We're back in one-day-off-a-week mode. Today was it.

We walked to Putra station, got the train to Kuala Lumpur station (the old, beautiful one), and walked up the hill to the Royal Malaysia Police Museum.

This exceeded my expectations by miles. Outside, armoured cars and other paramilitary vehicles enjoy their retirement among the flowers and trees, within earshot of the peacocks in the bird park.

A monument pays tribute to all those who lost their lives during the course of their service.







Despite the haze, you get a pleasant view over the city. Spot the Menara -- just?



And they have awesome fire buckets:



Inside, a number of artefacts catch the eye. These include:

-- a large collection of uniforms, which notably chart the rise and fall of those incredibly baggy shorts so beloved of the late colonial era

-- various band instruments, including a set of bagpipes and a souzaphone

-- Japanese swords, found next to officers who'd used them to commit suicide at the time of Japan's surrender (one departed this life in company with his local sweetheart)

-- hankies, which when folded a certain way showed pornographic pictures (duly confiscated by the local constabulary)

-- "women communist terrorist accessories", which consisted of sad little everyday items like drawstring pouches and a bra, now for ever immortalized by their association with the "Emergency"

-- hundreds of record books, meticulously completed in beautifully sloped writing

-- a vast array of police vehicles, real and miniature



Worth the trip.

Feeling lunch-ish by now, we decided to pop in at the Islamic Arts Museum restaurant. They do a nice set lunch, and we enjoyed a "sour hibiscus" drink, meze, soup, excellent lamb (cooked on one of those vertical spit things), an exquisitely creamy "milk pudding", and Arabic coffee.

After which we toured the special exhibition, on "Khayamiya", or the Egyptian art of tent-making. This was fascinating. It's applique-work, essentially, and the designs and colours are superb. But what makes it even more poignant is that originally this riot of shapes and shades was all designed for temporary purposes. It was used to create tents or other makeshift spaces, and then, when the event was over, it was all taken down again.

What a wonderful combination of the beautiful, the prosaic, the celebratory, and the nomadic.



(The above tent has been deliberately erected inside out, by the way. Normally, the outside would be plain, and the inside a glorious colourful surprise.)

It's a dying art, unfortunately. Tents for celebrations are now set up using factory-printed cloth -- a poor imitation of the beautifully textured genuine article. So most of the applique is now made for tourists. (And it's always been attractive to travellers, it seems. Many of the pieces in the display actually came from overseas collectors. And -- what do you know? -- there's a khayamiya "tent room" at Doddington Hall in Lincoln. We must visit next time.)



A modern form has emerged, however. It's more like quilting, but it still takes on the gorgeous designs and colours of its predecessor.

The exhibition, says the associated leaflet, seeks to promote the survival of khayamiya by reaching new audiences. Well, it's certainly succeeded in that.