Tag: Guides

There’s nothing quite like the experience of your first morning out. Back on the road, away from home once again. On this occasion, mine was spent watching a dusky pink sunrise give a mauve glow to Kuala Lumpur through the lens of a steamy window.

The last time I passed through the Malaysian capital was almost 2 years prior and I was headed in the opposite direction, homeward bound and capping off my first 6 month exploration into the wonders of Southeast Asia. The months leading up to this adventure were somewhat tumultuous, containing the bitterly painful and unpleasant experience of losing my father to cancer and helping my brother to pack up, sell and generally take care of his leftover belongings. Arriving into a new country felt like a fresh start in many way. Albeit an emotional, challenging one.

The familiar smell of humid air and damp, earthy palm forests greeted us as we boarded an express train into the heart of the city.

I have frequently come to hear those who are merely passing through, complain that KL lacks heart or a reasonable selection of things to do. This is simply untrue. Kuala Lumpur requires a little more effort than some of the more popular Asian cities, but the rewards to be had are well worth the efforts.

We arrived into our high-rise hotel in the midst of a typical hot and humid Malaysian afternoon. After a series of trains and busses, we meandered through the hawker stalls, floated through the aroma of sweet fruits and sidestepped cat-calls of ‘masssssaassssee??’. Wedged in between the bustling Jalan Alor night market and the trendy Bukit Bintang restaurant district, perfectly positioned for an initial exploration through the heart of Kuala Lumpur.

Southeast Asia had been my father’s stomping ground, of sorts. His favourite place to get lost, experience something different and report home with incredulous tales for me and my brother. A place he so desperately wanted us to discover for ourselves one day. Throughout my last Asian journey my phone would regularly beep with new suggestions and places to visit.  Before his death, this is where he was planning to return. Here, now. To take a train trip up to Penang.

So when he died, it made sense to come in his place. This time, my brother would be joining me for his own first-time adventure into Asia.

Before his arrival, we had a few free days which were mostly spent meandering the streets demolishing myriads of street foods. Crispy tenderloins on a bed of rice steamed in broth, freshly crushed watermelon juice and handfuls of chicken skewers, roasted over a charcoal-fired hot plate awaited us at every turn. My foodie heaven was, for the moment, right in front of me every day.

Favourable timezone changes had me awake before dawn, and off on foot bright and early to find the Kuala Lumpur Bird Park. It came highly recommended, yet I was as skeptical now as I am with any fauna-focused parks in Asia. Visions of starving, neglected creatures always tend to  bob about in my imagination.

We passed by the glorious National Mosque and the fairytale-style central train station, passing by Jalan Sultan Hishamuddin and over the murky Klang River, complete with scavenging birds and endless swaths of drifting garbage. My suspicions were put to rest as we arrived at the spectacular bird park. As the world’s Largest Free-flight Walk-in Aviary, it featured 20.9 acres of lush jungles, clean lakes and happy birds of every kind – storks, flamingos and pelicans waded around and magnificent peacocks gorged on wedges of papaya.

It took the entire morning to explore the expanse of grounds, and each area was yet another pleasing surprise. You can now understand now, perhaps, why the educational sector of this fabulous bird park took me by such surprise. It’s as if one moment you are taking a pleasant stroll through the lands of Paradiso, suddenly to be confronted by Virgil himself. As you descend into what could be mistaken for Inferno, hoards of taxidermied creatures gaze at you from their perches. In this Dante-worthy wonderland the creatures are forever trapped in a land time forgot, as their feathers, skins and beaks fall off – piece by piece, leaving just the impoverished remains.

Otherwise, the bird park was a spectacular success.

One of the beauties of Malaysia – and in fact Asia in general – is the price of a good meal. Generally speaking, it costs more to gather the ingredients required, provided you are eating locally. I delight in this fact, and enjoy the experience of seeking out only the most local of local dishes. Naturally, many of our meals out included one of my favourite Malay dishes, the banana leaf.

Hailing from the large number of South Indians who migrated from Tamil, the Banana leaf (often called a ‘set meal’) is, in my opinion, the pinnacle of delicious Indian-Malay cuisine. One of the requirements in choosing the perfect banana leaf restaurant is the settings, it needs to be spartan. Generally a long, shared bench or a series of colourful plastic tables, bursting at the seams with locals.

Toward the back you’ll find a modest wash basin for rinsing off curry laden fingers at the end, as anyone familiar with Indian food  will tell you it’s designed to be eaten with the hands. So, as one simply does while in Malaysia, I occupied much of my time with a fist full of fragrant rice and a selection of vegetable curries served up unassumingly and without fanfare, on the leaf of a shiny green Banana palm.

Another of the other popular misconceptions of Kuala Lumpur is the urban jungle myth. That much like other capital cities, it is a large chunk of concrete and relentless corporate skyscrapers. Anybody who tells you this has clearly never discovered the forest eco park in Bukit Nanas.

Not only is this expanse of lush green one of Malaysia’s oldest permanent forest reserves, but it lies quite surprisingly directly in the center of Kuala Lumpur complete with metro station right outside the entrance. One you step inside, the city hustle melts away behind you and you slide into a tranquil stretch of tropical rainforest, complete with native birds and Langur monkeys.

The hillside leads up to the base of the infamous KL tower on its peak, and features swinging canopy walking bridges, campsites and delightful picnic spots. The best hidden destination for KL locals looking to escape the inner city for an hour (or a weekend), I’ve been surprised to learn just how few people even know of this secret city rainforest.

For the first few days, Malaysia was an adventure, an exploration and a respite all at once. A reminder of how exhilarating a life spent on the road can feel, a remembrance that life is not only precious and all too short, but it is a product of how to choose to experience it. The heady vibrancy of Asia is a beautiful wake up call to travel, and in the following days my brother would be joining as we take to the tracks to explore Southeast Asia by rail, in memory.

The bus lurched into Sofia amidst a storm that might rival armageddon. The first taste of Bulgaria, and hopefully not an omen of things to come.

After weaving in and out of the scorching heat of a Greek spring, we headed north through tiny villages. Worn stone cottages with trellises draped in vines dotted across the scenery. I was regaling my travelling companion with unusual and often hilarious Wikipedia facts about Bulgaria, a country we’d only very recently decide to venture into, and knew almost exactly nothing about. As we grew closer the skies grew darker, an ominous welcome to our destination.

Arriving into Sofia, Bulgaria

Daggers of lightning hit the ground and thunder rattled the buildings. We splashed through puddles from our bus to where we thought our hostel might be. It was hard to know for sure as Bulgaria uses the Cyrillic alphabet. Not that it would’ve made much difference, none of the buildings had street numbers anyhow. I had already come to regret abandoning my raincoat back in Northern Greece.

“Bulgaria, I reflected as I walked back to the hotel, isn’t a country; it’s a near-death experience” – Bill Bryson, neither here nor there

Sofia is a city of enormous history, dating back nearly 7000 years. It has been a part of many empires ranging from the Roman to the Ottoman. It was once destroyed by the Huns, and lay in ruins before being resurrected once again. The city has architecture and culture from all the many who’ve brushed up against it. The history is so rich here that you can find Stalinist Gothic public buildings next to 14th-century ruins. Remains dating to 6000- 5500 BC, sidle with Neo-Gothic architecture, Baroque Revival architecture, and even Russian churches. Sofia is home to St. Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, one of the largest Eastern Orthodox cathedrals in the world. Even the language is significant, with the early Cyrillic alphabet developed right here in the First Bulgarian Empire during the 9th century.

Aside from learning that we were living in an undesirable part of town, filled with abandoned buildings and 24-hour liquor stores, the first week spent in Sofia was a pleasant daydream. Days involved devouring fresh berries, exploring the open-air book market, and catching up on sleep. Walking away from three months of refugee camp work had left me weary, needing a space to reconcile everything that had happened. This was the perfect retreat.

Blossoms, Book Markets & Springtime Delights

In the right light, Sofia is gorgeous. Sun-drenched boulevards looking out to Mount Vitosha, and antique markets peddling old war medals and violins in front of grand basilicas. I was enamoured by the spring tulips and strawberry vendors. Pleased with the cheap markets laden with fish, meats, cheeses, and produce, and the few local people I met along the way were kind, friendly, and helpful.

Yet, Sofia itself never quite captivated me in the way I had hoped it might. The tourist information centre doubled as a small library, where the membership fee was to donate at least three books, had charmed me. As had Bulgaria’s penchant for an extraordinary number of fountains. But too many signs of a difficult past and a certain hostility of the local people left this capital city falling flat when mixed with my current state of mind.

My friend left Sofia after a week to pursue adventures in Thailand. Going with her was tempting, but I was pulled more to lay low in rural Eastern Europe and get back on top of my writing. I daydreamed of grassy hills, yoga and fresh cherries off the trees. A quiet spot to complete my book over the coming weeks. Dissolving into northern Bulgaria for a few months, coming up refreshed, revived. Emerging from my retreat speaking Bulgarian with that attractive Eastern European accent. So, I opted to stay on, try my hand at learning the language, and explore further this country that piqued my curiosities.

Heading North: Veliko Tarnovo

The scenic highlight of my time was Veliko Tarnovo, a contender for the most beautiful city in Bulgaria. Red-roofed houses teeter down the banks of a sloping river like picturesque tiles. Students from the local fine arts school loll about in the sunshine, producing oil impressions whilst everybody strolls around in an upbeat mood. Veliko Tarnovo could pass for one of those post-card perfect Italian towns you always see on ‘20 of the most beautiful places in Europe’ lists. Laden with picture perfect cobbled streets, stunning rivers, and local eateries to pass the day with shopska salad under the shade of overhanging grapevines.

Bulgarians culture mandates doing the opposite of whatever I have recently become accustomed to. Where Greeks use the term ‘nae’ to mean yes, now it means no. Most cultures I have become used to nod their heads up and down to agree, Bulgarians shake from left to right. I had lost track and continued to muddle my way oblivious to what anybody meant.

The Quiet Life in Rural Bulgaria

I settled into a daily routine with an English couple 45 minutes out of town. My days consisted of pulling weeds in the sun and painting the insides of a house during the rain. I’d wake up early and jog to the top of a nearby hill, taking in the sunrise and filling my lungs with fresh air. I was far away from sight nor sound of any other human being. In the evenings and weekends, I would chip away at my own manuscript, reliving the past three months of heartbreak in refugee camps.

This lifestyle suited me well for a limited time, and in some moments I imagined my return to Bulgaria. Daydreaming of buying a cheap farmhouse to renovate and live out my days here. But, I grew frustrated. Living in a remote village with a British couple left me no real exposure to Bulgarian people, culture, language or food. It soon became time, after two weeks, for me to move on and begin a search for the real Bulgaria.