Scissor City

Our bus from Melaka to Kuala Lumpur was MIA 15 minutes prior to departure, and instead of continuing to wait like the three dumb, backpacking foreigners that we were, my friend, Chiara, decided to get up and ask about the situation. It turned out that we were the only three passengers on our bus, and so they had transferred us to another bus (without mentioning this). As we exited the highway to get into KL, I noticed (an unusual feat given I often slip into a semi-comatose state on moving vehicles) that we were following signs to the airport. After the bus stopped at Kuala Lumpur International Airport, we (once again having to make the first approach) were told that the airport was the only stop, and the bus would not be driving into the city center, despite the fact that we had booked our ticket for just that.

So, our first entrance to the city was a bit jarring. From the airport we took the high speed airport shuttle bus to the Sentral station from where we walked another 10 minutes to get to the monorail, which we took to the Times Square exit, got lost in the maze of the mall, and then walked another 15 minutes to our hostel, which we discovered was actually nothing like the pictures. The Equator Hostel in Kuala Lumpur, though situated just a short walk away from the monorail stop, Imbi, and near the prominent Times Square area, was run-down and sad looking. The walls, once bright green and blue, were tainted brown with dirt, and the concrete floors did nothing to lighten the mood. The red carpet was worn and dirty, and the sheets were so thin that you could see the glint of the plastic mattress coating beneath. Thankfully we were only staying one night, so I was able to forgo the small, hook-less, dirty showers, but my brave friends decided to take turns holding a change of clothes for the other so as to wash off the aftermath of walking around in the stagnantly hot air of the city.

Actually, it was from the first monorail ride that I knew that Kuala Lumpur was not for me. The monorail, which is perfectly pleasant on the inside, winds through the city on a swerving track, and as it does so the entire car leans to one side, giving you the sensation that you are on a bad Disney ride. Though I did get used to the monorail after only a few trips, I do not think that the city would have grown on me. My impression is that Kuala Lumpur is a sadder city, lacking in the kind of joy that we had experienced in Singapore and Malaka. Part of this may be due to the fact that KL, as the city is known, is what my friend, Chiara, calls a "scissor city". That is to say, the city is split sharply between two classes--the rich and the poor. On the monorail this is clear as you see brown slums nestled in between shiny, glass buildings, and people walking around with either designer handbags or faded leather sandals.

However, the city was not without merit. The Petronas Towers, the tallest twin buildings in the world, were worth the visit. The two peaks of the Petronas Towers burned white, cutting through the rest of the skyline, which was full of less impressive skyscrapers that glowed dull yellow by comparison. As we approached the towers, the gleaming white gave way to detailed metal and light, revealing a stunning architectural feat that was mirrored both in the duplicity of the towers and in the reflection pond below.

KL was not for me, but do not write it off entirely. Certain cities ring with certain people, and Kuala Lumpur offers good food, interesting shopping, and exotic mesh of cultures in this simultaneously glamorous and rugged city that could intrigue and entertain many travelers. Though I personally did not feel the need to spend more time there, I am happy to have satisfied my curiosity about KL.