Solo Travel ... Part 6

 

After stepping out of the monorail in Bukit Bintang, I was completely stunned.

The lights, the sounds, the blend of cultures—it felt like the city was wide awake, buzzing with life and flavor. Restaurants from every corner of the world lined the streets, and I was ready for my first real night out in Kuala Lumpur.

I called my Indonesian friend, and she told me they were at Damascus, a popular Syrian restaurant famous for its shawarma and Middle Eastern dishes. I made my way through the crowd and spotted her in a long line outside the glowing red sign of Damascus. She introduced me to her friends—an amazing group of Indonesians and Malaysians, and lucky for me, they were all solo travelers too.

Since we had time to wait, I took a quick walk to exchange some money. It was easy, fast, and I felt completely safe. By the time I came back, we were almost at the door.

Inside, the menu felt very familiar—just like any Jordanian shawarma spot—but I couldn’t help but notice that the prices were a bit high for such casual food. Still, we ordered, found a seat, and started sharing stories while waiting.

That’s when it hit me: I had found my people.

They gave me tips for getting around Malaysia, what to avoid, and which hidden spots to explore. The food came—small portions, but honestly, so flavorful. The kind of comfort food that makes you feel at home, even on the other side of the world.

And then came the surprise: they insisted on paying the bill.

I refused, of course—but they were sweet and firm. I was touched. These people barely knew me, but their kindness made me feel s afe and seen.

After dinner, they offered to walk me to Pavilion Kuala Lumpur, one of the city’s most luxurious and well-known malls.

Pavilion KL is known for its high-end brands, glowing modern design, and stunning entrance display. It’s not just a mall—it’s a whole experience, especially at night with all the lights and open-air vibes.

Unfortunately, we arrived just before closing time. In Malaysia, most shops close by 10 PM, except for some Arabic restaurants and a few night spots. So we didn’t have time to explore, but we snapped some fun photos outside and kept the night going.

One of my new friends said the night market wasn’t far—and they were right. We walked about 10 minutes. As we approached, the street filled with a strange but oddly comforting smell: a mix of humidity, spices, fried snacks, and something I couldn’t quite place.

The night market was a narrow street packed with food stalls, juice bars, and mysterious tropical fruits I’d never seen before. I tried a mango and dragon fruit smoothie—the mango was perfectly sweet, but the dragon fruit? Not much flavor, honestly.

They tried to convince me to try durian (the king of fruits in Southeast Asia), but I just couldn’t do it. The smell alone had me shaking my head!

Suddenly, one of them checked the time—it was past midnight, and the monorail had already closed. They told me, “Never take a regular taxi—always Grab.” One of the guys kindly offered to ride with me to make sure I got back to my hotel safely.

When I arrived, I asked the receptionist if I could upgrade my room, even if I had to pay more. That’s when I met Farid—a kind and helpful staff member. He upgraded me to a bigger room at no extra charge, and even helped carry my luggage. His warmth made such a difference.

When I opened the door to my new room, I finally felt it: relief, gratitude, and joy.

My solo travel dream wasn’t just happening—it was going perfectly.