Gulai lemak nangka, eaten with hot white Thai fragrant rice, with sambal belacan cili padi and ayam kampung goreng garam kunyit, panas-panas straight from the kuali. Add some kerabu taugeh with babat and sliced green cili padi. Eat using the right hand, wash it down with sirap rose with lots of ice.
Kampung weddings are awesome. And so I discovered here.
Today is my last lesson for the little dwarf I have been homeschooling for the last six months. I have completed the syllabus and his mother thinks he will need a break for December before joining the main stream Sekolah Kebangsaan come January. Which came timely as I do need to give myself a break in December to stock take on things on the home and personal front.
It has been quite an amazing 6 months with him. When I first taught him, he was bed ridden from the spinal operation, in which the surgeon suspected that he would stay bedridden probably for life. Hence in my initial lessons with him, he was wearing braces and had to have the maid on standby to carry him around to the toilet or for his breaks. Sometimes I taught him with him lying down.
With his staple reading materials being the ‘Ujang‘ comics, he is forever ‘ loyar buruk’, usually coming out with snide remarks I didn’t think a bedridden 9 year old could come out with. He always gleefully said to me, ‘ I may be born a dwarf but I am handsome, you know? ‘ … ye lah tu.. I would say. And I remembered he wanted to walk again so much that one day while he was still bedridden, he told me ‘ Give me 6 months teacher and I will walk again. You just see ah!!’ Two months later, he was already waddling all around the house.
Lessons with him threw me into a cocktail of emotions. Sometimes laughing my head off with his silly antics, sometimes feeling I wanted to throw him up the roof with his lackadaisical attitude, sometimes feeling warm and fuzzy inside with his sweetness, sometimes giggling to myself listening him talk to himself while doing work, sometimes feeling.. why did I agree to teach him again?
But it has been good. He is good to go to Sekolah Kebangsaan next year. I will miss his antics, I will miss him trying to ‘kelentong’ me all the time, I will miss his questions, I will miss him showing me that one may be physically deformed, but life can go on and nicely too!
While issues on the fatwah on Yoga, Michael Jackson’s conversion to Islam and the never ending ongoing drama in the local politics became the talk of the town, I indulged in something quieter in the form of the European Union Film Festival. It happens every year here and last year’s was also around this period of time. But we were moving house at this time last year so we caught only one film. This year, I caught 3.
The first one I went to was One Day In Europe, a hilarious comedy film circa the Champions League Finals held in Moscow, and how the different Europeans cope with their differences in their languages, and where English can’t get one anywhere amongst the villagers and townsmen, let alone bargaining a police report in the different police stations from Moscow to Istanbul to Berlin and finally to Spain.
The film was in Russian, Turkish, German and Spanish and a little bit of English by a disgruntled Londoner. It’s hilarious to see that assumptions and stereotypes are universal attributes that everyone has about the other ‘different’ racial groups. One scene when the German lad wanted to get his point across that his backpack was stolen to the Turkish policeman, after a whole hour of ‘ayam-itik’ frustrating exchange, the policeman shouted, in Turkish ‘ I ONLY Know some German!!! Ja ! Ja ! Kaputt ! Kaputt ! Hitler ! Hitler !’ we had a good laugh about it. In the end, the film showed that against all odds and all cultural and language barrier, Europeans have at least one thing in common i.e Football. And their common language is Goal!
One day in Europe pic taken from here.
The next one is a really a beautiful film, Mozart In China in German and Mandarin. It tells the story about the friendship about 2 boys, a Chinese and an Austrian made in the hospital where they were warded in Salzburg. The Chinese boy, Li Wei whose family hailed from Hainan island in China invited Danny, the Austrian boy to spend summer holidays in his grandfather’s village in Hainan. Danny reluctantly accepted and although he was very wary of all the stereotypes and assumptions that people have of him as a white foreigner, he discovered himself and the beauty of knowing what is beyond one’s shores. In one scene, when they first arrived, Li Wei’s gang of village boys went to smell Danny’s armpit, just to see whether the stereotype of all white people stink true. Danny was furious and confronted Li Wei about it and Li Wei shot back with a ‘so you think it was easy for me in Salzburg with people calling me slant eyes’ talk.
Image of Mozart in China taken from here.
The film was also interesting for me because while the German dialogue has subtitles, the Mandarin dialogue didn’t. Hence I surprised myself at how much Mandarin I can still understand, although I have been away from that environment for some years already. And I tried not to read the subtitles to the German dialogue, to see if I have improved in that language. Not doing good, I must add. Oh well, like they say in Chinese, man man lai.. or pelan pelan kayuh…
The last film, was set in Luxemborg is about a handsome young train controller Georges, meeting Yamina in the train from Luxembourg City to Bettembourg. She is Algerian-French she was just like any other passenger whose ticket needed to be inspected. The next day, she’s on board again, but this time on the run from mysterious assailants. Yamina refuses to go to the police, so Georges kindly offers her a hiding place in his holiday cabin. As she shares her story, his compassion grows into fascination, friendship and maybe even love.
Arabian Nights pic taken from here.
This week is the Kuala Lumpur International Film Festival. I have missed a large part of it although it only began on Monday if I’m not mistaken. Down with the (annual) year end flu and have been just rotting at home on the couch with Grey’s Anatomy and Gilmore Girls and a box of tissue paper.
I was on auto mode. Got up with the mind programmed to make breakfast. It was meant to be egg+cheese+beef burger for the husband and muesli bars for dieting me. Placed the pan on the induction cooker, put some oil on it, turned the induction cooker on. Then it’s Tito’s time to poo and I didn’t want him to do it in the house–again, so I chased him out. By the time I walked back to the kitchen, I saw flame about 40 cm high from the pan.
I actually went.. Errr ( ? ). I actually heard myself said that. For a full 30 seconds or so, I just watched the fire. I think I froze. Then I felt my tongue able to move again. So I hesitantly screamed out. Fire! Fire!……………. God knows why I did that, when I could have quickly poured a basin of water on it or something.
The husband heard, came running to the kitchen. Turned off the cooker, yanked the pan straight into the sink and turned the tap on and off the flame went. I could have done that, right? But I didn’t. I froze instead.
When things are tucked at some remote corners for a long, long time, the perspective that I carry of that thing, whatever it is, is that it is unused or not needed. Because if one needs it, one will use it . Because the fact that it is sitting remotely unseen, untouched, unused, unutilised means that the thing is not serving its purpose. That thing can be anything. An old envelope, an old tool, files, old garment. Like I said, anything. And anything or something which is not of use to us, may be of use to someone else or the win-win duo of us and the karang-guni man can both benefit from it. That is how I view it.
On the contrary, on the other side of the river, there is another tribe of people who view it differently. They are called hoarders. They want to keep everything for ‘later’ or it may be used ‘one day’ or ‘sayang nak buang’. And they keep everything they could and on their side of the river, there are many mountains. The mountains are called ‘Clutters of Junk’.
The husband and I are on different sides of the rivers. And that, sometimes warrants for the fiercest tribal wars. That, and DH Lawrence. On my camp, I think Lawrence is a cuckoo. Husband, on the other hand is fascinated by him. But the war on Lawrence is not as fierce as war on hoarding things. Because Lawrence, weird as he is to me, was quite a good read during my days as a psych student. And Lawrence, the jolly good fellow with sexuality issues, does not clutter our house with his ‘keep for later’ ‘treasures’.
So Michael Jackson is now Mikhaeel and two makciks are fighting for the Wanita Umno no. 1 post. One with the signature ‘tudung jambul’ and the other with the equally signature ‘Cikgu Bedah’ look. All three of them, in some weird sense, I find intriguing. Especially the first one.
This eventful year is coming to an end. There are many things that I am supposed to be doing, but they are still undone. And I am a big procrastinator. I spent the week binging on Grey’s Anatomy complete seasons dvds. Bought pirated of course, for Rm 4 at the Batu Feringghi night market. Ooops, did I just say that? Bad girl I am. Do not follow my bad, bad, bad example of buying pirated dvds.
Legs are meant for walking. And so we maximize them to the fullest. When we travel, we prefer to walk. And walk. And walk. And really walk. We see more that way. And capture/experience/assimilate/bask in more with the surroundings. In this trip, we just wanted to walk yet again. And we did….
If in Melaka I like to walk along the Jonker Street and the areas 1km around it, in Penang, I love to walk around the Penang Road/Chulia street area. They are like my time machines transporting me back into the yesteryears. Like I’ve mentioned before, I think I was born in the wrong era. I find antiques and all things retro very fascinating and on these streets, be it in Jonker in Melaka or Ipoh old town in Perak or right here in Penang, somehow they made me feel as though they were trapped in time. Just the way I like it.
One of the gems we looked for and found were antique books from old 2nd hand bookshops. The shops which have existed probably before my parents were even born. There were a few shops but what I found interesting about this particular one below is that it also sells old fiction books in all foreign languages, from Finnish to Japanese to Spanish to Dutch etc !… I chatted the old uncle up and he told us that he either exchanged books with any travellers who came to Penang or buy from them. Over the years, he had collected more than enough to sell it to scavengers like us.
In another such old bookstore tucked away in some remote corner, we found some rare gems in the form of old Malay story books with the old spelling… you know the one which was still in the era where they spelt like this ‘ Burong gagak itu terbang naek ke atas pokok untuk mencarik ayer’, some of these old buku-buku cerita Melayu were so old they dated back to 1920s or even earlier! The uncle sold them to us for about Rm 3 each and we ‘borong-ed’ the lot, except this particular one which came with a warning.. heh 😛
We wanted to find Jawi books too but to no avail. So we walked on to Masjid Kapitan Keling. The famous Nasi Kandaq Beratur had not started yet. But I managed to get a shot of the husband’s favourite mosque on the island, Masjid Kapitan Keling. The almost maghrib moment outside the newly renovated Masjid Kapitan Keling…
After the nice morning bus ride from Bukit Mertajam to Butterworth, we arrived at the Ferry Terminal, joining throngs of other Penangite from mainland who travel to the island for work. Feeling like Penangites ourselves. After paying Rm 1.20 each for our ferry ticket, we joined the queue to board the ferry, along with the ‘kakak-kakak opis‘ in floral baju kurung pesak and tudung bawal and sling handbags, ready to begin their working day on the island. Them taking a ferry to work and a ferry back home every single day is quite a wonder to me, although it is just another day for them.
Once on the ferry, the husband busied himself reading Berita Harian…
While I busied myself with the view of the island from sea. I must have seen this view gazillion times in each Penang trip I made, but each time I would always try to take the same shot from the same angle. I am nostalgic like that.
Upon arrival on the island, we stopped by to get some kuih from a stall which every one of the ‘kakak-kakak opis’ seemed to go to.
I paid Rm 2.80 for this plate of 6 kuihs. Another alahai moment… And I now know why the ‘kakak-kakak opis’ bought their kuih from this stall. Delicious.. all of them, really delicious! We parked ourselves at this warung which has a reputation of selling really good teh tarik…
Where I had the 6 for Rm 2.80 kuihs and the husband had this delicious Rm 1 nasi lemak…
After we had our fill, we wanted to check into our hotel by the beach. We refused to take the cabs in Penang, after our last month’s experienced of being ‘ketuk’ with exorbitant prices by Penang cabbies. Our mode of transport on the island this time was mainly…
To which we paid a mere Rm 3 for both of us to get to Batu Feringghi from the bus terminal. These tickets reminded me of the S/BS buses in the 80s where as a child, I used to collect those colourful bus tickets…
‘ Nak pi mana? ‘ The elderly man in blue KTM uniform asked. I looked at my watch and it was 5 am in the morning. My things were strewn on the mattress on the bunk bed of Keretapi Tanah Melayu. The husband was on the top bunk, I guess he was as blur as I was. I heard him telling the Pakcik Tiket KTM that we wanted to go to Butterworth. I told the pakcik the same. ‘ Lahhhh dah lepai dahhh Butterworth ! Hang dah tinggal stesen dah !’
Ok.. Now what? So the pakcik suggested that we drop at the next station, Bukit Mertajam and then make a detour back to Butterworth. I didn’t sleep like a log that I could not hear the announcement that we had arrived in Butterworth. I just didn’t hear it. And of course, the husband was still sleeping when we reached Butterworth. So on that morning, in the wee hours of the day, we landed ourselves in Bukit Mertajam.
We could have easily driven up to Pulau Pinang like we always did. Start the car, go on the straight highway up north for about 5 hours, stopping in between at Perak for toilet break or fresh fruits. Or both. But that, as always would be a boring trip. 5 hours of just the husband driving while I try to keep him awake with conversations and occasionally cut fruits shoved into his mouth while he drove. This time we wanted to see and experience something different, and also re-experience the way I went back to Penang as a child. We decided to take the overnight train to Butterworth on KTM.
So we alighted at Bukit Mertajam. The station was deserted, save for the mamak newspaper stand and a small ‘cafe’ run by a granny. Nothing else otherwise. I have not fully woken up yet, but whipped out the camera nonetheless for some lazy snap shots.
It was not time for subuh yet.. Still in the wee hours of 5.30 am on a Friday morning. So the husband went to look for a surau for subuh while I just wandered around the station, which to me is so retro. I went to the mamak news stand to check out what he was selling. Malaysian newspapers of all titles and political bearings lined his small shop. And I spied with my not so little eyes something remotely familiar that I could almost hear Pak Mat Sentul going.. ‘Deng Dang !!! Biskut bebola coklat !’ Oh when was that advertisement again?
It was around 5.50 am and the moon outside was still a full moon. Beautiful and I tried a few times to get a shot but my hands were not steady and we didn’t have a tripod. After the husband had finished his subuh prayers, we decided to have an extremely early breakfast at 6 am at the ‘cafe’. The nenek sold the usual nasi lemak and its lauk pauk, mee/bee hoon/kuay teow goreng and the lots. The husband got himself a teh tarik and mee goreng with telur ceplok ( or telur mata lembu as they call it here. Beats me why cause it is not remotely near the image of any cow’s eyes, but I digress ) and I got myself a teh tarik and a plate of nasi putih with sambal tumis ikan tenggiri, telur ceplok and some ulam.
The whole breakfast for both of us, 2 teh tarik+a plate of mee goreng+telur ceplok+ a plate of rice+sambal tumis ikan tenggiri+ulam+telur ceplok = Rm 5 ! alahai….
I felt like telling the granny that sekeping ikan tenggiri in KL is Rm 5 or even more !
Then we began our walk to look for the public bus that would take us to Butterworth. We walked through the still asleep pekan of Bukit Mertajam. Through the old shop houses that looked a bit gothic in the morning..
And the meandering ways of the old town
We finally reached the bus station which would take us to Butterworth for Rm 2 per person. Along the way, we got to see what we wanted to see… the bus drove through many Malay Kampungs and of course, through Pematang Pauh, the ‘hot’ constituency in this year’s election.
A quick shot I managed to get on the moving bus. Oh well, when we missed the train stop, we thought it would slow us down. Two backpacks and four legs later, we actually got to see more than what we planned for. Things we would not get to see nor experience had we taken the ‘easy’ way up by just driving.
Prior to all that, the train ride from Sentral KL was uneventful. It left KL Sentral on the dot at 8 pm. And after some Nasi Lemak and ChipsMore at the train cafe, I retired into my bunk and read Reader’s Digest. I spent some time reminiscing those times in my childhood I had taken this same sleepers train to Penang with my parents. And soon enough, too much nostalgia brought me to a deep slumber until around 4 am in the morning when the trained stopped. Unknown to me that was our stop – Butterworth. The station that we missed.
But I felt we were meant to see a bit of Bukit Mertajam and enjoy the sleepiness of it and of course, the dirt cheap meals.
From the corner of this internet kiosk in Batu Feringghi, I caught sight of ‘her‘ again. ‘Her‘ is not a person, not even a ‘noun’ I think. An ‘adjective’ would be more like it. A species, sort of.
There is always a grim, determined look on her face. A semi-annoyed- semi-cynical expression on her face. Her age would be around 20s all the way to early 50s. Her head would be doubly wrapped in tudung bawal + helmets of different colours. Her baju would always be floral, baju kurung pesak. And her footwear would be open toe sandals or flats. And what makes her, ‘her’ is the signature motor kapchai.
And ohhh watch ‘her’ go !!! Peett !!! Peet !!! Her tootings loud and clear for anyone who gets in her way. And watch her go in and out of the traffic. And their race against whoever and whatever, with that expression on her face. She’s so scary. I mean..they are so scary !
I am talking about Penang Makciks on motorbikes. We call them the Makcik Rempits. And boy.. they are really scary I tell you !
Ye Ye Orh...sajer 
