Birthday Prayer

Thank you for being alive. Thank you for living such a rich life. Thank you for experiencing so much to be grateful for. Thank you for the chance to express myself. Thank you for this voice, for this music, for this rhythm. Thank you for this heartbeat.

Thank you plants. Thank you grass and flowers and herbs and trees. Thank you coconuts. Thank you cats and dogs. Thank you streets. Thank you street art. Thank you ocean. Thank you beach. Thank you for the ships and the fish and the chips. Thank you for boats and corals and reefs. Thank you for the waves. Thank you.

Thank you airplanes. Thank you for the opportunity to travel. Thank you eyes. Thank you ears. Thank you colors and forms. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you family. Thank you Buddha Dhamma Sangha. Thank you nature. Thank you breath. Thank you body, thank you mind. Thank you Jesus, Mohammed, Gandhi. Thank you. Thank you forest. Thank you spirit. Thank you ancestors. Thank you monkeys. Thank you relatives. Thank you evolution. Thank you women and men of the past. Thank you love.

Thank you father. Thank you for raising me, admonishing me, hugging me, loving me. Thank you for putting more than you had into a place called home and into your beloved family. Thank you for being one of the lost loved ones. Thank you for showing me what to avoid: stress, meat, cigarettes. Thank you for excessively pouring out your heart so that it short-circuited prematurely. Thank you papa. Thank you.

Thank you mother. Thank you for a zillion little and big things. Thank you so much I don’t even know where to start. Thank you for being a continuous phoenix out of ashes. Thank you for being my living example of ‘Never give up’. Thank you for teaching me and supporting me in whatever I do. Thank you for inspiring me and encouraging me to trust in myself and go my way wherever it may lead. Thank you.

Thank you brother. Thank you for being the man you are. Thank you for your gentle winks and not-so-gentle hints. Thank you for your witty self-irony, your Roman-ness. Thank you for traveling with me. Thank you for welcoming me whenever I don’t know where else to go. Thank you for continually opening up worlds of music, technology, and consciousness for me. Thank you for your inebriated exuberance and your vows of sobriety. Thank you for your awareness and expression of our togetherness in the struggle to deal with our heritage and make sense of our family karma. I see you and I see you see me. Thank you.

Thank you unborn sister for showing me how precious life is. Thank you for acting as a guiding light to use my limited time on earth wisely. Thank you for being a constant reminder not to take this living, breathing shell for granted. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you.

With tears in my eyes I say thank you. With joy in my chest I say thank you. With palms together I say thank you. Thank you.

Thank you for abundance. For health. For a stable mind.

Thank you for being able to work with my hands. Thank you for creation. Thank you God. Thank you work. Thank you sleep. Thank you. Thank you change. Thank you seasons. Thank you spring summer autumn winter. Thank you hot and wet season. Thank you noise. Thank you silence. Thank you animals. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you for gratitude. Thank you for being able to say thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you for the fresh air. Thank you water! Thank you for the heat. Thank you teeth. Thank you dentists and doctors and hospitals.

Thank you tongue. Thank you tastes and flavors. Thank you food. Thank you nose. Thank you for being able to smell and taste! Thank you. Thank you clothes. Thank you umbrella. Thank you house. Thank you bed. Thank you blanket and pillow. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you fingers. Thank you smartphone. Thank you internet. Thank you network connection. Thank you backpack. Thank you computers and books and games. Thank you. Thank you entertainment. Thank you boredom. Thank you.

Thank you minivan. Thank you bus, train, plane, elephant. Thank you. Thank you feet. Thank you muscles and sinews and tendons and ligaments.

Thank you.

Thank you for being human. Thank you planet. Thank you earth. Thank you rain and sun and moon. Thank you.

Thank you pain. Thank you separation. Thank you lessons on the way. Thank you wisdom. Thank you ignorance. Thank you lotus blossom.

Thank you fear and greed. Thank you. Thank you for showing me what I need and what I don’t need. Thank you brain. Thank you heart. Thank you hara. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you time. Thank you space. Thank you for existence. Thank you for being born. Thank you impermanence. Thank you death. Thank you. Thank you beginnings and endings. Thank you for letting go. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you childhood. Thank you youth. Thank you adolescence. Thank you maturity. Thank you old age. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you new generation. Thank you children. Thank you parents. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you patience. Thank you for laughter and smiles and … thank you. Thank you. Thank you for bicycles. Thank you legs. Thank you arms. Thank you. Thank you coordination. Thank you confidence. Thank you companion. Thank you loneliness.

Thank you for seeing me.

Thank you for reading this.

Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you! 😊💓

Malaysia, Seremban

Felidae of Lavender Heights

I walked the streets without purpose.

Cats approached me with style, fervor, licentiousness. You know how they are if you let ’em 😉

Different cats, different temperaments. Here is a gallery of them smart street kitties yo. Named according to their perceived characteristics. I came across one of them twice. If you pay attention, you notice a familiar face at the end.

Enjoy the show. I sure did.

Kai (wordy) and Gemoi (silent), Fish enthusiasts

“Well, you know my philosophy when it comes to cats, babies, and apologies…… you gotta let ’em come to you.“

Ted Lasso

Sooo, did you notice which cat I came across twice today? Mmm? Name? Let me know in the comments section, please.

Also tell me if you like meaningless posts like this one (and why you like meaningless things at all). If so, I got another reason to wander the streets aimlessly more often.

Not that I needed it for the clicks, of course.

But once you get used to a serious cat addiction, the tendency is to push it as far as you can.

Ko Payam, Sharing, Thailand

Transitions: Solo traveller meets friends and rejoices

A Note on my Experience of Writing

There are periods of rest and recreation. Then there are times of creative output.

Sometimes I need to contemplate, reflect, consolidate. And then I come back to write, formulate, articulate.

There are times to be active, up n about. And there are times to fall asleep and dream.

Mæo dtooa-lek (‘cat unit small’) at Sweet Kitchen

I have been on Ko Phayam for ten days. Feels like a month. It really does. Like, half a million events seem to have taken place. I have talked to some of my friends who I have met last year on this island. They share that sentiment… that sense of time expansion after tuning in to Phayam vibes.

So much has happened, and I am only able to tell some of it. Life is complex, and a day or a night can be enough to fill volumes. Sometimes it seems certain human experiences can’t be conveyed by words. Some aspects can be highlighted, sure. The essential is better left to imagination.

I think that’s what distinguishes an artist’s great literary work from an amateur’s attempt to create ‘content’- the amount of trust the author puts into the reader’s capability to imagine what can’t be expressed.

Apparently, whatever I have to say about my experience won’t do it justice. And yet, I can’t resort to the oft-cited weakness of written words and leave it at that, can I?

Sayadaw U Jotika points out in Snow in the summer:

‘I don’t like people thinking of me being a certain type of person which i really am not. But that is inevitable. Everybody in the world is misunderstood. […]

– a couple of pages later

‘To accept the inevitable is very important for peace of mind.’

Border crossing

Having crossed the Malaysian-Thailand border a week ago I first go to Surat Thani. No traffic at all at the border. No people at the counter. super chill.

60 days on arrival and a ‘happy birthday’ from the guy stamping my passport at the counter. TQ!

In spite of all the smoothness of a car-free border crossing, the Chinaman who also left Penang comes along. Tries to rush me (‘I just want to help you!’… sic!) to fill out the digital arrival card. It’s just the two of us and we’re done in ten minutes. Still, that is way too long for a stressed out guy. He doesn’t wanna wait just cuz I was not well-prepared digitally. I understand he simply wants to make the best of his early retirement. I feel a bit of resentment but mostly compassion with this poor soul. He has worked all his life but that’s over. According to him, it’s all about him now. ‘You know, me me ME. Finally!’

Oh, man, I think to myself, remembering Damian Marley, ya been in2deep.

Aaaanyway. . .

Birthday Ride lah from Penang to Hatyai fuyoooo

Whenever I reflect and keep protocol there is a price to pay. That price of protocol lies in not staying and watching scenes, landscapes and views but recording, taking photos, commenting them.

The idea is that this will be a beautiful addition to my travel blog. You think this an incentive and a bonus? Well, for me this is a price I pay. Let me ask you a question.

Have ever stood still in the jungle listening for 5 minutes fully aware that no device can record your experience of here and now? IYKYK.

Sometimes it dawns on me that as much as I love writing… it can also be something that keeps me from immersive adventure. Put another way: when there is no thought about selfie and no chance for memory picture to post online later… that’s when you are sure you enjoy yourself tremendously!

Change of pace, lack of peace

Story continues. World changing. Fast. So are people. We feel it everywhere. Looking for brief respite, we hasten to next… errrmm, yoga class! We wanna eat well, sleep well. Wanna relax so badly. Less words. No space for others, no time for articles. More symbols. Less reading. Simple, please. And still, we hardly ever take a minute of sitting still without taking celly into hand watching screen til late. Listening to something on tiktok, insta, fb, yt… we call it vacation – vacation from what?

Maybe it’s something else.

Escaping boredom. Maybe that’s what this is about. Escaping loneliness and meaninglessness. Filling up time with sense stimulation and second-hand emotions. Becoming another victim of eye-catching hijacking Attention Inc.

I saw this happening when I was traveling in my 30s, too. But I used to be more idealistic and ‘buddhistic’, then. Vegan lifestyle. Monastery stay-ins. Retreats. These days I tend to be more practical and comfortable. I travel differently. E.g. I take a scooter instead of free shuttle in Penang. I book accommodation in advance instead of arriving and hoping for cheap or free place to stay. I stay at a town or on an island for weeks instead of days before moving on. I listen more. Talk less. (Okay, maybe the last statement is not true every day)

Chihiro at the market

In the movie Spirited Away, the young girl Chihiro sees her parents filling their bellies before they are turned into pigs. Like hungry ghosts they can’t get enough unil they change to a more appropriate form to indulge in their gluttony.

Now I don’t wanna be a party pooper. And I know I am part of the problem. It’s just… as Ko Phayam gets increasingly crowded I sometimes think of my arrival in Surat Thani.

It was on my birthday. About a week ago.

Thai folk at the night market looking at me with sad eyes. Sitting or standing behind their food stalls with exhausted features. Categorizing me as just another farang here.

In Penang, on the other hand, I was used to being part of an extended family of sorts. The smell of sandalwood, Indian food, and durian pervading the streets is replaced in Surat Thani by a rancid odor of burnt meat, sweat, and garbage turning sour in the heat.

Gritty greedy tourism writ large. Local peeps worn out by us visitors. Greed and deception. Scamming and corruption creeping in. Fake smiles. Lures. Traps. Spreading across the country in the seemingly inevitable process of capitalistic neocolonialism.

maybe it’s just me. maybe I’m tired and hungry.

A phone call with my brother and mother helps clear some clouds. The next morning the world seems like a different place already.

After breakfast I stroll around the town, share some watermelon with staff and guests. When I come across a temple yard I take a seat inside and breathe deeply. Like now.

what else could I do?

Oh… a friendly monk brings me a bottle of h2o 🙂

Kawp khun kap 🙏

Ko Payam, Surat Thani, Thailand

Ranong: Scooter Ride, Hot Spring, Kra Buri NP

I left Surat Thani after one night in dorm with lovely strangers at 2Street Hostel near Tapi River. In the morning of my departure day I got a thai SIM card. Went to the bus station to get a ticket to Ranong for 200 baht. Then took a minivan and four hours later arrived at Ranong.

While we are on the way to Ranong I read about Hara and listen to music. Then, walking from the bus station in the direction of my hostel.. after three minutes I come across a red Honda ADV350.

Same color same model I have at home in Vienna.

I check in at a very clean, comfortable, stylish place called A Day Inn Ranong. Highly recommend!

Buying a Honda in Thailand

Next day I buy a scooter. When I get there i am a stranger speaking broken Thai.

Fortunately, with the help of Khun Lek from Rabbit Bungalows (Ko Phayam) I turn into a welcome guest and customer. Eventually, I buy a 2nd hand Honda Click125 for 24,500 baht. Some things need to be fixed before I buy – mineral oil for front brake, back light, steer handle grip, new battery… in the end, everyone happy.

Once I go to a gas station to fill up the tank the display starts blinking, and i go back to the scooter shop. When the mechanics come back from lunch break, they fix the broken floater as well.

As soon as I am off with my newly bought mo-tah-sai of course I have to ride it for some hours. So I go north to Kraburi National Park. Then head south again along the coast. Several Myanmar/Thai inhabited villages. Seaport Ranong. It’s just nice to ride along and feel the wind.

Taken during a stroll thru Wat Suwan Khiri Wihan

Raksa Warin Hot Spring

Ferry to Ko Phayam

Since the previous day there were several things to be fixed before I buy the Honda scooter, i missed the ferry at 11 am. Turned out to be beneficial since I spent the day in Ranong exploring National Park, waterfall and hot spring.

Getting up early the next day I ride to the ferry which leaves at 9am heading to Ko Phayam Pier. I am about to meet my dear friends again. Life is good.

Malaysia, Penang, Sharing

Bodhi Heart Sanctuary, revisited

By now I have properly lost count of weekdays. Whether it’s Sunday or Wednesday… who knows. For me, it’s a reliable sign that I’m thoroughly enjoying myself. Yes, i am on my own. That also brings with it a lot of freedom. Lots of opportunities. Easy connection. Many of them just casual, of course. But some of them… quite deep and reaffirming. Encouraging. Time will tell how long these friendships last.

Come to think of it… in this context I remember a thin book by Jiddu Krishnamurti titled On Love and Loneliness. I hereby highly recommend you read it. And listen to Lauge & Baba Gnohm Tribute mix by Bumani while you’re at it. Now go ahead and open another tab – or don’t get distracted and just read on. Your choice, my dear friend. Just saying. It’s also exceptionally good electronic DJ set to listen to while reading this blog. i am listening to it while writing this. I am one hour into the set lah. As your attorney i advise you start at 1:00:00. Now get those headphones bruh. Just don’t forget to get your hands on Jay Kay’s booklet mentioned above.

Like hiking Penang Hill and checking out the Botanical Gardens again, I also visited the place where I stayed during my last sojourn in Penang.

It is always a somewhat nostalgic and euphoric feeling to revisit places. Places never stay the same. Personnel changes. Vegetation grows. Buildings get erected, removed, or renewed. And obviously, I myself change as well.

Another thing is different. There is the option to stay as a volunteer, yes. But it is no longer what it used to be. In addition to helping out as a volunteer, you’re expected to give a donation at the end of your stay. A bit weird but that’s the way it seems to run now at the Bodhi Heart Sanctuary (BHS).

As an ordained monk, I could stay in a kuti at the foot of Mount Erskine and do a self retreat. But it looks like i have to go to Suan Mokkh for that.

Bodhi Heart Sanctuary has visibly grown. It is more refined and more sophisticated. It is now even better equipped to welcome meditation teachers of different traditions. It also welcomes groups of newcomers as well as seasoned practitioners.

I turn left and I see a single zafu. Goes without saying I take it as an invitation to sit in silence for a while at the zen garden.

This non-doing – *fa piu quello che sembra che non faccia niente* – often grants a **clear view** of what i *want* but *not really need*.

Along with this comes a felt sense of deep appreciation for what I already have. Maybe appreciation comes first, though. And only then the self-sufficiency part? Or maybe both arise together. Yeah, that’s more like it: Itapaccayata-paticca-samuppada. The teaching of dependent co-origination makes the age-old hen-or-egg question obsolete.

I also spot a monitor lizard during my stroll. **Beware!** But hey, *actually*, I am much more afraid of humans than of lizards. In terms of unpredictability, it’s sometimes hard to tell the difference.

I remember how this area looked like 8 years ago. How refreshing to see BHS keeps on keeping on.

Much of the charm of this place derives from how nature is integrated into structure of buildings, i.e. how natural surroundings and human settlement intermingle and organically grow into one another, like an interim zone

The Tibetan stupa on top of the hill at BHS. I remember being up here celebrating New year, I think it was 2014

Ti Tsang Wang Pusa. This statue as well as the nearby Sima Hall are relatively recent (built within the last five to ten years). I see them for the first time.

Alright. After some time dwelling, resting, reading, meditating… cuz that’s what’s appropriate here at Bodhi ❤… I go to the office to talk with Leonard once more about a potential stay next time I’m in Penang. Next i hop on my scooter to ride back to Georgetown.

Enjoying the ride. Reminiscing on times gone. Looking forward to what the future holds. Remembering Ajahn Sumedho:

The past is history.
The future a mystery.
Now is the knowing.

I see the ocean to the left. I pull over. I stop at Gurney Walk…

… and then I watch the sun disappear on the horizon with the lights coming on one by one until the sky is illuminated once again by an artificial layer of brightness reflecting the ocean’s color.

Plus, those two buildings on the left side are pretty cool.

The evening breeze is, too.

Malaysia, Penang

George Town’s Little India

Heading north, but not yet

Time passes quickly when you having a ball. Been staying in Penang since December 19, and now my b-day – or continuation day, as Thich Nhat Hanh calls it – is coming up already.

I am sure I’ve had the same thought-feeling a dozen times or more when traveling. And yet, the pain of leaving stays the same. Intense recognition of that persistent fact of impermanence. Now in Penang, knowing I’ll depart soon – my heart breaks. But I know it’ll be just the same – maybe even worse – if I extend my stay for one more week, or two (or three).

The days are eventful. Every sunrise precipitates new encounters. Ignorance gets unveiled by and by. Old boundaries dissolve. New dependencies arise. Seemingly fixed identities crumble with the exploration of fresh perspectives.

If you’re human, you know the drill. If I should use any more words it will only add to your confusion.

A Place to Stay

When I arrived I found a place in Toh Aka Inn. It is clean. Quite cheap. People are respectful 99% of the time. There is a fridge with freezing compartment in the community area. Free hot and cold water. Showers with good water pressure. Enough space.

Of course, there are always one or two persons who don’t know how to tread lightly. They don’t care and stomp like elephants. It’s the same people who switch on the room light at night. The same ones who put on shitty music, turn up the volume and leave the dorm room. Also, one in a hundred assumes she is entitled to my stuff because management made a blunder. Well, it’s that 1 % who think only ever of themselves 😉

This photo was taken in Toh Aka Lane. Located in an area where iron smiths used to have their living quarters and workplace. Also, my temporary home base for a month.

A Penang Potpourri

Many tourists come here for the exceptional street art and murals. And for the vast variety of food, obviously.

I go across Chulia Street – please read on to find out how that street got its name. Welcome to Little India. That’s where I fill up my belly. Yessayah!

*Penang Monthly*, 12/2025, p.36. Sometimes it is helpful to quote someone who nails it.

Between Beach Street and Pitt Street

**Lebuh Pantai** (Beach Street) – I lost count how many times I scootered against this Jalan Sehala (Einbahn/OneWay)

**Main Fire Station** on corner Beach St/Chulia St

Bling bling vibes and aforementioned medley scent of cardamom, cumin, cinnamon and curry…

Tamil Culture

January 1, 2026. Evening. New Year Ceremony.
A man getting blessed in temple of **Sai Baba Society**. Delicious vegetarian food served on donation base. Mantra chanting played in the background.

Tapestry of **Kali** stepping on Shiva, holding trident and head in hands

Over time I get to know more and more people from Tamil Nadu, South India 🇮🇳. I come to appreciate their general soft-spoken, warmhearted, tolerant attitude.

Later I learn that Tamil Hindus were referred to as ‘Chulias‘ in colonial records. Many of them were clerks, traders, dock laborers. For what it’s worth, that piece of information contributes to my understanding of why there is Chulia Street.

Tamil Muslims were called ‘Mamaks.’ They worked as food hawkers and sailors. This happened after the island had been established as a free port in 1786.

Teh tarik and Roti canai

I found his postcard in a boutique on Magazine Road. It explains two essential breakfast/brunch/afternoon snack items

Many others came and settled in different parts of George Town: Malayalee muslims from the Malabar coast, Sikhs and North Indian muslims, Nattukottai Chettiars… they fulfilled various functions in society, some worked as traders or financiers, others as security and police force.

‘Chulia Street remains an artery of this history, connecting to the lively grid of today’s Little India around King Street, Queen Street and Market Street, where gold shops, saree boutiques and curry houses fill restored shophouses.’¹

Nasi Kandar

How many times have I come across a restaurant (or Restoran, as they write it here, serving curry, i mean: Kari) and wondered what the term ‘nasi kandar’ means. I know that nasi means rice, as in nasi goreng, nasi campur, nasi lemak, nasi putih etc. But kandar – what is that?

Again, I rely on Iylia de Silva since she seems to know what she is talking about.

‘In the early 20th century, Indian Muslim hawkers walked the streets balancing a wooden pole, known as the kandar, with containers of rice and curry hanging from both ends, which were served to port workers and labourers.’²

Ottukedai

As you can imagine, there are many more things that Little India has to offer. I am going to introduce just one more.

An Ottukedai is a box-like shop attached to the walls of shops or along corridors of big buildings. They originated in South India along the sea. Most of the owners were South Indian fishermen at first.

Friends met along the way.

Ali in the back is the owner of this ..hmm.. Kramladen. Here they call it Ottukedai. Tbh, I don’t know much about him. Matter of fact, I met him only once in late December. He said he could provide anything. I just have to let him know. Give him a couple days, he’d get it. Never saw ‘im again. Shop doors closed whenever I came past it.

Without the bandana, Adriano the Pirate in front looks like Ben Kingsley with tats. But he acts in more… erratic ways, I’d say. Tough but once you get to know him, a very kind man.

Both went through a lot in life to be where they are today.

Iylia De Silva: A Penang Potpurri. How Indian Food Became Everyone’s Food. Penang Monthly, 12/2025, p.36 ↩︎
Ibid., p.37 ↩︎

Malaysia, Penang, Sharing

Tiger Hill

This time i choose a route starting west of Air Itam. Passing Kek Lok Si Temple (that’s the one with the huge Kuan Yin statue) until I reach a parking lot near a location marked as ‘3 Hills’.

From there I head west, then northwest towards Tiger Hill peak.

The mountains are calling… and i must go

*The first obstacle at ‘Three Hills’… one teeth-baring, gnarling dog snatching at my right foot and 5 calm friendly dogs watching their canine companion in berzerk mode*

Take a left turn here. Yes, up the small sandy patch. You will find a rope to help you climb up.

The trail is straight and steep. It is practically impossible to get lost. The path to the peak of Tiger Hill is by far the most straightforward one I have come across in Penang lah.

According to my GPS signal this is Tiger Hill peak. Not spectacular. But good enough to settle down in this clearing and breathe easily for a while.

Once I start to descend I also start to wonder. Where am I exactly? Of course, i ‘know’ the map is not the territory. But… What’s up with Tiger Hill? I find several peaks. Paths that are not indicated on the offline map exist while others that are indicated I can’t make out, really.

Maybe I should have gotten some In.Form.A.Tion …lah! before venturing forth into the Unknown like my brother suggested on the phone 😉 Hmmm…

As mentioned I am about to go down and return to my motorbike near ‘Three hills’ and Kek lok Si temple.

But where am i? GPS stopped being reliable half an hour ago. A silent bare-chested Chinese (?) man with an umbrella crosses my path. I try to speak to him.

Asking him what the three Chinese characters mean on that sign on the tree.

He shrugs and walks on. Going down backwards to keep his knees intact.

Maybe I should follow him?! I mean, he has no T-shirt and an umbrella and walks silently backwards. Seems like a trustworthy guy, right? He reminds me of Kassiopeia, the tortoise guiding Momo. Walking ever so slowly. But can never be overtaken. (Right, Zenon?)

Going back and forth. Weighing my options. Walk along the ridge towards east a while longer or just head down, due south? Trying like a fool to get a GPS signal. No network. No GPS. Not able to read the three Chinese characters – i know the last one means ‘mountain’ but not sure. Am I lost? Why don’t I feel lost? Standing there in the jungle with that device I feel like a fool. But at the same time I feel safe. Sun is still up. My heart is not racing. Not a trace of panic.

After 5 minutes or so I decide to follow him.

After three turns I see him. Yes. A tortoise. I stay behind him. He can’t be overtaken.

Now this all looks like a game, maybe, because I simply made it a game. The decision to go down. No matter where i would come out. Wherever I’d go, there I would be. And would decide where to go from there once I arrived. Highly irresponsible. I know. But what’s that song, how’s it go… I.. don’t.. care 🎵🎶 daa daaa daahh

Coming downhill I meet them, chatting away. I sit down as if we were old friends.
‘*Where you from?’* – ‘Got some tea 🍵?’ – ‘*Yes*. *Want?’* – ‘Saya dari Austria.’ – ‘*Aaaah. Australia!*‘ – ‘No. Europe. no kanguruh lah.’ – *‘Koay Teow, you eat*?’ – ‘Boleh. Ma kasih!’ – ‘*Oooi, cakap Bahasa melayu lah?!’* – ‘No lah. Sedikit sedikit.’ – etc. etc.

We eat. We drink. We laugh. We hardly understand a word we’re saying. Still, we communicate. Miraculous beings.

Turns out one of them, the laughing Buddha, needs to go to Air Itam anyway. I hop on the back of his scooter. He brings me back down. To the pavilion where I met the fierce dog five hours ago. Only two human ladies talking there now. No dogs. I hop off. Bow down. ‘Terima kasih!’ – ‘Yeayeah.’ Off he goes.

I walk down and reach the parking lot where my motorbike 🛵 can’t wait to get on the road again.

Alright then.

Let’s go 🙂

Malaysia, Penang

Bukit Elvira

Penang Monthly is a local magazine I read. One article has inspired me to hike Mount Elvira. The author of that article is named Rexy Prakash Chacko. He has been up there and returned to tell about it.¹ He writes about some lost bungalow up there – which I couldn’t find, by the way. I am glad I found a path through.

The Air Itam Dam was inaccessible due to fallen trees and landslides.

So I start walking south of the Air Itam Lake.

After a leisurely stroll on a concrete road for about 20 minutes, I find a path to the left. It ascends sharply. To the right, a closed gate that does not concern me. The path behind the gate would just lead along the north side of Air Itam lake and back the dam.

But I intend to go upppp.

Always nice to walk next to a bubbling creek like this

After about two hours on a (sometimes quite steep) concrete road – including a short stop at a lovely waterfall for a quick shower – I reach the Iron Cross Junction.

From here on out it is less steep but all the more slippery due to regular mist and fog at this altitude. Fallen palm trees and ferns block the concrete path at times but there is always a clear way through.

Closer to the summit the vegetation gets so dense I have to rely on intuitive north (the sun being south/west at the time) and GPS with Organic Maps app.

Time and again I lose track of the trail. Here and there a tree is marked with red color to show where to go. One time I have to climb over three trees in order to stay on track.

Overall, I agree with Rexy that it is a relatively simple 4-hour track for an avid hiker. Chances of getting lost are indeed low. Still, be sure to take a good offline map, long pants, closed shoes, enough water and snacks with you. Aaaah yeah, and a towel for waterfall bathing!

In general, take water and towel with you. In fact, I can’t remember a single jungle trek I did without a waterfall. There is always a stream, a river, a waterfall somewhere nearby.

If you see this granite stone,
the summit is close

Once you get to the top, you will feel a great sense of satisfaction. Mount Elvira is a hidden gem.

Now – The peak is a quiet haven full of ferns and shrub layer. You might miss it! It is the highest point, though.

Silently, it invites you to sit down to appreciate it in its just-being-ness. Enjoy. Rest. Have a snack. Some water. Then descend.

On my way down I pass a temple and light three incense sticks.

Like the peak of Mt. Elvira, the Taoist temples I come across are so simple. Unpretentious. Subtle. Easy to overlook. Easy to pass by.

One more reason why I like these Taoist temples is that they are practical: there is always a basin full of water nearby with small pails ready to wash off the jungle sweat

R.P. Chacko: Mount Elvira. In Search of a Lost Bungalow. Penang Monthly, 12/2024, p. 34-37 ↩︎

Malaysia, Penang

A Hiker’s Guide to Botanical Gardens Penang

Welcome to the Jungle

As I mentioned in my previous post i am quite the hiking aficionado. Let’s start on the historical side this time. Did you know… ? Ha. No, for real. Did you know the Botanical Gardens were used as a military base. Weapons, ammo, bombs were stored here. Eleven tunnels were built to store ordnance. In 1987, it was all filled up with earth to prevent accidents.

Reading about this in Botanical Gardens Penang I remember having seen a sign about high (sic!) officials having their residences at Taman Tugu in KL.

So much for history. Class is over.

Now for the fun part.

Botanical Gardens

Welcome to one of the ‘most-best‘ places to spend a day in Penang. If you love the healing power of nature, I am preaching to the choir here. Obviously. Now that you’re here, stay for a while. Read on. Who knows, you just might discover new perspectives, corners or angles of this fabulous place you don’t know yet 😉

Why? Because this here is a somewhat behind-the-scenes, off-the-beaten-track, road-less-taken guide to The Botanical Gardens. So if you have found your way here – count your blessings!

The Gardens welcome you from 7 a.m. and stay open until 10 p.m. (!) That means you can be here around dusk when the mosquitoes come out to get you. Nooo. What I mean is you can check out nocturnal animals, birds, bats, monkeys, butterflies… and if you got enough time on your hands and have a mind to change, your ass will follow!

When I get there I park my scooter at the parking lot. First, get a kelapa (coconut) and drink, and scoop out the coconut flesh when it’s empty. As your attorney I advise you… etc. etc.

Moon gate

Then I get going and come across the Moon Gate on my left. I start going up the stairs – because of, why not?! – and I keep going. I talk to a Chinese couple also heading uphill. After about half an hour we arrive at Station 35. Ha! I remember. I have been here. This looks familiar. There is hot coffee, like, real Kopi O, also tea and water. People go ‘Merry Christmas!’ when they see me and wanna give me cookies and biscuits. Well, I remember The Beach – ‘never fail to be polite… and never outstay the welcome…’ – so I take the sugary crackers. Might as well stuff my face and wash it down with black brew, right? Right.

Rest Stop 35

Rest stop 39

Onwards. There is a station to the west, Rest Stop 39. It is about another 30 minutes easy walking (not steep) from Rest Area 35.

Someone tells me there are trees over there. I can hang my hammock and chill with a nice view over Penang. Again, there are free drinks: Chinese herbal tea and water.

Chillin in my hammock
enjoying the view
with a cup of chinese herbal tea

Curtis Trail & Lily Pond

The Botanical Gardens are big enough to return again and again. Many trails start and end here. It is possible to go from here to Penang Hill top Station. Or you can hike up to Bukit Olivia – simply cross the bridge opposite Moongate and follow the trail.

What I did the other day was this: I crossed the bridge opposite Moon Gate and turned left. Then kept to the right until I found a sign marked Curtis Trail with stairs leading upwards into the jungle. Seemed friendly enough. So I entered the trail. Walking slowly, attentively, silently. Cicadas singing. Butterflies flapping. Centipedes crawling – no. no there are no centipedes, don’t worry. Just harmless creatures. Otherwise it would be dilarang masuk. (Obviously.)

After a while I reach mossy, slippery stones leading to a still lily pond. I stay. Listen. Take off my shirt. And there, a turtle gets up to the surface and greets me. Comes closer, looks at me.

This whole atmosphere, it’s misty. Almost mystical. Pun intended. Or maybe that’s just me… daydreaming.

At the Lily pond

The sound of water splashing into the pond. The sound of my own body breathing in and out. The scratching of my pen as I write Melaka postcards to my beloved mother & beloved brother.

After I exit Botanical Gardens and go past the Waterfall Café – What do I hear? Screaming. What do I see? Lots of people. 70 or 80 people. They are obviously up to something big. Dozens are blocking the entrance to the Café or standing in front of it, chatting.

Behind a fence, three guys taking one guy and shaking him violently in front of a fireplace. Everything is full of smoke. Disco lights flickering in the background. Music out of PAs at deafening volume.

WHAT is going on?

A gentleman wearing a black sarong with golden ornaments – I later notice him at the front row being the main MC, i.e. chant leader – enlightens me. It is a ceremony. I am cordially invited to take part. Starts at 8 p.m. ‘We also have foods (sic!)’- Yes, yes! Sure. But… what are they doing to this guy?? – ‘Oh. That. Well, this ceremony has to be well prepared. In order to be safe, it is essential to expel the god named Black from the area. Very fierce god. Very powerful.’ – Ah. Ok. And the flames and fumes? – ‘Purification.’ – Alright. My name is White, I tell him. Hands together, jumpa lagi (see you later).

Alright then, methinks, and lie down on the soft grass in the gardens til about 8 p.m., and then… I return to a scene I find hard to describe. But I remember thinking it is easy to imagine how fanatic and frenetic devotees like these can, yay, almost have to clash with hot-blooded, red-eyed Muslims every now and then.

And how incredibly loud!!! (yes. three exclamation marks) they chant and scream. I take my leave after one hour.

But before putting on my shoes and shirt again, I talk to another man. There are women, too. But having gotten rid of my shirt and now wearing only long black pants… it seems opportune to stay within brotherhood. So I ask a brother who can get a blessing. He tells me anyone. Me, too? Yes. Alright, so he joins me, I bow down, the swāmi puts some ghee (?) or powder-mix on my forehead, touches my head for a second. I stand up, turn around, bow to the gathered crowd. All the while shouting, chanting, music blaring like hell broke loose. We go out again.

I ask about the purpose of all this, and learn more about Shiva and his sons Ganesha, Murugan, and Ayyapan. Also, he explains that the guys clad in black are pilgrims. They have fasted for 48 days and are going to Kerala in January. There, they are to climb 5 (five!) hills, then pray at the top of the last one.

Someone told me there will be foods (sic!), I say to him. Upon learning that food will be served at 11 p.m. aaahh… 10.30 p.m. … 90 more minutes of this? No. My ears were about to explode. And ‘hanging around’ outside the Waterfall Café turned Temple like he suggests … and me being the only ‘red-hair monkey’ in an assembly of ‘black ants’… Hm. kinda weird. Maybe tolerable and thus okay for an hour. But after that I feel a bit out of place. Yeah, even with the smeared-forehead blessing I dared to get from Swāmiji.

Driving home with scooter and feeling like a hero. Having overcome another fear. As the Duke advises:

‘Step confidently into their midst!‘

Celebration of pilgrims and devotees of Ayyapan, 3rd son of Lord Shiva. Too loud for my ears. So I left after an hour cuz of ~80-90dB ~~chanting~~ shouting. I was the only peanut skin guy there. *Of course.*

All this reminds me of my travels in 2019 when I went to Kheerganga and my visiting Baba at 3,000m ASL… the origin of Ganga in Himachal Pradesh: Boom Fala, Balli Walla. And Bomm Bholenaaaath! – chillum pina hamare sath.

Malaysia, Penang, Sharing

Peaks & Parks of Penang

How I jungle-trekked with backpackers, then on my own, even(tually) with Hash Club

I hike a lot of hills here. I admit it. It’s almost an addiction. Hm. Sounds harsh. Let’s call it a habit, a hobby, a behavioral pattern.

Usually i explore treks and trails, peaks and parks on my own. Unless i stumble upon a group of like-minded nature lovers. The Hashers seem like a nice bunch. Gotta say. Supposedly, it has all started off in Malaysia and spread across the globe. Like, for instance, the Kaya Toast.

(Kaya Toast? Nooo! That from Singapore originally! – ‘No way. It’s not!’ – ‘Yes is.’- No, that’s also Malaysian tradition.’ – ‘You’re mistaken. Listen…’ – ‘No, You listen!’ … Hey guys, HEY, c’mon, stop fighting. Or find a reasonable reason, ok?)

Ok-lah. The Hash Club. Who are they? According to ~~John 3:14~~ that guy Jason, ‘some alcoholics with a running problem’. Here comes yours truly. As mentioned, I’m a guy with a forest addiction. I can be persuaded, under certain circumstances and conditions, to drink a beer or two, or three. Fits like a glove, I’d say.

Then again, I like to follow Groucho Marx in never joining a club that would accept me as a member. Or maybe that was Hunter S. Thompson. I forget.

But first things first.

On my second day here in Penang, I join a group of fellow backpackers.

Penang Hill (Bukit Bendera)

Heritage Trail to Top station and back

I remember well my first time hiking up Bukit Bendera. Most tourists take the train up to top station. Obviously, such a thing is out of the question. When I went up the first time, I was on my own. And IIRC, I reached top station from where I stayed at that time – Bodhi Heart Sanctuary – and only went the heritage trail back down to take a RapidPenang bus. I went up there the second time, together with Joy, giving sewa (dhamma service) at a Goenka 10-day Vipassana retreat.

This time, it’s different.

Central Hills

Beverly Heights – Bukit Botak – Bukit Relau – Datuk Putih – Hash PIIH Runners Reckoning

This time I decide to hike to Bukit Botak and Bukit Relau. Both are located in the Central Hills. Access via Jalan Bukit Gambir.

I park my scooter at an empty parking lot beneath a Chinese Buddhist temple. On my way I come across closed gates, dozens of wild dogs, and a construction site preparing the area for durian plantations. All of these obstacles (where are you, Ganesha!?) prevent me from advancing… and compel me to backtrack.

I head north to Datuk Putih. At the Taoist temple I use the water basin to wash off the sweat. Mozzies approach and take their fill. Like the Dalai Lama, My holiness sometimes is juuuust a little bit violent, too, when it comes to mosquitoes.. Sometimes. Hihihi, just a tiny bit violent chihihi. [*insert Tenzi gyatso giggle here*]

I say this knowing all too well in Buddhism I am not punished for my sins but by my sins. (Obviously, you gotta be a Buddhist to get that joke, or to find it amusing, for that matter.)

Finding my way with an offline map and GPS

Upon returning to the southeast towards Beverly Heights I meet the first couple of people this afternoon. Then I arrive at the parking lot. WHAT? Keretas. Keretas everywhere! The whole place has filled up with cars! I go up to some guys and ask what that gathering is all about.

And that’s how I meet and connect with the local ‘hash’ group in Penang 🙂 Yes. This is the correct spelling, i double- and triple-checked. Even took a photo. Look. Okay, you’ll have to read another 3½ paragraphs before that.

Saturday Hash Reckoning

They drink and hike and eat – and drink some more. But they are surprised when I tell them that I associate hash with ganja. Oh, no. That’s illegal. We dlink beeeeeer! Hahaha. Funny international bunch of homies.

They go uphill once or twice a week tracking paper trails which one of them has set up to create a route in the morning. Afterwards there is a jovial get-together. I call it the reckoning. Lots of beer, cheeky remarks, politically incorrect nicknames and sexual puns abound.

Lots of laughter and merry smiles. It’s all meant in a wink-amd-smile kind of way. Also, self-prepared food. Yes. Food is served by a ‘hair’/’bunny‘ i.e. caterer of the day. Home-made. Thai dishes, rice, crabs, pad kra pao, salad, soup…

Each day of the week signals another chapter of the hash family. Different groups, similar vibes, all good folks.

Well, now see for yourself 🙂

Tuesday Hash Chapter

Three days after meeting that jolly bunch of hashers at Beverly Heights I ride my scooter to Charlie Market (Mt. Erskine Road). I arrive 10 minutes late (they start 5.30 p.m. sharp) but no prob.

I join Shen and together we hike (almost) to Bukit Olivia! Going up and down and up again. It is more demanding than I expected. On our way we meet several fellow hashers, from New Zealand, Great Britain, Germany, and of course, China, Malay, Penang.

From Shen I learn that there is quite a number of short-cutting-bastards (SCB).

Malaysia, Penang

My home away from home: Exploring Culture and Nature.

Third week in Penang. Where start? What to tell you? …

It has certainly been eventful, to say the least!

So much has happened. So why don’t you get some coffee in your favourite cup-p-p and let’s gooooo.

…

…..

Rented a bicycle for 3 days, then a scooter for one week. Helped me get around Pulau Pinang, explore the place at my own pace.

Little, historical, pluralistic Georgetown. The places and faces, the temples and eateries, all reverberate with a multicultural vibe. Even the smell of Penang is a mix of diverse influences and international tastes. I’d describe it as a mix of street food, incense, and durian. Every day I stay here is a day that i come to recognize how tolerant and peaceful the people are. In Penang Monthly, a well-known magazine around here, I found a distilled phrasing that hits the spot:

‘In Malaysia, perhaps what binds is less a shared cultural core than the everyday recognition that difference is the baseline.’

Artisan Art & Haute Cuisine

Street Art

**A collection of murals I came across**

Blessed Food and Beach Life

I have lunch at Sai Baba Society on Queen Street almost every day. It’s vegetarian. It’s blessed. It’s free. It’s yummy. Filling. With families. Children jumping around, playing. Good vibes. Unity.

Food is about transformation¹ and connection. The famous anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss associated cooking with the transformation of nature (raw) into culture (cooked).² Food connects us with other people and with a place. It also connects us to mother nature, to home and hearth. The practice and art of cooking food – and gathering to eat together! – certainly plays a major role in distinguishing us from other animals. It is probably as significant as tool making, language, or storytelling.

To share food is to signal peace, fellowship, trust and belonging.³

Barriga llena, corazon contento. So with a full belly, i hop on the scooter and roll up north coast of the peninsula. Admittedly, the whole scene is underwhelming. West of Georgetown, at Teluk Bahang and Batu Ferringi, there are indeed beaches (pantai) … but I am a spoiled brat when it comes to beaches. You know. These are a mere 2.5/5 stars. Mediocre. Of course, many families with full body suit, children plansching around, kelapa service.

Another day I took off and went 50 minutes on scooter from Georgetown via Balik Pulau to southwest end. Having arrived I enjoyed the beach at Pulau Bentong (Pasir Panjang).

Far away from Georgetown.
Do not go there, not worth it.

I mean it. Stay away.

Late afternoon, the men start fishing. The women start digging for crabs.

Workout

For about two weeks I been working out at the gym. Every second day. Made it a routine. Feels good. Feels great to be doing something. Just a handful of people come here. I talk to some of them. Everything feels much more easygoing than in Vienna, e.g. workout without a T-Shirt as long as you use a towel: I did it and nobody complained. A Penangite named Soul (the gym manager) said he would like to interview me.

[UPDATE: The Interview. It actually took place eventually. One day before my b-day #45. Thirteen personal questions about my workout routine and lifestyle. Then at the end, a bonus question about Malaysian government health policy and budget which I answered evasively.]

After recording the interview we took a picture

For my purposes, the Seven Star Gym fully serves its purpose. It’s RM20 first time. From then on RM15 (about €3) per visit. Shower yes. BYO towel!

That’s where my Algerian friend Muhammad did his boxing

Whoa! THAT escalated quickly

One night there was a girl that wanted to be in my bed terribly bad. No… really!

It went like this.

She had just arrived that day. I was somewhere else but not at the guest house. Management assigned her my bed in the dorm. Classic double-booking blunder. I come up to see my bed in total disarray. My towel gone. I wonder.

Then a girl enters the dorm, comes up. Sees me standing there, turns around, mumbling. I ask her if this is her phone which is charging there. Yeah, it is. Fuck yeah. Why do I f… touch her stuff? How dare I touch her stuff. ‘WTF???’ So I ask her as calmly as I can among all that f-f-f… phrasing of hers. I ask her if she is aware that these are my personal belongings. She shuffles past me and sits on the bed. This is my bed! When asked again about these things next to the mattress she states she thought my stuff (my mobile phone charger already in use with her phone, my headphones, a book, a toilet bag) was ‘part of some package deal’. Now why don’t I just ‘fuck off’ and ‘stop intruding her space’. This actually happened two days ago at midnight. You can’t make that shit up.

We called in the manager to give her another bed eventually. Afterwards, she apologized. Twice. I gave her a hug. Told her no worries. It’s in the past. I was astonished how easy it felt to forgive her. Just an anxious confused girl.

Honestly, I did not plan on ending with such an unfortunate incident. But I didn’t want to put it at the beginning. And it did not fit among all the nature photos in the middle. Thus, it just so happens to be the last paragraph.

Like they say in the after-last English letters, ‘I really wanted to send you money this time. However, I had already sealed the envelope.‘ 😉

Let this ~~painting~~ photo be an appropriate conclusion to this chapter in Kimberly’s (my ‘hash’ name, more on that next time) journey.

[UPDATE: Two weeks later I am grateful for the lesson that came with this incident. It inspired me to open my diary and write some paragraphs about the (Caucasian/European) sense of entitlement. If I get to it I will make it a page entry. For now, thoughts that I don’t put online but write down in my diary instead… well, it’s not without reason. Not everything is meant to go public. Raw thoughts need to be refined into letters, then polished before hitting your eyeballs. If I’d let you in on my uncensored trains of thought you might picture me as cold-blooded and mean, and I wouldn’t survive that. Obviously. The very second that some person on this planet thought in such a way about me (me!) I (capital I!) would most certainly drop dead. But I have to keep on living for a while longer. And be it only to prevent my family from grief, sorrow, and lamentation. So there’s your rationale if you ever needed one.]

Postscript

One more thing about human encounters; if you think of something nice to say to somebody, just say it.

Don’t even second guess what the person or some bystander could think. Just say it.

Dare to be kind. It’s natural.

We live in a world when people find it too easy to spread poison. We listen to so much swearing and condemnation in movies. We get used to it. We find it funny. Time and again I notice that. How hard it is for many people to plant flowers in the hearts of others.

Stay positive and friendly, no matter what. If you see a cool accessory, tell the person you like what they are wearing. Do you see someone who got something that you would like? Go ahead! Tell that person how lucky they are and that you are happy for them. You WILL partake in their happiness and enjoyment.

It’s easy if you try. Have no fear. We are all in the same boat. We are born and we will die. Everyone. This is not a tragedy. This is what makes this moment so damn precious.

Remember: All the people, everyone you meet usually wishes for their own general health and happiness. Don’t you? Think about it. And contemplate the implications of this simple truth.

Let me tell you: Whatever seeds you plant it will all come back ten-fold.

Peace.

Michael Pollan: Cooked: A Natural History of Transformation. (Penguin Press, 2013) ↩︎
Claude Lévi-Strauss: The Raw and the Cooked. (Univ of Chicago Press, 1990) ↩︎
Sheryl Teoh: ‘Why I still cook when it is so easy not to’, in: Penang Monthly, 12/2025, p.15 ↩︎

Last Train To Laos

Kimo's Journey: Asia, India and Beyond

Felidae of Lavender Heights

Ranong: Scooter Ride, Hot Spring, Kra Buri NP

Buying a Honda in Thailand

Raksa Warin Hot Spring

Ferry to Ko Phayam

George Town’s Little India

Heading north, but not yet

A Place to Stay

A Penang Potpourri

Between Beach Street and Pitt Street

Tamil Culture

Teh tarik and Roti canai

Nasi Kandar

Ottukedai

Bukit Elvira

A Hiker’s Guide to Botanical Gardens Penang

Welcome to the Jungle

Botanical Gardens

Moon gate

Rest Stop 35

Rest stop 39

Curtis Trail & Lily Pond

At the Lily pond

My home away from home: Exploring Culture and Nature.

Artisan Art & Haute Cuisine

Street Art

Blessed Food and Beach Life

Workout

Whoa! THAT escalated quickly

Postscript