I went to Melaka directly after we arrived in Kuala Lumpur from Myanmar. That begs the question: what to do after Myanmar? Melaka was unfairly put in a spot where it had to at least keep up with the highs of both Bagan and Yangon. If I had come there at a different time, I would probably have had more fun and desire to take photographs. Still, I did a lot of walking around streets littered with old and historic structures mixed with modern ones (a replica of the Marina Bay Sands hotel in SG was being constructed near the waters of the Strait of Malacca), trying out local dishes here and there. It was not bad at all, really.
Semi-Burnout at Melaka
An Unexpected Lift at Melaka Sentral
I arrived at Melaka Sentral bus station at around 8:30 in the evening; the sunlight had just flickered out of the sky a few minutes earlier, so I felt like it was only 6:30. I got confused about what part of the station had the loading bay for buses going to downtown Melaka. I asked a random guy of Indian descent handing out flyers for directions, and he spoke perfect English with a London accent. He asked where I was staying. I told him I had booked a room at Le Village Hostel. He told me, "Perfect, I have a hostel located in the same area. You know what, I could take you there. My car is there, and two female German travelers are in the back seat; they will be staying at my hostel. Just pay me ten ringgits, and we are good to go."
It was a good deal since the taxi fare going downtown was pegged at fifteen ringgits minimum. I followed him to his car, hoping it was not a trap to lead me to his butcher place. I slowly took a peek at the two figures seated at the back of the car. When I got inside the passenger seat, I still half-expected the two to drug me with pepper spray; instead, I was greeted with cheery hellos. The two German ladies had come from George Town in Malaysia, and as I told them where I was from, they both answered in unison, "Palawan! El Nido! The best beaches we have seen so far."
Dave, the hostel owner who drove the car, told us a little bit about his background. He was born in India and lived there until the age of nine before his family relocated to London, where he spent twenty-five years of his life. He had also traveled the world and mentioned the hometown of the two ladies, Munich, as one of his favorite cities. He spent a short time in the Philippines in the 1990s but was only familiar with a few provinces in Northern Luzon. He had been living in Malaysia for seven years. One of his staff members at the hostel was from Pampanga, so he knew a bit of Tagalog words. As we passed by an old house, he told us a story of the previous owner who had owned hundreds of cats: "He was 'bading,' see, I know a bit of Tagalog, so he lived alone until he died."
The Lonely Halls of Le Village Hostel
Dave played the role of our tour guide while steering his car toward the downtown area of Melaka. He pointed to the largest mosque in the city and the biggest cemetery in the country and in Southeast Asia. I was trying to remember the places he pointed out, as I was intent on visiting them the next morning, but half of my attention was directed at the two giggling ladies in the back seat. Dave kind of noticed it and told me, "You know what, why don't you just stay at my hostel and have drinks with them and the other guests." I entertained the thought, but I had already booked another hostel and only paid a ten-percent down payment for two nights. From a business standpoint, it is a no-no for a traveler to cancel without prior notice because Le Village had already reserved a room for me. I told him about my booking, and Dave instantly understood.
A few minutes later, we rolled into the center of the town. The lights of the restaurants littering the streets excited me, as I planned to do a lot of food-tripping the moment I dropped my backpack in my room. They dropped me off on a corner street, and Dave pointed to the building where Le Village was located. I paid him eight ringgits and apologized for not having enough coins. I bowed a bit to look at the two ladies and bade my goodbye.
Le Village was located on the second floor of a building and occupied up to the fourth floor. I was greeted by two half-asleep front desk staff members. When I got to my room, I noticed all the doors of the other rooms were open, and I was the only guest on the entire floor. A sense of loneliness lingered quickly, and the thought of staying at Dave's packed hostel and drinking beers with the two German ladies seemed like a great idea I had chosen to pass on. I never got the desire to go out that night. Tired from temple-hopping in Bagan and the layover at the KL airport while waiting for my bus to Melaka, I hit the sack and just savored the feeling of sleeping in a city I had never been to before.
The Fever and the Old English Expat
I woke up the next morning with a slight fever. I thought about sleeping the whole day. But the traveler in me kicked in and refused to be downed by a virus. So, I was able to walk around without an appetite for some serious food-tripping. I just drank fruit juices the whole day until later in the afternoon when I had my first meal. I saw some of the old structures dating back to the years of both the British and the Dutch. I had Cendol ice cream and even saw a giant lizard swimming by the river. Got hit by bird shit as well. During the night, I walked around Chinatown on the famed Jonker Street, which was lit with Chinese lanterns; the neon lights originating from the river provided a romantic sight. I felt lonelier again. The flu virus and solo travel did not jibe really well, I supposed.
On my second night, I already could not wait for the next day to go home. I was questioning myself if I was cut out to do long-term traveling since I already felt homesick and alone—after my Myanmar travel companions had gone home already. Maybe it was just a case of the flu, the highs of Bagan, and the different appeal of Melaka, which at that time failed to jibe well with me. Lost in transformation, perhaps, going from one place to the other. I may have failed to adjust my expectations as well. As I said, if I had gone to Melaka at a different time, I would have enjoyed it more, and I promised myself I would do a lot of food-tripping the next time out.
As I was charging my phone in the living area of Le Village, an old woman came out of her room and sat on the sofa. We talked about this and that, and I found out she had been living in Melaka for six months and was originally from England.
"I'm not fit to walk around and explore, so I just want to stay in a city for a number of months, then I go to another place," she told me. She looked like she was past seventy already. I realized that if she could do it, then I could do it as well. Screw the sickness, the homesickness, and my physical body. At that instant, I felt like taking a bus not back to Kuala Lumpur, but to a random city. Oh well, I had work to go back to at that time. Next time, I would not question the road again and would not entertain the thought of homesickness and loneliness ever again.
