Touch-down to hotel, a journey many travelers can relate to.

Walking, what seemed like kilometres through the Kuala Lumpur International Terminal, then through customs, and out onto the sweltering streets on dusk to board the air-conditioned bus destined for the city centre. My face glued to the cool window, peering out towards the bright lights and tall towers, watching the ease of traffic along the purposefully designed roads. Soon enough, the bus had arrived at Sentral station. Walking through the station was chaotic, people darting off in every direction, even escalators were bustling with people anticipating their next move. I followed signage throughout the station to the taxi zone, it was a direct path cutting through the centre of it all. All the while sifting through thoughts as to whether it was KL or Delhi I had been strongly advised against using prepaid taxis in… I looked around to seek local advice; although the few English speaking people I found to strike up convo with, had no light to shed on the situation. It appeared to be my only choice, so I committed to a token and climbed into a taxi.

Immediately, the driver turned to me to ask in broken English where I’m destined for, I gave him the address; which, didn’t appear to register, so again he turns to me and asks what could have meant, for me to direct him. He had no idea. I knew it wasn’t far, but I didn’t have maps working, and knew I wouldn’t be of much help. I provided him with a number to which he can call the hotel directly and ask directions; he calls and sets off. I see him nod a few times but turns to me and says what I understood to be “I-go-back”, and I pointlessly try to persuade him to continue on towards the hotel, although he wouldn’t have understood a word of my English dribble. I then see a few buildings I recognised from the drive into the bus station, so I say “are we going back? I don’t want to go back” and this driver is looking at me confused as anything – nodding, then shaking his head, all the while saying those three dreaded words “I-go-back”.

These situations, filled with confusion, frustration and misunderstanding really ignite a feeling of wanderlust; the simplistic beauty of travel. It helps me comprehend early explorers touching down on foreign soil; two cultures engaging through sign and body language to bridge a common understanding. This situation evoked the eloquence of hand gestures, shy smiles, yet the bridge gapped at the centre of comprehension between one-another.

Or maybe it was just me.

We rounded this corner and he points ahead, low and behold, there stands the beautiful Georgian style architecture of my hotel, I then notice a building towering above, sitting adjacent to my hotel, a sign coining the top few floors of the glass paneled build, reading “Argo Bank”. All those feelings of uncertainty dissipated, as I registered the true meaning of I-go-back.