Border Crossing - Stop 10, Thailand

Penang, like Perhentian Kecil, is an island. However, this one is much bigger and connected to the mainland by a bridge. It took about 6 hours to get there, and within 10 minutes the rain started. I have never seen anything like it – the rain drops were thick and fat like in Brazil but unlike there, it was not over in 15 minutes. The streets were flooded very quickly, starting at about 10 cm from the curb but soon spreading out until the whole street was covered in a thick (say 1 foot) layer of water. Cars drove into monsoon drains, people splashed through in flip-flops, tried to shelter under umbrellas or newspapers, vehicles made waves as they drove through this newly created river.

Georgetown, like Melaka, is a melting pot of different cultures. There is a strong Chinese influence here but also Indians as well as the Malays. This means that the food is, yet again, pretty delicious. Venturing out to small street stalls you can enjoy a range of curries, rice and vegetable dishes. The best place to eat, yet again, was the night market. This time it was covered (useful with the rain) and came with live entertainment! The first night I chose laksa aram, a spicy, sour soup with fish paste – delicious! I followed this up with some great dim-sum, the best of which was thick slices of pork in a tangy yet sweet sauce, the whole melting in your mouth, washed down with beer brought to you by the beer ladies: the Carling lady wears a Carling outfit, the Guinness lady is robed in a black t-shirt emblazoned with their logo, etc. As the night progresses, the man playing a mixture of English and Chinese crooner songs on the keyboard is joined by various couples dancing different ballroom-type dances on a make-shift dance floor in front of the Western Food stall and some diners.

After nearly getting locked into a temple complex and thinking I would have to sleep on the backs of the hundreds (no exaggeration) of turtles in their pond, I get back to the heart of Georgetown and my passport is back from the Thai Embassy, visa in there like the prized fruit stickers of my youth. The next morning, I am on a bus to Thailand...a very full bus. The ride only cost R55 and was full to the brim. The diminuitive storage area in the back was packed with backpacks, the seats were full with packages and every other available seat was taken by someone. There were two other tourists (from the UK) and everyone else was Thai. At the border we all got out and the farang were questioned about whether they enjoyed Malaysia while waiting in line to have passports stamped out. Then back in the van across no-man's land to Thailand, where all of a sudden there were no real orderly lines or rules – want to line up at the drive through counter? No problem. Want to push in front of white people at the walk-in counter? But of course!

Once in Hat Yai we transferred to another bus that took us to Krabi that also seemed to act like a local bus and dropped people and packages off at houses along small country roads. I no longer understood any of the road signs or adverts – although the Roman alphabet is sometimes used in Thailand, they usually use their own which looks beautiful but is completely incomprehensible to me. Oddly enough, it sometimes looks almost square, like Russian or Korean, and other times far more ornate and flowery. A tonal language, I find it harder to pick up than Malay or Indonesian, but it is early days yet, the rain was left behind in Hat Yai and the beach of Ao Nang awaits tomorrow. First, off to find Krabi's night market for the best yet cheapest eats!