SE Asian Adventure Part Deux: Episode 4 Penang Island
Penang is another island, like Singapore that was developed by a British man in search of an Asian port for ships to dock and fill up with raw materials like tin, lumber, and spices to take back Europe. For Singapore, that philandering whit man was Raffels, for Penang, it was Sir Francis Light, who acquired the island from a local Sultan and was governor there until he succumbed to malaria. In perhaps a related note, the more of Fort Cornwalis was filled in shortly after. A quote on one of the tour placards in the fort says, "we sacrificed aesthetics for the sake of health." While I know this wasn't the prevailing opinion in Victorian times, I do think it was a smart move.
Penang suffers from many of the ills that caused the Singaporean government to crack down on its citizens 50 years ago when it ceased being part of Malaysia and struck out on it's own.
Penang feels like a place that used to be beautiful. If you scraped away a century's worth of grime and disrepair, you would find a charming place. But as it is now, Penang is more of a battered sideboard at a flea market. It takes some squinting and some imagination to see what it once was and what it could be.
An UNESCORTED world heritage sit, the shop houses need a coat of paint, they are lived in, used, garages for motor bike repair, homes, restaurants, guest houses and temples. Litter is a huge problem here. Some. Streets stink with rotting garbage and piles of plastic bottles fill ditches and empty lots.
What it lacks in civil engineering, Penang makes up for in cultural diversity. A melting pot of Asian cultures, Penang runs the gamut from Bindi-sporting Hindu Indians or Burka-wearing Muslim Malays, Strait Chinese, Burmese, Japanese, and Armenian Jews live together in relative peace. There are also a lot of refugees that land on the northwest corner of Penang from Myanmar. The Malaysian government used to send them back but now they keep them in refugee camps and it's something of a kerfuffle right now.
Outside downtown Georgetown on the east coasts the island are 6 clan jetties where people live in traditional houses on stilts. Today the still are made of stacked buckets filled with concrete but I'm sure 100 years ago they were made of something similar. Touted as an attraction for tourists, I was met with a strange feeling upon stepping on the wooden Boardwalk. Some people have posted signs outside their homes asking tourists not to take photos. Others have set up shop and sell ice cream and trinkets from their front porches. Some people watch tv with the front door open for the cross breeze and other shut their curtains tight. The smells oscillate between sewage, durian, sandalwood inscents and whatever is being prepared on cook stoves.
I also see plenty of DSLRS slung over the shoulders of would-be travel photographers and selfie-sticks galore. I'm torn honestly and hardly take any photos. I feel like I'm walking through a ghetto or someone's backyard. Rats scurry up the pylons and it's easy to tell who has some money and who's scraping by. There's a small temple or shrine at the end of each jetty. Some have public toilets or food carts or restaurants. People are generally pleasant. They smile. A man offers me his seat at the end of one jetty that was a particular maze to navigate.
One jetty is overrun with filthy stray dogs who all look like they've just given birth to a litter of puppies, their teets all swollen with milk. Some houses have laundry drying outside. Others hang Chinese lanterns or give offerings of inscents and pineapples in small shrines to the gods. One house proclaims to be the headquarters of a club dedicated to the "enjoyment of feng shui".
I walk back through the streets to little India for dinner, realizing all I've eaten is Oreos and a pack of peanuts. I fear my less than steel stomach won't tolerate noodles served off a cart so I head to a restaurant that takes credit card and feast on nan and chicken tikka masala and watermelon juice for what amounts to about ten bucks. I listen to a pod cast to avoid feeling lonely. It's easy to forget you're traveling alone when your out and about but at meal times it hits me hard. There are three solo diners in this restraint. We are all seated at the bottom right of our tables. Their backs are to me.
The next morning I walk 7.7 kilometers through Georgetown past government houses and apartments and houses with corrugated metal roofs, past a soccer field and schools and gas stations to Penang hill. It's cloudy but it's stopped raining. There is a cable car that runs up the side of the mountain and on a clear day visitors can e mainland Malaysia. Today is not a clear day and I can barely see Georgetown below. There is a mosque and a Hindu temple at the top. There are beautiful gardens and workers are busy expanding the walking paths. There are also carts where people are peddling sunglasses and keychain, an Owl Museum I don't visit and several hotels. I take the public bus back, the only white person onboard. The driver asks me where I'm going when I ask how much the ticket is. He nods when I say into Georgetown. This bus is 2 Malaysian Ringet. The tourist bus is 45 Ringet for a 24 hour pass. I follow the blue dot on google maps until I'm as close as I think the bus will go to my hostel and feel pretty proud for navigating public transit.
I refill my camelpack at the hostel, pack up my things and leave. I stop at two ATMs, th first of which won't take my card (story of my life this trip) and stop at a corner store to try some snacks I've never heard of and head to the ferry station to take a three hour journey to Langkawi Island.
Penang suffers from many of the ills that caused the Singaporean government to crack down on its citizens 50 years ago when it ceased being part of Malaysia and struck out on it's own.
Penang feels like a place that used to be beautiful. If you scraped away a century's worth of grime and disrepair, you would find a charming place. But as it is now, Penang is more of a battered sideboard at a flea market. It takes some squinting and some imagination to see what it once was and what it could be.
An UNESCORTED world heritage sit, the shop houses need a coat of paint, they are lived in, used, garages for motor bike repair, homes, restaurants, guest houses and temples. Litter is a huge problem here. Some. Streets stink with rotting garbage and piles of plastic bottles fill ditches and empty lots.
What it lacks in civil engineering, Penang makes up for in cultural diversity. A melting pot of Asian cultures, Penang runs the gamut from Bindi-sporting Hindu Indians or Burka-wearing Muslim Malays, Strait Chinese, Burmese, Japanese, and Armenian Jews live together in relative peace. There are also a lot of refugees that land on the northwest corner of Penang from Myanmar. The Malaysian government used to send them back but now they keep them in refugee camps and it's something of a kerfuffle right now.
Outside downtown Georgetown on the east coasts the island are 6 clan jetties where people live in traditional houses on stilts. Today the still are made of stacked buckets filled with concrete but I'm sure 100 years ago they were made of something similar. Touted as an attraction for tourists, I was met with a strange feeling upon stepping on the wooden Boardwalk. Some people have posted signs outside their homes asking tourists not to take photos. Others have set up shop and sell ice cream and trinkets from their front porches. Some people watch tv with the front door open for the cross breeze and other shut their curtains tight. The smells oscillate between sewage, durian, sandalwood inscents and whatever is being prepared on cook stoves.
I also see plenty of DSLRS slung over the shoulders of would-be travel photographers and selfie-sticks galore. I'm torn honestly and hardly take any photos. I feel like I'm walking through a ghetto or someone's backyard. Rats scurry up the pylons and it's easy to tell who has some money and who's scraping by. There's a small temple or shrine at the end of each jetty. Some have public toilets or food carts or restaurants. People are generally pleasant. They smile. A man offers me his seat at the end of one jetty that was a particular maze to navigate.
One jetty is overrun with filthy stray dogs who all look like they've just given birth to a litter of puppies, their teets all swollen with milk. Some houses have laundry drying outside. Others hang Chinese lanterns or give offerings of inscents and pineapples in small shrines to the gods. One house proclaims to be the headquarters of a club dedicated to the "enjoyment of feng shui".
I walk back through the streets to little India for dinner, realizing all I've eaten is Oreos and a pack of peanuts. I fear my less than steel stomach won't tolerate noodles served off a cart so I head to a restaurant that takes credit card and feast on nan and chicken tikka masala and watermelon juice for what amounts to about ten bucks. I listen to a pod cast to avoid feeling lonely. It's easy to forget you're traveling alone when your out and about but at meal times it hits me hard. There are three solo diners in this restraint. We are all seated at the bottom right of our tables. Their backs are to me.
The next morning I walk 7.7 kilometers through Georgetown past government houses and apartments and houses with corrugated metal roofs, past a soccer field and schools and gas stations to Penang hill. It's cloudy but it's stopped raining. There is a cable car that runs up the side of the mountain and on a clear day visitors can e mainland Malaysia. Today is not a clear day and I can barely see Georgetown below. There is a mosque and a Hindu temple at the top. There are beautiful gardens and workers are busy expanding the walking paths. There are also carts where people are peddling sunglasses and keychain, an Owl Museum I don't visit and several hotels. I take the public bus back, the only white person onboard. The driver asks me where I'm going when I ask how much the ticket is. He nods when I say into Georgetown. This bus is 2 Malaysian Ringet. The tourist bus is 45 Ringet for a 24 hour pass. I follow the blue dot on google maps until I'm as close as I think the bus will go to my hostel and feel pretty proud for navigating public transit.
I refill my camelpack at the hostel, pack up my things and leave. I stop at two ATMs, th first of which won't take my card (story of my life this trip) and stop at a corner store to try some snacks I've never heard of and head to the ferry station to take a three hour journey to Langkawi Island.