Penang has always fascinated me with its blend of old and new: a historic trading port, a UNESCO World Heritage city, a thriving centre of commerce and industry, and a home to many cultures, traditions and flavours that have come together over generations. However, Penang is more than its landmarks and famous dishes. Its soul can be found in the people I meet, the stories I hear and the memories shared along the way. This is my journey through Penang and beyond.
At the Church of the Assumption, nestled amidst the bustling streets of George Town, the hearts of Louis Michael Martin and Emily Elizabeth Surin became forever entwined. Their love story found its new beginning on 7 August 1926, when Rev. Fr. P. Lerond officiated their marriage. The church would have looked somewhat different then from the one we see today, as it underwent a major renovation in 1928, when two wings were added.
The score of "Untuk Negeri Kita" by Awaluddin Zainal Alam.
For more than half a century, the state anthem, "Untuk Negeri Kita" (“For Our State”), has been more than just a ceremonial tune. For me, it was the song that opened every school assembly at La Salle Primary School and later echoed through the colonial hallways of St. Xavier's Institution during my secondary years. We sang it with pride, unaware of the layered history behind its creation.
George Town, the vibrant heart of Penang, is home to one of the most diverse religious communities in Malaysia. Here, places of worship belonging to different faiths stand side by side, each with its own distinctive architecture and history, serving generations of believers.
Every year, as the seventh lunar month approaches, the streets of George Town take on an otherworldly character. For a time, the city seems to belong not only to the living, but also to the "hungry ghosts" said to descend from the underworld in search of food, offerings and perhaps a little earthly attention. Known locally as Phor Thor, the Hungry Ghost Festival is far more than a single day of ritual or remembrance. Its observances unfold throughout the seventh lunar month, weaving their way through the communities of Penang and across Malaysia, and into neighbouring Singapore and Phuket, where Chinese traditions have likewise taken root. It is a season when the veil between this world and the next seems, if only for a while, remarkably thin.
On most afternoons along Campbell Street, a queue often snakes into a pre-war Straits Eclectic shophouse. In Penang, where people are notoriously discerning about food, queues usually mean one of two things: hype or the real deal. Hema Hema, established in 2022, has been around long enough for reputation to settle—and in this case, it feels like the latter.
Growing up in Ayer Itam in the 1970s was like being part of a celebration that never truly ended. The wet market was the heart of our lives, a place where food was not only sold but also shared, improvised and made personal. We carried our own tiffin carriers, sometimes even our own eggs, to hand over to the char koay kak lady or to Pak Dollah, the mee goreng man. They accepted them without question, as if it had always been the way things were done. Ah Heng, the rojak man, set up his cart just outside my house. I can still picture him skewering green mango halves with a lidi, topping them in thick rojak sauce and crushed peanuts—a truly scrumptious snack. His bangkwang slices, prepared in the same way, were another favourite of mine, cool and crunchy against the richness of the rojak sauce. In time, Ah Heng moved from rojak to koay teow th'ng. I thought I would miss the old flavours, but his bowls of noodles soon became their own kind of comfort. Minced pork, tender slices of meat, liver and fish balls where everything came together in a broth that warmed you from the inside out. And always, there was the finishing touch of bak yu phok (fried lard) and spring onions.
Negaraku
Tanah tumpahnya darahku
Rakyat hidup, bersatu dan maju
Rahmat bahgia, Tuhan kurniakan
Raja kita selamat bertakhta
Rahmat bahgia, Tuhan kurniakan
Raja kita selamat bertakhta
Let us take a moment to reflect on the name of Malaysia’s national flower, Hibiscus rosa-sinensis. The word “hibiscus” has its roots in ancient Greece, derived from the Greek hibiskos. The name was recorded by the physician Pedanius Dioscorides (c. 40–90 AD) for a mallow plant now generally identified as marsh mallow, Althaea officinalis. Dioscorides described the plant in his celebrated "De Materia Medica", a five-volume work on medicinal plants and substances that became one of the most influential texts on herbal medicine in the ancient world.
On Soo Hong Lane, one of George Town's narrowest heritage lanes, stands Gilda, a modern neo-bistro that has captured the hearts of diners with its honest cooking and warm hospitality. After spending an evening there, I realised that the true charm of Gilda goes beyond its striking setting and thoughtfully crafted menu. It is found in the people behind it.
I have always stayed away from horror stories, particularly those that announce their intentions with blood and gore splashed across the cover. We are told never to judge a book by its cover. However, after more than three decades as an art director, I have always believed that a cover has a responsibility. It must set the tone, stir curiosity and, ultimately, invite the reader in.
One of the most fascinating things that struck me when I was in Japan in the autumn of 2012 had to be its extraordinary dessert culture. In Nara, my family and I witnessed Nakatanidou showcasing the ancient art of mochi pounding, where skilled artisans rhythmically transformed steaming glutinous rice into soft, delicate confections with astonishing speed and precision. Watching the craftsmen work was mesmerising, a beautiful reminder that in Japan, desserts are often deeply intertwined with tradition, craftsmanship, and theatre.
Wat Buppharam may not appear on every traveller’s must-see list in Penang, but those who step into its tranquil embrace are often rewarded with sacred and unexpected discoveries. Can a silent statue whisper the truth of your wishes? Within its shrine hall rests a humble, one-foot-tall figure known as the “Lifting Buddha”, a sacred icon believed to be able to reveal just that!