I got up early to organize my onward journey, I was of a mind to to meander to Koh Pa Ngan. I wanted to take my time on the way up because I was well aware that I might be nursing a fried nervous system on my way down, both geographically and possibly metaphorically. The plan, as it currently stood, was to take the early boat to Langkawi. I was very curious about this Island, from what I'd gathered from other like-minded people it was the epitome of all that was wrong with capitalism. The government has designated it a tax-free resort, for no other reason I could fathom other than to encourage tourists to part with their hard-earned cash here, as opposed to any where else. Of course I had also met people who loved it, and wanted to retire there. I didn't, I just wanted to see it. From there I would get an afternoon boat to Satun, and spend whatever intermediate time I had exploring Langkawi.
No one, except me, the rats, and a few breakfast hawkers seemed to get up before 11:00 in Penang. I've never really been able to accept that a place can properly function with a populous that rises so late. It's too casual for my liking, you see. I feel guilty getting out of bed after 9:30am--it doesn't matter what time I go to bed at or how much I drank the previous night. . . I still feel guilty. That is, unless I'm in bed with a woman, then I can hold out until 11:00am. This might have worked out just fine in Penang, but I hadn't had a chance to test that theory here, not yet anyway.
Back in my formative years in Northern Ireland I worked with my father on the building sites, he was a builder and I, his assistant. We were always up at the crack of dawn, my tea breaks were all of 15 minutes in length. We were on-site before anyone else and worked later than anyone else. I loved it, much to my father's disappointment, as his plan was for me to hate it, and in turn hope I would study. I studied, but not because I hated building, but because I loved it too, it's fair to say psychology was not one of my father's strong points. One day in 1991, I was on a site of a new house we were building for Phelim O'Neil--he worked in an Abattoir and has never lost a limb in it. . . he runs it now. We were waiting for concrete to come--"we" consisted of me, my father, and Mickey McCrystal, a monster of a man. The concrete was fashionably late, concrete often is for some reason. We were on site at 8:00am preparing for a 8:30am delivery. It came to 10:00am, and heated phone calls had been made. There were no mobile phones in McMeel construction at that time, and making a call required jumping on a horse and galloping to the nearest telegraph office. Anyway, it was still 10:00am and we were still waiting for the concrete to make its entrance. We were at the point now where no entrance was going to properly compensate us emotionally for enduring this wait, in that sense, concrete is a lot like women. It had been drizzling all morning, it was cold, and it was a Tuesday. Da and Mickey were complaining about wasting time when Mickey said "if you don't get started before 9:00am in the morning the day is GONE, you may as well go home. That made sense to a cold, shivering seventeen year old then, and here I am 11 years later still haunted by those words. A good day's work must begin before 9:00am. This theory needed work if it was going to survive Penang. It deserved to survive--I was out in the street at 8:59am. It lives!
There was a 'mee-sup' stall just across the road from Oasis. Always vigilant to prevent dehydration in this country, I figured Mee Sup would make a good breakfast and sat down to a medium bowl of won-ton mee sup. There was no small talk, no "where you from?", no "do you want a wife?" It was just noodles and a look that said "hurry up and get the f*** out of that seat, so I can get another paying customer into it." It was a perfectly valid sentiment, THIS was a good start to the day I thought. I walked to the ferry terminal down empty streets. I like being out in empty streets, particularly in daylight. It feels like you have exclusive rights to the town. . . I was on a power trip. I passed a bus load of people which sort of blew my imaginary street right out of the water, but I made a mental note to get a ticket back to JB--it's always wise to buy in advance because at a moment's notice buses can book up fast! This is the case particularly during holidays, or when some royal prince or King goes to Jesus. It does not take anyone three hours to eat one medium bowl of mee-sup and it was still early by the time I'd killed breakfast. The new Peter Jackson Lord of the Rings-The Fellowship of the Ring was being released on pirate VCD in Penang that day, and virtually every restaurant I walked past had their show times up already--2:00, 5:00, 8:00, seemed to be the preferred times. I felt LOTR deserved the big screen so I wasn't interested. It shows, however, that most people are happy take a lesser version if its cheaper or free, not many would seem to value quality. Being a bit of a computer anorak, I was well aware that LOTR was a visual extravaganza, I did think they were blowing a bit too much smoke up their own arse. . . going on about it being a classic and an epic blah blah blah. Skepticism aside, it would need the big screen to do it justice--I value justice, and quality.
I made my way up to the ferry terminal, which naturally was closed, but it afforded me time to wander from shop to shop without being disturbed or harassed to buy a ticket, to see who could get me to Langkawi and who couldn't. I consulted my guidebook on the trip to see what advice I could get on the various agents. I settled on the one--it would leave early the next morning, it was fairly fast, and I would be able to get a connection later on that day to Satun in Thailand. This would give me 4 hours in Langkawi to see what all the fuss was about. Eventually it was 11:00am and the shop opened. I went in knowing where and when I was going, and 15 minutes later I had my day's work done. I would be leaving Penang on the early boat tomorrow morning for Langkawi. Onward journey planned, I returned triumphant to Oasis to hook up with Claudia and Apre for some exploring.
They were up, and sitting not far from where I had first seen the two of them the previous evening. Apre lying on the sofa to the left of the door, Claudia in the wicker chair to the right of the door (it was a popular chair). There were some pre-nuptials necessary before Claudia would exit the premises, even Apre required some grooming before stepping out into public. I really didn't see what the big fuss was about. Claudia armed herself with her guidebook and we were off. Our first stop was to find a Western Union bank, Claudia wanted to withdraw some money. This was how she traveled--he had money deposited in various Western Unions on her route, and would withdraw it at will. Being on the road for 15 months, you have to think differently than a 2-week/2-month road trip. Our first and only planned stop was the Padang up at Fort Cornwallis, and even at this hour as we walked the back streets we were still pretty much alone, apart from a few consummate travelers who were getting an early start. There wasn't much of a fort. . . the British usually do better, I thought.