There are so many things in Malaysia right up there on a par with the western world. And then there are many others that are worlds apart. It both baffles and amuses me when I have the chance to observe some of the more evident clashes:
Toilets. A standard traveller's gripe and one I don't have too many issues with. But when out in a swanky nightclub or a brand new cinema complex, the last thing you expect when you push open the gleaming toilet doors is to be confronted by putrid bogs with broken bowls, doors that don't lock and no sinks.
Meals. You accept quite fast that the relaxed social meal - a favourite pasttime of mine - is not understood here. You eat out of necessity, with fork and spoon or with your hands, no one gets served at the same time and if you're finished or want seconds, you just get up. By far the most amusing evening meal I've had here was dinner in a swish city centre hotel with the top people from the company I volunteer with. The setting was like any semi-posh restaurant at home with both western and Malay food on the menu and knives and forks on the table. But I'm still in Malaysia. No one drinks wine, so only I was served a ridiculously expensive glass of shit, refrigerated red wine with ice in it. Everyone had ordered in advance so they wouldn't have to wait for the food and it was served in completely random order, none of it together. Most of my companions struggled with the knives, swiftly reverting to cutting up steak with spoons. Once chap didn't eat his salmon fillet because he doesn't trust fish with no bones in it. Another looked at his lamb shank and mashed potato in bemusement for a while before ordering some rice to make it make sense to him.
And of course, when I went to use the toilet...
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