Malaise in Malaysia

How did I even find out about Kuala Lumpur?

Malaysia never factored into my travel dreams. I’m not sure why. I’ve long dreamed of elephants in Thailand, seeing the temples at Angkor Wat, and eating street food in Vietnam, but Malaysia never pinged on my radar. But when I altered my plans to include Sumatra, I noticed how close it was to Malaysia, and I recalled seeing pictures of Kuala Lumpur’s mighty Petronas Towers. Then I learned that I could fly from Medan to KL for $15. Sold. I rearranged my itinerary and headed for a quick three days in Malaysia.

My first impression of Kuala Lumpur was: MALLS. Malls, everywhere! Weirdly, this felt comforting to me. At about a month into my travels, homesickness is starting to hit me. HASHTAG SWEATER WEATHER reads my hometown Instagram feed, and while my friends at home are enjoying the onset of fall, I’m still sweating through my shorts and coating myself in sunscreen and DEET. So to be honest, seeing an Auntie Anne’s right upon disembarking in KL was sort of heartwarming. (I didn’t buy a pretzel, though!)

My hostel in KL is in a funky hipster area and I’m absolutely loving the trains here. They’re monorails, so you get a great view of the city as you go, they’re clean, and they are super on time. The arrival boards announce when trains are coming down to the second, which is mindblowing to this NYC gal who has spent upwards of an hour languishing on MTA platforms with no sign of help…

I hit a bit of a wall in KL, though. On my first day I headed to the Central Market, which I absolutely loved. It’s touristy but filled with fun souvenirs to browse, and near to Chinatown, where I enjoyed a refreshing mata kucing, or longan berry juice.

I then went to the Petronas Towers and marveled at their height. I’m not necessarily an architecture junkie, but a good skyscraper will never fail to impress me. As I hung around the Petronas Towers waiting for the nightly light show, though, I started to fade. I had an overpriced beer overlooking the fountains and felt a little lonely with all the expats around me enjoying afterwork conversation. Then I browsed a supermarket (one of my favorite things to do while traveling), and couldn’t help but feel lonely there too. I’m sure all the couples and families around me doing their daily shopping were just going through the motions, same as I would be if I were back in America. But there’s something really comforting about shopping for a homecooked meal with your partner, and in that moment I wished that I, too, were an expat, picking up my nightly groceries.

The next day, I’d planned to take a day trip to Malacca, but when I woke up I just couldn’t go through with it. I craved a break from buses and trains. I have three months of travel ahead of me and I needed to focus on my purpose for being here and get my head back in the game.

So on day two, what did I do to refocus? Eat, of course! “What’s in Kuala Lumpur?” a sweet midwestern gal I met in Bukit Lawang had asked me. “Umm…the Petronas Towers? And food,” I replied. Yes, like many places, I’m here for the food. Malaysia, like Singapore, benefits from having been settled and colonized by lots of different cultures over the past few centuries. Well, ok, the people who were colonized probably don’t think it’s a benefit, but my stomach does. I eagerly dug into the Indian side of Malay food after so many weeks of Indonesian rice dishes. Roti canai and teh terik: soft, hot, greasy flatbread with veggie curry and sweet tea, all for about $2 USD.

Curry laksa was also on my hit list, and I found a great one in the Central Market. This creamy coconut curry is lavished over prawns, squid, tofu puffs, green beans and thick noodles, and I could have bathed in it. I also ordered a side of coconut rice tinted with blue pea leaves, because I’m never one to say no to a double carb meal.

Finally, I had to try durian while in Malaysia. This fruit is notorious for being stinky and disgusting, but many southeast Asians swear by it. It’s supposedly exceptionally delicious in Malaysia because here it ripens on the vine. So I got a recommendation on variety from Rafiq, the guy working the front desk at my hostel, and headed to a night market.

“One small Musang King, please,” I asked with as much authority as I could muster.

The guy sized me up.

“This, small,” he said, pointing to a few small pieces of durian that had already been taken out of the shell and wrapped up. This was much cheaper and he probably had it on hand for tourists like myself who wanted to try it, but couldn’t actually take the smelly, stinky, dastardly heat.

“No, I want to open my own,” I replied. I had a feeling I definitely couldn’t take the heat, but if I was going to do this, I was going to do it the legit, authentic way.

He shrugged, probably thinking it’s your funeral, picked a small durian and handed it to me.

I gulped. I sat down. I put on plastic gloves (recommended unless you want to smell like durian for days), and picked up the yellow pulpy fruit. The acrid smell hit my nostrils and reminded me of the rotten fermented shark I ate in Iceland. Not really something you want to recall while eating a fruit. I powered through and took a bite.

It was not too bad once I started eating it. The texture didn’t bother me—a little slimy, but better to think of as custardlike. I kept going. Asians and Westerners alike stared at me as they passed. I was definitely the only Westerner chowing down on durian.

Final verdict? Not bad, not great. I could eat more, but I didn’t need to. I had the rest wrapped up and brought it back to Rafiq, whose eyes widened in appreciation. He hadn’t had the Musang King, his favorite, in ages, he told me. I had paid about $11 USD for the fruit, which is pretty astronomical in Malaysia so this didn’t surprise me. It was worth it for the experience and to see Rafiq tear through the fabled fruit in the courtyard of the hostel, as only a true Malaysian can.