I didn’t stay in last night and watch Night At The Museum. Instead, I went out to explore and to get something to eat. Foraging, if you will.

Remember that scene in Lost In Translation where Scarlett Johansson goes out walking through the streets of Tokyo alone, just sort of quietly drifting through this alien environment? This should jog your memory, although I don’t remember her turning to camera and smiling at any point:

Anyway, that’s the LiT moment I had last night.

Just 100 yards from the hotel, there’s a tarmaced area which houses a whole load of food stalls - or ‘food hawkers’, as they’re known. I’d been down to see this place a couple of times before: the first time, at around 5pm I think, when it was pretty quiet; and then again one lunchtime, when it was very quiet. Because they were all closed.

So, realising that the best time to go to this place was probably the evening, I went down there last night. And this was the scene that greeted me:

It was unbelivable. Absolutely rammed with hundreds and hundreds of people, all eating out (or eyeing me suspiciously. I can see you, woman in red!). It was part funfair, part beer garden minus the beer and plus lots of food. Clearly this is what Malaysians - or at least Penangites - do for dinner: they go out to eat with friends, family or presumably work colleagues at one of these street food places, gathering together round rickety old tables on little plastic chairs (the people, not the tables).

The choice of food was similarly incredible - although I really need to revisit this place with someone who can actually tell me what most of the dishes consist of. Because, as the sign below proves, a translation into the roman alphabet doesn’t help much if you still don’t know what ‘Koay Teow Th’ng’ means in the first place:

That said, some stalls were more obvious:

Thoroughly confused by what I could and couldn’t eat, I ended up by opting for what looked like stir-fried noodles with prawn, being made fresh in a giant wok by a man who looked about 80. Or was that a giant man with a wok which looked about 80? Either way, it tasted amazing and looked like this (foreground only. I’m not a pig):

Looking for a soft drink to wash it down with, I was intrigued by this sign:

And the further explanation in this sign:

Yes, salt plus fat may equal flavour, but sugar plus lime equals… no, not Sprite, but ‘Sugar Cane Special’! Which is made by following the method below.

Step 1: Cut a hole in the box. Chop your sugar cane:

Step 2: Put it in your slicer-masher-blender-thingummy:

Step 3: Pull out the mashed-up sugar cane from the machine:

Step 4: Repeat steps 1 and 2 until enough of this mixture is produced:

Step 5: Sieve this mixture and add freshly squeezed limes and ice (step unfortunately out of shot).

Step 6a: Drink whilst wandering around, Scarlett Johansson-like, through the crowds. (Optional Step 6b: Photograph own hand):

There are more pictures from my night out eating prawns and drinking pure sugar here on Flickr. I walked the entire length of Gurney Drive and beyond into Georgetown, where I ended up watching a fantastically cheesy covers band for a short while (I think I left after ‘Smooth Operator’) before taking a taxi back - through the window of which I took this shot…

…which is, of course, my favourite of the whole night.

(Or should that be ‘My life as a film: The sequel’?)

Just heard back from the Apple place, and my Macbook is, indeed, dead. Or to use the technical term the assistant used: “Completely fried”.

It turns out that Penang is currently bereft of 13″ white Macbooks - how do these people cope? - and the earliest I may get one is Friday.

Until then, I’ll have to make do with blogging and emailing down here in the ‘business centre’ and it’s exTREEEEME! air-conditioned environment.  Brrrrr.

Well, officially it’s not dead yet. But it is in intensive care, and I’m not holding out much hope. *Sniff*.

I spilt a bottle of water on it last night. Or perhaps I spilled it. I’m not sure. All I know is that the end result, after trying to dry it off, is that it powered down in my arms.

(And yes, I know how stupid I am. Trust me: I’ve learned my lesson this time.)

I dropped it off at Penang’s main Apple reseller/service provider earlier today - and now I’m waiting for their diagnosis.

<Cut to Andrea pacing up and down a hotel corridor, nervously dragging on a cigarette>

<Cut to Andrea realising she doesn’t smoke, and stubbing out said cigarette>

This does, as our American cousins would say, suck. Partly because I can no longer blog/email from the comfort of my own room/dinner table/swimming pool (I’m speaking to you from the little ‘business centre’ at the hotel, which is actually just two PCs and a printer - but hey, at least they’re always free); and partly because my Macbook was also my telephone.

But it mainly sucks, of course, because I fear it will cost me a fortune to have it repaired, or worse still, buy a new one. That said, I’ve just checked my insurance with the Musicians Union and it does cover accidental damage to equipment (my Macbook is counted as a tool of my trade… I hope)  - which is fortunate, because Apple Care doesn’t. And while we’re looking on the bright side: being a canny girl, I do have all my files, accounts, etc backed up onto a spare hard drive - and having my iPod Video and speaker dock means that I’m not, fortunately, sans music.

Fingers crossed it can be repaired; and/or that my insurance covers it; and/or that I don’t have to fork out for a brand new one. That’s a lot of fingers, admittedly. But here’s hoping.

In the meantime, I’ll keep blogging, either from here or an internet cafe. But apologies in the meantime if I don’t respond to emails as swiftly as usual; or if you don’t get Skyped, either. Believe me, I’m far more upset about this than you are ;-).