I am terribly behind with the journal, but with so much going on I am simply too exhausted to sit down in front of a screen and start typing. By now I have flown into the picturesque island of Borneo, but before I start moaning about how horrible this island is ;)... I want to share something most peculiar.

On Monday (21st of June) we decided to explore the neighbourhood; destination: Sultan Salahuddin Abdul Aziz Shah Mosque in Shah Alam. Let's just call it the Blue Mosque. So we hopped on the commuter train, got ripped off by the taxi-driver, but finally made it. Beautiful mosque (or muziz as they call it), all blue on top, the second biggest in South Asia with its minarets reaching heights of over 142m.
After taking off the shoes which you do everywhere in Asia when entering a building and dressing up Laura in a hideously ridiculous dress, a local escorted us through the premises. Strictly no photographs were allowed to be taken - which didn't stop me of course - and we were not to enter the prayer hall itself. The signs in the park instructed us to "only discuss religious matters within the mosque grounds", so we just awed in silence. Suddenly, out of nothing a tourist guide comes up and starts talking to us. Better said, to me. Talks about the mosque, the prayers, the architecture, etc. etc. But when brother Din starts to explain the Islam and Allah, his eyes really light up. On a sudden whim, as there really isn't much to do in this town we ask if we could stay for the afternoon prayer... big mistake ;)

I have no idea what brother Din is thinking of me, or why we want to stay but he tells us that if he doesn't explain about the Islam, he is not a good Muslim. I am very sorry brother Din if you are reading this, you were very, very nice, but I have to share this. The discussion went something like the following:

He walks up to me, takes my camera. "This camera very small. Camera make by man". Ah, ok, I see. "Look at sky Thomas. Sky very big. Who make sky? There is only one person, and he is God. His name is Allah". Yes, I get it.
"See my hair, Thomas. When my hair long, I cut. Look at your hair Thomas. When your hair long, you cut". Yes, but that won't be for a while, thanks to mr-i-have-never-seen-a-camera-before-barber. "Look at eyebrow, Thomas. This very close to hair, but no grow long Thomas. Who make this Thomas? There is plan for this. There is only one person, and he is God. His name is Allah". Mmh, yes. "See mosque. Mosque very big, it must have foundation or it collapse. Understand Thomas? Look at sky. Sky very, very big. Sky have no foundation, but no collapse. Who make sky, Thomas? There is only one, his name is Allah".
He goes one like this for a few minutes before we finally manage to excuse ourselves from his grip.

After looking around a bit more, and having a delicious lunch - of which I again have no idea what it is - we head back for the afternoon prayer. As the mullah in one of the minarets starts reading from the Qu-ran to let all the Muslims in at least a 5km radius know it is time for prayer, brother Din invites us in, and explains the Islam again. As we sit there, Laura again dressed up hilariously, brother Din touching me, writing Allah on my hand and intensely explaining - or converting? - the Qu-ran, it takes all my will-power not to start out in a burst of laughter. I don't dare look at Laura, she doesn't dare look at me, as both of us are on the verge of uncontrollable mirth. Especially when brother Din again starts the "Sky very big, Thomas. Who make sky" mantra and I have to answer him with "Allah". To try and get some breath I try to draw Laura into the conversation but brother Din merely glimpses at her and turns his attention right back to me. It is like she isn't even there, a non-person, a puddle of clothes, only good for cooking and raising children. We almost succumb to sniggering when brother Din takes out his cellphone, punches in some numbers and declares: "Look Thomas, I call Allah" The number comes up invalid "Look, Allah talk to me. How phone work Thomas? Wave come through air, we no see." "Allah talk the same, we no see, but he anywhere".

But I really don't want to be rude, brother Din was very, very nice. His voice was beautiful as he sang the first verses of the Qu-ran. He even gave me a copy of the Qu-ran which I couldn't refuse. Felt pretty bad about that, as I really wasn't ready to be brain-washed. He even gave us a ride to the train-station in his car - which broke down a few hundred meters outside the muziz. "Shah Allah". "It is God's will". All the way back on the train we were giggling, snorting. After a while all it took was a "Sky very big Laura. Who make sky, Laura?" to start all over again. A lovely day, which I would recommend to everyone.

Just to close up this day, from the moment we left KL up until we returned we did not see a single Caucasian. A really, really weird strange feeling Even at the muziz we were the only foreigners and got even more looks, and hidden giggles than usual.

The next day I packed up my belongings, said my goodbyes and boarded the plane to Kota Kinabalu.