I think I know what's wrong: I'm missing the Thais. The pollution, the rubbish in the streets, the traffic jams, the whole disorganized mess - it never mattered to me because the people were just beautiful. They would catch your eye and instantly give a smile brighter than Hollywood could manufacture. I remember having dinner outdoors at Lumpini Park in Bangkok. This is a night market but it has some great permanent restaurants with classy decor. Not exactly champagne ice buckets but not far from it. Janet and I were being served by some Thai kids, probably college students working at nights at this restaurant when two big German tourists wandered in. The Thais were so sweet and waied respectfully, however the tourists looked around, ignored the Thais who were offering peace and respect (as you do when you wai someone), gave a look as if they were being invited to inspect garbage and moved their big hulks out of there. One of the Thai girls twisted around to face us, put her hand up to her mouth and giggled. That's how they cope - they try to find delight in this world, and that's what I miss for the people of Penang I've passed by, do not engage with us in any way. We don't exist and we don't relate and we don't matter. Somehow, I feel it more on this visit to the East. Maybe we'll get it back in Cambodia and Vietnam in coming weeks.

Penang is a great island but inhabited by Thais, it is not. About 65% of the population are Chinese, the remainder is then mainly Malays but a healthy percentage are from India. Malaysian schoolchildren have to learn three languages: Mandarin, Malay and English. Malay is not so hard, many words are just a corruption of their English equivalents. For example, you hail a teksi from your hotel and you avoid the polis because 90% of them are supposedly corrupt. I'm sitting in my hotel room underneath an arrow nailed to the ceiling above me. This is where the translation fails me for it says OIBLAT - possibly obligation - for it points to Mecca so Islamic guests know where to face during their daily prayer sessions. My carton of fruit drink has zero kolesterol but 25 g of karbohidrat.

Today, we went by a small tourist bus to various temples, buddhas, pagodas and indeterminate places of worship. I loved the monks chanting, the temple gongs, the joss stick smells and the overall richness, but I was more impressed by nature's display from the top of Penang Peak, some 650 metres up and cloud-shrouded. This cool tropical garden is reached by funicular rail, the trip taking 30 minutes. We are watched by monkeys in the jungle trees as we ascend to the vantage points where much of Penang lies beneath. That was some view!

The minibus driver, the other male passenger (an Indian who has lived in Massachusetts for 30 years) and I were the three men in this bus today. All of us Type II diabetics. The Indian family were delightful people and they had their 25-year old daughter with them. She's a twin, the one suffering from cerebral palsy; the other daughter is doing her Master's at university.

Later, Janet and I went shopping together for some new feet. We found a pedicure shop at an up-market centre where there were basically only rich Chinese wandering around, all talking to each other on their mobile phones. For the first time in her life, Janet had a pedicure treatment that lasted for 90 minutes, topped off by having her toenails painted pearl pink. She must have checked how beautiful her feet looked every 10 paces for the rest of the night.

Having survived the double rat drama yesterday, Janet is now ready for the butterfly farm tomorrow, the pedicure girls assuring her that the insects do not actually bite. Nevertheless, Janet is so jumpy that anything bigger than a postage stamp will startle her if it moves suddenly or creates a sharp sound. Try it when you next see her.