My last night in Malaysia, and what did I do? Listened to some great live jazz, hung out with friends, drank a few glasses of white wine and had a night-time driving tour of Kuala Lumpur.

As you do. When it’s your last night in Malaysia.

I went a little snap-happy - even by my standards - tonight. Anyone who knows me, or knows the sort of pictures I like to take, will know that a fancy schmancy hotel lobby by night, and a city by night, are like a red rag to my photographic bull. A few examples:

As on my last gig, I wore my new Posh Frock (pearl bracelets a present from A’s recent trip to Hanoi):

It was great to meet K, and to hear her and her trio. They play in the high-ceilinged, rather vast, lobby lounge of the Hilton - so quite a different set up from mine, and much more like playing, say, The Dorchester every night. They also have a baby grand piano, of which I was envious, and a Saturday Night Fever-style floor, of which I was even more envious:

So there we sat, A and R (they should get together and work in A&R) and I, talking and listening to K and the band. I was particularly impressed by her ability to swing ‘Hello’ by Lionel Richie (go on, try it at home) and ‘Jump’ by Van Halen (ditto) - and particularly excited when she and the band did ‘On And On’ by Stephen Bishop, a song which I love and which has a huge sentimental attachment for me. It was all I could do to stop myself from leaping up on stage to singing backing harmonies with her. As it was, I did it from the comfort of my chair.

And then to our night-time tour of KL - for which A’s nephew played chauffeur, and A played GPS system. The Petronas Towers were pretty amazing, it has to be said. Very pretty, rather calming, skyscrapers… not unlike the Chrysler Building. If only there were two Chrysler Buildings. Side by side. And connected by a skywalk.

And then to bed. Or rather: to blog. And then soon, to bed. And in the meantime: the realisation that, sitting here in my dressing gown, with the skyline behind me, I have come full circle:

There could be no better way to end this trip than by spending my final night in the Hilton, Kuala Lumpur - in a room which couldn’t be more Lost In Translation if it tried (unless, of course, it was in the Park Hyatt in Tokyo). Here’s the view which greets you as you come out of the lift onto my floor:

- and yes, that is (those are?) the Petronas Towers you can just see there behind that skyscraper -

And here’s the view from my room right now, as dusk is falling:

Not too shabby, eh? Wait ’til you get a load of the room, too. It has a gorgeous deep bath (a bath! Bliss!), magazines in the toilet (well obviously not in the toilet, but you know what I mean) and a seat in the shower. Yes, I may just take a shower sitting down because I can.

T and C drove me all the way from Ipoh to the outskirts of KL - where, like a spy, I was handed over to R, T’s colleague (who was, appropriately enough, the very first person I met here at the airport two months ago). R brought me to the Hilton, and will be returning in a few hours to hang out avec moi for the evening. I’ve also just given A a call - my friend from Penang who spends most weekends in KL, and who is in town tonight. I’m going to be meeting both of them downstairs in the lobby bar (or ‘Cosmo Lounge’ as it’s called. Not sure why) because that’s where K, the jazz singer from Canada who’s working here for three months, and who I’ve been chatting to on IM, is performing. I’m also hoping to hook up with the manager here who emailed me some weeks ago about possibly doing the same gig… So, to paraphrase George Peppard: it looks like the plan is coming together .

I fly out at 6pm tomorrow; so hopefully will get to see some of KL during the day. Well, at least those famous Petronas Towers, which I’m dying to photograph; and quite possibly, hopefully, the Hilton’s outdoor swimming pool, too ;-).

I’ll write one last post - probably before I go to bed tonight - to round off the trip. Unless I have any sort of deep and meaningful and hugely insightful thoughts following that, of course (unlikely), in which case I’ll probably be blogging from the departure lounge of KL Airport. Either way, watch my Flickr page for more pictures of KL which I may not feature here.

Speaking of photographs: I’ve also added my final ones of Penang (including the street market), and ones of the stunning scenery on the drive down to KL, to Flickr (here, in a nutshell, is what Malaysia looks like):

And finally: for the curious amongst you, here is the famous, the wonderful T - his less famous but just as wonderful wife C, and their children H and N. Thank you so much again, guys, for everything. x

So, this afternoon, I sang at the Penang Street Market - sort of the monthly village fete, in which a street in Georgetown is taken over by stalls selling all manner of wonderful local arts and crafts, and there’s a marquee with live performances from local bands.

R had asked me to join him and his sons during their set; and it was a lot of fun, doing ‘Little Sunflower’ and ‘Route 66′ with the three of them, and then singing more songs with just R.

It was increeeeeeedibly hot and humid, and I was sweating buckets - always attractive, I find - but it was great to end my time in Penang this way. (Performing in Georgetown that is, not sweating buckets). And as I sang, and chatted to the crowd in between songs, it also made me realise how far I’ve come. Because I think I did a good job. Singing in the daytime, to a crowd of ‘regular’ people, suddenly seemed a little scary - it felt like I was performing at a festival - but I didn’t let my nerves get in the way. Instead, I let my inner, secretly confident performer persona come out (as I write that, I realise that it sounds strange: don’t most people have a secretly unconfident persona inside them?), and this persona is at once happy and secure in her ability to sing, and to communicate with people. She talks confidently, and sings well, and most importantly: cracks gags which people laugh at. It’s a strange mixture of being utterly, truly myself and yet simultaneously standing outside of myself, almost watching myself half-incredulously at how I’m being… and yet knowing that I’m being my true self. If that makes any sense. Maybe I’m just surprised at seeing myself being able to do that. Hmm.

After the market, T, C and I returned to the hotel, where I packed up my final bits and bobs, settled my bill (approximately 25% of which consisted, alarmingly, of one single phone call), and popped back into the jazz club to give E a few things which otherwise would have been thrown out, such as mosquito spray, suncream and honey (which pretty much sums up my time here). She was there rehearsing with one of her two (count ‘em!) trios; and so that involved me saying goodbye all over again to a few people, who were surprised to see me again after last night. I walked in shouting, “I’ve changed my mind!”.

And then, T and C drove us to Ipoh - and I sit here in their family home writing this at silly o’clock, when I really should be in bed. T is a nightowl too, so after dinner at an Indian restaurant tonight we sat at his computer talking about life, the universe and everything (or at least: life, the universe and geniuses) and he talked me through the agency work which he wants me to get involved in when I’m back in London. All good stuff.

Earlier in the evening, I spent a fair amount of time hangin’ - and we were definitely hangin’ - with T and C’s seven-year-old daughter, H (they also have a very cute, very smiley, one year-something son). H is fantastic, and I may try to instigate a penpal-ship between her and my eight-year-old niece. Well, they both do ballet, and they’re both fans of High School Musical, so I think it could work out…

I did take some final photographs of Penang, and of T and C and co, today - but as it’s now half-past silly o’clock, I’ll wait til tomorrow to upload and link to them. Well, a secretly confident performer persona needs her inner beauty sleep, you know. Nighty night.

What a fantastic night.

A night of goodbyes and thank yous and hugs and real emotion; a night of life-enhancing music-making; a night which touched me so much, and which made me realise that I had touched others.

The trio played brilliantly; the set list was adapted as people requested songs; I introduced E to the audience as she joined me to sing harmonies on ‘Sentimental Journey’; and vocally, I sounded possibly the best I’ve ever sounded while I’ve been here (which might be: ever).

It was so much fun, and was made all the more special by the presence of friends who had come down for my last night, and by the sentiments I exchanged with them, and the people working in the club - the staff who have shared these nights here with me, night after night, for two months.

I brought them a ginormous chocolate cake to share, and they, very sweetly, gave me this:

- which is both funny, and touching.

I also gave L, D and Y a thank you present of two CDs each: one of a jazz musician who plays their instrument (Roy Haynes, Charlie Haden and Ruben Gonzalez - although the latter isn’t really jazz, admittedly), and the other a jazz vocal album I thought they’d like (Sarah Vaughan for D, Ella & Louis for Y and Cassandra Wilson for L). They all told me at various points in the evening how much they had enjoyed the past few months, and that they would miss me. I of course returned the compliment. And it was particularly heartfelt between L and me; we made a connection about what we were trying to achieve on these gigs, and I know how much he’s enjoyed it.

I took pictures of everyone - see on the right and here - although only realised at the end of the night that I omitted to get any photos of myself with the trio. Which makes me very sad; although in fact it was simply a case of this at work. Which is perhaps no bad thing . And that said, earlier in the day CC had dropped off a photo album he’d made of pictures he took of me and the trio on a gig this week - so heartfelt thanks again, CC. My other leaving present was from T2 and HH, who brought me some Chinese tea from their favourite tea shop on the island. “Do not drink with milk and sugar!” instructed HH, with a wag of her finger.

I had spread the word amongst the musicians I’ve met here that at the end of my set, it it would be fun to carry on the music-making, and turn it into a jazz jam; and sure enough, that’s what we did. D2 (San Francisco guy), CC, S and others got up to play, and I joined them for a few numbers. So much fun, and they sounded so great. I’m envious of E, working with these guys over the next few months.

As I said my goodbyes to everyone, so many sweet things were said. That I would be missed; that I was leaving Penang as a friend; that I’d done a great job - or as HH put it: “You did it. Mission accomplished!”. And there were so many thank yous, both from me and them. The people here have been remarkable; I’ve been shown such warmth and generosity and care, and of course it’s slightly heartbreaking to leave them just as really great friendships were beginning.

On stage, before my last number, I did my Oscars speech and thanked everyone; and said finally how important it was, what T and the hotel are trying to achieve here in setting up this jazz club, and how exciting it is that this great music now has a venue in Penang. And as the guys jammed at the end of the night, T2 - the music-loving American who lives here - said perhaps the most touching thing of anyone. I thanked him for everything, and he said: “No, thank you. Thank you for what you’ve brought to this place. I mean, just look,” he said, waving his hand towards the musicians playing on stage. “All this is happening because of you.”

Which is quite a thought. Thank you, Penang, for everything. It’s been an honour, and a true privilege, to have played here.

Lunch today was with M, the pianist/singer who I was put in touch with before I came out here. As I told him today, planning to meet up with someone, only to do it two months later, is very ‘London’. Who knew that life in sleepy Penang could be so similar?

M took me to a place in Georgetown which is a sort of souped-up (as it were) hawkers’ foodstall gathering. A cross between this place and a food court, I guess:

I ate great veggie curry, a pancake with peanuts, syrup and sweetcorn inside it - which tasted not unlike like Snickers, with sweetcorn - and ice kachang (sp?), a dessert which seems to consist of water, ice, milk and kidney beans (no, really) and which tastes of bubblegum. And which looks like this.

My favourite dish’s name - by which I mean favourite name, as opposed to favourite dish - in Malaysia remains this, however:

Although this comes a close second:

So that was lunch.

The gig tonight was… surprisingly low-key, in many ways. The band has an energy about them, and tonight it was… well, yes, low-key. Nothing very wrong with that; but I think I’ll do a different setlist for tomorrow night and make sure it’s pretty uptempo all the way.

The bar was half-full (as opposed to half-empty: that’s the kind of gal I am) and CC turned up with R, the jazz singer he performs with at another restaurant - who’s probably sixtysomething, and very glamorous, and sounds like Nancy Wilson. Not to talk to, you understand, but to hear sing (CC once played me a live recording of her at the Penang Jazz Festival). It was lovely to meet her, and a discussion on the Great American Songbook writers led to me lending her my book on the subject.

T2 and HH also came along tonight; as did T and C and E. As with me, they had picked E up at KL (OK, now this initial thing is getting *really* silly) and had driven her up here. It was really good to meet her, and she seems very nice. She quizzed me about how things were, and I filled her in, before she retired to bed; she’d barely slept on the flight. I told her about the benefits of remaining in jetlag, because it seamlessly becomes musicians’ hours, but she didn’t seem very convinced. And she also told me that she (and her boyfriend) had been reading my blog every day. So if you’re reading this back in Austria: gruess Gott! Sie ist sicher angekommen. (Can you tell my degree is in German?)

(The funny thing is, E even looks like me. Someone pointed her out, and there she was, a pale-skinned, dark pony-tailed, sweeping-fringed woman in the bar.)

As you can tell by the time this will be posted, I stayed up late after the gig. T had brought a couple of guys with him to do some filming; so they were shooting during the gig and afterwards interviewing me (on film) downstairs in the lobby. This ultimately led to being the place where we night owls hung out; and ultimately led to a big argument-slash-discussion on morals and rights and wrongs and, well… I won’t bore you with it here. Suffice it to say: I wish I’d had you with me, Peter or B or Rachel or Sarah, to back up my views against a vociferous Malaysian male ;-).

So now it’s 6am, I’ve just heard a Muslim prayer calling outside my window, and that must surely mean it’s time for bed. Not that I think that’s what they’re praying about… but hey, it works for me. Once again: night night, all.

JazzChantoozieitsJazzChantoozieturningthefinalbendandapproachingthefinish
line…yesitsJazzChantoozieJazzChantoozieleadingthefield…butwaitaminute…
whatsthis?…comingupbehindJazzChantoozieitsReplacementAustrianJazzFilly!
ReplacementAustrianJazzFillyisapproachingJazzChantoozie…shescatchingup
…butJazzChantoozieisstillinthelead…JazzChantoozieisleadingthefieldwith
ReplacementAustrianJazzFillyaclosesecond…myworditsalmostneckandneck…
willJazzChantooziefallatthefinalhurdle?

Hopefully not.

Actually, a better analogy than a horse-race would have been a relay, with me handing over the baton. But then I don’t think athletics commentators talk quite as fast as horse-racing commentators. So it would have been a bit boring, to write that commentary.

So, hey ho. Here I am, coming into the final straight, indeed.

I have a final rehearsal with the guys in a few hours - I want to make sure our final two performances are as good as they can be - and in the meantime, may start packing. Or more likely: do some gift-shopping. On Sunday I go back to Ipoh, where T and C live (funny, that looks like ‘Clive’. Her name isn’t Clive, though); and then on Monday I go to Kuala Lumpur - or KL as everyone calls it here - to spend my final night at the Hilton (the Hilton, I tell you!), before flying back on Tuesday, and landing in the UK on Wednesday.

It really hasn’t hit me that this time next week, I will be back home.

Partly because I’ve been hearing about the snow; and that makes it all the harder to imagine. How on earth am I going to top up my tan?! Tell me that!!

I’m already expecting it to feel very dream-like, this experience. That I will be sitting back home, in my little (probably cold) flat, and be thinking: “Did that really happen?”. I know what it’s like flitting between New York and London seeing B, having two lives; with each place, and the life lived in it, suddenly and abruptly seeming like a dim and distant memory - even though it may only have been 24 hours previously that I was there. And yet conversely, each time I’d return to the place, whether London or NY, it would feel like only five minutes since I was last there, even if many months had passed between visits.*

Clearly, man wasn’t meant to travel quite such distances quite so quickly. But then man also engineered planes, so go figure, evolution fans.

As for the Austrian Jazz Filly - yes, the new singer arrives (with T) today to pick up the microphone-shaped baton. Or rather, to pick it up on Tuesday, after I’ve gone. Although you never know, I may call her up on stage to do a duet tomorrow night.

E (for that is her initial) won’t be performing with the same trio as me; and I don’t know whether it was my suggestion or what T had planned anyway, but she’ll be singing with two different, alternating bands. This is a much better way to work it, as it’s hard to secure players for a six nights a week (they normally have other regular residencies which, understandably, they don’t want to give up for a two-month booking); and also, perhaps most importantly, it means that he can book the guys who are already playing, and know and love, jazz.

So… off to the shopping mall for final, final-gift buying. There just wasn’t enough utter tat and Michael Buble CDs at the street market, y’know?

*I called this phenomenon TARDIBAR: ‘Time And Relative Dimension In B And Andrea’s Relationship’.

So, another jam session today - but this time not with car radio factory workers, but… Well, people who might have all kinds of jobs. But all of them also working musicians.

There’s a Center For Performing Arts in Penang called Areca, and J, a pianist who I’d seen at the club on one of the first nights I was here (his band was playing there before I started) invited me down to a monthly jam session that he and other jazz players hold there every month.

So I went today - together with D2, the jazz pianist from San Francisco. It was a lot of fun, and great to hear D2 play live. You can see some pictures from the afternoon at the top of the set here.

Then this evening, T2 and HH collected me and  D2 (OK, this whole initial thing is getting silly) from the hotel, and we went for dinner at a restaurant in Batu Ferringhi. I had pizza for the first time since I got here, and it wasn’t bad at all. Although, as B would say, pizza’s like sex: even when it’s bad, it’s good.

The reason we went to Batu Ferringhi is that I wanted to reviset the night market V and I went to, and do a burst of present-shopping for friends and family back home. The night market is basically a series of stalls along the side of the road,  stretching for hundreds and hundreds of yards, and selling all manner of things from utter tat (knock-off designer goods, mostly) and pirated DVDs of films still showing in the cinema (mind you, this is probably the only way I’d get to see There Will Be Blood out here) to lovely Malaysian arts and crafts.

So you’re all getting utter tat and pirated DVDs.

It was great to have HH with me as I shopped, as she has haggling (in Chinese) down to a fine art. I learned that the best technique seems to be: tell them how much you’re prepared to pay, listen to them reduce the price to what they’re willing to offer, tell them don’t be silly, that’s not low enough, and then walk off. At which point they shout after you the price you were willing to pay. Works a treat.

I was too busy taking in all the shininess and potential gifts to take any photos of the market, but I did get quite a groovy shot or two earlier in the evening, as night was falling when we arrived:

Batu Ferringhi - it’s the Vegas of Penang! And that’s guarantee!

…that if you get at least two people of any age or nationality in a room together, they will know at least one Beatles song.

I’ve just returned from a fantastically entertaining afternoon, jamming with workers at a car radio factory.

This is my life out here.

TK - a fortysomething regular at the bar, and the person who kindly loaned his driver to show me and V around the island - had told me that he had a music room at his company’s factory here in Penang. “The managers can take music lessons on work time,” he explained. “And every Friday between 4 and 7, we open a few bottles of wine, and have a jam session. We’ve got full recording facilities, guitars, a drum kit and a piano”.

He was right. Except he forgot the cello.

So there I was at their factory and offices this afternoon, which looked liked something out of a 1980s Hollywood movie (possibly Nine To Five?), ie. this:

And after a quick tour, which included seeing various cars kitted out with ridiculously impressive car stereo systems (including one with a DVD player and surround sound. Yes, full cinema surround sound as you sit in the back of a car), we made ourselves at home in the music room. Which looked like this:

Apparently not all the regular, music-making managers were around this afternoon - but there were enough of us to have a very enjoyable session. At least two of the three guys could play several instruments really well - one is even a whizz at bluegrass guitar - and together we played and sang some jazz standards that they knew.

As I sat plonking a few chords (and I was definitely plonking) while I sang, I realised that I’ve never actually played any jazz piano with other people - only alone, at home - and I loved it, even though I was utterly, utterly terrible. It’s inspired me to think of possibly taking jazz piano lessons when I get back. I’ve known for a while how good it would be for my singing; now I know how much fun it would be, too. <Grins>.

And, yes, to return to my initial, scientific fact: the jam session took an even better turn when a Japanese marketing guy picked up a guitar (and how many stories start like that, eh) and began to play and sing the first of many, many Beatles numbers. Eight Days A Week, Norwegian Wood, And I Love Her, Michelle, Blackbird, Get Back, The Long And Winding Road, Here, There And Everywhere… You name it, we played and sang our hearts out to it. It was really quite moving, to be having this much fun with total strangers (actually I can think of quite a few stories which start like that) and I even felt a rare surge of patriotic pride over this music we were making together. “You can say what you like about Britain,” I said at the end, “but it did give the world The Beatles.”

No, really.

Over dinner with L (the drummer) the other night, I was asking him how he’d found the experience of the past two months. He told me that he would miss me - “Everyone asks me: how is it, working with Andrea? And I tell them: ‘It’s very easy! Very easy!’” - and he that he feels very sad about the idea of not being able to play “this music” any more.

In my instinctive Mary Poppins/Anna the Governess manner, I told him he could: he just had to whistle a happy tune. No, that’s not right. He just had to make it happen. That’s it.

You should get together with CC (my friend the bassist and jazz nut), I told him; find yourselves a good pianist, and form a jazz trio here. Get together and work out some tunes, I said, and then go to T, selling yourselves as specifically a jazz trio, ready for hire for any jazz gigs that come up in Asia. Including ones here at the hotel jazz club, of course.

So there I was, just beginning my Amelie-style matchmaking - telling L that CC wants to play more jazz, too; and then the following day telling CC the same thing about L; and telling them both that they should form a trio - when, whaddya know. A jazz pianist walked into the bar.

No, really.

D2 is probably about 30, and has arrived in Penang from San Francisco. His day job (computers or engineering, I can’t remember which) has brought him here for two years - two whole years - he’s currently staying in the hotel; and he seems like a really nice guy. But most importantly (for the sake of this story, at least): he’s a brilliant jazz piano and organ player.

I know this because he emailed me tracks he’s recorded with groups back in San Fran. I told him that his timing is lousy: “Not music-wise, you understand, but arriving-in-Penang-wise”. I would have given my right arm to have had him as my pianist out here. Hopefully his right arm won’t be going anywhere soon, though.

Still, what may have been bad timing for me could prove to be brilliant timing for my friends L and CC. I’ve organised a play for the four of us next week, so that I will at least have had a chance to sing with D2 before I leave. The main reason I’m doing it, though, is that I want to bring these three like-minded guys together. Of course, they might hate each other. They may not gel at all. But somehow, I think it could work. And hopefully they’ll continue to make sweet (jazz) music together long after I’ve left.

I had lunch yesterday with A, who collected me from the hotel (honestly, this is how every outing with everybody starts) and took us to Penang Club.

SE Asia is filled with these clubs, it seems - Clubs, Sports Clubs, Swimming Clubs, American Clubs. It’s obviously a throwback to Colonial times; Penang Club was established in 1886. A fact I know because it’s printed on their towelling bathrobes and coasters:

Penang Club has a lovely terrace with a sea view, an outdoor swimming pool and a teeny tiny private beach:

(That’s actually looking back to the area why my hotel is.)

Penang Club is also, it turns out, a wedding venue - and preparations were underway for a service that afternoon for a Dutch couple getting married there. The florist was creating a garlanded archway, and chairs and tables were being set out (see the pictures here). It was all sweetly makeshift and mismatching - blue tablecloths, yellow chairs, a burgundy rug, pink flowers and two strips of red carpet - but the best part was the fact that they were setting all of this up right next to a volleyball net:

“I now pronounce you man and wife… And request that guests please form an orderly line so that the bride and groom may choose their teams.”