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Johor has been cleaned up. The only working girls are the Indian lady boys. I just can’t get over their deep voices with promises of a great fuck.

The Indian pimp promises me joys in this life time. He doesn’t want me to a martyr. “Just ask me and I’ll show you paradise.” The Chinese pimp is less enthusiastic but invites me into a restaurant to check out his 200 Ringgit a fuck girls.

The Viagra man tries to sell me, well, Viagra. I said I don’t have anyone to use it with, what with the high prices they are charging for Johor whores. A little bit of Malaysian goes a long way and he tells his friend about my gripe. It’s the funniest thing he’s heard all night.

I keep doing the rounds. I found the vendor who sells the blue movies. They don’t play on my laptop and I’m actually grateful for that. The owner quickly switches off the back light and covers his porn selection, saying maybe a plain clothed copper has entered his premises.

The higher weekend tariffs are over for another week. I ask the Chinese owner for a discount. She spends ten minutes showing me her books saying that I’m paying the lowest price in the hotel. “And the first day you checked in at 6 am, so we didn’t charge you 50 Ringgit for an early check in.”

What she didn’t know was that the night manager checked me in at 4 am, and printed out the receipt at six am. It only cost me another ten Ringgit under the table for his handiwork, which saved me a night’s accommodation.

I fondly think of that first morning I checked in and was woken up by loud drilling noises. They are renovating the room next door. I’ve had a week of drilling and banging. On that day, I asked her for a refund, she just ignored me.

Only this morning a big truck parked outside my room, spewing out diesel fumes. I had to close my window before I passed out from fumes. Then the renovation began. Ten hours later, the truck was still outside my room spewing out pollution. It was being used as a power generator.

I forgot to tell her about the cockroach I found in my bedding today. She’d probably charge me extra for having like minded company in the room.

I meet the Malaysian cleaner on the lift earlier today. He says better if I find another hotel if she won’t move me to another floor. But I shouldn’t be so  hard on her. She  gave me a plastic spoon earlier today, and threw in a spoon.

Tonight at the food hall,  Koon the manager helped an old Chinese man outside, as he steadied himself with his umbrella and took baby steps. The old man, perhaps in his 80’s, kept veering towards the noodle shop, but in the end Koon guided him outside safely.

It was touching to witness the old man begin his life cycle again. He’s not going to let old age get in the way of a warm cup of tea and good company. And nor is another elderly person  going to slip on the wet floor tonight. She slides a plastic chair in front of her, to keep her balance, as she makes her way to the toilet. “The floor very slippery tonight,” she said. “ And I don’t’ want to break another hip on a wet floor.”

I go out to the kitchen and chat to the Indonesian waitresses. One lady from Surabaya  is carrying a bag of Thai MSG. Another lady who actually is Thai tells me she’s from Chiang Mai. She’s the cook at my local and that explains why the food is cooked in a distinct Thai style. Then I crack a few jokes with the other ladies. Miss Chiang Mai feels left out.Don’t worry, we’ll talk more tomorrow, I tell her.

Malaysia is truly  multicultural and I think that’s its appeal to travelers.

The rain picks up outside the food hall.  I order another tea and admire Koon who is on his fifth bottle of stout beer. He’s making sure people don’t sit at the table without buying anything and he goes off at two Chinese Malays. Outside, another group of Chinese Malay leave their tables with their Indonesian whores.

It’s  been a slow night in Johor.

 

 

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