Underwhelmed

March 22, 2010
Kuala Lumpur

After two nights at the worst hotel I've ever stayed at, I needed an upgrade. I tried the Ritz Carlton, but they were sold out. I checked into my second choice, the Westin, for the night and there, I was reminded of what proper accommodation and hospitality are. Giant vats of iced tea and cucumber water greeted me in the lobby. A concierge that remembers your name. Doors held, bags brought up to your room immediately (as opposed to a 30 minute wait at my previous hotel), a room with a view, a working tea kettle, not to mention luxury items such as a a chaise lounge, separate tub and shower (genius bathroom design that I've decided my future house will feature), well stocked toiletries and mini bar and, best of all, a giant, king-sized, fluffy, 400 Egyptian cotton thread count adorned bedbug-free bed. I never wanted to leave.

Compared to where I'd been, this area of town was like night and day. I quickly surmised that I had been staying on a block that's sort of like 39th street and 10th, just as you drive out of the Lincoln Tunnel. It's got the mission on the right, Port Authority to the left, some hot dog stands, a couple of hostels, a lot of hustlers and taxi cabs, and not much else. A few blocks east, north, south or even west you'd find restaurants, subways, shopping. But, if you didn't know any better, you would not want to venture far. That's the part of Kuala Lumpur I was in for the first two nights. Now, I was on 5th avenue and 57th street. I went out to be greeted by a plethora of shopping malls and their requisite food courts. Food courts here are not a dirty word, as they turn out some pretty decent fast food, as well as house actual restaurants. I was across the street from the Short Hills Mall of KL, where the Chanel store seemed bigger than the one in Soho, complete with several very happy paying customers. In my current state of mind, I could have been persuaded to bag the rest of the trip and throw it all away on a purse. I'm not entirely sure that would have been a bad decision. But I digress. Down the road a bit was a futuristic and hectic mall dedicated solely to electronics. Then there was the sneaker floor of another mall...I got lost somewhere between a food court and rows and rows of hair salons. It was all very contemporary and money-centric. This was definitely the Kuala Lumpur people raved about.

After my afternoon mall perusal, some excellent chicken rice, a doughnut, and some pretty gnarly mint ice cream that I threw away, I retreated to the sanctuary of the Westin. I sat by the pool despite the passing thunderstorm and wet lounge chairs, ordered an overpriced glass of New Zeland sauvingon blanc, got hit on by the bartender (sorry buddy, but no dark gums for me), watched some long overdue CNN, and even considered eating dinner at the hotel's Italian restaurant (I'd just about sell my mother for a plate of rigatoni and meatballs at this point. No offense, Mom.). As I had to go out to get more cash (the islands I was headed to have no banks on them), I ended up walking through the upscale food court across the street from the hotel. Japanese caught my eye, and while a bowl of noodles wouldn't be Sunday dinner at my folks', it also would not be made from rice. Ramen noodles are made with eggs. I was unfortunately quickly slapped in the face. As I bit into my first gyoza and tasted chicken, I was transported back to where I was. They don't do pork here. Sadly, I knew my soup would have the same lack luster effect: unsatisfying and not the real thing. You just cannot effectively use something else to replicate things meant to be made with pork. I briefly considered the fact that Malaysia does not serve pork, so it wouldn't even be available for the next 10 days, and in India they (literally) feed the pigs shit, so I won't be having any there either. Not sure if they even have pigs in Nepal, so I'm really, really looking forward to Bali. I will probably start dreaming about it soon.

Back at the hotel, bright, fast and steady internet connection up and running, I attempted to secure a reservation for both my week on the Perhentians and my last night in Kuala Lumpur. Since my flight back to KL gets in late at night, I opted for an airport hotel, as I will be leaving the next day for Kolkata. Frustration instantly returned, and I discovered another reason why Kuala Lumpur will NEVER be Singapore: there are three, that's right, THREE airport hotels. And two of them were booked solid for some F1 thing. (Me: “what's that? ” Hotel: “its F1. We have no room bc of f1.” Me: "Yeah, you just mentioned. Thanks for your help, it was enlightening.”) The third is some Malaysian version of the Four Seasons, and with prices to match. I was able to book some place 16km from the airport, about which I'm a little nervous. It's meant for business travelers, and is over 100 bucks for the night, but that could mean just about anything here. I'm not so sure many women do business in this land, especially outside of KL, so who knows what I'm in for. Most likely locking the door and not showing off my tan at the pool.

As far as the islands were concerned, only 1 or 2 of the hotels have websites and nobody had gotten back to me. I called two places. One spoke zero English and hung up on me, the other one was booked. I jotted down a couple of phone numbers, took a bath and hoped I would find paradise the next day.