This is us walking the streets of KT, about to drop by Ayamas (a chicken place) for lunch.
The weekends in the state of Terengganu are Friday and Saturday; everything is therefore closed on Friday. For the rest of Malaysia, weekends are Saturday and Sunday. Moral of the story? Saturdays are one big nation-wide zoo.
Do nothing with your left hand. Malaysians in general are very offended by this, east coast Malaysians even more so. Not such a big deal you think? Being lefthanded, not only do you need to remember to not eat with your left hand, but to not to use your left hand to pay for something, to receive something from someone, to point to something...
Ah yes, pointing in Malaysia. Yes, Virginia, there is an art to this too. When you point, you simply make a fist, pressing your thumb flat on top and pointing it forward (the way one would hold the reins in English riding). Takes a bit of getting used to unless, of course, you’re under 12. In which case, you catch your parents doing it wrong and correct them. All the time.
Ali lost his reading glasses. Part of me was happy, because they seem to be permanently glued to the end of his nose, whether he is requires them or not, but the other part of me regretted that first thought as we were all soon inundated with “I don’t know” or “I can’t read it” during the entire stay at Redang. Anyway, interesting point here is that we went to an optometrist in KL to get a new pair, and the first thing she asked Ali was how old he was. And lo and behold there was a chart with ages...and matching prescriptions. Too funny. And dead on, I might add. 1.75 it is. Check it out.
Tea with susu manis (sweetened condensed milk) is totally delicious and addictive. And, for your travelling pleasure, it is available for take-out. So how? In a clear plastic bag, tied at one side at the top, straw sticking out the other side.
When it comes to rain in Malaysia, if the government put in one big central plug somewhere in the middle of the country, the entire nation could take one ginormous bath.
If you think you’ve seen some funky chip flavours, think again. Cheeky chicken, cuttlefish, cheezels, bbq tapioca, spicy curry (and you know it really will be), spicy tapioca...to name a few.
I get the squat toilets. I get the hose for washing yourself afterwards. I still don’t get the lack of drying. Yes, a few public washrooms have hand dryer machines. Yes, I’m pretty at yoga. But I do have some degree of decency, even as a matsalleh in Malaysia. I am not going into detail on this one. You figure it out. I just don’t get it.
When driving in Malaysia, make sure you come right up behind the person in front of you (especially if they are only doing 100kph on a narrow rural road), weave in and out several times as if you are about to pass, please don’t signal, and then pass as you approach a corner. If you are driving a Lexus, BMW or Mercedes, do it really badly, faster and while talking on the cell phone.
Never use your car horn in Malaysia. I am guess it must be quite rude. Perhaps not using it is one of the laws of Islam, and secures your place in the next world. Just think: horn use = eating pork.
There is something quite sweet, in a Roald Dahl kind of way, about watching one brother hold the umbrella while the other pees at the edge of the roadside, partway into the jungle, in the middle of monsoon rains.
No comments:
Post a Comment