Going to Penang

Part I:  Breakfast in Chinatown

With a long bus ride to Penang ahead, and the first decent night’s sleep in a long time behind me, I left the soft covers of my hostel bed to buy “bus snacks” at the 7-11.  After noticing that I was near the part of Chinatown where I last bought the steamed dumplings that I call “soft pillows of heaven”, I decided that breakfast was in order.  But upon rounding the corner, I found that the dumpling stand wasn’t open at this hour of the morning.  Cue Momentary Frowny face.

If you know me, then you know that I hate doubling back.  Whenever I hike or walk or run or bike, I find that turning back the way you came feels like undoing all the work that you just did.  So I chose to circle around in a way that was new to me but sort of lead in the right direction. 

Next thing I know, I am in the market.  The real market; passing tables that hold the entire half of a pig.  Walking cautiously to avoid hooves and mystery puddles of liquid on the ground, I began to make my way around still in search of breakfast.  My thoughts breakdown into two thought patterns in moments like this:  First,  I am the only white person here.  Second, oh that icky smell…and something about the movie “Contagion” thanks to Kai and our Peru experience.

I find myself turning out of that market and being called over to some plastic tables by an older Chinese woman who wants me to eat some traditional porridge for breakfast.  It seems harmless enough so she prepares the “8 hidden treasures” rice porridge.  I find when it comes to me that it is not entirely unlike the mush that Neo eats in the real world on the Matrix.  Inside my snotty looking substance in the bowl is found 8 different things.  Chicken, Pork, Red-bean, “Crispy Pork Inners”, Century Egg, Green Onion, and Lord knows what the other two were.  Century Egg concerned me the most (I have had enough animal intestine at this point that I don’t care when something is labeled “inners”).  What concerns me the most is that I am pretty sure that it is just a fancy name for a rotten egg.  I don’t truly think the thing is 100 years old, but I think that eggs shouldn’t be that color…and surely not that flavor.  After two bites of egg, I decided to push it to the side and just around it.  The porridge, as texturally unpleasing as it was, warmed my belly.

Part II: The Angry Driver

All Packed and Ready for Another Bus

Then I was off to the hostel to pack and catch the bus.  Let me tell you a little about this bus.  I am actually typing on it right now.  I was sitting behind a “young hoodlum” as my nana would say.  Sunglasses on, hat to the side, no observation of the world around him…you know the type, they live around the world.  The bus was late, and once we got on it, it continued to be late as we sat waiting for our driver to sort out all the things that seemed to be upsetting him.  At the moment that I was drifting off, it was something about tickets.

I was almost to sleep land and the seat in front of me smacks my knees.  This kid just reclined as far as he could to make himself at home.  I re-adjust and think that that is that.  Drifting slowly as the bus begins to move and to my surprise, the seat he is in can go further back.  Ouch, and no!  He has now pinned the neck of my Uke to the arm rest.  I wiggle it out and toss it into the overhead storage.  I don’t think pleasant thoughts of the young man, because really, it’s a five hour ride, you don’t need to be horizontal.

Slowly drifting again…and I awake to shouting.  The driver has been informed that the young man in front of me is eating.  And since he doesn’t seem to want to put it away, the driver continuing his rant pulls the bus over and storms down the aisle.  The boy quickly hides the goods and promises not to touch them. (At least that is my take on the situation…it was all in Malay and Chinese).  The driver paces the aisle a couple more times lecturing the bus and occasionally throwing in the English, “No Eating, No Drinking.”  I think about the chocolate filled doughnut I bought on impulse at the station and how it sits in my purse begging me to eat it.

Two hours of fitful sleep with my restricted leg room and my negative thoughts and we pull up to a rest stop.  The driver yells, “Four Minutes” and that is all.  So I run off to the bathroom, use it, and then run out so that I can have time with my doughnut.  I want to enjoy every chocolatey bite.  Two bites in and I see them unloading the bus. O.o

I walk over and the chocolate starts to go everywhere.  Apparently they are switching buses and just decided not to tell us.  As I try to down the pastry just to ride myself of the mess (meanwhile kicking myself because this is not how I wanted such a lovely doughnut to go) a teammate hops off the bus with my bag.  BUT ALAS, the Uke is still above the seat thanks to the hoodlum.  She runs on again since my mess of a melty chocolate nightmare is in no state to get it.  She’s a gem.

Upon loading the second bus they found that they couldn’t Tetris the under-bus storage like before and now two of our 60-80 liter packs are riding in seats.  The driver asked before we pulled out, “This bus is going directly to Penang.  Any bad words? OKAY!”  Whatever that means…But now I have leg room (and lap room!) so I am pleased.  And I got to type this blog up since the elderly man I am currently sitting behind has no need to crush the Americans so that he can feel like he is in a bus bed.  So yay!