It has to be stated: I feel like I am truly living.  I have been traveling for three solid months now.  I am in the Kuala Lumpur International Airport on my way to New Zealand.  I plan to spend about a month there at which point I will travel to Australia for another month or so.  I'll then head to Indonesia at the beginning of the dry season.  I love the planning element of this experience.  Yes, there is the freedom of being able to select my next destination.  There is also the excitement of discovering the different ways to get around a specific country.  Of course, upon arrival, there is the thrill of exploring the country on foot, peaking your way into the alleys and ducking your head into stores and restaurants to look at the menu.  Especially during the early days of a new country, you don't want to jump into the first place you see to eat.  You want to do your research, get a sense of the prices and then maybe take a leap. 

Then there are of course, the demon places. 

These are the places that as you walk by on the street, you do an internal eye-roll and decide you would never step foot in there.  I have become very aware of this sentiment in the last three months.  I've also made great progress in breaking it down and forgiving myself.  In countries like Mexico and Malaysia or specifically cities like Mexico City and Kuala Lumpur, there can be such stark contrasts between structures that are right next to each other.  I've also given myself the opportunity to spend a lot of time in these countries.  In the past, maybe I would have a few days in a city an walk by a place that I ex-nayed and not think twice about it.  I now have the opportunity to walk by these eye-roll joints over-and-over again and second guess myself.

What makes me not want to go into a store?  I think it's all a byproduct of growing up in New York City.  You see, in New York, most restaurants and stores have to appear clean regardless of if they are actually clean or not.  Being a Myers-Briggs ESTJ, I am quite comfortable with judging places based on how they look.  I go with my gut, my intuition, place my label on a place and move on!  However, the rest of the world does not really operate this way.   Thinking a place has to look clean to be worthy of your presence is a very US-Canadian-European viewpoint.  I'll share with you how this realization came to be.

My co-working space in Kuala Lumpur was in the Bukit Bintang district.  This historical shopping district is gradually being replaced by megamalls and skyscrapers.  In typical KL style, you have a tiny shop next to a giant skyscraper.  It can be intimidating to look at.  The absolutely phenomenal masterpiece of shopping architecture is situated there.  The Pavilion KL is a marvel of natural light, high ceilings, human gathering space, food, multiculturalism and commerce.  Once you walk by the Pavilion plaza and enter the enormous light-filled atrium, there's no turning back.  You are sucked in.  There is now a new standard for your shopping experience from here to eternity.

Down the block from the Pavilion, in a building that looks a bit older from the outside, is another mall named Lot 10.  Lot 10 is a corner property with an facade that is swathed in very green paneling.  It does not match anything around it.  It stands out in a sort of "architectural mistake" sort of way.  Walking by it almost everyday for two weeks, I thought, "Ugh, gross.  I'm never going in there."  To top it off, there is some sort of small side entrance with scaffolding and two escalators leading into a basement with signs that point to it saying "Lot 10 Hutong".   The passage looked dark and there were signs in Chinese.  My visual sense memory brought me to the rotten fish smell of Canal Street in Manhattan and the dark alleyways of shops selling counterfeit purses (that I understand no longer exist).  Basically, I saw the entry way and I thought, "Ew, smelly-looking."

Look at what I just wrote there.  "Smelly-looking".  I'm conflating two senses.  Living in New York City for 35 years has given me the superhuman power to determine if something is smelly merely by looking at it.   I write this all sarcastically.  Who the fuck am I to decide that something looks smelly?  If it doesn't actually have a smell emanating from it, maybe I can move past this?

I think when I decide that I do not need to go into a particular building, in this case it's a building that looks like there might be something interesting inside, I am giving into some sort of deep fear.  Sadly, this is about fear.  I'm scared that if I go inside and I am right and it sucks and smells, I will have to make a quick exit.  Other people will see me, the white guy tourist, making a quick run for it.  Just another example of a gringo who cannot handle an environment that isn't the United States.  I'll feel stupid.  I'll beat myself up a little for thinking I can just go wherever I want.  I'll take it to the next level and even think, "Everything was in Chinese, what made me think I can just go in there?  It wasn't meant for me."  (Maybe this is another remnant of my negative experience in Taipei, where I experienced the truth of what is like when people are not really welcoming).

So I'm in fear of feeling stupid and I am also working to avoid beating myself up.  Glad we covered that.  Well, guess what?  In the case of Lot 10 Hutong, I was wrong as fuck.

You see, I became aware of the amazing noodles, rice and pork dishes in Kuala Lumpur by invoking my limited knowledge of Chinese.  When I was the President of HBO OUT, the LGBT employee network group for HBO employees, I set up some event at a hotel in Times Square.  The caterer told us repeatedly that we had to order the "char siew" and that he would give us an order on the house just because it's so good.  That was in 2008, maybe.  Since then, I haven't heard the phrase used at all.  Kids, it's all over Malaysia.  (I'll have to write a post about my thoughts of the similarities of New York City Chinese food and Malaysian Chinese food).   So I'm seeing Char Siew Rice all over menus in Malaysia.  The first time I ordered it was a "holy shit" moment.  Char Siew is pork belly usually with some sort of maple-honey glaze.  In New York City Chinese takeout food menus, we would probably just call it roast pork (even though roast pork is actually a different dish, siew yuk). 

So after having it a few times in different cities in Malaysia, I returned to Kuala Lumpur for my final week here and I started Google-ing where to get the best char siew.  Guess what, kids?  It's inside Lot 10 Hutong.  Lot 10 Hutong is a hawker center.  It's supposedly one of the best in the country.  Oh, and a hutong is a food alley.  Some of the best meals I've had in Malaysia have since been inside Lot 10.  It's a bit of a hidden gem.  Even during the business day lunch hour, it wasn't that crowded.  Sunday afternoon at 4pm: also not crowded.  I tried food from 4 of the different stalls there on three occasions. 

It upsets me that I needed Google to get me to try out Lot 10 Hutong.  I suppose if I had a printed travel book that recommended it, I would have also given it a chance.  This is a huge lesson for me though: of course, don't judge a book by its cover.  More importantly: shut the fuck up.  I'm talking to my brain here.  The snap judgements about places has to stop.  (I'm totally okay with my judgements about people, I think it has served me well).  However, places: dude, do your research before you roll your eyes.

There is a lot on the Internet written about hawker centers.  Go use Google yourself and find out.  I think what makes hawker centers special is that they are both tucked away in the middle of dense urban environments and also on the side of the road in the suburbs.  The prices are still incredibly affordable at the hawker centers that are in the middle of the city.  $3-4 USD for a large plate of noodles and roast pork with a small soup.  Cities like New York could use a few more places like this. 

Another place where I would typically roll my eyes: the mall.  This is a result of growing up next to the bully-welcoming Staten Island Mall.  Certainly below the level of grandeur of Menlo Park in Edison, NJ, the Staten Island Mall only served to suck up whatever was left of a downtown on Staten Island.  It pulled all of the energy off the streets and consolidated it all into a long series of buildings with a corrugated metal roof across the street from the garbage dump.  I am learning to throw away this distaste for malls as well.

Even in the big "corporate" Pavilion KL mall, you can find hawker-style food options in the food court, with reasonable prices.  It's one of the big differences between East and West mall culture.  In Western malls, you will exclusively find big brands and market-rate prices.  In Eastern malls, you will find small businesses mixed within the the mall.  Space will be set aside for smaller vendors as in Pavilion KL's Tokyo Street or Food Court.  The prices will also be street-level, not a significant mall upcharge. 

In Asia, you can actually go to the mall to get great street food.  The malls are literally closer to the street too, the entry is on the sidewalk.  You don't have to walk through an entire parking lot to get there.  This is the case with the suburban malls as well.  They prefer parking garages.  They are integrated into the urban fabric.  They have skyscrapers on top of them.  Mixed use buildings with apartments and offices and direct access to the beautiful mall below.  The Pavilion KL has a pedestrian skybridge that connects you to public transport.  I would totally live there.

What I would like is to view places that trigger my internal eye roll and transform the anger and hatred into inspiration.  I think I'm on my way but boy, oh, boy did I really need to type all of this out.   Thanks for reading.