Tag Archives: Penang

Letter from Penang

Posted on by
Dajia Hao,
8
Only 2 weeks left of our annual pilgrimage and we’re starting to panic.
I can’t imagine leaving here despite the persistent rain.
5
8
The weekend after we returned from Borneo was a lot of fun.
A group of us spent time cooking up some local curries at the Spice Garden followed by a website building seminar.
8
The next day we took a boat to Monkey Beach and then trekked up to the lighthouse at Muka Head. After exploring the lighthouse with its spectacular views over the north-west corner of Penang island, we continued on by boat to Pantai Kerachut to view the turtle breeding sanctuary and meromictic lake.
7
Nazlina, Johanna & Johan
at the turtle hatchery
8
Trekking in the Malaysian jungle is a wonderful experience. But, if confronted by a tiger it is important to stand perfectly still and sing.
The Malaysian National Anthem works best. If the tiger still wants to attack then try the Singaporean or Thai National Anthems. It may be an over-the-border tiger.
Generally they don’t like eating people. Of course, if they’re really hungry and there’s nothing else to eat, the familiar ‘Macca’s effect’ comes in to play. We start looking like a cheeseburger with fries.
8
Over the weekend we met a really nice Texan who writes articles and takes wildlife pics for ecology magazines and websites.
He married a Malay girl and they’ve lived in KL for the past 20 years. He converted to Islam as a matter of course and was asked to select a Moslem name. He chose Razlee Dazlee much to the chagrin of his adopted family.
7
0
Enjoyed a funny night out with Jamal ( a Malay friend ) and his wife.
His latest saying is “never late than better”. His tales about Arab tourists are priceless. Ramadan has just started so the Arabs have gone back to the desert.
Everybody here is breathing a sigh of relief.
It’s holiday time. Appu and a couple of drivers who work with him, their wives, a tribe of kids, Lotus Bud and I, all crammed in a bus and headed for the Genting Highlands.
9
If you enjoy smoke filled casinos, lots of expensive franchised fast food outlets and soulless Malaysian versions of crass American culture, then the Genting Highlands could be just the place for you.
On the upside, it is cooler if you need a break from the tropical heat and there are some fun rides in the Theme Park for kids of all ages.
Genting is where the Malaysians come en masse to play. It’s like a religious pilgrimage. Like doing Haj. They come from every Kampong on the peninsula at least once in their lives.
8
During a two night stay we didn’t spy a single western face.
We stayed in room 929, one of 11,000 rooms that make up the largest hotel on the planet. The whole place looks like the departure lounge of an airport. There is not a single vacant room. Why?
8
The Malaysian mind is essentially unfathomable.
They’re all wearing masks to guard against the media-hyped up H1N1 virus but they are happy to share food and drink bottles, leave stagnant water to attract dengue, smoke themselves stupid into burgeoning cancer wards and never use
soap to wash their hands. I love them but they are a people who have massively embraced 21st century technology only minutes after evolving from jellyfish.
Issues such as caring for the environment, racial equality, women’s rights, health and safety have not even blipped on the radar yet.
8
7
We are going to Thailand tomorrow for a couple of days for some trekking.
I have to go and learn the Thai National Anthem.
0

Letter from Kuching

Posted on by
Dajia Hao,
8

After 2 weeks in Penang, Lotus Bud and I decided we needed a holiday.The local Chinese doctor strongly advised that I convalesce somewhere far away from Durian. Six nights in Borneo should do the trick.

Durian stall at Balik Pulau
8
I needed a small backpack, so, while driving around the Kampongs of Balik Pulau looking for ‘Red Prawn’ Durian ( I would inject that stuff ), we found a cheap bag shop. I bought a really cheap pack – I thought, if it lasts the 6 nights in Borneo it will owe me nothing.
6
Next day we left our apartment, said goodbye to our neighbour, ‘ Bama ‘ ( I call her the President ), picked up my pack and it literally fell to pieces.
We had a harrowing drive to the airport racing with the clock, found a park and then ran to the Check-in Counter like contestants on the Amazing Race.
7
“Sorry Sir, your flight departure has been delayed by one hour”.While Veronica sat sipping her Cafe Latte at Coffee Bean, I sewed my bag back together.
We passed through Airport security like the Invisible Man and his imaginary wife. The dude on the x-ray machine was so engrossed in telling a pretty wanita about the great nasi lemak he had that morning that he didn’t notice us, our bags or the 2 litres of nitro-glycerine we smuggled through in our water bottles.
Welcome to Malaysia.
This is a very laconic country.
When we arrived here from Australia over a month ago, I found the padlock was missing from my suitcase when I took it off the carousel.
Not wanting to be the next Shappelle Corby, I immediately notified the nearest Security Guard. He just waved me on. I persisted.
“My padlock is gone, anything could have been planted in my case.”
He looked at me like I was beginning to cause him grief. He eventually motioned toward the Lost Property counter and suggested I go and report the theft of my padlock.
0
0
So we are back in Borneo after 7 years.
What a wonderful city Kuching is. The Sarawak River snakes through the city with the Old Chinatown on one bank and the majestic Mosque and Palace of the White Rajahs on the other. An evening spent down at the waterfront sipping rice wine and eating fine Malay food is almost perfect.We’re staying at an Iban operated hotel. 70 years ago the Iban were still Headhunters but nowadays they prefer to take our money and let us go.
6
Manager of the Iban Hotel
asking a guest to leave.
7
We shared breakfast with a group of loud Americans. One guy was telling everyone about a recent trip to Kazakstan where he saw a family drive by with a cow in the car. He said he didn’t know how they got it in there with all the kids but it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.No trip to Borneo is complete without staying at a Longhouse.
We chose a Bidayuh village called Annah Rais, up in the mountains near the Kalamantan ( Indonesian ) border.
On the drive there from Kuching we passed a shop with two signs out the front. One said ‘Pet Rabbit For Sale’ and the other said ‘Fresh Rabbit Meat’.
8
9
The Longhouse has almost 200 doors. An entire community effectively living under one continuous stretch of roofing with a bamboo verandah connecting the houses.
After settling in, we opted for a 3 hour jungle walk from the Longhouse to a beautiful three tier waterfall. The walk was hot and sweaty but very spectacular. At one point we walked within metres of a slash and burn area. The sound of the exploding bamboo and raging flames was quite frightening. We couldn’t help but get a small sense of how
overwhelming the horror of Victoria’s bushfires must have been for many.At the waterfall we ate rice and chicken cooked in bamboo before swimming in a rock pool at the base of the falls.
0
9
Our fellow travellers were 4 Singaporeans and a Japanese girl we named YoYo because she couldn’t stand still. Our night at the Longhouse included a cultural show that made tai chi look like a Bullfight.
Our MC, fat Mr. Edward, introduced each performance with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a beer in his hand. Each dance was performed by his Grandmother dressed in feathers and fighting to stay alive. Twice she fell asleep in the middle of a ‘dance’ and fat Mr. Edward had to come out and give her a prod.
The ‘guests’ were required to join in the last dance. We waved our hands from side to side as we took turns in holding Granny up. We swayed to the rhythm as the Bidayuh warriors sat around in their AC/DC and Slipknot T-shirts, texting their mates on their iphones.
8
0
Back in Kuching, we caught a local bus out to Semingoh Orangutan Sanctuary. It’s worth coming to Borneo if for no other reason than to spend time with these awesome creatures.
Spent a night at Bako in a wooden hut.
Close to Kuching and accessible only by boat, this National Park is arguably the best wildlife experience short of an African safari.
At Bako, the ubiquitous and strangely proportioned Proboscus Monkeys look uncannily like me – according to several of my Malaysian ex-friends.
7

8
We arrived back in Penang at midnight last night. Our holiday is over and, perhaps mercifully, so too the Durian season.
Malaysia is a culinary heaven.
This year we have a great kitchen in our apartment and Veronica has cooked up some smart local curries. The best part has been exploring our favourite markets for fresh vegetables and buying different spices in Little India.
On the other hand, China ( if you’re not on an organised tour ), can be a culinary nightmare. It can be so bad that even McDonalds seems like a good option.
We got chatting to a Chinese guy lately who told us he loved visiting Australia but he couldn’t find anything to eat. He added – “Thank God for McDonalds”.
8
4

Letter from Malaysia

Posted on by
Dajia hao,

As Gao Jian pointed out, I mistakenly called you all my Big Sisters ( Dajie hao ) last email. A nice twist on the Chinglish we enjoy so much in China.
Recent classics include : Please don’t presd down on the pretly grass ; Mashroom ( toilet ) ; no vocifercation ; uproaring and shouting would also disturb the publicity and influence hotel guests to rest ; adultery and showing reaction is not joyful .



8
We hope that you are all well. Veronica and I had an amazing time in China – again.
For 9 days we travelled around Hainan without hearing much English. Finding food ( that a wai guo ren can eat ) is often difficult but always creates a laugh.
Hainan Dao is a large island ( about half the size of Tasmania ) off the south coast of China. We travelled to 3 main locations on the island.
Haikou, in the north, is the capital and one of the most frenetic cities we’ve been to. The old town and back street markets are a photographer’s heaven.
Wuzhishan is an ethnic minority region up in Hainan’s hilly interior.
Sanya, in the south, is to Russia what Bali is to Australia. A spectacular beach area full of cafes, bars and a McDonalds. Most of the street vendors and cafe owners tried talking to us in Russian. They speak some Russian but no English. I would answer them in Chinese with my best Russian accent. On one occasion I nearly got to sell Veronica for a vintage 20 year old bottle of Vodka. The deal fell through when I tried to down play her incontinence.
8
8
We enjoyed balmy tropical weather most of the time despite the occasional heavy shower of rain. On one such occasion we took shelter in a pet grooming saloon ( the new China ). The place was full of pampered pooches and gay guys with scissors.
I tried explaining to this miserable little poodle dressed in a frilly dress and pink toenails that this had to be better than being number 43 with black bean sauce but it seemed to fall on deaf ears. Just then a peddle cab pulled up and a man holding a confused cat got out in the torrential rain. We seized the moment, jumped into the now vacant cab
and went searching for a coffee. We are now back in Malaysia and rapidly putting on weight.
After a night in KL we took a bus to Ipoh and languised for two nights in the once majestic Railway Hotel. Unfortunately the lunatics have taken over the asylum. The grand old lady is now riddled with arthritis. Paint peeling, carpet full of mildew, the Malay signs look like graffiti. We concluded that it must be time for Britain to invade Malaya again.
8
8
From Ipoh to Appu
8

The weekend after we arived in Penang was the first anniversary of George Town being awarded UNESCO World Heritage listing.  All over town the Chinese, Malay and Indian communities held various festivities. I won’t go into detail but the explosion of sights, sounds, smells, tastes and sheer excitement was mind blowing. What a place. Is there
anywhere else on the planet quite like Penang? This is now our 13th continuous year of coming here and the love affair has never waivered.

8

8
We have a car too. Hitherto referred to as The Yellow Peril. Picked it up from our friend Appu last night. After being run over by a dog last year we decided to turn potential disaster into a speed hump.
5
‘Ring’ ‘Ring’ – ” Appu, a white man has stolen your car “.
Funny thing; we ride 2,000 km every year on a motorbike and Veronica sits as quiet as a mouse on the back. Now we have a car and she’s a nervous wreck.
8
Over dinner Appu recited the tale of his two trips to England. As usual, we laughed to the point of almost losing another sensational Penang meal.
In his teens ( he’s now 35 ) Appu could speak no English. He was driving for a tour company and was entrusted with transfering an English couple from Penang to KL. Despite the language problems they soon fell under his spell, as nearly everyone does. He has an uncanny knack of knowing what people need. If you feel thirsty his car will miraculously find a roadside stall and you’re soon sipping fresh coconut juice.
Appu drove them to KL and left them at the Marriot. Two hours into his return trip to Penang he happened to glance in the rear view mirror and spy a lady’s handbag on the back seat. It was full of money, cards, 2 passports and various valuables. He immediately turned around and drove back to KL.
8
At 2 am he found them pacing the foyer of the Marriot Hotel completely distraught and unable to trace the driver. They couldn’t believe it when he walked in with the handbag. The guy pulled all the money out of the handbag and thrust it at Appu. They were so pleased to get back their documents and money was no object. Naturally Appu refused the cash but the couple pretty much adopted him then and there.
9
To cut a long story short, they paid for him to come to England, taught him English and still visit him every year in Penang. When ever the English couple come to Malaysia they pay for Appu to travel everywhere with them.
Appu says, ” The guy comes here, hires a car and then he drives. His wife likes to sit in the front to see the view, so I sit in the back. Now I am the boss. “
9
Better go, this keyboard has all the letters worn off so I keep making mystakes. You literally have to tread on the spacebar to make it work.
3

Letter from China

Posted on by
We are sitting in a ritzy open air Russian cafe on the Dadonghai coastal strip of Hainan Island in China.

A tropical storm has imprisoned us here.

8
We’ve been on the run for over a week now. It all began with a Air Asia flight to Kuala Lumpur, which was fortunately without incident albeit uncomfortable. I did my best to contract Durian poisoning while Veronica tried to track down her Malaysian boss who has been hiding from her in KL. We eventually found his Clinic but he had somehow gotten wind of the approaching Dragon Lady and fled.
We checked out of our KL hotel at 4 am and took a hair-raising, one hour taxi ride to the airport for our flight to China.
“Sorry sir, your flight has been cancelled, come back tomorrow.”
Various textures of excretement hit the aircon before they consented to putting us up in a ghost town on the outskirts of KL. It was a reasonable hotel surrounded by reflexology brothels and hundreds of deserted shops.
We arrived in Haikou ( Capital of Hainan Island ) a day late. The official welcoming party tried to explain to us that there was no bus and their overpriced taxis were the only option. We eventually arrived at the Banana Hostel after a series of bus trips and settled in to playing one of our favourite holiday games – spot the cockroach.
8
8
There are parts of China where a white man can starve.
Last night we stayed in a remote ethnic minority region called Wuzhishan ( Five finger mountain ). The restaurant served up a dish I call Exploded Chicken.
The basic recipe is: One chicken; 6 large mushrooms ( which the chicken has to eat just before going to God ) and a stick of dynamite.
The dynamite is forced inside the chicken and then they blow it up. The resultant mess is gathered up, put in a pot and sauteed in its own urine. Toss in some chilli, garlic and more chilli then serve hot.
8
8
The previous night, after being eaten alive by mosquitos the size of small birds, we discovered that this area is Malarial. My little Lotus Bud panicked and we made a bee-line for the nearest Yaofang ( Chemist ). I must point out that we have not heard a word of English in 3 days and my Chinese only serves to confuse most people. I asked for quwenji ( mosquito repellant ) but they wanted to give us toilet paper. Veronica immediately drew upon her years of professional acting and started buzzing around the shop, flapping her wings and poking her proboscus-like index finger into the arms of several very distressed looking shop assistants.  They asked us to leave.
8

As we drove out of town on the first bus this morning I imagined passing a huge under-cover area full of tai chi masters teaching advanced forms in perfect English. Next door was a boutique Coffee House with a large TV screen showing replays of Brisbane Lions Grandfinal wins and episodes of Master Chef. Home suddenly didn’t seem such a bad place.

Video link 1

Video link 2

Heart of Malaysia

Posted on by

We’re back in Malaysia. Landed in KL and then bused it up to Taiping for a couple of days of debriefing.

First thing we had to do was buy a couple of nails to slide between faulty shutters on our hotel room. We walked into a Hardware store and asked for 4″ nails. The guy behind the counter gave us a curious look before rummaging through some boxes.
“How many nails do you want”, he called out.
I told him two.
“Two”?
I explained that I just needed enough to nail Veronica to a cross.
Neither the Hardware guy or Veronica could see a lot of humour in that.

Next we bought an umbrella at a junk shop. I needed to road test it. A group of bemused Malay sales girls stood watching while a strange bald man started aggressively swinging his newly acquired cheap red umbrella around in the 5-footway. I didn’t break anything including the expectation that white men are very odd creatures.

We wandered through a fruit market. I told this guy selling mangosteen at RM5 for 3 kg, that in Australia we pay RM7 for one.
“One kilo”?
“No, one mangosteen”.
He wouldn’t believe me. Within 30 seconds the entire market was discussing this enormous travesty. We left the market through a guard of honour, as stall holders and buyers shook their heads at us in sympathy.

Walked around the huge central lake. Taiping is a pretty place. Met a Chinese guy who had lived in England for 40 years but decided to come back home to die. He told us that Taiping is famous for two things – rain and gambling.
“I bet you it will rain by 3 o’clock”.
He was right. Apparently it always rains by mid-afternoon.

Next day we took a jeep ride up Maxwell Hill. Don’t do that trip on a full stomach.
Met a black nuggety Indian who reckons he saw a tiger up there 20 years ago. He himself had just seen a monkey with spectacles on. An English guy who overheard our conversation then told us about a group of Liverpool supporters who visited Australia a few years ago. They wanted to see the ‘Outback’, so they hired a jeep and went bush. It was just on dusk when a large Red Kangaroo jumped out in front of them and was unfortunately hit and killed by the jeep.
The Liverpool lads felt really bad. They stopped and gathered around the dead roo, debating what to do with its remains. One of the guys had a bright idea.
“We should bury it but first let’s get a photo of it”.

They then decided that they should all be in the photo with the kangaroo. Another suggested putting one of their Liverpool soccer jumpers on it. So they propped up the deceased beast, put a jumper over its head, threaded its tiny front legs through the arm holes and gathered around for a group photo.

When the camera flash went off, the kangaroo suddenly woke up, looked around and then bolted off into the bush. The Liverpool lads were completely stunned but perhaps not as much as the local aboriginal tribe who are still coming to terms with the kangaroo who regularly bounds past wearing a football jumper.

That night we hardly slept. Downstairs there was a group of about 60 Malay men enjoying a karaoke party. It was that awful whining Malay pop music that makes Michael Bolton sound cheerful. Every song is the same pleading, crying, painfully desperate, monotonous melodramatic dribble, made all the more obnoxious by the fact that none of them could actually sing.
I went downstairs to complain. The lady on the front desk suggested we just try and ride it out. They are all members of the Police force.
Ok, we’ll live with it.

We arrived back in Penang, happy to be home despite feeling very tired from having no sleep the night before.
After an early night we bounded up to the park the next morning to meet all our tai chi friends. Instructor Peter Lim has two new western students, Philip and Hugh. They wear shirts tucked into tight shorts and socks with their tai chi slippers. Apparently they have stayed here 30 times already, speak fluent Bahasa and don’t mix with expats. No wonder we hadn’t seen them before, they probably see us coming and hide.

Dieticians agree that breakfast is the most important meal of the day and who am I to disregard such good advice. So in Penang, I usually enjoy at least two breakfasts. Muesli and fruit with Veronica and then nasi lemak or beehoon with the locals. It’s all part of a hopelessly flawed weight loss program.

Malaysia is eternally frustrating. It’s a society bursting with contradictions. Flagrant disregard for their fellow man is often coupled with acts of extreme generosity and sacrifice. There is chaos on the roads but almost no road rage. Democracy with no safety net for the poor or disadvantaged. Places of great beauty drowning in a sea of plastic bags and polystyrene. One thing, it’s never boring but I’d like to belt the living suitcase out the bastard who revs the hell out of his motorbike at 5 o’clock every morning.

Our days here are full. Whether it’s doing a qi gong course, watching Chigku perform in a restored shophouse, sipping madras coffee with Teresa at Edelweiss, meeting friends in Chinese coffee shops, riding through kampongs on our motorbike or feeling like time has stood still when prowling the decaying streets of George Town. This place just makes us smile.

One thing we have often talked about doing is trying to find Suffolk House. This majestic mansion was once the home of Penang’s founder, Francis Light and stood as a seat of governance for successive generations. We have never met anybody who actually knew where it stands. Like Camelot, Suffolk House has always been the stuff of legends. We’ve seen pictures painted of it 150 years ago but for all we knew, it had crumbled and disappeared into historical memory. By all accounts this was by far the most magnificent mansion this island has ever seen. We probably should try and find it or what’s left of it.

Over breakfast at a hawker centre in Air Hitam, we quizzed a large group of Chinese friends about the whereabouts of Suffolk House. Not only did they not know where it was, they’d never heard of it.
They are living in one of the most special cities in all of Asia and it’s slowly crumbling around them. They don’t notice it. When it’s all gone, it doesn’t matter, we can build something else and it won’t look so old and tired. Heritage, what’s that? A multi-level car park would be nice. Sure make it easier to get to the new supermarket they’ve built now that that horrible old row of 1875 Southern Eclectic Style Chinese Shophouses has finally been bulldozed from memory.

Veronica and I found new determination. We are going to find Suffolk House. We are John and Veronica, tai chi Instructors, team number one on the Amazing Race. Someone once told us that the Mansion was somewhere near the State Mosque. We bid our Chinese friends good day, jumped on our motorbike and left them to contemplate new ways to make money.

We knew that Suffolk House was annexed to a school and had even been used as the school canteen for a number of years. I believed it was St. Xaviers, so we headed there. An Indian couple outside the school thought it wasn’t here but we should try the Methodist Boys School further along the Air Hitam Road. Sounded right, we rode there, talked our way past the bored guard on the gate – something about me being a professor and doing a doctorate on Asian education. We rode up the main drive and then walked the last 50 metres to the main office. We explained our quest for the Holy Grail and consequently found ourselves being directed to follow a young female student who would take us to the school counsellor.
Two things immediately sprung to mind.
Why do we need a Counsellor and what’s a girl doing at the Methodist Boys School?

The Counsellor was busy but upon hearing what our girl guide uttered, he just pushed all his papers aside, stood up and charged out of the office dragging us in his wake.
“I’ll show you Suffolk House”, he proudly stated.

This was getting exciting albeit a little strange but hey, this is Malaysia, strange is the norm. We didn’t have to walk far before the scaffold-clad facade of what was left of Suffolk House loomed imposingly over the school’s back fence. It was bizarre. This was it. Like finding the Pyramids in a suburb of Cairo. Like an inconsiderate Developer who had built a high-rise Condo next door to a bungalow. But this was no Condo. Even in its neglected state, its former magnificence was obvious. We squeezed through a small gap in the cyclone fence and onto a construction site. John and Veronica, you are team number one.

The Counsellor left us to our devices and suggested we come back to his office when we were ready. He had apparently written an article on the house that we may be interested in. Suffolk House was to be fully restored and stage one had begun. Stage two and onward was dependent on securing funds.

After wandering around the skeletal remains of the mansion for about twenty minutes we went back for some counselling. The Counsellor printed out an article on the house for us and showed us several old photos of generations of school children eating their lunch at the ‘Suffolk House Canteen’.  With the passing of time the house eventually became structurally unsafe for use, boarded up and abandoned.

The Counsellor was very kind and generous with his time. I suspect that he was delighted to meet people with a kindred interest in the House. We rode out of the school grounds with a sense of achievement. Why had it taken us so long to find the grand lady in the small parlour? Finding Suffolk House and sensing its future was probably now secure left us with a wonderful feeling.

We browsed through the horrible Batu Ferringhi trash market that night. Found a CD of nursery rhymes that included songs such as Mary had a Little Lamp and Little Jack Horny. I kid you not. Also bought a DVD with a warning for pirates. Any person making illegal copies of this video will be persecuted. We bought some movie about teen werewolves, just for the warning. The pirates who make these copies inadvertently copy the threats against themselves incorrectly. Now that’s funny.

I recall watching a pirated copy of a Batman movie that we purchased at the Bart a few years ago. It was in English but also contained English subtitles. At one point Bruce Wayne was berating a group of wealthy guests being entertained at his mansion. He yelled out that he was fed up with all his sycophantic friends. The subtitle had him being fed up with all his sick of antique friends.