At the Pulau Tikus wet market

Dragonfruit

  Our village, Pulau Tikus, may be small, but our market is famous.  People come from all over Penang to shop there, humble though it appears to be.  It's called a "wet market" because it has, well. . . .  wet stuff, like produce, fish and chicken--lots and lots of dead chickens!  Malaysian food life revolves around chicken. 


     I went to the market this morning with a visiting Japanese lady friend.  There was the usual stuff to see and photograph:  tropical fruits (dragonfruit, jack fruit, etc.),  veggies, flowers and fish.  I was greatly impressed when Minori knew the names of most of the fish she laid eyes on.  The only one I recognized was these little sharks.  It broke my heart to see them lying there dead, but least they still had their fins on! 


      So, anyway, we took lots of pictures and mingled with the locals, asking dumb questions that they politely answered.  Well, I asked silly questions while Minori went around identifying fish -- in English, which is not her first language!. 

Paper dresses--honest!

Paper shoes.  They look real, right?

For scootin' around upstairs

     And then we discovered the really cool thing -- the paper goods that Chinese people burn so their deceased relatives can use them in the afterworld.  I'd read about them, of course, but I'd never really seen them and then, there they were!  There were paper dresses -- one size fits all ghosts, evidently -- and shoes, some with high heels.  Paper high heels!  Sounds dangerous, but ghosts step lightly, I suppose.  

The spirits can keep themselves busy in heaven

Paper dentures & toothpaste

    There were paper cigars & cigarettes, iPads and iPhones.  And a couple of paper motorbikes.  But the topper, the cutest thing of all, was the set of false teeth--uppers and lowers, plus toothpaste to keep them sanitary.  Even in the afterworld, it's good to have fresh breath!

More Fish--but not edible ones!

     I've learned an important life lesson recently:  When you're in a new place and somebody wants to take you somewhere -- anywhere -- you just jump into the car and go!   You never know what you'll see or discover.  Recently my friend picked me up and said, "I need to go to the pet shop and get holiday fish food.  Do you want to go along?"  "Sure," I answered, and hopped in the car, wondering what kind of food fish eat on holidays. 


       As it turns out, "holiday fish food" means food you give your tropical fish pets while you, yourself are away on holiday.  It's compressed so it takes the fish a few days to get through it.  By then, presumably, you're back from your trip and you find that your fish are very hungry, but not yet dead of starvation.

     So, she took me to one of the most interesting and best-run places I've ever seen here in Penang.  It's the CTY Aquarium (named after the owner, I suppose, Chew Thean Yeang).  Evidently it's  the largest live fish shop in Southeast Asia.  It's actually a very well-equipped pet shop, but the fish are the star attractions.  They are everywhere!  And every tank has a "no photo taking" sign above it.  But how could a person resist?  Obviously, I didn't!

   There were all the usual little guppies and thing, but oh, so much more!  There were small rays and goggle-eyed goldfish.  There were "koi," of course, and they were much cheaper than I'd expected, based on Japanese prices.  In many cases, the green plants that go into the aquariums were more expensive than the fish themselves. 

     I was greatly impressed by the cleanliness and beautiful organization of this place, and by how well-stocked it was, too. They were very careful that people who were helping themselves to fish (to buy, not eat!) didn't use the same net in different tanks.  One aquarium, one net.  I was also amazed that they actually allowed people to choose their own fish and put them into their "buying buckets."  They'd never let you do that in Japan!

      Besides the masses of fish and all the excited kids and their dads around them, there were live animals, too.  The most interesting to me were the sugar gliders, sweet, cuddly little critters who were happily chomping away at live, wriggling worms.  They must be Japanese, who also sometimes like to eat food that's still wriggling on the tongue!


     One sad thing was the two raccoons that were in a small glass box with no water anywhere in sight.  My friend says they've been there since they were babies and the price has dropped, but still nobody has bought either one.  Who on earth would want to buy a raccoon as a pet in Malaysia?  And are they even allowed to import them into this country?  Why can't they at least give them some water to wash their food?    I was very surprised to see that in a shop that was otherwise amazingly clean, professional and well-run.
                                 
       But Malaysia isn't the only country that does this. I remember in a Tokyo pet shop seeing a meerkat, one of the most sociable animals in the world, kept in solitary confinement all his life.  How sad he was!  It was the time when Lion King was popular and, well, I guess they thought someone would pay their outrageous price just to have one.   All of this in the name of allowing people to have obscure animals as pets.  Oh, well -- it's better than eating them, I guess.  Or carrying them around.  Today I saw a young gal gal out and about carrying a snake around in a cat carrier.   How's that for weird?  

Fresh Fish, Part 2

The fisherman is the one in plaid

Whispering a bid for a lot of fish

         




























                                                                      When we left off last time, the fishing boats were pulling up to the shoreline and the fish was quickly sorted and scooped up into small lots on square plastic sheets and swiftly taken up to a concrete pavilion where prospective buyers were waiting.    The fishermen spread the plastic sheet out on the floor and waited a minute or two for the customers to make up their minds.  Then, the "whispered auction" began.  
        Someone would make an almost-invisible gesture and the fisherman would sidle up to him.  A whispered consultation would then take place, with the potential buyer holding up his hand to hide the words (actually, the price) he was muttering.  The seller would then go around the rest of the small circle, stopping whenever someone wanted to whisper a bid into his ear.  Once every interested party had had a chance to whisper a price, the fisherman would give a little nod to the successful bidder.  Then money would change hands and the bundle of fish would be scooped up.  The fish were dumped into the customer's plastic bag, and then it would happen all over again.  I was amazed at the huge wads of money that some buyers had in plain view.  I guess they were buying as wholesalers or middle men.

    The charming part of the whole thing was how informal it was, especially compared to the famous fish auctions at Tsukiji in Tokyo.  They're pretty businesslike and strict at the Japanese fish auction, even barring tourists from getting too close.  But at Kuala Mudah, it's casual and friendly.  There are housewives, kids, photo-snapping foreigners (us) and even some well-fed cats.  I was happy to respond a dozen times to the perpetual question, which is generally this:  Your country?

The Freshest of Fresh Fish -- Part 1

   Japan is all about fresh fish.  They pride themselves on it.  But this past weekend, here in Malaysia, I saw fish come out of the ocean and leave in the hands of buyers in less than an hour.  It was by far one of the most interesting of the outings organized by Spiral Synergy that I've joined. I was a part of a small but eager group of international expats. There must have been at least 3-4 languages being spoken in that van at any given moment. Most of us were motivated by the prospect of special photo ops as much as the thought of getting really fresh fish. In truth, it was a little too fresh for me!   I prefer my fish breaded or deep-fried, as opposed to flopping, clawing, writhing or otherwise dying in a plastic tub.  That's why Hubby prefers really good Japanese sushi or sashimi and I go for fish-and-chips, thank you!


         Anyway, we were whisked out of George Town, across the Penang Bridge and out to a little fishing village on the border between Penang and Kedah States.  It really was "the border," too. On one side of a small estuary was us; on the other were the folks of Kedah.  

      Starting around 10:00 a.m., the boats begin hitting the shore, zooming in quite quickly, one after another.  They're colorful and a bit bigger than you might imagine.  Immediately things start to happen.  No time is wasted between the boats arriving and getting those fish into the hands of the buyers,none at all!


         The fishermen start sorting the catch by type, flinging away any debris.  There are so many different types! There were grouper, big fat shrimp, manta rays, eel-like things, crabs and many more.  The one thing I didn't see was any kind of shellfish.    Maybe that's because this is net fishing, not trawling on the 
bottom where shellfish would be (I suppose.) But what do I know?  I was raised in America's Midwest, where most of us have never seen a fish still alive and breathing.

She wants fresh fish, she buys at boatside.

  

Beating the nets to knock off little fish

  

  While the sorting and selling is going on, men unfurl and beat the nets with sticks to knock the small fishies out of them so they won't stick, rot and stink.  Eager buyers, local women in headscarves and middle-man buyers with fistfuls of money, flock around to buy the fish directly off the boats.  And what happens to the rest?

I'll tell you about the really interesting part in the next blog post  (maybe tomorrow?)  -- coming soon to your very own computer!

Things That Make Me Smile

Looking for hungry schoolkid customers

   Well, the charms of Penang have helped me overcome the loneliness of being "suddenly single" now that Hubby is off working in Japan. It's no fun living alone when you're used to daily companionship.  But there are so many wonder-ful things about Malaysia and Penang, it's hard to stay sad for long. 
     
     Last week I was dragging myself forlornly back home, sans husband, through the Kuala Lumpur airport at 4:30 a.m.  Some Indian Malaysian fellow was just doing his job, but he somehow seemed to detect that I needed cheeringup.  He just chattered away at me politely and kindly as I approached, passed him and moved on.  It was silly, inconsequential greetings.  But he'll never know how his sweet early-morning words encouraged me and welcomed me back to Malaysia!


    Even after a year (almost) of living here in Penang, I'm still entranced every day by ordinary things I see around me.  For example, that blue mobile snack shop pictured here.  Underneath all the empty-calorie fried snacks there's a motorbike and driver somewhere.  He plies his route every day after school, looking for hungry kids to buy his junk food.  The bags sometimes drag on the ground if he corners too sharply, but he doesn't seem to care.  I need to be as carefree about things in my own life, I reckon.

Lookin' for love in a car park!

   And how could anyone stay sad when even a car is batting its eyelashes at you?  Could the driver have parked any closer to that pillar?


   Even my coffee made eye contact with me this morning!  It was daring me to drink it up, and I did!

  There's someone else who smiles at me when our paths cross.  It's our postman. He would put more smiles on my face if he occasionally had a letter to put into my mailbox, rather than a bill.  So, if you're a friend of mine who's reading this, how about writing me a letter?

Forlorn Early-Morning Musings

I'm returning rather desolately to Penang after having gone to Japan to help Hubby settle into his new job as a Japanese salaryman, complete with a uniform jacket and company dorm rooom. This should be a good thing, right? Having a job offered in these troubled economic times. Returning to Japan, where the fish is fresh, things are organized and the people are quiet and polite. Knowing that all things will be taken care of properly by the highly paternalistic Japanese society. Hubby thankfully has no language barrier to contend with--his Japanese is good and can only get better now that he'll be the only foreigner working in this company.

So, what's the problem, you may well ask. It's that I don't live THERE, I live HERE, and until a few days ago, so did he. Oh, the guilt of my being retired and dwelling in a lovely resort-style condominium in sunny Penang, while my long-suffering-but-not-self-pitying husband lives in the suburbs of Tokyo, It just isn't right!

Although we're both well acculturated to Japan, having lived there for so long, certain things still manage to surprise. . . . Like having to get the company's approval for Hubby to purchase a table and chair with our own money. Why? Because in the company "apartment" (which would fit nicely into our Penang living room), the main room has tatami-mat flooring. So, we weren't allowed to buy this cute little table and chair we saw because the company needs to determine whether those furnishings would damage the tatami. We offered to buy one of those plastic mats that you put under office chairs to protect it. No way! Not without permission from higher-ups. So Hubby had to squeeze all of his computers, plus the TV, plus his dining stuff onto a little low table the size of a postage stamp. If necessary, he'll learn to live with it, but I don't think I could. In my scheme of things, people live in the MIDDLE THIRD of the space in a room, except for basketball players, who live in the UPPER THIRD. However, in Japan, you may WORK in the middle third, but you LIVE in the LOWER THIRD, which is to say "down on the tatami."

Anyway, I was reassured when I got see to Hubby's new workplace in a rural town northwest of Tokyo. It has a whole lot going for it -- much more than I'd expected. There are big supermarkets, home centers, and such. Some of our favorite family restaurants are there, too. I could survive, even thrive, there if I should wind up living back in Japan sometime in the future. I guess you can take the kids out of Japan (for a while), but you can't take Japan out of the kids!

Chinese Clan Jetties Tour

God of Heaven in his finery

It's been a while since I posted anything  -- We've been "off-station," as they say when you've been out of Penang.  I guess that expression dates back to the days when there were plantations, or "stations" that people lived on.  Back in Guam, we used to say "off-island."  In the States we'd say "out of town."  But, I digress. . . . back to the Chinese clan jetties tour I want to write about (belatedly).


   A while back, the Chinese God of Heaven had his annual birthday.  The Chinese celebrate it with LOTS of food offerings, huge rods of incense, and noisy fireworks.  The ones in Penang who observe it the most fervently are the Chinese folks who live in clam groups on six jetties that extend into the sea.  (There used to be twelve of them, but unfortunately, developers have  pulled down six of them in an effort to make Penang look like Singapore, Hong Kong and such places that all look the same.)  


    Each jetty has a whole family group, a clan, living on it, and they all share the same name.  So, there's the Lim Jetty, the Chew Jetty and so on.  As I understand it, originally the clans were very poor Chinese people who came to Penang to work and had no money to buy land. So, they built their dwellings on piers extending into the sea.  Now they're a big tourist attraction  and they're very worth seeing.  So, when the God of Heaven's birthday celebration was taking place one night on the jetties, I went along to see what it was all about.  

What I'd expected to see

    I'd been expecting really humble homes, almost like shacks.  This was what I thought I'd see:

Inside a Clan Jetty Home

   

Front Gate of a Clan Jetty Home

      But wow -- I was so wrong!  These structures are real homes, complete with concrete floors and wood on top of it, long hallways with various rooms along them.  One even had a  fancy metal, lockable  gate to provide privacy or at least security.  Of course they don't have cars or car parking there, but they do have bicycle & motorcycle parking lots right here on the pier extending out in the water.  And there's garbage pick-up, too.  There's a temple at both ends of each jetty to keep evil spirits from entering by land or by sea.  They're like a little neighborhoods within a city.

    They say that each clan and its jetty has a different character.  I only saw two of them, but I think it must be true.  The first one I visited was full of hustle and bustle and enterprise.  Almost every home had someone outside selling something or other.  It seemed like a very prosperous, businesslike place.  The second one was quite different.  It was calm and peaceful, with people greeting our little group, asking where we were from and just being friendly.  Those families were very busy setting out food offerings for the god in front of their homes.  On the first jetty, the folks were taking their food to a huge table set up on the land in front of the jetties.  Different strokes for different folks, I guess!

    There were many food items on the offering tables.  The fruits, especially oranges, had a red ribbon wrapped around each piece to indicate that they were meant as a gift to the God of Heaven.  (Though the people evidently eat the offerings themselves later on.)  Many families had laid out a whole roast pig.  Others had put out plates of the "three proteins" (pork, duck and chicken).  I've heard that the chicken and ducks are intact because having the head, tail and feet still on symbolizes completeness.  


 There was much, much more to tell about, but it'll have to wait until next year, I'm afraid.  There's just so much multi-cultural diversity in Malaysia, I think I'll never be able to learn it all.  But I'm going to try!