Chulia Street, or Lebuh Chulia, was the kind of place someone would write a song about. Who knows, maybe someday I will. This was where all the cheap hotels were -- from Chinese, to dirt cheap, to sewer cheap. This street looked like it was born old. But oh! it had personality.

Almost every bus on the island had a stop at this street. Of course, you had to practically jump out in front of one to get it to stop for you. Or you could go by trishaw (pictured right). They'll give you a tour around the city for an hourly rate of practically nothing. I took one just from the ferry to my hotel on my last night. I was too tired for the scenic route.

I liked the Chinese hotel I was in a lot. The frontmen were older and seemed conscious of safety and other things which are nice when you are a young woman travelling alone. When they couldn't get a taxi to drive me to the airport as early as I needed (most taxis don't start work until later), they gave me the standard fare and drove me there themselves.
On Penang, unlike other parts of Malaysia, the different religious/cultural identities are highly tolerant of each other. This is most evident on Chulia Street as it spans a width of China town, linking Little India with the Islamic Malays. The only negative things I heard were side spoken about the Chinese, primarily because they seem to own everything. But considering the fact that in other parts of Malaysia, there are extreme holy wars, I was very impressed.

All about Lek

It was in an empty cafe on Chulia Street that I met Lek, a tall and thin, aging Malaysian. He was the only other person in place. He was going to play guitar there that evening and asked me to come see the show after he found out that I can play a little. The cafe was crowded when I got there. Lek is a regular "One Man Guitar" and so he knows everybody. And he must have told them about me because when I walked in, everyone turned and hollered a welcoming, "Holly!" - no joke. It was like a strange episode from "Cheers." I took a seat by a man who turned out to be Lek's older brother, famed among his friends for playing the lead guerrilla in several hollywood b-flick action movies. One starred Chuck Norris though. He was also an extra in Anna and the King as it was filmed there. Lek sang freedom rock and folk songs that he learned to play from the radio as a teenager. He sounded like Tom Waits taken two octaves lower in a jumble of uncertain words. But believe it or not, it was good. Then all of a sudden, he was calling me to the stage. I wasn't expecting this, so he gave me two song's length to come up with a song we both knew . The Beatles were the best bet, so when he suggested "Let it be" I just said "sure." Afterall, the lyrics are in the back of all my students English books. I must have looked at them hundreds of times. Of course, I forgot them halfway through. But Lek was the kind of guy who just made you feel like you belonged there. So I just relaxed and started making up the words as we went. This was a mistake. The crowd liked the sudden burst of spontaneity and wouldn't let me leave until I did another song, with improvised lyrics of course. And I really wanted to leave. I was tired and I had to get up early the next morning. But I'm glad I didn't. After much convincing, Lek and I spun out a Chulia Street rendition of John Denver's "Leaving on a Jet Plane." Lek thought it was suitable since as I was leaving Penang the next day. Then I left the cafe and said goodbye to Lek.
It was so unbelievable that you probably think this is an extreme exaggeration. It's not. Life gives us crazy things sometimes, so we enjoy them while they are there, no matter how strange. I don't even have a picture. But I do know that on a small island in Maylasia, there is a little cafe where everybody really does knows my name.