Safely at Cosmic Hotel, 21 Jalan Maharajalela, 50150 Kuala Lumpur, Wilayah Persekutuan
Am knackered after a delayed flight from Mumbai. And hours of research via wi-fi at Kuala Lumpur International Airport this morning for appropriate and affordable accommodation.
Of course there's a bit of a story as to why I couldn't complete my hotel booking back in Mumbai yesterday. Sadly, my last 12 hours in Mumbai left a slightly sour taste in my mouth, after having such fond memories of it the first time round.. Guest house owner tried to pull a number on me. My favourite chai shop actually pulled a number on me - involving just a few rupees. But it's the principle of it. It made me think that Mumbai is essentially dog eat dog, and once the Bombay businessmen beguile you at the beginning with their friendliness and Bombay-stylee blarney, they then go for the final plunge into the rib at the end. Stupid, small-minded money grabbing idiots. I am not going back to Marol Residency. No wonder Anil Deshmukh has an altar of a Goddess that encourages money to come into his guesthouse. With that kind of petty money-pinching attitude, he'll need all the Hindu Goddesses he can get.
Ta-ta, that corner of Marol. I still like it, but I've already looked into a brand new hotel further up the road, and discovered a treasure trove of a restaurant. That is the magic of Mumbai. So much crammed into one crossroad that it almost hurts the brain.
Oh, and another thing. I was told at Mumbai airport that wi-fi was not permitted because it was a security risk. You know, terrorists opening up their laptops, liaising with each other and setting off bombs remotely. The airport official outside actually said that to me.
What a load of bombay bollocks. They just can't be arsed. The largest airport in India, and one of the most technologically connected up places on the planet - and I get that old crap.
Hello, Malaysia. The immediate impressions of efficiency and friendliness, after the bollocks of Bombay was bliss. Astoundingly blissful.
Let's see how I get on in the next four days here. On 80 ringetts. Hardly enough to keep me in Cokie-Colas of a day ... But never mind, I clearly like a challenge ... Actually, I don't. This trip has just been one of those trips.
p.s. One heart-warming experiences was when I bought a secondhand watch from the horologist. He only charged me 400 rupees (£5) for the watch. He put in a new movement and a pair of new hands. I don't much care if it stops working after a short while. I partly bought it for it's beautifully blue-gemmed bracelet strap. And for it to remind me of watch-repairers gentle, honest soul.
p.p.s. Remind me that there have been wonderfully smooth days too in India. I must tell you of the magically-timed day in Mangalore on 20 March - just a transitional point before flying back to Mumbai. Everything about it was meant to be. It was one of those days. Just perfect.
Am knackered after a delayed flight from Mumbai. And hours of research via wi-fi at Kuala Lumpur International Airport this morning for appropriate and affordable accommodation.
Of course there's a bit of a story as to why I couldn't complete my hotel booking back in Mumbai yesterday. Sadly, my last 12 hours in Mumbai left a slightly sour taste in my mouth, after having such fond memories of it the first time round.. Guest house owner tried to pull a number on me. My favourite chai shop actually pulled a number on me - involving just a few rupees. But it's the principle of it. It made me think that Mumbai is essentially dog eat dog, and once the Bombay businessmen beguile you at the beginning with their friendliness and Bombay-stylee blarney, they then go for the final plunge into the rib at the end. Stupid, small-minded money grabbing idiots. I am not going back to Marol Residency. No wonder Anil Deshmukh has an altar of a Goddess that encourages money to come into his guesthouse. With that kind of petty money-pinching attitude, he'll need all the Hindu Goddesses he can get.
Ta-ta, that corner of Marol. I still like it, but I've already looked into a brand new hotel further up the road, and discovered a treasure trove of a restaurant. That is the magic of Mumbai. So much crammed into one crossroad that it almost hurts the brain.
Oh, and another thing. I was told at Mumbai airport that wi-fi was not permitted because it was a security risk. You know, terrorists opening up their laptops, liaising with each other and setting off bombs remotely. The airport official outside actually said that to me.
What a load of bombay bollocks. They just can't be arsed. The largest airport in India, and one of the most technologically connected up places on the planet - and I get that old crap.
Hello, Malaysia. The immediate impressions of efficiency and friendliness, after the bollocks of Bombay was bliss. Astoundingly blissful.
Let's see how I get on in the next four days here. On 80 ringetts. Hardly enough to keep me in Cokie-Colas of a day ... But never mind, I clearly like a challenge ... Actually, I don't. This trip has just been one of those trips.
p.s. One heart-warming experiences was when I bought a secondhand watch from the horologist. He only charged me 400 rupees (£5) for the watch. He put in a new movement and a pair of new hands. I don't much care if it stops working after a short while. I partly bought it for it's beautifully blue-gemmed bracelet strap. And for it to remind me of watch-repairers gentle, honest soul.
p.p.s. Remind me that there have been wonderfully smooth days too in India. I must tell you of the magically-timed day in Mangalore on 20 March - just a transitional point before flying back to Mumbai. Everything about it was meant to be. It was one of those days. Just perfect.
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