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Tired, hurried and lacking enough limbs for our ever expanding luggage, there’s also a feeling of excitement as we take a morning rush hour subway train from KLCC across the city to Sentral. That’s because we’re at the precipice of a transforming moment on this trip, as company, emphasis and continents are about to shift.
The Visit Malaysia in 2008 campaign maybe wasn’t working in the way they’d intended. I’d now received seven Malaysian passport stamp in two weeks – all probably from the same, now greying immigration officer despondently asking herself “What is so wrong with my country that he always leave again within a few hours of arriving?”.
Tiger Airways kindly kept their end of the bargain and delivered us safely the Kuala Lumpur Low Cost Carrier Terminal (LCCT) – a much smaller, more out of the way, less handsome version of the plush, award winning KLIA. For me, it was the second time in Malaysia in eight days, and for Craig – the first time in eight years.
Navigating from one point on the globe to another sparks quiet satisfaction, but the journey itself kindles a series of other odd side effects, too. You feel in a condition of eternal transit – as if you belong no where but the mid reaches of the atmosphere with ambient music droning quietly into your semi-receptible, often half-deaf ears.
We crossed the causeway from Singapore into Malaysia – just for the day; and saw the many motorbikes and rather shoddy looking apartment blocks that make up central Johor Bahru. We then delved out of the city a little to peruse around the Sultan Abu Bakar Mosque and Royal Palace Museum. Somewhere along the way, we were invited to see around the house of a local woman.
