So, this afternoon, I sang at the Penang Street Market - sort of the monthly village fete, in which a street in Georgetown is taken over by stalls selling all manner of wonderful local arts and crafts, and there’s a marquee with live performances from local bands.

R had asked me to join him and his sons during their set; and it was a lot of fun, doing ‘Little Sunflower’ and ‘Route 66′ with the three of them, and then singing more songs with just R.

It was increeeeeeedibly hot and humid, and I was sweating buckets - always attractive, I find - but it was great to end my time in Penang this way. (Performing in Georgetown that is, not sweating buckets). And as I sang, and chatted to the crowd in between songs, it also made me realise how far I’ve come. Because I think I did a good job. Singing in the daytime, to a crowd of ‘regular’ people, suddenly seemed a little scary - it felt like I was performing at a festival - but I didn’t let my nerves get in the way. Instead, I let my inner, secretly confident performer persona come out (as I write that, I realise that it sounds strange: don’t most people have a secretly unconfident persona inside them?), and this persona is at once happy and secure in her ability to sing, and to communicate with people. She talks confidently, and sings well, and most importantly: cracks gags which people laugh at. It’s a strange mixture of being utterly, truly myself and yet simultaneously standing outside of myself, almost watching myself half-incredulously at how I’m being… and yet knowing that I’m being my true self. If that makes any sense. Maybe I’m just surprised at seeing myself being able to do that. Hmm.

After the market, T, C and I returned to the hotel, where I packed up my final bits and bobs, settled my bill (approximately 25% of which consisted, alarmingly, of one single phone call), and popped back into the jazz club to give E a few things which otherwise would have been thrown out, such as mosquito spray, suncream and honey (which pretty much sums up my time here). She was there rehearsing with one of her two (count ‘em!) trios; and so that involved me saying goodbye all over again to a few people, who were surprised to see me again after last night. I walked in shouting, “I’ve changed my mind!”.

And then, T and C drove us to Ipoh - and I sit here in their family home writing this at silly o’clock, when I really should be in bed. T is a nightowl too, so after dinner at an Indian restaurant tonight we sat at his computer talking about life, the universe and everything (or at least: life, the universe and geniuses) and he talked me through the agency work which he wants me to get involved in when I’m back in London. All good stuff.

Earlier in the evening, I spent a fair amount of time hangin’ - and we were definitely hangin’ - with T and C’s seven-year-old daughter, H (they also have a very cute, very smiley, one year-something son). H is fantastic, and I may try to instigate a penpal-ship between her and my eight-year-old niece. Well, they both do ballet, and they’re both fans of High School Musical, so I think it could work out…

I did take some final photographs of Penang, and of T and C and co, today - but as it’s now half-past silly o’clock, I’ll wait til tomorrow to upload and link to them. Well, a secretly confident performer persona needs her inner beauty sleep, you know. Nighty night.

My final view of Penang:

I am soooo tired. But I have to shower, pack (I didn’t really get much further than this yesterday), grab some lunch - and then head to the street market in Penang, where I’ll perform with R and his two kids. And then the long drive with T and C back to Ipoh; before spending the night there, and going to KL for the following day and night.

In a way it would have felt right to have ended this blog with last night’s post, of course - but there are still a couple of days of adventures left (including a final night in a hotel which really is just like the one in Lost In Translation, apparently ). So bear with me while I finish this over the next few days. Hopefully I’ll have some good photos to post. And hopefully some vaguely interesting thoughts. Although the former is probably more guaranteed than the latter.

What a fantastic night.

A night of goodbyes and thank yous and hugs and real emotion; a night of life-enhancing music-making; a night which touched me so much, and which made me realise that I had touched others.

The trio played brilliantly; the set list was adapted as people requested songs; I introduced E to the audience as she joined me to sing harmonies on ‘Sentimental Journey’; and vocally, I sounded possibly the best I’ve ever sounded while I’ve been here (which might be: ever).

It was so much fun, and was made all the more special by the presence of friends who had come down for my last night, and by the sentiments I exchanged with them, and the people working in the club - the staff who have shared these nights here with me, night after night, for two months.

I brought them a ginormous chocolate cake to share, and they, very sweetly, gave me this:

- which is both funny, and touching.

I also gave L, D and Y a thank you present of two CDs each: one of a jazz musician who plays their instrument (Roy Haynes, Charlie Haden and Ruben Gonzalez - although the latter isn’t really jazz, admittedly), and the other a jazz vocal album I thought they’d like (Sarah Vaughan for D, Ella & Louis for Y and Cassandra Wilson for L). They all told me at various points in the evening how much they had enjoyed the past few months, and that they would miss me. I of course returned the compliment. And it was particularly heartfelt between L and me; we made a connection about what we were trying to achieve on these gigs, and I know how much he’s enjoyed it.

I took pictures of everyone - see on the right and here - although only realised at the end of the night that I omitted to get any photos of myself with the trio. Which makes me very sad; although in fact it was simply a case of this at work. Which is perhaps no bad thing . And that said, earlier in the day CC had dropped off a photo album he’d made of pictures he took of me and the trio on a gig this week - so heartfelt thanks again, CC. My other leaving present was from T2 and HH, who brought me some Chinese tea from their favourite tea shop on the island. “Do not drink with milk and sugar!” instructed HH, with a wag of her finger.

I had spread the word amongst the musicians I’ve met here that at the end of my set, it it would be fun to carry on the music-making, and turn it into a jazz jam; and sure enough, that’s what we did. D2 (San Francisco guy), CC, S and others got up to play, and I joined them for a few numbers. So much fun, and they sounded so great. I’m envious of E, working with these guys over the next few months.

As I said my goodbyes to everyone, so many sweet things were said. That I would be missed; that I was leaving Penang as a friend; that I’d done a great job - or as HH put it: “You did it. Mission accomplished!”. And there were so many thank yous, both from me and them. The people here have been remarkable; I’ve been shown such warmth and generosity and care, and of course it’s slightly heartbreaking to leave them just as really great friendships were beginning.

On stage, before my last number, I did my Oscars speech and thanked everyone; and said finally how important it was, what T and the hotel are trying to achieve here in setting up this jazz club, and how exciting it is that this great music now has a venue in Penang. And as the guys jammed at the end of the night, T2 - the music-loving American who lives here - said perhaps the most touching thing of anyone. I thanked him for everything, and he said: “No, thank you. Thank you for what you’ve brought to this place. I mean, just look,” he said, waving his hand towards the musicians playing on stage. “All this is happening because of you.”

Which is quite a thought. Thank you, Penang, for everything. It’s been an honour, and a true privilege, to have played here.

…but it will come back to bite you on the bum.

Not really. Little Buddhism gag, there.

Say what you like about Buddhism… but it’s nothing if not a colourful religion. Just take a look at the temples I visited today:

I like that last shot; it makes me think that that’s what a Buddhist temple would look like in Florida.

One of these temples contained a 100ft reclining Buddha -

- which as you can see, is pretty big. Although not as big as the Statue of Liberty (I know, I just looked it up). But then the Americans always have to do things bigger and better, don’t they? I mean, theirs even stands up.

Mind you, I bet there’s not a sign like this on Liberty Island:

So, another jam session today - but this time not with car radio factory workers, but… Well, people who might have all kinds of jobs. But all of them also working musicians.

There’s a Center For Performing Arts in Penang called Areca, and J, a pianist who I’d seen at the club on one of the first nights I was here (his band was playing there before I started) invited me down to a monthly jam session that he and other jazz players hold there every month.

So I went today - together with D2, the jazz pianist from San Francisco. It was a lot of fun, and great to hear D2 play live. You can see some pictures from the afternoon at the top of the set here.

Then this evening, T2 and HH collected me and  D2 (OK, this whole initial thing is getting silly) from the hotel, and we went for dinner at a restaurant in Batu Ferringhi. I had pizza for the first time since I got here, and it wasn’t bad at all. Although, as B would say, pizza’s like sex: even when it’s bad, it’s good.

The reason we went to Batu Ferringhi is that I wanted to reviset the night market V and I went to, and do a burst of present-shopping for friends and family back home. The night market is basically a series of stalls along the side of the road,  stretching for hundreds and hundreds of yards, and selling all manner of things from utter tat (knock-off designer goods, mostly) and pirated DVDs of films still showing in the cinema (mind you, this is probably the only way I’d get to see There Will Be Blood out here) to lovely Malaysian arts and crafts.

So you’re all getting utter tat and pirated DVDs.

It was great to have HH with me as I shopped, as she has haggling (in Chinese) down to a fine art. I learned that the best technique seems to be: tell them how much you’re prepared to pay, listen to them reduce the price to what they’re willing to offer, tell them don’t be silly, that’s not low enough, and then walk off. At which point they shout after you the price you were willing to pay. Works a treat.

I was too busy taking in all the shininess and potential gifts to take any photos of the market, but I did get quite a groovy shot or two earlier in the evening, as night was falling when we arrived:

Batu Ferringhi - it’s the Vegas of Penang! And that’s guarantee!

…that if you get at least two people of any age or nationality in a room together, they will know at least one Beatles song.

I’ve just returned from a fantastically entertaining afternoon, jamming with workers at a car radio factory.

This is my life out here.

TK - a fortysomething regular at the bar, and the person who kindly loaned his driver to show me and V around the island - had told me that he had a music room at his company’s factory here in Penang. “The managers can take music lessons on work time,” he explained. “And every Friday between 4 and 7, we open a few bottles of wine, and have a jam session. We’ve got full recording facilities, guitars, a drum kit and a piano”.

He was right. Except he forgot the cello.

So there I was at their factory and offices this afternoon, which looked liked something out of a 1980s Hollywood movie (possibly Nine To Five?), ie. this:

And after a quick tour, which included seeing various cars kitted out with ridiculously impressive car stereo systems (including one with a DVD player and surround sound. Yes, full cinema surround sound as you sit in the back of a car), we made ourselves at home in the music room. Which looked like this:

Apparently not all the regular, music-making managers were around this afternoon - but there were enough of us to have a very enjoyable session. At least two of the three guys could play several instruments really well - one is even a whizz at bluegrass guitar - and together we played and sang some jazz standards that they knew.

As I sat plonking a few chords (and I was definitely plonking) while I sang, I realised that I’ve never actually played any jazz piano with other people - only alone, at home - and I loved it, even though I was utterly, utterly terrible. It’s inspired me to think of possibly taking jazz piano lessons when I get back. I’ve known for a while how good it would be for my singing; now I know how much fun it would be, too. <Grins>.

And, yes, to return to my initial, scientific fact: the jam session took an even better turn when a Japanese marketing guy picked up a guitar (and how many stories start like that, eh) and began to play and sing the first of many, many Beatles numbers. Eight Days A Week, Norwegian Wood, And I Love Her, Michelle, Blackbird, Get Back, The Long And Winding Road, Here, There And Everywhere… You name it, we played and sang our hearts out to it. It was really quite moving, to be having this much fun with total strangers (actually I can think of quite a few stories which start like that) and I even felt a rare surge of patriotic pride over this music we were making together. “You can say what you like about Britain,” I said at the end, “but it did give the world The Beatles.”

I’ve just uploaded the pictures from another afternoon excursion - this time to a great little cafe/restaurant in Georgetown called Eco Cafe; and then to the Khoo Kongsi, a Chinese clan house in the centre of town.

The Eco Cafe is run by a friend of CC’s, and with its white tiles, pink walls, and old French music being piped out of the speakers, it was a haven of simple food (pasta, sandwiches and salads) done in a nicely laidback, slightly Western, sort of way. We met an American writer who’s boarding there, and the owner - who was happy to let me snap the surroundings (such as here and here), and who proudly showed off his new wood-burning oven, which he had built out of local clay and cow dung. Fancy.

We then went to an exhibition of German photography at CC’s old university - a former army barracks up on a hill (it’s surprising how similar an army barracks is to a campus university, in fact) - and then back into town to see Khoo Kongsi.

Khoo Kongsi looks like a temple - and in fact partly is a temple - but it’s chiefly a clan house, ie. a place where people from the same clan would meet and, erm, do whatever clans do. And it looks something like this:

There are lots more photos taken in and around the Khoo Kongsi here. Most of which are of lanterns inside the hall, or of the houses you pass as you make your way to the courtyard. Such as here:

And here:

Who says that tourists are always looking up?

I had lunch yesterday with A, who collected me from the hotel (honestly, this is how every outing with everybody starts) and took us to Penang Club.

SE Asia is filled with these clubs, it seems - Clubs, Sports Clubs, Swimming Clubs, American Clubs. It’s obviously a throwback to Colonial times; Penang Club was established in 1886. A fact I know because it’s printed on their towelling bathrobes and coasters:

Penang Club has a lovely terrace with a sea view, an outdoor swimming pool and a teeny tiny private beach:

(That’s actually looking back to the area why my hotel is.)

Penang Club is also, it turns out, a wedding venue - and preparations were underway for a service that afternoon for a Dutch couple getting married there. The florist was creating a garlanded archway, and chairs and tables were being set out (see the pictures here). It was all sweetly makeshift and mismatching - blue tablecloths, yellow chairs, a burgundy rug, pink flowers and two strips of red carpet - but the best part was the fact that they were setting all of this up right next to a volleyball net:

“I now pronounce you man and wife… And request that guests please form an orderly line so that the bride and groom may choose their teams.”

CC dropped by the bar last night, and brought with him the negatives and digital versions of the photos I took with the SLR the other day.

The results weren’t too bad - beautifully sharp, if a little over-exposed (it was a very sunny day). But hey, nothing a little iPhoto-ing can’t fix. Almost:

What I noticed most of all when looking at shots like the one above and the one below, here -

- is that, apart from both being of windows, they’re really not so different from the results I can get with my little digital camera. So easily the most satisfying photos I took with the SLR are ones which really use that SLR , if you see what I mean. Like these:

Though the centre of focus is clearly slightly skew-whiff* on that second one.

Anyway, SLR Lesson Number One learned ;-).

More pictures from that afternoon in Georgetown are here.

*Definitely the first time I’ve ever written that word.

I had a phone call last week from N, the elderly jazz singer - and Penang native - who’s come to the bar a few times.

She asked me how I was and so forth, and then after a pause said:

“Andrea…”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering… Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

Bless! It was like being asked out on a date.

So this lunchtime, she came and picked me up from the hotel, and drove us to a little restaurant for lunch. I’d asked if she’d mind it if we had ‘Western food’ (the generic term used over here for any non-Asian/Indian cuisine) because, after five days, my stomach is still Not Quite Right. I’m blaming this.

The restaurant was like a French cafe - all dark wood and red chequered tablecloths. There were clearly a couple of birthdays going on upstairs, because twice, a pre-recorded version of ‘Happy Birthday’ started playing over the sound system. I told N that “that doesn’t happen in Britain” (a phrase which I’m saying a lot over here, I’m finding).

The restaurant do a set lunch with varying main courses, which meant that for £2.50 each we had soup, fish with almonds and vegetables, a small creme caramel-style dessert made from coconut milk, and coffee. Or in my case, tea. This is almost, but not quite, as good as the vegetarian dinner for two that V and I enjoyed, for £1.50. Between us.

The food was a bit school dinner-ish, but it was fun to see the place and to spend some time with N, who I would guess is in her mid 70s now but still ridiculously glamorous, with her dyed black hair, painted eyebrows and funky glasses. She was wearing a lovely white blouse and linen trousers, accessorised with red shoes and a red bag (and red painted lips). In fact, as we stepped out of the car, I noticed that we were sporting exactly the same colour scheme, only in reverse:

For truly, we are jazz sisters.