After my delightful train-ride over into Malaysia I finally arrived at the island of Pulau Penang, and the city of Georgetown. Described as being similar to both Singapore and Hong Kong, it was one of Colonial Europe’s first staging points into SE Asia and Indochina.
Georgetown, however, is much smaller than either Singapore or Hong Kong. A few hours walk will take you through most of the city. It’s quieter, less ostentatious, and home to many and more mosques. Roughly half of Malaysia’s people are Muslim. Other ethnic groups include Indian, Chinese, and indigenous tribes.
After getting off the train in Butterworth, I hopped on a fairy over to the island, found myself a hostel, and relaxed; it had been a tumultuous ride and I was exhausted. That night I wandered vaguely up and down the streets before going to bed early.
The following day I took a much better walking survey of the city. My hostel, in the back packers district, was also part of China Town. As soon as I left, I realized that the population consisted of a wide variety of different cultures. Indians were in strong force, but the ethnic Malaysians seemed strangely absent. Along my walk I visited the post office, only to discover it was closed; strange, I thought, giving it was Wednesday.
Later that afternoon I came across the Kongsi House. This historic house was the former home of the Kongsi clan, a group of ethnic Chinese that settled in Georgetown during the 1600s. Their former house is simply magnificent. The clan still operates today and honors former ancestors and inducts newer ancestors into the shrines within the house.
When your ears are suddenly assaulted with a high chant blaring loudly over speakers most people would be, at the very least, surprised, if not concerned. In a Muslim country it is simply the call to prayer emanating for the nearest Mosque. And, it being Ramadan, it was not unexpected. In fact, the night before I had gone to sleep with the sounds of prayer in my ears.
I chanced to walk past a few different mosques in Georgetown. I am a huge fan of religious architecture across all credos. Yet, I find Christian and Islamic religious structures to be particularly striking. With the exception of Angkor Wat, most Buddhist and Hindu architecture strikes me as gaudy – pretentious. Something about the simple austerity of a church or mosque speaks to me far more (I realize I’m generalizing – many churches are gaudy obnoxious things themselves, and I’m sure some mosques are just as bad).
As it would turn out, that day was a public holiday. My confusion over the post offices closure and lack of Malaysians was explained. I still don’t really understand, but it was the history of the Koran day, a pseudo religious holiday?
The next day I found myself venturing over to Batu Ferringhi, the beach area. I took the local bus over and found myself a guesthouse, where I’m currently staying. The beach isn’t the cleanest or the most beautiful, but it’ll do. I’m just happy to go float in some salt water; I didn’t even mind when a dead fish decided to join my little party.
That night I ventured over to the night market, wholly unremarkable, and ate at the local hawker center. A hawker center is basically a food court with stalls and a common sitting area. The food tends to be delicious. I had been dying to try Roti since I started reading about it months ago when I found out I was going to Singapore. I finally had my chance.
Roti is basically fried dough; usually it’s served with some sort of curry or dipping sauce. I had roti with chicken curry. It lived up to all my expectations and was pleasantly spicy.
I’m spending the rest of today at the beach, relaxing. Tomorrow I venture to the Cameron Highlands in central Malaysia. Supposedly it doesn’t venture much over 84 F and is elevated enough that the humidity isn’t too bad. We’ll see…
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