Is this Malaysia or China?

Well, it is Chinatown in Georgetown. As I got out of the Express train into the blistering peninsular heat of Butterworth, I almost ran for the ticket booth to return immediately to good old Bangkok. This was nothing like Cambodia, Laos or Thailand. This was really south! I didn't feel like traveling in South-East Asia, I felt out of place. I felt confused. I knew it was going to be different, and yet it still struck me this was a new place, a new set of rules. A new pace as well. Although the Taxi drivers where still trying to charge ridiculous prices, they did so in a very lazy and amical way. Which didn't stop me from walking to the ferry going to Penang Island. On my way I picked up a copy of the New Straits Times, the more serious looking of the English newspapers.Dengue fever, Coxsackie, good old diarrhea... This were some of the mentioned after-effects of the tidal wave that struck Malaysia's West Coast. And Penang was no exception to the rule. I embarked on the bright green ferryboat and expected to land on a ravaged wasteland of bricks and rusted deformed steel, only to be amazed by the vast modern skyline of a 20th century city. No visual damage here, it seemed the evil effects of the flood rested in the polluted groundwater. Georgetown unraveled slowly before my eyes as the ferry cruised towards the docking area. And since the taxi drivers were no more reasonable as on the mainland, I decided to explore town on foot, saving myself 2 euros for what seemed to be a 600 meter walk. That was of course not taking in account the tropical heat, and looking at all the blathered and fainted paint on buildings I wasn't the only one suffering here...
Soon as I had to leave the shade of the ferry-arcade, I started dripping from every pore that wasn't covered by more than one layer of cloth. (All the other pores were simply pouring gallons of salty water out of my body.) I felt like a huge dripping candle to be found in presumably romantic shagging-decors,the difference being I was dripping and melting in a not so romantic fashion. Packed to the teeth with my iron suitcase filled with papers and video-equipment, a backpack filled with dirty laundry, another bag on my belly containing my guidebook and other useless cooling-aids, and of course my little shoulderbag with my Minolta and it's accompanying set of lenses. That should teach me to come prepared! But if it was because of the delirious sunrays beating on my skull or because of the many Bollywood-hits coming from colorful Indian shops, I was sweatily smiling as I felt the old tingle of walking into a new world. Houses painted in every available happy color, mostly faded and blathering off the walls, trying to get out of the heat. Indians walking around with little umbrellas to keep them from getting a tan beyond their already chocolate-colored skins, Chinese fellows smoking funny looking cigarettes (not funny in a way that we have them in Belgium, because possession around here can get you a death penalty, which up until now didn't attract many comedians testing it out.) from the shade of their one-room shops. Streets that were more like alleys, internet acces that is fast and cheap, just like back home... Which makes me want to consider to change this title into "Is this Malaysia or The Lowlands..." Because ever since I sat down in this internetshop I've been disturbed by sounds from far far away. The whizzkid running this place is compiling a playlist on his laptop consisting of songs like "How strong is the solitary cyclist", and "A little bit in love..." Translate into mellow Dutch and you get the point. Probably some kind of campy Malaysian thing, like we have this wacko Indy-songs that don't make sense but a lot of fun. And just now a pitch-black Indian looking guy (forgot to bring his umbrella?) picked up his phone after it played "They shall not tame him, this fierce, and Flemish Lion" (do I have to mention the translation-gig here?) in polyhonic orchestra-version. Maybe he used to have a nightshop or international phonebooth or both in the Van Maerlantstraat or something. But all in all looking around I would say this is a different place altogether. Asia but not Asia. At least not how I used to picture it. But they still smile a lot and have those delicious smelling dishes around every corner.
Which reminds me to get me some dinner.

Again.