Malaysia – Penang

This place, in stark contrast to other places, was interesting. As such, I’ve decided to split this in to two. This also means that it looks like I’ve done twice the writing and makes me look motivated.

We took a bus from Krabi to Penang. Whilst it wasn’t the white knuckle experience which we had learnt to expect from Myanmar transport, it had grumpy bus drivers who wouldn’t stop the bus for any reason (toilet stop / lunch stop / armageddon) and a very inaccurate time schedule so we arrived four hours late despite no visible hold ups whatsoever. I feel like this top trumps of shite bus journeys will continue – printed editions will be available upon termination of our trip.

Phoebe making children scream. 
Phoebe attempting to join in with the local population. Apparently, the painted on kids laughed at her (I told her off for telling tales).
We stayed in an ecolodge for our first two nights, i.e. It had a few spider plants and a permeating smell of fermented milk. The owners, adorable in a husky, hippie kind of way, seemed truly affronted that I had never tried such a thing.
Georgetown is a small city hub on the coast line of a mountainous and jungle filled island. It is filled with historic buildings and street art is plastered all over like wallpaper in a retirement home displaying various political messages, most of which flew about three miles over the top of Phoebe and Alec’s ignorant little pea brains. It’s Chinese New Year here. Whilst I feel one day is ample to celebrate such a thing, apparently I am foolishly mistaken and thus fifteen days are necessary. The consequence of this is that approximately one restaurant, a postcard seller and an ice cream seller (of sorts) make up the islands service sector for the period we are staying. At one stage in a long day of stumbling around getting lost, we were shepherded into a posh mansion by an endearing Indian man with an umbrella to be shown an opium chair and be offered bird’s nest soup. Rather than dine on a poor birds home however, we decided to go to the one restaurant and enjoy a bowl of steamed bread (baked bread is presumably in one of the six thousand closed restaurants).
As standard, I sit on a seat for just a moment and I get hit on. I let her down easy, I said I don’t date girls whose legs were flaking away. She said she understood.
I lied a little bit, the food here is actually really good in a “oh, this is a nice bowl of sweetcorn and ice cream kind of way”. It seems the method here is that you take a dish, randomly turn a page in a dictionary and add whatever edible item is on that page. This sort of procedure has bought us the delights of an oyster omelette, grass noodle milk soup  and frog porridge (all genuinely, sadly true). Phoebe had toast this morning.
Oyster Omelette (the pukey looking/tasting thing), a wrap with five unnamed ingredients and a bowl of noodles (we made sure no frogs were included)
I’ll add stuff about Chinese New Year and Penang Hill next time.
Alec + Phoebe + the one frog not put in a porridge

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