Day One
Soooooooooo here I am in fabulous, downtown Kuala Lumpur. It’s hot, sweaty and busy and I love it!
I got here yesterday morning, landing at 7.30, after a 13 hour flight. It was my first time flying long-haul as a non-smoker (6 hrs to NYC doesn’t really count these days, does it?) and I have to say what bliss it is to actually be able to enjoy a flight without fretting about having a faaaaag!
The other great, great thing was actually having space either side of me in the not-very-big economy seat. Its impossible for anyone who’s never had a weight problem to comprehend the horror this used to fill me with. I remember all too well, the shame, the pain, the looks of disgust on the faces of the poor fuckers who had to sit next to me and endure bits of my flesh spilling over onto their seats. Then there was the added fear of the seat belt not being big enough! Thank the lord I never reached the stage where I needed the added on bit, but I’ve seen stewardesses bringing them out for people who do need em and you can see the whole plane going ‘who’s the fat bastard?’ - horrible! These days I usually have to tighten the belt, it feels like winning the lottery!
Talking of lottery wins, the next best thing to getting a free upgrade is getting an empty seat next to you in economy, the odds of which these days are as high as getting the six lucky numbers! Buddha must have blessed me this week cos that’s exactly what I got, and it meant that - thanks to my newfound yoga-tastic flexibility - I could actually lay down and get three really good hours’ sleep in.
I watched Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull on my seat back screen - it was enjoyable enough tho not sad I didn’t schlepp to the cinema to see it. I read my book about the life of Francis Bacon and flicked through assorted fashion mags, and before I knew it, it was landing time.
I was met off the plane by a very nice VIP liason man, who guided me seamlessly through immigration and baggage reclaim, then accompanied me on the fast train into KL Sentral station. It seems to be a big source of pride that this journey takes precisely 28 minutes. I was gonna time it but as we emerged from the tunnel my eyes were blinded by something I’d begun to think I would never see again - the sun! It was blazing!
Soon enough I was at the station and being met by the limo driver. Well I say limo cos that’s what they call it, but actually its the ‘people carrier driver’. I thought I was gonna look like a slut on her hen night pulling up to my hotel in a big white stretch number! Instead it just looked like I’d booked an Addison Lee cab.
A slight hiccup at the faaaaaaabulous Shangri La meant that they didn’t actually have my reservation for this part of the stay. So I gave em the relevant numbers to call and went to have a coffee while they sorted it all out. Fifteen minutes and a rather strong latte later I was being shown to my Horizon Club suite. It seems I’d been given an upgrade cos of the booking cock-up! Let’s hope that happens on the flight home and I get a full length bed!
As I was unpacking, I got a call from the lady who supplies the ‘compression’ garment I will need to wear after the surgery. Oh the glamour of it all! She turned up with a selection and proceeded to remeasure me. Turns out I am a very odd shape indeed, my waist is a medium, my hips a small and my thighs extra small! I come to a bleeding point!
I handed her a small fortune and set off exploring. I had a couple of hours before I was due to meet the Gorgeous Getaways woman and go off to meet my surgeon, so I decided to check out the nearest shopping mall. It was in the base of the Petronas Twin Towers which are the tallest pair of buildings in the world and very, very sparkly! The shops were kinda what you get anywhere in the world, there was a Zara, a Gap, a Tiffany etc etc. Its not like designer stuff is any cheaper here, well not the real stuff anyway! Still I enjoyed just getting out and walking around the streets in my shorts and Birkenstocks (first time they’ve been worn this year!)
I was met by the lovely Jasmine who took me off for tea. She’s my ‘carer’ while I’m here, at the moment I’m in no need of such a thing, but come Friday I know that I will regress to being 6 years old and be very glad of her! Still we had a good old natter and then she took me to see the doc.
The hospital is very clean and very modern, of the UK hospitals I’ve seen, I’d say it’s closest to the Chelsea and Westminster in terms of amenities. It’s a regular private hospital were they do things like heart bypasses etc., but there’s a bit of it that’s set aside for us vain old witches who are never satisfied with anything that nature has given us.
I got a really good vibe from the surgeon and was really chuffed when he showed me just how much skin he reckons he’ll be able to remove. I am gonna look hot! Even more good news came when he told me he would do the thigh lift in a different way. It means I won’t have any scarring on my legs, which is a huge bonus. I was so happy I’ve arranged for him to botox my forehead too while I’m under. I’ll be doing Stars in their Eyes as a Joan Rivers looky-likey by Xmas!
I was dropped back at the hotel and quickly got changed before rushing off to the market in ChinaTown. I really wanted to go to sleep, but was trying to do what all the experts tell you to do in order to beat jet lag, which is stay up as late as possible. Always sounds easier than it actually is.
Once I got amongst the sea of fake Chanel, Gucci and Louis Vuitton, all thoughts of sleep flew right outta my head. There’s some thing about a bargain that has the same effect as coke used to do! Three hours later I was laden with bags of fake shit...all of it fabulous. My best buy is a Richard Prince for Louis Vuitton "Jokes” handbag. I had one of the real ones in my hand earlier this year but managed to convince myself that the price was too obscene even for a handbag addict like me, then when I changed my mind and went back to buy it, it had gone, as had every other one in the country. So you can imagine my joy when I saw a copy here in Petaling St Market! The biggest joke of all - apart from the price £10 as opposed to £1800 for the real one - is that the counterfeiter can’t spell in English!!!!!!! It’s hilarious, and makes me love it even more than the real one!
I got here yesterday morning, landing at 7.30, after a 13 hour flight. It was my first time flying long-haul as a non-smoker (6 hrs to NYC doesn’t really count these days, does it?) and I have to say what bliss it is to actually be able to enjoy a flight without fretting about having a faaaaag!
The other great, great thing was actually having space either side of me in the not-very-big economy seat. Its impossible for anyone who’s never had a weight problem to comprehend the horror this used to fill me with. I remember all too well, the shame, the pain, the looks of disgust on the faces of the poor fuckers who had to sit next to me and endure bits of my flesh spilling over onto their seats. Then there was the added fear of the seat belt not being big enough! Thank the lord I never reached the stage where I needed the added on bit, but I’ve seen stewardesses bringing them out for people who do need em and you can see the whole plane going ‘who’s the fat bastard?’ - horrible! These days I usually have to tighten the belt, it feels like winning the lottery!
Talking of lottery wins, the next best thing to getting a free upgrade is getting an empty seat next to you in economy, the odds of which these days are as high as getting the six lucky numbers! Buddha must have blessed me this week cos that’s exactly what I got, and it meant that - thanks to my newfound yoga-tastic flexibility - I could actually lay down and get three really good hours’ sleep in.
I watched Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull on my seat back screen - it was enjoyable enough tho not sad I didn’t schlepp to the cinema to see it. I read my book about the life of Francis Bacon and flicked through assorted fashion mags, and before I knew it, it was landing time.
I was met off the plane by a very nice VIP liason man, who guided me seamlessly through immigration and baggage reclaim, then accompanied me on the fast train into KL Sentral station. It seems to be a big source of pride that this journey takes precisely 28 minutes. I was gonna time it but as we emerged from the tunnel my eyes were blinded by something I’d begun to think I would never see again - the sun! It was blazing!
Soon enough I was at the station and being met by the limo driver. Well I say limo cos that’s what they call it, but actually its the ‘people carrier driver’. I thought I was gonna look like a slut on her hen night pulling up to my hotel in a big white stretch number! Instead it just looked like I’d booked an Addison Lee cab.
A slight hiccup at the faaaaaaabulous Shangri La meant that they didn’t actually have my reservation for this part of the stay. So I gave em the relevant numbers to call and went to have a coffee while they sorted it all out. Fifteen minutes and a rather strong latte later I was being shown to my Horizon Club suite. It seems I’d been given an upgrade cos of the booking cock-up! Let’s hope that happens on the flight home and I get a full length bed!
As I was unpacking, I got a call from the lady who supplies the ‘compression’ garment I will need to wear after the surgery. Oh the glamour of it all! She turned up with a selection and proceeded to remeasure me. Turns out I am a very odd shape indeed, my waist is a medium, my hips a small and my thighs extra small! I come to a bleeding point!
I handed her a small fortune and set off exploring. I had a couple of hours before I was due to meet the Gorgeous Getaways woman and go off to meet my surgeon, so I decided to check out the nearest shopping mall. It was in the base of the Petronas Twin Towers which are the tallest pair of buildings in the world and very, very sparkly! The shops were kinda what you get anywhere in the world, there was a Zara, a Gap, a Tiffany etc etc. Its not like designer stuff is any cheaper here, well not the real stuff anyway! Still I enjoyed just getting out and walking around the streets in my shorts and Birkenstocks (first time they’ve been worn this year!)
I was met by the lovely Jasmine who took me off for tea. She’s my ‘carer’ while I’m here, at the moment I’m in no need of such a thing, but come Friday I know that I will regress to being 6 years old and be very glad of her! Still we had a good old natter and then she took me to see the doc.
The hospital is very clean and very modern, of the UK hospitals I’ve seen, I’d say it’s closest to the Chelsea and Westminster in terms of amenities. It’s a regular private hospital were they do things like heart bypasses etc., but there’s a bit of it that’s set aside for us vain old witches who are never satisfied with anything that nature has given us.
I got a really good vibe from the surgeon and was really chuffed when he showed me just how much skin he reckons he’ll be able to remove. I am gonna look hot! Even more good news came when he told me he would do the thigh lift in a different way. It means I won’t have any scarring on my legs, which is a huge bonus. I was so happy I’ve arranged for him to botox my forehead too while I’m under. I’ll be doing Stars in their Eyes as a Joan Rivers looky-likey by Xmas!
I was dropped back at the hotel and quickly got changed before rushing off to the market in ChinaTown. I really wanted to go to sleep, but was trying to do what all the experts tell you to do in order to beat jet lag, which is stay up as late as possible. Always sounds easier than it actually is.
Once I got amongst the sea of fake Chanel, Gucci and Louis Vuitton, all thoughts of sleep flew right outta my head. There’s some thing about a bargain that has the same effect as coke used to do! Three hours later I was laden with bags of fake shit...all of it fabulous. My best buy is a Richard Prince for Louis Vuitton "Jokes” handbag. I had one of the real ones in my hand earlier this year but managed to convince myself that the price was too obscene even for a handbag addict like me, then when I changed my mind and went back to buy it, it had gone, as had every other one in the country. So you can imagine my joy when I saw a copy here in Petaling St Market! The biggest joke of all - apart from the price £10 as opposed to £1800 for the real one - is that the counterfeiter can’t spell in English!!!!!!! It’s hilarious, and makes me love it even more than the real one!
Labels: Travel
posted by JoJo Smith at Thursday, October 09, 2008
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