Melaka 马六甲

Back from Melaka. Was scorching hot; acquired a healthy tan but not-so-healthy sunburnt face.

Road crossing there is worse than in Saigon. Only saw a grand total of 2 traffic lights and that’s preposterous given the number of motorcars and pedestrians. I’m so grateful I didn’t get run over by cars. The prospect of a tragic death is so real- maybe that’s why I kept having morbid visions of myself dying in a variety of gruesome ways.

I realise the countries I’ve been visiting have permanent night markets and that’s really nice compared to the guerilla-styled ones in Singapore. A baby boomer Hokkien karaoke competition was held at Jonker Street and I loved the way the uncles went on stage clad in shorts, peppering their fist-pumping songs with cute actions. Was tickled to no end by this uncle who sang with such abandon; he was having such a good time he probably didn’t realise he was hopelessly out-of-tune.

You might have guessed- I didn’t stay vegetarian there. In fact, I led a life of pure carnivorous debauchery. Conditions just didn’t work in my way.

Foot head and shoulder massage was chicken shioka masala good. Painful, but good. Was informed that my eyes and kidneys aren’t good. Die lah.

I love how the Malaysian Chinese all speak Chinese, and had a rather fun time speaking in their accent. Noticed many brilliant photography subjects there, too bad my camera wasn’t with me.


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