It's Bohemian

After leaving the slow pace of Laos, it was hard for us to adjust to life in the cluttered, chaotic city of Kuala Lumpur. We've been there before and know its ways, but still felt bombarded with smells, smog, and noise. We quickly made a visit to the 3rd Indian Embassy in attempts to get a visa because that was our next chosen destination. 3-5 days it was supposed to take to receive that pretty new visa on our American Passports. That is 3-5 days too many to be waiting around in KL, so we decided to flee to Melaka, a cute, calm little city just 2 hours South.

The decision was made solely because of the delicious, unique food that Melaka possesses. The cultures are diverse and the food portrays it. The Malays make specialities such as cendol which can best be described as a snow cone in a bowl with such oddities as beans, corn, dark syrup, and green, wiggly jelly things. It sounds bizarre, but it is actually pretty tasty. The locals go crazy over this stuff. There is a dish called popiah which is almost like a Mexican burrito but with rice paper and sauerkraut-looking stuff that is very sweet. I really enjoyed the Baba Laksa, which 8 months ago I never would have been able to eat because of its spice. It is a noodle dish drenched in a red coconut milk with lots of lemon grass and spices. You can get it with shrimp, veggies, fish balls, or dumplings. It is quite delicious!

The Indians living in Melaka have 'restorans'  all over town and are famous for their banana leaf meals. Only 4 Ringott, which equates to $1.30 USD, you can get 3 mixed specialities consisting of a runny spinach-corn mixture, a thick vegetable currie, and a lovely pinapple-cucmber blend to numb the spicy burning sensation. They will plop 'free-flow' rice on your banana leave and dump as much Vegetable Dahl or Chicken Curry as you would like. We often would add a plate of lamb to the mix as well. Our right hands would be stained bright orange from all the spices upon completion of our meal. I would often get a hot Tea Tarik, a milky sweet Indian Chai and James would always get a Teh O Ais, which is really sweet iced tea. Sometimes we would top the meal off with a sugary Roti Pisang, Banana Roti, which is always made to perfection. We were frequent customers at a popular place named Pak Putra, which was known for their Naan that was so soft and warm you could sleep on it for a pillow. It was spectacular, and after observing these Indian guys perfect their art of Naan-making I have even greater respect for every bite! I would usually get Garlic Naan to dip in a dish called Butter Chicken, but to me it tasted like a wonderfully thick tomato basil soup with thick chunks of buttery chicken. Sometimes I would order double cheese and garlic Naan which was stuffed with so much cheese I just wanted to hug the Naan…It was that delicious! I can't forget to mention the Tandori Chicken that was cooked in huge clay pots and so soft it would practically melt in your mouth. Definitely 2 thumbs up! This place was a little more pricy than the rest costing on average…$6 USD, but we would certainly walk away with a full belly and be stuffed the rest of the night.

Every visit to an Indian Restoran, I would have to build up the courage to give the Indian head wobble back to the nice guys who so patiently take my complex order, but in the end I always get scared and chicken out!… Tilting your head from side to side as if saying no, actually means the opposite. At first I would be afraid they would think I was insulting them if I did it wrong, or mocking them while having a huge smile on my face, but quite the contrary. They seem to be really please that you've made an attempt to adopt in some of their culture. I asked many Indian friends I have around town, and everyone said it was perfectly fine for me to do, in fact they would be elated to see a pretty blue-eyed girl, give them the wobble back. That head wiggling is the most expressive of of Indian gestures meaning Yes- the equivalent of a forward nod. But it also has the connotations of, I agree with you or Yes, I would like that. There is a universal message attached to that gesture, but it just didn't feel natural for me to do, so after the swift little Indian guys toke my order, I would curse myself for vocally saying Yes instead of giving them the head wobble. I'll work up the nerve one day…but for now let me continue raving about the food!…

As for the Chinese, I've ate so much American chinese food in my life that I am not as excited to eat these dishes than normal…until I discovered a couple dishes. Most notably, a dish called Char Siew, which translated means Charcoaled Pork. It is a fatty pork cooked in long strips in a mouthwatering Honey BBQ glaze. The meat will be placed over rice and a sweet sauce will be drizzled over that. It is beyond scrumptious!! My first visit to Melaka I was staying at a guesthouse across the street from this hawker center, so naturally I would wander across the road and eat myself silly. This second trip to Melaka, we stayed on the other side of town, and I never once minded the blistering heat beating down on my skin, as I took the walk across town in order to get a plate of Char Siew. I literally ate there over 30 times. I got to be such good friends with the owners of the stand that at one point a member of their family asked James and I  if we'd like to road trip to China with them because they had 2 extra seats in their car…And we actually might come back at the time in 2011 when they are planning on making the long haul from Malaysia, up through Thailand, to Hong Kong, Shanghai, and Beijing?!…

I also discovered another food stand at that same hawker center that served one of the most appetizing noodle soup I've yet to slurp in SE Asia. Anyone who knows me, knows about my noodle soup infatuation. I just can get enough of the stuff! I love everything from the spirited broth to the chopsticks and little spoons. I eat every bite with appreciation and often give my compliments to the overworked chefs. This particular soup is relatively popular among the Chinese crowd, and they always seemed to be amazed that a foreigner discovered one of their sacred dishes. This noodle soup stand has a unique situation. They open at about 8pm and close around 2 or 3am. It seems that the Chinese Malays eat well into the night and have no problem staying up into the early morning to enjoy their food. This noodle soup stand is run by a family of Chinese. The uncle arrives in early evening to prepare the stand, getting the broth boiling, the packs and packs of homemade noodles set up, and repeatedly cleaning the stainless steal counter tops.is hair is always slicked back and he often combs it Danny Zucko style with the comb in his back pocket. The character that makes this precious soup stand so interesting is the old mother. She looks like one of the most mean, angry, intimidating woman I have ever seen in my life. Frankly, she frightens the daylight out of me and all the others around her. She strikes fear into children, and I have never once seen her smile. Her slave, I mean son, takes the orders and delivers the hot steamy bowls of soup to the customers. He is a happy guy in his mid-30s that doesn't really seem to be bothered when his mother yells at him loudly in front of all the happily fed foodies. The uncle runs around collecting empty bowls and cleaning up, and the father- husband of the mean lady- is the actual soup master. I have never seen or heard him speak a single word. He stands there making bowls of soup until the last customer is fed, and never shows a hint of exhalation the whole time his infuriated wife barks order to him. I only deal with the son, who knows my order before I tell him. He brings me the homemade noodle soup and I pay him. I want no dealing with his mother. I can't even make eye contact with her directly because she strikes such a horror in me and others around me. It doesn't take away from their business though, people put up with it because the soup is so tasty. I can't help but feel sad for the sun who has probably been working at the noodle stand since his youth, and will probably stand hunch-backed over the steaming bubbling broth, late into his 70s, just like his father.

Another chinese delicacy is the Dim Sum breakfasts next door to our guesthouse. They open at sun rise and close at 11am. We usually start with a nice hot pot of chinese tea, point at numerous mystery dishes, and finish up with some sweet buns. We never really know what we order, because they are all small dishes of steamed or fried savory dumplings containing various fillings. At one point I ate a fish and seaweed steamed dumpling along with boiled chicken foot…after that I wasn't able to eat a Dim sum breakfast for weeks!… We've gotten to be good friends with the people that run the shop, and even the demanding black and white cat that cleans up any leftover food.

Perhaps your asking how we came to discover all this good food?…Well  the 3-5 days we were waiting for our India visa turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. I ended up getting my visa, but not James…we deduced this was because he was smuggled out of Iran as a young child. In the mean time, my bank account got hacked. Peculiar charges started showing up from .com companies, that I certainly didn't purchase from, so Bank of America shut down my account and told me they would FedEx a new card over asap! I had some American money stashed away in case of a situation like this, so we managed to get by. After 11 days I called to check in on my missing card situation, and they couldn't find the precise address of the guesthouse I was staying at, so they sent my card back to America…. stranded again… this time with less money… To make an extremely long and frustrating story shorter- After talking to over 20 different associates, they still didn't resolved my banking issues. I finally got a card that didn't work, then an incorrect pin number… 3 months later and my problems are finally starting to be resolved. With all the Bank of America frustration

We made some unforgettable friends while in Melaka. Namely Howard and Sam, the guys who run Ringo's Foyer Guesthouse. Howard is happy-go-lucky chinese guys who is absolutely larger than life. His character kept me laughing everyday! He is absolutely perfect for his job and is one of the most interesting, accommodating person I have ever met in my life. He speaks little bits of every language from interacting with so many foreigners. He has the most interesting background, and such cheerful mannerisms. Months later…we still catch ourselves talking in 'Howard Slang.' Sam is a local Malay who just finished his studies at his university. He is always chipper, cheerful, and in good spirits. Most nights I would hop on a mountain bike and ride for miles on end with him around Melaka and the outskirts, helping him train for his bike marathon. He would take me to eat at all his favorite places around town, and recommend the best dishes. Howard is a Chinese-Malay so he is able to practice his choice of religion freely, but Sam however can not. He was born a Malay which automatically make him a Muslim. He cannot drink, smoke, have piercings, get tattoos, have sex before marriage, and all the other bad things that normal people do without thinking twice. If he gets caught by the religious police for breaking any of their strict rules, then he will go to jail, and be penalized with heavy fines. He so badly wants to act out of rebellion, but fears the law and his mother. I talked him into letting me cut his nice school boy hair into a mohawk….He was felt so elated by his badass haircut, that he actually wore his earrings out in public! I thought I did him a good deed by liberating him a bit, but on the day when he invited me to join him in attending a traditional Malay wedding celebration where his mother would also be attending, I felt like maybe by cutting his hair into a badass style, I would only get him into trouble. He wore his skull cap, so his mother didn't even notice…and I actually didn't even get to attend the wedding because the car broke down on the way and we were stuck for hours in the blistering heat on the side of the road. I don't know how all the Malaysian women wear their nice outfits that cover every inch of their body…I thought I was going to overheat in the garments I borrowed from a local girlfriend.

After traveling the world for months on end, I was glad to feel like I had a home. I wasn't a nomad wandering the globe for that month and a half…I felt like a local with an address. I knew all the places to go, how to get there, how much to pay, and had friends all over town. Howard, Sam, and a couple other travelers who found comfort in Ringo's Foyer and didn't want to leave, were a temporary family that I came to value. I would look forward to hearing their plans for the day, how their night went last night, and all the other wacky situations that arise out of a culturally diverse group of humans.

I busied myself by getting involved in the Arts scene by gallery hopping, spray painting graffiti on the rooftop, and joining local photographers and makeup artists in numerous photo-shoots. They were enamored by my blonde hair, long, straight nose, and the curve of my lips…So unlike their features. They would boost my ego by bragging to others about how they were working with a 'professional American model.' They would stare at me with huge almond eyes when I would walk out of my changing room in full costume and make-up while towering over them in my stilettos. It was a fun way to pass time and help out in marketing efforts of the local and their businesses. I also spent hours on end building websites for thriving companies. I got in the habit of waking up at noon, working till 4am, not working out, and eating whatever I wanted-whenever I wanted. A habit that I broke all too soon after departing Melaka and traveling onwards.

For the 45 days I spent in Melaka, majority of my evenings were spent on the rooftop to watch the sunset. It soothed me to feel the contentment that the color blends calm me with. The call to prayer rings out from numerous mosques all over the city all at once, announcing it is time for Muslims to make one's devotions for the day. "Allah hu Akbar, Allah hu Akbar"….

You hear this cacophony 5 times a day, and although I'm not religious- it kind of acts as an alarm clock for me to take a time out to myself and do a bit of meditation. Inward thinking. My minds' discourse of considered thoughts on any intense subject. Most often positive reflections on my life, and happiness for the path I have chose to take. Through my sporadic meditations I have come to realize that nothing in my life is as important as my family. Nothing matters as much as them. I am unattached to everything, don't have responsibilities towards anything, or feelings of obligations to anything…except for my blood. And honestly, I couldn't think of a better bunch of people to feel so strongly for. If it takes leaving your known universe to understand, in clarity, a sense of bond, love, and solidarity- then I urge everyone to withdraw from their comfort zones. I often go through a system of rumination- I take 5 deep breaths, picturing 5 times different faces of the same person in different situations. First mother, then my father, then sister, then uncle, grandparents, aunts, cousins, and friends so close I could call them family. It takes quite awhile for this process to complete. Most of the time I loose focus because of external factors….I'm still working to control this, but more often than not, I get sidetracked due to jolly giggles that are produced from the images my minds' eye produces of my father. Whenever I think of him and all his expressions and manners, my chain of musing always get interrupted by eye watering happiness. I never have a problem getting through the 5 deep breaths for my mom. It is always pretty easy to picture her smiling face, alluring demeanor, tenacious will, and radiant disposition. I can't help but regard her as my divine creator. The person who made my beautiful life possible. Once my mindful meditations get past the first 2 in my hierarchy, the rest are less difficult. In each breath I try to channel positive energy to my loved ones, and hope my good karma keeps theirs good as well… I'm aware my unconventional ideals and social habits seem quite bohemian, but it works for me. It keeps me traveling along the right path….

I think I might be missing my family a bit more than usual?!… Sorry to go off on that rant- If you understand that about me- I might make sense to you a bit more?…Anyways, back to my last night in Melaka…Howard, Sam and the rest of the guesthouse dwellers planned a nice going away party for us. Included was more BBQ than anyone could possibly eat, and too many bottles of Lychee Vodka we get from a local bootlegger for an unbelievable rate. Needless to say we were up all night with full bellies and belligerent stories. At one point in the night the black and white cat that frequents the Dim Sum place joined us! I kind of took him under my wing (against Howard's will) and his meowing became an all too frequent sound around the guesthouse…To make a long animal story short- This cat ended up making me cry for hours. I was SO sad to be leaving these individuals I had grown to love, and I cried in the arms of Howard with the black streams of my makeup staining my face. Yes, I was utterly inebriated (you have to understand how little I indulge in booze since leaving America) my tolerance was low and I was feeling vulnerable to emotional attacks. I just thought maybe it would happen while saying our final 'goodbyes' instead of being induced by a hardheaded cat. The next morning I woke up with a slitting headache, a rowdy stomach, and red, puffy eyes. We decided to stay another day…

Melaka was yet another unexpected delight! I would move there any day in a heartbeat. I miss Howard and Sam and think of them so often. I know I will see them again, I just wish I could put them in my pocket and carry them around with me everywhere I go. They are some of the greatest people we have met on our journey around the globe…and we've met some pretty fascinating people...