George Town, Penang: What the Kids on a Bicycle Taught Me About Traveling at 40

Little Children on a Bicycle: A Trip to Penang on My 40th Year

The Two Children on a Bicycle mural captures a fleeting moment frozen in time, yet it stands amid a city that keeps moving, reflecting both the timeless charm and constant change of George Town.

The two children on a bicycle look like they’re about to speed out of the wall and into the narrow street, leaving me behind. I’m standing in front of it in the heat of a Penang morning, watching tourists take turns posing with the kids. Some are playful, others are self-conscious, but all are wanting to be part of a picture with them. Painted by Lithuanian artist Ernest Zacharevic in 2012 and featuring a real, vintage bicycle bolted beneath it, the mural has become one of George Town’s most photographed icons.

Sometimes, you go where your heart tells you; most of the time, you go where your savings account can take you. Helping run a growing school really takes a demanding toll both on your physical energy and headspace, not to mention your wallet. Before the pandemic, I aimed for places big and dramatic for my 40th year—say, a backpacking jaunt from Mexico to Panama, a week on an isolated island in Fiji, or basically any trip that screams “midlife statement.” And while I spent a week of my 40th birth month in Japan (a country I finally visited after 18 years of dreaming), all other dream destinations remain a dream. At least, for now.

Now I’m back in Malaysia, a country I’ve visited a few times before: first, a weekend in Kota Kinabalu, Sabah, then a rushed half-day tour of Kuala Lumpur while our cruise ship was in port at Port Klang, and an almost day-long layover again in Kuala Lumpur six years later. I realized recently that aside from the first trip, I’ve never really stayed long enough in Malaysia to give it its due. This time, I’m treating it not as a stopover country, but the destination itself.

For this trip, I’m in a city I’ve never set foot in before, simply because the cheapest tickets brought me here. But rather than see this trip as a step-down, I prefer to see this as stepping again into the independent and curious traveler in me. In the spirit of my YOLO days back in the 2010s, I will let the streets lead me where they want, and allow the journey to unfurl in ways that harken back to those earlier adventures—free and open to whatever surprises lie around each corner.

I don’t yet realize it, but the Two Children on a Bicycle will come to reflect exactly why I made this journey.

A Brief History of Penang and George Town

Seh Tek Tong Cheah Kongsi, the first of Penang’s Chinese clan houses, served as social and cultural connections for immigrant Chinese communities in George Town.

Once a bustling wet market, Campbell Street Market still anchors daily life in George Town.

The intersection of Chulia Street and Jln Masjid Kapitan Keling shows the living streetscape and diversity of faiths and communities in George Town.

Though their future is increasingly uncertain, trishaws remain a charming reminder of George Town’s heritage streets.

Modern Penang began in the late 18th century, when Francis Light of the British East India Company took possession of the island in 1786. At that time, Penang was sparsely populated, with Malay fishing villages along the coast and traders occasionally stopping by. Light’s decision to establish a free port here proved transformative. Within years, Penang attracted merchants from across Asia and Europe, drawn by the prospect of tax-free trade. This influx laid the foundation for its cosmopolitan identity.

George Town, named after Britain’s King George III, became the beating heart of this new entrepôt. The streets are filled with Chinese clan houses, Indian Muslim mosques, Malay kampungs, and colonial mansions—all standing within walking distance of each other. Over time, this eclectic mix of people and architecture gave George Town its multiethnic character, where cultural boundaries blur yet remain distinct. Walking its lanes today, I can feel the texture of this past.

The 19th century was Penang’s golden age as a trading hub. Opium, spices, tin, and textiles passed through its port, while migrants from southern China and the Indian subcontinent settled and reshaped the city. Their influence can still be seen in places like Little India, with its sari shops and curry houses, or in the ornate clan jetties along the waterfront. This meeting of cultures also produced uniquely Penangite food traditions, with Peranakan cuisine, nasi kandar, and hawker dishes combining Chinese, Malay, and Indian flavors.

By the early 20th century, however, Penang’s prominence waned as Singapore eclipsed it as the British Empire’s primary port in the region. Yet this relative decline also meant George Town avoided the wholesale modernization that erased much of Singapore’s old quarters. Its shophouses, temples, and colonial architecture endured, weathering the Japanese occupation during World War II and the turbulence of independence. In 2008, George Town’s historic center was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site, ensuring its preservation for future generations.

Chasing The Trails of George Town’s Street Art

Umbrella Alley’s bursts of color add to George Town’s creative energy and Instagram appeal.

Ernest Zacharevic’s Kids on a Trishaw combines mural and installation, turning everyday objects into playful street art.

Created by artist Louis Gan, the ‘Children on a Swing’ mural is one of George Town’s most beloved street art pieces.

The bus from the Penang International Airport drops me off at Komtar, the towering 1970s landmark that was once the pride of Penang modernity. But rather than linger in the air conditioned comforts of the mall or stop at one of the fast food restaurants, I quickly walk under the Penang sun into George Town’s historic streets, making my way toward Armenian Street.

It doesn’t take long for the scenery to change. The glass-and-concrete bulk of Komtar fades into rows of colonial-era shophouses, their wooden shutters open like sleepy eyes in the late morning sun. Armenian Park, with its shaded walkways and playground, provides a momentary respite from the oppressive heat. I wonder briefly what the name means. Armenians were never a large community in Penang, but their presence has been written into the palimpsest of the city, with traces left behind in a park and a street.

I feel overwhelmed, unsure of what to take in first, so I do what I often do when I first arrive at a foreign place: take as many pictures as I can. I pass by Umbrella Street, whose rainbow canopy of parasols suspended overhead immediately catch my attention, while the alleys are punctuated by murals I’ve seen countless times in travel blogs and Instagram feeds but am now standing in front of.

Souvenir shops tempt me with magnets, shirts, and trinkets, but I resist for now, promising myself I’ll return before heading home. For now, I let myself wander.

My check-in isn’t until 1 p.m., so I dip into the city instead, following wherever the narrow lanes take me. Along the way, I stumble upon the familiar cast of George Town’s street art: the boy on a motorbike, the children on a swing, the boys frozen mid-game on a basketball court.

And, of course, the Two Children on a Bicycle. Here, the crowd is the thickest. A steady queue has formed, each person waiting their turn to complete the picture: hands outstretched as if pushing the bike, crouching to pose beside the kids, or standing awkwardly to one side. I wait too, angling myself for a gap.

The murals themselves are ordinary by today’s standards. They’re not hyper-detailed, or subversive the way street art has since become in other cities. But people still want to place themselves into these scenes, to take home a photo of something that, in itself, while beautiful, isn’t spectacular. Mainly it maybe the hype. But maybe it’s also because the murals are less about the art than about the experience of becoming part of a story rather than just a witness of an image. And in a city like George Town—and Malaysia in general—perhaps that’s exactly the point.

At just after noon, having had my fill of George Town’s street art, I duck into a noodle shop near my hotel and have a bowl of dry curry noodle soup.

Afternoon Wanderings: From the Blue Mansion to Fort Cornwallis and the Peranakan Mansion

The moats of Fort Cornwallis recall George Town’s early days as a British settlement, with its star-shaped defenses and surrounding waterway symbolizing the colonial ambition to secure Penang as a vital trading post.

Built in 1897 to commemorate Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee, the 60-foot clock tower reflects both Penang’s colonial legacy, with each foot representing a year of her reign.

The Pinang Peranakan Mansion’s lavish interiors highlight the fusion of Chinese, Malay, and European influences that defined Peranakan culture.

After a brief rest at my hotel, I step back out into the afternoon heat with a plan to see the Blue Mansion up close. But when I arrive, I find that all the guided tour tickets for the day are already sold out. A bit disappointed but not defeated, I decide to keep walking.

My detour takes me all the way to Fort Cornwallis, the old British bastion by the sea. If Intramuros in Manila tells the story of Spanish rule, Fort Cornwallis does the same for Penang’s British chapter. Low laterite walls and cannons face out toward the harbor, relics of a colonial outpost that never actually saw battle but still managed to etch itself into the island’s story.

Inside the fort, plaques and small exhibits recount how Light, the East India Company’s man on the ground, first staked Britain’s claim here in the late 18th century. The place feels more symbolic than military, a staging post for trade and governance rather than a fortress bracing for war. I can almost picture the early settlers, soldiers, and merchants looking out across the Straits of Malacca, waiting for ships heavy with goods to come into view.

Today, the fort is more park than garrison. Families wander the open grounds, children climbing on cannons that once guarded Penang’s shore, while tourists pause for photos against brick arches and the skeletal outline of old barracks. Men in uniform gather just outside its walls, preparing for some event to take place, perhaps in the evening.

From the fort, I head south along the waterfront to the Queen Victoria Memorial Clocktower, a whitewashed tribute built in 1897 to mark the queen’s Diamond Jubilee. Its tiers lean ever so slightly, the result of a Japanese air raid decades later, and now it stands as one of those imperfect but iconic city landmarks.

Further south, I duck into a branch of Zus Coffee, a Malaysian brand that’s been popping up everywhere in Metro Manila. The cool blast of air-conditioning and a strong iced latte are enough to buy me a few moments of comfort before I head back out.

Revived, I make my way out of the main highway toward the Pinang Peranakan Mansion, where the food tour I will be joining is set to start in less than an hour. The mansion is a pastel-green house museum that once belonged to a 19th-century Chinese tycoon. It provides a window into the world of the Peranakans, or Straits Chinese, a community born from centuries of intermarriage between Chinese settlers and local Malays. Their culture is a unique fusion: Chinese traditions mixed with Malay influences, seen in everything from their intricate beadwork and porcelain collections to the ornate timber carvings that frame each doorway.

Walking through the mansion, the interiors feel almost theatrical. Rooms are decked in antique furniture, featuring delicate porcelain, embroidered textiles, and brassware that glints under soft lighting. It’s easy to get lost in the details of the hand-painted tiles that line the floors, the latticed windows that frame the garden, and the private quarters that speak to a lifestyle of both practicality and refined taste. This was a culture that valued ceremony, hospitality, and the artistry of daily life, a sensibility that continues to flavor Penang’s cuisine, festivals, and architecture today.

Back outside the mansion, I meet the other participants for our food tour, along with our guide Grace Lim. Having my fill of Penang’s art and history for today, I’m ready to dig into its legendary cuisine.

Another Day of Penang Flavors

The classic Penang breakfast of kaya toast, soft-boiled egg, and sweet white coffee are staples of the Straits Chinese culinary tradition.

Char kway teow—stir-fried flat rice noodle dish, loaded with shrimp, bean sprouts, and soy sauce—is a fusion of Chinese, Malay, and Indian flavors.

Served at Laksa Mana, a bowl of asam laksa showcases the city’s love for bold, sour-spicy flavors and the culinary creativity of its Peranakan heritage.

The next morning, I set out for Penang Hill. But as if last night’s food coma from the tour isn’t enough, I first need to have breakfast.

I stop at Gala House, a café not far from the Blue Mansion (I tried my luck again, but it’s too early in the day for tours). My order is simple but classic: kaya toast—pillowy bread spread with coconut jam and butter—and a cup of white coffee, smooth and sweet. I learned it’s a calorie bomb, but hey, you haven’t had a Malaysian breakfast until you’ve had kaya toast with white coffee.

By the time I return from Penang Hill to George Town in the midafternoon, I’m famished. Near Kimberley Street, I squeeze into a small noodle stall for a plate of char kway teow. The smoky aroma that comes from high-heat stir-frying is immediate. After my order is cooked, I’m served a plateful of flat rice noodles that glisten with soy, shrimp, and bean sprouts. It’s both comfort food and culinary heritage.

Dinner finds me in Chulia Street at Laksa Mana, a modern and stylish restaurant with modern curvy lines and immaculate white walls. There, I order a bowl of asam laksa, the tamarind-laced noodle soup that’s one of Penang’s culinary signatures. Sour, spicy, and fragrant with fish broth and herbs, it’s a bold punctuation that ends the day.

Walking the Clan Jetties of Penang

Red lanterns hang above an incense bowl at the edge of Chew Jetty, where visitors take snapshots against the backdrop of mainland Penang.

Tan Jetty offers a quieter, more intimate glimpse of George Town’s waterfront communities.

Lim Jetty presents a serene corner of George Town that preserves everyday life along the waterfront.

The next morning, I join a biking tour through Balik Pulau’s countryside. By lunch, I’m back in George Town, and in the afternoon, I explore the Clan Jetties. These wooden waterfront settlements, built by Chinese immigrant clans in the 19th century, are part of the city’s UNESCO heritage listing. They’re reminders that George Town isn’t just frozen in colonial architecture or painted onto muraled walls, but still home to various communities.

I begin at Chew Jetty, the largest of the jetties. Founded by members of the Chew clan, many of whom came from the Fujian province of China, this jetty is traditionally associated with port laborers and tradesmen. Today, it’s also the most famous and commercialized of all Penang’s jetties. Crowds shuffle along its planks, weaving between stalls selling souvenirs, snacks, and cold drinks. Red lanterns swing overhead, cameras click, and the whole place feels like a marketplace built atop the sea. Despite the maddening frenzy, some families still live here, maintaining the old wooden houses.

A short walk away, the Tan and Lim Jetties offer a contrast. In each neighborhood, the pace slows. The shops thin out, replaced by wooden homes where laundry flutters in the breeze and cats laze on doorsteps. The air is quieter and more intimate, reminding one that these are not just attractions but fragile, stilted communities that have withstood both time and tide.

The jetties together paint two sides of the same picture: one sees the potential in tourism and modernity, embracing it and reshaping its identity around it, while the other resists fully selling out, choosing instead to hold on to tradition and a sense of privacy. In their own way, all are still part of George Town’s story, a story of negotiation between past and present, much like our own lives.

Life doesn’t have to be about choosing between what was then and what is now: if we choose so, both can define who we are. The important thing is to carry the lessons and joys of our past so that they shape a future that honors all parts of ourselves.

Bicycle Kids Stay, I Move On: My Last Full Day in Penang

The famous mural of two children on a bicycle by Ernest Zacharevic has become a must-stop spot in George Town, often doubling as a stage for visitors to create their own little stories.

On my last day in Penang, I cross to the mainland in the morning to wander around Bukit Mertajam, the quieter counterpart to George Town. By noon I’m back at the port, returning to the island for one final, slower afternoon. On the walk back to my hotel, I pass by the familiar scene of Two Children on a Bicycle. The crowd in front of the mural is smaller now, just a handful of people waiting their turn. I don’t stop for another photo, but I slow down long enough to watch them.

Still halfway between the history of the wall painted over and the street that keeps changing, Bicycle Kids is George Town in miniature—caught in motion and alive in the present moment, without letting go of the history that frames them and the youthfulness in which they’re frozen.

In a way, it reflects where I am now. Back in my 20s and 30s, most of my journeys were a sprint toward proving something to others or even to myself. Country counts, bucket lists, itineraries, and laptop work squeezed in from hotel balconies and cafés. That was the brand I sought for myself: a global digital nomad. I treasure those years, but I’m not so wistfully nostalgic that I’d trade where I am now for another run at it. (Besides, AI has made the freelance hustle harder than ever.)

I love where I am now, and like these kids on a bike, I’m frozen in the present. But the traveler in me is still grateful for these little detours from the world I’ve rooted myself in. These trips last just long enough to let me feel a different world and to refill whatever parts of me that have been running on empty. Such trips give me that renewed energy I carry back home to carry my responsibilities more effectively until the next adventure calls.

That is where the difference lies. Bicycle Kids are stuck in Penang. I, on the other hand, have the chance to move toward whatever comes next.

George Town, Penang Travel Basics

Timing

George Town is warm year-round, but the dry season from December to March is the most comfortable for wandering the streets without melting.
April to August is hotter and more humid, but crowds thin out a bit.
September to November can bring heavier rains, though they often come in short bursts. Pack an umbrella, just in case.

Access

By Air: Penang International Airport (PEN) is about 16 km from George Town. It has direct flights from Kuala Lumpur, Singapore, Bangkok, and several other Southeast Asian cities.
From Kuala Lumpur:
- Flight – around 1 hour, usually the fastest option. MYR 70–200 one-way.
- Train + Ferry – Take the ETS train from KL Sentral to Butterworth (around 4 hours, MYR 60–100), then hop on the ferry to George Town (around 15 minutes, MYR 2; cashless basis only—debit cards, credit cards, or mobile payment apps).
- Bus – 5–6 hours from KL’s TBS terminal to Sungai Nibong, then a short Grab or bus ride into town. MYR 35–50 one-way.

Transportation

George Town’s UNESCO Heritage Core is compact and best explored on foot.
Bicycle (MYR 10-15 per day) and e-scooter (MYR 30-40 per day) rentals are easy to find, and cycling fits the city’s laid-back vibe (just keep an eye on traffic).
Grab cars are affordable and widely used for short hops outside the historic center, especially if you’re heading to places like Penang Hill or Gurney Drive. A short ride costs MYR 6–12, while a ride from the airport to George Town sets you back MYR 25–35.
The Free CAT Bus is a free shuttle service looping around the heritage area and key attractions. It’s a good option when your feet need a break.

Accommodation

The Terraces by Aayu is a great budget-friendly stay right in the heart of George Town. The rooms are private, simple but comfortable. The location is excellent—within walking distance of Love Lane, street art, and many must-see spots. MYR 80–150 per night.
The Cheong Fatt Tze Mansion (The Blue Mansion) is a unique architectural gem. This heritage hotel doubles as a museum and offers guided tours of its striking indigo-blue interior and antique-filled rooms. It’s ideal for those who want lodging and living history in one. MYR 450–700 per night for boutique rooms.
The Eastern & Oriental Hotel is Penang’s grand dame, beloved for its refined colonial décor, elegant service, and prime location. Opened in the late 19th century and fully restored in the early 2000s, it remains one of George Town’s most iconic seafront accommodations. MYR 600–900 per night, depending on suite type.

Food

George Town’s food scene is legendary, and part of the fun of traveling here is stumbling upon a hawker stall or kopitiam (coffee shop) serving something unforgettable. Some of the best hawker stalls set up shop in Kimberley Street and Chulia Street in the evening.
Laksa Mana serves Penang’s iconic asam laksa (tangy and fragrant soup with mackerel, tamarind, and fresh herbs) in a chic and modern setting. A must-try if you want a deep dive into the flavors that made Penang famous.
Gala House is a stylish café-restaurant offering hearty pastas, pizzas, and fusion plates in a laid-back setting. Great for when you want a break from street food without sacrificing flavor.
Wheeler’s in Love Lane is a perennial favorite with both locals and travelers, serving everything from all-day breakfasts to pastas, pizzas, and Asian fusion. It’s casual, consistent, and well-placed for a meal before or after exploring Love Lane.

The Tourist Gaze