Tagged: The Things You Can’t Prove Are Lies

Antoni Gaudi’s Sun MosaicOK, I’m back from the 10th circle of hell. Yeah, you read that right, the 10th circle. You’re quite right, there were only nine circles. Until Saddam Hussein started demanding a corner office in the 9th circle. God he’s such a pain. So the devil gave him his old office and built a whole new circle for himself. And he needed some I.T. help. Of course, the devil likes to work with people who both know they are for sale and know what their price tag is. Naturally, that means he hires consultants.

One recommendation. If you’re on your way to hades, by either handbasket or the regular route, don’t forget your MP3 player and your shades. The eternal shrieks of the damned get sort of grating after a while, like an alarm clock left running by a vacationing neighbor, and the hell fire can get kind of bright. Especially if you’re hung over.

Ah yes, I’ve been tagged. I hope this isn’t the payment the red-horned guy was promising me for my work. You can’t ever count on him paying his invoices as agreed.

The Rules
1.) Post the rules first.
2.) If you are tagged you have to tell your faithful blogging public 8 random facts about yourself in a post on your blog. It can be habits, an idea, facts, or just um… stuff.
3.) At the end of your post, choose eight other bloggers you’d like to know something about and tag them.
4.) Leave a comment telling them you’ve tagged them and that they will need to read your post on your blog.
5.) Bend the rules as convenient. (My special addition!)

The Things You Can’t Prove Are Lies

I. I’ve been published at least twice under different pseudonyms. But before you think back on the articles you’ve recently in major publications, it’s only fair I tell you that once was for an underground high school newspaper and the other was for a slightly more high brow (i.e. pretentious) college literature magazine. I still have both.

II. I started seriously enjoying writing in a high school English class. Fed up with all the essay writing, in irritation I wrote a very antagonistic paper as one of my assignments. The plan was to make reading the assignment as much of a pain as it was to write it. As many of my plans do, it backfired; the teacher loved it and started treating me as though I were literary elite. Being the obnoxious bastard I am, I found that the prospect of writing angry for good grades a win-win proposition. I was brimming with pointless teen angst. I aced the class and was put in the advanced class the following year.

In college, to keep it interesting, I made a point of writing my papers in support of whatever view point I thought my professor disagreed with the most or in favor or anything patently absurd. Somehow my textual nettles continued to be well received. And I got pretty good at supporting the unsupportable. (I should have been lawyer!) I was very Swiftian. (Not to be confused with “Swift Boat“.) Of course, I didn’t know it at the time, I was just being sadistic.

III. My crowning achievement in art of the chafing word was contributing three pieces of poetry/prose to the college literary magazine under an ridiculous pseudonym. The incredibly obnoxious ditties made it in and I had the pleasure of hearing one of the editors angrily discussing their inappropriateness. Ah, good times. :)

IV. I’ve been in a small (four seater!) plane when all the electronics went out. In the clouds. I participated in an emergency line of site landing that involved a tight spiral down through a small hole in low cloud cover. Once down, the problem was diagnosed (pilot error), and we got back on and flew the rest of the way to our destination. Same plane, maybe an hour later. Several people still claim to have the “Oh Shit” email I sent them from my Crackberry while I was in the air. Sadly, I don’t.

V. I started smoking cigars with a friend on the Oregon coast in the middle of the night. We’d leave campus after in the evening after classes and arrive well into the night. On the way we’d stop at the “Mecca of Convenience” and pick up some firewood for a bonfire and whatever cigars they had at the counter. They were horrible in the way you would expect a convenience store cigars to be, but an essential part of the evening. (A better cigar probably wouldn’t have burned worth a damn on those gusty nights.) As was the “flaming manhood”, but that’s a story for another day.

VI. I’ve worn a kilt on numerous occasions, but I’m not going to prove it. That will disappoint at least one occasional reader of this blog, as he wants to submit it for Photoshoping on Fark. But I can tell you that I looked dead-sexy. Especially back when I had long hair. Don’t worry, you would agree. (Even if it required adjustments in your blood-alcohol levels.)

VII. I’d much rather be rich than famous. If I suddenly disappear, you’ll know I got my wish. Either that, or I was crushed under a collapsing stack of cigar humidors.

VIII. I won my wife over with my dance moves. Quit laughing, it’s true. She’ll vouch for it. A friend of mine (and at the time, co-worker) from Nigeria and I were really kicking some ass on the floor of a Malaysian dance club when we were approached by my now wife and her friend. The dancing continued well into the early hours of the morning. And again a few weeks later. The rest is very colorful history.

Honestly, I think nearly everybody I know in the blog world has been tagged already. (I was sooo gonna tag Laurie Kendrick, but somebody got to her first.) And the cigar bloggers I know would probably put their lit Arturo Fuentes out on my arm if I tagged them. In keeping with my new rule to bend the rules for my convenience, I’ll let people tag themselves. Wanna be tagged? Leave a comment, and I’ll update this post to make the tagging official. (Brilliant or lazy, you make the call! ;) )

People who have brought this tagging on themselves

  1. Space Chronicles Tiffany

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If I Ran The Pub

Beer Means More Here“But if I chose the brew,”
Said Brian, beer guru,
“I’d make a few changes
That’s what I’d do…”

Though my reputation for alcohol consumption in certain circles has reached mythic levels reserved for naked, bearded Greek guys living on Mount Olympus, I have yet to actually discuss the matter of booze in any thorough manner. Well, I can’t allow this over sight to continue.

Imagine if you will, a parallel universe. In this alternate universe, I’m the new owner and operator of a Irish pub. And in this parallel dimension (which is heavily influenced by American television sitcoms) I’m magically able live a trendy lifestyle with comical problems that are generally resolved with in the hour.

Anyway, I have an important decision to make in my alternate universe. What beer will I put on tap? I’m not subject to weird protectionist booze inter-state/country import policies or odd restrictive laws that harsh real-life buzzes. Nor am I slowed down by limited productions of the rarer or seasonal beverages. Of course, as a resource, I can rely on the parallel real me, who drinks far more than he should, doesn’t resolve his problems nicely in an hour and faces the often unfortunate consequences of his misguided actions.

Between the two of us, we’ve come up with the following list, sorted by beer style for your reading pleasure.

India Pale Ale (IPA)
Bridgeport IPA – This hoppy award winner is a staple beer in Portland, Oregon. Recently it’s gotten a wider distribution. Seek this one out, it’s worth it. Or have your parallel self stop by my pub. My uncle from Virgina fell in love with it in one evening. He promised to never leave it, but he did have a plane to catch. The beer’s heart was broken. I think your love is all it needs to mend.

Sweetwater 420 – According to the website, this is a “West Coast Style Pale Ale” which is probably why its been my beer of choice the whole time I’ve lived in Hotlanta. It’s hoppy, it’s got a clean finish and it’s got an arbitrary number for a name. And it’s tasty. That’s all I need to tap the keg.

Amber / Red
Golden Valley Brewery Red Thistle Ale – This beer balances mysteriously between an Amber and an IPA, and is absolutely fantastic. In the real world, you better head to Oregon to find this gem. Even then, your only sure bet is heading to the sleepy little college town of McMinnville in the Oregon wine country.

Flying Dog Old Scratch Ale – I don’t know why, but I simply can’t put into words how much I like this beer. Nor can I understand why this is the single hardest Flying Dog brew to find. Fortunately, in my parallel universe pub, this guy is made exclusively for my pub. And its the most popular beer in the world. So business is good. (For research purposes only, I cracked one of these guys open. If a lightly hoppy, cinnamony malty beer sounds good to you, go pick up a cold six. If it doesn’t what’s wrong with you? Is the peer pressure not coming through strongly enough?)

New Belgium Fat Tire Amber Ale – This beer is sweeping the nation in real life. (I might hold that against it, if it weren’t such a great beer.) However due to the aforementioned weird voodoo booze-import policies, nearly every state in the union has this gem, except my adopted home of Georgia. This tasty “toated malt” flavored concoction of hops and yeast poop is so popular, it even appears in wikipedia. Resistance is futile, but the implants are so small, and the procedure nearly painless, you might as well get it over with.

Blonde / Hefeweizen
Caffrey’s (Official dead website) – This is the obscure Irish cousin of Boddingtons, that gets the same respect as the Irish did in the U.S. in the 19th century. The awesome thing about this beer, aside from the flavor, is the honey-colored Guinness-style cascade. In the real world, Coors owns the rights to U.S. distribution of this beer, and elects to sit on its giant corporate thumb instead of blessing us with this nectar. (If you want to see it in the U.S. again, give Coors a call at 1-800-642-6116).

Hoegaarden – With a double ‘a’ like that, you know its gotta be Belgian. It was over this cloudy, golden liquid heaven I seduced my then girlfriend with my wit, charm and fluid capacity. In the real world, this nectar is widely available in the bottle, and every now and then, on tap.

Leffe Blonde – Though I don’t get to enjoy this brew often, it merits a tap because it holds a special place in my heart. A place that probably was originally responsible for important blood circulation. In any event, this beer is responsible for my lack of memory of several Friday night chicken vindaloo trips I made to Brick Lane while I was working in London. It was also an unpleasant Saturday morning companion on the train to Edinburgh and Paris.

Stout / Brown / Porter
Guinness, Murphy’s Irish Stout and Beamish – This should come as no surprise to anybody. You have an Irish pub, you need an Irish beer. Especially for St. Patties. And I’m not going to discriminate, we’re boasting the full Irish stout trinity.

Bridgeport Porter – Not only do I love this beer for it’s caramelly-chocolaty goodness, we (meaning the beer and I) teamed up to corrupt my friend “I Don’t Like Beer” Dana. It’s a hard beer not to love. And for some reason porters are not a very easy beer to find. They’re so hard to find that you won’t even find a mention of it on the Bridgeport website!

Lagers/Pilsners
Peroni – I first tried this in Italian train station. The kind of place that featured guys with pencil-thin facial hair and immaculately pressed pastel Armani outfits. So a typical Italian train station. I was as dry as a prune and happy to sample a local beverage. This one surprised me. For a light beer it was crisp and delicious. And the good news for those of you firmly stuck in reality, it’s probably available in your area.

Tiger Beer – This is on the list because I want a beer from southeast Asia. And I’ve had to many rough experiences with Singha. (Mark, if you’re reading this, you know what I’m talkin’ about!) This beer won by heart by virtue of being free during happy hour in the executive lounge in the JW Marriott in K.L. And the ads they ran before movies in Malaysia were so ridiculously funny.

Fruity/Odd Ball
McMenamins Ruby – This beer, like the McMenamins pub chain is a pacific northwest cult favorite. The ruby is basically a raspberry hefeweizen. But its hard to focus on the beer when surrounded by the surreal, quirky hotels, schools and theaters they serve it in. Though my parallel universe pub is Irish, it would definitely steal a page from the McMenamins design handbook.

21st Amendment Watermelon Wheat – This beer was a hit with my wife, my friend Cowan, and his wife also at the 2006 Oregon Brewers Festival. I thought it wasn’t bad either. What can I say, I’m a man of the people. I want my parallel universe customers to be happy, and this beer was out faster than any other beer at the brewfest. Wanna drink one in real life? Head to San Francisco. Hold on there! Quit the humming and drop the flowers, we’re talking about beer.

Jalapeño Chili Beer – This was a seasonal beer put out by a California brewery for the 1996 Oregon Brewers Festival. To my knowledge this beer has been lost to time (and the internet) in the real world. (I’ve seen some evidence that it might have been a product of the late Russell Schehrer, head brewer of Wynkoop Brewing Company…) But, in my parallel-universe, Irish pub paradise, I can resurrect this beer and serve it. Because everyone should have the opportunity to taste a beer that tastes like hot nacho cheese with jalapeños. Even when it’s cold. Kind of like the jelly bean that tastes like buttered popcorn. Only this guy will get you drunk, and as a bonus, will wreak havoc on your digestive system. :twisted: Hey, I never said my pub had to be practical. And just try to tell me that that wouldn’t be bottled awesomeness.

So whaddaya think? Up for a trip to McBrian’s? (Maybe I should all it O’Brian’s?) Feel free to recommend a beverage to add to the list, the parallel reality Brian has no trouble with distributors! :)

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Six Unusal Free eBooks On My Reading List

The Sony eBook ReaderThe thing about blogging is that it tends to steal bits of your time away from daily activities, if you let it. And I’ve been letting it run rampant. Happily though, in my situation, it seems to mostly be cannibalizing my TV time, which is wasted time anyway. But unfortunately it has also been sneaking bites out of my reading time.

Now that my wife has read all the things she’s interested in reading on my Sony Reader (meaning I can use it again), I plan to reclaim some of that time. As an incentive to get myself reading again, I’ve picked a list of the most random, intriguing and off-the-wall books I could find for free on ManyBooks.

Here, more or less in the order I’ve found them, are my selections:

Trapped by Malays by George Manville Fenn – From what I can gather, this is a turn of the (last) century English colonial adventure story that takes place on the Malay peninsula (probably somewhere in modern day Malaysia). News and stories about Malaysia are few and far between where I live now, and I always make a point to check out anything I come across relating to my wife’s home. (I always have to chuckle whenever I hear the word “Malays”, it sounds just like “malaise“. It’s an almost irresistible call for a witty pun. Almost. :) )

The Practical Distiller by Samuel McHarry – As the subtitle to the books says, it’s “An Introduction To Making Whiskey, Gin, Brandy, Spirits, &c. &c. of Better Quality, and in Larger Quantities, than Produced by the Present Mode of Distilling, from the Produce of the United States.” Sounds like a must read for anybody interested in making a bit of moonshine or bathtub gin! This will be especially interesting to me because my friends took me on a tour of an Oregon distillery as part of my recent all-day bachelor party. (Eat your heart out, I got to try a little somethin’ right from the still! “Mmmm… this tastes like blindness!” :D )

King Solomon’s Mines and Allan Quatermain by H. Rider Haggard – These are the books that inspired the Allan Quatermain character in the truly unfortunate movie The League of Extraordinary Gentleman. If one thing positive can be said for that movie, it forever locked Sean Connery in my head as Allan Quatermain, which can only help make these books more fun to read.

The Hacker’s Dictionary by Eric S. Raymond – This is the youngest book on this list, being a mere 15 years old (1992) as of this writing. It also has the chance of being a book that is impossible to read in the conventional sense, if it truly is a dictionary. However, I’m gonna take a stab at it, and I may just fire up the movie Hackers (1995) to get me in the mood. (The most up to date version of this book can also be found online here, under the name The Jargon File).

The Confessions of an English Opium-Eater by Thomas De Quincey – All I can say is that it’s hard to pass up a title like that. Based on the excerpt listed with it, it could be a pompous, insufferable read. If it is, I hope it will so bad that its actually makes a good, but unitentional, comedy. Based on the wikipedia page dedicated to the book, it was considered both “taboo” during its Victoria era context, due at least in part to the description of Mr. De Quincey’s opium trips in great detail. Perhaps it will be a pretentious R-rated Alice in Wonderland?

If any of these sound interesting to you, check ‘em out. Maybe we can compare notes later. And if you do enjoy them, consider making a small donation to ManyBooks. I plan to. They really provide an awesome service to eBooks fans. Happy reading!

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In Defense Of The Murse, Or Manliness And The Messenger Bag

Indiana Jones and His BagI, apparently, have a murse. A manbag. A man purse. I was informed of this recently by a couple of friends who took great joy in the announcement and my surprise. The exchange went a bit like this:

Friend 1: “Hey, nice murse.”

Me: “What?”

Friend 2: “Dude, you have a man purse. A murse.”

Me: “What are you talking about? This is a messenger bag.”

Friends 1 & 2: Uncontrollable laughter.

Friend 1: Murse. Laughter.

Friend 2: Manbag More laughter.

Before you start to feel sorry for me, you should know that I beat them both to death with my messenger bag while laughing in a deep, manly fashion. OK, not quite. I gave them cigars, and my masculinity was fully reinstated. It also helped that I pointed out to them that Indiana Jones, the single greatest man in myth or reality, carried one on all of his adventures. In fact, it saved his life several times, generally by snagging something and keeping him from falling to an almost certain, crocodile-chewed death. The Indiana Jones argument was a silver bullet. The subject was forgotten.

My History with the Murse

I’ve been carrying around some kind of man bag for years now. Sometimes in the form of a laptop bag (by definition, it qualifies), but often in the form of a messenger bag, and usually on the weekends when I’m running around. I wasn’t thinking about Indiana Jones laying the priceless head of an ancient Inca treasure in his bag when I bought my first weekend messenger bag. (Though the image has come to mind since.) I was in Malaysia, and all the young, hip Asian guys hanging around Bukit Bintang in Kuala Lumpur’s “golden triangle” had one dangling behind them. And I thought, “well isn’t that handy?” I usually had a book and an MP3 player to lug around, and my pockets weren’t the best at keeping these things off the ground. A good messenger bag would do the trick. So I bought a cheap blue one with strong latches.

Fast forward 5 years to Christmas 2006 in New York City. My old lateral messenger bag is on its last leg. And somehow, messenger bags are still fashionable. (I don’t pretend to know how that works.) Only now the style is smaller and vertical. My wife is in a perfume/jewelry/who-cares shop and next door is a Tumi store. I walk in and 15 minutes later walk out with the murse in question. A true, rugged, canvas-looking, Indiana Jones messenger bag. One that roughly resembles the one in the picture above, except taller than wide.

Separating the Dr. Jones bag from the Murse

A messenger bag is tool, a murse is an accessory. It’s just as simple as that. When I selected my messenger bag, I made no attempt to coordinate the bag’s color or fabric with my coat, shoes, car or any else I own. The only consideration I gave to color was to avoid anything bright, trendy or eye catching. That’s because this bag is meant to hold things like cigars, cigar accessories, a book or a newspaper, and a small pad of paper and a pen. Stuff that comes in handy when you’re hunting treasure and running from angry indigenous peoples.

How do I know the difference between a murse and man’s messenger bag? Well, because I own what could only be consider a murse. Its a slick two-toned, hand-made, Italian leather briefcase, I bought in the Florence’s outdoor market years ago. The thing is beautiful, but the only time I’ve ever carried it was through the airport on the way home from Italy. I figure I’ll probably actually use it once I finally become a Wall Street stock broker in the 1980′s. (Unfortunately these things just don’t work in the common-sense, unpretentious, slacker-chic world of I.T. consulting.) Unlike my weekend bag, this briefcase was all about aesthetics. It would be absolutely impossible to carry unless you’re wearing an expensive suit. (Which is another slight problem, since I don’t own one.) So for now, it’s closet candy. Manbag closet candy.

So the next time you see a guy carrying a bag, here’s your guide to determine whether he’s metrosexual or a bull-whip slinging treasure hunter:

  • Is the bag ugly, weathered or worn?
  • Is the guy unshaven or kinda grizzled?
  • Is he smoking or chewing on a cigar?
  • Is he running from dogs or a group of angry indigenous people?
  • Did he just shoot a guy showing off with a pair of scimitars?

If the answer 2 or more of these questions is yes, you’ve got a man’s man sporting a messenger bag. It could be me. If you answered yes to all of these, you’re watching an Indiana Jones movie.

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R.I.P. Boshi (2000-2007)

A quick memorial for my wife’s beloved pet Boshi.

You will be missed. (More info here.)

8 Reasons to Visit Malaysia (And A Few Not To)

Malaysia, Celebrating 50 YearsI’ve spent a lot of time in Malaysia over the years (about 6), both on business and for tourism, and I genuinely like the country. In some ways, I kind of see it as my adoptive South East Asian home, or at least a base of operations whenever I’m in SE Asia. My wife is Malaysian Indian, so I am a bit biased, but I think that puts me in a unique position to review the country’s qualities as a tourist destination.

Malaysia Is Great Because…

  1. It’s 50 years old this year. On the 31st of August Malaysia makes it to half a century as a nation, and they have a lot of parties and activities planned to celebrate the milestone. And when Malaysia does something, they do it big. They’re already on the books for quite a few world records, including tallest flag pole, and largest pizza. And I think the Petronas Towers hold some record also. (I once worked in an office in the second tower. Above the bridge. Seriously.) Who knows what records they’ll be breaking this year.
  2. It’s inexpensive. At the time of this writing, $1 USD buys you 3.42 in Malaysian currency (the Ringgit). To give you an idea, it’s very easy to great food all day for under $10 USD. A warning though, they tax the heck out of alcohol. Even a bottle of the local beers will cost you at least $3.50 USD or more. And don’t think you’re gonna luck out at the Starbucks, your venti Frappuccino may blow your food budget for the day. But if you play your cards right, your time in Malaysia will cost you a lot less than your airfare.
  3. You can smoke cuban cigars in the Havana Club. If I’ve read the laws correctly, the legality of Americans smoking cuban cigars even in foreign countries is questionable, but happily, they don’t check your passport when you smoke one. (Just don’t try to bring them back with you.) The Havana Club isn’t necessarily better than any other cigar bar, but with the tropical Malaysian climate, you can imagine you’re there… pre-embargo, of course! ;)
  4. Your inner pirate captain will be satisfied. This one is a bit controversial, piracy is rampant in Malaysia, but they have taken steps to crack down on it. When I was there earlier this year, much of the pirated software I remember had disappeared. But there was no end of the “special edition” game boy games, and to a lesser extent, DVD’s that you could buy if you went to the right places.
  5. There’s exotic fruit like Guava, Rambutan, and Durian. I think Rambutan has got to be one of the world’s coolest fruits. It’s red or yellow, covered with with a thick almost spiny hair and tastes great. Durian on the other hand is just an interesting, odoriferous experience. And it’s been in the news a lot recently too (a few articles here and here). Beyond these, fresh fruit juice is in inexpensive abundance. It’s hard to beat watermelon or guava juice first thing in the morning.
  6. There’s a lot of monkeys. I love monkeys. When was the last time you were eating at an Italian restaurant and were entertained by the antics of a frolicing group of wild monkeys?
  7. It has a good mix of westernization and the exotic east. The nice thing about Malaysia is that it is westernized enough that you won’t be completely out of your comfort zone (yep, they have flush toilets in the hotel rooms), but eastern enough that you’ll know you’ve escaped the western world. For example, in the same day you can enjoy ornate Chinese temples and Thaipusam festivals in the Batu Caves, and return to your hotel room and catch up with CNN, buy big name Italian designer clothes and/or go smoke a cigar in the Havana Club. You can tailor your visit to be as exotic as you can handle.
  8. You can haggle to get to the fabled “best price”. I love that about Malaysia. In any shop that isn’t part of an large national or international chain, you can bargain the price down. The price you pay is really up to you, as price stickers generally display the heavily marked up tourist price. And they expect you to haggle. In one classic example, my argument based on a little bit of nutty Numerology was convincing enough to lower an already reduced price on one item by another 36 Ringgit. And let me tell you, this merchant drove a hard bargain. I know I was his most profitable sale of the day.

Malaysia is Not So Great Because…

  1. There is a small lunatic fringe element. I’ve never, ever had a problem with anyone in Malaysia (well, excluding some taxi cab drivers, but that’s different). But there there is at least one state on the east coast of the peninsula that has imposed some very strict islamic laws forbidding such naughty things as women and men vacationing together or the wearing of swimsuits on the beach. You also want to avoid the Malaysian-Thai border. The good news is that these areas are extremely easy to avoid (it’s actually a challenge as a tourist to get to these areas), and have very little to do with life elsewhere in the saner parts of Malaysia.
  2. Your freedom of speech is in question. Though you’re not likely to be hassled in any way by the authorities (they love tourists), I’d advise against doing your Che Guevara impersonation and loudly announcing your anti-establishment leanings. If you have them. You’re a guest, be cool and Malaysia will treat you well. Just know that the TV and movies you watch, and the newspapers you read have passed through the Malaysian Censor-matic.
  3. Your inner pirate captain will be satisfied. Yep, this is in both the positive and negative columns. I can have my cake and eat it too, especially on my blog. Piracy is stealing and stealin’ ain’t cool. Unless you’re drinking rum and saying things like “Avast ye!” and “Shiver me timbers!” (For more information on the stress it causes me to hold conflicting view points, check out my post Can You Be A Good Person And Do Bad Things?) As I said before, the situation is improving. And as a tourist, there’s a good chance you won’t see any at all. (You don’t know where to look, and I won’t tell you. :) )
  4. The taxi drivers will gouge you. This is a weak one, but I’m all out of bad things to say about Malaysia. And this is a very common complaint. (There is even a hotline for tourists to complain about dishonest taxi drivers.) If it’s raining, you will pay a premium, if you can get a taxi to stop. If there’s heavy traffic (and there usually is), you’ll pay a premium. If the taxi driver uses his meter, look to the sky and thank the deity of choosing. I am exaggerating a bit here, but this is the single most common scam I have encountered in all my travels to Malaysia.

Hopefully this has peaked your interest in Malaysia a bit. It’s a great place to visit and I think some growth in tourism will help it to make even more improvements. I’m sure I’ll be back there sooner or later… maybe I’ll see you there. Check for me in the Havana Club. :)

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