Another grande mocha latte, please

So, I finally made it to KL. And, typically, things didn't exactly go so well. I got in after midnight and all the ATMs were down for maintenance, requiring a half hour wait. The cab driver couldn't find my hostel. When he did, it was locked up tight. When the manager was finally roused, they didn't have my reservation (to be fair though, I should have let them know I'd be 2 days late.) But, eventually I got settled and the next morning, I set off to do a few errands and realized that all the trouble over the last few days had been totally worth it.

I have no idea what I would have thought of Malaysia if I had come directly from Canada. The air is humid and sweet with incense burning in alters on every corner. Palm trees and food stalls line the streets, cats wandering in between patrons legs. Lanterns are hung from the shops in anticipation of Chinese New Year. Women in traditional Hindu and Muslim dress pass punks with cellphones. Compared to Canada, it's definitely pretty exotic. And all I could see was the Western-ess of it.

I can read the signs on the shops. English is taught in school and everyone I've spoken to, I've understood. I forgot how good it feels to do a little harmless eavesdropping. I recognize the foods. Western music comes out of the shops and restaurants. Granted, it sometimes sounds like late 80s Rod Stewart, but judging from the many t-shirts wandering the streets, the Sex Pistols and the Ramones are alive and well. (Oh, ironic t-shirts, oh, band t-shirts - staples of my youth, and, uh, adulthood. My heart is glad to see you.) There are malls that take a form I recognize. There are 7/11s. I had a Greek salad. With real feta!!!

All I felt was joy that first day. And not a quiet, zen-like joy. More like a butterflies in your stomach, 15 year old great first kiss with a boy you really really like kind of joy. When I stumbled across a two story, ENGLISH bookstore, I actually think I did a jig of joy.

I got my haircut and it looks good for the first time in 3 months. I've drank so much coffee that my nerves are permanently shot. There's a Kenny Rogers Roasters, for gods sake. There were...well, you get the idea. It was like coming home, if only home were warm.