From the Beach to the Ice Age / Koh Samui to Kuala Lumpur

It all started with a joke about lobsters and motorbikes, but after 26 hours in and out of buses, boats, travel agencies, border customs and moto taxis I arrived in Kuala Lumpur, Maylasia and the joke was long since over. Once the taxi drivers were gone and the bus had left it was just me, my new Swedish friend Emily and more symptoms that I would like to admit. You would think that after seering your own flesh under the unforgiving ultra violet that nothing would be more pleasant than the ice cold air-conditioning of a bus right? Think again, I had left my warm clothes in Bangkok and the paper thin blanket they provided for the ride just wasn't cutting it. No kidding, I nearly froze to death right there in my seat. Then came the aches. It started in my neck, gradually crept into my head and joints, once it had set it in even my fingertips hurt. I thught to myself, that couldn't be good.

It was 4:30am when we were dropped off at the mouth of Chinatown, we succeeded in tracking down a hostel in short order, met up with a friendly Yank named Mark, booked a triple and crashed until noon. When I awoke it felt like I had been beaten with a hot aluminum bat and forced to chug a mug full of broken glass.

Despite the obvious discomfort and strange zombie-like state I was in, I rustled up some over the counter stuff in the pharmacy and made my way to KL Tower with the others. The view was stunning, but the AC was on full tilt and I was quickly fading. Determined not to make a scene by expiring in KL's second most popular tourist attraction, I propped myself up with my tripod, managed to snap some pics, admired the view and stay conscious. Far more difficult than it sounds. When it was over I was pleased as punch to reenter the balmy evening air.

Once we were back outside I felt better. In celebration of our ascent we found am open air restaurant and ordered up enough Indian food to sink a ship...by accident of course. We thought we ordered four dishes to share with 3 orders of naan bread. What we ended up with was that, multiplied by 3. It was culinary comedy, they actually had to pull up a second table to accomodate the feast. Other patrons looked on in amazement and confusion. Admittedly, we were something of a spectacle and to make things even more rediculous we barely dented the spread despite stuffing our faces until we could barely move. In the end it cost a grand total of 27 Ringette ($7US) and it was wonderful (even if most of it was still on the table).