Revisiting Mambukal

where the girls were while i was still in transit from work

waiting for everypne to finish with the morning ritual

smallest pineapple that i have ever seen

waking the koi's up on our way to brekkie smorgasboard courtesy of the Daños

trying hard not to get pissed with the driver going down at a snail's pace

finally at domsat...happpiness immesurable after a luncheon feast

Alone and Lost in a Big, Strange City

That is how my 4-day visit in Penang this week has ended. Since I wanted so much to pass through the celebrated Penang Bridge, I opted to take the bus while sis flies to KL. I thought I got all the instructions right until I found myself at a bus stop not 5 kilometers away from the Petronas twin towers. Nobody told me then that the airport is still a good one hour drive from the city. It might have been hunger (it was already past 5 pm and my last meal was porridge, fries and coffee from Mcdo back at Prangin Mall at around 10:30 am), but I thought the driver heard me right when I told him I’m paying RM18. When he confirmed that he agreed to RM80, I tried to haggle and asked if he’d take me at RM50. We did not settle into the amount that is good enough for both of us so I asked him to drop me at the nearest bus stop and gave him RM10 for the gas.

The scary thing was that I have no idea where I was except that across is a school and the good thing was that 5pm is still light at KL. To buy time and think about strategy, (I had none at that moment except calling sis as if it would somehow make things right). I absentmindedly bit into my stale burger while trying to get enough air into my lungs. I was already panicking and I can feel that I may pass out if I would allow it to happen.

I’ve never been as excited as seeing another soul in the waiting shed on that rather deserted place. But the disappointment that followed after she articulated “Melayu” (as her way of telling me that she could neither understand nor speak English) set my heartbeat to an unusual rate again.
The school guard on duty was the next person I bothered with my dilemma but he doesn’t know any better. The last person I approached appeared just as I was about to leave the guardhouse. Not only does he speak English well, but he gave me precise instructions on how to get to my destination. From the bus stop, I should take Bas 32 and pay 2RM for Puduraya Bus Station. From there, I have to take another bus to KL Sentral, still for 2RM. KL Sentral have buses that ply the KLIA/LCCT route for RM10.

I alit just across the spot where I disembarked from the Penang-KL bus just over an hour ago, with the huge Maybank building looming overhead and the Puduraya bus station just straight ahead. I’ve seen the same building earlier but I thought sis meant that I should take a taxi from there to the airport when what she meant was that if I get down anywhere away from the bus station, I should get a taxi to get to it…waaah. It’s pretty messy.

I have been at the same place more than two years ago but held no remembrance of the place so I went with the flow of people who entered the building. I scanned the destinations of each platform (24 in all) but nothing said KLIA/LCCT. So I looked for a man in uniform and got my answer. The ticket counter was downstairs and the bus doesn’t go down the station anymore to pick up passengers so I had to wait on the loading/unloading section of the street just outside the terminal.

The encounter with the person who sells tickets is a bit scary though. I think that was a pick up line. He said, “You are Filipina? I like Filipina.” Waah! And when he went out of the booth and tried to chat me up, I struggled to keep a straight face and tried to be not too friendly anymore. Thank heavens he got a message. He ignored me (but not too soon for my peace of mind) and started talking animatedly with a colleague on a walkie-talkie and was laughing a lot…maybe about me, thought my near paranoid mind. The bus was 15 min late (I was scheduled for the 7:15pm trip) and was nearly at my wits end with the person’s unhealthy stare and equally unhealthy speech when I saw the bus with the number that matches one on my ticket.

I learned a few kilometers later, that I’m going to be the trip’s only passenger. Imagine the trauma that I’ve been through the whole one-hour ride. Add to that sis’ sms that said, “Do not sleep”. I think my “fear” was so eloquent that the driver felt it. Though I sat on the first row, he never bothered with small talk. He smiled when I grabbed my bag as soon as we approached the parking space next to the airport food court and briefly told me to wait until he turns off the machine. He must have thought, “Poor girl”.

So that was my story. What’s yours?

Penang Hill

Midway through the trip and the marked change in the air temperature was felt already. It was a welcome respite from the stifling heat of the city.

The vans on both ends teemed with tourist that getting a decent shot of the passing train at the opposite track or getting in/out of the tunnel was next to impossible.

“ Baguio !” This was overheard from Koreans in the group, when we reached our final stop while the cool place reminded me so much of Murcia .

The restoration is not well in place yet. They could learn a thing or two about landscaping from my tennis coach. But the view of the city from the top was breathtaking. Imagine how it looks at night.

We didn’t wait for dusk though as two trips were cancelled and there’s dinner to catch at Gurney Drive . The train on display at the zenith of penang hill which I thought to be a replica was the actual coach used between 1923 – 1977.