Changkat

An appeal for forgivenesses, Little India and out in Changkat

I feel compelled to begin this post with a shout out to to my newest follower, the mother of Jack Deacon who happened across this blog and was understandably less than ecstatic about my narration of his exploits. (see earlier post).

While i can't deny he was an absolute state and me and brad deserve a knighthood for getting him home, he was not alone in his crime and i thought i'd help him out with a bit of damage control. Thus, here is a list of other offences by members of our student group:

Being picked up by the police
An altercation with a cleaner, i'll leave it at that
Police bribery
Passing out in the middle of the road
Insulting the principal of the university

Everyone was pretty regretful the next morning and no real problems were caused, so alls well that ends well. Saying that jack was pretty much the ringleader of the entire night, the head honcho if you will.

Anyway, i'm trying to remember what happened over the next few days as this blog is still hideously behind in it's coverage. Long story short we had a lot of Malaysian culture classes which i've almost entirely forgotten, realised the insatiable appetite Malaysians have for malls and accidentally caused a diplomatic incident by missing a presentation and dance provided for us by the uni of Malaya which i feel a bit guilty about.

Later, what originally started as a quest to find a quaint and local restaurant soon turned into a complete shambles. With no idea of where to go we wandered aimlessly through the streets of KL, trying to avoid the huge gaps in the pavement that would swallow a man hole and leave you like a young welsh boy trapped down the local well. By the time i found out about the previously mentioned dance I was embracing my western heritage and was knee deep in a big mac and drooling like a wild boar.

Little India market, if you love angry birds
accessories this place is the shit.

Saturday we decided to hit up a bustling little market place in little India. Being very white and pre-conditioned by my mum to trust no one and suspect everyone I spent half the time staring out locals and foreigners alike, lest they try and smuggle me off into a taken-eque scenario. The place was really nice however, the locals friendly enough and we got a killer Indian for lunch.

This updates rambling along quite a lot but that night we went out again, met the some of the dregs of society in the form of some old Ex-pats, accidentally danced with some ladyboys and drunk something called bear beer, which i can only describe as a special blend of black coffee, Guinness and crushed foetus. It was not pleasant.