During my trip to Penang, I was struck by the numerous old, gorgeous Chinese houses that had been left to rot. I took way too many photos of them as I walked around, so here are some of the highlights. I was a little disappointed that the houses don’t look nearly as spooky on camera as they do in real life:
Taken outside a Chinese liquor shop in Chinatown, Penang, Malaysia.
For some reason I didn’t bring the USB link to my camera, so you’ll have to wait until Friday or so before I can show you this place. From what I’ve seen, Penang is much more laid back than, say, the tourist destinations in Thailand. The island is somewhat big and tourism is not the only industry. I’m staying in the Chinatown neighborhood of George Town, the largest city. Being the diverse mix of ethnic Malays, Chinese, and ethnic Indians, that Malaysia is, the streets are a mix of Chinese street signs, Indian curry shops, colonial buildings (the settlement was started on this previously uninhabited island by the British East India Company in the 18th century), and various religious buildings of various faiths.
Today is a national holiday marking the end of Ramadan. I woke up to the sound of the Muslim call to prayer and went to eat breakfast at the Blue Diamond, a hotel for Western tourists that features Mexican food, Metallica on the stereo (the new shitty Metallica), and some old dude banging on the drums randomly. While the tacos I had last night were kind of crappy (poor quality beef, not enough cheese, needless over-spicing), the breakfast service was pretty good. Fresh orange juice, eggs, sausage, beans, toast, and what was probably the best cereal I’ve ever had – oats and nuts topped with mixed fruits and unsweetened yogurt, kind of a tropical proto-cereal – yum!
Unlike Thailand, almost every one of the locals seems to speak passable English, though their manners could use some work. People barely look at you when serving, except for some of the Indians. To my surprise the most prominently-sold newspaper was the English-language, tabloid format Straits Times, but it wasn’t all that useful to me as it focuses almost exclusively on domestic affairs – the international section consisted of two articles from the New York Times and 3 pages of AP clippings.
I’m here to renew a tourist visa as I continue my job hunt – what should have been a one or two night trip turned into a 4 night excursion since I made the blunder of booking a flight on a major holiday when the consular offices are closed. Before coming I was worried about the validity of my passport since the week before I accidentally put it through the laundry. But those fears seem to have been unfounded since, well, here I am.
That passport is now in the hands of a man named Mohammed at NJ Book Centre, leaving me in a state of limbo until I get my renewed visa and can head home on Friday. Until then, I plan to read Bob Woodward’s State of Denial, visit some of the historical sites, and take a lot of pictures. Stay tuned!
As part of the week-long birthday festivities for Mrs. Adamu, on Friday we had the chance to visit Charley Brown’s Tex-Mex Cantina, one of the few places in Thailand that can claim to serve anything close to Mexican food. I ignored Cosmic Buddha’s reservations about the place and decided to go anyway. Some thoughts:
Recommendation: unless you have no problem with sex tourism and are sure that you’ll never ever visit a part of the world with good Mexican food again, stay away from Charley Brown’s.
Root beer is not popular in Japan, which makes things tough for me as both Japan watcher and root beer lover. During my stays in the country, the high prices at the import stores – formerly the only place that sells the stuff before the rise of discount stores – forced me to regard my beloved root beer as a rare treat to be enjoyed alone or in the company of other foreigners.
Attempts have been made to add the drink to the usual lineup of carbonated drink products, but the Japanese consumers are apparently having none of it. Why?
Japanese friends have told me it tastes like medicine. Wikipedia tells me that the specific reason root beer fails to gain popularity outside Okinawa (a legacy of extended US occupation) and US military bases (see previous paretheses) is because drinking it makes you smell like you’re wearing a compress. I have always found the comparison somewhat insulting. I mean, root beer used to be a folk medicine – it’s supposed to taste that way!
Thankfully, the Thais have absolutely no problem with stinky food (take dorians – please!). It was with great pleasure that I have found root beer to be plentiful here. Not only can one find A&W cans on the shelves of the ubiquitous 7-11s, right next to Coke and some unsettlingly hypersweet Lipton Iced Tea, but the A&W fast food chain is alive and well throughout Bangkok. You might be unfamiliar with A&W restaurants as they have a limited presence in many US states, but they but are, rest assured, a nationwide chain (and big in Canada!). They serve a lot of fried food and are known for having good curly fries (true) and chili dogs (not as true). Here I am hugging a statue of their beloved mascot the Great Root Bear (who knew they had a mascot?!) before enjoying their signature root beer in a frosty mug:
Unlike the A&W cans, which for some reason taste almost like Dr. Pepper (blech), the root beer at the restaurant is authentic and delicious. We also had curly fries, which were good as ever, and some fried chicken that was OK but doesn’t hold a candle to some of the awesome fried chicken you get at street vendors around Bangkok. One interesting feature of the menu is that waffles a la mode are offered along with the rest of the value meals, served with curly fries and apparently intended to be eaten as a full-fledged meal. Sounds good to me!
After crossing to Hakodate, Curzon and I set out on our second day to find some history. After all, Hakodate was one of the first ports opened to American trade under the Treaty of Kanagawa, and has long been associated with foreigners of the Victorian variety.
Of course, they are all dead, but they still get some of the nicest property in town.
This is one of the “foreigner cemeteries” located at the south end of Hakodate, about a kilometer from the nearest tram stop. This area was set aside during the city’s treaty port days as a resting place for all the gaijin wandering around town at the time.
There are several separate plots in this area, each administered by one of the local churches. What you see above is the Protestant cemetery. Orthodox Christians are buried farther up the hill.
That pillar on the right says “Hakodate Church of Harisutosu” — Harisutosu being the Japanese transliteration of the Greek word Χριστός (Christós) or “Christ.”
And the Chinese are right next door, on a plot maintained by the local Chinese temple, carefully walled off to keep nosy foreigners from taking pictures.
While I like the idea of having my final resting place on a hill overlooking the whole city, I think it would be much cooler to actually live there. Unfortunately, looks like the corpses get to have all the fun this time.
After our trip to Osorezan, Curzon and I wandered across the Shimokita Peninsula to the port of Oma, then boarded a ferry to cross the Tsugaru Strait to Hokkaido.
One of Hakodate’s most well-known features is Mount Hakodate, which rises over the south end of the city and is said to have one of the most amazing nighttime views in the world, on par with the mountain in Hong Kong.
There was a problem, though. As Hakodate came into sight, we noticed that the mountain was wearing a nice little toupee of clouds:
After dinner that evening (crabs! squids!), we decided to get on the cable car and head up the mountain. We got an incredible view of the city for about 30 seconds before it all turned into gray muck: the top of the mountain offered no view at all, just fog illuminated by floodlights.
On the other hand, I must say that Hakodate’s cable cars are an awesome mode of transportation: now I want to build a line between the Mori Tower and the Izumi Garden in Tokyo. I’m sure Curzon will volunteer a photo (as I forgot my camera for the trip up the mountain).
Osorezan! “The Mountain of Fear.” Ain’t it quaint. It was the first stop on my recent tour of northern Japan with Curzon (who’s still wandering around the back roads of Hokkaido).
Although some misguided websites call it a mountain, it’s actually a temple in a valley surrounded by mountains. The temple is surrounded by rocky terrain lying atop a very sulfuric hot spring, which releases smelly gas from vents in the ground.
When pre-modern types saw this, they assumed that they were seeing spirits escaping the underworld. So legend has it that this is a natural gateway to Hell, and many pilgrims come to leave little offerings for the dead. One common sight around the hot springs is little stone statues dressed in children’s clothes–memorials to dead young’uns.
Anyway, if this is what going to Hell looks like, maybe I need to maintain my life of evil…
I’m back from my trip with Lord Curzon and will be posting some pictures in the coming days. This tidbit, however, just couldn’t wait:
On Wednesday, rather than take a bus around the peninsula to catch our ferry to Hakodate, we decided to hitchhike straight through the mountains. This turned out to be pretty strenuous, as nobody was going all the way to our destination, so we had to thumb five rides and do a lot of walking in between.
The last car to pick us up was an aging four-door occupied by three thuggish-looking guys with buzz cuts. As we zoomed up the coast, headed for the very northern tip of Honshu, the driver opened up the conversation something like this:
DRIVER: Where you guys from?
CURZON: America.
DRIVER: Ha ha! Oh! You heard about Koizumi going to Yasukuni?
CURZON: (knowing smile) Oh, yes.
DRIVER: (more nervously) Heh heh… (awkward silence)
After they dropped us off at the ferry terminal, I remarked to Curzon: “It’s a pity we don’t know how to say ‘fuck yeah!’ in Japanese.”
Lord Curzon and I are going on a little trip next week. His ultimate plan is to trek around the north side of Hokkaido by bicycle. Unfortunately, being all about the benjamins, I don’t have an extra two weeks to spare for that part. Instead, I’ll be accompanying Curzon on the first leg of our trip, from Tokyo through the northern tip of Honshu and into Hokkaido.
Our itinerary will find us visiting Aomori (population 300,000), Mutsu (population 50,000), Osorezan (a volcano traditionally believed to be an entrance to Hell), the miniscule port of Oma (population 6,000), and finally Hakodate (population 300,000–thank God, I was starting to feel lonely). From Hakodate, Curzon will continue on up through Hokkaido while I head back to Tokyo by train, seeing half of Japan in the process.
