We wake in George Town and decide against going for the early morning jog that we’d promised ourselves the previous evening. Must have been the cocktails talking. It’s another scorcher outside, but armed with a freebie map from the hostel, we brave the heat to do some sightseeing. George Town is a city of more than 1.2 million people that lies on the north-east corner of Penang Island. It was founded in 1786 by Captain Francis Light, a trader for the British East India Company, and much of the city is steeped in British history, with its CBD listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Pete and I start the day with a walking tour of the city’s heritage zone, visiting an overgrown cemetery where the town’s first Mayor is buried, along with a host of other British settlers.
The real highlights of George Town, though, come right at the end of the day. Pete has read about trishaws (like Vietnamese rickshaws) and waves one down for us to do some sightseeing the lazy tourist’s way – being biked around by a local. Our trishaw driver says people call him Lim - "That's L-I-M", he tells us. Lim is a legend of a man. The trishaw he rents is one he’s driven for 20 years. He says he loves the job, which affords him independence. But clearly he also loves chatting to tourists, as there’s barely a quiet moment. He’s lived in Penang all his life and has three grown-up children. He loves the city of George Town and knows almost everything about it, from the years that buildings were erected, to the various practices of religious and cultural groups active in Penang, the history of Malaysia and the Commonwealth, and who has reigned here throughout the years.
The real highlights of George Town, though, come right at the end of the day. Pete has read about trishaws (like Vietnamese rickshaws) and waves one down for us to do some sightseeing the lazy tourist’s way – being biked around by a local. Our trishaw driver says people call him Lim - "That's L-I-M", he tells us. Lim is a legend of a man. The trishaw he rents is one he’s driven for 20 years. He says he loves the job, which affords him independence. But clearly he also loves chatting to tourists, as there’s barely a quiet moment. He’s lived in Penang all his life and has three grown-up children. He loves the city of George Town and knows almost everything about it, from the years that buildings were erected, to the various practices of religious and cultural groups active in Penang, the history of Malaysia and the Commonwealth, and who has reigned here throughout the years.
First up, Lim takes us to the Mosque, where we stop to take photos and are invited inside – as long as we don long black robes. It’s so hot that I don’t do all the buttons up on mine – my first cultural faux pas of the trip, I realise, when I accidentally show a big of leg. The tour guide stares me down, and motions for me to cover up. He’s very friendly though, and gets into a deep conversation with Pete about the differences between Islam, Hinduism, Judaism and Christianity.
Returning to Lim’s brightly decorated trishaw, with its plastic flowers and colourful foil windmills that remind me of the Whenua Tapu cemetery back home, he takes us through China Town, where we’re greeted by the huge banging noise of fires crackling in pots on the street outside a Chinese temple. There are traditional Chinese dances taking place, and pigs’ heads roast on a spit. It’s preparation for Chinese New Year, Lim tells us, and the smoke from the fire burning in the street is to request good luck for the celebrations. In the temple next door, Lim shows us the statue of the God of Prosperity, which is placed into an ornate gold and glass case once and year and paraded around the town.
Lim takes us to a tiny village built on the wharf, where we see families going about their day-to-day business; baskets of goods are being cycled down the wharf, children wave to us and happily pose for photos as they paint a fence in bright colours, and the elderly snooze in wicker chairs as the afternoon sun envelops the entrances to their homes. Lim also takes us to Little India, and we tell him we’re heading to Big India, the real deal, in just a day’s time. He says he’s never visited India before, and he doesn’t think he ever will. “In my imagination, I know Penang is much better place than India," Lim says. "Here, no one ever go hungry. No one ever go without food. The Malay people – they look after each other, you know. No poverty here.” We nod in agreement, and I realise I haven’t quite prepared myself for the next few weeks ahead.
The trishaw ride was meant to last an hour, but by the time we bid farewell to our new Penang friend, two hours have disappeared. We happily pay Lim more than the requested 25 ringgits per hour, and both declare it the best tour of a city we’ve ever been on.
We wander back through the beautiful colonial part of town, collect our laundry and head off for another walk. Pete’s also read about the largest live fish shop in South East Asia, right here in George Town. It turns out to be an aquarium, as opposed to a market where you go to buy fresh seafood for dinner, but we take a look anyway. Pete takes a keen interest in the Super Red Arowana, advertised as being “an excellent jumper”. There are rows and rows of tanks, and then around the corner we come across an English Cocker Spaniel puppy, some raccoons from Paraguay, hairless Russian Don Sphynxes like Mr Bigglesworth, Dr Evil’s cat, and a spiky green iguana. We ask ourselves what the hell we’re doing in a pet shop in a foreign country, and head back out into the street.
We grab a gelato and catch a bus to Pengang Hill at dusk. At higher than 800m, the lookout promises to provide excellent vistas of the city that's fast becoming one of the loveliest places I’ve ever been. It doesn’t disappoint. The cable car ride up to the top is totally my cup of tea, and the views are picture perfect. I get the chance to try out my bigger camera lens, but still need some practice getting the settings right to capture the magic outlook as the sun sets over Malaysia. We get the best seat in the house at the hotel above the lookout, which makes the ice cold Carlsberg one of the most delicious beers I’ve ever had.
Back down in George Town we sample the city’s Nasi Goreng, satay, freshly squeezed lime juice and more beer before ferrying to Butterworth to board our 11pm overnight train to Kuala Lumpur. As we pull the mustard yellow curtains closed around our bunks on the train, I remember something Mum used to tell us when we were little and couldn’t get to sleep at night – something that her father used to say to her. Instead of suggesting we count sheep, Mum would say, “Well, girls, Grandad used to say to me, ‘At least you’re not sleeping on a train tonight’.”
Tonight, Mum, I actually am sleeping on a train, so I’ve got every excuse not to sleep. But I’m worn out from our day’s adventures with Lim, and before too long I’m nodding off to the chugging of the engine and Pete’s snoring in the bunk across the aisle. George Town – you’re a dream.
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