“Don't Let The Bedbugs Bite”

March 20, 2010
Kuala Lumpur

Kuala Lumpur: the shiny, modern, bright face of the “new” Malaysia. It's home to the Petronas Towers, Asia's Twin Towers and until 2005, the tallest buildings in the world. It is in constant competition with its neighbor Singapore to take over as Southeast Asia's international business hub. Petronas = petrol. They've got oil and they've got cash. There's real money here. Malaysia does not consider itself a developing nation, evident in the attitude of a super nice and friendly Malaysian couple I met while traveling in Laos. Their English was better than mine and they beamed with pride when I told them I was going to visit their country. More people should visit, they told me. They could not understand why they got so few western tourists compared to neighboring Thailand (in the days to come, I would be able to answer their question). They were of Chinese descent (most Malaysians are either of Chinese or Indian descent) and suggested I visit Chinatown in KL then head up to Penang to eat till my heart's content. I had considered that, and my options were to stay on the Peninsula and make my way up to Penang, visit the highlands and tea plantations along the way, maybe hit a beach or two, go to Borneo in search of orangutans, or take off for the Perhentian Islands off the northeast coast of the peninsula. After talking with other travelers, I decided on three days in KL and a week in the Perhentians. I could think of nothing better to do before going to India than sit on a remote, relaxing beach in so-called paradise.

In January I got an offer from United Airlines to use my soon to expire miles for hotel rooms. Kuala Lumpur seemed just the right place to cash them in. I knew by this part of my trip I would be ready for a room that cost more than 20 bucks, and knew a lot of the budget accommodation in town were windowless holes. I booked two nights at the Citrus Hotel, near the monorail and “walking distance” from the Petronas Towers (it wasn't). The hotel had decent reviews online and a swimming pool, an essential element when you're close to the equator. After an hour long smelly taxi ride from the airport (this guy really needed to clean his cab), and a killer headache approaching migraine status, all I wanted to do was check in and lie down. I noted that the neighborhood was a little bit off – the hotel was off the main drag, and the main drag was an empty street. But it was Saturday and I guessed this might be a business district.

Once checked in, I knew my luxury accommodation was fantasy. The lobby was in need of an overhaul and the pictures from the website did not exactly match the real thing. Check in was relatively painless though, and I got to my room which at least had a safe and a flat screen TV. The bathroom was grotty and the toilet didn't flush all that well, but it was tolerable. The wifi was “down for maintenance” whatever that means, which certainly put an immediate damper on things. I've been booking all of my accommodation based on the availability of free wireless internet.

Frustrated and in pain, I took a migraine pill and decided to take a stroll around the neighborhood. I had on long pants and a sleeveless shirt. It was ninety degrees. I've never been to a Muslim nation before, and Malaysia is a moderate one. Women are not required to cover anything by law, and other religions are tolerated. Well in this part of town, I was second guessing that moderate stance. Not 5 minutes out of my hotel I was getting cat calls, stares, one guy downright stopped me and asked me into his car (incidentally in front of a hooker hotel). Just because you can see my arms does not mean I want to go to bed with you – and it does not give you the right to think it. Even the women were looking at me with disdain. I try to be a pretty tolerant person, but after several blocks of that, my self imposed tolerance was quickly turning to hatred. I did not expect to be treated that way in such a “modern” city, and was very uncomfortable. I got a new sim card and a bottle of water and returned to my hotel, hoping their restaurant was okay because I would not be venturing out again. That's when the real fun started.

I had been without TV for a week and wanted some news. Too bad for me, CNN was also out, so I had to settle for CNBC or a channel split between repeats of American Idol and that Glee club show. I decided to make use of the amenities that were working and charge my electronics before heading off to the islands where power sources would be questionable. 10 minutes and poof! Power went out. No, problem, said the front desk, maintenance would be right up to fix it. They showed up quickly enough and reset the box. 30 minutes later, and it happened again. I asked for another room but was told that there was no need, and once again the maintenance guy came up and reset the circuit, told that it would not happen again. I was hungry and called down to room service, ordering the chicken rice. “No chicken rice.” “No chicken rice! It's only like your national dish. Fine, just send up some vegetable curry.” “No vegetable curry.” She had to be kidding me. I settled on a club sandwich and a glass of white wine. “No white wine.” If I wanted, they did have beer but it was 10 dollars a bottle. No thanks, I was not giving this hotel any more money than absolutely necessary. I'd stick with water. Luckily, I'd smuggled in a few vicodin and promptly popped one as I waited for my sandwich to arrive. A club sandwich without bacon is just turkey, mayo, lettuce and tomato. Except here, where the turkey was replaced with some smokey flavored chicken product. At least the fries were good.

Just as I was getting into an overdubbed Alien Vs Predator, the power went out a third time. It came back quickly though, so I decided to just go to sleep. I pulled back the sheets of one of the beds and inspected it again (the first thing I do when I check into any room is pull back the sheets and check the mattress seams for bugs) and there they were, 3 or 4 little bugs on the sheets. I jumped and turned to the other bed. This one had bugs on top of the comforter; I was scared to see what was underneath. I called down to the front desk and told the guy I wanted someone up in 5 minutes to move me to another room on another floor and that it better be an upgrade. All he could say was “bedbugs? Are you sure, sir?” I was moved alright, but it was a downgrade. My new fancy room had probably been outfitted in 1982, and not updated or cleaned since. I could feel the grime from the carpet soiling my feet. It smelled of mildew. The grout in the bathroom was black. Everything was a little bit moist. The TV had one channel, and it was in Malay.

The beds did not seem to have any bugs, but I was not taking any chances. I broke out the big guns: permethrin. This is heavy duty stuff, used to treat clothes, mosquito nets, tents, etc. for prolonged outdoor use such as camping or jungle trekking. It lasts several washes, and I'd treated a few items of clothes with it at home. Warnings are all over the canister to NOT use indoors, NOT get on your skin, NOT breathe in, etc. This stuff was lethal and exactly what I was looking for. I used one of my facemasks from Vietnam and sprayed down the bedding. Then I covered my body and the sheets with an extra layer of Deet for good measure. I wrapped myself tightly in a travel sheet that I'd pre-treated with permethrin, let the vicodin kick in, and tried to sleep.

The next morning, I awoke, a little worse for wear, with only a few bites on my ankle.