Post 2: Vibrations of the City through a Bag of Soup

That probably doesn’t make a lot of sense so let me explain. Sunday was going to be a spectacular day! And, more or less, it was! There were some kinks though.

Kristen, my roomie for the duration of orientation, and I decided that we were going to go up to the skybridge on the Petronas Towers. We had to get up early (as if that’s challenging when your jetlag wants you to get up at five in the morning) after an attempt at a late night. We arrived with two other ETAs, Melissa and Adeel, to wait for the 1600 free tickets they distribute every day from the basement of the towers. We arrived and got in line and were lucky enough to make it before the cut off. It’s rather fascinating that they built this black stone line that weaves back and forth on the ground and everyone just stands on it. We stood on it. We followed it back and forth. We watched the video on the building of the Towers over and over and over. Then we got up to the counter and the man behind the counter asked for 50RM apiece (roughly 16 dollars) for our tickets.
Wait…they’re supposed to be free.
They were free.
Until about six months ago.
FAIL!
Curse the guide book published a year ago and similar faulty information from reliable sources!
We decided that it wasn’t worth it to pay and walked away. Our little group promptly split so that some could go eat breakfast and some could go…shopping!

I think everyone knows that I’m not a crazy shopper, but there is a certain allure to bartering and just looking at merchandise. Kristen wanted a knock-off purse, and I wanted these…they aren’t harem pants exactly nor hammer pants and you could definitely see some avid believer in the ways of yoga are. I just call them poofy pants. Basically, they have elastic at the bottom, are lightweight and billowy. I wanted those. Needless to say, definite success. It was hot and sticky and lots of people shouting and refusing to go lower and then hollering to have you come back and just buy whatever it was. Also, Angry Bird merchandise is popular. Very very popular. You can have multiple t-shirts, a polo shirt, a backpack or five, sandals and slippers and crocs, and a long night shirt all with Angry Birds all over them. Sorry, no pants.

So the day seems hunky-dory, right? Did I mention that I’ve continue to be sick? Skip the next part if you don’t want to know my symptoms. Basically, my nose has been blogged – not so much runny – but clogged with a wall of bright green-yellow boogers for the past four days. If that wasn’t enough, it seemed that the excess snot was beginning to ooze up my tear ducts and goober my eyes and crust on my lids when I slept. Lovely, no? I even thought that I had pink eye on Saturday until I got it checked.

My throat was getting sore and downright squeaky from overuse and talking about the noisy crowd as the day continued. But Kristen and I had a good time drinking freshly-made juice, talking to this random guy teaching in Korea, cramming into crowded monorail cars, and then heading back to the hotel to be flabbergasted that it was only 1pm. It had been a long day.

Trying to be relaxed on our one day off from orientation, we went to Starbucks to steal some more internet. I was waiting for a call from my dad’s friend who lives not far from KL and who was coming into town for a meeting. It was great to see someone that I’ve known since childhood even if I don’t know him and his wife terribly well. I’ve been surrounded by people who’ve known me (if at all) for almost a week. At that point, you’re not really feeling very understood and everyone is their version of polite. But back to my dad’s friends, they could tell me a bit more on what to expect as a foreigner living in Malaysia and various things to look forward to or look out for. Plus, having someone in-country who offers to be there if you need anything is just about priceless. I definitely hope to call on them for company (and not wild desperation) in the future.

We’re arriving closer to the significance of soup in a bag.

I was not feeling well. All the talking with friends of all sorts throughout the morning had made my throat really tight. It was difficult and rather painful to swallow, and my other symptoms of a really blocked nose and irritated eyes were persisting. Truly, not the worst of colds, but I wasn’t getting better as they days went by even though I was doing all I could to make myself better. It was time to see a doctor.

I was told that Prince Medical Center was the best I could get for care on a Sunday afternoon that was also in walking distance. I set out. It was supposed to be just round the corner. Technically, it was just round the corner, but the street was a lovely curve for quite a distance before it actually decided to corner. I ended up walking over the length of the entire hospital structure before being able to make it inside because the facility is surrounded by a giant fence that looks like it’s keeping wild animals (perhaps dinosaurs) in and people out. BUT I WANTED TO GET IN! And I did.

Everyone was very nice at the hospital and very helpful. They asked lots of questions and did a thorough exam and after I paid, they gave me my antibiotics in a gift bag. I suppose the gesture is nice and medication is a gift (since, apparently, I can’t get better on my own), but being sick is not a time I associate with receiving presents.

Anyway, by the time I was done seeing the doctor, it was past 6:30pm. I didn’t actually eat lunch because the heat had baked all desire of food right out of me, but it was time to eat. Naturally, I headed to the food street. It’s a bit of a walk from where I was, but I walked with purpose to arrive at a street which, literally, sells nothing but food from various food vendors. There are all sorts of things on sticks and being roasted and boiled and stir-fried. I just wanted something comforting. I found soup. I watched this lady methodically stick a basket of noodles in a boiling pot, gathering other ingredients to compliment it and throw it all together with some stock before calling for pick-up. I stared dumbly for a while trying to figure out how to communicate what I wanted. The server for the stall came up to me.

Me: Uhh…
Him: What you want? (said very nicely in broken English)
Me: This and this (point to two kinds of rice noodles) but not this (pointing to noodles made from wheat) and ayam (which means chicken).
Him: Okay. How you like? (gestures to pictures above stall) Curry…?
(long pause as I stare)
Me: That. (I pointed at noodle soup) For take-away.

I stood rather stupidly in front of the cart watching the woman continue to cook furious with various noodles and other things she pinched from bowls. I waited for her to bring out some sort of Tupperware or something which would indicate my bowl was up. No no. I didn’t get a bowl. No lid. I got soup in a bag. Well, two bags in a bag. They put my noodles and topping in one bag, the broth in another bag, tied those two bags shut together and then put them in a little plastic bag with handles. I took it from the server, paid, and then wondered how I was going to eat soup in a bag.

But first, the walk home! I really strode with purpose now because I wanted to keep my food hot. Granted, though it’s evening now, the temperature was still probably in the high 80s so it helped it keep it warm. As I stood at a particularly busy intersection waiting for a break in cars so I could dash across (crosswalks are obnoxiously red all the time so you just go when you can), I felt it. I felt the vibrations and rhythms of everything happening at that intersection. Little shakes, shudders, tremors, and ripples flowing through my bag of soup up into my hand. It was so strange! But you know that I liked it.

From there, I went to the hotel feeling a little triumphant that I would now be healed by antibiotics and soup…and then remembered I had no means to eat the soup. Thus, in a voice far more crackly and prone to sudden highs and lows than any boy in puberty I’ve ever met, I tried to make myself understood to one of the workers in the dining room that I was hoping she would give me a bowl and a spoon and maybe even a fork. Wonderful dear human being that she was probably read pathetic puppy all over my face, she scurried quickly to the kitchen and retrieved a large bowl, a spoon, a fork, and even napkins. With much thanks, I went to my room and ate some soup while watching a
movie I will not disclose for the sake of Kristen’s reputation. It was cheesy and edited for TV.

That was yesterday. Today was not so exciting. I just had more orientation concerning Malaysia and its educational system, Islam, and the language. Plenty of good information, but that doesn’t mean I paid attention the whole time. One of the antibiotics makes me a little dizzy so sometimes I focused on the fact that I was upright and not spinning around.

Who knows what Tuesday will bring. More speakers, more adventures, more insights, and the unexpected.