Hay, Michael.

He looked behind.

See you again.

I’m going to miss Michael West.

He was one of a kind.

He lived for the dark shadows and Chinese whores.

He loved nothing better than negotiating a price.

‘Two of them staying in my hotel,’ he says.

‘They not leave Malaysia for two years.’

They also work the lane around the corner from the hotel, which is just behind my hotel.

Michael has returned back to Sibu where he’s writing his eighth book in his erotic series.

‘She tried to charge me 200 dollars,’ I said.

‘Her rate is 100 dollars,’ he says, ‘ you just need to negotiate.’

She was in her thirties, quite fit for an old whore and Michael promised her he’d meet her at his hotel after she finished her tricks in the lane.

I’ve moved to parks now.

It’s shady, green, clean and about one kilometer in length.

It’s where longevity walks hand in hand with very fit old Chinese.

‘If you walk one hour a day for the next month,’ says Su, a 76 year old Chinese, who said he used to be a runner – but he gave up, saying he was too small for running and didn’t have the leg reach like taller runners – ‘then you’ll lose about 5 kilograms.’

Day five and I’m sweating out gallons.

‘Good,’ says Su, gumless, a sprite old man who on the first day threatened to overtake me on my first foray into Park Life.

‘You have good walking technique,’ he adds and pulls out a cigarette. It’s a no smoking zone. ‘Just don’t get caught,’ he says, ‘and if you keep it up, you’ll burn the excessive  protein.’

He means burn my excessive fat. I love these diplomatic Chinese, they are good for a bruised ego.


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