Another trip, c'est fin

Taman Jaya LRT, sweating like crazy, towering over the school kids waiting to be picked up. In zooms Mrs R with a very pregnant RR in the passenger seat of their Proton (Malaysia's car of the masses). I was whisked off to Shah Alam for more courses of food than I could bear saying no to. The baby was engaged, but stubbornly staying put, so RR and I were left to sit under a ceiling fan and play back the seven years since we last saw each other at her wedding(s) which took place in Tamil Nadu, Colombo and KL and were now resulting in a paperwork intensive pregnancy. Husband and father to be, ADSW, flew out from Sri Lanka to take over driving duties and though he complained on occasion of 'death by mall' he kindly ferried us from one banana leaf joint to another, from cake at Alexis to cake at Nutmeg on command.

There was an 'only in Asia' car crash involving Roshnee's Dad – who's fine – and which we inexplicably witnessed, coincidentally travelling a car length behind and one lane to the left of the two colliding cars. As one rotated on a horizontal plane and the other flipped vertically, RR recognised the car. 'That's Papa' she said. Papa probably more confused on seeing us come to his aid than he was by the collision itself. Since, the high-octane gossip and over-active grapevine has had the tale told over and over and over.

Chinatown offered economy rice, various fried, a toast specialist and the puckered faces of toothless men drinking teh tarik. There was more sweating, bad sandals and other forgettable fashions that the humidity necessitates. Not to mention Garfield. In a city of mainly mangy cats, it's good to see Garfield lives on. Back in Melbourne I'm looking forward to winter, black jeans, the World Cup and MIFF. As for now, the travel, c'est FIN.

Coming home to this guy makes it all ok.