Here’s what happened:
I stayed at a chain hotel at the airport when I arrived in Kuala Lumpur. I knew I was staying at the chain’s downtown version of their hotel the next day so I asked the receptionist at the hotel how to get there. She was quite helpful: she gave me a map and explained that I would just take the bus to the monorail and take the burgundy line to the stop she had circled on the map.
“And how do I get from the stop to the hotel?” I asked.
“You will see it,” she said. “Big and red and white,” she explained, and smiled.
So, I got on my bus, navigated my way to the monorail, and looked out the window for the big hotel as we approached the stop. It was nowhere to be seen. When I got off at the stop, I didn’t know which way to go so I walked up to the station agent and said “Tune Hotel?” From inside her kiosk, she stretched her arm out to the right, pointed, and smiled. I thanked her and happily walked down the steps on her right. At the foot of the steps, I looked around for the big hotel and saw nothing but shops and skyscrapers. I walked to the end of the block and looked around once more: still no hotel... and that’s when I got mad. I pictured this woman's outstretched arm and pointing finger, which minutes before I had been extremely grateful for, and wanted to say to her: "You know what? Your arm stretching and your pointing, they do nothing for me. You may have pointed me here but now I have to figure out where the hotel is and you didn’t help me with that at all.”
I considered going back to ask for more direction but I was
pretty sure that with the language barrier, she wouldn’t actually be able to
help me any more than she had. At that point, I had no choice but to keep
walking, so I did. I crossed the street and walked down the sidewalk. About
halfway down the sidewalk, I looked to my right and saw: A huge hotel, big and red and white, and completely unavoidable from this side of the street.
And that’s when I decided that the station agent had actually given me the direction that I needed, but I had to do some work myself. The station agent knew that if I kept walking to the right, I’d see the hotel eventually. I however, couldn't see this until I actually was willing to follow her directions, to actually get to the place where I could finally see the hotel.
It was a good lesson, but it didn’t stick.
When I got to the hotel, it was too early to check in so I decided to go to the bus station to buy my ticket for my next day’s trip to Johar Bahru. I took the monorail to the bus station but once I got there, didn’t see any ticket booths. I approached the woman at the information kiosk and said “Ticket to JB?” She handed me a piece of paper that said that all southbound buses leave from the other terminal. I thanked her but then decided that she hadn’t understood me, that she thought I was asking where to catch the bus, not where to buy the ticket.
So I ignored her advice and walked around until I saw a sign, pointing up the stairs, that said “ticket agents.” I walked upstairs to find an entire floor filled with ticket booths and felt relieved that I had not gone to the other station. But as I walked around, I noticed that none of the buses said JB. Then a man approached me, asked me where I was going and when I said JB, directed me to a ticket booth. I bought a ticket for the latest bus I could get-11:30- and the lady told me to come back to her tomorrow, at 11.
The next day, I decided to get to the station early. I figured that if I had to get from where I picked up my ticket to that other station, getting there at 11 might not be enough time. As I waited for the monorail to take me to the bus station, a local woman approached me, asked where I was going, and explained that I should go to the other station, that the station I was going to was only for the northbound buses. I began to get a little worried about my bus ticket, the people who sold it to me, and whether or not I had articulated where I was going. But I had no choice, my ticket was at the northbound station, so I went there.
I approached the kiosk, the woman gave me my ticket and said “Platform 22, downstairs, leave at 10:30.” I slowly walked toward platform 22, confused as to why the bus was leaving from this station when it was a southbound bus. I scanned the monitors to confirm that platform 22 was going to JB: there wasn't even a 22 on the monitor. When I got to platform 22, the doors were closed and no one was there.
"See?" I thought. "She doesn't know what she's talking about. There isn't even a way for me to get to platform 22..."
"JB?" a man interrupted the tirade inside my head.
'Yes!" I said in surprise. I spied a walkie- talkie in his hand. He said something in another language and I heard the woman's voice reply.
"Follow me," he said as he lead me toward the top of an escalator.
"Oh yay!" I thought to myself. "Platform 22 wasn't a place, it was a man and the lady upstairs told him to wait for me and now he is helping me."
"You see my friend in red and white?" he asked as he pointed to man, standing on the corner, wearing a red shirt and a white cap.
"Yes!" I said excitedly.
"You go to him," he said and pointed again.
I was in heaven as I walked down the escalator and the man in red waved at me. "This is so nice," I thought, "I'm being shuttled between all of these people, helping me to get to my bus."
When I got to the man in red he said, "You see my friend in blue?" and pointed to a man in a purple shirt, standing across the street.
"Yes," I answered, familiar now with this routine, and began to walk toward him.
"Wait!" the man said, and pointed to the oncoming traffic. I stepped back on to the sidewalk. "Okay, now you go," he said and I cautiously crossed the street.
The man in purple took my ticket and directed me to where a bunch of other people were sitting, on a curb, next to dumpsters and parked motorcycles. It appeared to be a corridor between a parking lot and the main road.
"Bummer," I thought. "This doesn't feel so good anymore. I think I'm on the shady-bus to JB. I wonder if it's going to be a mini-van or a school bus or some vehicle without air conditioning." As I sat down on the dirty curb in the hot sun with all these other people who had been roped in to this scheme I imagined the air conditioning of the southbound bus station, I imagined the snacks in the waiting area, I pictured that darn piece of paper that the woman had given me when I initially asked for help: GO TO THE OTHER BUS STATION. And that's when I learned the lesson. If I had just let that first person help me, if I had actually followed her advice, trusted her to help me, I'd be in a plush bus station waiting for a nice air conditioned bus that I knew for sure was going to JB.
But I wasn't. Instead, I waited on the curb with everyone else for about 45 minutes. But when the man came and directed us to a dirty parking lot, I actually let him help me. I followed him, through another alleyway which lead to the bus, which was air conditioned, and got me to JB.
And that’s when I decided that the station agent had actually given me the direction that I needed, but I had to do some work myself. The station agent knew that if I kept walking to the right, I’d see the hotel eventually. I however, couldn't see this until I actually was willing to follow her directions, to actually get to the place where I could finally see the hotel.
It was a good lesson, but it didn’t stick.
When I got to the hotel, it was too early to check in so I decided to go to the bus station to buy my ticket for my next day’s trip to Johar Bahru. I took the monorail to the bus station but once I got there, didn’t see any ticket booths. I approached the woman at the information kiosk and said “Ticket to JB?” She handed me a piece of paper that said that all southbound buses leave from the other terminal. I thanked her but then decided that she hadn’t understood me, that she thought I was asking where to catch the bus, not where to buy the ticket.
So I ignored her advice and walked around until I saw a sign, pointing up the stairs, that said “ticket agents.” I walked upstairs to find an entire floor filled with ticket booths and felt relieved that I had not gone to the other station. But as I walked around, I noticed that none of the buses said JB. Then a man approached me, asked me where I was going and when I said JB, directed me to a ticket booth. I bought a ticket for the latest bus I could get-11:30- and the lady told me to come back to her tomorrow, at 11.
The next day, I decided to get to the station early. I figured that if I had to get from where I picked up my ticket to that other station, getting there at 11 might not be enough time. As I waited for the monorail to take me to the bus station, a local woman approached me, asked where I was going, and explained that I should go to the other station, that the station I was going to was only for the northbound buses. I began to get a little worried about my bus ticket, the people who sold it to me, and whether or not I had articulated where I was going. But I had no choice, my ticket was at the northbound station, so I went there.
I approached the kiosk, the woman gave me my ticket and said “Platform 22, downstairs, leave at 10:30.” I slowly walked toward platform 22, confused as to why the bus was leaving from this station when it was a southbound bus. I scanned the monitors to confirm that platform 22 was going to JB: there wasn't even a 22 on the monitor. When I got to platform 22, the doors were closed and no one was there.
"See?" I thought. "She doesn't know what she's talking about. There isn't even a way for me to get to platform 22..."
"JB?" a man interrupted the tirade inside my head.
'Yes!" I said in surprise. I spied a walkie- talkie in his hand. He said something in another language and I heard the woman's voice reply.
"Follow me," he said as he lead me toward the top of an escalator.
"Oh yay!" I thought to myself. "Platform 22 wasn't a place, it was a man and the lady upstairs told him to wait for me and now he is helping me."
"You see my friend in red and white?" he asked as he pointed to man, standing on the corner, wearing a red shirt and a white cap.
"Yes!" I said excitedly.
"You go to him," he said and pointed again.
I was in heaven as I walked down the escalator and the man in red waved at me. "This is so nice," I thought, "I'm being shuttled between all of these people, helping me to get to my bus."
When I got to the man in red he said, "You see my friend in blue?" and pointed to a man in a purple shirt, standing across the street.
"Yes," I answered, familiar now with this routine, and began to walk toward him.
"Wait!" the man said, and pointed to the oncoming traffic. I stepped back on to the sidewalk. "Okay, now you go," he said and I cautiously crossed the street.
The man in purple took my ticket and directed me to where a bunch of other people were sitting, on a curb, next to dumpsters and parked motorcycles. It appeared to be a corridor between a parking lot and the main road.
"Bummer," I thought. "This doesn't feel so good anymore. I think I'm on the shady-bus to JB. I wonder if it's going to be a mini-van or a school bus or some vehicle without air conditioning." As I sat down on the dirty curb in the hot sun with all these other people who had been roped in to this scheme I imagined the air conditioning of the southbound bus station, I imagined the snacks in the waiting area, I pictured that darn piece of paper that the woman had given me when I initially asked for help: GO TO THE OTHER BUS STATION. And that's when I learned the lesson. If I had just let that first person help me, if I had actually followed her advice, trusted her to help me, I'd be in a plush bus station waiting for a nice air conditioned bus that I knew for sure was going to JB.
But I wasn't. Instead, I waited on the curb with everyone else for about 45 minutes. But when the man came and directed us to a dirty parking lot, I actually let him help me. I followed him, through another alleyway which lead to the bus, which was air conditioned, and got me to JB.
"'Bummer,' I thought. 'This doesn't feel so good anymore. I think I'm on the shady-bus to JB.'" ... haha, you are too funny!
ReplyDeleteoh my goodness, that totally brings back memories of me traveling. I love though how the experience is so humbling, in my case I felt so dumbfounded sometimes, like where do I go, how do I get there...I need help!...someone. and you have to depend on people...and it was often so touching how much they were willing to help. I love how it's contagious too. and how much you have to trust in others goodness. thanks for the post, I'll take it with me during the week ;)