| Submitted by: Mark R. LeeperUnited States |
| Submission Date: 09 February 2005 |
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English again is the common language shared by the various
ethnic groups.) Their symbol is the rocket.
Malaysia seems more prosperous than Thailand. At least the roads
are smoother. It looks a little more like home, at least on the roads.
Butterworth and Georgetown are sort of twin cities separated by a
narrow (two-mile) strait of the Andaman Sea. Georgetown is the city on
the island of Penang and people often call it Penang. Butterworth is
the closest city on the Malaysian mainland. It looks fairly modern and
sports an air force base currently used by the Australians.
We pulled into a gas station, and while the tank was filled the
driver got out and vigorously shook the van back and forth for three or
five minutes. We speculated that it helped to get more petrol in the
tank, but that is just a guess.
The ferry to Penang is reminiscent of the Star Ferry in Hong Kong.
The city on the far side looks modern, perhaps not so modern as Hong
Kong, but with a few skyscrapers. The air as you cross is not as cool
as we'd hoped, but it was better than being in the van.
At the far end we drove into Georgetown (a.k.a. Penang). Penang
was once a pirate island, the base of pirates who preyed on ships
carrying goods to and from Malacca. The British wanted it as a base,
leasing it from Sultan Abdullah of Kedah, though supposedly both sides
knew he had no claim to the island. The Brits were anxious to lease the
land from someone and the Sultan obligingly accepted their money,
anxious to be paid for something.
Not far from where we were dropped was the Cathay Hotel listed
among the moderately-priced hotels. Mr. Tee helped us find it.
The place was run down but clearly was some sort of a showplace in
the 1920s. Binayak told Mr. Tee to wait while we got cleaned up because
he was going to show us where to eat dinner. Tee, seemed obliging
enough, though Evelyn and I were concerned we were taking too much of
his time.
Our room was sparsely furnished but cavernous. It looked like
something out of an Indiana Jones movie. At some point the place had
been electrified but all the wiring was external. You entered the room
through a big double door with two feet of window above the door. Just
outside the double door were bar-room-style swinging doors. In previous
days, you would open the double doors and the swinging doors still
afforded a modicum of privacy. The room was post-fitted with an air
conditioner and a ceiling fan to keep it cool now.
Mr. Tee patiently waited for us to take us to dinner. When we were
all together we went out on the streets. We found a street where there
were several vendors. They seemed to share some common sitting space.
We went to their carts and ordered soup and noodle dishes and fishball
dishes and a duck. For some of the dishes Tee tried to pay,
occasionally succeeding, but we managed to head him off for most.
We had a whole feast spread out on the table under an overcast sky
when we saw the first bolts of lightning. 'No, it's just bluffing,' we
thought. 'What possible motive would it have for raining on our meal?'
It found one. As our soup became weaker and our duck turned to duck
soup, we rushed to find a protected table and to move our food onto it.
We found a table just under the roof of the restaurant. We all ordered
Pepsi and tee ordered Coke. 'I thought Americans like Coke more than
Pepsi,' he said. 'Some do, some don't,' we explained. This led me to
ask him, 'Do people in Asia think Americans push their own culture too
much onto Asia?' We'd seen a lot of American brands around and a lot of
American restaurant chains. 'Many Americans are sorry to see so much of
their culture exported to Asia.'
'Japanese people push a lot harder than Americans,' he said,
diplomatically leaving the question unanswered. We talked a while
longer. Tee's parents were from Kuang-chou--the city we call Canton.
Eventually we bid farewell to Tee. I told him it had been our good
fortune to meet him.
Steve wanted to find the telephone office so he could complete the
call he failed to make that morning. We found the office. Both he and
Barbara called the States. I thought of calling my parents but it would
have been too early. It was 9:45 PM in Malaysia, so it was 9:45 AM in
New York and 6:45 AM in California. We killed thirty minutes on the
street. People were still coming up to the open restaurants. Some
people eat late. I tried calling my parents but they must have been out
for the weekend. I left a message on their machine and we headed back
for the hotel.
October 21, 1990: There were noises in the walls. Perhaps it was
a Chinese ghost but at 4 AM we heard some very active sounds above our
heads. We were on the top floor so there were no rooms up there. It
was a little mysterious but the racket whatever it was made was amazing.
It was something pretty vigorous, making all that noise.
In the morning we went out on the street for breakfast. We had a
Muslim roti. This was sort of like a thin layer of bread over meat and
onions. It was okay, but I wouldn't want to have it too often. An ad
on the wall informed us in English that Lucky Strike is 'an American
original'--whatever that is. It did not appear to be a tourist
restaurant--they just get the same advertising we get in the United
States. I wonder how many of the locals are impressed that Lucky is an
'American original.' While eating I read a newspaper which reprinted a
New York Times editorial suggesting that Israel had been duping the
United States. Sentiment here is strongly anti-Israel, not
surprisingly.
It was election day in Penang and so many of the shops were closed.
Steve found a place to change money. We next had to go to the train
station to get tickets for the sleeper the next night. We could not
find a cab that would take all of us so Steve and Binayak took a
trishaw--it was like a bicycle with a carriage at the front. Some say
that is politically better than a rickshaw because of the mechanical
advantage. It still bothered me to have someone slaving in the sun to
transport us. Later we would ride a trishaw; for now we rode a cab. We
rode faster than a trishaw can travel and we were riding for a while. I
was sure we were well and truly separated from Steve and Binayak. There
is a sort of market by the train station and Barbara went to check it
out while we watched from Steve and Binayak. It was a good two or three
minutes before their trishaw pulled up to the station. I cannot figure
out why their trishaw got there so much faster than we would have
expected. Our cab was not metered and we'd determined a price before
the ride. There was no advantage to the driver to take a roundabout
route. Apparently he must have anyway to save us from a long wait at
the station. We bought the train tickets from a woman clerk in full
Muslim apparel, covered so we could see most of her face but that was
about all. Nonetheless she seemed happy and smiled at us. In Egypt the
women dress in much the same way but dourly avoided foreigners. Perhaps
Allah is not quite so strict in Malaysia as He is in other parts of the
world.
From there we walked to Fort Cornwallis. It was Captain Light who
negotiated the lease of Penang Island from Sultan Abdullah and he did
that in 1786. He built a wooden fort to defend his leased island.
Between 1808 and 1810 convict labor was used to rebuild the fort i stone
so that the Big Bad Wolf, who at that time might have been Napoleonic,
would have a harder time huffing and puffing. The Big Bad Kangaroo,
however, would have less trouble because the walls were only about
waist-high. A number of cannons still stand, including one that local
women put flowers into for fertility. It was here that I first became
aware of the alarming numbers of cats in Penang. They were all over
everywhere, but their numbers were particularly great in the fort. I
think there is a secret in Penang that nobody wants to talk about that
the cats are in control. We saw the contingent that held the fort.
Penang Island is now run by and for the cats.
Incidentally, in both Thailand and Malaysia we noticed that the
cats all had docked tails. The tails were of various lengths but
usually they were cut short to some extent. Some had bulbous tails,
possibly from a docking that went wrong. We later read of a local
belief that a cat with a docked tail cannot jump over a dead man. And
you don't really want cats jumping over dead men. Kitty jump over dead
man, dead man get up and walk around. And one thing that transcends the
culture barrier is that none of us wants dead men getting up and walking
around. It leads to all sorts of negative complications.
From there we took trishaws to Khoo Kongsi, a Chinese clan house.
It was considered too ornate for mere mortals, decorated in the ancient
Chinese style with statues and carvings and lanterns all over. It was a
bit too ornate for my taste but then--though it has yet to be proven--I
suspect I am a mere mortal. Across the way from this ornate building
was a stage used to put on Chinese operas.
Next our fleet of three trishaws visited Sri Mariammam Temple.
There most of the ornateness is reserved for the roof but that is also
garishly ornate with statues of Hindu deities. It is dedicated to the
goddess Mariammam, whose architectural taste was suspect. Notable are
statues of Ganesha (?), the elephant-headed god. I have to say one
aspect of the Hindu religion is unique. From what I heard it rarely or
never has a concept of a different religion. If they find a god someone
else prays to, they adopt it as a lesser deity. It is just a sect of
Hinduism. So we all are already Hindus without realizing it. If
another religion took the same approach, each religion would subsume the
other and you would end up with a very strange structure. I wonder how
Hindus would treat a religion like Scientology.
It being excessively hot and approaching the hottest part of the
day, we went back to the hotel to rest and sort of siesta. The streets
are fairly empty and most things closed due to election day.
About 3-ish we went out again in the hot sun. We walked around the
shop-houses of Muntri and Stewart Streets. Most were closed. We saw
the Malay Mosque, at least from the outside. Non-Muslims were not
permitted in.
We ended up back near Sri Mariammam Temple and had lunch in a
shop-house across the street. We tried to order Indian dishes; the
owner kept trying to steer us to his version of Western dishes which he
apparently wanted to try out on us. 'If you don't like it, you don't
pay.' He ended up serving us an unordered plate of fried chicken on
that basis. It was not as good as his Indian food but it got eaten. We
stayed there a little longer than planned because the rains came.
Afterwards we wandered the streets a bit on our own, but this was one
dead city. The combination of the Sunday afternoon and the fact it was
election day meant things were pretty dead. We ended up at the Komtar
Centre, a shopping mall in the tallest building in Penang, a fair-sized
skyscraper. It was well air-conditioned, which meant it was a blessed
relief. Being about the only thing open in Penang, it was a beehive of
activity. There were a lot of Western chains serving food that was
guaranteed halal (the Muslim equivalent of kosher). There was A&W,
White Castle, McDonald's, and Kentucky Fried Chicken. Not very exotic,
but it was at least cool. Afterward we went back to our rooms to write.
The others went out to a bar for a drink but Evelyn and I did not go.
October 22, 1990: Overnight I think we established our Chinese
ghosts were playful cats living either on the roof or in the attic above
our heads. They were very noisy. Apparently they were above our room
only. Nobody else heard them.
This was another day that Barbara and Binayak were going a
different way that we and Steve were. The three of us had breakfast in
a Chinese place. Our lack of local language did sort of get in the way. |
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| Copyright © - "Mark R. Leeper" |
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