Ramen, and the Rest of It

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoA sunny start, which after the week's steady grey felt like the city had remembered it had another setting. Everything looked better lit. It's remarkable how much of a mood is simply a question of what the light is doing.

Anita was out with friends today — a continuation of the birthday, which has by now stretched comfortably into its own small season. I approve of this entirely. A single evening never seems quite adequate, and she has the sort of friends who treat a birthday as a standing invitation rather than a fixed appointment.

Once the morning's work was behind me, I drove straight to Bukit Bintang. No particular reason beyond wanting to be somewhere with people in it. Ramen for lunch, which is a decision I make roughly once a fortnight and have never once regretted. There's something restorative about a bowl that demands your full attention — you can't check anything, can't half-do it, you simply sit there and get on with the business of eating. Twenty minutes of enforced presence, delivered by broth.

Afterwards, a short walk around the area, mostly to let the ramen settle and partly because it seemed a waste to leave immediately. Bukit Bintang in the early afternoon is a strange, pleasant thing — half the crowd is tourists moving slowly with their heads up, the other half is people who work there moving quickly with their heads down, and the two streams flow through one another without much friction. I walked without a destination, which I do far too rarely, and noticed several things I've driven past a hundred times without seeing.

Physio in the late afternoon. Necessary, useful, and conducted in that brisk, unsentimental manner these sessions have, where you're praised for something you didn't know you were doing and corrected on something you were certain you'd mastered. I came out feeling loosened and mildly humbled, which is presumably the intention.

Dinner at Bangsar Village, alone, and unexpectedly enjoyable for it. Eating on your own has a bad reputation it doesn't deserve. Nobody to consult about the order, nobody's pace to match, and a perfectly good excuse to watch the room. Bangsar on a bright evening is good watching: the shopping-bag brigade, a few families negotiating with children, the usual cast of people who appear to have been sitting at the same table since noon.

Then home, and prep for tomorrow's talks. That's the part of the day that always takes longer than the estimate, because the material never behaves the way it did in your head. You read through what you've prepared and find the joins, the bit that doesn't quite lead into the next bit, the slide that seemed clever on Tuesday and now seems merely busy. I got it into decent shape. Not perfect — nothing is, the night before — but decent.

Tomorrow will be a talking sort of day. Tonight was a walking, eating, stretching sort of day, and that seems a fair way to have earned it.

A Rearranged Sunday

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoSundays have their own liturgy, and mine began, as it usually does, with football — though today's offering was more passable than gripping, the kind of match you watch out of habit rather than genuine appetite, coffee doing more of the entertaining than the game itself.

Ward round followed, and mercifully it was a smooth one — everything in its place, nothing that demanded more than the usual attention. A good ward round has a way of setting up the rest of the day nicely, like a well-tuned instrument before the concert actually starts.

The concert, in this case, was meant to be a photowalk, plans already half-formed in my head for wherever the light looked best. Dayabumi had other ideas — car park closed, no explanation offered or particularly wanted, and just like that the whole itinerary needed rewriting on the spot. There's a specific irritation to a plan undone by something as mundane as a barrier and a padlock, though I've learned by now that photography days rarely survive first contact with the actual city.

Bukit Bintang absorbed the reshuffle happily enough. Ramen at Lot 10 for lunch, which did the job of resetting the morning's minor disappointment rather effectively — hot broth has a way of putting things back into perspective. From there, books at Starhill, a browse that needed no justification beyond its own quiet pleasure, and a stop for coffee where I tried a Kulai blend — fruity, interesting, and priced as though it knew exactly how fruity and interesting it was. Worth it, probably. I'll decide on the second cup.

Then the rain arrived, as it does in this city with theatrical suddenness, and the mall did what malls do best in such circumstances — became a holding pen for anyone without an umbrella or a plan. I wasn't fighting it. There are worse places to be marooned than somewhere with coffee, books, and air conditioning already accounted for. Anita, meanwhile, was over in Gombak, the day unfolding along two separate tracks that would eventually reconverge over dinner.

That reconvening happened at Ali Cafe, a meal that asked nothing complicated of either of us after a day of rearrangements and rain.

The evening closed on two very different registers. First, finally starting Star City, the For All Mankind spin-off I'd been meaning to get to for weeks — a quiet, unhurried way to ease into the evening. Then the rather more chaotic pleasure of the British Grand Prix, which delivered exactly the sort of late drama Silverstone does so well. Charles Leclerc took the win after the race finished under the safety car, a result that had rather more to do with late misfortune for others than dominant pace of his own, but a win is a win, and he'll not be troubled by the small print.

A day thoroughly rearranged from how it started, and none the worse for it.

A Sunday Without Its Steak

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A sunny start to the Sunday — KL doing that thing again where it remembers it's tropical and turns the brightness up to full. There's a particular quality to Sunday sunshine that weekday sunshine simply doesn't have. Same sun, different posture. Less demanding.

Rounds went smoothly, mercifully brief. Sunday rounds have their own rhythm — quieter corridors, fewer interruptions, everyone moving at a slightly more humane pace. By the time I was done, the day still had most of itself to give.

Which I duly spent at Low Yat, on a mission for a charger and a USB dock. There's a particular pleasure in wandering Low Yat with a specific list — it gives the place a shape it doesn't otherwise have. Without a mission, it's a labyrinth of cables and screens and salesmen pretending not to watch you. With one, it's a treasure hunt. Both items located, prices reasonable, the small satisfaction of crossing things off a list. A good morning's work.

Lunch was ramen at Kagura Tokyo in Lot 10. The kind of meal that suits a sunny solo Sunday — sit at the counter, watch the steam curl up, eat with proper attention. Ramen rewards focus. Eat it distracted and you've missed the point. I gave it the attention it deserved.

A wander through Pavilion afterwards. Relatively quiet for a Sunday, which was a small mercy — none of the usual weekend density, just enough people to make it feel alive without making it feel like a contest. I drifted rather than shopped. Sometimes that's the better way.

Anita was out with her friends, which meant the afternoon belonged to me and a few quiet domestic tasks. Some cleaning, nothing heroic — the sort of tidying that creates the illusion of productivity while requiring almost no thought. The house seemed pleased about it, in its way. There's something restful about an afternoon spent indoors with no particular destination, the windows open, the day moving past at its own speed.

A small departure from the usual: no steak cooking tonight. Sundays have built themselves a tradition around steak in this house, and breaking it once in a while feels almost transgressive. But traditions need the occasional pause to keep their meaning. The cast iron pan gets a night off.

The sunset, though — the sunset earned its keep. One of those proper KL sunsets that takes the sky through every shade of orange and pink before settling into a soft, lingering blue. The balcony was the only sensible place to be. I obliged.

And now, with the evening settling in, attention turns to Old Trafford. United's last home game of the season tonight. More poignantly, Casemiro's last appearance there. There's a particular weight to these farewell matches — the sense of a chapter closing, the crowd preparing for something they'll only fully feel in retrospect. He's given the place a great deal. The least one can do is watch.

A good Sunday, all told. Even without the steak.

The Third Floor Cafe

Big books. And good coffee. On a Sunday afternoon. Sounds like a perfect way to end the week.

That was what I had earlier today when I ventured to Isetan at Lot 10 as I got a spare couple of hours. The initial plan was to see a 3D printing demonstration but I realised that the timing was not right. I had to be back home before the program started. So, the hour sipping coffee and browsing books at the third floor at the Isetan store sounded fine to me.

Just in case you were so enamoured and wanted to go to Japan straight away, there was also a travel agent on the same floorIt was rather difficult to term the place. Was it a cafe with books, or a cafe at a bookstore. Seemed like most people were doing a bit of both. The coffee was OK, not the best in town, but the books there were something else especially when you venture towards the travel books section. Great material, in heavy minded volumes. The books on urban landscapes and street photography definitely tickled my fancy as lately I found those to be the kind of photography I like - or more like the only photography my schedule allowed me to do plenty of.

I decided against buying the books as I had to trek back to another store where I parked my car and I had a couple of stops in between. Maybe I would come back to buy some books. It would complement the volume I had in my living room nicely.

The cafe counter

Apart from the cafe and books, the third floor were also dedicated to workshops for origami as well as all things Japanese. Take that day for instance, there was a Japanese artist who came to do a demo on 3D glass printing. There were more activities laid out for the rest of the year - which you had to enrol and pay for of course. I might just bring Idlan there one of these days if the event was right ... he loved origami.

Lot 10 hosted - and still hosts - the first Isetan Store in Malaysia. There were a few others now but the one in Lot 10 had been renovated into what was termed a “Japanese Concept Store”. It had ample space with plenty of room to browse around. There were no items cluttering the walkways and it did not have the typical “pushy” salesperson common in KL. You can just walk around without being bothered. Definitely a place worth visiting ....

Isetan Lot 10

This place is neat. A piece of Japan in the middle of KL. Bukit Bintang to be specific.

I managed to get home earlier than usual last Tuesday and I decided to ask Anita for an afternoon out. This time it was slightly different. I took her on the new MRT, after sampling it myself for the first time earlier last weekend.

We parked at NU Sentral as I usually do, took the MRT and came out of the station right in front of Lot 10. I told Anita that there had been some major renovations going on there and the new Isetan at Lot 10 had been completely transformed.

Some nice lighting on the top floorThose were killer macarons Time to explore Anita was skeptical at first. But it didn't take long for the place to win her over. The Lower Ground floor where all the food were left the biggest impression on her. I was more into the the "workspace cubicles" on the third floor. They had a nice little care with some really cracking books around there.

Let's start with the food as I felt that the cubicles deserved a separate entry. Most of the items were rules in especially. The cakes were luxurious and really tummy, although very costly. Anita bought to slices and even before we left the store, those had gone through her mouth. They were that good.

There were a number of sushi bars there as well. We didn't try them as we were not sure if they were halal. Plus it was still too early for dinner. We had a good look around. The Waugh beef specially imported in .... those scrumptious cookies and short cakes! Too many temptations.

Really wished that I could spend more time there. Maybe sample a cuisine or two. But not today ... Many more floors to explore ...