Last night around 10:30 pm the first explosion cracked the air, so close to my hotel that I instinctively sat upright in bed. Then another. And another. Fireworks ricocheted between buildings for more than an hour, assuring I wouldn’t sleep. I assume they were in honor of Chinese New Year, though I never confirmed it. I began my final day slightly bleary eyed, fortified by multiple cups of coffee.
I started along Gurney Bay, often referred to as “Millionaire’s Row,” where sleek high rises line the waterfront. A brand-new seafront park stretches along reclaimed land. There are wide promenades, sculptural benches, bicycle paths, a waterpark, and carefully planted saplings. Those spindly plantings promise future shade but for now, offer none. Under a white sky and rising heat, the views are beautiful but unprotected.
The skyline is dominated by the imposing Penang Marriott Hotel, a gleaming tower rising more than fifty floors above the waterfront. The surrounding condominiums are equally modern and sleek, clearly designed for wealthy Malaysians and visiting foreigners who want sea views, infinity pools, and concierge desks.
From there I drove just a few minutes to Lim Jetty. It’s physically close. Culturally worlds apart.
Lim Jetty is one of the quieter clan jetties, primarily residential. The wooden walkway narrows, the boards are uneven, the houses perched on stilts above the water without embellishment. No shops, no tourists, just daily life unfolding above the tide.
As I walked the length of the jetty, I was struck by how seamlessly Penang layers its identities. Within minutes I moved from ultra-modern international luxury to basic wooden clan homes stretching back generations.
Driving toward the historic core, I passed remnants of the British era, colonial buildings with colonnades and shuttered windows, some beautifully restored, others crumbling and in need of repair. In between stood Chinese temples heavy with incense, Hindu temples vibrant with color, and mosques crowned with domes. George Town celebrates its multiculturalism.
It is part of what earned George Town recognition from UNESCO as a World Heritage Site, preservation not just of buildings, but of coexistence. Penang isn’t a single identity. It is many things at once.
My final cultural stop was the Cheong Fatt Tze Mansion, better known as the Blue Mansion. And yes, it is very blue. Shockingly, theatrically blue. Interestingly, it looked like the exact blue of Frida Kahlo’s house in Mexico City. At least that’s what it reminded me of.
Built in the late nineteenth century by Cheong Fatt Tze, a Chinese merchant sometimes called the “Rockefeller of the East,” the mansion was both residence and statement. Its indigo walls, open courtyards, Scottish cast iron, and Chinese carved wood reflect the same hybrid identity that defines Penang itself.
Today it operates as a boutique hotel, allowing guests to sleep within its courtyards and corridors. It is heritage with room service.
By early afternoon it was time to head to the airport for my flight back to Kuala Lumpur. In retrospect, I should have driven. I would have arrived faster and with far less aggravation.
The airport felt tired and in serious need of refurbishment. The scene was chaotic, too few counters open, lines snaking around the building. I had requested a wheelchair and was grateful I had. The line for security was absurd, stretching in a slow-moving coil. My wheelchair assistant leaned toward me and said quietly, “At least an hour,” as he maneuvered me to the designated assistance lane. There was only a single security machine functioning.
After surviving that bottleneck, I discovered my flight was delayed. First by thirty minutes. Then an hour. Then two hours. No reason offered.
When boarding was finally announced, I assumed the inconvenience was over. I was wrong. Despite visible jetways, none were being used. Instead, we walked outside and were required to climb a flight of stairs to board the aircraft. So much for accessibility.
I finally landed in Kuala Lumpur two and a half hours late. It was raining. The humidity was thick and immediate, wrapping itself around me like a damp blanket.
As I rode into the city, exhausted, I decided that tomorrow, my final day in Malaysia, would be spent in air conditioning. Museums, cafés, anywhere cool. Maybe that will minimize the shock of returning to snowy New York.