Yesterday afternoon was when my flight to Bali was scheduled to leave. Instead of being on it, I was lying in bed, pondering about whether I should just hang on or go see a doctor at some point in the near future. By that time I had been down with rather bad diarrhoea for a day and a half, barely able to walk and only crouching out of bed to visit the loo.

I think I’m having a culture shock. Two days ago: Now: They seem to have every single overpriced brand in the world assembled here.

KL’s international airport is big. Walking from the gate to immigration takes something like 15 minutes. In the arrival hall, Christmas tunes are playing. F*** me sideways, isn’t this supposed to be a Muslim country?

This morning I decided to pamper myself and support the local economy by taking a taxi to Phaya Thai station. Yet when I stepped onto Silom, the whole road was jammed. Alas, once again I’m back to carrying my backs through the streets and crowded skytrains. The Bangkok Post recently reported about delays at the airport immigration, even causing passengers to miss flights. Thus I arrive a bit earlier than usual at check-in and am delighted to see that they have almost no queues.

After a hearty breakfast with toast and jam I checked out of the hostel and made my way to the PWTC station. It’s about 15 minutes on the LRT from Chinatown. From the station it’s another ten minutes walk to the Putra bus terminal where I got myself a ticket to Cherating via Kuantan (RM 24.60 with Utama Ekspres). The ticket shows Kemantan as destination but you can tell the driver to drop you off at Cherating.

Getting around in KL is pleasantly easy with trains connecting the major destinations and all signs printed in Latin alphabet. And unlike in Vietnam it is actually possible to pronounce the words here. Today I was somewhat busy with work but I had enough time for a visit to a nearby shopping district. It’s not a very touristy destination, more a place where locals go and get their stuff. A lot of people in the area are Muslim and countless shops cater for their special needs.

I spent my last evening in Melaka with local couchsurfer Ping, who introduced me to some more of the local cuisine. They have a restaurant here were people sit around a table with a pot of boiling chilli sauce in the middle. All the food comes on sticks and is boiled in the pot before being eaten. Very nice stuff. Ping, being Chinese, could also shed some light on the situation of the Chinese in Malaysia.