Day 30- A Heuristic Trap

Without the warm up of the past month, I think Kuala Lumpur would have been a cultural overload.

It made me think of boys who discuss their dream football teams, for which they can pick players from any club they like. Somebody had done the same with Kuala Lumpur- they had gone around Asia, picking and choosing different races, religions and cultures, and throwing them together to create thier fantasy city.

I couldn't help but stare at the faces around me, everybody was so different! The air was filled with a tangle of Malay and English and Chinese and Hindi, and the call to prayers, from the mosques that rubbed shoulders with churches and temples. Such a global city would hardly be complete without the symbols of globalisation, and indeed it was gleaming shopping centres that dominated the streets, towering skyscrapers that dominated the heavens.

Hoping to feel less like an ant, and share the view of these giants that surrounded me, I visited the the tallest twin towers in the world. The tour was ticketed and controlled with military precision (quite opposite to Angkor Watt) and there was barely time to take a photo, before being ushered back into a high speed elevator, and presented with a fridge magnet with your own face printed on it. Sorry, I declined to buy the fridge magnet, but I did manage a few photos from floor 87.

Now for the story of how it took three buses to get me to Singapore. 

All of the buses I had taken, so far, had stopped from time to time for a break. Everybody would hop out, get some food, and after twenty minutes or so we would continue on our way. All of the buses I had taken, so far, had stopped at the national border, and waited for the passengers to go through immigration.

Now the brain, when accustomed to routines like this, prefers to assume that the routines will be followed, rather than wasting energy figuring out what is going on every time. This tactic, however, doesn't take into account the fact that routines change very rapidly when you travel from one country to another.

So that is why, when my first bus stopped at a place both near the border, and with restaurants, and people started getting off, I got off too. The bus then drove away, and I quickly realised I had been left behind in a coach park with a severe lack of signs or timetables. Everybody hmmed and said something different when I asked how to get to Singapore. The dead body on a bench wasn't really part of the story, but it probably added to the sense of confusion.

It was dark by the time I finally found another bus going to Singapore. When we stopped at the actual Malay border, everybody grabbed their bags and raced to immigration. I followed suit, got my stamp, then found myself with a choice. Coach platform A or B? "Why don't they tell you these things?" I thought crossly. I chose A, saw my bus at platform B, ran across the road and made it aboard. Alarmingly, the coach started moving the second I sat down. 

It wasn't over yet though. At the border into Singapore, there was a queue for international passports. I knew already that I was going to be left behind. To eradicate all doubt, I forgot to fill in an entry card, and the border officer made sure to have a lengthy phone conversation when I arrived at the desk. I could only laugh this time, as I set about looking for bus number three.

After last night's experience, I kept the iPad safely packed in my bag. It worked. The first two Singaporeans I met told me which bus to get, which train to get after that, which stop to get off at to find a hostel... and they were lovely people too.