Malaysian look

The good people

July 11

I go to the touristy state of Penang, talk about Malaysian-style multiculturalism, and I insist on eating with utensils!

A little less than 1 km, to finish Thailand to Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia.

Shortly after entering Malaysia, I stop at George Town, in the tourist island of Penang. Known for its multicultural food, the city is a motley mix of the country's three great cultures: Malay, Chinese and Indian.

I walk around town, looking everywhere for graffiti on the walls. This street art is an idea of the local government, and the majority of the designs were done as recently as 2012, by a lithuanian artist.

On the ferry back to the peninsula, a Malaysian of Chinese origin approaches me. He says his name is William. Like many people of Chinese descent, he chose a western name for himself that he now uses more than his real first name.

William is not tall, has a bit of extra weight, and a round face. Her eyes are soft and her hair is salt more than pepper. I look at him, telling myself that we look alike despite the difference in age and origin. He is full of curiosity about my journey and asks me lots of questions.

I in turn share with him my wonder at the different communities living together in his country. He tells me that reality is more complicated than that. Although her family has been in Malaysia for three generations - four for her children - they will never be fully accepted as full citizens. He is a Buddhist himself, but even his son who converted to Islam, the religion of the country, still suffers some discrimination.

When the ferry touches port after ten minutes on the water, William leans towards his motorcycle and takes out a little juice in a box. He offers it to me, apologizing for not having anything bigger to give me, and adds "you will take it when you have a dry mouth, it's hot in here".

I want to take him in my arms but dozens of motorcycles around us start to move out of the boat. He gives me his card. "Call me if you come back to Penang!" ".

An Indian taking a nap right on the sidewalk.

Fingers

Along the way thereafter, I continue to familiarize myself with some local traits. In every hotel room, there is an arrow on the ceiling that indicates the direction of Mecca. Convenient for those who want to point in the right direction to pray in the evening (and in the morning). Especially since most of my rooms don't have a window!

One evening, I see a man who appears to have a mental handicap eating with his fingers. I don't think about it more than that. But, as the days go by, I realize that if we are used to utensils, and the Japanese or Vietnamese eat with chopsticks, here it is most often with their fingers that it happens. It hits me suddenly when in the middle of a restaurant, I realize that I'm the only one weirdo to eat with a fork. And we're talking about eating rice and other oily stuff with your fingers here.

This is a tradition that I do not think I will adopt so soon!