I only had two complete days in George Town, and wished I’d booked a third, although to be honest, by the end of yesterday I was getting pretty tired of very hot and humid countries with little or no pavement for pedestrians.
I had not realised how much I took our pavements in England for granted. Having to constantly hop off into the road and then brave the traffic (not half as bad here as in Vietnam, but you’re still walking in a road battling traffic) becomes tiring, especially when you’re constantly having to figure out where you’re going.
The colonial architecture provides great inbuilt awnings ideal for sheltering from the rain and traffic while walking, but now people mainly park their motorbikes in them so you can’t walk the length of the street along them as I imagine perhaps you used to be able to:
All of this was not helped by the fact that, in the humidity (? it seemed to not be a problem after dark), my Maps Me app kept telling me I was facing the opposite way to the way I was actually facing. You have to keep walking in order for it to right itself, but of course then you often end up walking quite a way in the opposite direction.
Also, while I’m on the topic, someone who I’d like to give a stern talking to has put the hotel I was staying at on the map in the app in the wrong place entirely. It’s in the correct place, but there’s a second hotel apparently called exactly the same thing in a place about fifteen minutes’ walk away. (And I haven’t managed to work out how to change it or tell them about it.) At the end of a long day, when I’d already walked 6.5 miles sightseeing, and I realised I was in the wrong place (and walking along a motorway with no pavement in rush hour), I actually cried. It was the correct road, but the wrong side of it (as I had suspected; should’ve trusted my instincts), and quite a way away. There was nothing positive about this experience except that I realised I had reached the end of myself, and I could push myself no longer. Sometimes it’s good to know where your limits are, I guess.
If you see people aimlessly wandering around looking at their phones, have compassion on them, because it’s possible they’re not texting or social media addicts, but actually are just trying to work out where the heck they are.
On my wandering, I did get to see one of the jetties:
I made it back to the hotel finally, collapsed in the bar with a cold drink and then went and had a back neck and shoulder massage. Which was a Very Good Thing. I had been stiff all day.
Morning Bell posted on Facebook the other day this pic and quote:
I think it might be good to spend more time pondering the word “enough”. So much of our western culture seems to always be about “more”. (Bigger, faster, stronger…) But perhaps enough might be good? Or good enough, at least?
I’ve often noticed that contentment, which is certainly what I long for, creeps up unexpectedly, in moments when it seems clearer that there is enough for me, for those around me, at least. (Has contentment got something to do with “home”, too? Maybe there’s more to be thought about regarding the relationship between home and contentment?)
After all this I couldn’t face walking to the night market for dinner, so I settled for a South Indian place 5 minutes’ walk away and had a delicious dosa and mango lassi:
la perle 