Monday, 17th June, 2024
A sliver of pre-dawn light peeked through the curtains, the clock a harsh reminder of 6:30 am. Hari Raya Haji, a public holiday in Malaysia, but sleep apparently hadn't received the memo. The "entourage" slumbered on, victims of last night's culinary adventures. This, however, was a prime opportunity – a chance to observe life before the tourist hordes descended.
A quick selfie in front of The Prestige, a narcissistic indulgence perhaps, but a ritual nonetheless. The streets were stirring, shops begrudgingly opening their shutters. Observing, truly observing, is a skill most lack. They see, but they don't truly see. A constant refrain on my YouTube channel, a reminder to myself as much as anyone.
Joggers pounded the pavement, a rhythmic counterpoint to the city's awakening. A lone man sat at a stall, his breakfast untouched, eyes fixed on some unseen horizon. Sleeplessness, perhaps? Or deeper troubles? The curse of a trained eye – the constant game of deciphering the stories etched on faces, a remnant of my "Critical Behaviour Interviews" days.
Veloo Villas beckoned, the promise of Roti Jala, a delightful web of crispy delight. Alas, fate had other plans. Dosai it would be, accompanied by a trio of curries – the familiar comfort of dahl, the comforting warmth of chicken, and the unknown adventure of fish. A mental breakdown, a travel writer's tic:
Dahl – the earthy lentil base, a symphony of mildness, the occasional burst of sweetness a welcome surprise. Chicken – the ever-reliable warrior, a dance of spice and savoriness, the richness of coconut milk adding a touch of creamy indulgence. Fish – the enigma, a potential tango of tang and spice, the flaky promise waiting to be explored.
Back to the hotel, a leisurely stroll punctuated by observations. Pigeons cooed, oblivious to the fluttering flags – the Malaysian colors a vibrant contrast to the serene blue of Penang. Street art, these unexpected installations, defied categorization, a testament to the city's unyielding creative spirit.
Penang's flag: a story in three colors. Light blue, the sea's endless embrace, a whisper of the island's isolation. White, a stark plea for peace, races live in harmony. Yellow, a burst of sunshine, a beacon of opportunity, perhaps a touch of boosterism. But the areca-nut palm, the pokok pinang, that's more than a symbol. It's Penang's name, its heritage, a reminder etched in green on fabric. This flag's not just cloth, it's a poem, a whisper of the island's soul waiting to be unraveled.
The day was already shaping up to be a delightful assault on the senses. First, the quiet hum of pre-dawn Penang, then the culinary adventure, and now, the visual feast offered by the streets. Back to the room, a quick update on the ever-hungry maw of the internet, then perhaps a nudge towards the "entourage." Today, Penang promised more discoveries, more stories waiting to be unearthed.
#wheeteck #wheetecktravelogue #penangoncemore
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