Weekending in Mudtown

"Weekends don't count unless you spend them doing something completely pointless."

Bill Watterson

I'd like to write a post about my first impressions of the Malacca campus of my college (where the rest of my course is slated to take place in) but I couldn't scrape together enough time to edit the pictures, or to even frame my thoughts for that matter, for it. Well, there's a first impression for you; all the hardships I have endured in India for the past one and a half years are piffles compared to what I got on my hands here. I say this for the benefit of my readers who happen to be my juniors - who aren't here yet and still opine that India is the absolute last word in grueling, life-sucking scholastic slavery. You guys will be begging to go back to India, I'm telling you.

Okay, I don't have much time here so I'll just briefly write about my little recent trip to KL. If I can somehow, miraculously, find a bit of spare time somewhere down this week, I'll do a piece on my Malacca campus. Whenever I'm pressed for time, blogging and writing are the firsts of my hobbies to suffer. Watching movies comes in at a close second. Reading... well, I'd sooner compromise my studies than quit reading novels. Man got to have a bit of life.

And I still have tonnes of travelogues to write (which I'll start on as soon as I can squeeze a spare minute in this week to reply the comments in the last post - which I will, by the way, I promise).

I took a bus down to KL last Thursday and for the first time in years, I did not drive there. I made a personal commitment to the green movement - y'know, tree-hugging shit like reducing my dependence on fossil fuels, rejecting the use of plastic bags whenever I can (I am pleased to say I only accepted one this entire month for a stack of books I bought from Borders which I couldn't fit into my messenger bag) and turning off whichever power switches I happen to come across which were switched on for no purpose. I'm quite sick of people being apathetic about this - knowing perfectly well what is the right thing to do but refusing to do it because he or she thinks that one single person making an effort will not make a difference. These are the same people who would drive past a dying man on the highway thinking that someone else will help, that it's someone else's problem. Global Oil Depletion is coming people, and in our lifetime too, so look sharp and shape up.

I arrived in the Garden at Midvalley at about 11:00 am, did a round of book-shopping and then met up with one Penny (or one Yen, whichever one's doing better at the currency exchange market at the moment) for lunch,

Yes, I'm reeeaaally dark. I've heard that over a million times now so if you've got nothing else to say, kindly shut up.

Penny wrote me a year ago but I can't seem to recall why now - but anyway we had some sort of an e-mail correspondence established since then, albeit one which is irregular at best. My bad, this; I am simply too fickle to keep up with any form of regular communication. I am that guy who, on occasion, don't even bother to read the SMS'es I receive on my phone, so you can see just what Penny got herself into, the poor thing.

The meet was arranged for a convenient collision with my book-shopping day because to be honest, I don't like going up to KL all that much - nasty, overpopulated, crime-stricken piece of real estate filled with the rudest drivers in Malaysia that it is.

Funny thing is, I wasn't only meeting Penny slash Yen for lunch. I was also meeting her mother.

Let it never be said again that I am an antisocial misanthrope with a hermit complex.

Now, a bit of blurb for Penny; She isn't a blogger, as many of you might have surmised and I'm pretty sure she don't read this page all that much either. She's 17 years old this year - my sister's age - and had just cleared her SPM trials with a report card full of glowing A1's. From what I can gather from our occasional chats, she's really good with the piano. Like really, really good. She teaches, and participated in some huge ass competitions and concerts (and probably won them too), and hold some degree or certificate which says she can kick your nuts musically with both hands tied behind her back (Master's degree? Doctorate? Order of Merlin First Class?). Okay, I admit it - a lot of things about the classical music world just sail right over my head and make loud splashing noises in the vast ocean of my ignorance behind me. Having written all that down, I'm still not sure how we got about being friends and actually meeting for lunch that day. This is pretty weird and I will personally investigate further on this.

I did, however, ended talking to Penny's mom a lot more than I did to her. If you're reading this, Penny, thank your mom again for me for footing the bill for lunch. I never did get a good look at the prices in the menu at the Crystal Jade but I have this impression that they appeared more like readouts from a rocket's speedometer than anything else. Ouch, but classy.

Keep me posted, Penny. Good luck for the SPM and take good care in Aussie - I know you're leaving soon. You'd make a great music therapist, I'm sure. If I'm ever in Melbourne, I would most definitely take up on your offer to show me around.

Anyway, right after lunch, I caught an LRT to the KLCC,

The twin giant jagung, as a friend of mine described them.

So I watched a movie there, and bought a few more books, but I don't think anyone want to hear about that. Besides the usual boring crap I do, I also met up with my classmates, Nickson and Sanjeev.

Sanjeev isn't from around here, by the way,

As evidenced by this damning photograph of tourist cam-foolery.

Sanjeev's is a Seychellois, which is foreignish for "some bloke from Seychelles". Seychelles is a an archipelago country of like over a hundred little islands northeast of Madagascar (which you might or might not have introduced to you in a computer-animated movie starring a sorry excuse for a lion voiced by Ben Stiller). He speaks French, English and Seychellois Creole, which is a nativized French-based pidgin, and has several important Malay words in his vocabulary like "nasi lemak" and "jualan murah". He is also very possibly a genius.

Nickson was playing host to Sanjeev during the Raya hols, alternatively taking him back to his grandmother's house in Bentong and showing him around KL.

There's another picture of this where Sanjeev and I were captured in very embarrassing poses, which is why I'm not showing it to any of you.

Instead of going to my aunt's place as planned, I changed my mind and went to stay in Nickson's place in Cheras that night.

And we decided to spend the next day visiting almost every mall in and near the Bukit Bintang area including Low Yat Plaza, Sungei Wang, The Pavillion, Lot 10, Starhill and Times Square, all of which (excepting Lot 10) I have never been in before,

That's one heckuva doorway.

Inside The Pavillion.

We had a taste of JCO's doughnuts in The Pavillion and I have to say its grossly overrated. Considering that JCO's stuff is priced higher, you'd think they would taste better - but no. Nickson agreed with me on that point and we deliberated over 7 doughnuts, including the plain glazed one which came with my drink, to arrive at that conclusion.

Mediocrity.

It could be just me but I felt that Big Apple outlets (the one in Malacca included) are generally better lit and cheerier (not to mention cleaner too). JCO tried too hard to create that faux-classy Starbucks ambience and ended up with something akin to a glorified sleep clinic on their hands. Honestly, I can't see why people are so crazy about it.

After our little day trip, Sanjeev is officially sick of malls and we had Nickson drove both of us back to Malacca the morning after. Good ol' Nickson. You got to love a guy who stayed awake at the wheel while all his passengers are snoring in the backseat.



Sick of malls too,
k0k s3n w4i