Today I made two new friends and re-learned a skill. Neither was planned, and both made the day unexpectedly special.
My original plan was simple: take both routes of the hop-on-hop-off bus and get an overview of Kuala Lumpur. It is an easy walk from my hotel to a tour stop, and along the way I passed through KLCC Park, a 50-acre green oasis beside the Kuala Lumpur Convention Centre. The Petronas Twin Towers, an icon of the city, rose dramatically above the greenery.
Five minutes after I boarded the bus, the sky opened. First a drizzle, then steady rain. The upper deck has a roof, technically. In practice, every time the bus turned, water cascaded off the edges and onto us. Within minutes I was soaked, rainwater mixing freely with sweat. The humidity was fierce.
From that damp perch I began forming impressions of the city. Singapore and Kuala Lumpur may be geographically close, but they feel worlds apart.
Both cities are richly diverse, shaped by Malay, Chinese, and Indian communities. In Singapore everything feels scrubbed and precise. Sidewalks gleam without a hint of litter, plantings are clipped, and infrastructure is spotless and rigorously maintained. In Kuala Lumpur, the energy is vibrant, but the maintenance is less consistent. Later, when I was walking through the city, I needed to watch my step on cracked pavements and passed buildings weathered by humidity and time. KL feels deeply lived in, vibrant, unfiltered, with a mix of the ultra-modern and traditional side-by-side.
After completing one full loop on the bus, I stayed aboard and hopped off at the Malaysian craft center, Kompleks Kraf Kuala Lumpur. At first glance, I thought, “Ah, a large craft shop.” But the deeper I wandered, the more compelling it became.
The center is dedicated to preserving and showcasing the country’s traditional arts and crafts. In the main building there are many shops. There is also a museum that highlights a range of traditional crafts such as batik painting, songket weaving with gold and silver threads, woodcarving, ceramics, and copper work. The displays were educational and beautiful.
Outside of the main building there are many smaller buildings, where craftspeople work and sell their art. There are also several shops where visitors can try their hand at traditional crafts.
In one shop I stopped to watch and was almost immediately befriended by two sisters, Zubina and Faridah. They encouraged me to try my hand at batik painting. I couldn’t resist the chance to both chat with them and have some creative time. It was the highlight of my day.
The sisters have both spent time in the US, in Wisconsin. Zubina for medical studies (she’s a doctor) and Faridah for advanced science studies (she’s a professor). I also met their sons and invited them all to visit me whenever they come to New York.
When I completed my batik, I reboarded the bus. It was late in the afternoon and traffic, both cars and pedestrians, was fierce. When I completed my batik, I reboarded the bus. It was late in the afternoon and traffic (both cars and pedestrians, was at near gridlock. I didn’t mind, it gave me an opportunity to really observe the city.
In downtown Kuala Lumpur, durian is impossible to ignore. Along busy sidewalks and tucked beside shopfronts, vendors stack the spiky green husks into small pyramids, some operating from simple folding tables, others from permanent storefronts with bright signs announcing the day’s varieties. The distinctive, pungent scent drifts down entire blocks, announcing its presence long before you see the fruit itself. I’ve tried durian in other Asian countries. The taste and texture are delightful, not so the smell. In my hotel (and in others I’ve stayed in) signs announce “No durian permitted.”
In the center of town the bus driver announced the final stop, not the one where I had gotten on. Thanks to Google Maps, I managed to walk back to my hotel. By time I arrived I was so exhausted I fell into bed. When I woke, it was too late for dinner. I didn’t really care; I just went back to sleep.