Tag Archives: kuala lumpur

Version 0.67 (The More Modern, the More Destitute)

05/23/19

Living, living, and living. Hardly writing I am. But am I really even living? Sometimes I wonder this. Writing can be living too, though. Yes?

Kuala Lumpur is a fascinating city (I wrote something similar in my last journal). It  seems to me like the melting pot of Asia. Chinese, Malays, and Indians being the predominant ethnicities here. Thais I think make up the majority of the minority. So, it’s sort of a melting pot, but not necessarily to the degree that one might say the United States is. I haven’t seen more destitute and homeless anywhere since leaving the U.S., though. It seems the more developed a country becomes the more poor and homeless, at least in its cities, it produces. And nuts. It produces more nuts too. This is probably an effect of being homeless, penniless, friendless, having to scrounge and beg for change or food, picking out scraps from trash bins, sleeping on a piece of cardboard on a concrete sidewalk beneath an awning, wearing the same filthy articles of clothing everyday. I recall walking along a sidewalk recently and passing a half-crazed looking woman, who nonetheless did not look poorly dressed, only to hear a crash and the smashing of glass bottles shortly after. I turned around to see that she had overturned a trash can into the street. Only a moment later a blue construction helmet flew out of the bushes lining the sidewalk, then out came this woman who simply proceeded to continue sauntering down the sidewalk like nothing unusal happened. There have been others too: the filthy Indian man sitting on the curb shouting at some imaginary figure—I can only imagine obscenities—the guy on the street corner yesterday, bent in half, face down on the concrete with a metal bowl in his outstretched hands; and the types one sees everywhere, sitting with a paper cup, faces passive, expressionless, barely a glimmer of life in their eyes, their bodies sunken into themselves like a torpedoed and sinking ship. This is life in a modern, developed city. Something I saw less of in Bangkok, and and saw none of my entire time in Vietnam.

Version 0.65 (The Chocolate Cafe, and What it Means to be Locally Anything)

05/10/19

The hostel where I am working is next door to a craft chocolate shop. Finally popped in today for a brief visit while on my way elsewhere. Talking to the staff woman there it was interesting to hear her say “this is made with all local cacao.” It just took me a moment to process that because so often in the States I hear about this or that is local even if in reality the ingredients at least are not. Local chocolate and local coffee in the U.S. isn’t all that local. The process of turning the raw ingredients into a finished product may be done locally (local to the retailer, or the customer buying from the retailer), but chocolate (or cacao) and coffee are imported from hundreds or thousands of miles away. To be in a country where to say “this is local” as a product that in the U.S. or, say, Europe or any other non-tropical/sub-tropical region of the world is something exotic (even though coffee and chocolate are two things likely hardly viewed as exotic; colonialism, ahem *cough*) is, really, just kinda neat. There’s nothing truly remarkable for it, except that I have the opportunity to be here. I mean, THAT is truly the remarkable thing.

So, anyway, they have a chocolate tap in their counter that continually flows. I was given a sample of this on a spoon: 72% chocolate, and the rest sugar. Nothing else. It was quite good, and easy to let one’s imagination run rampant with visuals of employees’ (or my own) heads under the faucet, mouths wide open gulping it down. I’m looking forward to returning for maybe a meal or a coffee as they are a full service coffee bar and kitchen as well.

I finished my last training shift at the hostel today, and will officially begin working and being paid (very little) tomorrow. I am now out for a stroll, on the hunt for some coffee and good food as it’s about time for dinner.