Pulau Pinang: 5+ Days of Indulgence

It was supposed to be mostly work and little play but then only Steve Ortiz and I were traveling this time. And when it comes to interchanging work and play, we are, in technical lingo, known as the turn around specialists. A travel plan with a strategically placed weekend in the middle of equally distributed working days on both sides generally does the trick. And we were off to Pulau Pinang (Literally, Island of Pinang), located off the western coast of Malaysia.

In Transit (We absorbed a shock)

It was almost thirty six hour journey with three transit stops from Denver to Pulau Pinang and we decided to kill some time in Singapore by downing a few pints of local favorite, Tiger Beer. Folks, who haven’t been to this part of the world have to be warned before they go into shock. Some of these countries tax the hell out of alcoholic beverages. So much so that one look at bill could snap you back to sobriety, and could potentially put AA out of business. Airport bars, which live in a parallel universe, take this to a new level. In our case, fear of sobriety immediately prompted us to order another round. About 6 PM, we touched down in Pulau Pinang. Steve, whose only prior experience with humidity was mostly theoretical and highly technical (Probe-Stress-Probe of hermetically sealed MEMS devices) got a first whiff of what it is like to be that MEMS device, for a change. To me, it was a nostalgic reminder of my younger days spent working and traveling around southern Indian coastal regions.

A short cab ride and we ended up in a somewhat upscale “g Hotel”. If you have any doubts about the existence of chimerical g-spot, you need to visit the club of this hotel.

Day 1 (We had Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner)

I have always been a heavy breakfast kind of guy. In fact, I have been known to gain a few lbs. of weight during breakfast. Breakfast in this hotel is one of the most elaborate. Even if I count the fresh fruit section as only one item, there were over thirty items in breakfast buffet, which ranged from western staple of donuts & muffins to common Malay fare of Roti canai and everything in between. There were six different kind of Juices, two of which were freshly squeezed right in front of you. Unlike American supermarkets, where uniformity takes precedence over taste, fresh fruit in Malaysia was nothing short of heaven. Steve and I attacked it (and pressed on the charge for next five days) with such ferocity that effects were observed in slightly increased standard deviation of Fruits futures prices on commodities exchange. Breakfast was priced at RM 25 (~ US $8) for hotel guests.

Btw, Malaysian currency RM stands for Ringgit Malaysia. Money does have a ring to it and did Malaysians decide to exercise subtle mirth by calling it Ringgit? No, actually the word Ringgit in Malay means “Jagged”, which refers to the serrated edges of Spanish silver dollar, which circulated in this region few centuries back. And as any Malaysian (or Americans for that matter) of moderate means will tell you, when it comes to money, it is more like “Wring It”.

In the afternoon, one of our hosts (Eng) decided to take us for lunch to a place called “Passions of Kerala”. Just like original Kerala, the food was served on environmentally friendly banana leaf and consumed with minimal cutlery. Traditional rice and spicy southern Indian fare served from a bucket, with fried okra on the side to satisfy your crunchy needs, all downed with a glass of mango Lassi. And yes, we were able to go back to work after this.

When it comes to dining, Steve and I belong to different schools of thought. I, being a vegetarian, belong to careful Herbivore, who opens a dialog with food with a simple question, “Is it OK if I eat you?” If I do not detect any expression of fear and protests, I proceed. Steve belongs to school of Cautionary Omnivore, who skips the introductory questionnaire with an instruction to himself, “I better eat it, unless it eats me first”.  

Two of our hosts (Boon-Ghee and Voon) told us that they are taking us to a seaside restaurant. Immediately, an American image of seaside restaurant conjured up but we were in for a surprise. Hai Boey (Literally Sea Tail or End of the sea in Hokkien dialect of Chinese language) seafood restaurant has that natural ambience, which is a thing of past in most of the countries. Located at southern coastline of the island, this place has very affordable great food served under large flat canopy structure open on two sides, tables thrown in at random, right at the beach with a priceless open view of the ocean and another small island visible in the distance, and sun just happened to be setting at that time. This is where Steve also discovered another truth: All rest rooms are not created equal.

Chefs were kind enough to make vegetarian noodles for me and then there was Beer. “Save an animal, Drink a Beer” has always been a guiding philosophy of my life.

Day 2 (The day Durian almost killed us)

Durian is a unique fruit found in southeast Asia. The outer shell of this fruit is protected by a battery of thorns, which was apparently developed by Durian genetic research labs to protect Durian clan from naughty Orangutans. The real claim to fame (or vice versa) for this fruit however is its odor. Many a human-reactions to its odor have been recorded. People who find it somewhat pleasant think of almonds. People who find it revolting think of a teenager’s gym socks. One way or other it is true that fruit is officially banned from many hotels and public transportation in some cities. The eatable part is a yellow creamy custard-ish flesh inside, which actually is quite filling though taste along with accompanying odor may test the range of your palette and other senses. On Friday evening, we were driven to a roadside Durian stand by one of the hosts (Jackie). And besides tasting, we were also given a short lecture. Durian 101 covered the harvesting and selection of Durian (apparently best ones are selected by squirrels), varieties of Durian, methodology of cracking Durian shells and proper durian eating etiquette e.g. eat just the flesh and not the seeds. It would have helped some of us, if they had covered the eating etiquette first!

About 30 minutes after Durian tasting, commences a phenomenon, which is bound to stay in one’s memory for rest of their lives, and perhaps even in afterlife too: Most "memorable" burps. Our solution to burps has always been beer, so we got it started. It started in the hotel lounge with a buy one, get one free happy hour deal, continued on through dinner at Bali Hai (Literally Sea of Bali, a seafood place with a motto: If it swims, we have it), moved on to hotel club and finally ended at a bar named Michaelangelo’s around midnight.

Where is the killing part in all this? Well, two days later at work, when our hosts learned of our Durian adventure, told us with aghast faces that Durian and alcoholic beverages are medically in-compatible and apparently deaths have occurred with their con-current consumption. Some people think that just the odor of Durian is enough to cause a death or two. One way or other, it is now confirmed that Steve and I are walking medical wonders with proud ownership of robust digestive systems. 

This was also the day, when our host (Hui-Ling) introduced us to, without argument, Penangites’ THE favorite dessert of Chen-dul. Chen-dul consist of green glutinous noodles (green color imparted by Pandan plant leaves), red kidney beans, coconut milk, shaved ice, all topped with gula maleka (palm syrup). The word Chendul comes from original word Cendol (pronounced Chen-dul), which is the word for key ingredient, green noodles. So one can say, Chen-dul is made from Chen-dul.

Day 3 (Over the Hill)

Nothing cures the previous night’s excesses better than a good hike next morning. At 6:30AM, our host (Wong), who had graciously agreed to be our hiking guide, picked us up and ten minutes later, we started our hike to Penang Hill from Moongate. Penang Hill hike passes through a lush dense forest and is about ~2200 ft. of altitude. On the way, one gets great panoramic views of Pulau Penang, mainland, Malacca strait & a 13 mile bridge connecting mainland and Pulau Pinang below. Some resting points are built along the hike, one of them with some weight lifting machines, just in case you feel like building muscles while hiking up. A leisurely hike takes about 3-4 hours. Trail is mostly wet and slippery with some steep but manageable sections, so bring shoes with good grip. Do not try to attempt this hike in your CROCS, as some dumb guy was seen doing it. Near the top of this hike, there is a Garden of Carnivorous Plants, however we skipped it because we were too hungry!

On the top of the hill, there is a beautiful serene old Mosque and an old Hindu temple, which exist in perfect harmony side by side, just as God intended, and bears testimony to Malaysian society’s diversity and tolerance.

We took the funicular rail down the hill, which takes only about 10 minutes to get down.

Our host Wong happens to be to an excellent food blogger in Penang (http://www.bestpenangfood.com), so he decided to introduce us to a sampling of Pinang’s hole in the wall places in the afternoon. We started with a small jam packed aromatic place, where a long line of people waited for, you guessed it, Chen-dul. In accordance with capitalism principles, one can cut the line here, if you ready to pay more. We ordered Rojak (Literally meaning Mixture in Malay), fish curry and of course, Chen-dul.

Rojak is a kind of fruit, dough fritters, bean curd salad heaped with peanuts and a thick sauce. Pregnant women love taste of Rojak. There is a popular folk-lore around Indonesia that if an Expectant lady’s verdict on Rojak taste is sweet, then it going to be a Girl and if verdict is spicy, then it is going to be boy…..Girls are sweet and Boys are spicy….go figure!

After this, we moved to a roadside joint, where a pair of well practiced hands (all fingers were intact) were dexterously hacking green coconuts with a machete for its delicious water and flesh. And from there we were brought to the Him Heang confectionery, which is renowned for its signature Tambun and other biscuits. The queue for Tambun is so long that it is better to order today and collect tomorrow.

For dinner time, we decided to visit the Little India area of Pinang. After downing a few Paulaners at a German pub, we explored the area which is declared UNESCO world heritage. The real attraction however around here is the interactive street art (combining real objects and drawn objects) by Lithuanian artist Ernest Zacharevic.

Little India is just like real India. Latest Malyalam music blaring at high decibel level and eager entrepreneurs ready to give you an irresistible deal on pirated DVDs. There are three kinds of shops here. Women’s jewelry, women’s clothes and Restaurants…..just like real India. Steve and I grabbed a prime out-door seating (roadside front of the restaurant) at Anand Bhavan and proceeded through the menu starting with appetizer (Vada Sambhar), intermediate (Cheese Naan, vegetarian accompaniments and Tandoori Chicken), final course (Plain dosa, Masala Dosa & Mutton Dosa) followed by dessert (Burfi and Boondi Laddoo). The bill rang at RM 30 (~US $10).

Day 4 (The Day God was proud of us….well, kind of)

This was the day we visited Buddhist Kek Lok Si Temple (literally Temple of supreme bliss in Hokkien dialect) located close to the middle of the island. Besotted by the eternal question “Does God look differently upon people who take a cab to the Temple compared to people who walk to it?”, we decided to err on the side of caution and walk six miles from our Hotel to the temple. It was a walk, which took us through most affluent sections of Penang (Mansions with 8 expensive cars parked in the front) to a tin-roofed houses of a common man. The humidity made us sweat approximately one bucket for every mile.

Kek Lok Si temple, though highly commercialized on lower levels, is a wonderful piece of traditional Chinese architecture built alongside a hill in ornate colors, which stand apart from its sorroundings. Construction started in 1890 and continues till this day around the 100 ft. statue of Kuan Yin (Goddess of Mercy), which comes from original Guanshiyin (Literally, observing the cries of the world).

After being reasonably sure that God was proud of us (just that day), we took a cab back! In a city full of cabs, what are the odds that the Cab driver who showed to pick us up from the Temple was same one who picked us up from the airport.

This night, we ate at famous hawker joints of green gurney drive. There are over hundred small stalls serving every possible tasty fare at cheapest possible price. And here I found a stall which makes mouthwatering asian dishes with a twist, they are all vegetarian. I had fried Tom Yam and Steve downed Laksa (a spicy prawn noodle soup)…..with some Tiger beer.

Day 5 (The day we wrapped up)

On one side, work was wrapping up and on the other side, the weighing machine in hotel room was indicating that there is something wrapping around my waist. We proceeded on to lunch at old town café and dinner at a pricey Indian restaurant Kashmir.

Day 6 (The day we couldn’t stop saying Thanks)

Our marvelous hosts had set up a whole new standard of hospitality. We were completely floored and we just couldn’t stop saying thanks.

As the plane lifted off the Pinang airport in the evening, I wistfully looked out of the window, and remembered the breathtaking landscape of this island. And among this landscape, resides Malaysia’s most important, most beautiful and most wonderful asset: It’s People.

Link to the Penang Pictorial Trip

Mounting Mount Shasta

With an utter disregard for advice and caution from gym trainers, medical community, insurance companies, well meaning family & friends and complete strangers, who have slammed on the brakes of their automobiles to offer us a ride home/nearest hospital, whenever they see us jogging (and I use the term jogging with a fairly wide interpretation of its meaning) on the sides of the road, Chris Awad and I continue to test the already seams-stretched boundaries of Clint Eastwood axiom: A Man has got to know his limitations!

Perhaps it was our famous learning disability or perhaps it was the power vested in me by that bottle of brand-less beverage I bought in India, we signed up for yet another Climb to Fight Breast Cancer.

PRE-PRE-PRE Climb
A profoundly philosophical internal dialog which took place in the wake of commitment already made.

Is it OK to ask for donations from the same donors, who donated generously the previous year?
Absolutely yes.

Is it OK to expect them to donate generously again?
Are you kidding me? Why shouldn’t I?

Is it OK if they start avoiding you?
They will never do that.

Is it OK to call them and remind them multiple times?
With kids and mortgages, they sure forget a lot. It is my solemn duty to remind them.

Is it OK to invoke HIS name in vain and make false promises in HIS name during fund-raising?
Of course yes. HE has forgiven me before for other minor and a few major infractions…..Hallelujah, Hallelujah.

Would you be grateful?
If they only knew how much


PRE-PRE Climb
Seeds of doubt about the standards of education in the state of New Jersey were sown in my mind back in 2010. In 2011, these seeds sprouted into a healthy looking plant in the “Rain Forest” of Olympic National Park. And plant grew into a tree in the yards of California State Capitol Building in Sacramento this year. Folks, I admit that English is not my primary language (in fact it is a distant third) but just as the Rain Forest is the Forest where it rains a lot, “Show Oranges” are just for show and not for eating. Chris Awad knows exactly how Show Oranges taste and how quickly to spit them out before your palate becomes permanently infected.

PS:
If you happen to be ever in Sacramento, make sure to visit a farmer’s market. You have no idea how much fruit can be bought for just five bucks…..from pretty Latinas, who will let you practice your Spanish on them absolutely gratis.

PPS:
The Gobernator Arnold Schwarzenegger’s portrait is still not done for corridors of state capitol. They are waiting for his muscle mass to decrease just enough so that they can fit him into the same state mandated standard portrait frame, where Ronald Reagan almost fell out of, during the hanging. Apparently size does matter.

PRE-Climb
Scientists will tell you that alcohol is the worse dehydrator which should be avoided before any high altitude climb. And yet, the liberal attitude with which extra large libations are consumed at any pre-climb eve gatherings is just another testimony to the sheer determination with which these folks try to dispel all scientific myths, including gravity. And every now and then science wins and this time it just whooped me.

But we must treat this as a learning opportunity (for others). First lesson of course is that one must imbibe responsibly. And second and more important lesson is not to mix different varieties of alcohol. These lessons are especially important for young folks, who have often mentioned to me that they have come to look up to me as an elder brother. The fact that they are putting more emphasis on “Elder” rather than Brother hasn’t gone un-noticed either. Little do they know that time is as much their enemy as it is mine.

In all, there were nineteen Hutch climbers this year on Mount Shasta. Team Goat, Team PPB (Powerful Pink Bunnies) and Team C-4. Together, we had raised over $100,000 for Breast cancer research before getting to this point.

Climb: Day 1 (June 29th)
Waking up with a blurred memory of previous night’s events is never easy but someone has to do it. Gear check took place at a lazy pace, bags were packed and it was time to head to the bunny flat trailhead. Perhaps you would like to know what it feels like to see other climbers merrily hiking their way to camp one with their 40+ lbs. pack, while you trudge along nursing the after-effects of pre-climb excesses. But I am not going to tell you. I want you to learn from your own experience. System flushing continued with pure fresh Shasta water.

On humanitarian grounds, Chris and I had a tent which was pitched at a safe distance away from rest of our group (Monica, Dave, Bob, Jim). Bean burritos for dinner were yummy. Sleep came in just a few short spurts. Otherwise just toss and turns.

Distance Covered: ~2 miles, Elevation gained: 1000 ft., Altitude: 7900 ft.

Climb: Day 2 (June 30th)
A late wake up, pack up and eat up. Last use of real facilities and second part of climb began. It is always hard traversing the rocky path in climbing boots. I feel like Frankenstein (with looks to match). But soon we were in the avalanche gulch and felt nice to be on snow. Deep breaths, step rest routine and we began to feel like real climbers. We made it to the next camp site in decent time. All covered in snow with a view so beautiful that one can never get tired of it. Tents were pitched, snacks were consumed and it was time for snow school. Walk up, walk down, self-arrest. A little rest, an early dinner of macaroni and cheese and it was time to hit the sack for next day starts at 2:00 AM.

Distance Covered: ~1.5 miles, Elevation gained: 1500 ft., Altitude: 9500 ft.

Climb: Day 3 (Summit Day, July 1st)
Guides came to wake us up at 2:00 AM but we were already awake. Infact, I did not sleep at all. Sleep or no sleep, it was time to get ready. It was really cold out there. A quick deposit in the brown bag, get dressed, put on harness, helmet and head lamp. Shove down the oatmeal, gulp down tea. Backpack felt so light now with just few essentials. At 3:00 AM in the morning, lamps on, poles in hand and it was time to go and climb a mountain.

Early morning hours on the steep slope, a mixture of rain, frozen rain and snow flakes came down. Wind made a few howling runs but we were told that it was just a squall. Everything calmed down when sun came up. It was a beautiful sight with multiple climbing teams making their way up to the Red banks. Crampons had to be taken out at close 11000 ft. and then came the rope. After Red banks, came the Short hill, which is not short at all. Infact, it was reasonably steep and about 1000 ft. of elevation. Then came the Misery hill. All the miserable jokes were told while climbing Misery hill (Q: How many Democrats are needed to screw a light bulb? A: Only one. Bill Clinton. He can screw everything including a light bulb). And then summit came into view and we got the first rush of success within reach. The view from this spot was incredibly beautiful. On the way to summit, there are small hot springs where John Muir once stopped by. Pervasive smell of H2S made Chris really confused and guilty conscious….”Not me, Not me man, Not this time” was uttered a few times. Another 250 ft. of elevation gain and we were home. The beauty of vistas from the top of Mount Shasta can not be described in words. If you ever develop an ability to step out of an airplane in mid-air and walk around, you might see something similar. It was about 11:00 AM. After basking in glory for some time, it was time to head down to base camp, pack up and head back to trail-head. It was a long day.

Distance Covered: ~7.5 miles, Elevation gained: 4700 ft., Elevation Lost: 7200 ft.


Conclusivo
In the end, all this is about people. People who gave us life. People who nurtured us. People who taught us how to wade through this maze called the world. People who influenced us. People we met at random in a strange country. People who made us laugh, when just a smile would have done it. People who are still here and people who will continue to look at me from their heavenly abodes with a raised eyebrow, until time comes for me to depart and take up my assigned duties outside the boundary walls of heaven.

And talking about people, I can’t help but be thankful to wonderful guides of Team C-4. One guide came in a large frame with a carefully concealed southern accent brought out at crucial moments. The other came in a compact, intelligent and comely package with a self-deprecating sense of humor (Q: What is the difference between mountain guide and saving bond certificate? A: Savings bond certificate eventually matures and becomes useful). It was no surprise that I had to finally learn the proper use of my large Butt from a woman, when glissading down 2500 ft. I was misguided but all I needed was a little Miss-guidance. And as if these lessons of such humility weren’t enough, our guides brought another quasi-guide, an extremely charming denizen of an always humble, hockey playing neighbor from north of the border.

On these adventures, there comes a time when your body’s fuel gauge seems to be at E and it seems that there is just enough left to take perhaps one more step. In such times, some people breathe in thin air and go another mile and redefine the meaning of will power. On Mount Shasta, I have had the privilege of huffing and puffing along with more than a few such uber-extraordinary people.

Click here to enjoy the pictorial trip.

Bunnies"R"Us

Last year, my old friend Sukhdeep Dhami visited us and noticed a bunny couple frolicking in the back yard. Frolicking has led to multiplication since then, just as we were told back in grade school minus the detailed explanation of mechanics. Interestingly, there seems to be five bunnies now in the backyard. Due to un-availability of a facility and lack of opportunity for close anatomical inspection, I have to rely solely on my keen powers of observation to disentangle the backyard bunny relation-ship matrix. There is burly and stern, un-mistakable Papa bunny, agile and cute-derriere mama bunny, two adorable baby bunnies and a mysterious visitor bunny. Visitor bunny’s size and shape is somewhat confounding, but his timings and movements evoke suspicion. He visits often when Papa bunny is out to a baseball game with baby bunnies. Am I being over-presumptuous? Why He for visitor bunny? Why not she? Could it be that mama bunny is exploring an alternative? Or perhaps my all too male human mind is clouded by the visual connotations evoked by the word Bunny. Let’s face it. Even the most academic of rabbit researchers, upon hearing the word bunny, push aside the technical publications and pull out their favorite Center-Fold from the bottom drawer, followed by a most reverential salute of gratitude to Hugh Heffner’s greatest creation. Animal right activist will be delighted to know that all too familiar bunny costume is the only non-service uniform to be granted a U.S. patent. “History” buffs will be glad to find it on display at both Smithsonian and Chicago historical society....section of the museum frequented by fathers and their male progeny. I try to curtail my drifting gossipy frontal lobe with a profound anthropological question: Do I really expect the social mores of bunny world to be any different from their human counterparts?

The question actually goes beyond anthropological interest. These bunnies have begun to settle down in backyards, as per the articles of Homestead Act of the United States. Unaware of the complex domestic political issue taking shape, they make a strategic dug out right next to the fire place exhaust, for that extra warmth needed for multiplication. My neighbors have already started building a wire fence and support for the fence solution is growing louder in my house too. I, on the other hand, couldn’t be more in-decisive. I am weighed down by a guilt burden. It is true that I paid for the place with crisp and stable US greenback (now that our love affair with Euro is over), but truth is that bunnies were here first. They just weren’t party to the 100+ pages of ingenious contract devised by a good real estate lawyer. But I am a losing minority in this debate. The “speaker of the house” of the house has started to clamor for fence solution.

“At least fence will keep them out”.

“True, but wouldn’t the fence keep us in”. I dispense my philosophy 101.

One’s view of the fence solution always depends on which side of the fence one really is. Native Indians are perhaps the only group in the recent history, which has had experience on both sides of fence. First they were fenced out and now they are fenced in. Either way has been a misfortune for them. Has the fences really worked as a solution? Now extinct and infamous German fence, Israel-Palestine fence, India-Bangladesh fence, US-Mexico fence and if you prefer a more dated example, the Great Fence of China. As Genghis Khan told me once, in a brief moment of levity.

“China very smart. Build fence. Keep Mongol out. Keep Tourist in”.

As the political debate drags on, I have an inkling that my ex-servicemen friends are beginning to work on the military solution to the problem with a silent nod of approval from the carnivore members of the house. Details of operation 'Hare Raiser' have been clandestinely drawn and are being kept under tight wraps with a leak here or there to test the public opinion.

As a short-lived Colorado summer comes on, my gardening activity, as always takes a feverish pace. Papa and mama bunny have been here for few years and we have come to an unspoken understanding of peaceful co-existence. I have often watched them carefully making their way through the gardening bed without disturbing my precious plants. They keep their distance, feed on some of my tomatoes and carrots in inclement weather but nothing more. But multiplication is worrisome. Baby bunnies were born here. As they chomp on my true green Scott’s grass, they don’t even make effort to run away, when I pass by. They consider my biped form an intruder. I wonder if they won’t be as considerate as their parents. In a few weeks from now, are they going to view my garden as a free salad bar? Perhaps invite their female friends for a Multiplication Rave? It is an uneasy truce, ready to fall apart at first signs of trouble.

As my friend and I sit in the backyard sipping our beer, he points to Papa bunny and starts an exploration of the opinion on military solution with a finely tuned subtlety, which is generally the hallmark of retired and active duty Army drill instructors.

“Satnam, I know you are a vegetarian. But have you ever tasted rabbit stew?”