I got so caught up in the atmosphere of the place that I very nearly missed my coach, getting on board with minutes to spare.The journey to Melaka, on the south western coast of Melasia, took over four hours of my day, but felt much less. The scenery passing by my window was hypnotic. After escaping the somewhat claustrophobic and sterile atmosphere of Singapore’s skyscrapers, the landscape morphed through suburban sprawl  and village life to full on tropical rainforest. As far as my eyes could see, waves of green palm trees washed over the scenery. It was sad to think that six lanes of motorway had to bisect this land in order for me to see such fecund forestry, so I did feel a little guilty as I traveled the 150 miles to Melaka.

Anyway, I arrived in Melaka very calm, thanks to the air conditioning and the pleasant sights of the coach. What awaited me in Melaka central was a world away. Confusion, chaos and congestion were all congregating around me. Trying to get a bus to my hostel 10 minutes away was a nightmare. Noone seemed to know where my bus stop actually was. I was passed from bus to bus, each telling me to go somewhere else to reach my destination. Finally, one sweaty, obviously-stressed, bus conductor realised where I needed to go. Instead of telling me that he understood, he decided to yell and scream and tell me to sit down. I, in confusion and panic automatically just did as I was told. It was only after he almost-literally chucked me off the bus, did I realise he did actually know what I was talking about.

I arrived at my hostel just as the sun was setting. Located in a small side-street in the historical center of Melaka, my assumption of my place to stay that it would be as ramshackle and dilapidated inside as the rest of the street. But, I was pleasantly corrected as I walked in to a cool, clean, white tiled room, run by a French expatriate and his family.

There is only one place to be as the sun sets in Melaka, and that is the night market on Jonker Street. Clearly marketed for tourists, the narrow street is lined for endless miles with stall after stall of vendors selling everything from kitch collectibles to antique cameras. Above the infinite crowds of people marching up and down,  hundreds of Chinese lanterns, lighting the street in a flattering orange glow. Past the stalls on either sides, shops were still open for business. Dozens of art galleries and antique shops catered for the cultural appetites of the visitors, while even more karaoke bars dealt with their masochistic side.

That was the end of my first evening in Melaka. More Melaka misadventures to come tomorrow.

I started retracing my route from the night before, hoping to see some of the sights in colour rather than black and white. Although the route we took the previous night took a few hours, I took nearly all day. My sense of direction is still pretty undeveloped, and took short cut after short cut in the wrong direction. I do hope this improves as the days goes on.

What smell's good?

One one of my many wrong turns, I ended up in the old Chinese district of Singapore. Among the countless food stalls issuing bizarre and complimentary odours, I found one particular stall crowded with people. Here I had my first taste of sugar cane juice. Crushing the green stalks through a vicious looking contraption of teeth and gears, a yellowish pulp emerges from the cane. Mixed with ice and water, it made an excellent cure for the dehydrated state I was in from hours walking in the wrong direction.

Despite this, I still felt a little defeated, having not really seen as much of Singapore as I might have. I seemed to have spent most of my time wondering around the financial district – a vast expanse of steel and glass. Although stunning in their own rights, each building gradually lost its charm as it became lost in the forest of other buildings.

A bizarre hotel with a giant shaped boat placed on top.

I stopped for lunch here, in a building a hundred times shorter and a million times less expensive. It seems strange, but even here in this incredibly wealthy area, the same sorts of restaurant, serving the same cheap food as the rest of the city, exist. As I ate, to one side of me were some executive business types, to the other some construction workers working on the buildings the executives would one day inhabit.

By 5 o’ clock, I still had a few hours of light left, so decided to cross town to the Botanic Gardens. In the 35 degree heat, the cooling effects of the lush vegetation and large lake were a relief. Observing the exotic wildlife – black swans gliding, baby ducklings playing, giant wasps buzzing – helped calm my busy and slightly frustrating day in the more urban parts of the city.

Botanic Gardens

The light was now fading, and with my lack of sleep from the previous night fatiguing me, I returned back to the hostel for some R&R. Other hostelers were watching Jaws on the television, which was slightly off-putting as I had been planning on going diving in the next couple of days.

Tomorrow, I would be heading for Malaysia in general, and Malaka specifically – so went to bed quite early to get up early to catch the coach there. Unfortunately, sharks kept infesting my dreams, and so this wasn’t to happen. What happens next? You’ll have to wait till tomorrow for the dramatic conclusion of this story.

Yes, as I say, I really don’t know what came over me when I decided I wanted to go travelling around the world. I think it must be partly due to jealousy arising from hearing others great stories, and a dirth of free time that was afforded me by my lack of being able to get a job. Well, I booked the flights, a few hostels, and for the most part didn’t think about what I was actually going to do, and how it would feel to be travelling alone for nearly 100 days.

At the airport, these feelings finally sunk in. Here I was, waiting alone in an airport for the first time, with no parents, no friends, no teachers, no structure. Whatever I wanted to do, I could. I think this is the first time this has ever happened to me – me having absolutely no other prior commitments other than to myself. I felt strange, like I shouldnt be doing it. There must be something absolutely important that I have forgotten to do back home. Surely, there must be something stopping me from flying half way across the world. But there wasnt, I was free to do what I wanted. I was boldly going where only captain Kirk had gone before. And looking around the waiting lounge, I could see I wasn’t alone. There were dozens of solo travellers – and all looked perfectly comfortable with what they were doing.

Anyway, I didnt run away. I got on the flight. There was no turning back now, and that wasnt just because i had over-inflated my neck pillow.It wasn’t particularly comfortable, mainly because the person behind me decided that their feet’s rightful position in this world was inside my chair, poking me in the back. When it came to land, I looked out my window, down at Changi airport. All across the landscape were huge towers of cumulo-nimbus clouds – evidence of much warmer (maybe not wetter) climate than I was used to back home. Sure enough, as I disembarked from my plane, the heat socked me one right in the face. I was wearing three layers at the time, having come from wintery England, and didnt have any opportunity to remove my superfluous layers with dignity. Thus, I had to suffer in silence till I got to my hostel – 30 mins subway ride away.

On the way to my hostel I met up with two very lovely people I had been talking to on travel forums the previous weeks. The pair were different in almost every respect. The girl was a short, talkative, local Singaporean who lived with her parents on the outskirts of the city. The guy was tall and quite shy, a Dutch traveller, part way round his non-stop circumnavigation of the globe. Together they gave me a perfect introduction to the world of travelling. He with tip and advice for my future travels, she with her encyclopaedic knowledge of the place I was starting my voyage.

I arrived in Singapore in the early evening, which gave the three of us the chance to explore the city at night. It certainly made an incredible introduction for me – the giant skyscrapers lit up in electric lights, the traditional boats crawling down the river lit by old gas lamps, thousands of people everywhere, and thousands of restaurants and shops open late into the night to satisfy their collective appetites. My own apetite was satiated by an eclectic mix of foodstuffs – fillets of stingray, sweet potato leaves, soy pudding, starfruit juice and watermelon ice cream.

The amount of culinary choice on offer in the city seems to stem from its history of accepting almost limitless amounsts of ethnic groups. Back when the city was founded by Sir Stamford Raffles in 1819, the city had Chinese, Indiann and Muslim quarters. They still survive to this day, but have been blurred and diluted by the influx of others. Now everything from Australian fish and chips to sharks fin soup is on offer, both of which are repugnant in my eyes.

Anyway, that was the end of my first day in Singapore. Sorry about the lack of photos. I will add more as soon as I have the computing power available.

(This is a feature I have written for Guru Magazine. You can read the full article below. Hope you enjoy!)