​I’ve spent the last couple of days walking around the central part of Kuala Lumpur (KL to the locals), and I’ve, for the most part, enjoyed it. Prices are remarkably inexpensive if I go outside the posh restaurants and coffee shops. So inexpensive, that my dinner the last two nights (Nasi goring, with chicken one night and egg the other) was, with a coke, cheaper than a single coffee I had earlier in the day. Coffee: 12.50 MR, Dinner: 11.50 MR. With the exchange rate hovering right around 4.75 MR (Malaysian Ringgit) to the dollar, well, dinner for $2.51 is a pretty good deal.  Heck, even the coffee for $2.73 is pretty decent.
 
The people are pretty friendly, English is relatively prevalent, and the driving scary. It’s definitely a sport to try to get across the streets. There are pedestrian overpasses, but I haven’t seen many people using them. I have, but I’m old and not familiar with the driving patterns, and, at least right now, don’t want to die. I managed to make my way to see the Petronas Towers, which, when built, were the tallest buildings in the world at over 1483 feet (491 m). They have since been overtaken (in 2004), but are still the tallest twin skyscrapers.
 
As it turned out, the night after I made my visit, I watched the movie “Entrapment” with Sean Connery and Catherine Zeta-Jones on Netflix. Aside from watching her move, the movie had another interesting point in that part of it was filmed here in KL, with the Petronas Towers figuring prominently. A lot of the skyline has changed significantly since the movie was made (released in 1999, meaning it was filmed in ’98-’99).
 
I’ll be here for at least to the end of the month, so I’ve got some time this week to do a little more exploring. And eating. Enjoy the pics.

Yesterday, I left Australia to go to a new country, one that required a visa. A visa that cost me $100 to acquire. No problema, I thought at the time, I’ll be there awhile, that $100 will amortize over the duration of my visit to a low three to five dollars per day. And given the cost of living there is really low, I’d be in the black again on my budget. “Black again,” you ask? Yeah, I’d been a little profligate in my spending while in Australia and had pushed my overall budget over the top by a smidge.
 
I’d booked my travel in two distinct hops, on two different carriers. It was the most economical. (As an aside, the first hop, on Batik Airlines from Perth to Kuala Lumpur was on a Boeing 737-Max, the jet with all the problems a few years ago. I’m happy to report it didn’t crash.) It was a redeye, we left Perth at 6:30 pm with an arrival at midnight in Malaysia. Flight was decent, even in economy class (I’m such a snob, these days!), because I had a window and nobody in the middle. On the downside, not even water was to be had without paying. 
 
After landing, I cruise through Immigration and Customs, and after some scurrying about, finding out my outward flight is in a different terminal, ten minutes away by shuttle bus, I get to where I need to be. I figured since my flight was scheduled for 0655 and it was around 0100, I’d find a quiet corner and get some zees. I figured conditions to be somewhere between Denver overnight (no flights, and only a few people roaming the concourses), and Venice overnight (nobody, and I mean nobody except the guy driving the floor-tile Zamboni, and the carabinieri hassling me for not having my mask over my nose (it was January 2022 – Omicron time).
 
I was wrong. The place was bustling. There were scheduled flights all night. Restaurants were open – even the frigging Starbucks. It was so crowded, I had a difficult time even finding a seat (I eventually did). While seated, I saw there was a self-serve kiosk. Since I wasn't going to get any sleep anyway, I shuffled over and printed my boarding pass and baggage tag. Yeah, I’ve been checking  my bag lately. They are really strict about carry on in this part of the world – for both quantity and weight. In Cairns, for instance, they weighed every carry on to ensure it didn’t exceed the 7 kg limit. My two bags are 9.1 & 6.5 kg, if you're curious. Since one bag is often included in the fare, or if the fare is super economy, and I have to pay a bit, I figure what the hell.
 
Around 0300, the stations open for checking bags for the airline. I dutifully queue behind the myriad of people who are taking massive amounts of luggage with them. From what I could tell, it appeared entire families were relocating via airplane. I eventually get to the front. I had the gentleman my passport and put the bag on the conveyor, complete with the tag already applied. This’ll be quick. He scans, my passport, checks the boarding pass, looks at my bag, and asks me for my visa. I pull it out of the Critical Carry bag, and hand it over.
 
He's looking. And looking, And looking. Finally, he looks and me and  says the passport numbers don’t match. Sure enough, the first three digits of my passport are 562, and on the visa application, I’d typed 552. Fat Finger Freddie strikes again. He says he can’t let me on the plane; I’ll have to get a new visa.
 
Swell. It takes a minimum of three days processing and $100 US to get one. I’m left holding the bag. The bag being stuck in the KL airport with a non-refundable airline ticket, a week-long hotel reservation who’s 24-hours prior to arrival refund expired just 6 hours previously, and scheduled tour in the new city for which I had no idea if it could be refunded, but I don't think so. Added up, the visa and lost bookings totaled about $500 in actual lost money, and a zombie multiplier of no sleep and food, caused this cowboy to question life choices. Like they say, it's always darkest before the dawn, and 0400 am is smack-dab in the middle of that timespan. Bleak city.
 
It took a bit, but I sucked it up Buttercup, and started looking at hotels in the city. I’ve got nowhere to go and nowhen to be there. Since I’m here, I may as well check out KL. So, within about twenty five minutes, I’d booked myself into a 4-star hotel in the city center for less than $50/night. It dawned on me, slowly to be sure, because fatigue and calorie deficit, that, damn, KL is very affordable! Now, I just needed to (a) get some cash because (b) thought I would take a cab to the hotel. The cash part was easy, you can’t walk 50 meters in an airport these days without seeing an ATM sign. I decided to delay the getting a cab part lie for a bit to let the sun come up. Who knows what kind of crabby cabby I’d get at 4:30 am, and y room wouldn’t be ready until mid-afternoon, anyway. Ergo, no hurry.
 
Around 8:00 am, as I wandered the vastness of just the second terminal at this gargantuan airport, I stumbled across the KLIA-Express ticket window. KLIA is an acronym for Kuala Lumpur International Airport, and Express meant TRAIN! I paid the whopping 55 Malaysian Ringgit (about $12) for the 35 minute ride and hopped aboard. Cab be damned: I had spied that the train was going to drop me about 1.5 miles from the hotel.
 
Now this is why I make sure I can carry all my luggage. I popped the Patagonia Black Hole with clothes on my back, and the Critical Carry backpack on my front, and legged it to the hotel in about 45 minutes. I didn’t get run over even once, though in my ignorance of how aggressive the driving is, and that they drive on the wrong side of the road, I did offer a few opportunities. Protip: It’s not a good idea to walk in a non-pedestrian-friendly city in the heat, and/or when one hasn’t slept.
 
I’m now in my hotel room. And I’ve located a good coffee shop, a Malaysian restaurant where I can get dinner for the price of an Americano at the coffee shop, Chinatown, and three groceries all within about a 15 minute walk. The hotel has both a gym and a pool, too. By my reckoning, I’ve managed to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, but in the process I did end up paying a stiff price for my lack of proofreading. So for all you ones of readers out there, don’t just be smart and learn from your mistakes, be wise and learn from mine.

​I haven’t done a lot on here as of late. I guess it could be that not much is happening. Or it’s because I’ve stopped noticing the small and interesting things that one sees when in a different culture. Or maybe it’s because I’ve lost the mojo to do so – much like the loss or motivation to run? Okay, that has a basis in physiology. I’ve got a pain that is exacerbated when I run, so I’m giving it a rest. Perhaps my body’s readiness and my motivation will return simultaneously.

Whatever the reasons, I’ve been here in a new-to-me city now for 5 days, and haven’t posted a damn thing. The weather is the coldest I’ve experienced since my last visit á Los Estados Unidos in March: highs only reaching the low 60s, cloudy, windy, and periods of rain here and there. Still in shorts, though. A couple of layers on top to keep my ugly-skinny torso warm and a raincoat, and I’m still wandering 12-15K each day.

A couple of things did cross my mind while I’ve been wandering (mostly aimlessly) here though. Here and now is a good enough time and place to document.

1. Australia is expensive.
2. By law, they can’t serve a drink neat. They have to put at least one ice cube in it. At least that was what I was told in the bar where I bought my “celebratory” birthday whiskey last night. And as I paid for it, I recalled the first point above: $21 AUD for one ounce. Second most expensive shot I’ve ever bought. The most was $30 USD in a bar in Sausalito twenty years ago with my bride. That was a good time, even though I don’t even remember what whiskey it was, other than a single malt.
3. I don’t fit anywhere. Probably why I keep moving. Probably why I’ll fly solo from here on out, too.
4. Body entropy is accelerating. This sucks.
5. My kid rocked his first Half Ironman tri. He’s already a better athlete than I ever was. Smarter too.
6. My other kid is killing it in school and life. She’s doing personal training, going to school, and heading overseas for pretty much free over winter break. Nice.
7. Australian Rules Football is more fun to watch than the American derivative. Faster game.
8. Often a restaurant that doesn't sell beer or liquor allows BYO without any added fees. Nice.

So here are some images from my walks around in Perth. I’m leaving in a few days for points north again. As Jimmy Buffett, that Shakespearean-level songwriter, penned: I gotta go where it’s warm.

​After Katherine, I decided to head over to the west coast, and booked a bus to Broome. I’d done a minimal amount of research: beach ✅, food ✅, place to stay ✅, and decided sure, why not? I had to check out of the hotel at 10 am, and the bus didn’t leave Katherine until 8:10 pm. That’s a lot of time to kill in a town that small. Thankfully, the weather conspired to my benefit, and it was cloudy and relatively cool for most of the day. I spent a few hours on a bench under a tree, reading, a few more slooooowly savoring a chicken lunch at a Red Rooster (the spicy chicken was quite good, possibly negating my earlier comment about Aussies and spicy food) and reading, and the rest of the time at, yet another bench in the shade – you guessed it – reading. I’d thought to spend some time in an air conditioned bar, but, apparently they are closed on Sundays, at least along Katherine’s two-traffic-light main street, they are.

The bus ride was 20+ hours. Sounds daunting, but in actuality, wasn’t terrible. It definitely was better than a cut-rate economy flight for comfort. The seat wasn’t bad, though it didn’t recline as much as a train seat, and didn’t quite have the same legroom. But, I had no seatmate, and was able to sprawl across two. The bio breaks were a fairly daunting 6-hours apart though, tough on a old-man bladder.

Pulling into Broome, and my AirBnB host was there to meet me and give me a ride to the house. That was nice, and totally above and beyond. Hilary has been the best host so far in my journeying. Her dog Tex is a lovable idiot, and she is greatly accommodating and just a great person. She made me dinner! Her place is about 1.75 km from the shopping area, which isn’t far, and I get to walk past the airport, which is always fun.

I did a wander around the peninsula, painful hip notwithstanding, and had an enjoyable day doing so. I absorbed the history of the area’s pearl industry, its painful experiences in WWII, and marveled at the natural beauty of the beaches and rocks. And I ticked a few more bird-boxes on my life list. Last night, I got to see the “Staircase of the Moon” where the (in my case nearly) full moon rises over a low tide in the bay, creating a sharp reflection. My phone didn’t do it even a modicum of justice.

I’m here for a few more days, then… I’m not sure. I’ve a plan, but it’s pending a visa, and I’ve a Plan B if it doesn’t come through in time. Stay tuned, and in the meantime, enjoy the poor representatives of what I got to see with my very own failing eyes.

And not in a good way either. When I arrived, I had planned to take at least one day of touring and see the (at least Australia-wide) famous Katherine Gorge, viewing it by foot, canoe/kayak or, if I was feeling really flush, taking the evening dinner cruise, that I’d been told has the best light. (True. any photog will tell you that the best lighting is during the crepuscular hours.) Heck, in a fit of craziness, I’d even contemplated doing a heli-tour. I’ve never been in a helicopter, so this seemed to be a good way to get that ticked off the list.
 
Off I toddled to the visitor center, where all the fantastical adventures could be mine to have – for the right price. After perusing the various brochures on the wall, fiscal frugality emerged dominant, and I selected a four hour foot tour. It was the same price as ten minutes in a helicopter. I get to the counter, pay the fees, and asked where I catch the tour. I figured it can’t be far from my hotel, because, frankly, nothing is far in town from my hotel. The agent said she’d give me directions to where I’d meet them, and that it was only a 30-minute drive.
​
               “Um, what?”
               “Yeah, all tours start from there. It’s not hard to find.”
               “I don’t have a car. Is there a bus or anything that goes out there?”
               “Not really. There might be a taxi or something that’ll go, but that’ll be more than the tour, and you’ll have to get back as well. Or you can book a hotel room out there for the night.”

She added the last with a hopeful smile. Yeah. no.
 
Well. That’s something. I figured there was a strong possibility I could find a ride back with someone, but that’s not guaranteed, and I really didn’t want to get stranded out there, where a hotel room, if even available, is about $250/night.
 
Reluctantly, I said I couldn’t go, and needed a refund. At the POS, the refund went swimmingly. On my Apple Wallet, though, the refund is showing as a second charge. Two conversations with the people at the other end of…somewhere have netted me nothing but assurances that they see it as a credit and not a charge. I’ll probably be revisiting that conversation when all the charges for the month settle out.
 
And so I am here in a town that rolls up the sidewalks on a Friday night before 9:00 pm, and the two bars I’ve been in (there is a third) are cash-only. I mean this place is really not much more than a fueling opportunity and wide spot along the Stuart Highway where it intersects the Victoria Highway. If you’re driving between Adelaide and Darwin, or, if you’re in the mood, making a turn toward sunset and going to Broome, stopping to get fuel here is a good idea, I suppose. Stopping and staying? Not so much.
 
On the bright side, I did get a run in (aggroed my hip somehow, though) and flushed out a couple of wallabys, and in my hobbles around town afterward, I did get to knock out another 8 species of birds on my life list. Trying to photograph them is difficult regardless, without a long lens. Now I wish I’d brought my digital along. Also, it’s a challenge to take a decent photo when a dozen flies are crawling in my ears and up my nose. A beekeeper’s bonnet would be swell. And I’ve gotten to rather enjoy AFL. What a wild game.
 
I hop a bus this evening for Broome; since it doesn’t leave until late and I’m outta my room at 10 am, I’m going to be skipping from AC to AC around town. In situations like this, I’m happy my baggage is (relatively) easy to carry around.  Even so, I think my stay here was about one day too long.

First impressions of Katherine? She’s not the prettiest of towns, but then, she’s not got a lot to work with, being on the precarious edge between the tropical north and the desert south. She doesn’t quite have the lush growth of the north, but has the humidity, and doesn’t quite have the stark beauty of the desert of the south, but has the heat. Kind of a lose-lose in that particular situation.

When I stepped off the bus, it was 100F/38C and it felt humid to me. Not on the level of Darwin or Cairns, but enough to make the temperature significantly sticky. It looked to be a short walk to the hotel (Stuart Hotel/Motel), which has an address on the main drag. However, the entrance is around the corner, and down the block on Warburton Street. I don’t recall seeing that street name in any communications from the hotel after reserving. So what should have been a short, 5 minute walk in the heat of the day with backpack and frontpack, turned into a 30 minute back-and-forth, around the block sweat-odyssey. But, I did find the room, and it’s…nice. I have a kitchenette with microwave, coffee gear and a fridge. And plates/silverware.

I dropped my crap, er, stuff, and headed out to see what was happening. I heard loud music emanating from the place next door, so that was going to be me first stop. What I thought was a DJ and recorded music turned out to be an emcee and karaoke! Whomever was singing when I entered was killing it. The next few? Well, let’s just say the first one was the best – by far. I sidled up to the bar, and noticing Victoria Bitter in cans seemed to be what was everywhere, asked for one. $5 AUD isn’t bad compared to prices in Darwin, and it was nice and cold. Sat down and looked around.

It slowly dawned on me. I was the only white person in the place, other than some staff. Every patron was indigenous. I felt conspicuous and out of place. I figured to slam the beer and go. A man approached, stuck out his hand and said, “How are ya, mate?” I shook it, we smiled, and he kept on. My out of place feeling was abated, and I stayed for several more songs (all sung rather badly, to be honest), and when my beer ran out, so did I. I then made my way to a sports bar down the street (Kirby’s), and a similar situation played out, except it was $5 schooners of XXXX lager. I don’t know if there are no white people in Katherine – other than in Woolworth’s grocery – but they were not in the bars I visited at the time I did. One notable image in Kirby’s was the Von Miller Denver Broncos jersey. Ah, nostalgia!

Saw my first real road trains rumbling through town. The longest had four trailers, and calculating the axles and wheels, I came up with a total of 98 tires on that monster. Makes me wonder how many spares the driver has?

Tomorrow is an early morning run, then I think I’ll continue exploring the town, and book a tour to the gorge for Saturday. I leave on Sunday, and I think the time spent poking Katherine will be time well spent. When is something like that not?

​Or would it be Darwon? As I am leaving today, I’m guessing it should be the latter. I’ve walked this town from end to end, I think, putting in 20K/day. It’s not a bad place, I just think I’ve visited what interested me to the point that it’s time to bail out. On my last full day here, I took an eco-tour that included birdwatching and several waterfalls and swimmable holes in the nearby Litchfield National Park. It was a small tour, only 16 people, which made it better. Our tour guide, Emily, reminded me a lot of my niece Jordan – not a surprise, Jordy used to lead groups back in the day, back in the States.
 
When we all piled into the bus, as it happens, the singletons tend to gravitate together. In this case, there was only one in addition to me, Taiya. She was up top visiting her friend – traveling from Newcastle on the other side of the country. Lauren had to work (sucker!), so Taiya was doing the tour solo. She and I teamed up. It definitely made the tour better for me; I don’t know if it did the same for her. We did some extra trekking while the rest of the group lounged in the pools. So, we got to see cool bats, and she provided some bush knowledge to me. She’d grown up in Alice Springs (“As soon as I graduated, I left!”), so she’s reasonably familiar with the bush, though typically hotter and drier than Litchfield. Her path to her current occupation as a dental nurse is pretty amazing, as are her travel adventures, and love of reading. I sensed a kindred spirit, especially when swapping book recommendations while walking a trail, and, since I didn’t feel like going back to my AirBnB, I invited her and Lauren to join me for dinner at the local Mexican restaurant.
 
The food itself wasn’t particularly Mexican, and the picante margaritas packed significantly more heat than the food, but I had an exceptional time. I even broke my scooter cherry and rode one about halfway back to the AirBnB. Halfway, you ask? Yes, my stay is outside the service area, so I could only get so far. Still, it saved me about 2K of walking after a long day, and numerous adult beverages.
 
In my last days here, the sunsets have been amazing, my bird life list growing and my feet getting itchy to move forward. I’m not sure if I’m being pulled forward by the enticement of new people, places and experiences, or being pushed by the past. All I know is it’s time to move forward. I’m doing Katherine later today. I hope she doesn’t mind.

​I left the hostel dark and early on Saturday to take various transports across the country to the west side: Darwin. Uber to the airport, then a JetStar Airbus for about three hours. I think it’s interesting that I flew pretty much solely westward for that long, and, even though I changed time zones, it was only thirty minutes difference. It’s the first time I’ve encountered a time zone that lives on the half hour. This means the sun doesn’t rise until 7:00. Even though it’s late winter, it’s odd because I’m pretty low in the latitudes. I haven’t researched, and I probably won’t, why they (whoever they are) made that decision. I think they were on drugs at the time. Take a look at the map and you tell me.

The flight was uneventful, fairly crowded and cramped. It’s a discount airline, and to make ends meet (read: wring every penny for shareholders), the space between seats is even less than most USA airlines. Most in the USA are thirty-one inches between rows, as I understand. JetStar? Twenty-nine. Yikes. My knees hit, and I couldn’t extent them under the seat in front even if I wanted to. If I was even an inch or two taller, it would be torture for even an hour’s long flight.
 
Landed and Ubed to the AirBnB. It’s a nice apartment owned by a very chatty woman. She works at home, isn’t greatly ambulatory, and really, really likes to talk. I have a nice room with an en-suite. Clean comfortable and relatively quiet – in comparison to the hostel. The noise is from the traffic on the fairly major road thirteen floors below. All the windows are left open, because she has no AC. With open windows, and ceiling fans, it works. I would prefer to have a place to myself, but things here are pricey.
 
Did a long walk around the city after plopping my bags, and changing into walking gear. There is a lot of WWII history here though, which I found interesting as I walked. It’s quite hot and sweaty, but I understand the rain yesterday was something of an anomaly, as it’s currently the dry season, and the switch isn’t for several months. Hot and dry is preferable, but I sweat well, and there is beer available for rehydration. I was a bit surprised at the prices here, but I guess most items need to be brought in, as there is little in the way of agribusiness in the vicinity. Eggs are more than $5 USD dozen. Yikes. Restaurant prices match USA, and are maybe even more than in the tourist town of Cairns. That took me by surprise, to be sure. 

I've decided I’m probably going to be good with the four days I’ve booked here and call it done. It’s really a quiet place, with not a lot of people out and about. Even though I tend to drift through life – like a pelican soaring just above the rolling and crashing messiness of the waves, never quite touching – I do enjoy crowds from a distance. I like to watch. Take that as you will. There just isn't a vibe of "Hey Slang, why not hang?!" No vibe, no stay.

I may spend some time today arranging a tour/trip to a nearby national park before I move on, to get as much as I can out of my trip this direction. And I will definitely be checking out the botanical gardens and trying to capture more photos of birds.