In July 2026, a mother returned to Penang, Malaysia, with her three children and Australian husband for their first visit, hoping to immerse them in the places of their grandparents' stories. But the trip took an unexpected turn as she realised the children were more interested in shopping and swimming than in heritage lectures.
A humid homecoming
Stepping out of Penang international airport, the humidity hit like peering into a just-opened rice cooker, with air carrying whiffs of exhaust fumes, fried food and something earthy. The writer, born in Penang and lived there for six years before moving to Australia, felt it thrilling and familiar. Her children, however, were draped over their suitcases like wilted lettuce.
It had been 13 years since her last visit, when her father hosted a lavish wedding dinner with a champagne fountain and swan-shaped ice sculpture for her and her new husband. For her white, Australian husband, it was a trip of firsts: his first Chinese tea ceremony, his first 10-course banquet, and the first time he met her extended family. For her, it was the last time she'd spoken Mandarin and the last time she saw her grandmother before she died.
Hoping for epiphanies
As her parents grew older, she worried her Chinese heritage would be lost forever. Her children spoke only English and spent Saturdays playing sport rather than attending Mandarin lessons and calligraphy classes like she had. When Gong Gong (maternal grandfather) spoke of his childhood, the children smiled indulgently but thought he was exaggerating about his only toy being a discarded bicycle tyre and sharing one apple with five siblings.
The writer wanted to bring her children to Penang to immerse them in the places of their grandparents' stories. Her father, who lives in Perth but travels frequently, booked his flight the night she floated the idea.
Exploring George Town
On the first morning, her father met them at the hotel in central George Town. Gazing at the gleaming marble floors and wood panelling of the Eastern & Oriental Hotel, he said: "When I was young, I never dared to set foot in this hotel. Only rich Europeans stayed here." Now they were the rich tourists – a fact that made her feel guilty and grateful.
The trip began gently, letting the children luxuriate in an air-conditioned mall before venturing out to explore George Town on foot. "It's not every day you get to walk through a Unesco world heritage site," she chirped, but the heat was intense and their interest in colonial architecture and street art evaporated in the afternoon sun.
In the evening, her father led their search for dinner through a labyrinth of alleyways. At the first restaurant, there were no free seats and the air was sulfurously pungent from a nearby durian stall. In the second, smoke from the satay grill triggered her daughter's asthmatic cough. Finally, they found a place that dished up barbecued pork on springy egg noodles coated in sticky soy sauce, which they fell upon in a frenzy.
Visiting the childhood home
Towards the end of the trip, they visited her father's childhood home in Tanjung Bungah, a suburb on the island's north. The children scowled from the backseat, with the 10-year-old hissing "When can we go shopping?" and the toddler pleading to return to the hotel's infinity pool. Undeterred, her father stopped by a truck piled high with coconuts, where a shirtless man used a machete to hack one open and stuck a plastic straw in it.
They stopped at a small weatherboard house with a red tin roof, empty and neglected but still holding her father's key. The electrical wiring was exposed, the concrete floor gouged with holes, and there were no ceilings; sunlight filtered through holes in the roof. The toilet was outside. The entire house was smaller than their two hotel rooms.
When she asked how all eight of them fit in the tiny house, her father corrected her: "Fourteen. With my grandparents, three uncles and one aunty."
Letting go of expectations
Back at the hotel, her father urged her to take the children for a swim instead of being disappointed. She realised she'd expected too much of them; what child could resist leaping into cool water on a muggy day or lying on a sun lounger eating ice-cream? She stopped lecturing them about gratitude and privilege, and they enjoyed their final days doing as Penang locals do: shopping and eating.
The trip did not, as she had hoped, inspire epiphanies in the children about their heritage or their grandparents' early struggles. Perhaps these will dawn on them as they grow up. For now, it was enough that they shared some experiences from her earliest memories – sweltering in tropical humidity and sitting on red plastic stools, slurping noodles. And their Gong Gong had hugged them goodbye in a hotel lobby where he'd once believed he did not deserve to step foot.
