He was sitting about four rows behind me on the bus from the airport, but when we started moving, he got up and sat in an empty seat across the aisle from me. He stared a little too long so I gathered my bags a little closer. When the bus reached its final destination I followed him forward to ask the driver why, in fact, its final destination was not the train station as advertised. He, the passenger, overheard me and said it was quite nearby, then walked off. I wandered in the general direction he'd waved in until I saw him again. He'd stopped to talk to a shopkeeper; I heard "stesen tren" (which is in fact the street Malay for train station, and not at all me being rude about accents) then he beckoned to me to follow. Still a little wary, it being 9:15pm in a place I didn't know, I trailed him through the streets of Johor Bahru, past Chinese Buddhist cemeteries and Sikh temples and Hindi flower sellers and all the sights, sounds and smells available on a 15-minute walk through this big Southern Malaysian city until he pointed across a busy road and said "train station." Then he turned around and walked back the way we'd come. I stood for a moment just absorbing the sinking sense that comes with having misjudged somebody, then I walked over to the entrance. On the escalator, a man stepped too close. I smiled at him, he smiled back at me. Then he stepped closer and I clutched my bag. Inside the station, I felt him at my back, slowing down when I did, dodging the crowds as I did. I stopped and let him pass, looking up at the signs. Making a quick decision I turned right and as I reached another corner, sensed him at my back again. I stopped and turned, and there he was, right behind me. He smiled and said, "Excuse me, I'm terribly sorry, but are you looking for the Singapore train? Because I'm going to that platform so I can show you if you're lost." In those words.
He was a kind businessman on his way home, helping out the only, clearly lost, orang putih in the station.
My excuse for being such a suspicious foreigner (which is honestly not my normal state when travelling in Asia) is that I'm simply a little overwhelmed by 'civilisation' (and I use that term with great reservation!) There are just so many people and cars and bright, bright lights.
The train from Johor Bahru in the far south of Malaysia to Kuala Lumpur in the centre of the west coast is an old Malaysian one.
My friend and I arrive at our seats to find that I've unknowingly booked us a private coupe... The beds are already made up (it's nearly midnight) and we have a small shower and toilet to ourselves. No window on the top bunk, but then there isn't much need for one as we're due to get into K.L. around sunrise. I almost immediately lie down to sleep, but I obviously haven't counted on the evil masterminds who control the trains, and who immediately turn on the aircon at its lowest setting, leaving me to shiver all night under my thin blanket. Which is okay, because I'm awake anyway from the loud clunking and clanking as the train stops, starts, stops. We arrive in Kuala Lumpur a little late, at 7:15am, black-baggy-eyes announcing our travellerhood.
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