"The Historic State"

Even when I'm staying with a host I generally spend my days by myself. You know you've been traveling alone for a bit too long when you talk (to yourself) and you're surprised when someone answers. (Like a normal conversation!) It's especially surprising if that voice has an accent, and is a different gender. Luckily for me, the person who owned this voice was also very nice, funny and had great taste in tv.

My host had informed me the day before that Giovanni, an Italian (that name I didn't think that clarification was nessesary) was coming to stay. I was told, "if he's nice boy, you take him into the city." That type of statement was frequent during my five days. I had to just roll with the fact that almost all decisions regarding me were generally already decided. The next morning I was updated that he was indeed a "nice, serious, smart boy." Honestly, it was really nice just to have some company. Perhaps it was just because I'm coming from Australia, where a bottle of water might as well be liquid gold, but I fell in love Malaysian prices. Most places I have to pick and choose what to do, because it's just too expensive. I also never eat out if I can help it. I made up for lost time in Malaka.

We started the day at the Baba Nyonya Heritage Museum. Babas (the boys) and nyonyas (the girls) were a new Chinese-Malay hybrid culture. The museum was housed in an old gorgeous house. I'd recommend it if just to see the furniture. The middle aged woman inside of me was contented.

At lunch we had rice and I had sour plum juice. 10 year old me would have fallen in love, but I found it a bit too strong and too sweet. Still, I was in no position to judge liquids. We spent the afternoon walking around the town, and going up the hill. Up there we saw a malaysian wedding. It's a shame my siblings are both married, because I think my brother and brother in law would have looked quite dashing in a malaysian themed wedding. Don't you think K and Elli? (Those sequins would have suited both of you as well-- maybe you can wear it as maternity wear.)

Afterwards we went up an oberservation tower and then went to the maritime museum, which was housed on a ship. The strangest part of it was having to take off my shoes to go in. I couldn't imagine walking barefooted in museums in other places in the world.

The night market had started by then so we wandered over there. It was packed, but do quiet. At one point I even closed my eyes and except for the light patter of shoes on stone I would have never of guessed hundreds of people were around me. I splurged on a 33 cent popcicle and we had a late dinner. Only at the end did I realize that the bus might stop running on Sunday nights... sure enough, it does. Luckily, we could pay the son of our host to pick us up.

For all this I spent less than $30 usd.

Just as an aside, Giovanni runs two businesses one of which is pretty nifty. It's a website that offers homestays, but instead of sleeping and staying there you go only for a meal (clearly the best part.) If that sounds interesting you can go here: http://www.bonappetour.com. And while you're there you can think about the fact that he's 23 and then feel unaccomplished (I need company in feeling that way.)

"That Story I Tell My Kids One Day" #1

Where are all the people that live in this large city?

"Angel on a Motorbike"
My father has one story that is clearly his best. (That's more a comment on how good this story is rather than how his other stories are.) It happened during his time when he was traveling solo, and accidentally got on a train that was headed to Poland. He was taken home by a Good Samaritan, a man on the train in East Germany, where he spent the night. Unless I accidentally take a train in China and almost go to North Korea, it's very unlikely I'll have a story that compares-- however I'm starting to think I'll have a set of stories that might altogether come close. Luckily I have a year to accumulate them all. This is one of those stories.

When I booked my homestay I didn't realize how far outside the city it was. "Oh well," I though, "I'll be able to find my way, I'll do my research and go in." So I set off. The journey took almost two hours and I had to transfer, but I was incredibly pleased with myself. I got off at a stop I knew was near to the information center so I could get a map. That's when I met an older Indian man I'll call Jaz (for reasons that will soon become apparent.) I've been having quite the numerous conversations like this so I wasn't particularly unnerved or surprised when Jaz sat next to me and started talking to me. He asked me the usual questions (where I was from, what I was doing there etc.) but then he asked me some other questions (if I was alone, where I was going, ect.) When he told me that he was, "a good man, not a creepy man, but a respectful one" I tried to excuse myself saying I wanted to get walking, but Jaz invited himself along. Soon out of nowhere he turned to me and said, "you like to walk? I like to jazzercise. It's like exercise, but jazzy." I now know all about Jaz's life long love of jazzercise. Unfortunately soon he started talking about other things, and feeling increasingly uncomfortable I managed to say goodbye to Jaz.

Notice how there's literally no one else on the street--just me and Jaz.

               
After parting ways I managed to find the visitors center which has just close for prayer hour. I came back an hour later only to find it closed for lunch. This gave me a few solid hours of going around and seeing the sites. While thrilling to me, the real excitement happen on my way home. I got to the central bus station just fine but when I checked to see where my transfer would stop there wasn't a platform number. I started to walk down the rows of buses individually to see if I could find mine. After an hour and a bus or two missed I found it hanging out in an unmarked platform. It was pulling away when I jumped on. The bus driver looked at me disapprovingly, when I told him where I was going. He then gave me both my ticket and my money back and told me to sit down.
On my way there I had written down a landmark for each stop (so I would know when my stop was coming up.) However, about 2 minutes in I realized that this bus was going on a totally different route back. Nervous, I rather anxiously, over the course of an hour I watched as every single person got off the bus. Finally it was just me and him. He stopped at the next stop and motioned me to get off. I walked up there and told him that I thought it went further. Speaking zero English, he just kept motioning me to get off. A man who was standing on his porch decided to come over and join in the conversation. He did some rough translating for me and basically I was told that I needed to get off. So I got off not knowing where I was. It hasn't been the easiest of days with Mr. Jaz following me, so to be honest, I was a bit panicked.
I walked a bit until I saw the airport, and called my host. Between the accent, the traffic, the language barrier, and the signal failing, all I got from it was "pick up" "airport" "call from there." It was then I realized I was on the completely wrong side of the airport. It would take me over an hour to walk. I was incredibly hot, in a lot of clothing for it being that temperature and once again I would be walking on the shoulder of a busy highway to get to an airport. That's when my guardian angels came. I never envisioned my guardian angel to be about 17, Malay and riding a motorbike, but there she was. The man who had translated for me walked up with his three children on two motorbikes and said, "here, my daughter, take you." So I hopped on and they drove me around to the terminal. They dropped me off, waved and with that they were gone. It's one of the most thoughtful things every done for me.

To demonstrate that I was outside the city: this is in the neighborhood.

Absolutely gorgeous though.

And here's a similar model of the bike.

There were a surprising number of people there for it being a non operational airport, but every single one asked me if I needed help... come to think of it, that was probably because I was at a non operational airport. Luckily, however, I got a ride from my host and with that one of the hardest days I've ever had was done.
Good story though.