King of the Road: a Peddle Around Penang by Mark Eveleigh

As I pedalled 120kg of clattering antique ironmongery through the sultry Malaysian heat, I could feel the muscles in my overextended thighs burning. In the seat in front of me, adding to the weight – and the strain with constant, albeit good-natured, laughter – sat a portly Chinese gentleman. For more than 40 years Mr Choo has been the pilot of this venerable piece of Malaysian history and I figured that he was more than deserving of a short break.

Betcha Bottom Dollar

There had been a moment of real panic at the junction of Penang Road and Chulia Street when I belatedly realised that I had no idea where the brake was. But Mr Choo’s frantic jabbering alerted me to the location of a large metal footbrake that was cunningly hidden under the seat. We emerged into the traffic miraculously unscathed, to a fanfare of bleating taxi horns.
   
Mr Choo had taken some convincing – and an additional exchange of what is known in Malaysia as minyak wangi (literally ‘fragrant oil’, with which to grease the palm) – before I was allowed into the hallowed seat of the trishaw that originally belonged to his grandfather. But a few minutes later he was sitting happily back, like an enormous hatchling among my clustered nest of shopping bags. My Nikon was draped proudly over his chest like an oversized black medallion.
   
Penang is renowned for the cycle trishaws, known here as beca (pronounced as in ‘betcha bottom dollar’), that an icon of this unique little island. The beca was originally brought in to replace the hand-pulled jinrickshaw that had previously shouldered the weight of an embryonic public transport system. By 1970 there were about two thousand five hundred cycle trishaws in Penang. Today, there are just over two hundred of these venerable vehicles left and, with more falling into disrepair with each passing season, many fear that the end of the road is in sight for the beca.

Gateway to the Straits of Malacca

Georgetown, Penang’s main city, is small enough to walk around but beca are still the ideal way to experience the history and atmosphere of the island that was once the fortified gateway to the Straits of Malacca. I had spent a lot of time shuttling around Georgetown in a trishaw but it was not until later, during my own bout at the pedals, that I truly appreciated the level of fitness necessary to maintain forward motion on these heavy vehicles.

With only a few exceptions, the ‘beca-boys’ of modern day Penang are a long, long way from boyhood. Most are in their sixties and there is one famous septuagenarian beca-boy who recently cycled his trishaw from Georgetown, 30km over the hills to Batu Ferringhi beach. I only got a few hundred metres beyond the town centre before my thighs were burning and my lungs aching. Between Mr Choo’s gusts of cackled laughter, I could hear the blood pumping in my ears.

“No pain no gain, lah!” my passenger chortled. I clenched my teeth and reminded myself that my destination was the perfect place to cure my tortured muscles.

Zen-like Calm

By the time I was slipping my shoes off amid the zen-like calm of the inner sanctum at Deluxcious Spa, Mr Choo had already assumed his traditional recumbent position;  lying back with only his feet showing from the shady seat of his beca. Minutes later I too was sprawled in a dimly lit private suite while a Balinese masseuse by the name of Lilly applied healing hands to knotted calf muscles.

When I had first informed Mr Choo of my destination he had shaken his head and kindly offered to guide me to another massage establishment. All over Asia trishaw boys are renowned for their local knowledge. Every old time adventurer, sailor, writer or vagabond knew that if you wanted information on which ship was looking for deckhands, who was hiring mercenaries or what was the latest gossip on the love-life of local politicians, you simply had to ask a Georgetown beca-boy. I was aware though that Mr Choo’s recommended establishment probably offered a very different set of services from those offered by the talented and infinitely respectable Lilly.

The Deluxcious Spa Cuisine is perhaps Penang’s finest and it is the island’s first ‘Spa Cuisine.’ Upstairs you can enjoy pampered luxury in an ambience that is thick with all the Balinese charm of ‘the Island of the Gods.’ Afterwards you can slip downstairs to the restaurant to tuck into more earthly delights such as Indian Ocean lobster or prime grain-fed Australian steak.
   
Taking the ‘spa cuisine’ concept to its logical conclusion I ended my session sat in a Jacuzzi of skin-softening cow’s milk while I spooned mouthfuls of the most delicious orange-scented crème caramel. It had been a long day already but I had to struggle to convince myself that I was in any way deserving of such unparalleled luxury.

Luminous Malaysian Morning

It had been a typically luminous Malaysian morning when we cycled away from the whitewashed grandeur of the Eastern & Oriental Hotel (‘Eat and Owe’ in the vernacular of old-time planters who came here for an occasional taste of luxury). A gentle trade-wind rustled the palms as Mr Choo steered a confident course through the rush-hour traffic on Lebuh Farquhar.

There are trishaws in many Asian cities but Penang’s are unusual in that the passenger sits in front of the rider. At first this exposed position gives you the feeling that you are being used as a battering ram but you soon realise that the beca of Penang are virtually inviolable. They have priority over all other traffic; blame for any collision is immediately placed with the driver of any other vehicle that has the misfortune to collide with a beca. As one confirmed beca-boy had put it, “This thing is king of the road. Other drivers know the score: you touch, you pay.”

South East Asian markets are best appreciated early in the morning so our first stop was a dawn raid on Penang’s favourite ‘thieves market’ at Lorong Kulit. Legend has it that, in Penang’s darker, more lawless days, this was the place to come to buy back the belongings that had been stolen from you in the previous week.

These days, thankfully, there is little in the way of stolen merchandise here but it remains a fantastic place to buy unusual antiques and souvenirs. Fruit sellers from Sumatra (selling thorny durian, hairy rambutan and the bizarre scaly snakefruit) set up shop next to racks of fake Rolex watches and Timberland wallets. A herbal healer (purveyor of an unlikely assortment of ‘performance enhancing’ balms) shares stall space with an old lady selling antique Malay wedding head-dresses and collectible square coins bearing the image of ‘George VI – King Emperor.’

Fresh Mango Juice

We breakfasted on fresh mango juice and strong kopi jantan (literally ‘male coffee’) and then Mr Choo guided me back into town to an early lunch at the Hong Kong Foodcourt. Over a dozen foodstalls were set out like a wagon-train barricade around a cluster of tables. Hungry mouths opened for chopsticks loaded with noodles or slurped bee hoon soup with all the voracity of baby birds.

South East Asian ‘hawker centres,’ with the great diversity of meals they offer, surely represent one of the most sensible dining systems in the world. You order what you fancy from any of the stalls that specialise in Malay, Indian, Chinese, Thai or Indonesian food. There are stands that sell only rice, noodle, soup, beef, vegetable, chicken, duck, squid, satay, fruit juice and dessert. The choice is almost limitless but, despite the clamour and the bustle, orders are very rarely confused. Your meal will have the freshest produce and is almost always cooked fresh, directly in front of you. The cabaret? All Asian food-centres are truly hypnotic places for people-watching.

I ordered nasi goreng (fried rice) from one stall and chicken satay in a delicious peanut sauce from another. Mr Choo made his way to his two favourite stalls to order fish-head soup and a plate of chicken’s feet. Afterwards we raised cups of Chinese green tea to ‘the king of the road’ and – like Noel Coward’s mad dogs and Englishmen – went gamely back out into the midday sun.

Rumbling Trucks and Gleaming Mercedes

“Chicken’s feet help you to pedal faster,” Mr Choo cackled as he weaved confidently through the traffic. Rumbling trucks and gleaming Mercedes tore past us as we made our stately way down Light Lane towards the crumbling battlements and weather-beaten cannons of Fort Cornwallis. It was Sir Francis Light who first had the bright idea of firing a cannon, full of gold-pieces, into the dense jungles on what was then Pulau Pinang (Betel Nut Island). As was hoped, this extravagant bombardment inspired the gathered Malay labourers to clear the rainforest in record time, and Georgetown was born.

Mr Choo steered a smooth curve into the delightfully named Love Lane. This street is named after another stalwart of early British colonialism – rather than the sensitive emotion – but it is hard to imagine that it is purely coincidental that Love Lane has always been a favourite haunt for Penang’s shadier nocturnal workforce.
   
As we entered Chinatown, Mr Choo eased over to the side of the road to allow me to haggle for a durian. Penang is famous for producing some of the best examples of what has been called ‘the king of fruit.’ As usual, the durian seller was positioned on a lonely corner of the market, relatively distant from the sensitive noses of his market-trader colleagues. You either love durian or hate them but it is the overwhelming stench rather than the taste itself that usually puts people off. Graham Greene best described the experience when he said it was ‘like eating a magnificent raspberry blancmange in a foul public toilet.’

Illegal Contraband

In hotels and on public transport in many Asian cities, durians are treated as illegal contraband (try smuggling one into the Shangri-La in Singapore and see how popular it makes you). After I promised to share with him, however, Mr Choo put up no such restrictions and the spiky green cannonball of a fruit was loaded into the beca.
   
As we turned another corner into Market Street the scent of the durian was mercifully overpowered by a delicious tang of spices carried on the Indian Ocean breeze. Even before you enter Little India you catch the throaty, mouth-watering scent of curry and ginger. One block farther on and an all-out bombardment of all your senses begins; over-saturated posters of Bollywood starlets burn themselves onto your retinas and the screeching lamentations of some heart-broken Delhi popster pierces your ear-drums. With the scent of spices and the flash of bright saris it would be easy to believe that you are in some particularly attractive and well-kept Bengali bazaar.

We passed the candy-coated statues on the facade of the Sri Mariamman Hindu temple, the shining grandeur of Kapitan Keling Mosque (Penang’s oldest), and the incense clouds swirling in front of the Yak Kongsi Chinese temple. Its evocative mix of cultures has made Georgetown into one of those rare places that finally live up to that favourite brochure-writer’s cliché: it really is ‘a feast for the senses.’ With this in mind, we paused by the waterfront Pier at Weld Quay and feasted on the sweet sticky durian.  

Jungles of Sumatra

By the time I emerged from my Cleopatra-esque Jacuzzi the sun was sinking nearer to the western horizon and the jungles of Sumatra. Mr Choo was nowhere to be seen and with time running short I flagged down a taxi and was soon winding my way up the flank of Penang Hill. To the colonial settlers Penang Hill was a necessary escape from ‘the rigours of the tropics.’ With the homesickness of colonial exiles everywhere they tried to create ‘home from home’, even on what was already one of the most beautiful and desirable islands in the empire.

In 1922, a funicular railway was built to shuttle sightseers up, through rainforest where monkeys gather, to the 830-metre summit. Apart from the stunning view over Georgetown and across to the Malay Peninsula, Penang Hill offers the novelty of a climate that is more akin to the highlands of Scotland than to Asia.

Just as the last haze of ochre disappeared from the sky, an icy drizzle began to settle and I rushed for the warmth and cosy atmosphere of David Brown’s Restaurant and Tea Terraces. A Devonshire cream tea on the sheltered terrace, while mist-banks swirled among the moss-covered trees could be an irresistible temptation. Or almost irresistible; a dinner of roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and horse-radish sauce beside a log fire must be one of the most surreal experiences that this fascinating island can offer.

Penang Punch

The British left their influence on Penang in many ways but The Eastern & Oriental Hotel remains the most enduring icon of those days. Among the dark-oak furniture and starch-shirted waiters of Farquhar’s cocktail bar, you feel that you have stepped back into the Far East of yesteryear. I sipped a Penang Punch in the presence of the spirits of Somerset Maugham and Joseph Conrad. In such a corner they are never far away.

On a whim I asked the bartender, “Where was the best place to head to soak up the Penang nightlife?”. He answered with a stock phrase that Conrad himself must have heard from one or two bartenders in his time: “Best bet is to pop out and ask a beca-boy. Those fellas know everything lah!”   

Experience Penang

Best cultural sight: Some of Penang’s most remarkable buildings are the traditional kongsi clan-houses which are still maintained by donations from the descendents of ‘Straits Chinese’ who have emigrated all over the world. The most magnificent is Khoo Kongsi. It was so utterly ostentatious that, when it was built in 1901 (after 7 years of labour), nobody was truly surprised when the roof caught fire on opening night; the ancestors were clearly enraged that anyone had the audacity to build something so spectacular on mortal soil.

Best beach: The 3km of bleached sand and turquoise waves that make up Batu Ferringhi beach (30km from Georgetown) are the best that Penang has to offer. This beach attracts regular visitors from as far afield as Kuala Lumpur and Singapore. There are several attractive and inexpensive guesthouses here and some delightfully laid-back beach bars. After sunset Batu Ferringhi night-market becomes one of Penang’s prime shopping venues.

Best for nature: Penang’s Tropical Fruit Farm is spread over 25 hectares of lush hillside. In its orchards, more than 200 varieties of tropical and sub-tropical fruits are grown, including dozens of types of bananas, scores of mangos, lychees and papayas as well as the bizarre snakefruit, dragon fruit and the legendary durian. Nearby the Tropical Spice Garden cultivates more than 500 different spices. Take a stroll along sweetly scented paths like the Ginger Walk or Fern Walk or simply chill out in the Bamboo Garden or the Sugar Terrace.

Inspired? Check out Travel Intelligence's listings for luxury hotels Malaysia