TWO weekends ago, we took a little family holiday up north to Penang. I had grand plans in my head: For three days, my kids were going to get a healthy dose of history and culture.
We would meander along Armenian Street, join the Anak-Anak Kota or Children of the City (www.arts-edpenang.org/images/heritage/heritage.htm) heritage walkabout, visit the kongsis, marvel at the architecture and eat at kopitiams steeped in history. I would tell them the history of Penang and the many streets of George Town, which are bursting with stories of communities past and present.
At least that was the plan.
When we cruised into town, we went in search of Joo Hooi Kopitiam on Penang Road, armed with a foodie road map my Penangite friend had drawn for me. Our goal: Char koay teow and lor bak. It was tucked in a little alleyway, which was barely wide enough for our MPV to pass through. Next to it was a famous cendol stall, which had a line of people snaking towards it.
It was a Sunday, so the coffeeshop was filled to the brim.
My kids looked at me incredulously.
We’re eating there, Mummy?
Yes. But we want to go to the hotel, Mummy!
It is too early to check in, and the char koay teow is really yummy!
It was too crazy to park, so we ended up at Ho Ping Coffeeshop two streets away. By this time, the kids were getting sulky. After promises of the hotel pool and beach, the adults managed to wolf down plates of steaming fried flat noodles and freshly deep -fried meat rolls. That was worth the whining. Almost.
The kids perked up immediately when we got to the hotel. The minute we put the luggage down in our room, both had stripped themselves and were waiting to put on their swimsuits. I’d never seen them that motivated before. I’d never seen Lauren, two, manoeuvre herself out of a dress. That afternoon, she did it in three seconds flat.
So we went to the beach and all antagonism towards the kopitiam was forgotten. Until we changed for dinner.
“Where are we going, Mummy?” Suspicious.
“Dinner! We’re going to town.”
“But where? A restaurant?” Still suspicious.
“No, we’re eating at the street stalls.”
“A street stall? What do you mean a street stall? Does it have air-cond?” Despair.
Fine, there’s no air-conditioning at Gurney Drive, but they could go get some snacks at the supermarket at Gurney Plaza after dinner. Chips, sweets and soya bean milk, which are their current top three favourite snacks.
It was only the first night and I’d used nearly all my bargaining chips (pun intended).
The next day, we went to the Khoo Kongsi, the clanhouse of one of the five big Chinese clans who settled in Penang, and a Unesco World Heritage Site.
The kids were semi-interested. They liked looking at the carvings on the pillars, after which I tried to distract them with the many beautiful lanterns, and the recreation of a kitchen back in the olden days.
All in all, it took about 15 minutes. Over 600 years of history condensed into five minutes on the pillars, five
minutes on the lanterns and five minutes on the faux kitchen. My kids are nothing if not efficient.
My plan to walk around the streets surrounding the kongsi was quickly vetoed, by the kids and their father. “It's too hot, it’ll take too long, we want to go back to the hotel!” I was the only shining beacon in a family of spoilsports!
That night, we had dinner at the pizzeria at the hotel, by the beach.
The kids were happy not to be dragged to funny places to eat, and I was happy not to have to bargain.
Despite all the whining, pleading and blackmail, on my part, it was a great holiday. We had good laughs and filled our bellies with such delicious food. The kids had a blast on the beach and were perfectly happy to just live in their swimsuits. We ate durian cheap at a fruit farm in Batu Ferringhi and had freshly squeezed pineapple juice. I bet they even enjoyed the town jaunts a little, which, of course, they would vehemently deny.
But I will continue planning heritage holidays. I am going to get culture into those two, whether they like it or not.
A week after the trip, the kids asked whether they could go to Penang again. I asked why? We like the hotel, they said. Ooo-kay. Maybe the next trip, I’ll just leave them at the hotel and pound the sidewalks myself with my camera. When they see the amazing pictures I take, they’ll be so sorry they stayed behind to swim and lounge by the
pool. They’ll beg me to take them with me when I next go out.
A mother can always dream.
Elaine Dong is a history and heritage buff and blogs at www.angelolli.com.
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