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"Any movement along a plane surface which is not dictated
by physical necessity is a spacial form of self-assertion,
be it empire building or tourism."
-- Joseph Brodsky, "Flight from Byzantiam" 1985.

The truth is... I didn't really know where Penang was when I bought the ticket. I thought it was somewhere in the South Pacific. It didn't help that the travel agency had it grouped with places like Guam, Saipan, and other oceanic places. The point is that the airfare was cheap and I just needed to get out and, shall we say, exert my non-Japanese self. What did it matter if I was leaving just five days later?

Penang is actually in Malaysia (west coast, north by thailand to be exact). I was informed of this by my guidebook which I purchased in Nagoya just two days prior to leaving. That particular day also held quite a story in itself, even before factoring in my frantic rush to be prepared. But relaying that experience should wait for another day when I will be less embarrassed. So I headed off to an island in Malaysia on the first train out of Tahara -- just me, a backpack, and my Lonely Planet.

Penang's main city is Georgetown. It is the oldest British settlement in Malaysia, older than both Melaka and Singapore. The colonial period buildings still stand and one even houses the local history museum. Most of the city is centered around Chinatown. This is where I stayed as the Chinese hotels were relatively inexpensive and surprisingly clean. You would never know this from the outside. The main drag was Lebuh Chulia, or just Chulia Street. It was here that I saw all kinds of travellers, except Americans, of course. Everywhere I went, the locals seemed surprised that I was not British or German. The cafes, the hotels, the drivers... they all christened me as "the only American in Malaysia."

The first adventure I decided to take on was the slow trip up Penang Hill. Stifled in a funicular train car that sits at about a 45 degree angle, I stood for about thirty minutes until we reached the top of the hill, just over 800 meters above sea level. My guidebook says Penang Hill is "a cool retreat from the sticky heat below," however, my experience said differently. It was around lunch time when I got back down so I stopped to try some Penang Laksa which works well on the palette only if it is accompanied by fresh coconut milk. This is just my opinion, but the drink helps to cut the heat of some spices for which water is useless. Then I headed to the large Buddhist temple of Kek Lok Si. The unfortunate thing about this temple is the the narrow stretch of souvenir shops through which one must pass as it is the only entrance to the temple. The hawkers here are quite frightening and harrassing. I was hot and tired and the smell of incense mixed with the spice from the laksa was starting to make me a little nauseus. It was at this time that I started to wonder if it this whole trip was even worth it. I realized that in a desperate attempt to avoid stagnation I may have made too hasty of a decision. But then came the rain...

Most people are discouraged when rain imposes its grey, heavy self on a vacation. For some reason, it was exactly what I needed. For an hour I was stranded under the overhang by the Hall of 10,000 Buddhas. It gave me the time I needed to breathe, to figure out what I wanted to do instead of what I felt obliged to do. I don't expect this whole notion of touristic obligation to make sense. It just has something to do with my current situation, and nonetheless, one of the things from which I most wanted to escape. The rain turned my entire trip around. It helped calm the bright sun with its clouds, cool the air with its fresh breeze, and add intensity to the colors of the world around me. It was from that moment that my holiday began.

Copyright 2000 H. Krebs