Malaysia-Not in Kansas Anymore

Dear Readers,

We began our trip to Malacca, Malaysia (the country Singapore was suppose to be a part of. They split in 1964) by going by taxi to the bus hub near our old haunt, Raffles Hospital. We got on our bus early, about 8:30 am. The bus was good, spacious, and the seats inclined. I was impressed. We even got a bottle of water for the ride. All was good till we reached the Singapore checkpoint. Since I have a new passport, there's nothing stamped in it. We had to wait in the passport line while all the other natives sailed through the "auto" line. The bus driver was annoyed when we got held up-they wanted to see my old passport (which was back at the aprtment). That wasn't going to happen so we comprised on my Permanent Resident card (Green card). They let me through finally and our bus was waiting for the next hurdle. A short time later we arrive at the Malaysia checkpoint where we have to get off and dragged our suitcase into the terminal where we wait once again in a passport line. I am scared now because I know the new passport is a sticky point. But as it turned out, he didn't give it a second glance. Stamped it-yeah, no longer blank, and I was gone. Now he gave Steve the third degree-where you going, where you living, what's your favorite color? I had to laugh. Then we dragged our suitcase back out of the terminal and got back on the bus (they didn't even check the suitcase. What was the point of that?) Anyway, we were in Malaysia and guess what, it looked exactly like Singapore! The highway was completely modern and I swore I was in Virginia. Until I saw the oil palm trees for the next three hours. That's all I saw. We stopped at a rest stop? near Malacca. It was a hawker stand with something that passed as a restroom included. Now let me tell you about the bathrooms. The Asians are fond of squatting. Their idea of a toilet is a hole. You have to squat someway over this hole without falling out of the stall or getting stuck in that position or peeing on your clothes. I always feel like I am outside in the woods somewhere. Sanitary? Not on your life.

Our "five minute" stop turned into a half hour lunch break for the driver. We were suppose to get to our hotel by 12:30 so we could catch the 2:00 historic tour. We finally arrived at 1:40 with a sandwich I bought at the hotel for lunch. We split a Pepsie. The hotel was the Holiday Inn, brand new, and very nice. Our room overlooked the ocean (Straits of Malacca) and a new modern looking Mosque to remind me I was an American with a grudge. No complaints there. The guide was there and we got into a van and were off. Right off the bat we came to a high hill with a huge amount of steps to climb in 105 degree heat. Here were the remains of the Portuguese, then Dutch fort with the first catholic church on top of the hill. Not much was left because the English bombed it back in the 1700's. It was amazing to me how the Portuguese got there in the early 1500's and set up camp. Their descendants are still there and still catholic.

Anyhow, sweating like a pig, I climbed the steps and gazed at the statue of St. Francis of Xaiver or something. He was the first missionary and his statue is missing part of an arm because when he died, they wanted to ship him back to India but the climate wouldn't cooperate. Instead they chopped off his arm and sent that pickled back to India. The Dutch turned it into a Protestant Church when they kicked out the Portuguese. Then the English turned the catholic churches into Anglican churches later. That's how it works. By the way, Malacca means sour fruit in Malay. I found that to be fitting.

We briefly looked at old churches, Hindu Temples, poked into mosques, and observed Buddhist/Chinese temples there. We toured the mock Portuguese ship in the canal. We were dropped off to shop, still sweating, and the place reminded me alot of Bali with the narrow roads and cracked sidewalks. Then came dinner at a Malay famous restaurant wich reminded me of Cambodia. Like always I ordered a coke and had to pay extra. I was horrified when they brought me ice. Later I found out that the water in Malaysia is safe. In fact, Singapore imports their water from there. All this time I have been drinking Malay water.

I don't know what we ate. Of course there was rice. There were shrimp floating in curry, chicken dipped in this or that, some brown stuff we couldn't tell, and cooked cabbage. The dessert was a dish of coconut milk which I refused to touch and most definitely insulted my host. See, coconut milk used in everything in Asia. It also acts as a laxative. So no thanks. We went back to the hotel and had a piece of cake.

The TV remote wouldn't work because the batteries were dead. We gave up and went to bed. The next day we went out on our own to the new mall across the street to look around. Sweating once again, we ended up back in the historic area where we shopped some more, took a canal boat ride, and noticed the graffiti. They must watch alot of rap videos. Anyway, our time was short and after a lunch at McDonalds, we caught a ride back with Steve's fellow worker from the plant who is Malay and was in Malacca for a wedding. He offered to give us a ride because it would be shorter. But he decided to show us around Malacca first. He took us to another fort that we had to climb then to a catholic church that has a cross people take pieces from for healing (not much left) and then a Buddhist cemetery. His friend explained that Moslem Malays are buried standing up with only a wrapping around the body. I noticed there were no names on the little stones. If you are Malay (not of Portuguese, Euroasian, Indian, or Chinese decent) then you are legally Muslim. You can be prosecuted by law if you practice another religion. No kidding. This is true in Indonesia as well. There is no converting. Religion, especially Islam, is a serious matter. The friend of Steve's driving was Buddhist (he was of Chinese descent) and his wife (also Chinese) was Catholic. I was in the back seat with the wife and two girls (2 and 4) for the next five hours.

Now to get back into Singapore, you drove into a checkpoint and handed through the window, your passport. The lady called out everyone's name and we waved back. That was it. They didn't check the luggage, the car, or anything. I found that odd. Couldn't we have been carrying drugs, a bomb, or at the very least a carton of illegal ciggarettes? We weren't of course, but still. How do they expect to keep the chewing gum out if they don't check?

So that was it. We returned home about 7:00 pm. Healthy and tired.