So where've you been? 5 Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

I love cities, and KL is no different. I'm here twice, and lucky enough to be here at both Deepavali and Hari Raya - 'christmastide' for two big big religions, essentially; the people watching is rich here.

My first impression, though, was formed by toilets.

It's not like I've never used a squat toilet before. It's not like I've never had to do without paper before.

I guess it's just that some things are hardwired into your range of cultural response. The instinct of revulsion always struck me as one of the strongest in humans, and one of the easiest to manipulate. No accident that nazi propagandists utilised associations with shit to create a cultural image of Juden that would excite a physical response.

KL is a strongly pious muslim city, and that line reminds me of some odd details; the T shirt bearing a 'Matrix' pattern that professed Israel not real. I put it in the same mental comedy category as the 'Engrish' t-shirts worn by devout teenagers that say 'fuck off motherfucking wanker' beneath a neatly pressed hijab, of which I've now counted five so shockingly worded you'd shield your granny's eyes. Though I know it's not.
Though I do know it's not the same at all.

So anything to do with toilets is dodgy cultural ground anyway. And tourists spend a lot of time in the toilet. (Seriously, I nearly did a post from Borneo announcing the arrival of a solid poo)

So some things just pull at your lower gut in a way that's not sensible.

The first time I ate fish and chilli porridge. The durian cakes that tasted of creamy garlic n butterscotch filling. The hotel where you had to stand in the men's urinal to shower. The fourteen person dorms. All gut wrenching. At first. Then you shrug and move on.

But when I realised with a shock that the squat toilets weren't the whole story. The no paper wasn't the whole story. The not eating with your left hand because it's reserved for Other Purposes wasn't the whole story.

The reason there's a hosepipe in the cubicle.

What the bucket and cup of stale water are for.

That sort of thing. Temporarily disturbing, followed by rationalisation: "but that's just plain sensible in the tropics."

But: glancing down in the Petronas Towers cubicle, in the ritzy designer western seat-toilets, Iaccidentally saw the next cubicle and occupant clearly reflected in the pools of hosepipe effluent. But.

Realised why the toilets in Malaysia look so muddy. Why the plastic seat has footprints.

Penny.
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plink

These people are crazy, I tell you.

toctoctoc