probably do when in KL: strolled down Petaling Road and felt harassed by the market vendors, popped into the Central Market, wandered across Merdeka Square (“Independence Square”, which made me think about how it must feel to be colonised), listened to prayers sounding from the Jamek Mosque (KL's oldest mosque), walked around the Lake Gardens, soaked up the views of the city from the bridge connecting the Petronas Twin Towers (the world's fourth tallest building), ate at hawker stalls, visited an art gallery (the one we chose exhibited blog drawings from Mazen Kerby who stayed in Beirut when Israel bombed the city in 2006) and cooled off inside the numerous elegant and fridge-like shopping malls. There were, however, two events which probably distinguished our visit from any standard long-weekend break in KL: we spent Halloween in a gay club and sat on the floor of the National Mosque for an hour talking to a Muslim man about Islam...
As we hadn't been clubbing in any of the cities we have visited so far, we decided KL would be the right place to make amends before our funds get too low for even considering using our bread money to pay our way into nightclubs. Still budget conscious, however, we bought some gin and tonic at the convenience store opposite our hostel, poured it into plastic bottles and set off into the night. We headed to the Bukit area of town and came across the “Blue Boy” club. As we entered, Robbie was setting foot on home territory but I was pretty much a gay club virgin, so to speak, and, as virtually the only girl in the club, a little out of place. My uneasiness quickly disappeared, however, as I sipped at my G&T (“free” with the 20 Ringgit entrance ticket) and watched the dance floor. There were some men who could move really well and all were bopping away whilst staring at themselves in the mirror. In fact, the men seemed to dance in rows (I guess that way they could see themselves in the mirror better) as if they were strutting their stuff in a dance studio. Honestly, I have never been in a room with so many image-conscious people! There were two shows which interjected the dancing. The first was a fashion show although most models didn't have any upper garments on. The second was like a Halloween drag act with a bit of Indian belly dancing in the middle. The drinks were expensive so after Robbie had spent the equivalent of three night's accommodation on just 2 beers, we got our hands stamped and went to buy drinks from the “7 Eleven” across the road. The night ended with a burger at McDonalds followed by a McSundae at around 3am (sinful!). I walked home feeling that I had been in another world for the past few hours and I would need a while to come around to the one I was familiar with again.
As it just so happened, a couple of days later we found ourselves sat on the floor of the National Mosque listening to a Muslim man tell us how evil “nightlife”, homosexuality and eating excessively are (I know it's terrible but I caught Robbie's eyes and had to make a real effort not to burst out laughing). Once this pleasant introduction was out of the way, Robbie and I sat quite mesmerized as our new Muslim friend went on to explain why Muslims believe that prayer, cleansing (“wudu”), fasting, pilgrimage and charity are so important. He felt that the press portrayed Muslims incorrectly and kept repeating to us how tolerant and all-embracing Islam is. He even joked about America invading Iraq, telling us that President Bush had said he had had 710 reasons for invading. He wrote this number on a piece of paper and then turned it upside down to reveal the one true reason: OIL. The good thing about talking to him was that we were able to ask any questions we wanted. As I was sat in a purple gown which covered my whole body and head, I asked him, in a respectful way of course, why women don't have the freedom to wear what they want when it seems that the problem lies with men's inability to control their sexual desires, why prayers have to be said five times a day and what he thought of Western women (he had told us that earlier that day he had seen a woman without a bra on under her clothes, Allah forbid). Despite his answers to my questions being directed at Robbie, they were comprehensive enough and helped me understand Islam better even if some of his explanations didn't convince me to place my order at the local gown shop. We overstayed the hour's visiting time for tourists and were eventually ushered out as the sound of the five o'clock wailing began. As I hung my robe back on its peg, I thought about how intelligent and informed the man had appeared - he could speak Arabic, English, Malaysian, had complete faith in his religion and an obvious understanding of other world religions. A lot of Western people seem to struggle with their own identity and religion and find it easy to mock others. Yet how many have really studied whatever faith they adhere to not to mention can speak Arabic and have any understanding of other religions? I walked away from the mosque feeling both enlightened and full of sin. How interesting it had all been but thank goodness he didn't know what we had been up to two nights earlier.
Back in our dorm, a Korean man I had been talking to that morning was painting a portrait sat on the floor, in the dark, with his pots all around him. I went over to say hello and told him I admired his work. As we chatted, he suddenly said he would like to paint me to which I replied that I'm not beautiful enough to have a portrait painted. “I do not paint beautiful people but look for people I can feel spiritually connected to,” he answered. I wasn't sure whether to take that as an insult or compliment but smiled and explained we were leaving in the morning for Melaka so there would be no time for it anyway. Lady Boys, a Muslim preacher and a Korean artist ... I wonder who we'll meet tomorrow.
