A new day a new country
Trip Start
Feb 11, 2009
1
66
74
Trip End
Ongoing
Georgetown, Pinang, Malaysia
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
The scowl must have worked its charms, as despite the ferry being cramped with cattle like tourists (as usual), nobody dared sit next to me. Sweet result, more space and less forced early morning small talk. Munched on a nutritious and delicious breakfast of sesame seed crackers, before stretching out and snoozing away the journey. Arriving in Krabi, I was met with surprising efficiency by my driver, and was directed to the standard minivan affair. Soon after, I was joined by a couple of unfriendly German girls and a South African dude who was possibly the only person on earth to out scowl me that morning. I was both impressed and intimidated by this scowl. It wasn’t a very friendly atmosphere it has to be said, although at least with just four of us we could stretch out a bit. It was also rather sweaty (why do they use that faux leather rubbish for seats in hot and humid climates?). As we sped along the South African started complaining about the driving, and I was surprised to note that I hadn’t really realised the guy was speeding and swerving. India and China must have lowered my safety standards, or at least numbed me to nerves.
After a quick and chatless lunch and a few more hours driving, the South African and I were moved to a different van for the final hour or so before the border. I finally got speaking to him, and it turns out Clinton is actually a fairly good guy. He’d been working on Phi Phi as a dive master for four months, and was just heading to Penang for his visa run. His scowls were caused both by boredom (he’d done this journey a few times before) and by a blazing hangover (as we all know, Thailand divemasters swim around by day and chase tourist girls in bars by night). Having snapped out of my morning moodiness, the company was appreciated and helped pass the time as we went through immigration and continued to sit in the van until 7 or 8pm.
Arriving in Butterworth, we crossed the channel to Georgetown on the car ferry. A real blast from the past, reminded me of the old days in Hong Kong and the few times we took the car across the harbour on the ferries. Now I think about it, the crossing and the view itself wasn’t all that different to Hong Kong either, although the night skyline is obviously rather more lowrise and less spectacular than in HK. We chatted to a Malaysian business man, who with his distinctly Chinese face and accent again reminded me of home.
We were unceremoniously dumped out of the van into the middle of the street. Looking around it was clear we were in Chinatown, and thankfully the man Clinton knew a place we could stay. Checked in, money exchanged and other formalities completed, it was time to hit the streets. Immediately got a very good impression indeed. Looking around, there were endless signs that the area was inhabited by Cantonese people - the smells, the food, the characters, the temples etc etc. Combined with the rundown British colonial architecture and grizzled expats sitting in bars, I couldn’t again help but to think this is what Hong Kong must have been like before the rapid development and highrised buildings set in. As I wasn’t alive in that period I obviously have no way of knowing for sure, but it’s a strong hunch and I’m sticking with it. Anyway, I was happy and I felt at home, and I was glad to realise that being surrounded by the Chinese brought such a positive response. It somewhat justifies my decision to ditch Indonesia in favour of six more weeks in China. Also excited about Penang now, I’m aware there is also a strong Indian community here so I look forward to some interracial wandering tomorrow, amongst the decaying backdrop of a former colonial playground.
After dinner at a street stall (Cantonese fried pork, niiiice, classic) we headed back to the guesthouse to rest before bed. Clinton pointed out that on his previous visits here, he’d noticed a number of late middle aged gents who seemed to have lost the plot. Couldn’t help but to agree. There were quite a few sitting on their own, drinking themselves into oblivion. Also one or two who in all honesty just seemed completely mad, waving their arms around and muttering to themselves etc. Quite sad really. Anyway, we sat in the bar chatting for a bit. As he was South African, I played it safe and avoided politics, sticking to less controversial subjects such as great white sharks and slipping standards within British education. Then it was toodloo, nighty night, and I never saw him again. Cheerio Clint, happy diving.
