My first afternoon in Penang.

My passport doesn’t scan. But I’m not the only one.

A group of Chinese women are having the same problem.

We’re the only ones at immigration, trying to use the automatic scanners while two immigration officials sit at their counters ready to address what I assume are more complicated cases.

A man comes over and asks me if I’ve filled out the online forms. I have. The women keep trying. Finally one gets her passport to work. You have to hold it there longer she tells her friends in Chinese. It doesn’t work.

The man takes me over to a counter where a woman starts to process me. Then another man appears and walks over to the scanners. He’s the technician. He taps the logo a number of times to access the diagnostic screen and resets the scanner. The women one by one manage to make it through.

I’m led back to the scanners where the technician tries my passport, resets the machine, tries again, runs it with the diagnostics open so he can see what’s going on. Nothing works. Finally I’m led back to a counter where an officer stamps my passport. Welcome to Malaysia.

I’ve arrived on a flight from Bandar Seri Begawan, laying over in Kuala Lumpur en route to Penang. My bags have been checked to my final destination and I’ve been told that all I have to do is pick up my domestic boarding pass from a transit desk and then proceed through immigration. The former task went smoothly; the second task is taking a little longer.

In Bandar Seri Begawan I chatted briefly with the Royal Brunei ticketing agent. She asked if I had gone to the night market. I had. And had I eaten nasi katok? I had. That’s the most important, she said. She lives some 45 minutes away from Gadong night market, but will do the drive with her kids just to eat at that stall. We both know the one she means.

In Kuala Lumpur I’m surprised to find they have a waterfall of their own. It’s smaller than the one in Singapore, but at least here the water flows.

The flight to Penang is short, and we still manage to arrive early. The flight attendants begin their beverage service while the plane is still climbing, locking the wheels of the cart and bracing themselves against it to keep it from sliding back as they scale the aisles with peanuts and bottles of water.

I pick up my bags in Penang and walk to the e-hailing area in the car park across from the terminal. Tan picks me up and switches to Chinese. He’s from Fujian, the fourth generation to be born here. I ask if he’s visited the mainland. Not for a while. He has family there but they’re so far removed and he’s never met a lot of them.

There’s some traffic leaving the airport and Tan tells me it’s usually the case around this time. We pass some construction on the left and he tells me they’ve just broken ground this year on a public transport system that will run between the airport and the center of town. It’ll take eight years to complete, but will hopefully alleviate a lot of the traffic congestion in the city. Penang will the second city in Malaysia after Kuala Lumpur to have one. He says this with some measure of pride and I consider coming back in eight years to see how things have changed.

Tan drops me at the front door of a Courtyard Mariott and at first I wander into the lobby, wondering if the apartment is a serviced one attached to the hotel. It turns out the hotel and apartment share the building, but with different entrances; the hotel occupies a few middle floors of the building, sandwiched between residents.

I find the correct mailbox and unlock it with the code provided, extracting the keys, and take the elevator to the 28th floor. The studio apartment is cute, with one wall made up entirely of windows with views out over the water to the mainland. It’s perfect for one person.

I take a moment to settle in and plot the rest of my afternoon. Looking at the map it looks like the more touristy, World Heritage historical center of Georgetown is further east of where I’m staying, a 40-minute-or-so walk away. Looking at my map of places to eat I see that there’s a vegetarian restaurant in the historic area I had flagged and decide to mark that as a potential place to have dinner.

I slather sunscreen onto my arms and face, shoulder my backpack, and set off into the warm afternoon, turning left onto Jalan Macalister headed east.

I continue on the broad avenue until something catches my eye to the north and I turn to walk past a bus station to a narrower street lined with small restaurants and food carts. One boasts a Michelin plaque and I debate standing in line to sample its noodle soup, but think the better of it. I’d rather spend my time walking and exploring a bit more of the area before the sun sets.

Reaching the edge of the UNESCO World Heritage area of Georgetown I stop into a shop to buy post cards. I ask if they have stamps and a woman in the back tells me I can bring them back after I’ve written them; they’ll help me post them. She asks me where I’m from and I answer in Chinese after hearing them speak Mandarin amongst themselves. She’s impressed, but I demur. My Chinese is not that good, my vocabulary rudimentary, but she’s excited I can speak it at all.

A small square is decorated in prepartion for the lunar new year. A statue is covered with a red cloth and tourists lift the edges to catch a glimpse of what’s hidden underneath.

I continue walking down Armenian Street; it’s filled with tourists and shops catering to tourists. Rickshaws pedal past and the odd car and motorcycle make their way slowly down the narrow lane; tourists move to the shoulders to make way before converging back on the street after they pass.

I am in search of the street art depicted on the postcards I’ve purchased. I hadn’t known the city was known for its street art, but knowing it instantly endears this Georgetown to me.

The crowds stopped before it and the people posing in front of a wall clue me in that one of the pieces is not far off. The piece is charming, depicting two children on a bike far too big for them, and whets my appetite for more.

I turn north to walk up Beach Street, passing the Cheah Kongsi Temple and another narrow street with a number of pieces adorning one wall. Again, the crowds clue me in as people wait their turn to pose against a piece depicting a boy on a motorcycle as if passengers along for the ride.

As I continue north towards the water, the blocks get less touristy and come to feel more lived-in for lack of a better description. The crowds lessen as well and the architecture shifts.

The finncial heart of Georgtown used to belong to the northern stretch of Beach Street, and the historic banks and commercial buildings boast Neoclassical, Victorian, and Edwardian styles. It’s an interesting contrast to the jumbled buildings further south, and a contrast to the Chinese temples and mansions just a few blocks away.

Checking the map I see that I’m close to Auntie Gaik Lean's Old School Eatery, another restaurant I had earmarked on my map of places to eat. There’s a few groups waiting outside but I decide to try my luck and ask how long the wait is for one person. About an hour, the hostess tells me. I’ll wait.

In the end, I don’t have to wait quite as long. A large party leaves and one group seems to be a no-show. I’m asked if I’m ok sharing a table. Of course.

I listen as the group next to me quizzes the waiter on the dishes and order quickly when he comes around to me, Curry Tumis, a fish soup; the Nyonya fried rice; and Terung Sambal, aubergines in a sweet chili tangy sauce. The waiter tells me that it’ll be plenty; I tell him my plan is already to take the leftovers home.

I’m tempted to add a chicken curry as well but know that I’d not be able to eat more than one or two bites if I have any hope of finishing at least the fish soup, imaginging it’d travel least well.

The food is fantastic, and I’m very happy to have had it as my first meal. It definitely raises the bar for the rest of the time I’ll be in Penang, but I’m ok starting on such a high.

I take a Grab back to the apartment. Night has fallen, but it’s not quite completely dark, and I gaze out the windows of my apartment at the ships anchored in the strait, the lights of the buildings both near on the island, and far on the mainland. 🇲🇾