Kuala Lumpur is giving me writer’s block. It could be that my creative juices aren’t flowing because I’m dehydrated. This city is hot; hot from the swarms of people on their way to or from somewhere, hot from all the traffic moving those same people, hot because of its proximity to the equator and therefore the scorching sun. Maybe I’m having a hard time finding words because I’m tired; this city never sleeps. Instead of the roaring wind, crashing waves, or the night time song of small creatures I fall asleep to the lullaby of trains and traffic and the techno beats of nearby street vendors. Every morning I wake up to the same symphony renewed with added honks and voices. Maybe words are slow to come because I’m in a country that makes communication confusing. Everywhere I go I hear English, Chinese, Malay and a variety of Indian dialects. When I asked someone how to predict which language to speak when talking to someone they replied, “look at their face” but everyone speaks a little of everyone else’s language too. In the end I think that my writer’s block comes from the understanding that my words will never be able to capture the essence or heart of this city in all of its complexity, diversity, and contradiction. When roaming around this city I feel unaffected by it (and its penchant for shopping malls) but I have a sneaking suspicion that it won’t be until after I leave KL that I will realize how affected I have been by it…and that will be when the words will come.