In KL again

So I’m in KL now, again. Flew in overnight. Got on the plane feeling bloody tired (flight was at 12.45am), and got off the plane at the other end more tired. Had a row of seats to myself and managed 4 hours sleep maybe, but still felt unnaturally buggered.

It’s a relief then to touch down finally with the hope of a soft bed to recuperate in. That’s not so easy in KL unfortunately. KLIA – the international airport – is not so bad. It’s still a fair hike out-of-town, but the express train delivers you there in a hurry. LCCT is a different story.

For a start LCCT – the domestic terminal that Air Asia flies into – is a barely glorified tin shed. Very rustic. Then you make it out of the terminal and there’s no train and the city, depending on traffic (which is usually awful) is about an hour away, by bus or taxi.

I caught a taxi. I couldn’t be fucked piling onto a bus and being deposited some place I’d have to catch a taxi from anyway. I was aching and tired, and craved a shower, and nothing less than being delivered to the door would do.

So an hour later there I was standing at the check-in counter of the Impiana being told, to my general unsurprise, that my room wasn’t ready yet, and probably wouldn’t be for hours. Drat I thought, but with a resolution the Stoics would have admired I gathered myself, found a place to change into a fresh shirt at least, and then sat down for a buffet breakfast (I have to write about these buffet breakfasts some day).

I went for a walk then, and not unexpectedly found myself in KLCC, the Petronas Towers. I made my way to a familiar haunt when in town, Kinokuniya. As usual I bought a couple of books I have no space for in my luggage, and  wandered downstairs to an elegant restaurant where I sat by the window sipping on an iced lemon tea and read one of my new books. It was 30 minutes of relative serenity, but then my aching bones reminded me I needed some comfort.

I made my way back to the hotel to find that my room still wasn’t ready. I slumped into a nearby chair and for something to do had a long mac. The caffeine was useful to.

About half an hour later I finally got the nod. I did all my ablutions, including a lukewarm shower, changed into some fresh clothes, then arranged a massage. I felt sore, and though I was still tired sleep was neither a pressing need or a good idea. A massage, however, was just the ticket.

The massage was sensational. It’s a strange truism that I have less massages now that I own a massage shop than I did before when I didn’t. I’ve always enjoyed the excuse to slip away mentally while therapeutic hands treat my body. It’s been good for me in keeping a dodgy lower back in reasonable nick.

Today’s massage was  the typical 5 star hotel production – in house spa, several cups of tea, a chilled towel, a choice of oils with different qualities, gracious staff and elegant surroundings.

I opted for a 90 minute Balinese massage – my favourite massage style. as you do in places like this I was required to slip into a brief and flimsy looking pair of paper briefs. I felt ridiculous, but at least I was reassured to find they were XL.

The massage passed like that. My masseuse, Lysa, from Kota Kinabulu, was friendly and very talented. She kneaded and stroked my tired muscles. I felt myself melt into the massage table, not wanting it to end. But it end it must.

Since I’ve been pottering around my room sorting little bits and pieces out. Tonight I might pop across to the Grand Hyatt for the happy hour. Later I might wander down to Bukit Bintang. Naturally I look pretty ordinary – I love Asia, but it fucks with my hair every time I step off the plane. Dealing with it.

Tomorrow I check into another hotel, in readiness for the wedding on Saturday. Today is my day, and perhaps part of tomorrow. Then it’s all my friends.


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