Unexpected Malaysia: My days in Melaka

‘You’re serious?  I can eat this with my hands?  No spoon, no fork, no chopsticks?’  A wicked grin split my face.  ‘Awesome.’  Here I was sitting at an Indian restaurant in Malaysia, a country I never expected to go to in the first place.  From day one my trip had morphed from one itinerary to another.  First I was going to Taiwan, then I wasn’t, then I was.  Then I planned to hop a flight to Bangkok but my credit card didn’t work with the airline that plied that route so I had to head to Singapore instead.  That prompted me to look for alternative routes to Bangkok.  A search on Google brought up a website with the intriguing idea of taking a train which happened to stop in the capital of Malaysia, Kuala Lumpur.  Then, because it was cheaper I ended up taking a bus, and not to Kuala Lumpur like first planned but Melaka, a place recommended by some people I had run in to.

So there I was in Melaka with a giant portion of rice sitting on a fresh banana leaf, curry sitting to one side.  ‘Really?’ I asked one last time.  The waiter shrugged and went off to another table that was waving at him.  I looked around cautiously.  Yep, everyone else was doing it…’when in Rome’, as the saying goes.

Melaka, Malaysia.  The locals say that if you haven’t been there you haven’t really been to Malaysia and I can see, or rather feel, why.  It’s not that the town has memorable memorials, or spectacular sights, or even spectacular food.  It’s the town itself.

Nestled on the Southwestern coast of Malaysia, Melaka was once a great trading power during the 15^th and 16^th century, until the British got a hold of it and let it deteriorate to help the power of their other holdings, mainly Singapore.  In its prime hundreds of ships at a time parked themselves around the small harbor and peddled their wares to the dozens of countries represented there.  As you walk around the small town you can still feel their presence.

It’s hard to really bring up any special stories about the four days I spent wandering the streets of Melaka (rather 3 with the other day being me coming and going).  Stronger then any specific memory is more the atmosphere of the place.

After the hustle and bustle of Singapore stepping into Melaka was almost like wading into molasses.  The town didn’t stir before 8am and there seemed to be a mandatory tea time around 3pm as the sun hit its hottest point.  No one walked fast but the cars seemed to be out for blood.  No careless crossing of streets lest ye become a permanent addition to the city.

Breakfast was a relaxing sit at the corner café munching on banana roti, (a soft doughy bread) sipping tea and watching the world go by cooled by a gentle morning wind.  Lunch, usually some sort of curry at an Indian restaurant eaten off a banana leaf with my hands.  Dinner, well, there were enough Chinese places around on the street to spice things up.

There are a few things that come to mind that just have to be said about Melaka.

If you are ever looking for an adventure in hostels in Malaysia I would highly recommend a dorm bed at the Eastern Heritage Guesthouse.  At 10 ringit ($3US) it is everything you paid for.  Climbing up to the third floor where the prison style beds were set out at equal intervals around a room the resembled an attic I had to wonder, what am I doing?

You could say the place had, um, what’s it, yeah, character…  So much character that I don’t think I will ever be able to forget that hostel.  I’m sure at some future point I will experience a more memorable hostel, but for now Eastern Heritage takes the cake.

Don’t get me wrong.  The sheets were clean, there weren’t any bed bugs, and it was safe, but…yeah.  The bathroom area (only 1 shower for the entire building, one toilet as well with no toilet paper) had a giant window, or rather balcony, which afforded a great view of the local neighborhood.  It was also a great place to sit and watch a lightning storm that came through that night at around 3am.  That same storm ended up dowsing the town in wave after wave of rain which sounded like little hammers on the tin roof that protected the dorm.  Not so good for sleep or for health as the window slates around the corners let in a fine mist which gifted me with a pleasant cold.

The staff was friendly and helpful (when you could understand them) but only to a certain point.  A decent last resort for experienced travelers but woe be unto those who are fresh off the boat.

A lot of the locals are also really friendly.  I ended up talking with a few of the staff at a place called the Dutch Harbor Café (great iced drinks and good wi-fi) for a couple of hours, bantering back and forth in the heat of the afternoon while I did some photo editing.  For some reason I also started up a conversation with the owner of a wood carving and jewelry souvenir shop in Chinatown.  That conversation led to a few things, one tangible result was that I bought my first souvenir (a giant wood statue that will arrive in the US in about 2 months -watch out for the Mom and Dad-).  Another being that I learned a lot about the politics and economics of Malaysia.

It’s surprising how much you can learn from talking to the locals.  Wait…didn’t I say that before?

If you’re ever wandering around the town late at night you might also get to see the meat men delivering carcasses to the butchers.  At first I walked past the truck with only a glance but once I realized what it was I had to go back and get a picture.  The two guys hard at work had a good laugh when they figured out what I wanted but gave me a thumbs up.  Why I took a picture?  Well, how often do you get to see guys dragging dead pigs from a truck with giant meat hooks?

That led me to some deep thinking when a few minutes later I noticed a sight that put me off my pace.  A small kitten lay spread out on the concrete, dead, with blood coming from its mouth.

I stood there for a few minutes pondering why was it that when I saw pigs carcasses being tossed about there were no feelings but when I saw a wild kitten lying dead by the side of the road my heart strings went *twang*.

Melaka was a great place to visit, but like I said there were no real definitive moments that made me want to write a story.  The whole experience of living in that town for a few days was the story, one that can’t really be put in to a breathtaking or engaging dialogue.

I got crapped on by birds, met a bunch of new and interesting people, wandered the streets and alleys of the city, and even stayed an extra night just to see the night market.

Ever want to see a guy slam his finger through a coconut?  Visit Jonker Street in Melaka on a Friday or Saturday night.  Want to listen to bad karaoke while drinking beer in a parking lot bar?  Well, I know a place.  Thanks to talking to the locals I can also recommend the best restaurants.

Melaka, I think, was a great place to enter Malaysia.  The four days I spent there gave me some time to adjust to yet another new culture and catch my breath.  And catch my breath I did, enjoying quite a few glasses of afternoon tea.  As for sleep, though, I didn’t get much of it.  The constant heat and lack of air conditioning threw my body off its stride and as I sat on the bus to Kuala Lumpur I could feel it rebelling (that scratching in the back of your throat that says ‘guess what, you’ve got a cold!).  Perhaps I would be able to get some rest in the capital… but then again I was arriving on a Saturday night… perhaps not…



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