Robert Tyabji, Shah Alam, August 2013
Malacca (more correctly spelled Melaka nowadays) is a fascinating town, perhaps the most interesting and diverse in Malaysia. Its cultural mix of Hindu, Arab, Malay, Chinese, Nyonya-Baba, Portuguese, Dutch and British influences and quaint architecture, scrumptious food and charming people make it a great favorite with most, and especially the tourists.
Our friend Anita Murray, the intrepid traveler and ex-professional tour guide, promised to accompany us on a quick but highly engaging visit to historic Melaka. So, early on Sunday 26 August, we collected Anita at the Shah Alam railway station and headed south to Melaka. With us was our friend and neighbor in Nepal, Greg Alling, who had just completed a Malaysia business trip and was going on to Singapore the next day.
The drive south on the Elite Expressway and the E-1 North-South highway is a breeze and takes about 2 hours and an extra 40 minutes or so into Melaka town.
It was a great time to be in Malaysia as the country was finalizing extensive preparations for its 50’th Merdeka (freedom) anniversary on 31 August. Malaysia's red, white and blue flag adorned every building, shop, and most cars and motorbikes, and even Melaka's famous cycle rickshaws with their profusion of plastic flowers and blaring rock music.
Anita had reserved rooms at Hotel Puri, a delightful establishment on Jalan Tun Tan Cheng Lock, next to the famous Jonkers Street and right in the middle of Melaka's Dutch and Straits Chinese locality. Here are spotless teracotta-tiled sidewalks and rows of beautifully decorated shophouses packed with Chinese, Arab and European antiquities, and coffee houses, stalls and restaurants offering Nyonya delicacies. Here too stands Masjid Kampung Kling, Melak's first mosque, old Chinese temples, a columbarium, a library, hotels and guest houses, an elaborate towkay (wealthy businessman, usually Malaysian Chinese) mansion and even an open air karaoke stage.
After a delicious lunch of Nyonya style asam (sweet-sour ) fish head curry and chicken rice it was time for a little more mosying around the shops before retiring for a nap followed by tea in the hotel's charming courtyard shaded by a giant frangipani tree and cooled by a 10-foot waterfall. Rested and refreshed, we followed Anita into a Chinese temple and a columbarium where paper money was being burned at the altar to ensure the speedy and comfortable transition of a recently departed soul to the afterlife. Outside, preparations for the weekly Sunday night street market were underway. Vendors were arriving in cars, vans, motorcycles and bicycles and were setting up their stalls. Cleverly fashioned tables were unfolded and joined together in long rows while racks and shelves were erected and stocked with merchandise ranging from bric-a-brac and antiquities to toys, books and, of course, an array of local snacks and delicacies.
As dusk fell, we watched the activity over a mug of Carlsberg draught at one of the many cafes along the street. In time, inevitably, our thoughts turned to dinner! Anita led us through the Baba House Hotel and some back streets to the Pak Putra Restaurant, a Pakistani establishment specializing in north Indian style tandoori chicken and naan. We ordered chicken, naans, masala mutton, masala fish and cream palak (a creamy spinach curry). Now, all of us are familiar with south Asian cuisine - Anita is a frequent visitor to India while Hootoksi and I grew up in Bombay and later lived and worked in New Delhi for years, and Greg had worked in Islamabad and even spoke Urdu quite fluently. We were in unanimous agreement that the Pak Putra meal was exceptional in terms of freshness, taste, lightness (ie, not at all too oily) and friendly and knowledgeable service.
Later that evening, Greg got a private taxi to Singapore and the three of us returned to our rooms exhausted, sated and happy.
