A Stomach Bug

Malay food is delicious and to die for – the fresh spices, local ingredients, and expertise at which they’re cooked; $2 noodles from street vendors, or plentiful lists of local favourites in restaurants. However. Having said that, it seems as if all our poor, delicate, westernised stomachs can’t quite handle it. I’ve had a bout of a terrible stomach bug – and if anyone tries to tell you anything different, then they’re lying. Bridge and Annie have also periodically been unwell, it seems as if all three us are never quite right at one time. Pills and fluids litter our room, and as the temperature soars and coats Penang in a sticky heat, our fevers rise and fall – one of us spending the afternoon in bed whilst another was up the entire night before emptying the contents of their stomach. Yuck. Safe to say that any possible boundaries (however minute) are well and truly destroyed. We have no secrets. We have no shame. We have no privacy.

But you know, we all might be a bit off – but it hasn’t spoiled our time at all. We’re still holding our breath as we scoot through the streets of Penang, exploring Little India with all the spices and flowers, and I am still continually hitting my head on doorways and bowing to enter shop fronts. I’ve also admittedly become quite an attraction as people point and stare, ask me how tall I am, and ask for photos with me. Quite the celebrity. Every time it happens I’ll sort of roll my eyes at the girls and apologise, before putting on an enthusiastic smile for the fans and taking the time to talk to them. It’s not ideal, but when you’re admired you just sort of have to roll with it I suppose. I mean, the constant attention and hassle and photos can be a drag, but what’s a girl to do? Bridge and Ann will tell you that I love it, they’re liars.

Speaking of Annie actually, you had better lap up everything I say about her, in all her British glory, on the count of the fact that I have a 200 Ringget bet that she’s going to get rabies and die. Honestly. The amount of time she spends petting stray cats and snuggling greasy one-eyed dogs…she’s literally digging her grave one poor-sodden-feral-animal at a time. Rabies probability is high. Enjoy her quick witted humour whilst you can. For example today she said that there is no way I would ever climb Mount Everest, and I can barely walk two streets. She then followed up by saying that she’ll buy me Mount Everest if I ever succeed in doing it. 

One might call her a supportive friend. Once I own Mount Everest I’ll ban her from my mountain. But then again, rabies is still on the table so I’m making money off her anyway.

Anywho, I suppose I had better stop whinging about my friends and my HARD LIFE in Malaysia and tell you what’s up, because, - apologies for lack of posts recently but I’ve been pretty busy yolo swaggin it Malay style.

This is what’s up; Malaysia is awesome and if you’re at home reading this I feel sorry for you. Like, my sincere pity for you, little reader, sitting wherever you are.

Upper Penang Road

We headed to the Butterfly Farm because a) it’s a cultural thing and b) they’re fun and c) everyone likes butterflies. And they’re colourful. And they make you appreciate your life more, because butterflies only have a super short lifecycle of like, 2 days. If there was ever an animal who would need to fully engage in a yolo lifestyle it would be them.

These Laos Black Forest Scorpions turn blue under ultraviolet light...super creepy hey

Our afternoon in Penang was passed on the glorious Malay beaches, eating noodles from an off-the-beaten-track café called ‘Slow Rock Café’ which was conveniently located next to the actual Hard Rock Café. You know, but we’re way too sophisticated and travel snobby to go to a chain restaurant. FLIPPIN HUGE iguanas swam on the rivers below where we ate…like SUPER HUGE CROC SIZE IGUANAS. Monkeys swag past the trees and I warned Ann to stay away re the rabies sitch.

Off the beaten track

Dropped off on a highway

Malay beaches

We snuck into private pools of swanky hotels on the beach, only to be kicked out in an awkward fashion. After playing it cool and trying to avoid a SHE DOESN’T EVEN GO HERE situation, the pesky security guard may as well have been called Sherlock for his detective skills. After lying about our room number (failed) and then admitting we were lying and that we were actually friends of Mr Yings, who stayed at the hotel (failed, but I got 10/10 for creativity with the name) we finally admitted defeat. Whilst all the interrogation was on, I was actually in the process of getting changed, and had a VERY awkward bra-half-on-half-off situation under my singlet, whilst my bather top was also chilling on my upper body in a half-on-half-off type of fashion. Whilst trying the play the part and answer his questions with ease about the legitimateness of our presence in the 5-star resort pool, I was also simultaneously trying to properly dress myself, whilst maintaining eye contact with the pleasant gentleman. Then one top or another got caught on the singlet and that was coincidentally when we got kicked out, so I then had to half-hobble out of the pool/beach area with quite a few spectators gazing curiously on, as Sherlock wouldn’t even let me get properly dressed before he promptly escorted us off the property.

Was not CG’s finest moment.

Stomach bug or not, I somehow had the feeling that Sherlock would not permit me to even use the 5-star bathroom, which was probably complete with candles, incense, a dry bath mat and an appointed bathroom assistant to make your bathroom experience the true 5-star quality that Sherlock obviously prided himself on upholding.