Hi all,

It’s bloody hot here, with temps in the mid 30s and no refreshing thunderstorm at 4pm…the ones that are so welcome at other times of the year, provided that you have an umbrella, aren’t in a hurry or don’t mind getting drenched.

The Airbnb is an apartment in a huge tower that also holds a swish hotel. It’s very comfortable and spacious, but could do with some modernising here and there. Very quiet and clean, and the only view is into the apartments in the adjacent towers. I’m on the 22nd floor and still have to crane the neck to see the sky.

The place is a little out of the way, but I’ve got used to the different rail services, one of which is nearby, but whose timetable is designed for komuters, so service outside rush hours is a bit sparse. The monorail which is a better source of travel for the places I want to go, is a 15 min walk away, but once you know the route the time passes quicklier.

I’ve also become used to using the Grabcar system, like Uber but much cheaper. You just dial up on the app and watch the little car move on the map until it gets there. Youse who use Uber will not need that little bit of mansplaining I expect.

I’ve had a few massages from my regular guy Mikey from Myanmar, and a return to a BlindMassage place near the Central (or sentral as they more rationally spell it) Station. There are quite a few of these places in that area, and the guys who work there are blind, and are trained in an Academy specifically established to provide such skills…a bit like piano tuning courses for blind people, in the past anyway, in Australia.

My guy was a shortish, but muscular, ChineseMalay named Pakman…or maybe I’ve morphed his name into something else! He is partially sighted, from birth, and seemed to have a sixth sense, or would that be 5 1/2 th sense in his case, to find the smallest tense muscle and deal with it. There were times when I thought a medieval torture rack might have been preferable, but when it was all over the bod felt great. He did say that I would be aching a bit the next day…little did I know he was predicting the truth but for another reason. See below.

I find that I don’t eat much here…breakfast at a basic joint nearby…

…where I have the usual egg roti…

…and orange juice and very sweet coffee. You can see in this pic the layer of condensed milk that has yet to be stirred in…

My keto diet has gone out the window.

The blokes at the place now give a smile and a chat, so that makes it fine. I got talking to the owner one day…he a big Indian with long curly grey hair. The conversation was a bit one way but pleasant, and he donated me the breakfast.

The Estana Curry House that I used to go to has closed, as have the street of fake-watch, runners and sunglasses, along which I used to find blokes to talk with in the past. The epidemic has caused a lot of casualties.

For dinner at night I’ve been to an Indian joint next door to the breakfast place. After two visits the waiters were all on for a chat…and an extra service as well…see below.

Here’s one meal…

The salad was carrots, olives and cucumber, as well as chilli. it turned out to be around $10.

I went to the zoo, choosing to go early, but forgetting the hat, so after 2 hours of seeing obsessive big cats and monkeys in sad cages, I called it a day.

Some of the areas were ok, and the lush tropical jungle for us to walk in softened the awfulness of such places.

I took a side trip to Georgetown on the island of Penang. It took a fast train journey of 4+hours, cruising at 140+km/jam (jam is the local word for hour) through jungle and small villages.

I didn’t get really thrilled by Georgetown, it was massively hot, and most people and shops seemed to be a good deal smarter than I, and stayed closed up.

I did investigate a splendid Chinese Temple…

…whose front lawn was like a billiard table…

There were some interesting streets…

So what about all these continuity clues that I’ve been dropping?…….

On Wednesday evening I was cruising along the street heading toward the Indian place for dinner, when, in the shadows and encountering a bit of seriously degraded footpath, I tripped and hurtled down the slope and headbutted the wall at the bottom. Shoot…I thought I had had it. Passers-by stopped and helped me up, and a waiter from the restaurant came out with a bottle of dettol and some serviettes…I was a client of the place after all. He dabbed away at the wounds. A very delightful woman, an international student from Djibouti, took charge of getting me to a clinic despite my protestations that it was only a flesh wound. She was super charming, and bundled me into a Grabcar which took me to the clinic.

Soon I saw the doctor who washed the blood off, disinfected, and ultimately sewed up the gash in the forehead. He was a chubby guy, and he braced his belly against my shoulder as he sewed away. It was strangely comforting to have a warm mass to lean into in my hour of need. I hadn’t realised that I had blood all down my face, so I must have been a sight when I arrived.

Here I am when most of the cleaning was done…

Here are the wounds after…

Really just a flesh wound.

The next day the wounds were ok, but the body was very sore. Another massage might ease that out…any excuse will do.

At the doctor’s I realised that one of my hearing aids had come off, probably in the midst of the drama..I went back to look the next day, but not there. It was a bit infra dig searching around the gutter; even though I’m often in for a dig and anything’s better than only hearing at half pace. Ah well, maybe the government will give me new ones even though I’m not due for replacements until next year.

Tomorrow I am going for another blind guy massage, and if I can still walk, to the clinic where the dressing will be taken off and replaced. Next week the stitches come out.

And on Saturday I’m flying to Borneo where I’m staying with my favourite family there…Andi and Camelia and the three little sprogs that I haven’t seen for 3 years.

That’s about it for now.

Take care

T