Explore. Dream. Discover.

6pm ticked past last Thursday evening, and I went out to get my car contemplating a quick nap. But the interior of my car proved too hot to provide any restful means so I decided to just try and acquire GPS satellite signals for my phone which proved to be at least a 15-minute endeavour. But armed with my GPS’ guide expertise, it pointed me to non-busy streets despite it being a rush hour time of 7pm+, and I arrived in just about 30 minutes maybe, and found a free parking spot at an open air place.

For the briefest of 20 minutes as I arrived early at Changkat Bukit Bintang after work, I strolled through the streets taking in the sights and sounds as dusk began to sneak through the city. Decked with a (non-camera containing) backpack, I felt like a backpacker in my own country as a torrent of Westerners walked past or sat around in the various bars and fine dining restaurants decorating this infamous street. I quickly recognised the often talked about Frangipani place, and then the equally famous Finnegan’s Irish Pub—and it was only minutes before that I told PY that I couldn’t see any recognisable popular landmarks.

But it was a perfect, quaint spot not unlike the streets of Vientiane or HCMC or Hanoi or Khao San Road in Bangkok… in a way. There were boutique backpackers’ places, mamak and restaurants.. and just walking past these streets that smelled of familiarity revitalised the travelling spirit in me. It was almost like that one time in Queenstown, New Zealand when I was trekking through the Ben Lumond Track alone—it was utterly surreal.

And so as I waited for PY to arrive, I listened to Zee Avi from my iPod and let the music wash over me with my usual favourites like Poppy, The First of the Gang to Die, Honey Bee, and Bitter Heart.

And then we spent the next three hours at No Black Tie listening to a quartet of Malaysians (or rather, a trio of Malaysians and one Japanese) belting out unfamiliar Brazilian numbers, but they still soothed the creases of the night away. It was a RM20 well spent.

The three main singers – pictures courtesy from PY’s camera.

Me and PY.

The stage.

And then I spent a pleasant Saturday night at Meeples with PY, Jerm, Babi (wtf) and Jon’s bro Perry. It has been a long while.

PS: A cookie to whoever knows where the title of this post comes from, as vague as it may be.