As much fun as we’ve had posting to a .wordpress.com site, it’s time to move on with a more professional look. Bigger pictures, larger video, faster navigation, easier commenting, and front-page navigation are just a few of the new features we’ve added to the new site. Don’t worry, the old posts will still be avaliable for you to view and we tried our hardest not to loose any of your comments.

Head over to the NEW SITE and take a look at what we’ve been up to. New video, photos, and stories are up with many more on their way.

-Riding Out The Economy.

Sin Kok’s tour of Penang was comprehensive without loosing the touch of the personal. We started the day at the Chew Jetty, which is an old Chinese community that lives at the docks of Penang. Their whole neighborhood is built on stilts, out over the water, and is packed as tightly as possible so that alleys are the only means of exploring the place.

After our tour through the wooden maze at the Jetty, Sin Kok took me to the Peranakan Mansion. Usually I am not really into estate viewing, but this stop was completely worth it. The oppulant mansion was a perfect illustration of Penang as cultural eddy. English society, Chinese tradition, and Malaysian culture were all evident in the mansion and it’s decorations. The trip was particularly cool though, because we happened to stop by during the filming of a movie. So, while I was scoping out the mansion’s Taoist altar, I also got to watch as they filmed a period piece. In the scene we encountered, Chinese students were playing games during a break from study. I saw at least 4 takes and it didn’t look as if the director was happy when we shuffled out.

The tour became more personal as Sin Kok also introduced me to nearly every resident of the city. Penang is a pretty small ‘big city’ and Sin Kok is ridiculously friendly, so in a way it makes sense, but he knows everybody. Between sites we would stop in at the Lexus dealer for a drink and pampering while we talk to his friend. Or at lunch, we would say hi to some former co-workers before finding food of our own. At the Passion of Kerala, where we had the banana lead lunch, he threatened to introduce me to and take a picture of the mayor. I was barely able to convince him I smelled so bad and looked so travel-grimy that it didn’t need to happen.

Finally, after a day of Fort Cornwallis, Kapitan Keling Mosque, St. George’s Church, Kek Lok See Temple, The Jetty, a Clan house, a Taoist Temple, the Mansion, and city hall we were finally on the way to the botanical gardens. Sin Kok fed monkeys and I gazed out over the hill covered lawns, relaxing, as joggers strained to pass by. For a moment, one not had since the cemetery, there was calm. That is until it started pouring and we made a frantic dash back to teh car and eventually my then dripping, drying laundry.

Penang- what a great place. Dutch, English, Malay, Chinese, Thai all coming together. Brick streets and Carlsberg beside English forts and Museums. Chinese food and Indian food outnumbering the Malay places. Buddhism, Taoism, Islam all being happily worshipped together. Amsterdam, in South East Asia, under an Islamic government? A city-state-island with a National Park and the beautiful botanical gardens for urbanites? None of it seems to make sense, but it’s there.

The Teochew Temple is si diang jing (four point gold) style with a breezy atrium in the middle and a massive gate to welcome or repel visitors. The entrance from the atrium is completely open, the whole wall a panel of doors, which is unique to most Taoist Chinese Temples. Once inside, there is a central altar to the patron diety (great uncle) that quickly draws the eye. But, the highlight is surveying the aging ancestral tablets arrayed around the room to honor deceased family members.

The Cheah Kongsi Clan Temple is one of the oldest in Penang and is oozing with character. Though restored, the sagging walls of surrounding buildings were unavoidably the most prominent decorating motif, and though striking, the intricate wall carvings were clearly not a new addition. The temple, tucked back down an alley, was quiet and empty and the two tier structure seemed to glow from all the red and gold that adorned it. Far from a spiritual moment, the effect still separated the building from the rest of Penang, as if the grounds were shielded from the sun’s heat and city’s commerce that permeated the streets. While we were here, Sin Kok took the time to pray, leave incense, and light candles for prosperity before ushering me out to the next site.

I think I particularly liked these stops because they weren’t prototypically ”South East Asian.” Though religious sites are often on the site seeing itinerary, these Chinese inspired temples were far different from the Burmese, Khemer, and Thai wats that I frequented. Plus, since there was no one around, the stops were a nice relaxing break from the bustle of the city and Sin Kok’s bustling pace.

However, let me tell you that this doesn’t have to be the case. If one neglects to do some advanced research, there is still the possibility to subject one’s self to some wild and adventurous living standards. Some of the places I stayed in this month certainly qualify:

1) The broom cupboard under the stairs- Penang. As Rowling described, this chamber came with the intimate knowledge of the location of all your fellow lodgers and a complimentary dust shower whenever someone finally called it a night.

2) The broken tent- Thailand & Taman Negara. My dad taught me three things about the out doors growing up: 1) keep your feet dry, 2) know how to create fire, 3) don’t buy tents with bendy poles, they break. Of course, to cut down on weight and size, I bought a 2 bendy poled bivouac tent last year before heading to Colorado. By its 4th trip, Taman Negara’s hostile environment (the oldest Rainforest in the world), both poles were broken and I was left with glorified yellow tarps to jimmirig with some rope, a tripod, and my pack’s structure to create a home.

3) The Red Dragon hostel- Kuala Lumpur. Normally a dorm will have somewhere between 4 and 10 people in it. Many people can’t handle dorm living, I am ok with it. So to save money in a pricey place, I went dorm at the Red Dragon. 24 people in one sleeping place is excessive, no matter who you are.

4) Hawaii Hostel- Singapore. After my run in with the Singapore police (story here) I had to find different arrangements into the city’s center. Which means, I came out somewhere totally unfamiliar, very hungry, having to pee, and hoping for something relatively cheap in Asia’s most expensive city (Guinness is 14$ a pint). I found a really ricketty looking place pretty quickly, next to an internet place, and across the street from a hawker center. For 15$ a night, I would take it for one (night two was spend sleeping at the train station). This was NOT a traveller hostel. My room mates were a very poor Chinese migrant family. The bathrooms were tubs of dirty water, smoking everywhere, shirts not needed; it was full of ‘character.’ Outside were lots of bored, loitering women. I shook it off. Later that night, as I could barely squeeze up the stairs (lined with men and women and boxes of condoms) to my bunk, I realized who those women were- prostitution is legal in Singapore. That was the first time I have ever slept in a brothel.

5) Twin Pines- Cameron Highlands. Due to 4 straight days of rain, my father’s 2nd rule, and my previous neglect of the 3rd rule, I had to get a hostel during my stay in the highlands. The twin pines was all around, great for me. That being said, it was interesting living in an attic, mat on the floor, dormer so low even my 5’5″ self could barely get dressed. The “walls” were 1/4 inch tackboard.

6)Yee’s Guest House- Kota Bahru. My last and oddest guest house experience. I found Yee’s through the cap driver that I made feel very guilty for charging me the set taxi fee fro the train station. I chose the couch in the community quarters for some afternoon reading the next day. Community might be a misleading adjective as I was the only guest besides Zoo’s retired police friend, who always sat on the couch smoking and watching CSI. I was also down with CSI. So I spent the afternoon with Zoo (the inn-keep) and Mr. Q. Zoo took a liking to me and basically invited me out on a date that night. I literally didn’t have any Ringet left and was going to tough it out on food until I got to Thailand the next day for my train home. Of course I took that date. We walked around the city, checking out some things I hadn’t seen, while Zoo told me about moving to Kuala Lumpur. Zoo was a great guy and though he knew I was straight, still did what he could to bump into me fairly regularly for some body contact (you have to be careful as a gay man, in public, in a Islamic country). Since he was buying dinner, I was ok with this. His invite to come live with him in Kuala Lumpur and work at his new restaurant was a bit more alarming and though he let me decline, he is banking on a visit this October (he plans on renting a car for a road trip). Hopefully he forgets by then.

Now, I am not suggesting hostelbookers is a lesser form of travel or that I am more of a traveler for doing this. In fact, in Europe, before this trip here, and for every subsequent trip I take with a bit of advanced warning, I will use hostelbookers. It’s awesome. But, for those of you out there that want to seek out the sublime here in South East Asia and truly ‘backpack,’ these places are still out there and waiting for you. Frankly, why you would willingly subject yourself to them is beyond me (as I didn’t even save that much money. There are DIRT CHEAP, amazing hostels out there- electric key cards and everything). But, for anyone, if you don’t have much of a plan set up and don’t have time/money/the organizational skills necessary to sit down and set these things up in advance, you will always be able to find a place to stay (unless it’s Octoberfest in Munich… that was cold) and you can bank on it coming with one hell of an experience. The fact that both hostel options -smart surfing and crazy surfing- exist out there makes me very happy.

i·ro·ny

[ahy-ruh-nee, ahy-er-nee] 

–noun,plural-nies.

1. a technique of indicating, as through character or plot development,       an  intention or attitude opposite to that which is actually or ostensibly stated.
2. (esp. in contemporary writing) a manner of organizing a work so as to give full expression to contradictory or complementary impulses, attitudes, etc., esp. as a means of indicating detachment from a subject, theme, or emotion.

Or, if you’re not much of an abstract or technical learner, an anecdote:

Irony is spending 500 USD on a brand new Sony Alpha 230 dSLR camera because you would be going on a month long trip without your photographically inclined companion and not wanting to come back from Malaysia without pictures (as happened during your summer in Italy and semester in Spain [Garrett & Felbs's photos didn't cut it]). As a good little Slovenian, though you were looking at cheaper, entry level cameras, you were going to buy the one that cnet.com recommended and the one that took the best pictures- why buy a camera and come back unhappy with the pictures? So, instead of the 100 USD point and click, you decided you would bite the bullet, spend your savings, and get the big boy camera. For 10 days you had this camera, while you enjoyed the islands of Koh Tarotao National Park in Satun Province Thailand with aforementioned companion who was snapping great shots. Though you took roughly 30 pictures, you knew most wouldn’t be used because of companion’s superior work. But it was better so you could save shots for Malaysia, when he would be gone. You even saved HIS cameras in a water proof bag, for 4 hours, when your kayak sunk in the Andamen Sea (story to come). So, as soon as you board the boat to split with him. You dip the bottom of your camera bag in the water, just barely, not even enough to pool water in the bag; but, just enough to moisten the camera’s body and short the power relay, rendering brand new camera useless for the next month. As you leave your digital media guru, you strain under the 500 USD of dead weight that would be hanging around your neck for the next 3 weeks, until you could use the camera’s warranty. It would even be present when you pulled out disposable cameras for your mementos of Malaysia (or used the D40 your couch surfing host let you borrow for a couple days). Irony is having a fully functional dSLR with Cengiz Yar, but 3 Kodak disposable cameras without him.

In October of 2009, Tony and I were stationed in Chiang Mai, the northern “cultural capital” of Thailand. The city is stated to be a must-see destination in any foreigners’ travels through the country. Our days were occupied by challenging TESOL classes at the famous BP Chiang Mai Hotel in the center of the old city, but we were able to take the weekends exploring the city in its fullest. Most travelers with whom we’ve spoken reflect fondly on their time in the city, and a strong expatriate presence is evident in the numerous used book stores, pizza restaurants, burger bars, and massage parlors. After spending a month wandering Chiang Mai’s honeycomb, I can’t say I love the city. It’s nice to wake up in a cheap guesthouse, drink real coffee, and take a warm shower but within a few short days the major attractions are conquered leaving the same bitter sensation of wasting time in an internet cafe responding to e-mails you neither care about or need to. This being said; it is the perfect starting place for the Mea Hong Song Loop and has more motorbike rental shops than Seoul has coffee huts. For this reason, I chose to make Chiang Mai a jumping off point for my March northern exploration and scheduled a day of sightseeing for Hannah and I.

On a clear day Doi Suthep mountain acts as a western backdrop for Chiang Mai and one of the main tourist attractions is a trip to its mountaintop Wat. Songtows (pick-up truck taxis) can be rented for around 50 baht a person from the city’s western university for a one-way trip up winding mountain road.

On my first trip the Wat Phra That Doi Suthep I was left unimpressed after previously hearing of its grandeur and dealing with the throng of tourists. This time I though I knew what to expecting as we rounded the last corner of paved mountain road in our songtow with a hand-less driver.

As we retched the naga dragons at the base of the temple’s staircase, rain drops started hitting my head and the sun disappeared behind dark purple storm clouds. We reached the summit and purchased our 30 baht entry tickets just as the rain started falling harder. The shops normally filled with tourists had pulled their metal doors shut and we became the only people left at the top of the mountain; spare a very small group of tourists and the Doi Sutep monks. The chedi floodlights turned on and monk started their evening prayers. To be honest I half expected a flood of black-cloaked ninjas to scale the walls and start battling or at least a hail of arrows to land in my vicinity.

To Thais Wat Phra That Doi Suthep is Thailand’s most important pilgrimage destination. Legend states that the relics of Wat Suan Dork were being transported on the back of a sacred white elephant. The elephant climbed Doi Suthep, trumpeted three times, turned around three times, and died, marking the spot for King Ku Nu to build the a chedi to encase the relics.

Any visit of Chiang Mai should include a trip to Wat Phra That Doi Suthep. Its terraces reveal a breathtaking view through the jungle over the plains of Chiang Mai province. The Wat itself is nothing short of spectacular and its golden chedi creates a beautiful and peaceful image in the center of this sacred place. The outer wooden doors are intricately carved with Buddhist depictions and glisten with gold, red, and green paint. Buddism is not something I claim to understand completely, but the places of peace and reflection it has spawned continue to mesmerize me.

An Iron Cross in the Spartan Roman Catholic section of the cemetery.

Georgetown, the principle city of the Malaysian island Penang, is one of the country’s biggest and most prosperous cities. It’s also a historical gateway to the days of British Colonialism, the spice trade, and the East India Company. The brick roads and colonial architecture are a constant reminder of the city’s roots- a trade outpost founded by Francis Light in 1786. But the city’s most enjoyable trip in time is the aging Naval Cemetery.

More commonly known as the “Old Protestant Cemetery,” the Naval Cemetery is the oldest on the island. The Protestant plots are the most picturesque and hold the most notable remains (such as Sir Francis Light), but there is also a less maintained Roman Catholic section connected.

From Protestant to Catholic

Roman Catholic plots left untended.

Forgotten and left behind a gas station and Lexus dealership, the cemetery is located on Northam Road (Jalan Sultan Ahmad Shah), amidst newly developed western restaurants and upscale hotels. But once within the walls, only the faint sound of passing cars is a reminder that you are in the 21st century.

The cemetery is the “coolest” place in Georgetown. The ubiquitous shade provides sanctuary from the intense sun and the crumbling and overgrown graves creates a nostalgic and romantic atmosphere. The graves of traders, seaman, and soldiers are monuments to British Imperialism, manifestations of a British ‘stiff upper lip’ in the face of death and exploration with tags like “Her Majesty’s Rifles,” “Bengal Artillery,” and “British East India Company.” The tuft of jungle is reclaiming the graves with an air of mystery worthy of the “land of mystery.” In fact, the place seems on the wrong continent, as if it would be better placed on the banks of the Ganges or somewhere in Bangladesh.

While relaxing amongst the graves, I couldn’t shake the desire to have tea and read Kipling.

I looked and failed to find the graves of Peachy or Danny, though the graves were real life examples of “The Man Who Would be King.”

I visited the cemetery twice during my 3 days in Georgetown for a new Thai visa. The second was with my new friend and couch surfing host Sin Kok. We came to grab pictures with his Nikon D60 and take a break from the grueling heat. Sin Kok had recently gotten his Penang Tourist Guide license, so his schedule for me during out brief time together was hectic and exhausting (and fantastic), so this was a needed break.

Nap time.

They can’t believe I don’t live Rojak.

Once into a prolonged period of ‘vacation,’ one’s sense of time is completely thrown to the wind. While my ever present watch always ensured I knew the hour, the concept of days of the week, or a day of the month was forgotten. And, for most of March and my time in Malaysia, I operated this way. The only way to mark days/time was to recount the meals that were had. Luckily, Maylasia (and particularly Penang) is a culinary dream come true. I had entered food heaven.  

Fresh crab by the Chew Jetty

I arrived in Penang late, after several van trips that took me from Pak Bara pier in Satun Province, to Hat Yai, across the border, and finally back to the west coast, this time of Malaysia. It seemed wrong to impose on my couch surfing host at such an hour, so I found myself spending the night in the broom cupboard underneath the stairs at a rickety local guest house. With my dark brown hair now long and wild after a week or so at the beach and my thick rimmed glasses on to give my eyes a break from contacts, I felt like Harry Potter. The lights reflecting on black puddles framed in the brick pavement, the melancholy drizzle, and the dilapidated old trade houses of Georgetown’s China Town (and traveler’s road), covered in dirt and suit and besieged by vines, made up a neighborhood that was a real life version of Diagon Alley and I truly felt as if I was in a fictional place. Finding a can of Carlsberg Stout in the fridge at 7-11 and an amazing egg wrapped “special burger” prepared street-side on a griddle, covered in a spicy sauce and wrapped in a fluffy toasted bun didn’t help bring me back to reality. It had been a long time since I had such simple, cheap, fatty, delicious, western decadence. I went to bed.  

Instead of any magical adventures, I spend the first half of the next day running errands- I had a brand new Sony Alpha 230 dslr that needed fixing and a new Thai visa to apply for. Which meant I would need plenty of energy, so breakfast was a must. Though I just headed across the street because it was easy, I had hit the jack-pot: all you can drink Turkish coffee and milk tea, muesli with yogurt and bananas, eggs, baked beans, two sausages, and toast. My errands were uneventful and the next thing of note was another meal. I didn’t yet realize yet that nearly every meal I had in Malaysia would be fantastic, so this seemed ridiculous. Next on the list- Indian.  

On walking back from the Naval Cemetery, I found myself in little India. There was a corner that was bumpin with food stalls and full of people. While trying to peak at the food, I somehow found myself swept up by the crowd and thrown down in a chair and before I thought I had even ordered a Tandoori Chicken set, complete with naan, curries, and yogurt and an additional order of Mutton Marsala were in front of me. It was the best Indian food I have ever have (that being said, I haven’t had a whole lot. Neither Cleveland or St. Louis had huge Indian influences).  

Sniping a 'Pig's Knuckle'

Later that afternoon, I finally met up with Sin Kok, my couch surfing host. Sin Kok has to be one of the best hosts out there. His “couch” is actually a queen size bed, with air con, in a private room, with a TV. Needless to say after a viewing of the masterful and forever underrated Steven Siegal classic “Under Seige,” I slept well. But, before getting the chance. I got to know Sin Kok and his friend over some dinner. The local corner, covered in hawker stalls, was street food central. A corner that could hold its own in downtown Bangkok. We got chicken wings, rice cakes, shrimp dumplings (Sui Kou), and grilled prawns (Ikan Bakka) to share and I was introduced to Curry Mee, a fantastic, mildly spicy soup. Turns out Sin Kok was an ideal host for more than just his diggs: he was very into photography (Nikon always around his neck), he spoke 4 languages and was studying Korean, he had stories from working at every company who’s electronic products have failed on me (Sony, Dell, etc.), he loved food (as his girth suggested), was ridiculously friendly and energetic, and had recently gotten a tour guide license. He knew everything about Penang and couldn’t wait to get started telling me about it.  

 

Sin Kok's friend Howard gettin' down on the Banana leaf lunch. More curry!

The next two days with Sin Kok were a face paced race through Penang spent seeing and learning about all of it’s delights: the colonial influence, the many religious structures, the cultural neighborhoods, and historical stops. Luckily, it was also an Anthony Bourdain worthy tour of the island’s best eateries, as could only be provided by a  local. One morning was traditional Cantonese Dim Sum that would have sent Dave Kocab to allah, another my introduction to Malaysia’s finest- Roti Cannai; a flat bread filled with any combination of egg, onion, and garlic, and covered with curry. For lunch, he took me to experience (again for the first time) a banana leaf lunch and mango lassi (basically a smoothie) worthy of Kerala. And, after learning that I loved seafood with the passion of a thousand Abelards, we headed down to the jetty to pick out dinner (with Sin Kok’s best friends) at a Chinese grill normally reserved for special occasions: we feasted on baked crabs, huge mantis prawns, steam egg and tofu, mixed vegetables, chiley (a tiny shell fish that looked inedible at first sight), kappar, er char kuay, and parpadum chips. Afterwords, the party went to sea side Persiaran Gurney (Georgetown’s most fashionable road) for desert- muah thi, a sugar covered dough, and rojak, Malaysia’s oddest and most loved desert, a bitter black sauce on fruit salad.  

Picking out dinner with Fiona

Figuring out how to eat 'chiley'

Chiley

  

The three days were a culinary awakening with the Island’s best fixer. I assumed Malaysia would offer basically the same food as Thailand. Little did I know most of it, like Penang, would offer an amazing array of different cuisines: Chinese, Malay, Indian, Thai, and English. The food was so particularly delicious, that I couldn’t rationalize covering it in the posts about Penang’s places and people; it needed it’s own feature, even if it was nothing more than a catalog of the dishes for the record. I actually take comfort in the thought that there was no Flip to cover it, because I could never deliver the tour with as much success as god himself… er, I mean Anthony Bourdain.    

Looking for dessert.

  Bond, James Bond