Mostly a whole lot of nothing happens in Malaysia. Morning training, breakfast, afternoon training, lunch, evening training, dinner, rest, repeat until weekend, clean the clinic, go to town to kill time, overheat, repeat until the final days of the journey.
Somehow Malaysia feels close to home though. I more or less know how to exist here, and the accent and quirks of speech of the locals soaking English sound familiar, whether I can understand them or not. Staying at the clinic is old news, but trying new things at restaurants nearby is not unrewarding.
The five weeks pass by quickly and I make my last stop in Kuala Lumpur with my training brother. A short trip to Port Klang is made, Little India and Chinatown are visited, good times are had. On my last night I enjoy watching a thunderstorm from a high balcony at my friend's apartment.
The next day is spent packing and sending my training brother off to the bus station. After that, all there is left to do is to get myself to the airport and be on my way again. The way home is long, but finally having my own space again will be much appreciated.
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