If you’re thinking about visiting Penang don’t coz it’s shit!

If you’re thinking about visiting Penang don’t coz it’s shit! The history of modern Penang can be traced back to 1786 when Sir Francis Light persuaded the Sultan of Kedah to cede “Pulau Pinang”, or Betel Nut Island, to the British East Indian Company. Blah, blah, blah, blah. Every guide book, every travel brochure, and every other honeymooning British couple will tell you “how amazing” this island is. Bollox. Penang is shit, and we thought that you should know this! It’s not often we’re disappointed when we’re on the road but Penang has won the gold medal as far as over rated destinations go. Originally named the Prince of Wales Island, the settlement that slowly grew was renamed George Town after King George III, and for more than 100 years remained under British colonial rule – and that’s how it should have stayed! Instead, as with the rest of Malaysia, Penang gained independence in 1957, and that’s when the rot set in. The bustling city of Georgetown (so many cars) is the island’s commercial and political hub, and rather inevitably the base for most overseas visitors. Sure, the island might have a colourful history and boast some of South East Asia’s finest remaining colonial buildings, but that’s not enough to warrant its reputation as a “must see” destination.

The island, from top to bottom, is nothing more than an ageing, sprawling dump. At the risk of defaming the Chinese, again, we reckon they’re the ones at fault. It seemed some 90 per cent of the locals were of Chinese origin, and some 90 per cent of the tourists to boot. As a consequence, the place stinks, with over crowding and squalor everywhere you look. To quote one Malaysian local we met, Darran, who has returned for a year’s work after a 20 year hiatus: “I’m lost. The Penang I grew up in and studied in has gone. I don’t know this place any more.” People, generally, stay in one of two areas: backpackers are drawn to the cheap as chips Chinatown area, flanked by Little India; package holiday makers tend to opt for the resort ridden Batu Ferringhi, why God only knows! At least Georgetown, home to Chinatown among its suburbs, has a few bits to offer those passing through. Little India is like a street party at night, while the top end of Jalan Penang is home to some decent bars, even clubs (Chinese style!) The capital is also home to Fort Conwallis, a former stockade, and some impressive colonial builds.

That really is about as good as it gets – unless you happen to see Everton destroy Manchester United, 3-1, on the big screen! Then Penang is simply great! Watching the throngs of locals sporting Man Utd shirts collapse to the ground when young Rodwell fired home the winner was a moment to remember, regardless of where you were! To be fair, there are a great number of temples to visit. Khoo Kongsi is by far the grandest clan temple on the island, while the massive Kek Lok Si is said to be one of the finest Buddhist temples in South East Asia (you have to run a gauntlet of hawkers and t-shirt stalls just to get to the main gate). But don’t, like us, fall for the charming way the Snake Temple is depicted in local leaflets thereby avoiding a worthless bum-numbing bus ride! Colourfully described as a temple housing poisonous pit vipers rendered harmless by smoking incense, we found no more than a few plastic imitations and two locals flogging Kodak snaps with an ageing 10ft python. Two hours wasted. That said, there’s always the “world class” beaches found further north; Batu Ferringhi is the home to package holidaymakers, wooed by glossy brochure images of golden sand and deep blue waters. Uh, no. All you’ll find here is a few swanky resorts framed by dilapidated buildings and empty restaurants. Even the beaches suck. And for Malaysia, not least South Asia, these beaches really do suck, not to mention swamped by poisonous jellyfish! Another two hours wasted. Ah, but there’s the amazing Penang Hill, Malaysia’s first hill station, its summit still fed by 90 year old funicular trains. Ironically, the day after we made the trip 830m above sea level the train was to be closed after 89 years of operation, replaced by a 21st century imitation. As for the train itself, for us British Rail now doesn’t seem such a joke. Wait two hours to board, queue for another half hour (four small carriages only and the trip takes 28 minutes), then discover what tinned sardines must feel like when finally boarding before exhaling in bewilderment on realising the views from the top looking nothing like the postcards suggested. Four hours wasted.

But surely the food saves the day. Perhaps. There’s no disputing Penang is home to some fine fare. Any one of the countless Malay, Chinese, Indian, Indonesian and Nonyan stalls we called on served us up some really tasty, often spicy grub - very cheap too. The many night food markets littering the city, too, are well worth a visit, but after a few days the novelty wears off and some dishes really aren’t all that tasty. And every where you go it’s Carlsberg or Tiger, big litre bottles that turn some how manage to turn warm even when delivered in ice buckets. Hmmm, Penang. What more can we say? Well, don’t be surprised if you’re forced to bury a dead dog on the beach terrace of a local bar, or get confused with the silly money. They’re building – the Chinese actually – a second bridge to the mainland just to add to the overpopulation. The buses are reliable and offer a cheap retreat from the exhaust fumes and smog. Oh, and it’s boasts a really well served airport, so it’s quick and easy to get out.