Malaysia

Contraband Whiskey, a Late Train, and Satellite Dishes

Thailand train1

A provincial train station along the way.

I am in the Thai border town of Pedang Besar, having crossed over from Pedang Besar, Malaysia. I’ve been directed down the road by a police officer to catch the bus to Hat Yai. As I’m walking past a large covered platform accommodating three large women, one of them asks, “Where you going?” I tell them and am told to sit down. This is the bus stop.

I am offered sliced papaya, which is delicious. They ask me if I speak Thai, and I respond in the negative. But that doesn’t stop them from speaking to me in Thai for the next ten minutes, giving stilted translations of what they’re saying along the way. I take out my phrasebook and pretend to study it.

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Delicious Food, Monks, and a Racist Bar Proprietor

Penang KekLokSi

Kek Lok Si Temple from the street leading up to it.

I’ve just eaten some very tasty vegetarian Chinese buffet (that I would return to more than once while in Georgetown), and I’m walking around aimlessly. A couple of trishaw (bike taxi) drivers are seated on the sidewalk playing checkers with beer bottle caps. On the building across the street is a large mural of a trishaw driver lounging in his carriage, waiting for his next costumer.

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Mud, Tea, and Selfies

CH hike

Almost to the top of Gunang (Mount) Brinchang. This is the best view I got. It’s not so bad.

The temperature in KL is already miserable by the time we leave at 8 in the morning. As we ascend through the lush hills, the outside temperature starts to resemble the air-conditioned tundra that is common in these types of buses. The mountains are covered in greenery and fog. When we step off the bus in Tanah Rata, it is refreshingly un-miserable.

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Highways, Monkeys, Beer Towers

KL JalanAlor

Jalan Alor, an entire street of food stalls. At times, it feels like Mulberry Street in New York City. Hosts wielding menus try to draw you into their restaurant, which looks identical to the three next to it.

Just as I’m finishing up my meal on Jalan Alor, a street lined with restaurants – tables and chairs set up in the street – I feel a few drops, and then I see umbrellas being set up around the tables. I finish my beer, pay, and start walking. Within five minutes, it’s pouring. It’s that kind of downpour that you knew would come, that you even hoped would come, when it’s still hot and humid when the sun goes down.

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Ships, Steam Irons, and Noodles

It is so remarkably easy to walk around and see everything that one wonders whether the Hindu founders, the Portuguese conquerors, the Dutch, and then the British built this town as a major fort and trading post adjacent to the Straights of Melaka, or as a future attraction for weekenders with cameras. Large signs alert you to where you are: “Little India,” “Jonker Walk.”

Melaka Windmill

An old watermill on the river. The river cruise leaves from a few hundred meters away.

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