The morning we left Kuala Lumpur started with a few situations that, like many travel moments, were both frustrating and funny - or more accurately, frustrating at the time and funny afterwards.
I woke up in our tiny orange room, ceiling fan ineffectively stirring the stuffy air. Though it was early, Allie was already gone - and unfortunately, so were the keys, with the door locked from the outside! I was trapped, a slight sense of panic set in when I realized I had no idea where she was or how long she'd be gone. After an unsuccessful lock-picking attempt with tweezers, I shouted toward the courtyard every few minutes until finally Hadi, the owner, finally came to let me out.
We'd bought tickets for an 11am bus to Melaka, so we left around ten to walk to the station. Plenty of time, we thought, since the walk to the bus station consisted of two streets. Though nothing here is well marked, we figured we could just ask around and find our way.
I remembered reading about Malaysian people's tendency to not want to tell you any bad news (i.e. "Sorry, I don't know where the bus station is"), so they'll give you any answer even if it's completely wrong. On that walk, we had the opportunity to see this cultural phenomenon in action. Everyone we asked for directions said something different, most just pointing vaguely out into the tangled web of streets.
Trying to remain hopeful, we asked a uniformed man which way the station was, and he said to go left. After walking left for about a half hour, we asked another guy, who pointed back in the direction we'd come. By this point we were pretty sure we'd miss the bus, but kept up our pace anyway. By the time we were sprinting past the mile-long bus queue leading up to the station, we had just a few minutes until eleven. We found the platform and asked every driver around, but none of the buses in sight were ours. Just when I thought we'd missed it, a bus bearing a Melaka sign pulled up. In the time it took to put my bag underneath, a crowd of waiting people had swarmed in and filled the bus - and just as quickly, we were on our way.
Melaka is a few hours south of Kuala Lumpur, a mid-sized town with a blend of well-preserved colonial Dutch architecture and a prominent Baba Nyonya culture (combination of Chinese and Malaysian). In the center of town, Red Dutch Square is lined with a constant parade of pedicabs adorned with colorful umbrellas and flowers, ready to take people for a spin while blaring Michael Jackson tunes.
We found a lovely guesthouse whose back terrace faces the river that runs through town, and immediately knew we'd be staying a while. It's clean, cozy, and US$7 each. Upon our arrival Mani, the owner, sat down with us over a cold glass of lychee juice and gave us the lowdown on what to see and which local foods to try.
Though I've sampled some local specialties, I also fell in love with an Indian restaurant I've eaten at at least once a day. Instead of a plate, they put a piece of banana leaf the size of a place mat in front of you. Coming around with bowls of rice and pots of whatever you ordered, they scoop it onto the banana leaf along with a sampling of three salads. If they notice you're getting low on something, they come around again and scoop you out another portion. I leave full and happy every time, for a total of about US$2.
Melaka has an abundance of museums, ranging from the Stamp Museum to the Instruments of Torture Museum. Today I went with the People's Museum, which is full of endearingly bad English translations. The first floor starts with the expected cultural overview. Next is an entire floor dedicated to kites, followed by the Museum of Enduring Beauty, exhibits that will "exam mini" ways people have altered their appearance since the "days of yesteryear" (foot binding, lip plates, etc). It also had an unintentionally hilarious "3D" gallery, where TVs loop bad actors in fake beards doing a hologram portrayal of the Portuguese invasion of Melaka.
In the evenings I enjoy walks along the murky Melaka River, where boats cruise along every few minutes giving pre-recorded audio tours. White Dutch-style buildings line one river bank, while on the other I see old men hanging out on benches, people praying through the windows of mosques, a neon-lit ferris wheel and small shacks on stilts. Everyone I pass is genuinely friendly; one man came up to me just to say "Hello, thank you for coming Melaka. OK bye!" and moved on.
Given that Melaka was recently designated a UNESCO World
Heritage Site, there are surprisingly few tourists here. People are more intrigued than usual that we're here from America on our own, and our guesthouse owner has a look of surprise every time we ask her to extend another night - she said this is usually a place travelers breeze through on their way to Singapore or KL. As far as I'm concerned, they're missing out!
