Penang, a first-timer's reflections...

I have travelled quite extensively across Asia over the years (usually in search of a life-changing dahl or naan), but my journey with Simon to his father’s home land of Penang was my first experience of Malaysia.

We touched down late on a Saturday (after what seemed like an eternity in an air-conditioned, cramped, aluminium cylinder), and stepped out of the airport into a wall of warmth, smells and almost oppressive humidity. There was a buzz in the air, instantly noticeable even through sleep deprivation and the glare of the arrivals terminal. Maybe it was the faint hum of the city in the background, maybe the chatter of tropical birds overhead (or possibly that tell-tale pricking of sweat that was to become a permanent feature of the stay).

As we wove our way in the back of a dilapidated taxi into the heart of Georgetown, past high rises and small shanty-like congregations, we could see the tropical hills rising silently over the city. It quickly became clear to me that there was something really quite magical about this little island. A realisation that was to be corroborated and reinforced over the next couple of weeks.

Though the obvious place to begin when reflecting on the magic of Penang would be the food (my God, the food!), I feel I would be doing somewhat of a disservice to the wonderful people of Malaysia. It doesn’t seem to matter if it was taxi drivers (who, FYI, are all obsessed with the Champions League. I have numerous suggestions to ‘pass onto’ Mourinho next time I see him…), street vendors, or extended family, you will be treated like a returning friend by all. The people of Penang radiate with such warmth and happiness it is impossible not to fall in love with them.

There was one taxi driver of note - Alex Chang - who, so excited to find I had not yet tried the local delicacy Durian, drove us miles across town out of the way in order to take me to his favourite Durian ice-cream shop. The pure fruit, famous for tasting somewhere between dirty feet and baby's vomit, is to be worked up to by all accounts. One must start with ice cream and once you can take it in it's sweetened, sanitised form you are ready to progress. I never graduated beyond ice-cream, and that's just fine with me. Fruit that tastes like baby vomit is one local delicacy I can live without, ta.

Their tolerance and acceptance of others is perhaps a reflection of the diverse make-up of the inhabitants of the island, a mecca for migrants, refugees and travellers over the ages. There are three main populations, the native Malay people, those of Chinese heritage (who largely migrated from the Hainan province), and an Indian population, all of whom have found a home here, helping built the Penang we know today.

This wonderful fusion of cultures and heritages is, in part, what makes the food of Penang famous across the world. We spent our days wandering from food court to hawker stall, desperate to try everything, pleading with the Gods to endow us with magical expanding bellies so we might have five lunches a day.

We ate nasi kandar in run-down cafes in Little India, sat on plastic chairs and slurping on freshly-squeezed orange juice.

We spent evenings not moving from food courts, slowly making our way around each individual hawker. Each had their own speciality, honed to perfection; Satay lovingly basted in peanut oil with stalks of lemongrass; sour mango coated in sweet soy and chilli; crisp crumbly roti canai; sweet refreshing ice kacang; sour and spicy broth of assam laksa. The list goes on.

We set our alarms for the crack of dawn so we could track down the freshest dim sum for breakfast. We devoured char sui pork on Chulia Street (and went back for not just seconds but for thirds and fourths!). We watched street vendors fry up plates of wan ton mee with the skill and dexterity that only a lifetime of practice could achieve.

We did, of course, intersperse all this eating with exploring and adventuring across the island. The thriving streets of Georgetown provided a base worthy of an art-house epic. The faded glory of the colonial architecture is like a backdrop made of a watercolour masterpiece. Shutters of every colour imaginable, the less recently painted bleached by the beating sun, line the small winding streets. Beautiful intricate tiles adorn walls and walkways and Chinese lanterns hang from arches, swinging in the breeze.

The streets heave with people and life, the air is thick with sticky heat and smell of incense, food cooking, (and that unmistakable underlying whiff of drains). As well as places to eat there are galleries, bars, shops selling fabric, spices, knock-off watches and elaborate furniture hand crafted out of wicker. From this artist’s paradise you can climb Penang Hill, travel to Feringhi beach in the north, visit temples, museums and historical houses.

Penang is a heady, wild and joyful mix of culture, flavour and history. A wonderful display of a true melting pot of people; a celebration simultaneously of diversity and of unification. It is the perfect example of a community born out of the fusion of its inhabitant’s diversities.