my first leap

I’m at the internet area in Hotel Chinatown 2. I didn’t know this existed for a day or two – so blind – it costs just a little bit more and there are only 5 computers (compared to Kafe Internet (my favourite) which has over 30 high speed connection) so if you don’t like someone standing by waiting for you to finish or you like the buzz of hearing over 20 youngsters play computer games beside you – then Kafe Internet would suit you more where you can pay by the hour or pay when you finish. The other night, Seb and I were on the computers when there was a blackout. I remember the two deaf teenagers on my left sign languaging to half a dozen other deaf people on their computer and every now and then they’d make me jump with some squeeking and horse-like laughing; behind me this older guy was having a very very serious emotional one to one (well, one to one with many listening in – via Skype no doubt) in Cantonese with, I thought from the language used, a loved one who either is a guy or unfortunately has a guy’s name. Seb was in the middle of a long email; I wasn’t. We checked out another place close by which looked a bit dodgier but I did see it in the dark – it too was experiencing a blackout at the same time. There’s no short supply of internet cafes here in Kuala Lumpur but I personally liked Kafe Internet close to Chinatown.

After yesterday’s post on Seb’s hyper-energetic superhuman physical presence; I got back from the internet cafe to him knocked out for the day. Next day, he was still not feeling very good, which is unusual for him it seems. He tells me he’s seldom ill so this was worrying. He tells me he saw a Chinese medicinal place where you can get a free consultation but of course pay for the medicine prescribed. So after some beef noodles and collecting the laundry from the hostel place nearby that does laundry by the kilo, we go to this Chinese doctor. I leave him to do some shopping for my family. I come back and he’s got really chummy with the Chinese guy behind the counter. I later find out he got really chummy with the doctor as well, so chummy the doctor gave him two books ‘Setting back into the moments’and ‘Now is the knowing’ – Buddhist books. He has a way with men. Okay, he too has a way with women. Man, he has a way with people, children, cats and dogs and rats! Am I envious? Yes. Is it like walking with Buddha sometimes. Yes. Can it be frustrating sometimes? Yes. It’s difficult to live up to Buddha-like people, especially when what you want to hear is plain biased bullshit and you get wisdom instead. Actually, I lie, Seb gives good bullshit as well. Anyway, he shows me these bags of bits of herb crush to bits of dust; it didn’t look appetising.

We shop and we take everything I bought to the nearest post office within reach of Chinatown. It is within the bus building where there are lots of food stalls – but the air conditioning is either non-existent or broken or not working well so it gets hotter than the outside – and booths to buy tickets. People hassle you talking jibberish in my eyes but are probably trying to get you to buy their tickets. The post office is near booth 27, up the stairs and on the next floor, in an area where no signs lead to it and you only know it exists by asking people. The young thin guy in the post office is bored of his job but still manages to do a good thorough job. We’ve met him before. This time Seb encourages me to send everything in a box. We discuss the merits of a box that can’t go through the letterbox or four A4 envelopes of stuff that will. The box wins because sticking the stamps on envelopes with glue can take some fiddling time. This time, it’s going recorded delivery and by the fastest simplest route.

After the post office, I thought I’d give this Chinese doctor a try. I’ve started to develop prickly heat around my neck area and my ankle area the last couple of days and the pills don’t seem to work for this. I see this doctor. He asks me where I’m from originally. I tell him Vietnam and that’s it, I’m Vietnamese in his eyes. He asks me if I know this Vietnamese person, that Vietnamese thing, this Vietnamese thing etc. No, I respond to them all. He prescribes me herbs that look exactly like Seb’s. He tells me these herbs will cool the heat down in my body, same thing he said to Seb. This friendly woman weighs out bits of herb dust and I find out I have a weeks worth, a packet to be taken in the morning and one at night. I’m really looking forward to drinking herb dust sloshed in water, yum yum not.

Back at the hotel, we decide on tonight’s food choices. Seb disappears to leave me to nap for a while. He’s chummy with the guy at the hotel desk – no surprise there. And he comes back with a list of recommendations. The hotel staff are really friendly and very helpful. I like this hotel. When we first got here, they gave us a twin room, but Seb didn’t like it. They gave us another room, but I just mentioned that it feels claustrophobic – Seb is off downstairs before I say the rest of the sentence, that it’s okay. When he’s back, I learnt that Seb went downstairs and explained that me, his wife-to-be (we thought it would be better for us if we pretended as it’s a muslim country; wherever we go people naturally believe I’m his wife for some reason so we just left it – oh, to people we are getting married in November) is scared of small spaces; the man Seb’s really chummy with said he’d give us another room next day. The room we have now is big and has windows – the advantages of having Seb being the way he is, chummy and energetic, and me being the neurotic wife-to-be and to many the traveller-actress-drama queen-maniac-itch pot-blogger. We didn’t leave the room til really late today; Seb not feeling himself; me enjoying sleeping til late for once and yet they still cleaned our room when we got back. I was pleasantly surprised. It’s either very normal and I’m just so easily pleased or this place is pretty cool. Though, if you do go here, there are rooms that have no windows and at night asleep in your bed, you’d be surprised to hear the snoring man next door and think that you’re really just in a thin cleverly disguised box in the middle of a hall and every now and then people walk by talking very loudly. It depends on which room you’re given. I later find out the room we ended up in – a good room – is a deluxe room and Seb had to pay a bit extra for it. In the end, we had Indian food. We were recommended this place on Lebur Ampang called ‘Sangeethar’ – I would so recommend this place. The food is simply out of this world. The lemon ginger tea is as delicious as the Triveni drink of, yes, a reminder, apple, pineapple and ginger.

Tutup (Closed)

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Thanks William and Adrian for your comments on Silent Witness.

To my bro Si, you repeating 2 of my lines made me realise watching myself would be so embarrassing! Man, that Chinese accent, how embarrassing!

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It’s not the mountain we conquer but ourselves. – Edmund Hillary (explorer).

Yesterday night I packed all my crap into my backpack and waited for Ling and her big orange car (which I didn’t see at first – Ling was shocked and my reassurance that I’m not that blind and that I was daydreaming did not wash down; I don’t think she believes me).

Ling drove me back to her place but before we went upstairs, we stopped by at her favourite juice store. There, I found out I can combine fruits to make the most unbelievable flavours. One of her favourites which I tried was the mixture of mango, guava, milk and pudding. Heavenly, sweet but without the sugar (I’ve been told). I asked her about this pudding but after a minute of explanation, I gather only it’s a type of pudding that’s pronounced in Mandarin ‘buding’ (like pudding but with a ‘b’); she tried to show me it in its physical form but she explained after searching that the owner probably put it in the fridge to keep cool so I left it at that – the mysterious Taiwanese pudding. She had another combination of kiwi and pineapple – just as yummy. She then took me to her local comic store where she borrows comics and novels and the like, like a library but not a library; you pay a tiny amount of a couple of dollars for each comic and when you’ve finished you take it back – there is a due date and you’re fined if you go over – Ling had to that’s how I know.

Ling’s place is a spacious bedsit with a bathroom. My things have invaded a little corner of the bed and my aim til I leave is to get rid of as much stuff as I can. Today, looking at Taipei’s Metro System map (MRT) that I’ve managed to live in the near (not far end) east of the metro (Zhongxiao Fuxing), the near west (Ximen) and the near south (Taipower Building). I moved in – though Yating kindly offered for me to stay until they move in next weekend – so I can attack Ling’s DVD collection (she put aside ‘Three Times’, ‘Cafe Lumiere’ and her showreel for me to watch) and the Blockbuster store nearby.

I got out late this morning and found a Sushi Express near the MRT – total heaven! I’m addicted to raw fish or you can argue I’m addicted to wasabi – not the same without wasabi and lots of it! I quite like Sushi Express because you face the plates of sushi going around on a belt so it’s kind of okay if you’re on your own; outdoor stalls are the same. I ask for miso soup this time; they don’t understand English; and I found out it’s simply ‘soup’ in Mandarin which I know how to say.

Ling had given instructions, after helping me ring around to find out where to find malaria tablets (thanks Ling), on how to find the largest chemist in Taipei called Shanghai Chemist. She had marked it out on a map and I left it by accident at Sushi Express! Luckily I remember the nearest MRT station – Ximen and the road it was on. When I got there I wandered about, no one seems to know where this chemist was; I was beginning to think that it didn’t exist and that somehow I didn’t hear Ling properly or I’m not saying it right. Finally, I asked a man at a small pharmacy and he directed me – competitor know-how I guess. I can understand directions but like when it’s said in English, I’m lost by the fourth direction so I keep asking and getting lots of practise. I find the road and then I find the chemist. I go to this older woman and ask her if she spoke English. She looks around and shakes her head. She asks me to write it. So I write it. She doesn’t know. I explain in my best Mandarin and lots of hand signals showing my insect bites. She runs to get some insect cream; I say no. I explain that I’ll be going to Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia etc. I don’t think I made sense but she got it. She came back with Lariam (Mefloquine), the one I’ve heard bad things about. I ask her if she has others. She comes back with another which I’ve not heard of; I open the box and read the detailed instructions which were luckily in English and it’s what is given if you’re suspected of suffering from malaria. She’s been so helpful but I didn’t want Lariam so I explained I’m looking for Malarone (a combination of Atovaquone 250mg and Proguanil 100mg); it’s more expensive than Mefloquine I say but doesn’t have the side affects of Mefloquine – one of which I know I’m prone to and that is you become more sensitive to the sun and heat (what the nurse said at my GP). I explain this to the lady. I manage to put it simply as the one I’m looking for is very expensive and it’s good. The one there (I point) is not good, and not good for going into the sun. She nodded; she knew; she understood. I told the lady I’d think about it. I’m going to see if there’s another solution.

Back in Zhongxiao Fuxing, I try to find the Post Office. Again asking lots of people; I understand straight ahead and then right or left but if they mention other things that just confuse me so I walk straight and then right or left then ask again. Once, I felt really good when I recognise what the boy told me; about passing a park (I know the word) and I was very pleased with myself. Asking someone directions can be upsetting I feel; in China, any woman I’d call her ‘sister’ and they seem pleased because I guess they think I believe they’re young-looking. I called a bunch of young boys ‘young brother’ and they seem okay about it, though I’m not sure if that’s right. I will ask Ling later. Once I found the Post Office (the front is green and has banking facilities), I saw a desk with some wrapping paper and tape; I asked the woman sitting closest to me in Mandarin if it was okay for me to use. She said yes and I used it; wrapping my stuff very quickly dreading someone tapping me on the shoulder and asking me why I was using their stuff. No one did. I went to the counter and told the woman I’d like to send it to UK and asked her for snail mail, the slowest I said. I had already sent back my diving book near Yating’s place and the slowest was 2 months. In Australia, the slowest is 4 months, just right, my other diving book will get back the same time I get back, that’s okay with me.

I tried to track down the public library near Ling’s place, which offers free internet (Ling told me); it’s on the 8th floor above a fire station. I found it in the end. The only people who seems to know it exists are the teenagers. The internet is free (4 computers) but after 30 mins, if there is someone waiting, you will be kicked off and the computers are a little slower than in internet cafes but hey, it’s free. I used it and after sending 2 emails I was kicked off. So I am in an internet cafe. And the only people who know where internet cafes are the teenagers. Playing games via the net is very very popular here. Internet prices tend to range from $40-$100 depending how cool your computer (it’s $60 and the screens are flat screen) and cubicle/facilities look ($40 gets you a row of computers with no separation; $60 gets you a cool modern cubicle all to yourself, lots of space and a phone; naturally, the atmosphere of both are way different. Here there’s the club vibe with rap music blasting away in the background. Most are the same in terms of speed and accessibility. Sometimes you just don’t have a choice.

Now, I’m going to find out how to ring home the easiest way possible. Out to the moisture-laden streets again.

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Hi Olga!

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Photo $5.99 (92 x 115 in)

If I had to live my life again, I’d make the same mistakes, only sooner. – Tallulah Bankhead. American Actress, 1903–1968