Arabian Coffee-fuelled Post

So I was out with the family earlier to Bukit Bintang. Haven't been out like that for a while, seeing as how I've been in the jungle for a month and a half straight. So it was pretty nice, having dinner together again.

So it was Arabian food night, and we scoured the land for shawarmas (Google it), finally finding some in a little hideaway restaurant near Pavilion. I kid you not, that place is like... A Lebanese mafia hangout or something. You've got these big Lebanese dudes hanging out in groups outside the restaurant smoking cigarettes with their shirts unbuttoned down to the third button, and their chest hair showing and when they catch you staring at them they stare back really scarily and you kick yourself for staring and you just go in and order your damn meal.

We managed to finish dinner without getting shot or beaten up.

The shawarmas were pretty good, though.

So what now?

Coffee?

Coffee.

Now we wanted coffee.

Where to go, where to go.

Starbs?

Nah, says Dad. Let's go find some authentic caffeine. How about we look for Arabian coffee?

I traded unsure looks with my siblings.

Arabian coffee?

We walked around for fifteen minutes. We found a coffeeshop that sold some. We ordered. They got it wrong the first time (We said COFFEE, not TEA! No, COFFEE! C-O-.. No, KOPI! KOPI!! Yes! KOPI! *'drink coffee' motion*), but it eventually arrived. In a medieval torture device.

Fig 1: Medieval torture device masquerading as a coffee pot.

Off-balance but undaunted, my intrepid father poured us each a cup of the cinnamon-scented, spicy liquid.

Fig 2: Arabian Coffee

This is a cup of Arabian coffee. Yes. Coffee. Not used dishwashing liquid. Coffee. From coffee beans. Spicy, hot and uber-caffeinated, all in a convenient shot-glass size measure. I looked at my family members uneasily. The looked back, waiting for someone to take the lead. Oh, hell. I picked the cup up with a finger and thumb. I swirled the liquid around, watching it. This was weird. Coffee's supposed to smell like coffee. It's supposed to have sugar, and milk, and occasionally vanilla. The Arabian coffee watched me back. Screw you, biatch.

I downed it. It tasted a bit like a really watered down Maggi Hot Cup Kari broth.

Two seconds later, it went straight to my head. Holy crap. It felt like a muscle in my head was reallllly tense, but it wasn't painful. It was. I dunno. Tight.


We finished the pot in about ten minutes (how?, now that I look back) and left.



I saw this on the way back on a wall in Masjid Jamek.

Fig 3: Aww. He wuvs Vadal's ideas.

Silly rempits. = D

Also, the above launched my mum (not coincidentally an English teacher) into a 15 minute lecture on why education in English is so important. Apparently of you wanna 'vadalise', 'vadalise' correctly. Go figure. Haha.

Til next time.


P.s Okay, I know the quality of the above pictures were crap-tacular, and I now fully realise the neccessity of a decent camera phone. Effing 1.3 megapixels. My 60 ringgit webcam has better resolution. *mutters darkly under breath*