October 24th – 27th 2008
We took a minibus from Hat Yai to Butterworth and then a ferry over to Georgetown - the capital of the island and state of Penang, off the west coast of peninsular Malaysia. The border crossing between Thailand and Malaysia went smoothly (no fees or photos required). Having no travel guide on Malaysia on arrival, it made a nice change to get off the bus without any preconceptions. At the same time, however, we were in a new country and I felt quite ignorant about where we were. I knew that Georgetown had been a British colony but didn't know when it had gained independence. As we searched for a hostel, I wondered how to greet and thank people and whether we should try and negotiate the room rates, as we had been doing in Thailand, or just accept the prices offered. When we had settled on a place, our eager-to-chat guesthouse manager soon filled in the gaps in my knowledge: independence was gained in 1957, the price of a room is as stated on the sign (22 Ringgits, approximately 4 GBP - how can you really barter with that anyway, especially when it included hot water, a luxury we haven't had in weeks!), you can just say "hello" to greet people and "terima kasih" is "thank you". With that he gave me an apple and told me to enjoy exploring his town.
I soon discovered that the chatty nature of our guesthouse's manager wasn't just a reflection of his friendly personality - practically everyone we met in Georgetown was incredibly welcoming and liked to talk (and talk). We had people virtually take us by the hand and lead us down the street when we asked for directions (Robbie, myself, a Swiss guy from the minibus, one terrible map and a number of failed attempts at finding the town's principle statue). And as they did, they would not only ask the obligatory Asian-meets-tourist questions - where are we from, where have we been and where are we going to - but also sincerely seemed to care about making us feel welcome. Within just a few hours, and despite a downpour, I knew I was going to really enjoy being in Georgetown. The fantastic tandoori chicken with cheese naan on that first afternoon topped off my good vibes about the place.
One of the fascinating things about Georgetown, and perhaps I'll discover about Malaysia in general, is the mixture of cultures living alongside each other. Muslims, Indians, Chinese and Malay each seem to have their own quarters in Georgetown but mosques, temples, shrines and churches are scattered throughout. We spent the first afternoon and following day wandering through the streets with the Dutch lady and Swiss guy who had been on the minibus from Hat Yai with us. We walked from China town through Little India and then headed for the Komtar, Georgetown's tallest building (232m). From the 60th floor up, we looked out onto the 13.5km bridge connecting Penang with Malaysia, the roofs of the old town, the skyscrapers of the new, the boats out at sea and the surrounding hills. I felt like we were getting good value for money from our stay as it seemed like we had been to China, India and revisited Hong Kong all within a few hours.
The truly wonderful thing about Georgetown's melting pot of cultures is the fantastic range of cuisines it produces. My taste buds came alive and my stomach felt the fullest it has done since leaving my mum's dining table in July (with the possible exception of the afternoon at the Thai cooking school). And with outdoor food courts all over the place, similar to those you sometimes find in Western shopping malls but a bit more hot and sweaty, you can go to dinner with a group of people and everyone’s tastes can usually be catered for. Indeed, on our first evening (yes, after the Indian we had devoured in the afternoon), Robbie was in his element to be back on the sushi, I tried the local "lok lok" (boiled crab and prawns on a stick) followed by a waffle with ice cream, Roman (the Swiss guy) had a Chinese stir fry and Lala (the Dutch vegetarian) joined us with her plate of greens. It was all-round stomach satisfaction.
The other thing about the mixture of religions in Georgetown is that there always seems to be one resting day or holiday of sorts. Shops and tourist sites were closed at times we weren't expecting – like Friday and Saturday afternoons - and when we decided we would return to some sites on the Monday, we were told not to bother as it was an Indian holiday. It turned out to be the Indian New Year, which accounted for the deafening music from Little India and men shaking my hand on the way home one night shouting "Happy New Year" in my face. I wondered if that was why the people were very smiley in Georgetown - they are all well rested.
On my last day on the island I succumbed to an offer by a local to take me on a motorbike tour. My middle-aged guide liked to call himself "Mr Ken Can Do" but I soon named him "Crazy Ken" (I'll try and put photos up at some point which will probably tell the story better than my words will). The morning started with breakfast at an Indian restaurant by the beach, in the middle of which Crazy Ken disappeared in a bit of a fluster when his mobile rang and returned about 15 minutes later, switching his mobile off and muttering something undecipherable as he sat down again. Despite my concerns at being whisked away by a bit of a loony local character, it actually turned out to be a great tour taking in a national park, a waterfall, the botanic gardens, a craft village and a tropical fruit farm. I got to try the smelly Durian fruit at last (concluding it must be an acquired taste) and Ken even let me try riding his bike on some straight stretches. It all finished with a coke and an unexpected head massage at his cafe bar, at which point I did wonder about Ken so thanked him for the tour, paid him for the petrol and his time and left him and his "genuine Gucci sunglasses" which he had insisted I wore on the bike (again, there is photographic evidence).
That afternoon, I went with Lala to see the temple "Kek Lok Si". With its Chinese clothes stalls densely lining the steps all the way up and the shop inside the temple itself, I pondered on whether the building really was a reflection of devotion or a reflection of the commercialisation of a religion. We didn't stay long, leaving to meet up with Robbie and Roman to get the train up Penang Hill to see the sun set over Georgetown on our last evening. Hunger actually drove us to descend the hill early so that we missed the sky at its most colourful but we did get to see in the Indian New Year with some tandoori chicken for the boys, roti for Lala and a beef curry for myself. Our energy levels seemed low after we had eaten and tolerance levels also seemed to be wearing thin (Lala appeared agitated about getting the wrong dish, Roman wondered why we had to leave the restaurant in such a rush and Robbie had been sleeping at the table not saying very much). I think it was time for everyone to move on and to see whether peninsular Malaysia had similar delights for us in store.
