Asking for a death sentence

I almost died today.

And the day before.

And I'll probably have a near-death experience again tomorrow.

Driving in KL is, to sum it up; fast, unforgiving, aggressive, dangerous, stressful and downright traumatic. Viv does pretty well, considering the aggression on the road here. Here's a list of things that are problematic for driving in KL;

1. Everyone drives way too fast

2. Motorcycles

3. Braking is common, before hitting the accelerator immediately after

4. People don't care

5. Motorcycles 

6. There are no lanes

7. Indication is a foreign concept

8. Motorcycles

9. Road safety as enforced by the authorities operates on bribing (allegedly)

10. If we weren't driving around in a BMW we would legit already be dead

We've already hit another car, had a motorbike hit us, seen crashes, almost hit a cyclist (quote Viv; "Motorcyclists are asking for a death sentence if they drive in KL. They want to be killed.") and almost hit a pregnant pedestrian. 

And I've been here 3 days.

Every time I get in or out of the car, I'm praying. Either praying for my life, or thanking the good Lord above that I've survived another journey.

Apart from trying to avoid everybody on the road actively hating every other vehicle in a ten mile radius, we've been soaking up Malay street culture at the markets - full of colour, life and culture.

Duran fruit is pungent and hangs in the air, the smell of Indian spices and mee goreng clouds the small stalls. The humidity is heavy and falls like a sheet over the city, causing our tops to stick to our bodies. The markets are full of energy, we are greeted with friendly smiles and yelling faces, calling us in, asking what they can make for the pretty ladies, and friendly banter is passed between us

It's an attack on our sensory systems, the sun sets and Muslims break fast, the markets becoming alive as more people flock to the streets and more fresh juices and sugar cane are poured. We ended up buying armfuls of street food, and found a table to sit down and share our plastic packets of fried fruit, our newspaper wrapped noodles, our brown string bags holding dried squid, fresh jellies and fish wrapped in banana leaves. 

We ate roti and fried tofu, ate Malay desserts and yes, there was no hesitation eating with one's hands. I swear every time I do it's a small victory and I'm virtually fist pumping. In the company of three people I love dearly, and due to the fact we were jumping in the car again shortly, - apart from eating through 25 bags of street food, we still found time to throw our heads back and laugh at the sheer joy of being alive.