Malaysia is an uncivilised place, but my sister says that compared to India it's paradise. I am not enamored of the charms of Third World countries, so I always say that the only reasons to go to Malaysia are to eat and make fun of Malaysia(ns). With regards to cuisine, the food is generally better, but instead of going to Malaysia to seek out hawkers, one can just wait for the hawkers to come to you - in December, the Penang hawkers will be coming to the York hotel again! And as a bonus, the food will be hygienically prepared, with no negative impact on its taste (though as I understand it, dirt is a plus for some). One can also get Seremban Siew Bao in Chinatown, so there's no need to trek all the way to Perlis for it. As for the latter reason, one can easily make fun of Malaysia(ns) from Singapore. Ergo, there's no reason to go there.
Other reasons why Malaysian food might be better are benefits from specialisation (the variety of food there is less than Singapore) and higher standards; according to a local source, if the food at an establishment is not up to scratch, Penangians will refuse to eat there.
One can get much food in Malaysia that can't be gotten in Singapore. There was this biscuit shop in Penang with shelves full of biscuit tins, and even in the 90s the selection of biscuits in Singapore was wanting (though the fact that they needed to advertise that their 'kualiti biskut' was 'hygienic foodstuff' tells you something). I love A&W Root Beer Floats and Curly Fries! I saw a Domino's on the way to Senai, but I bet they don't have the best ingredients. And I tried a Boston Creme Doughnut at the Dunkin Donuts at Senai, but it sucked because there was something missing (creme), or more likely something added (palm oil).
Hotel 1926 doesn't let you dial outside lines from your room without operator intervention, so if you need modem access don't stay there.
Penang taxi drivers have formed a cartel to cheat non-natives of their money by not using the meter and charging a rate at least 100% above the projected meter fair. Said meters are cunningly hidden by pieces of paper, calendars or even custom-cut pieces of cloth. They can smell tourists just as "Dogs can smell fear, and women can smell desperation" (in the words of The Associate aka He Who Must Not be Named aka mindgame aka nw.t.).
There's a branch of the franchise school in Penang - "Convent Lebuh Light". They have the same crest as local franchisees, but a differently tinged uniform. It proclaims that it was the "first girls' school in Malaysia, Singapore and Japan". At that rate, they might as well add Papua New Guinea, Laos, Zaire and Mongolia to the list.
The Malaysian smell, reminiscent of cesspits being cleaned out, hangs over many Penang streets. It is perhaps due to dubious and unmentionable slosh being poured into open drains without being properly flushed down (in indeed such an effort is made in the first place). Luckily my experiences as the garbage man in NDP 2002 have inured me to must scents.
At Jalan Pinang, there are two "Penang Road Famous Cendol" stores. One of them has a Halal sign and is patronised by Malays and Indians. The other is called "Penang Road Famous Teochew Cendol", has no Halal sign and is patronised by Chinese. It also has a picture of Phua Chu Kang and Rosie to aid hapless Singaporeans misled by the nefarious ersatz Cendol peddlers. However, it sucks. The coconut milk was a bit sour, the ice wasn't smooth and was clumped together, nothing was mixed well and the gula melaka was weak and insipid. Better stuff could be had at any Singaporean food court (or at the [Haram!] Nonya Secrets restaurant we patronised for dinner one nigh).
We were walking along the road when suddenly one guy drove up the street for quite a distance against the flow of traffic and made a large turn across three lanes of traffic coming at him. Only in Ma-laysia.
I was in Giant Supermarket when suddenly James Dobson came on air, sponsored by Kentucky Fried Chicken. A Silent Scream echoed across the recesses of my mind. Though I was not facing imminent extinction or being torn apart, dismembered, disarticulated, crushed and destroyed by unfeeling, steel instruments, the depth of my horror could not be sufficiently articulated. [Someone: religion is a scary thing. it gives you the power to speak to people in penang]
The Cheong Fatt Sze mansion's a good example of how to carry out conservation works.
There was a factory outlet called "Reject Shop". I love the Malaysian penchant for names.
Malaysian mannikins are disturbing. They look like they were gassed with the Joker's laughing gas.
A place called 'Rustic Heritage' had a sign saying that parking was for 'Rustic Charm' customers only. Oh well.
What's the point of wearing a tudung if you expose your arms or worse, your neckline?
Slightly off-colour, probably bootleg kids' White Ranger outfit
Even Malaysian Coke is only 325ml. Gah.
The Nandos at Penang airport had flat Coke, and the Mango smoothie I had was the worst I have ever had: limp in flavour, not sweet enough and only slightly richer than a 7-11 slurpee (which is itself not rich at all). The food was alright, thankfully.
Rebonding is still very much in fashion in Ma-laysia, and among more segements of society than just SACSAL-types.
The prayer rooms at Penang Airport are segregated, and they have pasted on the doors this sign:
Translation: This is not a toilet
The Island of Doom looks innocuous from the air.
