KL is not just malls and swimming pools...

There is also eating. Which we did.

At the mall.

Well, the mall did open up onto a great park with fountains and whatnot, and it was a gathering place for lots of foreigners and Malaysians alike. Abutting the mall were a number of restaurants with nice patios, so we picked one one night and enjoyed a mediocre meal (except for MB's calzone, which was quite tasty) and a nice ambiance.



Night two, and we were feeling a little sheepish about our lack of motivation to move out of line of sight of the hotel. So we bagged the plans to eat at Pacifica, a 'trans-ethnic' (wha???) restaurant in the Mandarin that gets good reviews all around and headed out into the scary non-Mandarin Oriental part of KL to eat at the Coliseum Cafe, an old, colonial era hotel with a restaurant notable for steak, and, as we found out, a waitstaff that speaks indecipherable, unintelligible english, one of whose name was Captain Morgan, according to his nametag. Malaysia is known for piracy, you know...



The place had charm, the white linen tablecloths had stains, and the diners had bibs. I don't know if the waiter just had a hunch that we'd need them, or if everyone who orders the 'sizzling steak' gets one. I didn't look to see whether other diners were similarly attired.

I was certainly happy to have the extra layer of defense against spills. After all, I was wearing the requisite colonial uniform of white linen.


Turner was less giddy about the whole bib thing. Or maybe he was treating the pomp and ceremony of the bib tying with the serious and somber attitude that it deserved. Then again, maybe he's just naturally surly.