On January 31st I sadly left Singapore behind. Virtually every traveler I have met, especially the shoe-string budget ones, has said that Singapore deserves no more than a couple of days. My contact there urged me to stay for a month. I settled on a week, and was very happy with that... You simply can't get the feel for a place in two days; a week allows you to understand the culture and people only a little more.

The Monday nightmarket in Johor Bahru was appealing, with lots of wares for sale, fresh fish, fresh meat, fresh vegetables... We loaded up with freshly cooked Mie Goreng, Nasi Goreng, Peking duck, and various forgotten Malay and Chinese delicacies. Afterwards we drove past several magnificent building projects that had been terminated a half-dozen years ago; they were started during the tech boom, and went bust during the Asian financial crisis around 1997. Sad to see abandoned half-built buildings. Scars of the cityscape.
I bought my ticket to Melaka for 13RM, then headed home for the makeshift dinner eaten over newspaper with disposable utensils. The family with which I was staying had recently 'fired' their Filipino housekeeper over a ridiculous set of circumstances (literally over a chocolate bar, though perhaps I don't understand the situation properly), and so had resorted to a lifestyle that minimised domestic chores.
Their house in JB is very glamourous, though the empty spaces in the recently built rooms echo and the walls are bare. Wasted wealth. It seems that many of the lower-upper class of Singapore choose to build houses in the nearby JB where costs are less than half the price, but realistically they never have time to enjoy these fantastic homes.
After my meal of Peking duck and fried noodles I spoke at length with my host about the fish industry in Singapore, then went to sleep in the cavernous guest room.
5:45 I was up, a meal of reheated duck was waiting and hurridly I gobbled it up and packed my bag; out the door by 6. By 6:40 I had caught one of the infrequent town buses (50sen) to the out-of-town bus depot. I enjoyed a Teh Terak and a telephone call home (the first in awhile; it'
s expensive to call from S'pore and the P'pines), then boarded the massive, 24 seat bus.

I expected a 4 1/2 ride to traverse the 250-or-so kilometres to Melaka(or Malacca, depending on who you ask), but we arrived in just over 2hours. Rare to arrive earlier than expected in Asia... At the magnificent new bus terminal just outside Melaka I was approached, as always, by taxi touts. Offers of 15RM trips downtown prompted me to seek out the local transportation, and I was sure glad I did. For only 50sen I got a nice tour into the town on Bus #17, and the trip only took about 10 minutes. I just saved $5... I love saving money, especially when it's not my money (thanks Royal Bank!).

I got off outside a large shopping mall nearby the hostel district, and after a short walk through the scorching heat I had found a guesthouse called The Travelers Lodge. After a very lengthy check-in procedure...

bugger- I have to go to the airport.... Ran out of time. Will finish from Jakarta.

(From Jakarta I will continue.)

...during which the owner, a Japanese muslim-convert from near Okinawa, outlined the rules, regulations, procedures and other instructions in a manner better suited to an airline stewardess. During the flowing dictation she struggled to catch her breath, and despite my attempted interruptions, she continues on. This was VERY important. Finally the formalities were over and she handed my passport back after transcribing all the pertinent details.
My room was a very small boxy room with a very steep ladder leading up to a huge loft area where my double bed was hidden. The mattress was very comfortable and the pillows *new*, rare for budget accomodations over here. I had a brief nap to try and fend off my growing fatigue from such an early awakening. After about an hour I was woken up by the owner's young boy dragging a stick across the wooden deck on the rooftop garden, just outside my room. I dressed and set out with a small brochure in hand, camera slung over my shoulder.
Melaka is a very charming town, rich with history. It seems it was founded in 1396 by a Sumatran sultan who built a large port to facilitate trade between India, China and the rest of Southeast Asia. Later the Chinese emperor would send his daughter to marry the now-sultan. Later the Portuguese would take over, then the Dutch would invade, then later the British would trade a Sumatran port-city with the Dutch. All this means that the small city of Melaka is a very interesting place in terms of culture, architecture, and history.
A short walk from the hostel would bring me past the Maritime museum, where you can find a replica of a Dutch ship and a few military vessels. Then on to Stadthuys, the Dutch Governor's residence built in 1650 in a classic Dutch style. The Melaka Historical and Ethnographic museum is housed within, and for 5Rm you can see a couple interesting dioramas showing life in Melaka through the ages, and collections of Chinese, Islamic, and local, artifacts. More interesting, perhaps are the numerous graphic depictions of the areas history; gorgeous oil paintings... Up on the hill in the compound is the aging St. Paul's Church, built in 1566 or so, and badly in need of a roof-repair. Inside the church are numerous tombstones incribed in Latin and Portuguese dating back to the church's inception. Outside the roofless church a few Malays are playing music, making for a very nice atmosphere, and a couple others are peddling cheap souvenirs and beverages. I joined in on a tour-group briefly, then headed back down to the courtyard outside, where the Christ Church stands tall. I set off north towards the famous Jonker Street in Chinatown, where tightly packed chinese shops (including Longevity shops, Curio shops, bound-foot-shoe stores, and antique galleries) are decorated with draping gold wire connecting red lanterns. The Chinese New Year is fast approaching, and there are Gong Xi Fa Cai banners most everywhere (sponsored by Carlesburg). I walked by the Kampung Keling Mosque, bragged to be one of the oldest in the Muslim Malaysia.
Being hot, tired, and hungry, I set off for the miniature Little India for some Roti Chanai, for which I was charged double (though quickly corrected the cashier using my limited Malay). She smiled, shrugged, and finally conceded. I paid the 3.10RM and headed back to the hostel.
I settled down in the bustling common area and read the outdated version of the Economist that I had bought in Ninoy Aquino International for $2. Lots of people, mostly couples, wandered in and out. I still marvel at the number of couples I see backpacking. Not sure how many of those relationships work through the stresses of traveling together in Asia...
Later the cafe, downstairs on the second floor, played a bootlegged VCD version of The Aviator. I missed the beginning so am still a bit confused over the plot. Something about a pilot who also directed movies?
I was reminded about how most Asians think I look like the star of that movie. A little far-fetched in my mind.

The next morning I enjoyed a hot shower and ate one last meal of IndoMalay Roti: four Roti with Sous-sous (sweetened condensed milk). I already miss it.
I collected my heavy bag and caught the familiar Town Bus #17 back to the bus interchange just east of the town centre. I finished my Economist, and in an attempt to gain some good karma in Indonesia, I gave it to a bored-looking Belgian man traveling with his wife. Around 10 I boarded the delux bus and set off north on the final leg of my west coast road trip to KL.