Penang today is very much an amalgam of the old and the new – a bustling port, a heritage city and an industrial base. Perhaps it has more to offer per square mile than any other place in the world. For sheer variety of locales, cultures and foods, Penang is hard to beat. Here are stories about Penang and more.
Choosing a restaurant for Mother’s Day was a decision I approached with care. The luncheon would bring together three generations of my family, from my 92-year-old Mum to my 23-year-old daughter. I wanted a place where everyone would feel comfortable, and where the meal itself would be worthy of the occasion.
People have their own preferences when it comes to durians and mine lean strongly towards fruits from older trees. These tend to yield durians with a smoother, creamier texture and a deeper, more pronounced aroma and flavour. Interestingly, even durians from the same tree can taste different from one season to the next, influenced by soil composition and changing weather conditions. For instance, the much-coveted Or Chi (Black Thorn) does not always deliver the same profile each year.
Born into a Chinese Peranakan family, I often find my culinary cravings leaning towards other cuisines – whether it is Chinese, Thai, Italian, Japanese, Vietnamese, Continental, Mexican, Indian or Malay – when dining out, unless I am hosting guests from abroad who crave for Nyonya cuisine. Sometimes when time allows, I will gladly roll up my sleeves and prepare a Nyonya feast to ensure that they depart Penang with a lasting impression of the vibrant and unique flavours that define Nyonya cuisine.
Wat Buppharam may not appear on every traveller’s must-see list in Penang, but those who step into its tranquil embrace are often rewarded with sacred and unexpected discoveries. Can a silent statue whisper the truth of your wishes? Within its shrine hall rests a humble, one-foot-tall figure known as the “Lifting Buddha”, a sacred icon believed to be able to reveal just that!
It was a bright, sun-dappled morning when I stepped into the grounds of Penang Buddhist Association (PBA) and there it stood – the magnificent Bodhi tree (Ficus religiosa). I marvelled at its presence, imagining the journey of the sapling that once was – now grown into a towering testament of faith and endurance. This is no ordinary tree. A sacred gift from Sri Lanka, it is believed to be a direct descendant of the very fig tree under which Siddhartha Gautama attained enlightenment in Bodh Gaya. Its lineage, through the revered Jaya Sri Maha Bodhi in Anuradhapura – planted in 288 BCE – connects Penang to a living legacy of over two millennia.
Written by Adrian Cheah and Josephine Choo
Cover design and book layout by Adrian Cheah
Designing a 204-Page Book Celebrating a Century of Healing and Care
Taking the Challenge
When the Penang Adventist Hospital 100th Anniversary book project came to me, I was tasked with designing the publication, while Josephine Choo was responsible for researching, collating information, and writing the stories that would take readers on an epic journey through a century of healing and care.
The Buddhist flag is a common sight in Buddhist communities today, often seen hanging from temple ceilings or columns indoors, or flying high from flagpoles.
“You should wash your hands using water poured over the inside chambers of a hollowed durian skin. It will remove the strong odour from your fingers", urged Mr Teh, my neighbour who accompanied me on a durian feast at one of the many durian orchards in Balik Pulau. That morning, we had a satisfying breakfast like no other, amidst the natural surroundings of the orchard, shaded by towering durian trees.
I have often wondered about my paternal grandfather, Cheah Siang Tee, a man I never met or even seen in a photograph. Yet I carry his surname, and with it, many unanswered questions. There is so much I would like to know about him, especially the flavours he loved and the comfort foods of his time.
In the quiet hush of a cold morning at the Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial, I stood amidst the lingering mist, each breath a visible puff in the air. I saw hills of shoes, silent witnesses to lives extinguished. Then came the photographs, frozen in time, capturing emaciated bodies, hollow eyes, and unspeakable suffering. I stepped into the remnants of the gas chambers, where silence screamed louder than words. The chill was no longer just physical; it was emotional, moral, spiritual. It was a searing reminder of the horrors man can inflict on his fellow human beings. The hatred. The cruelty. The machinery of death carried out with cold precision.
On 27 February 2026, I stood in the High Court in Penang, watching my old friend step forward to don a new robe. That Friday morning, the courtroom was formal and composed, yet it was clear that this moment marked the culmination of many years of hard work. The man standing there, Somaasundram s/o Sinnathamby, was more than just another petitioner being admitted to the Bar. He was Soma, the boy I have known since Standard One at La Salle.
During my month-long holiday in London in 1996, I made a point of seeking out its theatres, drawn by spellbinding musicals like The Phantom of the Opera, Blood Brothers, Oliver!, Miss Saigon and more. What captivated me, time and again, was the convergence of creative energy, brilliant collaboration, and the art of storytelling brought to life through music, lights, and heart. The moment the curtain rises, something shifts. Live performance, in its immediacy, propels you almost instantaneously into another realm.