As soon as we landed at Changi Airport, our flight from Heathrow behind us, we made a beeline for the shuttle booking counter. The fatigue of a long-haul flight clung to us, but adrenaline sparked by the rush to book another flight to Kuala Lumpur kept us going. It was an impromptu decision, one of many we’d made throughout this journey.
Despite the last-minute nature of our plans, she always had a way of making it seem seamless. I never questioned her choices she was adept at navigating the unknown, and I, drawn by the allure of her spontaneity, always chose to follow. It was the thrill of the unexpected that appealed to me, the way it kept our travels vibrant and unpredictable.
Knowing every detail of what’s ahead can dull the excitement, but embracing uncertainty brings life its true adventure. And I thrive on that—life itself is an adventure.
As we soared above the clouds, leaving Heathrow behind, she suddenly turned to me, her eyes reflecting a resolute gleam.
"I need to go to Kuala Lumpur," she said. I blinked, taken aback. "Why?"
"I need to meet some people and pass on some stuff to them," she replied with her usual calm.
"Do you need me there?" I asked, already anticipating her answer.
"It's up to you. If you want to tag along, that's fine. I only need two days, and then we can head back to Singapore. We can catch the last bus out of Kuala Lumpur."
"But we haven't booked any flights to KL," I pointed out, my mind racing to keep up.
"Remember the shuttle service? If we land on time, we can catch the last flight to KL. Let's see how it goes. If we can't get the flight, I can come back to the airport tomorrow," she explained, her tone as steady as ever, even in the face of uncertainty. Her confidence in navigating the unknown left me quiet.
I was lost in my thoughts, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me. I glanced at her as she scribbled in her little notebook, her constant companion on this journey.
This trip to London had revealed facets of her I hadn’t seen before. Just when you think you know someone, they surprise you, making you question how well you truly know them and in turn, how well you know yourself.
The last few days in London were etched in my memory. It was our first time traveling together, and the experience had been blissful. We navigated the city effortlessly, enjoying every moment without any arguments or disagreements. She made the journey seem easy and delightful.
This was a stark contrast to my trip with Norhayati to Pulau Pangkor and Penang. That trip was a cacophony of chaos and exhaustion. Norhayati had become possessive, restricting my interactions with other men.
We were only casual friends, not lovers, and worked together in the same ward. When I mentioned my plans to visit Pangkor Island, my sanctuary from the bustling city, she insisted on joining. I had reluctantly agreed. I usually prefer traveling alone, and regretted not sticking to that. Norhayati's loud snoring had further disrupted my peace. But London was different spontaneous, full of surprises, and devoid of dull moments.
“I’ll come with you,” I decided, feeling the familiar tug of adventure.
“Are you sure? Aren’t you tired?” she asked, concern lacing her voice.
“I am, but I can manage. It’s a good opportunity to contact our friend in Shah Alam and get some updates,” I said, more to reassure myself.
“Good idea. Is he in Shah Alam?” she queried, tilting her head thoughtfully.
“Not sure. He might have gone back to JB, but I’ll send a note and see if he responds,” I said, already planning our next steps.
“Alright then. KL, here we come.”
The Singapore-Kuala Lumpur shuttle is one of Malaysia Airlines' most lucrative routes. Established by an agreement between Singapore and Malaysia in 1982, it allows passengers to book last-minute flights under a shared shuttle service. Despite it being a Thursday night, our flight was packed. Fridays and weekends are even busier, with tickets often sold out well in advance.
The flight to Kuala Lumpur was brief, just about 45 minutes. Immigration was quick, with few travelers at that hour. We soon found ourselves in a taxi.
"To Sheraton Subang Jaya, please," she instructed the driver.
"We haven’t booked a hotel," I mentioned, a hint of worry creeping in.
"Don’t worry. There are always hotels available near the airport. Leave it to me. Let’s treat ourselves. I still have the 900-pound sterling we can afford to stay at a five-star hotel," she assured me, whispering the last part as if sharing a secret.
I didn’t question the money. I had my own stash of pounds and Singapore dollars. We hadn’t spent much in the UK thanks to Florence's hospitality. We avoided expensive restaurants and shopped sparingly. My only purchases were banned books in Singapore and a Scottish kilt. For meals, we often went Dutch, enjoying street food like fish and chips and pizza, with one splurge at an exclusive Indian restaurant, courtesy of Florence.
"It's just for tonight. Tomorrow we'll check out and find a more budget-friendly hotel closer to the city center," she continued, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Subang Jaya Airport, or Sultan Abdul Aziz Shah Airport, had been Kuala Lumpur's main airport since its opening on August 30th, 1965. With the longest runway at the time, it housed three terminals: Terminal 1 for international flights, Terminal 2 for the Singapore-KL shuttle, and Terminal 3 for domestic flights. Subang Jaya, a rapidly growing suburb of Kuala Lumpur in Selangor, is home to the Sheraton Subang Jaya, a luxurious five-star hotel.
I was too tired and hungry to respond, still adjusting to the time difference. Sleep had eluded me on the flight, disturbed by a snoring, restless passenger. All I craved now was a hot bath, a hearty meal, and some sleep. We checked into a double room, and she paid the deposit in cash. As soon as we entered the room, she dashed into the shower, got dressed, and left in a waiting taxi.
Left alone, I was still recovering from jet lag. After a shower, I explored the lavish Sheraton Subang Jaya for the first time. The inviting white linen bed tempted me, but I resisted. My stomach growled, longing for familiar Malay food. Three weeks of Western cuisine had been enough.
After dinner at a nearby street food stall, I returned to the hotel lobby. The roadside food was as good as any restaurant if clean. The stall’s fantastic teh tarik and a simple meal of white rice with asam pedas, fried kangkong, and sambal belachan hit the spot.
"I am trying to contact this person," I showed a note to the night shift receptionist, fresh from my meal. No more restaurant food the roadside stall was perfect.
"This place is too far for a taxi, and it's risky to go alone," he advised after reading the note.
"Can someone deliver this note for me?" I asked, hoping for a solution.
"One of the boys is going off duty soon. Let me ask him," he replied, disappearing into the office. I wasn’t sure this was the right move, but I felt compelled to try and contact this person after so long.
The receptionist returned with a young Malay boy, smiling.
"Can you deliver this note to this address?" I asked, handing over the note.
"Is there anything else you want me to tell him?" he asked.
"No, just ensure he gets the note personally," I said, handing him a $50 Singapore dollar bill. "Is this enough for the fare?"
His eyes lit up. "More than enough, madam. More than enough." He took the envelope and the money and left quickly. Now, all I had to do was wait.
If he was nearby, he would respond. I took the lift back to my room, pondering what the next day might bring.
Chpt 1 / 36
