I seem to have gotten a little ahead of myself here, so I’m jumping back, heading back in time to a week or so ago, to our last full day in Hanoi.

Mum was working, so Felix and I decided to do the last thing on our list, wander around the French Quarter. Here, the narrow busy tangle of streets that is the old quarter open out onto wide, straight tree lined boulevards, dotted with grand buildings.

Felix said “Oh, it looks like it was made from pure communism”.

We came across a gaggle of hiphop dancers, doing their thing for the camera. Too cool for school.

It is difficult to leave, everywhere I look seems to be filled with delicious possibility, but this one last wander around the town was a little bit boring, to be honest.

Writing this from steamy, relaxed Penang, it is difficult to put myself back in cold, busting Hanoi. I love it here, but I miss it there, though it is nice not being hassled constantly by touts, and being able to cross the road with ease, and the food here is amazing. That is all.

(Hi Mum!)

Malaysia is the only truly multicultural place that I have visited. There are so many different languages, faces, beliefs, and customs here, that sometimes I get confused as to which country I am actually visiting.

We wandered around Little India, turned down offers of bollywood DVD’s, passed piles of Indian sweets and ate delicious tandoori chicken.

Even the alleycats fit in.

It is Sunday morning, and I am ready to eat. Maybe Kaya bread, egg and Kopi, maybe yum cha with chinese tea, or maybe Roti Canai. Or maybe all of the above.

Penang is friendly and beautiful. But maybe a little too friendly. An old man started to talk to us as we were wandering around today. He perched on his plastic chair and told us stories of his life, and english language riddles (can you form a sentence with 3 instances of because in a row? how about 5 and’s?) all the while dealing drugs to various vagabonds that wandered up.

People here seem more accepting and open than in Vietnam. Or maybe they just aren’t shocked as easily. Felix and I have spent the last few weeks being stared at, which can get a bit confronting. The customs official that stamped me into Malaysia blushed into her hijab and smiled ‘I like your hair!’. An older Indian woman behind a hotel desk gave me a big smile and said ‘You are so cute!’, even after we passed up her expensive room with a funny smell.

Felix was right when he said that people here are friendly. In a hawker market last night a cook stepped aside and took the time to explain his Bak Kut Teh stall to me (which i presently bought and was slightly disappointed by). But the food here. Oh! In search of coffee we stopped into a traveller’s cafe this morning, and had a very mediocre breakfast. Less than an hour later we were sitting in an Indian restaurant eating the most delicious roti canai I have ever tasted (for 0.80 Ringitts, $0.30AU).

The weather is cooling down now, so it is time to venture out again. If I come back the size of a house, Penang is to blame.

It seems an age ago that we ‘planned’ this holiday. I use planned in the loosest possible way, really meaning ‘paid for’ this holiday. We had no real plans, just an idea to hang out in Malaysia after Vietnam.

So yesterday we arrived, and did the hardest travelling we have done in a while. Three countries in one day. From Hanoi to Singapore, then on public transport to Johor Bahru in Malaysia. It was after 9pm when we arrived. We found an overpriced, noisy hotel and then searched for some food.

There was a hawker market tucked into the alleyways behind our hotel, some of the stalls were closing but others, like the noodle man we ate from, were still doing a roaring trade, even at 10pm. We ended up sharing some delicious char kway teow and having a conversation with our Malaysian table mate.

People seem to want to talk to us today, a lady on the train wants to know why we are going to Penang, she thinks that we should be going to Phuket instead, and if we are going to Penang, we should have booked a package deal from an agent in Singapore. Our hotel man keeps referring to his children as his students. Our dinner table mate is en route from Sarawak to Taipei to spend Chinese New Year with his wife. He says that the sreet food in Taipei is much better than Johor Bahru.

Right now we are relaxing, getting it together and deciding how to proceed. Waiting for the city to temperature to cool a little so we can go exploring.

Mum lives in a big airy house on a corner. It is French/Vietnamese combination of a house. Two large rooms on each of the three floors, with an amazing terrace at the top. With high ceilings it is solid and comfortable, though the tiled floors are cold and it’s the height of winter right now.

view out my bathroom window.

Sapodilla tree, out my bathroom window.

We wake up to roosters crowing, dogs barking and the occasional beeping motorbike. Sometimes we hear the opera singing neighbour practicing scales (actually, I hear that right now). But mostly I sleep through all of that. Actually, occasionally a bike will stop nearby, sounding like Dad’s farm bike, and for a moment I will be back in my old bedroom on the farm. That spell is quickly broken by a loud conversation in Vietnamese, or the phone ringing, but I can’t communicate with the caller because I don’t understand.

neighbours.

I really like it here, I just wish I understood what was going on.

Mum bought me a balloon, which we tied to the end of our bed. It is deflating now, and no longer floats, but it is time for us to go, anyway. We leave for Singapore and then Johor Bahru in a few hours, the hard travelling to new places is about to begin.

These flowers bloomed while we were in Ho Chi Minh City. I feel as though we have been here for ever and just a minute constantly. Early on in our trip I was bored, wishing that we were somewhere else. Now, I don’t want to leave. There are new, delicious things to eat at every turn and I want to taste them all. But I am ok with leaving, I will miss Mum, but at least I will be excited to return.