I have finally resigned myself to the fact that my climbing shoes have had it. This is the first pair I have ever had, in twenty six years of climbing, that have gone at the heel and not the toe. Each time I have worn them this year they have become a little more deformed until the sole projects a full inch beyond my foot. This isn’t my main reason for consigning them to the bin in Camp 5 though, for that would be the smell. They have stunk, on and off, since I bought them, but this summer the smell has got gradually worse. I have been keeping them in an airtight bag so they don’t contaminate the rest of my gear. This hasn’t helped. They smelled so bad today at Camp 5 that they were offending me, even whilst I was climbing. I am surprised that they didn’t ask me to leave.
I came by train and taxi. “Meter plus two ringgit?” said the driver. From Kelana Jaya to 1 Utama, the going rate is about MR8.50, so that didn’t sound too bad. Somehow though, he managed to fiddle the meter -- MR17.50 and he didn’t even drop me at the right side of the road. I was fuming.
Climbing was good. I felt to be strong and moving well. The bouldering area is so steep here though that I quickly lose power. At the end of the session I thought I would do a hundred pull-ups but only managed 48. Of course I could just be out of practice.
On the return journey I managed to catch a taxi in the third lane of the highway -- the traffic was moving that slowly. The young Malay driver was desperate to go to England where he believed that he could make his fortune. He took me to Kelana Jaya and charged me exactly what it said on the meter -- MR6.70
I saw A Samad Said, perhaps the greatest living Malaysian novelist and poet, in Books Kinokunya. He looked very old. I wanted to talk to him, but couldn’t think of anything to say, and as I haven’t read any of his work for at least 8 years, was unable to compliment him on his latest writing.
I had a small panick this morning. My watch said it was the 30th, but the newspaper said it was the 26th and my telephone the 31st. It would be most inconvenient to miss my flights.
I came by train and taxi. “Meter plus two ringgit?” said the driver. From Kelana Jaya to 1 Utama, the going rate is about MR8.50, so that didn’t sound too bad. Somehow though, he managed to fiddle the meter -- MR17.50 and he didn’t even drop me at the right side of the road. I was fuming.
Climbing was good. I felt to be strong and moving well. The bouldering area is so steep here though that I quickly lose power. At the end of the session I thought I would do a hundred pull-ups but only managed 48. Of course I could just be out of practice.
On the return journey I managed to catch a taxi in the third lane of the highway -- the traffic was moving that slowly. The young Malay driver was desperate to go to England where he believed that he could make his fortune. He took me to Kelana Jaya and charged me exactly what it said on the meter -- MR6.70
I saw A Samad Said, perhaps the greatest living Malaysian novelist and poet, in Books Kinokunya. He looked very old. I wanted to talk to him, but couldn’t think of anything to say, and as I haven’t read any of his work for at least 8 years, was unable to compliment him on his latest writing.
I had a small panick this morning. My watch said it was the 30th, but the newspaper said it was the 26th and my telephone the 31st. It would be most inconvenient to miss my flights.
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