Ringgit Out

Dearest Rachel –

I rather expected to be able to wander about the city once my (relatively brief, I have to admit) shore excursion was over with today. I had way too much ringgit in my pocket, especially considering how far those things go here in Malaysia.

I certainly had plenty of time to do so if I wanted to; I was back to the terminal by half past noon, and slightly disappointed that being walked around the block by our guide and through an all but empty pier building, devoid of all, but the barest of stands. I’ve seen rural anime conventions with dealers’ rooms more crowded than that.

But when we made our way through, one of the remaining members of our tour (we were down to six of us, the rest having peeled off, either to have their trishaw captain drive them back to the ship early, or to shop – and work their way home – at their own pace) pointed out that we were on the opposite side of an open gate we’d passed several minutes before. If we were to go back through that gate, we could wander about the port area, at least, serene in the realization that we knew how to make our way back to the ship.

It sounded like a brilliant idea, and I slipped away from the group; I’d already slipped a few bills to our guide when she brought us to the pier, so I wasn’t beholden to her. I was free to head back out, and make my way back into Penang.

Except I wasn’t. Right by the barricade was a small station that had completely passed my notice. Within it was a member of Penang’s finest, I guess. The long and short of it is, as I approached the open gate, there was a sharp noise – a reproving voice uttering words I couldn’t understand – and a hand emerged from the station, gesturing me back toward the pier and the ship.

I’d been led into a trap; I couldn’t leave the pier!

I couldn’t believe it; why wouldn’t they want us tourists wandering about that much longer, spending both time and money in the area? But that’s how it seemed to be, much to my irritation.

Under other circumstances, I think I might have raised more of a fuss. If nothing else, the fact that they didn’t seem to want me to linger in their town seemed so counterintuitive that I’d want answers. Maybe I misunderstood the meaning of his gesture; maybe I just had to go through the proper channels, walk through the correct pathways, and I could return to the streets again to browse George Town as I pleased, whereas here I was trying to sneak through a barricade that I assumed (incorrectly) was unguarded. Do things the right way, and you’ll be allowed back, like a guest observing his host’s rules.

But despite the fact that this was to be the last of land for several days to come for us, I suddenly decided I couldn’t be bothered. Oh, we’d had a fine day out – especially considering that it had been predicted in the morning that we might be dealing with not only clouds and rain, but even thunderstorms (although I noticed that we’d been experiencing some of those already the night before, as I once again woke up at a ridiculous hour, unable to quite fall back asleep again. Perhaps we saw them earlier than expected, and got them over with; but if so, why did the prediction still stand, even in the morning when we had already theoretically passed through them?) – but even with the sun shining brightly and beating heavily down upon us, the few hours that I had were quite enough. After so much time in ninety-plus degree heat, I was starting to feel wrung out; taking all that effort to get back into the city (assuming I could figure out how) just didn’t feel like it was worth it.

And so, I headed into the terminal, and wandered around a few of their shops – buying a couple more t-shirts, just on the off chance they might appeal to me or Daniel; grabbing that pile of snacks you saw earlier (and helping out a couple whose own purchases were a couple of ringgit more than they had on them. These little blue pieces of paper are barely worth a quarter, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to help them out) – before falling into line at the currency exchange. I rather expected to get ripped off by the buying rate – and on later analysis, I did lose about a buck and a half from the buyback – but that’s the price of doing business, I guess. It wasn’t enough of a nuisance for me to make a whip out of cords and tear the place apart over – although it did get hard on my feet to be standing in line for twenty or thirty minutes, waiting my turn. I rather felt bad in particular for some of the crew members I recognized (but only barely, given they were in civilian clothes, as opposed to their dining room suits and ties) waiting to get local currency in order to spend just a couple of hours out there, and losing half of one of those hours in this annoyingly immobile line.

Now that we’re underway to our next destination, I don’t know if I passed up my chance to do (or see, or buy) more, or if I just understood my limitations, and folded my cards accordingly.

Either way, I guess I should continue to ask you to keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m clearly still going to need it.