Here I arrived in Kuala Lumpur, capital of Malaysia, in recent days. If
for many guys my age, a name like Natasha pig sounds like a name of a girl playing in porn movies, for me, the name Kuala Lumpur has always sounded like an exotic name, a name heavy usage of a mythical city that I absolutely had to visit ...
So here I am in this city that I wanted to visit for years. A city that has entered the imagination of many people in 1998 were unveiled when the Petronas Twin Towers, 452 meters high. As good as I am curious, I inquired. Kuala Lumpur, multicultural city if ever there was one with its unique blend of Malay culture, Indian and Chinese ... the name sounds exotic ... this has got to mean something exotic.
Unfortunately, I quickly disbanded when I learned that means Kuala Lumpur, Malay, muddy confluence! Wicked name pocket! Maybe I preferred not to know. The garbage translation, Kuala Lumpur, it sounds sweet. " And that's all that matters.
At first contact, the only point of view of the modern city, we see immediately that we are light years away in metropolises of Southeast Asia such as Phnom Penh, Saigon or Hanoi. A Skytrain, skyscrapers and shopping malls everywhere filled with chic boutiques (name it, all the big brands are here) with air conditioning drafts to the tenth power you feel 50 feet before entering the building, it destabilizes the Sven when it's been three months since the only markets that you see on the street or in buildings constructed of gray concrete in the '60s.
Shock especially for my throat, the evidence that modernity is not perfect ... three months to sleep in rooms with four dollars a night, three months to eat in the street, three months to walk on pavements strewn with waste, three months to sweat in bus routes from nine hours per 35 degrees Celsuis .. . and never sick. But a little afternoon rain to get in and out twice a mall in the air conditioning from hell and now I catch a cold! Other
shock of modernity in the solicitation on sidewalks and streets. I liked them, tuktuk drivers in Cambodia. Always "no thank you" with a smile, but I'll admit that in the end I started to have a strong thing to make me deal with every turn. On my last day in Phnom Penh, I think I have been asked at least 200 times. The same story every day for three months, it starts to get slightly iritis.
But that life is made. In Kuala Lumpur, tuktuk drivers and motorbike does not exist. Holy Guacamole! Deliverance! The Blessed Peace! Thank you my God from my heart to have brought the cities without tuktuk and motorbike! After being the target for three months, being able to simply walk on the sidewalk without getting yelled at every 15 seconds, not having to say no to the same driver nine times, be free to move and not having to plan their route street corners in advance to try to cross the least tuktuk is an indescribable feeling. Here is barely two taxi drivers offered me their services in ten days.
That life is beautiful! Long live freedom, individualism and indifference from the confluence. So excited about this newfound freedom that every morning when I leave to go walking in town, I kiss the street with tears of joy to thank her for what she gives me ... so fucking happy that I also returned in the evening.
kiss the sidewalk? You do would not a little Mongolian? Perhaps, but when it's been three months since you are a victim of mental torture and relentless tourist, you can not understand how it feels good to be in a huge impersonal city where everyone's laughing at your presence. The complete anonymity, a small pleasure in life that I had forgotten that I found with great joy. Britney, now I understand your pain! Thank
confluence to be a big impersonal city. And thank you to
10 000 tuktuk drivers to allow me to appreciate the impersonality of Kuala and make me a disciple of John Paul II.
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