Monthly Archives: February 2012

*you can collapse, now*

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Langkawi43

I’ve just been on one ferry trip, a bus and three planes in the last 48 hours…passing what felt like an interminable 15-hour hiatus through the graveyard hours of the night by sitting on the floor in Bali’s Ngurah Rai Airport—too broke to get a hotel room or taxi into town for a meal—with only a Malaysian comic book (APO? great artwork, full-color, I love it) and a Malay-English dictionary to read. My bahasa Melayu improved considerably, overnight…the most interesting result being that I started to get an inkling of how root words are made into nouns, adjectives, or different verb tenses…which helps if you want to speak more than a rudimentary “Me Tarzan, you Jane” bahasa. Also, got a feel for Melayu slang words…how they’re shortened and stylized for speaking on the street.

A cold/cough virus that I picked up in Penang, early in my trip, was kept in check for two weeks by random doses of assorted vitamins, painkillers, cough syrups, camphor oils, masses of chillies and limes, and probably my sheer determination to stay well whilst wandering foreign countries. I snapped this backpacker next to me at nearly 4 a.m. She was sleeping so deeply that even at 8 a.m. when the lobby filled up with hundreds of tourists milling around and watching her, she didn’t stir. Must’ve overdone some heady Bali delight…

sleeping backpacker, Ngura Rai

Now that I am back in Darwin, the thing seems determined to run its course at double the “Feeling crappy” level.

Looking forward to a slow day at home, uploading my photographs and listening to my music (With one memorable exception on a corner in Little India, where 8-foot speakers on the street set the wh0le block throbbing to Bollywood dance/raga/rap music, I heard no good music these past two weeks: there was nothing playing but the usual Adele/Avril/Gaga pop songs in public places everywhere…I really, really missed it)

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Goodbye, Georgetown! Langkawi, here I come!

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Love in the time of bananas...

Another embroidered postcard: “Love in The Time of Bananas…” of a fruit hawker’s cart and bullion-stitched bananas…and a colored pencil sketch of mangosteens. And a bowl of mee noodles; both from my journal of this trip.

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Hindu temple, Tanjong Bungah

One of many, many fabulous, theme-park gaudy Hindu shrines around Pulau Pinang. This one’s right outside my window at Tanjung Bungah.

Just some pictures, no time to write a post…taking the ferry to Pulau Langkawi tomorrow morning, to spend my remaining 5 or 6 days with a close friend who now lives over there.

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around Georgetown with PC

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Kopitiam crows

From an earlier kopitiam (coffee shop) visit comes this photograph of the large crows that sit under the eaves of the cafeterias, watching for scraps of food that they can swoop down and grab. It’s quite remarkable to be having coffee under the watchful eyes of half a dozen big black crows. I took this while having two black coffees along Jln. Sri Bahari.

Yesterday was a foodie day, spent at kopitiams and food carts around Penang Road.

PC Lim is the creative doyenne of the blog Meijo’s Joy, featuring crafty DIY projects as well as the chuckle-worthy antics that her two little girls are always getting up to.  When PC told me she lived in Penang, I asked if she’d like to meet up while I was there. My first face-to-face with a blog friend! I think we were both really excited.

We finally caught up yesterday, and as soon as I spotted her coming toward me, I felt as though I had known her forever. Many first meetings between slight acquaintances can be strained, or at least subdued. Not so this one; within thirty minutes of being together, PC and I were teasing each other like old friends. We walked around Georgetown arm in arm, PC pointing out all the authentic Penang shops and places to eat, and loading me with an insider’s knowledge of “the real Penang” that I could not have had from any guidebook. A friend who knows the city is worth her weight in gold.

I had nasi biryani with a squid curry, and another dish called “squid eggs” which were not unlike the sacs of fish roe from large fish. Then, at last, the long-desired bowl of ais kacang—not from any of those “famous” ais kacang places along Penang Road (PC says that ever since they’ve been featured in guidebooks, on blogs, and youtube videos, a lot of those “best source of” places have become arrogant, and careless)—but from a tiny wheeled cart down a narrow side street, where you eat standing up, from a little plastic bowl with a stainless steel chinese spoon. And it was sedap! Yummy! She also showed me where that Kek Seng Cafe is, though we were both too full by that time to go and eat again. Tomorrow, I’ll try and find my way back there! My hankering for durian ice-cream has not been addressed yet.

I feel like an idiot, photographing food I’m about to eat…it just seems so wrong to turn even your meals into some kind of National Lampoon’s Vacation documentary, as though life were nothing but material for your photo album…besides, I come from a culture that reverences food, and for reasons I can’t explain, photographing what you are about to eat seems disrespectful.

So you probably won’t see any pics of the food we had today…but I did grab PC’s arm at some point and ask her to stop so I could photograph the entrance of this fabulous building. No idea, once again, what it is…and if I hadn’t accidentally included the street sign, I wouldn’t even remember where I saw this (Jln. Sungai Ujong, and Sungai means ‘river’). As I said before, the streets are completely packed with old buildings, the whole city has been declared a historical reserve, and no buildings, not even the abandoned ones, can be pulled down. It is the most marvelous thing I’ve ever seen…and it’s not just one specimen road for the tourists! The locals still live, work, or run their businesses from these buildings. You could wander Georgetown for days, soaking up and photographing the architectural details.

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While a lot of major buildings have been restored, I find I am partial to the old, crumbling ones…I love the patina on stonework, the peeling paint, the verdigris on the brass, the mossy walls and dilapidated woodwork. I love the evidence of time’s hands having been all over the surfaces…the ancient signs and rotting tiles. All so utterly grand…I find myself feeling nostalgic for the days when Penang was this powerful hub of trade and culture, and here it isn’t even my own culture!

Lion door handles

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A Streetcar Named Desir*

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treehouse

Took this the day before I had a decent map of Georgetown, so I don’t even know where this building is—it was a Chinese school. I was just walking along (totally lost, I admit it) when this house loomed up, standing in a wide open lot. Banyan trees have grown up through the house, and there are even a few smaller trees starting up on the roof. It looked amazing. Penang is absolutely chock-full of grand 18th and 19th century buildings like this, one after the other, up and down the streets…many of them restored to their original dignity. No wonder the whole town was declared a UNESCO World Heritage site.

A Streetcar Named Desir*

I picked up a few romantic black and white postcards of old Penang at a lovely bookshop along Lebuh Chulia. Each evening I sit and stitch one of them. It’s been a nice way to make the mass-produced postcards my own. Thank you, Shaun Kardinal, for the inspiration!

This one’s for Kris, of an old fashioned trishaw in a narrow lorong (lane). I’ve written “A Streetcar Named Desir” on the back, and that’s not a typo. Desir is Bahasa Melayu for “the sound of leaves being blown by the wind.”

journal pages

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Darwin to KL

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somewhere over Bali

My airport scenario sort of went as screenwritten—well, minus the songs and dancing. I was fifth off the plane and had my visa in 5 minutes (a security guard asked me where the hell I thought I was going, trying to jump a barricade, and when I told him my next flight was in the process of boarding, he took my passport and visa fee, went to the head of the long, long queue, and got my visa for me. Dirty looks from people in line. But the Helpless Female archetype has its uses.)

There is no transit lounge at Denpasar airport, I found out. One must first “enter the country” by walking out one side of the building (Welcome to Bali!) and then go round to the departures side of the building (Thank you for coming!) I got to the check-in desk as they were making a last call for me…for a minute my spirit soared: the ground crew sprang into action, a lot of urgent radio conversations ensued…but I was far too late: security gates had shut down long before, and I had yet to go through Customs…not enough time. There would not have been enough time even if Denpasar did have a transit lounge.

As predicted, I ended up having to buy another ticket. Another 150 dollars didn’t kill me, but it left me with 300 bucks for my entire stay here. Inconvenient, but it’s possible to get by on that. When I finally e-mailed Kris and tell him what happened, he replied simply “I knew my cat would land on all fours, no matter which window she fell out of.” This is as close to a pat on the head as I’ll get from him, so I lap it up. It’s sort of like being told “That’ll do, Pig. That’ll do.”

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Made KL by 12:30 a.m.—the bus station had closed but there was a small group of taxi pimps on the street in front of the station, trying to attract passengers. All I had to do was ask “Pulau Pinang?”

A big guy nodded “You come with me.”

He led me down a side street, and put me on the very last seat of an air-conditioned bus bound for Penang, (it took off 5 minutes later)

“Here your change, here your ticket, enjoy Penang!” he said, then opened his arms and asked “Want hug? Ah, only joking, lah!” I like it here, already.

I slept most of the way, and arrived at the Sungai Nibong bus terminal on Pinang Island at 5:30 a.m.

*oink*

Nan desu ka?

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turning Japanese

I think I’m turning Japanese.

(I really think so…)

I woke up last Tuesday morning knowing exactly what I wanted to do, and how I was going to do it:

sushi ATC

Kris insists that nobody will be able to tell what it is unless I put a label or something on the card. I’m a bit nonplussed that he says that: he’s lived in Fukuoka and Hokkaido for 3 years with a Japanese woman, if he can’t tell what it is, maybe nobody else will? He even suggested I hold a quiz on my blog and ask readers “What do you think this is?” Hence the title of my post, “What are you?” Pfft. Men.

*ahem* it’s miniature, embroidered sushi…please tell me you knew it at first glance!

This is an embroidered ATC for Hanna, the creative whirlwind behind iHanna…and this is our first swap, ever! We’ve been stalking each other’s blogs for a while now…to find that the respect and admiration each felt, was mutual. So we’re taking the virtual friendship a teensy step further, now, by agreeing to exchange small-scale embroideries.

sushi ATC scale

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Setting forth on a pilgrimage…

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Penang Sunset

I’m going to Malaysia today!

I have a couple of friends I’m going to visit, but otherwise I’m not planning on visiting a lot of tourist landmarks or geographical attractions. Don’t intend to do any shopping either. I haven’t got any money! I have been making the joke that I will be taking a holiday in homelessness…just to see what that’s like. I bought the tickets very cheaply last July, when I had more dough, but since the kitchen I work at has closed for renovations these past two months, I’ve run out of nearly everything!

But it doesn’t bother me. A little can go a very long way if you aren’t fussy. It’s just for two weeks, anyway. It’s a great way to travel, because you have nothing to lose, you can be in the moment and not constantly watch your wallet, your bags, your gear, your keys, blah, blah, blah…so very little can happen that might spoil your trip.

{ Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator. }

{ Travel light and you can sing in the robber’s face. }
—Juvenal, from Satires no. 10

I’m putting on a pilgrim’s rags, so to speak—taking nothing but a small backpack with few items of clothing and my battered camera, a couple hundred dollars to last me two weeks, no shoes but the cross-trainers I’ll be wearing to board the plane—and I’m off to pay my humble respects to the fabulous Street Food of Penang and Langkawi.

I’m so terrifically excited, I feel ready to burst…I’ll probably wet myself from ecstasy the minute I set foot in Georgetown. :)

the love of food

Murtabak, mee goreng, nasi lemak, asam laksa, char kway teow, fish head curry, teh tarik…my heart starts to race when I think of getting these dishes, in a hundred fabulous variations, piping hot and fresh from the vendors in the streets. Everything cooked with chillies, galangal, lime juice, spices, spices, spices…my idea of heaven on earth.

Also on the hunt for a particular ais kacang made at the Kek Seng Café, served with homemade durian ice-cream.

Wanna see my itinerary?

 

Leaving my laptop at home, along with my dietary restrictions, so you may or may not hear from me…depending on whether I can find an internet cafe that also serves food so that I don’t have to stop eating to write a blog post (heh heh heh)

Back to crafts and regular programming on the 26th of February (see, won’t be too long, but I will be so far behind in TAST that I will probably never catch up…)

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*fingering my worry beads*

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Butterflies in the stomach, and I’m not even out of Darwin!

One of the biggest worries on my mind right now, just as I am about to leave for the airport, is that: because I couldn’t get a direct flight to Kuala Lumpur, I booked two flights…the first from Darwin to Bali, and the second from Bali to KL. This is only the second time I’ve flown overseas (we usually travel by sailboat, and inter-island by ferry) so I didn’t realize when I was booking flights that I should allow a good two hours between one flight and the next, to check in and clear security and all that. My departure to KL is 30 minutes from my arrival in Bali. By that time, even without luggage to collect, the gates and check in counters should be closed, I’ve been told. It’s a promo flight, so there’s no changing things now. Hoo, boy!

My deepest, visceral desire right now is to rock back and forth, moaning and groaning quietly.

Thank God I have Brian Thacker‘s book “Where’s Wallis?” with me…his travel misadventures make mine seem light, by comparison. It will probably, in the end, all boil down to paying more money for a second flight to KL, if I miss the one I mis-booked. That’s okay, but I only have 400 dollars, so another flight will leave me quite poor. Will deal with that. Just get me to KL!

But I am trying to stay optimistic about it…I may just get ushered onto my plane by friendly, sympathetic crew who hold up the pilot, at the very last minute. Something dramatic with the whoel airport rooting for me as I run by…arrive on plane, flushed and glared at by everyone else, but happy. It’s a crappy scene from a la-di-da Hollywood movie, totally unrealistic, I know I am deluding myself. But I will move with that happy ending in mind, anyway…meaning, I’ve got my running shoes on, I am ready to kick and elbow my way off the plane in Bali ahead of everyone else, and ready to sprint through an unknown airport, jump hurdles, bellow across the room at the boarding gate security, papers in hand, in a desperate attempt to get on my flight. Ready, in other words, to make an utter disgrace of myself.

*groannn groann groannn…rock, rock, rock*

What’s the worst that can happen? I end up living in an airport, like Tom Hanks? No, it will boil down to monetary punishment, I think, and the sour looks of the unimpressed staff who have to deal with enough shit without this idiot woman who books her flights, one on top of the other, as though she were hopping city buses.

Kris, the most hardcore traveller I know, is unsympathetic. “You’ll learn,” he shrugs. “You’ll find a way.” I am devastated, but I know he’s right. He won’t even loan me another two hundred dollars in case I have to buy another ticket or pay a penalty. LOL Nothing that really teaches you something is ever easy or unpleasant, and I don’t hold it against him at all. I just feel like knocking my head against a concrete wall for getting myself into this mess. It will not KILL me, I’m sure of that, and you’ve heard the old adage, “What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger…” This I should know, I’ve been in many worse travel situations before…

so why do I feel like throwing up? Keep your fingers crossed for me! Here’s hoping my next post will be from an internet cafe in KL!

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