Tedious, Me

I’ve been wondering why I have absolutely no urge to write anymore–from something as public as a blog on the internet to my own personal ideas on scraps of paper. Perhaps it’s because I feel like I am so tedious. All I seem to write about nowadays are my “to-do” lists for self improvement. Even now, as I type this, I’m feeling an urge to note down the little tasks I should do regularly in order to make them into habits. Like moisturise my feet. Or floss. Or whatever.

I think my problem is I get caught in what ought to be, and don’t concentrate enough on the character-building aspects that are involved. I tell myself “do this every day,” but I never do, and thus get nowhere in terms of big ticket goals.

Well, some things need to be done with practice and over time, and with “force” if necessary. I purposely dug my own hole in a number of ways. At work, I’ve been invited to several different countries to speak on social media. This forces me to revive my public speaking skills and take my abilities to another level. In terms of my body, I’ve made a lot of noise about dieting (so there’s a social aspect involved) and committed to signing up for a year-long gym membership. Now money and pride is at risk. In terms of future education, I’ve again made pretentious little speeches about studying in Spain and how I’m saving up every month to get this. Again, pride.

Also, depressingly, when I think these thoughts, I feel frustrated with myself. Lighten up! I scream at myself. But that’s my problem–I am not a light-hearted person, and have probably never been. Then I go off like a typical twenty-two year old and end up on YouTube, Cracked.com or 9gag, or simply wallow in a romance novel for a few hours until I feel all silly and useless again. And then, the cycle of stressing about self-improvement continues.

Blah, let’s see how these go.

Journey to Kathmandu

Let me be contrary and take a break from my Kuala Lumpur narration to tell you a little about my first day in Kathmandu, Nepal.

I woke up at 5:30 AM this morning, ordered a cab using the Taxi iPhone app, and did the usual pre-travel panic dressing and packing. Fifty minutes later, I stood outside my building, growing increasingly anxious–either the cab had left me because I had been five minutes late, or it hadn’t come at all. I fumed for a bit, struggled with my luggage, called another ride, and made it to the airport in time. My flight was at 8:15 AM, and would be stopping in Bangkok to transfer.

The Bangkok airport is impressive, built in the modern chrome-and-glass style that seems to be so popular with the more modern Asian terminals. It had high ceilings and a spacious interior, but let me just say walking from wherever it was that I landed to Gate C6–NOT FUN. I must have staggered two kilometers with my heavy carry-on luggage just to move to the new gate to get on my second plane–and both flights were both on Thai Airways! For some reason, the floor I was in didn’t have any travelators.

Well, I reached the gate (eventually), sighted my colleagues who had taken a different airline earlier, and boarded after a short wait. Eyes falling shut, as the place took off, I smiled at the sight of all the seats filled with Buddhist monks in their yellow garb. It hit me, then: I was on my way to Nepal!

Then like a deflated balloon, I simply collapsed. I only forced myself awake when food was offered to me, but other than that, I must have looked a mess until we had landed in the red-brick Tribhuvan International Airport of Kathmandu.

Tribhuvan International Airport

My next hurdle was to obtain the Nepalese visa that can be gotten upon arrival for most nationalities. My colleagues, who had applied for their visas in Singapore, breezed past me, while I had to tackle the longest line in the airport. Mentally kicking myself for making the others wait, I fidgeted for twenty minutes as the airport officials did their paper shuffling. When I had finally emerged, my colleagues and I found the fellow who was assigned to bring us to the hotel.

The hotel car was a little, battered-looking vehicle that had definitely had seen better days, but it served us well enough as we drove the fourteen kilometers from the airport to the Crowne Plaza Hotel Kathmandu – Soaltee.

What can I say about Kathmandu from what little I was able to see of it from within a car window? Well, it’s definitely still a developing country, chaotic and charged with engergy, similar to what little I remember of India when I was growing up, before the call center and technology boom. Lots of traffic, and lots of people piled atop motorbikes. The weather was pleasantly cool, but part of me wondered whether the fuzziness in the air was fog or pollution. On one hand, the sky was overcast, so slight fog may have been possible, but the sheer abundance of people I saw wearing nose and mouth masks suggested that it was indeed a brew of exhaust and smoke in the air. With our car windows rolled down, I took it in–crisp, cold, but clearly not so fresh. “Not something you’d want to breathe in every day,” my colleague quipped.

The buildings were packed close together and were in varying states of disrepair, but oh! Culture screamed at me from every angle! Women walked around in traditional dress, in swaying ankle length skirts, rich in color and texture. Monkeys climbed along the angry black telephone wires that cut across the roads. Tucked in between decrepit buildings was a golden spire from a random temple. The flowing script of the local language was swept on signs and billboards as often as the Latin alphabet. I even spotted an establishment dubiously named “The Shakira Dance Restaurant.” What a city!

We turned into a side road and arrived at Soaltee. The hotel reminded me of a grand old duchess–beautiful and elegant, but obviously a bit worn out. The man helping me with my bags informed me that it was 44 years old when I had asked. I briefly recalled reading that this place had once hosted Queen Elizabeth.

The Front of Crowne Plaza Hotel Kathmandu - Soaltee

My room itself is so-so. While the bed is wide and comfortable and the TV is flat-screened, the place smells rather musty. Another note: there is no way anyone is getting me to sit on that couch! It looks like the upholstery could crawl on its own, from all its dust mites.

My Room

The people, however, won me over completely. They smile and bow slightly, greeting everyone with a friendly “Namaste” that one feels compelled to mirror because of the good nature of the gesture. Folks I spoke to had said that this cheerfulness was a Nepalese trait, one that I like very much indeed.

I ventured to the grounds to withdraw money from the nearby ATM machine, but my eyes began hurting from my dry contact lenses, so I returned to my room to slip on my glasses and do some work before the planned welcome dinner of the company conference.

I’ve just returned from this dinner, which was mostly some delightful local fare, and very much similar (if not entirely the same as) Indian food. I’ve met some great people, some of whom I’ve interacted with online but have never met in person. More importantly (haha), I’ve met someone who can get me a discounted ticket on an hour long flight to the Himalayas! Woohoo!

And now, yawning but happy, I finish this post. Goodnight from Kathmandu, everyone!

Obviously, there's nothing on TV that interests me

Solo Exploring: Kuala Lumpur (Day One)

There’s travel and there’s business travel.

Though I had landed in Kuala Lumpur on a Wednesday, I hadn’t wandered farther than two blocks away from Shangri-La, since work and the company event within the hotel had captured my attention for the first two days. When I finally ventured out at noontime on Friday, my colleagues had already made their way to the airport.

Did you know that the name Shangri-La actually refers to a mythical Himalayan utopia,  isolated from the outside world and hidden in the mountains? Similarly, the hotel was a haven that had shielded me from both the cultural beauty and unsavory reality of a still-developing nation. Nevertheless, it was a gorgeous place–one that I savored thoroughly (I made sure to sneak away a few bottles of their awesome lotion).

My Room at Shangri-La Kuala Lumpur

But a minute after I had hopped into a cab with my luggage, ready to roll, my vehicle was stuck in traffic. It reminded me of Manila, somewhat, with its congested, bustling roads and metropolitan living.

Though ideally only a ten minute ride away from the hotel, it took me thirty minutes to get to Reggae Mansion hostel at the heart of the Chinatown and Little India district of Kuala Lumpur. My taxi driver got confused with the winding, narrow streets, and after circling around the area twice, he pulled out his phone and asked for the number of the hostel. Using his own line, he called the reception and found the place. Even though I might have been ripped off by his meter (30 Ringgit, really?), I appreciated the gesture, and  through his mistakes I caught a glimpse of the beautiful Jamek Mosque, which was a short distance away from my hostel.

The first thing I noticed at Reggae Mansion was that it was clean and well-lit. The second thing I noticed is that it was safe. Indeed, I couldn’t get in until the guard did something with a touchpad against the side of the wall.

Since my room wasn’t ready yet, I ate lunch at the courtyard of the hostel–to my guilt, it wasn’t Malay food. It was a delicious Rosemary Lamb dish, which I immediately chose because of the more affordable price of it compared to Singapore. After fueling myself with coffee, I was told my accommodation was prepared.

The Shared Room at Reggae Mansion

The Top Bunk

What a bed! I had to climb a scarily steep ladder to get up there, but it was cosy enough. The sheets were clean, the area was spacious and the ceiling was high. After dumping my things and changing from a dress into battered pair of jeans, I headed to the building I had seen earlier, the Jamek Mosque.

Jamek Mosque

The Jamek Mosque is one of the oldest in Kuala Lumpur, and is built on the first Malay burial ground in the city. It nestles by the Gombak River, and is built in a Moorish style. Pulling aside a set of tourists with a more pimped out camera than mine, I asked for a photo and afterwards crossed the river to see if I could enter the mosque.  Unfortunately, a sign emblazoned on the gate said that women who weren’t in headscarves weren’t allowed to enter, so I headed to KLCC, the Kuala Lumpur City Center, to see the famous Petronas Towers.

In Front of the Petronas Towers

The sight was pretty magnificent, in spite of the somewhat overcast weather, and I was disappointed to learn that the tourist area was under construction, and that no one would be allowed up beyond the 4th floor, unless you actually worked there.

Uncertain of where to go next, I moved from the Petronas Towers to the Convention Center nearby, and was shocked to find that that there would be an event that evening by the Vienna Boys Choir, whom I had loved since I had heard the group singing Pachabel’s Canon in D in high school (listen to it here!).

Impulsively, I bought the tickets–then realized a little belatedly that clad in jeans and a tank top, I was decidedly a bit too frumpy for the show. Checking out the map, I found the Kuala Lumpur Craft Complex a walking distance away from the Convention Center, and figured that I might as well take a peek and perhaps buy something for myself to wear for the night (heh, an excuse to shop, of course).

Kuala Lumpur Craft Centre

Well, once I arrived, the Kuala Lumpur Craft Complex seemed quite deserted, as pretty as it was. I was one of the few non-staff members milling around.

The Craft Centre Auditorium

However, the lack of people gave me a chance to stop and chat with some of the artists in the Artist Village, some of whom were quite chatty, asking me where I was from, and if I owned a gallery or whatnot.

Malay Artist at Work (Posing for me!)

For a while I looked at the clothing that I could possibly wear to the concert, but I realized that all the formal items were horrendously over my budget, and that I didn’t look as lovely in a kebaya as the mannequins. Instead, I bought the usual tourist atrocities (fridge magnets and post cards), I headed back to the city centre shopping mall Suria KLCC to make myself presentable. I figured that since people were always raving about the shopping in Malaysia, I had might as well indulge a little.

When I was finally dolled up and ready for the concert, I walked back to the Convention Centre and relaxed in the Plenary Hall where the Vienna Boys Choir would perform.

In the Kuala Lumpur Convention Centre Plenary Hall

They had flawless voices, utterly deserving of their fame. Along with the traditional songs (Ave Maria, O Fortuna, etc), they also sang a variety of styles, from Chinese folk songs to an absolutely adorable Alphabet Polka. The collection ended with the Blue Danube, in which little Malaysian girls stepped in to waltz with some of the boys. Impossibly cute! But the kicker was when they performed surprise, additional songs at the end–when a local, award-winning choir stepped in to join the boys in song.

Vienna Boys Choir and the Malay Choir

After the performance ended, it was nearly 11PM. A bit wary of how safe I’d be, I commuted back to the hostel and settled in to rest. And so ended a full, eventful day in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

Coming up next: Ina arrives, the Petronas Towers (Part II), and the Batu Caves!