Melaka: Historic Streets, Current Problems

July 6th 2015...oh dear, as behind as ever. Well, twenty three days behind to be exact. Perhaps eventually it will be 20,000 days behind, and then my blog title would make sense ;) 


Apologies if this post seems brief, everything happened so long ago, and I cannot remember everything. Also, I am on beer no.2, and I have only just started. If my writing gets worse, blame my hostel, where beer is by far the cheapest drink available.


Melaka was a destination which I had looked forward to visiting since I had done my initial research on Malaysia back in March. It had the history and syncretic culture of Georgetown (Penang), but with the additional influences of earlier Portuguese and Dutch colonialists. It seemed like somewhere that I would be loathed to leave, and miss when I had left (more on that later), and I had a brilliant start to visit there as my first night coincided with the last night of the weekend night market on Jonker Street. I am never one to miss up on an opportunity to browse a market and eat street food, as I demonstrated in the previous blog entry.

The delicious weekend market along Jonker Street.

The following morning, I was eager to get an early start and explore the city. As my hostel did not serve breakfast, I wandered along the road until I found this beautiful Chinese teahouse which offered breakfast for just RM7 (£1.18), which included a free refill on my tea (a small gesture which I appreciate greatly).

Not a bad setting for breakfast.

Sadly I did not get to use these...

T-Selfie!

Over breakfast, I decided to split my exploration of Melaka into two halves, which corresponded to the two halves of the city which were divided by the Sungai Melaka. Today, I would explore the western portion of the city centre, filled with Chinese shophouses and narrow streets, before tackling the eastern portion the following day, which was filled with the buildings and edifices which were all that remained of Portuguese, Dutch and finally British colonial control. In reality, I had a day off between my two explorations days (which was needed for reasons explained later), but I roughly stuck to this plan.


So, onwards with my first full day in Melaka.

I started along Jalan Tokong, which is famous for having places of worship for Muslims, Hindus and Chinese Buddists all within sight of each (historically there was also a Catholic church situated on the street as well).

The Kapitan Kling mosque was unlike any mosque I had seen in South East Asia, which was perhaps a testiment to its age, and aspects of its architecture seemed more Christian than Islamic (ie the minaret which looked like a church steeple).

The building in the foreghround is the Hindu temple, whose name eludes me.

Two minutes further down the road stood a Chinese temple, whose facade for some reason did not get photographed. Instead, here is a collage of various carvings and statues within the temple. 

At the end of Jalan Tokong, I made a sharp left turn onto what was historically the main road in the city: Jalan Hang Jebat, previously known as Jonker Street. I had been here only the previous night for the night market, but the street looked markedly different in the daylight with no market stalls but plenty of traffic (Melaka has a SERIOUS traffic problem, and authorities should really look at pedestrianising parts of the historic centre of Melaka, as Malaysians seem to see the pavement as a parking spot).

The shrine of one of the founding fathers of the city. It was unclear what religion it was, but the simplicity suggests Islam.

The road ends at the green, neglected Sungai Melaka, where I took a brief stop before plunging back into the winding streets.

Melaka continued to remind me of Penang with its syncretic culture, historic architecture, and less expectedly through the amount of street art sprawling on building sides and doorways.

After a brief stop in a brilliant coffee shop for some iced coffee and macaroons (when a macaroon is less than £0.50, it is very hard to say no), I decided I should visit at least one of the museums that were speckled across the city. Many of them were very small, and were decidedly created less to inform than to profit from the tourism industry. I eventually decided on one which came well-recommended in my (hand-made) guide book: the Cheng Ho cultural museum. The museum was dedicated to the adventures and journeys of the famous Chinese admiral Cheng Ho (Zheng He), who visited Malacca at least five times, and his impact on Malaccan and regional history and culture.

You know a museum is not that impressive when I photographed lanturns rather than exhibits.

It was frankly a waste of money. The museum's exhibits were primarily in Chinese, with English (and Malay) exhibits added as an obvious (and badly-translated) after-thought. The content was interesting, but it was markedly thin on the ground, and had been dragged out to fill the museum's premises. There was an interesting building which had been turned into a cross-section of Cheng Ho's ship, and another room which contained scale-models of the admiral's fleet, and his temporary settlement in Malacca. Perhaps my expectations were too high after the well-funded and informative museums of KL, but it was frustrating for me as the museum had potential but was being allowed to decay and decline in order to maximise profits.


I spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing in the hostel, enjoying the decent Wifi, and then in the evening I headed out with many of the other hostel's guests for Supper Club, where one of the hostel's employees/long-term residents take guests to local restaurants. That night, I was able to try Stingray for the first time.


...it was delicious, but full of spines made of cartilege (stingrays have no bones, like sharks).


I spent my evening drinking beers with my fellow supper club guests, before heading out to a bar where I had to be tactful to some rather drunk Malaysian men who became offended other people were not sharing weed (I did not partake, but rather stuck to 8% strength special brew).



...


July 7th 2015


Understandably, I did not wake up early the next morning, but eventually staggered out of the humid hostel (no AC but it was only RM16 (£2.70) and found some brunch at a local hostel. I spent the early afternoon chilling in cafes and wondering aimless along the city's historic streets.


It's here that I should explain my main reason for coming to Malacca, which was to take on a volunteer job as a night manager in the hostel I was staying in. I was running low on money and simultaneously I was suffering from slight travel fatigue, and thought I would enjoy spending a fortnight or more in Malacca getting to know the city as a local would and restoring my desire to explore and travel once more.


The plan was to spend at least two weeks working in Malacca, but ultimately, I only worked two nights. I have nothing against the hostel or its owner (which is why I am not going to say at which hostel I was staying/working). The job mostly consisted of sitting on the front desk, checking guests in, and handling enquiries and problems (I've lost my keys, etc), which was enjoyable and not difficult at all.


My objection to the Workaway placement however was that I felt the owner was seriously taking advantage of volunteers such as myself. Here are my reasons why:

• The stated hours were 6pm-11pm, where I was meant to check guests in, keep an eye on the two hostel properties, and generally ensure everyone was happy and the common areas clean. Five hours is already more than the standard four hours asked on the Workaway website, but I did not mind too much.
• What was not made clear is that I have to start at 6pm, but I can only go to bed when the last guest arrived, which on one night was after midnight. Then any problems during the night, I also have to deal with (as I was the only 'staff member' on site).
• The owner arrives at 10am, but many guests want to check-out earlier than that in order to catch buses or flights. I initially just told them the night before to leave their keys on the desk, and pay their bill the night before. However, this apparently was not allowed, and I had to be sat on the desk by 8.00am in the morning to check people out.
• So in summary I was working 6pm until 10am. 
• During this time, I could not really leave the hostel. I could of course leave for a few minutes to buy a snack, but I certainly could not go and have a meal. This meant I missed Supper Club, and there were few options available when I was able to leave sometime between 11pm and midnight. 
• In return for working in the hostel, I had a fan dorm bed, and was given a daily food allowance of RM10 (£1.70), which barely covered a cheap meal in the city. 
• Between 10am and 6pm, I was free to do what I wished, but if I was in the hostel for any reason (Malacca is too hot to be outside for too long), I ended up helping in my time off. Once people knew I worked there, if the owner was outside having a chat to a friend, I would be looked at expectantly to help them.
• Finally, the owner had a day-off on Sunday, which meant the Workawayer had to work the entire day, from 8am until midnight. But the volunteer did not get any days off...

To put it bluntly, it was a crappy Workaway role, and I felt really used. I would have felt very, very differently if I were working in a school or for a NGO, but this was a hostel, and the owner was only using volunteers to save costs and because Malacca had a serious shortage of English-speaking staff, visible in the sheer amount of vacancy notices posted around the town. The final straw was when I found out that the owner had another hostel in Malacca where he did the exact same thing: using travellers to avoid having to pay for local staff.


However, I was not to know this when I started, so I spent the afternoon of the second day learning the role, and then the evening sitting in the humid, hot common area panting in front of a fan. I enjoyed it, but already had reservations about staying.



...


July 8th 2015


I really wanted to have a lie in today, but sadly I was up at 8am, bleary-eyed, sitting behind the reception desk with a mug of tea. At 10am, the owner arrived, and I headed out for some breakfast before coming back to shower and plan my day. I had planned to just spend another day in cafes, relaxing and attempting to blog, but two guests arrived, and the owner was having a chat somewhere, so I stayed for a few more minutes to check them in and show them the hostel. 


Five minutes later, they were back down in the common area, and the long-term British resident/sort-of-staff-member suggested we all go for lunch at a local Sikh temple. I had little else planned today, and I had never memorably visited a Sikh temple, so I tagged along with the two guests, who I soon learned were a Dutch/German couple called Anna and Fred, who were both vets (what it is with doctors and vets dating and marrying within their professions?).


After a long, hot walk we arrived at the Sikh temple, where we paid our respects (and a small donation) before sitting with the other locals to eat a 'free', simple Indian meal. What I did not realise is that after eating, we were expected to help wash up not just our own dishes, but a great trough full of other peoples' dishes. (The locals were crafty, and just dumped their dishes in the sink). The four of us became a well-oiled machine, and quickly worked our way through the great piles of metal and plastic, before we took off our head scarves, and started walking back towards the hostel.


Hannah and Fred decide that they are going to explore the Dutch colonial buildings and Portuguese ruins, and as I had not seen them yet, I tagged along once more (it became something of a recurring theme over the next few days).


I feel part of the reason they agreed so readily to me coming along was that I had mobile data and GPS on my phone, and knew the Chinese-side of Malacca reasonably well. ;)

The central clocktower.

The colonial area of Malacca is centred on St. Paul's Hill, on top of which used to stand a Catholic church, which was subsequently gutted and only partially restored. 

Fred photobombed this photo...

On the far side of the hill we found the only remaining original fort gate. It looked rather forlorn, sitting isolated in the middle of an open square, it's contorted entrance-way now protecting nothing.

At the base of the hill, we decided we should visit at least one of the dozen museums scattered over the hill, and decided on the Malacca Sultanate Palace Museum, which sat just to the east of Bukit St. Paul. The building was a replica of the palace of the Sultans who once ruled Malacca before the imposition of colonial rule, and held a collection of regalia and costume from Malacca and beyond. It was an odd collection of items, stories and dioramas, but it was at least entertaining.

After we had seen as much as we wanted to in colonial Malacca, we crossed the river and wandered around the historic streets and Chinese shophouses. Hannah, following a walking tour elaborated upon within her Lonely Planet, led her to some Chinese temples I had not seen before, which were vibrantly-painted, and full of the smell of incense and smoke.

After a brief stop in a cafe for a refreshing iced coffee, I had to rush back to the hostel to start my shift, whilst Hannah and Fred continued exploring. I spent an uneventful evening sitting at the desk, chatting to any guest that wandered through, and feeling jealous when the Supper Club set off and left me with my instant noodles. 


Fred and Hannah were amazing human beings, and when they returned that evening, they brought a slice of rainbow-coloured fairy cake to share with me.

Over tea and cake, they mentioned that they were heading on to Singapore early the following morning. I really wanted to accompany them, and leave my horrible volunteer role behind. Not long after they arrived, another guest arrived back at the hostel. He was cycling through South East Asia, but had broken his foot, leaving him stranded in Malacca whilst it healed. We were discussing my role, and we agreed it would be perfect for him to do whilst he was recovering, as he could save money and keep busy.

Everything seemed to fall into place, and so I decided to leave.

I wrote the owner a note, return the money I had been paid, along with paying for the nights I had stayed for free, and agreed to meet Hannah and Fred early the following morning when we could head to Singapore together.

Goodbye Malacca, and Malaysia!

DSP