The gal behind the reception desk at the backpacker's hotel insisted that I leave for the airport at 6 AM for my 9 AM flight. I was at the gate by 7:40. I tried to find postcards to no avail so I ended up at one of the four or five hundred Starbucks located in the Beijing Capital Airport.

Landing in Kuala Lumpur or KL as the locals call it the first thing that you notice was the heat and humidity. Exiting the airport was like hitting a wall off stickiness. The second thing you noticed was the construction. The airport seemed to be under repair. At KL central station, workers were painting the ceiling of the walkways out of the building. It took me nearly thirty minutes of following detour signs to find the monorail station to take me to my hotel.

The monorail was an experience in itself. As most things in KL it was fully air conditioned and once again, like many times in China, I was the only white guy on the train, but instead of being surrounded by Chinese, on this trip I was surrounded by Chinese, Malays, Indians or a combination therein. Most women wore brightly colored headscarves covering all but their eyes, nose and mouth. Travel the five or so stops toward my hotel felt as if Disneyland had been abandoned and left for the jungle. The train weaved above traffic, splitting massive skyscrapers and shopping malls covered in three or four story digital signs; it was a jungle Times Square on steroids.