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Published: January 21st 2012
I didn’t know what to expect, I’ve stopped reading the travel guides and decided to ‘wing it’. I knew we had to head back to Kuala Lumpur again and dreaded every step that brought us nearer to the dynamic city as it only drew nearer the fact Carl and I would soon be going our separate ways. Mightily I forced the tender thought in to the back of my mind and focused on the ‘now’ in order to enjoy the time we had left together. So we decided to take in a few places on the way after Singapore and Melaka was one of them. I saw it on the map in small letters and Carl insisted he had read wonderful things. So we went. It is always a daunting prospect to go somewhere new especially when there has been no background reading but this also leaves us with no expectations. Saying this, I have found myself to be most unprepared for new places on my travels. I get lazy and prefer to walk the streets photographing life as a means to show my adventures to friends and family back home and of course to see life rather than finding wifi
spots and sitting with my nose shoved in a book about the next place. I like to go on ‘word of mouth’, read the travel blog or listen to other’s adventures to guide me. Usually this works. Turns out, Melaka is one of the most sought-after destinations in KL for Malaysians.
Melaka, Melacca, Malacca , however you would like to spell it, is a quiet little town only a few hours away from KL and Singapore. The buildings are lined in small neat streets intersecting with one another blindly curving around the shape of the canal. Vibrant colour shouts out at you from the walls in some streets whilst others are far more reserved and painted in Mediterranean pastel shades. Ornate flowers are carved in to the roofs or the facades of buildings exquisitely show off their acquaintances with Portuguese settlements years previous. Little Melaka has a rich and exciting history from plain old fishing port village to romanticised Prince’s intermingled with Chinese and Portuguese settlers who responded violently to attacks from the Malaysians and eventually took over the city enabling missionaries to filter through and introduce Christianity. Architects brought their unique Mediterranean style of workmanship but of
course this prosperity was short-lived. Neighbouring areas out-grew Malaka such as Jahor and even Singapore and eventually Melaka’s progress stagnated and shrivelled. This short-lived opulence is what makes Melaka so fascinating. Here lies a historic Portuguese fishing village fused with a wealth of influential momentous periods and invasions which has left a mixture of European, Arabian, Portuguese and Eastern aspects behind to see. The narrow streets lined with three story buildings prevent cars and buses from fleeting past and those which are wide enough force vehicles to drive with caution. It’s like going back in time.
Recently Melaka’s development appears to have become the brain child of some inexperienced individual who clearly sees more in Melaka than I have perceived. There is a lot of development along the river which doesn’t quite fit with the old part of town or with China town and neither is it used. Maybe an elaborate ruse to tempt tourists in to Melaka or possibly to give them something to do but sadly it has been completed without taste or any real purpose. So Carl sees some pretty pictures and insisted we go to Pirate world, a water theme park and then suggested we
take the monorail after to see the rest of the city. He had read the information board somewhere and decided this would be a great photo opportunity for me whilst he got to sit back and relax whilst watching the city from a vantage point. So we took the river cruise which would lead us there. Along this unexpectedly short cruise we saw intricate artistic creations on the side of buildings, which actually looked good; we watched women dressed in their hijabs jogging in the afternoon light along the river bank; we noticed men sitting in their cafes drinking their coffee and playing games meanwhile the waters would occasionally be broken with the head of an Iguana surfacing. Then we saw Pirate world. Which was not a water themed park as the promotional material suggested (although it is by the canal) nor was it filled with thrilling rides. Pirate world consisted of a pirate boat which swings, the Jolly Roger rides we are so familiar with in England at Alton Towers. I saw Carl’s excited little face crumple in to puzzlement. The monorail appeared on the other side of the canal and ran for maybe a few hundred metres before
suddenly stopping, again a huge question mark frowned on Carl’s face. This is clearly not what Carl expected. It turns out this Melaka is the laughing stock of the train world due to the monorail which starts at a most random place and finishes in an even more arbitrary area. Then suddenly the boat turned around. We headed back this time guided to the sound of a deep British voice booming out of speakers telling us where to look, of course it was off time and had to be stopped or the boat had to speed up quickly in order to catch up. The voice told us to look at cinemas, little wooden mosques, even at a tree in the park, a bridge and a wall. We spent the entire way back giggling like naughty school children along with other westerners. The Malays seemed to thoroughly enjoy the nonsense drivelling out of the speakers.
Let’s go back to the beginning. Upon arrival to this little town we were met at the bus station to a towering TESCO sign!! This was clearly going to be an interesting place, we had not expected that. Avoiding temptation to have a peak a
man with a smooth and open face, looking almost like an ex monk approached us and asked if we had somewhere to stay. As per usual fashion we had slipped back in to our lazy ways going with the flow so of course had not. He showed us pictures in this little flip dirty flip book then revealed the name of Lavender guesthouse. Now, I can get quite superstitious as can Carl so it seems because immediately we agreed. The last three places we stayed had Lavender in the name and all of them were incredible so we felt a pull to this man with the smooth head and jumped in a taxi which took us straight there. Not before a competitor attempted to while us away with his own images, which did look rather nice but A) I didn’t like the fact the man heard us agree to the other’s guesthouse, B) the two guest houses are actually opposite each other in the same street but owned by different people so disliked the competitiveness even more as it made me feel very uncomfortable and C) he didn’t have a kind, smooth face. We chose lavender.
The guesthouse was
very basic, the walls paper thin saturated in deep Lavender but the people were genuine and hospitable wanting to make our stay as comfortable as possible. Luckily we were staying in Malaka during the week so it was quiet and peaceful, the paper thin walls made of cardboard didn’t bother us...yet.
Malaka was beautiful. There isn’t too much to do here except pace the streets, watch the locals go about their business and eat. Oh my goodness, the food was formidable. I am not in to food, I eat when I am hungry unless there is apple cake or carrot cake on offer in which case I tend to stuff the sickly sweet segments in to my mouth as quick as possible before my stomach knows it’s full, but here I gluttonised myself in to a coma, nearly. I experimented with all sorts of foods, something I am not akin to as I usually stick to what looks safe. I even ate fish! Carl and I would sit planning our next meal whilst we were still eating the previous. At the end of the road where we would eat Brunch there was a little chocolatier where they made
the chocolates on site and could be seen creating them through a huge glass window from inside the shop. A prolonged tasting session turned out to be quite fortuitous for the shop keeper as we returned daily siphoning their stock of chocolates.
In a way we were lucky to be here during the week to witness the quiet lull of the days and the excited buzz at the weekends when workers from Kuala Lumpur exile from the city en mass and flock to this tiny little historic town filling up the eateries and the guesthouses noisily. It’s like being in two completely different places. The streets turn from quite narrow lanes to being packed with stalls selling foods and trinkets enticing local and tourist alike out to part with their hard earned cash. The usually dark streets are suddenly fluorescently lit, the Chinese lanterns sway gently in the warm breeze, children help their mums at the stalls, families and groups of young friends hit the streets laughing and consuming everything in their path forcing other to squeeze past. One end of the street opens up to a stage, which we had seen previously our wonderings of what it might
be used for were revealed, of course; Karaoke. During the week most of the shops and eateries were closed but as soon as Friday hit every shop flung open its doors welcoming customers eagerly.
Long walks revealed a developing town warped and constrained by the limits of the historical buildings. Cafes opened if and when they pleased, usually at weekends whilst car and motorbike workshops remained open all the time. The Arabic chants of call-to-prayer pierced the air every few hours reminding you that although everything looks like Portugal, you are in fact in the SE Asia.
It was hot. Very hot some days to the point that we found ourselves unable to do much. Walking became a struggle and it was obvious we should be nowhere else but beside a pool. Unfortunately there was no pool at our little guesthouse so we just had to find one. I feel bad about this next part, Carl does not he clearly has no shame. We had spent our evenings sitting by the river drinking beer and playing pool (I think the final score is 5/7 to me? I will wipe the floor with you when I get back
to the UK Carl – you better brush up on those feeble ‘skills’ you have) and had noticed this spectacular hotel had an infinity pool on the roof. So the next morning we approached the reception with swimming gear in tow and asked to use the pool. Carl told them that someone in the bar last night had said it would be OK. The hotel being relatively new left the receptionist unknowing so he went to the manager to find out. Upon return he revealed we could use the pool for free as we had been told we could but the manager would like us to identify the barman who was clearly misinformed. I back tracked making excuses for the fictional character we had implicated terrified that I had just been responsible for the sacking of someone who needed this job. Carl kept his cool and gave a reasonable excuse as to why we should not and how we could have misunderstood due to language barriers. The man agreed and showed us to the pool. It was incredibly beautiful. The first infinity pool I have ever seen and it was more amazing than photos could portray. But however wonderful the
pool was my heart could not enjoy it due to the earlier predicament we had possibly caused the bar staff downstairs. I decided we couldn’t go back after today.
The next day it was still hot so after some research on which hotels have pools we went to Holiday Inn and cheekily walked in, past reception in to the lifts and up to the pool pretending to be residents to have a look. With my heart pounding in my chest I couldn’t do it. Carl, the hero, decided he would go downstairs and ask for permission. So he did. Apparently it was OK with the manager who gave his name as Alvin and told Carl to contact him if there was a problem. Whilst Carl went downstairs I stayed by the pool admiring the view. With the managers consent, a pepsi and a sun lounger I was able to look out at the Melaka straits and admire the floating mosque. We watched huge cruise ships docked out in the middle of the straits ridding their customers on to smaller boats ferrying them across in to Melaka.
Friday prayer is the most important prayer for male Muslims and
that was the day I chose to go to the floating mosque which turned out to be a very lucky choice indeed. The island the floating mosque has been built on is in fact closed all week except Friday for prayer. We took a trishaw over the bridge and observed the men dressed in their long gowns readying themselves for prayer. Friday prayer at the mosque is only for men, women pray at home or wait for their husbands outside. We too were only allowed outside and were the only foreigners brave enough to take the trip outside of town. The trip revealed an unexpected bonus as the King of something was there (I never did find out what something he is the King of) so it was especially busy to the point where the men’s and women’s wash rooms were open in order to cope with the number of worshippers flooding in. We watched as the men removed their shoes and socks, rolled up their sleeves as they conducted wudu (which is the preparation for prayer every Muslim must undertake before praying. If a Muslim should excrete, pass wind or masturbate after wudu but before prayer they must perform
the entire process again). It is a fascinating ritual designed not only to be clean but facilitates pure thought through the act of repetition and symbology. Just like the Christians ‘wash away’ sins with child or adult baptism, Muslims wash away impure thoughts and enter a state which readies them to focus on Allah.
The mosque itself is not really floating but is built on stilts in the Melaka straits giving the impression that it is floating if the tide is in. We saw it when the tide was out, a shame as I would love to have seen it ‘floating’. Still it was a simple structure painted white contrasting greatly with the deep blue of the sky, the windows stain-glassed reflecting the colour of the sea and sky. The beauty was in its simplicity.
On the way back in our trishaw the peddler showed us a mosque which was right next door to the floating mosque currently under construction. The complex was huge and even in its incomplete state you could see how formidable it was going to be when finished. Every building seemed to be under construction as was typical of the entire island due
to the fact that it was a new area hoping to bring in new financial investment, shops, and of course renewed wealth to Melaka. It was strange to glimpse a town being built from scratch; haunting to know each building which had been completed was left standing empty and hollow waiting for its new owners.
Melaka is an exciting yet relaxing place to be. There is a variety of things to do from the typical tourist attractions, huge shopping mall complexes, walking along the river, going to the huge cinema or making the most of the incredible grub. We walked miles and miles each day taking in the atmosphere of little China town holding hands and eating unknown quantities of delicious food and enjoying each other’s company all too aware that in a matter of days we would be going our separate ways and the fragility of this precious time would soon be over.
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Anastasia78
Anastasia78
Inspiration
Your photography is truly an inspiration. What a gift you have!