Christmas Lights

I've decided to start a stamp album (talk about archaic hobbies!). But the Christmas cards have started to trickle in and I love the stamps and can't bear to throw them away. So I'll go out there on one of my famous quests (only thing is my fellow quester in search of archaic objects, Mary Zachariah, is not here to don the armour, take up her sword and follow me).

But that's now what I came here to talk about. (I just thought I'd put that in as I decided right this minute - talk about on the minute news, hahahahaha)

Anyways, I decided yesterday that I would go look at the lights of Bukit Bintang and see why everyone was making such a fuss about Pavilion.

To do so, I had to take one LRT, change at Sentral, and then one Monorail. Note to the uninitiated: I had never taken said Monorail before and didn't even know where the station was.

But I am nothing if not a reporter and an expert on being lost (there's a difference between being an expert in getting lost and an expert in being lost - an expert in being lost usually finds her way). So I asked around and was led in the right general direction and crossing the street in Brickfields, my engladdened eyes did behold the station. It said Sentral though if you asked me, I would have said Brickfields because it was so not in Sentral. Anyway, whatever floats your boat, station namers...

So I settled in, got seats in both the LRT and the Monorail which was a feat considering that two thirds of the population decided to do just what I did and land up on Bukit Bintang.

Ah, but the streets were crowded. I saw the latest version of the Mat Rocks and it was difficult not to stop, stare and take down notes like any good anthropologist (except that I'm not one and these people fascinate me because, let's face it, they're fascinating). There were tourists, there were Malaysians of all shapes and sizes. There were stern-looking policeman who kept telling us we couldn't cross the street (we crossed anyway).

The Starhill stretch was not very impressive - I mean same old, same old.

But oh my, Pavilion was everything they said it was and more.

This was what it looked like on the outside:



And for a closer look:



And this was what it looked like on the inside:



And another view:



It took my breath away. Anyways after wandering around Pavilion and trying out a beautiful red Love on Earth dress which did not fit (though the colour looked great on me), I was hungry.

Looking for something to eat I got waylaid by a young boy selling perfume who sprinkled my wrist liberally with Tresor in Love (it was lovely and if I didn't have a dressing table covered in perfume I would buy it) and told me where the nearest ATM machine was. (You go downstairs...)

Anyways I decided to try out the beef pepper rice at Pepper Lunch. Paid for my meal, went and sat down, and waited. And waited. And waited. They were running around short-staffed and people just kept pouring in and buying meals. The smells were enough to kill but I had my book, so it was not too bad.

This is what it looked like:



When the supervisor finally arrived with my meal he apologised profusely that I had waited so long, showed me how to mix it up, how to pour the sauces (sweet and salty) and asked me where I was from. Apparently, I looked like an Indian tourist. But I fear his powers of deduction were sadly wanting here.

Firstly, I didn't have the Indian accent. I have a very Malaysian one (believe me, I had to sit near two Indians on the monorail back with very strong accents, one telling the other that he had dumped his girlfriend of four years because she was bugging him to stop drinking and also because in all those four years, she never put out...all this at the top of his voice to someone sitting just next to him) Secondly, I was ordering the beef pepper rice. Thirdly and most significantly, I was alone. How many Indian girls from India would you see sitting in a corner by themselves reading a book and waiting for a meal? I mean even in Malaysia that's weird, but in India?

So I finished my excellent overpriced meal and took me off for the journey home which was a lot more crowded than the journey there. When I got back to the Monorail it was crowded. So crowded that it was hard to believe it was already nearing 11.

I mean to say what? Didn't these people have anything better to do? For that matter, didn't I?

So trying not to push and shove I got pushed and shoved inside where I bagged a seat near aforementioned Indians who were telling each other the most private things at the top of their voices. It takes all sorts.

When I finally got off at the Paramount LRT, it was dark and lonely and I walked all the way home remembering the beautiful dress that didn't fit. Jerry had texted earlier to say it was the Backyard party tonight but without a car, or a gang to go with (like those delectable Mat Rocks who looked and acted about 12 all over Bukit Bintang), I just didn't feel like it.

Arnold greeted me enthusiastically when I got home and made me feel so loved. Whenever one of us is about to go out (and he knows we are because we do suspicious things like bathe, change our grotty clothes and maybe, and this is the worst, put on makeup) he either head-butts our knees in an attempt to make us change direction, or flops on the floor and look at us out of heartbroken eyes - you'd be surprised the amount of emotion that little drama queen doggie can put into one look)

I realise of course that none of this could be of the slightest interest to all y'all, but I like recording these things, pictures and all, so I can come back and look at them, say a few months hence, and smile to myself. I wish I had recorded a lot more pictures along the way before this.

Never mind.

I always have the blog posts.