I stole my title from Malaysia’s marketing for tourism. No shame.
I’m from Georgia–specifically Southern Georgia. We, as a whole, pride ourselves on the intricacies of good fried chicken (Buckners, in Barnesville!). So imagine my surprise when the best fried chicken I have ever had is at a restaurant in Shah Alam, Malaysia, that is attached to the side of a mall. This place doesn’t exactly scream gourmet–it screams something along the lines of ‘I’m going to get food poisoning’. However, you can get a plate of rice and spicy sauce and a piece of what I assume is curry-marinated fried chicken for 6 ringgits. Less if you smile pretty. (I am so serious about that.)
*6 ringgits is 2 dollars. Clearly we are dining at a high-end establishment.
Beyond the chicken and rice that I have eaten at least eight times since I’ve been here, and the bottled water that is CLEARLY labeled ‘Air’, I have never felt so out of place. I do not wear a headcovering or sleeves to my wrist, and I am the wrong color. Not in a bad way, just in a way that has made everyone I speak to ask me where I am from. This encounter inevitably ends with “You like Malaysia, yes?”, and I obligingly smile charmingly as I assure them I do indeed love it here. And I do..what I have seen anyways.
I work here, so I’m not sight-seeing. How much do you ‘sight-see’ during the week in your town? There are plans in the works to change that soon, but for now I’m content with my daily travels across a four lane road to the mall for fried chicken and spicy rice.