Melaka, where the history comes from
Ever since I moved to KL I'd been curious about the etymology behind the names of some of the LRT and monorail stations, like Dang Wangi. Last Thursday I visited the historical centre of Malaysia and discovered all sorts of interesting things, including the story behind Dang Wangi. I'd been planning to visit Melaka (also spelt Malacca by those who don't know better) for a few weeks because it is the oldest part of the country and has a rich history going back about 6 centuries and encompassing 5 different empires. I'd also been planning to visit my friend May in Singapore and, since Melaka is between KL and Singapore, I decided to stop off in Melaka on my way to Singapore.
Unfortunately, the train from KL to Singapore doesn't actually go through Melaka but instead goes through a larger city called Tampin that is further inland. There used to be a train running between Tampin and Melaka but the Japanese dismantled it during the 2nd world war to build the Burma death railway (made infamous by The Bridge on the River Kwai). Consequently, the only way to reach Melaka from KL now is via interstate coach so I bought a bus ticket to Melaka and figured I could catch a bus to Tampin when I was done with Melaka in order to catch the train to Singapore there. For bizarre historical reasons, it's cheaper to buy a round-trip train ticket from KL to Singapore than to buy a one-way ticket from Singapore to KL. So I got the round-trip from KL and figured that I could just board the train at Tampin instead. After all, I'd have an assigned seat and nobody in their right mind could fault me for overpaying.
On Thursday morning I caught the coach to Melaka from the main bus station near Chinatown. Good thing I hadn't bought a durian there because they aren't allowed on the bus. Upon arrival at Melaka I discovered that the last bus to Tampin leaves at 8pm daily, which meant I'd have a few hours to kill in Tampin as the train wouldn't get there until around midnight. Delighted to find a bag check service for only 2 ringitts (less than a dollar), I left my backpack there and headed into town for the day.
My first stop was the Portuguese settlement where the descendants of Portuguese colonists from nearly half a millennium ago still live. While this is a well-regarded historical site in general, it held particular interest for me because my ancestors are from a different Portuguese colony and I wanted to see if there were any similarities between the subculture of my ethnic group and the people in this settlement. When I first arrived I noticed that there was a convent school with girls in uniform that certainly jogged memories of the one my sister attended as a child. And the streets had names, like Sequeira, that were distinctly Portuguese. But I hadn't yet met any of the inhabitants.
That's when I was hailed by an old man at a restaurant. Since it was lunch-time anyway, I sat down and looked at the menu, which was heavily Malaysian. I have to admit I was a trifle disappointed at not seeing familiar dishes on it. Presently, however, a few locals showed up to eat as well and I eavesdropped on their conversation, which yielded a linguistic truffle: these people end their sentences in "no", much like I recall many of my Goan and Mangalorean neighbours once doing. After lunch I wandered off and soon came to a little hawker stall where young coconuts were being sold. When the proprietor wanted to know if I wanted one, he ended his question with "or what?", which made me grin as I remembered all the times I'd heard people doing that as a child. I also noticed that the low-rise residential buildings behind the stall were labelled "blok A" and "blok B", just like the one in which I once lived for nearly a decade. Having satisfied my inner anthropologist, I caught a bus to the town square.
Immediately upon alighting from the bus at the cloak tower, I found myself facing the History & Ethnography Museum. What with my love of history, ethnography and museums, I simply had to take a look. The absurdly low cost of entry didn't hurt either. I ended up wandering around the museum for over 2 hours before they kicked me out to shut down for the day. The museum is divided into a different section for each period in Melaka's fascinating history and I had barely started on the 2nd one before I had to leave. But not before I learned that Dang Wangi was the widow of a famous Malayan hero called Hang Jebat and was herself highly regarded as a warrior.
After leaving the museum I walked along the river until dusk fell, marvelling at historical artifacts on public display, such as the 15th century water wheel, a windmill and a couple of ships. Finally I had dinner at a Dutch cafe run by Filipinos, where I had a nice view of the monitors that live in the river. Then I caught the bus to Tampin, where I walked in the dark for 20 minutes through an extremely desolate part of town before I reached the train station. On the plus side, I had been putting off taking the passport-size photo I needed for my Cambodian visa and I happened to pass by a photo studio while looking for the train station so, since I had copious amounts of time to kill, I got my photo taken.
Of course, after that I still had nearly 4 hours of waiting ahead of me, alone and in the dark, with no power outlets, let alone Internet access. I spent the last of my ringitts on a crappy meal, then read a book until I was too sleepy to continue and just lay on a bench for over an hour feeling zonked until the train finally arrived to put me out of my misery.
