Sleepless in Penang

The speakers on the nearby mosque wailed with the undulating tones of Arabic chanting. It was about 5:30 a.m., and I was woken by the Fajr, the morning Muslim call to prayer. I opened my eyes to the wood beams that comprised the ceiling of the hotel room, listening to the melodic rise and fall of the imam’s voice permeating through the dense, muggy air. This isn’t a country in the Middle East, I remembered; I was in Pulau Pinang (or Penang Island in English).

On Penang Hill, looking down
onto Georgetown and the
mainland in the distance

Penang is off the coast of mainland Malaysia and is one of the states. It is a four-hour drive north from Kuala Lumpur, fairly near the border with Thailand. Specifically, I was in Georgetown, the capital city of Penang. A predominantly Chinese town in a predominantly Chinese province, and governed by a Chinese governor, Georgetown begs to be compared to KL. It is a symbol of what KL was and what KL should have been.

In the heart of Old Georgetown is a complete maze of Chinese cantons, homes large and small, and storefronts with names in Chinese, Tamil, Malay and English squeezed onto a single board. Georgetown was founded in 1786 and the cantons date back to about then. This entire area received recognition by UNESCO as a World Heritage site in 2008, basically meaning that the old section would be protected from further redevelopment.

A rickshaw in front of the historic
Cheong Fatt Tze mansion

And this is where Georgetown and all of Penang differs from KL—the strong desire to maintain its history instead of bulldozing over everything and rebuilding in the name of progress. The colonial buildings from British domination still stand and the Chinese mansions and storefronts are preserved at the same time that modern buildings are raised and Penang turns itself into the hi-tech center of Malaysia. Public art abounds in the city. In KL, in stark contrast, nary a colonial building still stand and old communities are razed for the next gleaming mall or housing development.

Looking down Chulia Street
in old Georgetown

There is a balance in Penang of maintaining the old and accepting the new. The hotel we stayed in—Yeng Keng Hotel—seemed to exemplify this delicate ying and yang, with classical Chinese décor but with modern features. Old men of Chinese, Indian and Malay descent sit and talk amiably while Western tourists duck their heads into stores that sell hand-made chairs with woven bamboo seats or a camera that dates back to the 1800s. A modern Air Asia storefront stands beside a stall that is seemingly busy fixing engines for all sorts of ancient things.

When I visit a city, I ponder whether I can see myself living there. Though hectic compared to most American cities, Georgetown is a calm oasis compared to the typhoon that is Kuala Lumpur. The old town provides an endless supply of interesting things to explore. And the food—similar to that offered in the mainland—is a cornucopia of Chinese, Malay, and south Indian cuisines and mixing thereof. Of the many cities I’ve been to around the world, Georgetown is surprisingly one of those cities that—yes—I really can imagine myself building a life there. These are the things I thought about as I lay awake in Penang, listening to the haunting call to prayer.