KL has some interesting buildings other than the usual suspects that pop up on all postcards, i.e. The Twin Towers and the KL Tower. They are remarkable and iconic buildings but I think as a consequence of the fame of these two structures other remarkable buildings are forgotten. I think the Kompleks Dayabumi is a really cool buidling. I think it was designed by Hijjaz Kasturi but I am uncertain, can anyone confirm this?

I also had a quick wander around The Central Market and Petaling Street. I think my favourite photo is the one of the mum and grandma giving the little kid a bath on one of the side streets just off Petaling Street. It's nice that despite all the hype surrounding Petaling Street the people living in the area are just getting on with their lives. I also like the nonchalant look on the face of the Mat Kutu who is sitting around looking after the snake. You could take a photo with the snake for only RM 16..errm no thanks. There is also a really disturbing portrait of Rosmah. I ran into someone I met at a party last year by this portrait and he told me to google 'Rosmah Karaoke' because apparently there is a really scary video of her serenading Najib. Altogether now...EWWWWWWWWW

I am actually in Sri Lanka at the moment, having a jolly old time. I will be internetless for the next 5 days or so because I'll be in Kandy and then Negombo. Don't miss me too much!

For an alleged Islamic state, Malaysia sure loves the trappings of Christmas. As I Christian I find what Christmas has become pretty repulsive. As Europe in particular begins to acknowledge that it is now a post Christendom society Christmas has become what it probably started of as, a cultural celebration. Christmas is meant to have it's origins in the pagan Winter Solstice Festival. Fine, like all religions Christianity has definitely drawn from the cultures of it's initial followers hence Jesus allegedly being born on 25 December (my mum is convinced that the researchers on the History Channel are correct and he was born in April!). In any case I am not overly concerned about when Jesus was born, it's all so irrelevant when you consider that he was actually born and the reasons why he was born. I have no intention of turning this post in to some evangelistic rant but I will say this, Christmas is not about the bright lights, Christmas trees, Santa (Ugh! He just comes across as a dirty old man as far as I am concerned, although I can see why a man who brings presents might appeal to children), mince pies, mulled wine or whatever the tradition is in your culture. Christmas should be about the birth of Jesus Christ. So really if you don't believe that Jesus was the son of God and he died to save you, please go and find another thing to celebrate. It's like the atheists in England writing an alternative Christmas book, if you don't count yourself a Christian then why bother with Christmas?? Why even call it Christmas?

On another note, I was unnecessarily mean to my sister yesterday. Being Tamil we're not good at apologising face to face so I am hereby making a public apology. I am sorry, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed and went nuts. Maybe it was PMS? I don't know, there was no excuse and I am sorry.

Lunch

Papa & Amma with the Hugging Granny

When I was little I remember that we spent alot of our school holidays visiting relatives. If we ever got beyond Seremban it was usually to visit some auntie or uncle who lived in the big bad city or sometimes we even ventured as far as Johor Bahru. Although there was once when we went to Penang with a whole bunch of people from the Seremban Catholic Church for the St Anne's Feast. In true Malaysian fashion there was a Chinese bus and an Indian bus, I wonder which bus my Chindian friends would have got on? My Monday was a bit like the old days of visiting relatives as my folks and my auntie (herewith known as Mami, Tamil for Auntie for the ignorant)drove to the big bad city, where I was anyway, with the sole purpose of seeing how many homes of relatives we could get to. Thankfully we had Auntie Vijaya along who knew where all the homes were and arranged timings and transportation. I felt about 12 again because I was once again Chinappu's daughter instead of just being Devina. We met with Papa's 93 year old auntie whom I hope to be like if I ever reach the ripe old age of 93. She was adorable and apparently has a reputation for hugging and kissing anyone that she hears is a relative. Needless to say I got many hugs and kisses in view of being the youngest person in the room.

As for the food we ate on the day, I was prohibited by Papa from taking any more photos of food as he said that only mat sallehs do that and I apparently by doing this I am demonstrating coconut qualities. I think it's all most unfair. So sorry chaps I only a photo of my lunch and wasn't allowed to document the amazing Thai food we had for dinner. It was truly amazing and I hope to return there soon for more Thai goodness.

The Good
Chic Nail Spa


The Bad
House + Co

KL is good and bad. I think I like it more now that I don't live there anymore. I always describe KL as the city that drained my soul, four years was plenty and when the time came I was happy to get out. Alot of KL is about image and style and I don't mind a bit of that when I am on holiday but as a lifestyle choice I don't think I could manage it long term. I had what I would describe as a proper KL weekend which involved getting my nails done, sitting around cafes drinking coffee, going from one shopping mall to the next because of the heat (go to BSC lah got air con) and eating out. So I am going to write about two KL weekend experiences, one that is the epitome of all that is good and one that is the epitome of all that is bad.

So lets start with the good. The last time I was in KL I got my nails done at the OPI Salon in Bangsar Village and thought it to be a positive experience. I decided that I would go back there but unfortunately they were fully booked which is when I chanced upon the Chic Nail Spa. The place is delightful and terribly OTT which I loved. The staff were lovely, friendly and chatty Burmese ladies (another hallmark of an increasingly multi-cultural Malaysia). As I complimented the decor they said that it was all designed by their boss. I was curious about said boss but I didn't ask who she was. Right at the end of my mani-pedi a rather glamorous Chinese woman comes in and I thought I knew her from somewhere. She plonks herself down by my feet and says she's going to take over the painting of my toe nails. Turns out she's the owner and she's only like a famous Malaysian model. She was lovely and down to earth, super friendly etc. Are you listening Karan Johar?

Now for the bad and we were partly to blame for this. Rather foolishly we decided to have dinner on a Saturday night without making a prior booking at any restaurant. Esther suggested a place called WIP which is in Bangsar Shopping Centre as she had been there before and the food was meant to be excellent. So we rock up without a reservation and were told that it was unlikely we would be seated anytime soon. We had a wander around the mall and ended up at place called House + Co which sells furniture but also moonlights as a restaurant. The key word here is moonlight because frankly I haven't been to such a badly run restaurant in a while. The service was dismal, the staff seemed to think they were doing us a favour. There were 8 of us at dinner on Saturday night and every single one of us is a foodie so having to eat a abysmal meal was most upsetting for all of us. They are had run out of most things, why have kueh teow sup on the menu if you're going run out of broth or a chocolate milkshake if you're going to run out of chocolate ice cream. It was Saturday night, isn't that when you'd expect the most number of customers???? As for the food that came, it was actually disgusting and I couldn't even finish my portion (which for those of you who know me well, it's saying something!) and we all needed to keep adding salt to our meals. The best part of it all was that the salt grinder wasn't even working properly so even that was an effort. So long story short please don't eat here. It may have been a one off but even as a one off it was unacceptable.

I promised to write about the events of Friday night as they were at best surreal. Papa convinced us to attend the PD Residents Association Dinner as a sort of 'lets do something together as a family' event. Shivani and I should have known better really since we have been to similar type events before and they have almost always been disasters. The dinner on Friday night was certainly in the top five of disaster events. It was a combination of corrupt politicians, butt licking 'pillars of society' who sang praises of the corrupt politicans, the flirtatious uncovered Malay lady in ill fitting national costume, the girl from KL performer who thought she was too 'modern' for the country bumpkins of PD, the Elvis impersonator and the drunk public school educated memsahib. All huddled together around tables of ten in the sweltering heat of a semi air-condition dinner hall decorated with gaudy Chinese lanterns and balloons. I nearly forgot to mention 'How Deep is Your Love' being played on loop on the karaoke machine as a form of entertainment for guests who arrived early because in true Malaysian fashion people didn't arrive until an hour past the advertised start time. Various residents then took turns to display their talents on the karaoke machine and in an attempt to woo the corrupt politicians further all the performances took the tone of 1 Malaysia, each race represented in the most stereotypical fashion possible but with the lovely touch of an Indian man singing a song in Chinese. I wonder how long this 1 Malaysia nonsense will last? The photo of Shivani and I looking happy was taken before all the madness began.

The events of yesterday evening deserve two posts. My initial plan was to just write about the food as I knew it would be an 8 course Chinese dinner but the activities that took place were too good not to report about. However I am in a bit a rush this morning as I need to pack for my weekend in the big city so it's just going to be pictures of the food for now. Even then I only managed to get pictures of 6 courses as we left when they were serving the penultimate course as it all got a bit too much.

Theroux on Tamils:

'Tamils seem to talk constantly. Pleasure for a Tamil is discussing a large matter (life, truth, beauty, 'walues') over a large meal'. Tamils also think Delhi is barbarous'

I wonder if Theroux was a fly on the wall at various family 'functions' that I have been to in my lifetime. Where uncles sit around eating mutton curry, drinking beer/whiskey whilst talking about virtues and Sai Baba. Aunties will also be eating said mutton curry, but no beer or whiskey and will definitely be fawning over the great Sai Baba. 'Walues' are very important, without good 'walues' we might lose everything, I mean our girls might end up marrying non-Tamils and where would that leave our society?! Sometimes I find the only way to get through these 'functions' IS to drink whiskey, which being a girl I have do covertly. Wine on the other hand is considered ladylike, we're allowed to sip wine politely in the corner. Still, there are some things about being Tamil that are fun, like being able to wear bright colours, trying to claim relationship to MIA (although girl clearly doesn't fit the mould of nice Tamil daughter), good mutton curry, sothi, close knit family that knows everything about you (admittedly this aspect has pluses and minuses)and uhhm if you can think of anything else just leave a comment.

On another note, how much CSI can one person watch before you are a certified junkie? I think all my family think I am slightly demented for watching as much CSI as I do but I love the stuff. I also watched two films last night, Get Shorty which I have meant to watch for ages and 13 Going on 30 which I have watched twice before but still loved it a third time :). John Travolta is excellent in Get Shorty, he was born to play Chilli Palmer type characters. We're going for an 8 course meal tonight, I'll definitely take photos and post them tomorrow.

It's raining in tropical paradise, AGAIN. The last two mornings have been met with some success in terms of achieving swimming goals as the sun has been out briefly. I have been doing laps at the Yacht Club pool which brings back childhood memories of learning how to swim, bullying Shivani and drinking Vitagen. It also reminds me of the days of being called a baby elephant by my swimming coach, talk about helping a 16 year old girl's self esteem.

What better to do on these cold (ahem!) and miserable days than to drink tea, eat biscuits and read Paul Theroux. I am reading The Great Railway Baazar which has me howling with laughter from time to time particularly with his descriptions of the various ethnic groups in India. Today I will share with you his description of Bengalis:

'Bengalis are the most alert people I had met in India. They were also irritable, talktative, dogmatic, arrogant, and humourless, holding forth with malicious skill on virtually every subject except the future or Calcutta'

I have yet to share this with my Bengali friends but I suspect they are likely to agree with most of it. Tomorrow or certainly the next time I post I will quote Theroux on Tamils. I thought Naipaul's disgust for Tamil food and the way we eat in An Area of Darkness most amusing. I have to agree the slurping of sambar, the balling up of the rice and the overall licking of fingers may seem rather disgusting to the uninitiated. I maintain that it's the only way to eat :)

I also took photos of myself modelling my two pairs of sunglass. I was being ironic, it's raining but why not model my sunnies. Isn't that what bloggers are supposed to do be all ironic and cool. I am also wearing a rather delightful cotton batik shirt that Papa bought in Sri Lanka a few years ago, it's too comfortable yah! Sexy no, but certainly perfect for this dull day in.

I keep getting thwarted by the rain. I have every good intention of going for a swim in the morning, I even wake up early enough to do this but it's been raining as if it's monsoon here in Port Dickson. Then the sun comes out in the afternoon by which time I have eaten far too much and just want to curl up like a python and snooze because this heat and humidity doesn't encourage much else. I am hopeful that the weather will change tomorrow and I will be able to hit the pool. Although I feel dreadfully embarresed by my friend Ken Onishi's Facebook status from this morning. He apparently went swimming at an outdoor pool in London this morning where is was 4 degrees celcius, don't worry it was a heated pool where the water temperature was 25 degrees celcius. It's the kind of crazy thing my flatmate Corinna would do too. So what's my excuse again? Oh yeah it's this warm tropical rain, terrible tragedy. Although if I am not careful I might end up looking like Rotunda, check photo above. That's my chubby Papa :)

My not so little little sister has definitely acquired an air of adultness (?) recently. It has always been a bit of a inside joke that Shivani was the perennial student. All this came to an end ofcourse last year when she completed her doctorate and moved back to Malaysia. She has since acquired a job (ahem!), a car and her very own flat. Sometimes people don't do anything for years and then suddenly they do it all. It is with great pride that write about this as she seems to have taken to good housekeeping and was having a rather long conversation with Esther and Jyanthi about 'magic mops'. Will wonders never cease?!

Last night we had a little do at her place which was a combination of a flat warming, birthday party and help Esther finish her wedding booze. The sign of a good party is surely when the security guard comes by to get you to turn the noise down. Last guests left around 3.30 am taking with them a whole duck much to my despair as I was hoping to eat some of that bird for my breakfast. Never mind, I have a month or so in Malaysia to eat as much duck as I want.

It's my last day in India, I leave for Malaysia tomorrow. As much as I love India it definitely feels like it's time to go. India always gets under my skin, I love it so much and yet I can't seem to deal with it beyond 3 weeks. I was talking with some people I met last night at the SOAS Alumni dinner in Delhi and I was unable to explain why 3 weeks is my cut off point. On the one hand India is culturally as close it's going to get for a Malaysian of Tamil descent living in London but on the other hand there is so much about India that feels rather alien. I gather that as usual I am not being particularly articulate, never been a strength so bear with me. Once I find a better way to articulate these issues of identity, culture etc I'll give it another go. In any case, long story short I am super excited about heading back to Malaysia tomorrow.

I think the alumni dinner in Delhi went really well. The photo of the group catches the essence of the evening, it's was chilled out and a lot of fun. It's one of my favourite things about this job, the really cool people I get to meet through the SOAS network. So although these alumni dinners are 'technically' work they never feel that way and I think it's great to be able to say that work doesn't feel like 'work'. A real blessing! See if you can spot me in the photo :)

Bukhara New Delhi
Veda New Delhi

You must think that all I write about is what I eat and where I eat. Well that's because if I wrote about the other stuff I do when I am on these trips it would be tremendously boring as the rest of it involves work. I could I suppose include interesting little snippets about the people I meet but that might get me in to trouble and we don't want that now.

In any case I am in Delhi, got here a couple of days ago after a fond farewell to the lovely Calcutta. I like Delhi alot despite the various arguments made by the Bombayites that it's much more interesting and safe in Bombay. I think the wide streets, the cooler weather, the relatively well maintained monuments and the less blingtastic shopping does it for me. It's got nothing on Calcutta and it's charm but it's nevertheless somewhere I prefer to Bombay and it's nouveau riche chaos.

The first night in Delhi we ate at an uber trendy restaurant called Veda, there were queues outside so it was a good job that Louisa had called to book before hand. The menu wasn't very complex since you had to choose between ordering a 7 course taster menu or ala carte. I decided that a 7 course taster menu sounded like the bees knees and it most certainly was. With the exception of the pudding which was a weird concontion of condensed milk and lychee (I know..ewwww), the other six courses were delightful. I particularly enjoyed the chicken stuffed with lamb and the grilled fish served with lemon rice. After Veda we went to a poolside bar called Aqua which reminded me of the Bed bar I went to a couple of years ago in Miami. The only difference was it was actually freezing in Delhi and so the whole experience of sitting by a pool nursing a mocktail with very bad music blaring out of the speakers wasn't particularly positive.

Last night I went out with Uncle Mike and his family. We went to the Bukhara restaurant which is a much coveted venue. I am never sure why as the food is best described as mediocre. I stayed at the ITC Maurya last year and so managed to get a table for myself and a couple of International Officers and someone was tricked in to ordering a naan that cost £20, I kid you not £20!! So this time around because none of us were staying at the ITC Maurya, getting a table was a bit troublesome. Nevertheless Mike got Kanika to pull some strings and we got a table. The food was good and I am not sure what the bill was but I am pretty certain it wasn't good value for money. I suppose it's just something you have to do when you're in Delhi, just like going to the Gymkhanna Club but I guess that's for tomorrow.

Eating has always been central to who I am and I think to some extent it irks my mother because it means I will never be skinny like she wants me to be. Oh well, you can't always get what you want. Amma will just have to get over it.

The reason I mention food is because last night I ate so much again I am now lying in bed (it's morning) contemplating whether I am actually allowed to eat anything ever again, well at least for the next two days. My friend Shiraaz who is quite an eater himself took Louisa and I out for dinner last night to a new Calcutta restaurant called Krazy Kebab. Before that we went Shiraaz's house/office where he keeps his art collection. Shiraaz owns over 3000 pieces of art and it's all amazing. I took a couple of shots at his place but was too caught up with the eating to remember to take photos.

I am in Calcutta which is my favourite Indian city, well of all the cities I have visited so far. On the way here I was reading an interview with Paul Theroux about his new book which is set in Calcutta. Theroux as always couldn't help but take a swipe at Naipaul. In any case this swipe is irrelevant because my point is, so many writers Indian and otherwise seem to have drawn inspiration or something like inspiration from this fabulous city. There is certainly something about it's decaying/crumbling quality and pace of life that makes me feel a sense of peace despite the obvious chaos. I had a lovely dinner with the Calcutta alumni last night, it was hosted by Nayantara at her home and I am still thinking of the food I consumed last night. I think it's probably the best meal I have had in India EVER, which is saying something. Photo of me and the alumni after the massive meal is deceptive, I am really struggling to pull my tummy in despite the wide smile.

So the sun returned to Mumbai yesterday much to my relief. If I am to fly thousands of miles away from London then I expect good weather! I spent of yesterday running around visiting schools and then went to a meeting in Nariman Point. Travelling from Bandra to South Bombay is a bit of a nightmare even with the new Worli Sea Link. The good news is I had a really nice evening at the Dome with my friend Sashi, now the proud father of baby Aleeshya! I managed to take some lovely photos of the sun setting on Mumbai. I also managed to get some nice shots of the palm trees at the hotel. Sachin Tendulkar is downstairs giving a press conference and I am in two minds about whether to go and get a stalkerish photo.

So there is a concern that a cyclone might hit Mumbai at some point today. I have spent most of the day trying to get to various meetings around this manic peninsular but the weather has got in the way. Lots and lots of rain, so I took some photos to calm my nerves. Some of these were taken in Bandra but mostly in Nariman Point and Cuffe Parade.

India loves red tape. I arrived in Mumbai this morning and was flabbergasted by the number of forms I had to fill out and the number of civil servants milling around doing not very much. There was a guy whose job it was to just pick up a small bit of paper from passengers exiting from the terminal. The swine flu screening was farcical because it involved me just giving a man a form promising that I don't have flu like symptoms. Surely some kind of thermal screening is necessary? South and East Asian attitudes to sickness/pandemics/endemics couldn't be more different. Bureaucracy at it's best/worst.
That's one extreme and the other being the impeccable service of the Taj staff. Service in India is almost overwhelmingly good when there is money being bandied about. Not my money obviously but I am fortunate enough to enjoy these privileges. I do feel fraudulent though when I am called Maam.

I had just over a week in London and now it's time for India. I have a mixed relationship with India, I do love it so but sometimes it drives me nuts. Lets focus on London though before I go on some kind of India rant. My friend Ken decided to make a commitment to Jesus and invited me along to be part of that special day. I was really pleased to be supporting Ken and it was also a great opportunity to visit St Paul's Cathedral. I took the photos with my BB so they aren't great, plus I got told off mid shot. St Paul's is apparently the second largest church in the world after St Peter's Basilica in Rome, can anyone confirm this? Wikipedia doesn't seem to know.