I arrived in Penang just in time to go searching the wing of the bus terminal, opposite the side of my departing bus. I then spent two hours with an Indian guy waiting for a bus that did not show because 25 ringgits was too high a taxi fare to drive 10km to the hostel which did not have room for me. Finally, I hopped in the cab with the nice Indian man who had a gimp leg and a bizarre need to go to immigration at 11pm. The driver didn't speak any English and about halfway through my ride, I discovered the sly idiot was nodding when I mentioned the address of my hotel without any comprehension. I freaked out, signaling that he was going the wrong direction as he hit the freeway interchange for the only destination he understood. He tried to strong arm me by telling me to get out at the turn pike. I tried to negotiate a reduced taxi fare from immigration to no avail, as the taxi driver did not know his own city, Penang, or the streets on it, Love Lane (a UNESCO world heritage site). At long last, I asked to be let out at a corner restaurant, seeing as how he did not know the way. I read the speedometer, it said that I had about 5km to go to get to the hotel. I tried to pay the man 5 ringgit, half price for half the journey, he threw it in my face continuing with his geriatrics. At this threshold most people would start a fight with this man, I clenched my fist wanting to, but somehow due the language barrier and size disadvantage, just didn't make it fair. I tried to walk the last 5km, discovering that it was only highway between here and Penang before being turned around by Police on motorcycles. I went back to the restaurant, with a smile on my face, realizing the ridiculousness of the situation, me with my rolley bag trying to book it up the on-ramp. I spoke with several diners, trying to arrange a taxi, until finally a sweet old couple, who might have been the only English speaking people in the place, agreed to drive me after their meal. I sat politely reading a book in the corner until their dinner party dispersed. We rolled up in an short little economy car called a Proton. I unfolded myself out of the clown car thanking them profusely all the while. Triumphantly, I heaved myself to the steps of Reggae hostel, the attendant opened the door and joked with me that there was no room at the hostel. I laughed until I found out it wasn't a joke. I had a dead phone, it was 2:30am and I had not bothered to make a proper reservation. I thanked the hostess with gritted teeth as I backed out of the room. What could possibly be open at this hour? The place with the purple doors and a hole the size of a doggie door in the main entrance, that's where. A sweet old man named Jimmy greeted me and I slapped the money for the room down on the counter without thinking. It was only much later that I realized, disrepair did not begin to describe this place. Picture Tyler Durden's accommodations from fight club and then throw a few drug addicts and prostitutes into the mix. I sat with some burn-out German guy making small talk. Two girls passed back and forth in intervals of half an hour, always with an awkward-looking guy in tow. -Hell, I even noticed one of them was hiding an Adam's apple with a scarf while he/she paraded on by in a mini skirt and heels. Thankfully,they kept business downstairs and my room was upstairs. I went to my room, threw my towel on the disgusting bed and stared up at the mold and cobb webs on the ceiling. I was thankful for the whirl of the fan to keep the mosquitoes at bay. I checked *err ran out of the hotel at 7am still exhausted. It was time to pick new digs.
The next night was infinitely better. I came across a group of travelers while shopping for a new hotel, they were gathered around a cooking project. I inquired and they told me that they were marinating chicken in buckets and that they were going to have a beach BBQ at Batu Ferringi that evening. They asked if I would like to join and I quickly said yes. We had 3 rental motorbikes and needed one more. I put down a deposit for 150 ringgits and split the $10 rental with Michi. As we were about to leave, I informed Michael that I haven't ridden in a while which is code for, I haven't been on a motorbike since I dropped my friend, Matt's bike (and Andrew's before that). He knew exactly what to do and swapped passengers with a french guy who elected not to wear a helmet. It was about 30 minutes into our ride when he realized that this was a very bad idea, as the traffic was heavy and we rolled to the front of the intersections dodging hot exhaust pipes as we went. At the stop a fellow motorist made a big fuss pointing to his helmet at which point we had a short meeting between the two closest bikes. Chris, the local, informed me that I would be libel for his mistake should the cops pull us over. The French caught a bus back and we continued onto the beach BBQ, which turned out amazing. I had so much fun on that motorbike that I took it around the island, a waterfall and to Kek Lok Si temple the next day.
