Monkeyrockworld

Luckily for her, this time of the year is bringing a lot of work for Kit Yeng, meaning I have to spend more time by myself, trying to figure out what to do and settle down in Penang. Since Georgetown is definitely more happening than resting at her family’s place, I decided to spend my lonely nights in the city, and being these days quite unpredictable, I chose the cheapest option while looking for a more suitable, long term accommodation. That’s how I ended up in Georgetown Guesthouse, one of the many along Lebuh Love, probably the one with most character.

If you still have some decency, you’d probably steer away from this place as soon as you smell the air: it’s as old as the building, a pre war house, probably standing there without renovations for the past 150 years. It smells like old things, like the thick layers of dust covering the thin as cardboard walls separating rooms as small as prison cells, like the spiderwebs hanging from the ceiling. It’s full of noises, people coughing at night, old presences lurking in the shadows, like ghosts of things that have once been, and now are not anymore.

It’s run by two Indian men, very nice fellows, easy going. If you see pictures of its huge hall, it looks like a beautiful colonial building, with a very old staircase, still there after all of these years, crumbling walls full of history and charm, but if you walk in it, the charm will not really be there anymore. So, why did I decide to stay in this place, instead of looking for something else, some better options? The reason is simple: this place has character, vibe and the most interesting population of expats and travelers I saw in a long time.

Giorgio, again. I talked about him a coupe days ago but his ghost is still in the air. A colorful character, lost in his own street wisdom, parked in a tent pitched in the back of the hall… wherever else you saw a man sleeping in a tent inside of a guesthouse? Me, well, this is my first time, and I knew already this place had something special to it… it’s the mixture of human beings getting in and out of the door, the drama of getting a Thai visa in the right time, the talks of the Italian American preacher who’s trying to get a permanent resident visa for Thailand, the Indian owner falling asleep in front of a tv set blasting Bollywood movies 24/7 from a broken screen that glares a blue light all over the room, the night guardian sleeping on a thin mat of newspapers on the floor, the hole in the ground where the water from the tap gets collected, the Swiss man cooking noodles on a camping stove and speaking an incredible language made up of English, Italian and Spanish in a blender, or the number of Chinese men that we see every day, but we don’t know where they’re coming from.

This place has vibe, it’s like an expatriate version of a punk house. It’s so dodgey you wouldn’t believe how nicely you can work with your wi fi from every room, or sit outside and enjoy the night breeze and silence from the small veranda infested by geckos. And it’s cheap, and laid back, and ultimately has the best mats of all the guesthouses I slept in Georgetown. And when the Indian guy wants to go out to get more booze and cigarettes, he will ask you to sit there, and if somebody turns up, to tell him there are no free rooms even if they have almost three empty ones. It’s a place lost in time and space and every rule doesn’t apply to it… check in, check out, it’s all non existent crap.

And that’s where I want to be when all of my existence is at a stall, waiting for things to happen on this beautiful, chilled out island. If you come to Penang, please don’t come here, don’t ruin our secret… I had to tell you, but I am sure you are not made for it yet, it’s too much for you to handle, sorry about that.

(thanks to Fulvio for the pictures)