Penang
Hot
"Selamat jalan."
My departing words in Indonesian to Gulie at Penang Airport were to wish Juliana a good trip across the globe. Penang-Milan-New York. She's heading back to Manhattan, where my good Italian friend will have to deal with her separation from Giancarlo, her husband also my friend. Her entire stay lay under the black clouds of her future. If she expects people to take sides, they will. She left Penang angry with my imagined betrayal and abandoning her sick with dysentary on Langawi Island for an evening. I drank with a cute German, but didn't try anything. Never do after two beers. I drank a good five.
Standing between two people without choosing a side is never a winning strategy. I said nothing about Giancarlo leaving her for a young Jamaican nurse looking like a cad, but I never see any of her friends socially, except for Diane Brill and Maurizio. Anyway I'm in the shits with her.
Rob hasn't called from London. I asked Danny the hotel twice a day, if a friend left a message. Nothing. $150 short of a return ticket out of Kuala Lumpur. I didn't even dare to ask Juliana for money. So I'm stuck here.
The room at the Swiss Hotel has a noisy fan, but the bed comfortable, and the room clean, although I just saw another rat. Chased by a hotel cat. The overnight neon lighting in the hallway blinds even the blind. I'm sweating and haven't had a drink in three days. Oh yeah, I have been playing basketball down at Fort Cornwallis in the midday Sun with Filipino sailors. They are really fast.
Stranded. It could be worse. Breakfast at this hotel is good. Food here is cheap, especially at corner Halal Nasi Kandar restaurant on Julia Street in the shadow of the Anjuman Himayathul Islam minaret. The muzzein has a sweet voice and the restaurant serves a lovely iced tea and curry. I am not Robinson Crusoe abandoned by his shipmates. Just a broke poet.
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