Penang: Amaza-craza-Malaysia
Penang is amaza-crazy. Georgetown, the main town on the island here, is an old colonial town, a place where huge naval ships used to dock and drunken sailors would wander the streets, causing a merry ruckus. You can sense the history and atmosphere that used to be here.
But it’s different now. Rents were raised a couple years ago, so now more than half the stores you see are closed. All the streets in the districts — Little India, Chinatown, Pakistan Avenue — are crowded; not with people, but with cars. What used to be neighborhoods of dusty alleyways alive with bustling commerce, now is filled with the sound of passing motorbikes and car horns. A few pedestrians wander by, passing in front of steel-gated shop shadows. The cars zoom past, on their way to the big Western shopping malls.
But the food is excellent. There are enough foodstalls along the street to keep you full for days. It’s fun to walk around and just, y’know, eat.
But Malaysia has been a bit of a change from Thailand. After crossing the border, it looks almost like California. Suburban Cali, anyway. There are lots of housing developments — tract houses! — and strip malls, with big outlet stores, and the highways are proper highways, with big overpasses and wide lanes. The return of car culture and fast food; the end of roadside hamlets and fruitstands…
So last night I was at this bar called Hong Kong Bar — a hole-in-the-wall type place, decorated with a bunch of old war memorabilia and a radio playing oldies. Scrapbooks filled with photos and notes of the many patrons who’d been there in years past; pictures of the bar crowded with men in uniform, with Malay women in slinky dresses. Great photos. And the owner lazing near the back, playing Solitaire on the computer.
There, I met a couple interesting old expats who were sauced to their tits. “Irish Bill” was an interesting, funny raconteur. He used to be in the Air Force, and he was trained in weaponry. Apparently he got caught with a load of guns in the trunk of his car one day and did six years in prison. He kept telling jokes — the funny ones were funny, and then he started on some unfunny ones about “the Jews”. And then later, when he was good and steaming, he stared at me and explained that he could shoot me in the forehead from 800 meters.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” he asked. Actually, I did. Friggin’ creep.
Nice guy, though. There was also Jerry, or Brother Clement. Yes, another Irish guy, a former priest, who’d disavowed himself as a man of the cloth but still held strong to the faith. He’d been head of a Catholic school in South Africa during Apartheid, during which time they were never allowed to preach or proselytize to black people. In his later life, he helped found the first Sikh college in England.
Nice guy. Nicer than Irish Bill, actually. I mean, at least Jerry didn’t freak me out by telling me how effectively he could shoot me from a distance. And he also encouraged an open discussion about faith.
Both of these guys had to be in their 60s or 70s, and seemed to have been living in Penang for some time. Strange folk, to be sure, but more than that. They really had seen a lot and done a lot. Irish Bill, who is pretty much the definition of “that drunk guy at the end of the bar”, actually did have some interesting things to say. At least before he was too far gone to be coherent. They’d been all over the place, both of them, and here they were, opening up chapters from their life stories and sharing them with a couple travellers on a stormy night.
Good times.
Hey, thanks everyone for all your birthday well wishes. The actual day was pretty uneventful — in fact, it was a necessary travel day, as I had to be out of Thailand the next day. So I had a few beers the night before with some of my friends back on Lanta, and then enjoyed a great six-hour busride (hangover included!). Yeah, happy birthday to me! But since it’s like every day is a birthday out here, I figured it’s all good. And I just hope to make up for it when I get back home…
Oh, and the only birthday present I got was not remembering that I’d lent my iPod charger to a girl at the guesthouse and, upon leaving in a rush to catch my bus, forgetting this fact. Yes, indeedily — so Tina still has my charger, and we might be able to meet up again at some point, as she’s travelling through Malaysia, too. But who knows, as making decisive plans around here is pretty damn hard. And trying to coordinate with someone over email even harder. And for something as trivial as… well, shootie. It is my guyPod*! And it’s low on juice! Needs rechargin’!
Damn.
But, as they say, TANBE.
* Trademark: Tom Hynes.
Tags: food, Georgetown, Malaysia, Penang
ismateo
I could shoot you (a blog reply) from over 800 meters (of fiberoptic cable)