Mal is a sturdy British fellow somewhere in his 60’s. He’s retired and been in Thailand for about the last 15 years. He likes to keep busy so he will drive friends and acquaintances as needed. He does take a fee for his services but it is more of a hobby than a job. Mal is a friendly cheerful sort who trades jibes and gossip with Random as we roll down the highway.
We are dropped off at the international terminal at the new Bangkok airport. The layout is much better than the old airport, which is located closer to Bangkok. I would have to say that it is a superior design to most other airports I’ve seen as well.
After checking in at Asia Airlines and getting out boarding passes we go up to an upper level for a quick breakfast. Then it’s time to hot foot it down, pay the 500 baht exit tax, go through immigration to be checked out and stamped then onto the gate to wait for the mad dash for the plane. Asia Airlines is takes the no-frills concept of Southwest and pushes it a little further.
Flights on Asia Air are open seating, first come, first serve. From the time the airline personnel announce boarding until the plane is fully boarded and ready to taxi down the runway, it’s something of a loosely controlled mob scene moving from the terminal, to the tarmac, to the shuttle, to the gangway, on to the plane. I didn’t notice anyone actually trampled, but there were a couple of clearly experienced little old ladies, I took care not to get in the way of.
The flight from Bangkok to Penang was between an hour and a half to two hours. While most of the passengers were of decidedly Asian extraction, looking around, there were several other farang on board. While I didn’t speak to any, it was reasonable to assume they were likely seeking similar visas as us. I slept fitfully until I felt the plane bank and heard the usual electronic ding and the flight attendant’s voice announcing our arrival.
The Thai Consulate in Penang is open from 9:00 to 12:00 and from 14:00 to 17:00 Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. There are two flights daily from and to Bangkok to Penang; one at 7:00 and one at 17:00. The Consulate requires a day to hold your passport, go over your visa request and return it to you the next afternoon. Our hotel is about a half hour from the airport, the Consulate is about another forty-five minutes beyond the hotel.
As soon as the plane landed and we disembarked, the race was on. We made our way through Malaysian customs and immigration and on out to the taxi vendor. It was a much more orderly and organized affair than the Bangkok version. You go to a small office at the airport lobby, tell them where you want to go, pay for the fare and get a voucher. You take the voucher out to the waiting line of cabs and wait for the next cab to roll up.
As we walked out of the lobby to the short line of people waiting for cabs, we noticed a rather distracted looking fellow in a tan rumbled suit and tie. Always one to start a friendly conversation, Random stepped up smiling and asked if he was headed for the Thai Consulate. So are we, would you mind if we share the cab?
So we pile into the cab and off we go. As we head towards the Consulate, we learn that our new companion is a fellow American ex-pat who’s been in and out of Thailand since 1982. He tells us to excuse him but he hasn’t slept much in the last day or two partly because he has been preparing to come to Penang to apply for a business visa and partly because of “that woman I’m living with.”
J. had taught English, been a copy writer and worked for one of Bangkok’s newspapers until it had recently closed. His new business, based on his description, appeared to be a editing and copy writing consulting business.
We reach the Consulate. It is a relatively small and nondescript building. There are a few Malaysian’s standing or sitting around amidst the several westerners and Thai or other Asian nationals who are either standing in line or who are filing out forms. The line leads up a set of steps to a service window where a Consulate staff member accepts documents.
One of the Malaysian staff hands us each a blank visa form and a receipt that will be stamped and returned to us for our passports, which we will be held with our visa requests. We fill out the forms and turn them in with our passports and two passport sized photos. The fee is 100 Malaysian Ringitts, which to American eyes look very much like Monopoly money.
Our friend J. is staying in the opposite direction from us, so we part company, take a new cab and head for our room. Penang is actually the name of the island state in Malaysia where we are. The name of the city is Georgetown. Georgetown was founded in 1786 by the British East India Company and named after England’s King George III.
We reached our hotel and checked in. The woman behind the counter was pleasant and spoke English well. After settling in and (with the assistance of hotel staff) getting the air conditioning unit started. We laid there on our beds discussing options. Random pointed up towards the ceiling and wondered what the small green arrow was up there for.
Malaysia has a large Muslim population and qibla arrows are placed on the ceiling in most hotels pointing toward Mecca for prayer.
We hadn’t eaten since breakfast and decided to go out and see what we could find. After receiving directions which we ultimately misunderstood, we ended up a few streets away from our hotel and passed a few varied restaurants.
As far as we could tell, there were few if any other Caucasians in the area and we enjoyed (sic) an experience unfamiliar to many American white people; we were the object of scrutiny ranging from covertly curious to overtly suspicious though I suspect not exactly fearful. As far as I could tell anyway, no one locked their car doors or hurriedly crossed the street to avoid us.
Although we had walked past a Thai restaurant, we settled on one featuring Chinese food. There was a wide assortment of dishes virtually unknown to a typical American Chinese restaurant. I settled on some relatively safe looking mixed vegetables and rice while Random was a bit less cautious. The food came out family style; over the course of the meal we ended up each sampling the others choices.
After eating we found a 7-11 and picked up some comfort (junk) food and returned to the hotel. The lobby had a set of book shelves featuring many books in English. Random and I stopped by and ended up checking out a few to help pass the time. We had already looked at the television offerings in our room, and while there did appear to be a few shows in English, they were sporadic at best and limited mostly to old sitcoms or police dramas.
About an hour or so after returning to our room Random began to complain of a head ache and a general feeling of illness.
Random enjoys being sick about as much as I do, which is to say; not at all. It soon became apparent with the headache, followed closely by diarrhea and vomit, that something wasn’t agreeing with him. I had sampled everything he had but felt no ill effects. In between toilet runs, Random explained that he has a fast metabolism and sensitivity to certain Asian food that he doesn’t always remember to be careful of.
After a while he had settled down to just lying there feeling miserable. I was feeling a bit shaky but thought I might see about finding him something for the headache and maybe help settle his stomach. I went down to the lobby and asked the lady behind the desk if there was anywhere closer than the 7-11 that sold aspirin.
My voice had gone a little soft and I had to repeat myself, I added that my friend wasn’t feeling well and I wanted to get him some aspirin and something to eat and a soda to help calm his stomach. She quietly and carefully looked at me for a few moments.
"I have aspirin”, she said as she wrapped two tablets in a napkin. She then called over one of her staff and gave him some orders in Malay. She looked back at me. “You want food, can you eat Indian? I have him get you chicken and rice should only be 10 or 12 Ringgett. Ok? You wait here in lobby, he bring back to you and two cokes, OK?”
I figured that would work and it would be easier than me making my way back to the street with the 7-11 and the restaurants. I said OK and went over and sat in the lobby. I could feel my left foot cramping and the tremors fighting against the medicine I had just taken. Fuck it. I sat and waited.
Sooner than I would have thought, the guy she had sent off returned with two packages wrapped in newspaper and two cokes. I gave thanks and a 20 Ringgett bill, waving off change and took everything up to the room.
As I approached the door, I realized that we didn’t have any plates or utensils. The hotel offered a continental breakfast on the top floor but no other room service. I went back to the elevator and rode up to the top. I quietly slipped in and out with a couple of small plates and spoons.
Back in the room, I gave Random the cokes and the aspirin and unwrapped one of the food packages. It turned out to be fried chicken with curry sauce and rice. I sampled some and immediately realized that the curry would probably not be helpful to Random’s stomach at the moment.
I scrapped away some rice that had the least amount of curry on it set it on the night stand near Random’s bed and left the room. On the ride down to the lobby I did some deep breathing and some of the mental gymnastics I’d been working on since last summer. The medicine was also finally starting to kick in, which helped.
When the elevator doors opened I had my focus and breezed out past the desk and onto the street. It’s always good for me to go with momentum so I kept my stride and found my way back to the street we had been on earlier in the day.
I first stopped at the Thai restaurant and ordered some plain rice and chicken for take away. I walked on down to the 7-11 and picked up some more aspirin and some pills the clerk and I figured would help an upset stomach. At least that’s how we figured it between my English and her Malay with some pantomime mixed in.
I kept moving and rolled back to the Thai place for the pick up and on to the hotel. The lady behind the desk appeared to have a relieved expression on her face as I reentered the lobby, waved and disappeared into the elevator.
The un-curried rice and chicken and the pills seemed to help and Random was feeling better before I fell asleep.
We both slept late. When we woke up it was about 15 minutes to 11 and the end of the continental breakfast. Random had gotten up and was taking a shower as I continued to lie on my bed.
It happens sometimes, there is no clear reason why that I can figure out. I sleep peacefully through the night only to wake up as my alter ego “pretzel boy”. As it turned out, this was going to be such a morning.
I lay there trying to distract my body with my usual abstract thought tricks like “the only power this thing has is the power that my mind gives It.”, and “Truth is relative, nothing is true, This isn’t true and only my mind is making it real” along with a few choice expletives mixed in because I’ve always been rather good at swearing.
Ever since I started practicing it; this bizarre assortment of mantra has seemed to work for me in about 10 or 15 minutes. Or maybe I’m really just fooling myself and the bloody painful twisting of my muscles only lasts 10 or 15 minutes. Who really knows?
It was about 5 minutes to 11 and Random asked me if I could make it to the door. I told him to never mind and just go eat breakfast and either I would make it or I would eat later. “I could drag you up there?” he offered smiling at me.
“Get the fuck out of here and go eat.” I said grimacing back at him.
Roughly 8 minutes later the tension eased enough so I could pull on my jeans, sandals, a ball cap and limp/walk to the elevator. When I got to the top floor and into the café, Random was sitting at a window table with coffee and a mostly clean plate in front of him. He looked up, smiled and called out, “I told you he’d make it.”
Looking around I saw the kind lady from the receptionist desk carrying over a plate of eggs meat and toast. She was smiling at me. “You want juice? Coffee?” she asked.
My voice not quite up to full power, I smiled and nodded my head at her.
I sat down across from Random, feeling a little bewildered. He looked at my face and laughed out loud. “It seems you had our hosts a bit worried last night.”
“What?”
“I guess you didn’t realize how rough you looked when you went down there.” gesturing at our hostess, “She told me you came down looking for medicine and food for your sick friend and they were thinking what about you? I explained about how I got food poisoning and your ongoing deal. She knew about that boxer who has it and asked if you got it like Ali did. I told her I didn’t know how many times you've gotten your butt kicked, but I think your head maybe harder.”
I laughed and shook my head, “I believe I resemble that remark.”
By this time, she had returned to us with juice and coffee for me.
“You really threw them when you came back down and just walked out. She said they almost went after you but by the time they looked out you must’ve rounded the corner, so she said she was scared until you came back.” Random went on between sips of his coffee. “I told her about you locking up this morning and she said she’d hold breakfast open till you made it up here.”
I looked over to our hostess. I guessed her age somewhere mid to late 50’s. Her expression seemed a mix of concern and disapproval. From my own mother to my last lover, it’s probably one of the most familiar female facial expressions I know.
“It can be dangerous on the streets at night.” She said looking me eye to eye.
I looked back and smiled. “I am sorry for worrying you. Thank you for your kindness.” I said as I lightly touched her hand.
“I believe I should be kind to everyone.” her smile warmed her words a little.
“My husband was always a strong man, worked all the time, took care of us always. A few years ago he was in accident lost one leg. Now he gets around on crutches and we try to take care of him. He thinks he should still take care of us. I see you act like him. I think no matter where in the world they from, men like you and my husband are the same. You should be careful.”
“I try as best I can.” I replied smiling at her.
Again her look back at me portrayed a fifty fifty mix of concern and disapproval. She bowed her head slightly and walked away.
After breakfast Random and I had some time to fill before we could go pick up our passports and visas at the Consulate. We walked back down to the 7-11 and ended up making something of a spectacle of ourselves as we squeezed into a rickshaw together and were peddled around a half dozen odd blocks of Georgetown quite cheerfully by a man old enough to have fathered us.
About halfway through our tour, the rickshaw driver very shrewdly asked us if we’d like to see a nearby fishing village. We said sure and he quickly deposited us at the entrance to what appeared to be very long and wide boat docks. We got out and with the rickshaw driver waving us on assuring us he would “be right here good sirs”, we walked onto the docks. Our driver took a well earned break from peddling us around.
I took a few pictures around other parts of Georgetown. For some reason I will try to articulate, it felt perversely voyeuristic to take pictures amidst these floating homes.
The people were not unfriendly. A few older men and women and some children looked out at us from their simple dwellings. One bear of a man who appeared to have what I’m guessing was a severe and probably painful lymph problem in his right leg and foot; both swelled. He sat on a small bench outside his dwelling and smiled at me when I looked him in the eye and nodded acknowledgement to him.
I didn’t feel at all superior to them and I can’t say I felt sorry for them. They didn’t appear to be unhappy, just living a different life from me.
I don’t know if they would understand me on this or think I was silly. It just would’ve felt disrespectful to me to gawk and take pictures of them as if they were tourist attractions instead of human beings.
Try to imagine what you might feel like if a couple of odd looking fellows showed up walking around your yard snapping pictures of you while you mowed the lawn or weeded your black-eyed susans.
You might ask them what the hell they were doing or you might just run inside looking to call the police. In some places I've lived anything from two-by-fours to shotguns might be brandished. ( That is after all, one of the American ways, if you don't understand it, fall back to threats and acts of violence, damn civilized bastards that we are.)
I’ve not taken more than a few pictures on these travels for that very reason. Perhaps you may find my reasoning flawed but it suits me so I don’t mind what you think.
We walked to the end of the dock town and back to the rickshaw. The driver took us back to the hotel.
(I hope telling the end of this little jaunt more briefly than it actually happened won’t make you feel cheated. I can feel another one of those “pretzel boy” spells coming on and I want to get this published before people are finding free time to surf this silly blog around lunch on Monday back in the States. I imagine I may go back and flesh out the end some more. A little motivation for you to review this some time when you're really bored and have already looked at all your favorite porn sites.)
We picked up our gear and checked out. We took a taxi back to the Consulate, picked up our papers, made our way back to the airport and jetted back to Bangkok. Mal picked us up and drove us back home with his 30-something girlfriend along for company.
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