March 3, Wednesday
Melaka, Malaysia
___AM

I awoke three times this morning.

At 6am, it was because of a small band of cackling young men in the street below. It wasn't yet dawn. I stumbled out to my balcony's ledge to see what was up in my new, supposedly quiet, neighborhood. It was my first morning waking up in Melaka. Ends up they were newspaper delivery boys rolling their morning papers. They leaned comfortably on their circle of scooters while cracking jokes. Why they picked that particular portion of the sidewalk, I had no idea, but obviously, this was a ritual. I stumbled back to bed, humbled that there were no drunks to yell at. Old habits from past lives die hard. I found my way back to bed, lulled by the innocent scene.

I awoke about an hour later to a dramatically loud downpour of rain. It was light but grey out. I smiled as droplets clattered on my humble cement plant fringed balcony. I was glad that I took this room, if for no other reason but for "nature moments" like this. So the mild drought in Malaysia was now broken. The locals (people and plants) would be happy. "You brought the rain with you! You must be lucky!" I remembered my grandfatherly guesthouse proprietor saying, as our small social cluster felt a few drops last night in the food court. We took shelter at new cafe tables under nearby awnings, and continued chatting while ever changing family members and friends visited. The proprietor, an obviously well liked man, made the rounds in the courtyard and fetched exotic herb and fruit iced drinks for our group. Well dressed children continued to twirl and play with the skinny scruffy extremely tolerant street cat. Perhaps this was the price the cat paid for the chance at scraps? Nothing much came of the rain that night, except to cause a mild panic amongst the outdoor food vendors who demanded umbrellas from management to protect their offerings. Now, the morning after, I step out gingerly under my balcony's short awning, barefoot and refreshed by cool air and almost magical quality of the cleansing and quenching rain. Everything looked and smelled fresher. I briefly ventured to the balcony's ledge to peer over the wall for any street activity below. There was barely any. I wondered about the newspaper boys... and the soggy newspapers. I was happy to go back to bed and cacoon, wrapped in the cozy feeling that all was right in this little town... at least for now.

The third time I awoke, it was to the cacophonous celebratory sounds of birds after rain. It was still grey, but blindingly bright, and already warm out. The sounds of exotic whooping birds, grinding scooters, and tooting cars are an incongruous combination for these California raised ears. I am truly someplace different.



March 3, Wed
Melaka, Malaysia
___PM

I ate like a pig today, and I'm still bloated. I also used up all 512MB of my camera's memory chip in one visit to the Sultan's recreated wooden palace. Hurrah for loose clothing and digital technology!

I took both my late breakfast (I missed out on the famed roti canai!), and mid afternoon dinner, at the Malayan food stalls a block from my guest house. Malaysian food truly is different than what I've experienced before. Breakfast was a rather bland square doughy mixed vegie omelet accompanied by a bowl of delicious lukewarm dipping sauce with a dollop of something spicy and fishy, and one bright red very dangerous looking but mild cooked chili. I'd ordered the special on the sign, not knowing how to ask for anything else. In the afternoon (after my trip to the palace) I ventured forth to a nearby Malaysian buffet. I skipped the fish heads and chicken feet, but scooped interesting vegies and sambal on my rice. I cautiously munched on a boiled egg with a disturbingly dark orange mealy yolk that tasted like shrimp paste, and a long bright green plant life that looked like a euphorbia or some exotic succulent that you might pay a lot of money for. The eager to please proprietor, who seemed like a young Indian guy to my untrained eye, patiently and kindly figured out that I wanted the popular lime-aid , and the LARGE bottled water to go. Two local muslim women with headscarves and flowered dresses, seemed entertained and intrigued by my meal adventure. They advised me on the impossibly complicated names of things, and asked about my country and ethnicity. The older lady gave me a thumbs up, and on the way out squeezed my shoulder in a very motherly fashion. Such a nice warm interaction... quite the contrast to most of the people that feel no need to smile during casual encounters. I feel rather alienated by this, and at times feel like I smiled too much. But there are other's like me, and I'm getting the sense that most of the openly smiley and playful folks must be Indonesian, or from somewhere else.

The Sultan's palace was lovely. The interior's museum contents were sometimes cheesy, always ambitious, and overall impressive. I could see how many people wouldn't care a bit for this, but I became thoroughly enamored as I discovered the scope of the portrayal of those days (early 1500s I believe). The wonderful 3 story building replicated the original, including the lack of nails despite elaborate structure and sharply pitched roofs. It was quite oriental. It was filled with life sized historical scenes, mostly portraying the glory days of trade and commerce complete with opulently dressed businessmen (love those skirts and fancy headdresses), and their more humbly dressed lackeys, arriving ashore with spices, gems, weapons, and other trade worthy items. Siamese, Javanese, Chinese, you name it, were represented. Dressed dummies, and murals, depicted ambitious court and fight scenes. There were furnishings typical of the royal life, and plenty of personal chachkies such as jewelry, urns, tea sets, platters, daggers, swords, bed chambers, and curtains.

What a wonderful resource for creating a new illustration portfolio for storybook and animation backgrounds! I left satiated.