Galleria

Late morn too the Nepali guard in the chair by the Money-changer at the entry nodding off like a baby. Fellow had missed both the British Gurkha in-take and then the second level Singaporean immediately below, easy to see why. Along the passage beyond KFC and Dunkin the beautiful young Malay girl in her scarf and uniform wheeling her rubbish trolly without the slightest inkling of her loveliness. My Fair Lady easy flipped. Each morning on her rounds the lass kept close to the walls in order to give the shoppers the widest berth. (Do her chances in the lottery improve by her loveliness, or worsen? Hard not to worry for her.) This morning the deep intake of breath at the leather goods stand had been a little late, the pungency of the treated hides flooding the lungs bad. You needed two metres in advance and a long draught in order to make the clearance of the same length on the other side. Opposite the Info stand what was it called now? Secret Recipe KAFE. There were no hard feelings; no complaints had been made at the time. Not a great secret either: it was the ayam, the chicken that gave all the flavour to their Caesar there. Without it, for a vegetarian, what did they have? Lettuce,  croutons of a sort and diced hard boiled egg. The nervous lad serving had asked whether the dressing would be alright, leading to some confusion over “olive oil.” (Fat chance.) Perhaps it was best to put it on the side?... Good idea. “Wifi problem,” the lad smilingly confessed, rather too broad for apology, but no doubting the innocence. With the unexpectedly tasty minestreafter such a long stretch—a dish that brought back Sisto hacked down in the street by the wild Somali in Melbourne—RM6. Clearly short of $AUS2.

              

Galleria Mall opposite the Gurdwara, JB old town, Malaysia