The Beaches of Sihanoukville

Location: Sihanoukville, Cambodia

NP: Way Out West - Mindcircus

Mood: Laid back

Sihanoukville in southern Cambodia is the biggest port city of the country. For us it offered beaches a plenty, from vast stretches of white sand to easy-going bars by the sea.

We tried staying at Monkey Republic, which was Lonely Planet's pick on Serendipity Beach, but though the location would've been good, the bungalow ($10 per night for a twin bungalow) was far too grimy (the white pillows were dark grey with stains), smelly and hot without air-con. We managed to stay there for but a single night.

The pillow at Monkey Republic.

Changing to Sunday Guesthouse (which was much more of a hotel than the Sunday Guesthouse in Phnom Penh) brought all the necessary creature comforts: a working wifi, clean room (with but a few ants on my bed), hot shower and a view over a construction site. However, it was further away from the beach, on a shady side road. We received a twin room with one double bed and one single bed that cost $15 a night. Despite what was advertised, bicycles were not available at the hotel.

Smile Cambodia was a permanent stall-like restaurant by the golden lions circle. It offered easy smiles, inexpensive food of a decent quality, and quickly became our local favourite perhaps mostly due to the prices and the agreeable lady that seemed to cook there from dawn till night, from 7 AM to 11 PM.

Serendipity Beach was filled with bars and restaurants and a few souvenir and art shops. I bought three pieces of art at Makaplo Handicrafts and ate well each day.

Staring at the blue sea from a comfortable chair on the beach with a 50 cent draft beer in hand was as close to heaven as one is bound to reach anywhere. In the distance a bar was playing mellow beach music as the waves broke on the sandy shoreline.

It was my kind of beach, apart from the few pushy vendors that worked the crowd of Caucasian drinkers.

- Hello sir, bracelet?
- No, thank you.
- Why not?
- I don't want one.
- Then you can have two.

Otres Beach a few kilometers away was still quite undeveloped stretch of white sand, though there was a line of bars/restaurants and some guesthouses. It offered a nice bicycle ride from Serendipity Beach, with a chance to swim, though the beach was too shallow for far too long.

And there were more beaches still... but we chose not to explore it all. A visit to city center by bikes reminded us of the fact that despite the mostly quiet traffic and calm atmosphere, Sihanoukville is a fairly large city. Showers of rain stumped our bike ride to a meager, short adventure on the nearby streets.

Relaxed Sihanoukville reminded me of Cha-Am and the calm of its beaches. But what Cha-Am lacked in variety, Sihanoukville had and offered readily. And though still pretty dark at night, it did it in more light than Phnom Penh at least. Plenty of food, cheap drinks, easy shopping and irresistable beaches make it a superbly laid-back destination where I could see myself living for a time.

Perhaps for a long time.

Phnom Penh of Substance

Location: Phnom Penh, Cambodia

NP: Rollergirl - Superstar (Butterfly Remix)

Mood: Unorganized

Disrepair, occasional heavy traffic and ever-present darkness. Discontent about making it before the sun set. It was the essence of Phnom Penh.

When the sun set, stores and services closed their doors. Everything closed too early. Come on! This is the capital of a country! It is supposed to be the shining example to all other cities within the nation. Just like Helsinki was for Finland... Erhh, well there goes that argument.

The Russian market, or Psah Toul Tom Poung by it's proper name, offered claustrophobia and small stalls selling various fakes and souvenirs. Having nearly worn out my Binsin sneakers (there was just a small tear on the bottom and the inner heels were torn, plus there were a few holes on the fabric on top), I sought a replacement and found a pair of fake Timberland walking shoes that fit the bill on the second visit. The saleslady asked for 25 dollars for them, but my cunning and resilient haggling tore through the price tag like a hot knife through butter and we finished at 22 dollars and a complementary pair of socks. Splendid! It was a pleasant haggling experience, however.

We also found a few kramas (Cambodian multi-purpose scarves) at Russian market costing anything between 1 to 4 dollars, depending on size. Haggling was again required and the discount received was very little.

Having spent nine nights in Phnom Penh, we headed onwards to the southern port city of Sihanoukville where large stretches of beach awaited exploration. Six dollars bought six hours on the bus. Soon the streets of Phnom Penh faded away into snapshots from the windows of the bus and the bustle of the day silenced under the moan of the motor as our driver followed a thin trail of bumpy asphalt south. Always to the south...

"Hello sir, tuktuk?"

Location: Phnom Penh, Cambodia

NP: The 69 Eyes - Dance D'Amour

Mood: Placid

Phnom Penh was concrete and crowds and darkness. From the window of the bus I peered at the street names in this dimly lit city and found what I'd been looking for: We were driving on Monivong Boulevard, which is a big street running through the length of the city. The bus took a turn on Sihanouk Blvd and soon stopped. On the seat next to mine, Mika was snoring.

Immediately upon stepping out of the bus a flock of tuktuk drivers set upon us like birds of prey. They wanted too much, $4 for a short trip ($1 would've been a suitable price). We declined and opted to walk instead. One of them kept following us and told us the city was dangerous to walk in. I had told him we were going to Dragon Guesthouse and already had a booking, which we didn't really have. He told us we didn't know where we were going and he did...

The streets were numbered, so finding our way in Phnom Penh was very easy even though the streets were mostly dark. I had seen Monivong Blvd from the window of the bus so heading to the right direction right off the bat was also easy. The tuktuk driver wouldn't receive his pay from us tonight.

After a short walk we arrived at Dragon Guesthouse. Red towels, pink toilet paper and a room (double rooms cost $10) in disrepair didn't make me feel any closer to dragons (though pink toilet paper seems to be a thing in Cambodia) so we decided to change to another place after one night. Sunday Guesthouse just a few blocks away offered a sweeter deal ($10 for a twin room, so just $5 per guest) with accommodation in better shape, though the room was smaller.

The Genocide Museum of Tuol Sleng was a terrible sight to behold. A school converted into a torture center in the 1970s where men, women and children were kept in tiny brick cells, interrogated and tortured until they they confessed to crimes they didn't commit. Now it's a museum that houses photos of the victims (mugshots) and of their tortured, broken bodies. There is also a collection of skulls and bones to finish off the eerie feeling of the place. A very expressive sight, unlike the Killing Fields of Choeung Ek which was far too touristy.

We met a Finnish couple from Hyvinkää at Sunday Guesthouse. Such a shock to hear Finnish spoken by others all of a sudden! Tero and Nina turned out to be such fun company that soon we found ourselves having rom with them at a French bar and going to Heart of Darkness for a mixture of beer and Aikido... but I can hardly remember what happened next.

Suffice to say Phnom Penh kept us entertained for several days. The worst part was probably the early closing times and the darkness of the city. The best parts - cheap beer and the compact size of the center which enabled walking as a form of transport.

Doing that, you could never escape the often repeated shouts of "Hello sir, tuktuk?" though.

"These Asian Girls, Man..."

Location: Phnom Penh, Cambodia

NP: Bad Boys Blue - You're a Woman

Mood: Relaxed

"These Asian girls, man... They're so hot!" said a random tourist we met at a convenience store in Ho Chi Minh City. He was feeling the heat, desperately trying to figure out how to hide the huge amount of money he had just taken from an ATM, and was asking us for advice. We laughed, he swore, and promptly headed back into the busy night of Saigon, bound to lose his money to booze and pickpockets.

But he was right. Thorough empirical research claimed that in the West there were one or two kittens in a dozen. In Thailand there were four, in Malaysia only three, in Vietnam five, and also five in Cambodia.

These are matters of opinion, of course.

But I'd heard it claimed by an Australian already in Bangkok. And repeated in Saigon. Then I'd also seen a Thai man in Hat Yai drool at western bikini models.

Perhaps there was truth to the saying I'd heard once from a Vietnamese lady: "Men fall for beauty, women fall for words."

In the dark nights of Phnom Penh we'd only fallen for a jug of Angkor beer for 6000 Riel ($1,5) and the travelling days still ahead.

The Deep Dark of Cambodia

Location: Phnom Penh, Cambodia

NP: Ozzy Osbourne - Killer of Giants

Mood: Perceptive

After considering sailing up the Mekong River like Captain Willard we finally opted for the bus and a short ferry crossing because it was only a fifth of the price (HCMC to Phnom Penh by bus = $10) of the boat and took less than half of the time (6 hours). We booked the trip for the first time using a travel agent just downstairs from our hotel reception in Ho Chi Minh City.

The bus came to pick us up at the hotel. Our bus company was called Kumho Samco Buslines. They seemed pretty reliable and the guy in the bus asked every passenger if we wanted them to take care of the visas at the Cambodian border for us. Their price was $25, which is $5 more than the visa itself costs... if you can get past corrupted officials for that price, that is. So we agreed, handed them our passports and dollars, and let them take care of the visas.

We crossed the Vietnam - Cambodia border via Moc Bai and Bavet.

On the border there were no hassles, apart from a lost passport of a girl from Darby, England, who was seated next to us on the back of the bus. Her passport was left (by the bus company) at the Vietnamese checkpoint, but the bus company guy went and found it for her within a few minutes. I was glad, because her English sounded lovely after listening to several broken accents at this beautiful language, though we only exchanged a few words.

Kumho Samco Buslines' service was very good. When compared with the Starmart buses we used to get from Malacca to Singapore, there was a vast difference in service. This time we could've even stayed in the bus and let the company handle all the border byrocracy, though that must be dependent on the countries and officials involved. The bus itself was worse than Starmart's luxury coach with massaging seats.

We stopped near the border at a restaurant where I didn't know how to order food. The toilets were Asian.

The road to Phnom Penh was dark. There seemed to be almost no lights in Cambodia, apart from those in private homes or stores that were still open after dark, until suddenly we hit a field that was sprinkled with strange, blue lights about a meter above the ground. It was a bizarre sight in the middle of a black landscape.

The ferry at night. Clear image.

A ferry took us across a river. Soon in the distance loomed a dimly lit set of houses that they called Phnom Penh.

Peanuts Protect You from Ghosts

Location: Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

NP: HIM - When Love and Death Embrace

Mood: Perplexed

Today I leave Saigon for Phnom Penh in Cambodia, so it's time to look back at some of the events that took place in this chaotic city.

The first thing that springs to mind are the people I've met here, most surprising of them being Ky from the reception of Mai Phai Hotel. One night he offered a meal he'd ordered (balut!) to us and Mika hungrily wolfed down the underdeveloped chicken embryo and egg saying it tasted good (like an egg) as I watched in awe. That was the one meal I really wanted him to try, and now it was done, just like that, without requiring any manipulation on my part.

Balut tastes so good!

The next day I brought Ky that bottle of Sangsom that had caused us trouble at the Singaporean border where we'd had to open it. It was a minor gift in terms of value, but it was still something from another country - Thailand in this case. Ky asked if it was safe to drink as is or with ice... Yes, but it's 40% alcohol!

Later he took us to the Reunification Palace, the city zoo, Notre Dame Cathedral and the French-built Post Office. He and Mika went off to Monkey Island as well on another day, as I battled an upset stomach at the hotel. He was of great help during our stay in Vietnam and deserves a big thank you for his time and patience. And maybe a few pretty girls as well.

Kim the Korean was another traveller I met in the lobby of Mai Phai Hotel. It was actually great talking to another traveller who'd been having similar experiences of Vietnam. He was also interested in my earlier trip to South Korea and asked what I thought of Busan.

"Well... I really liked Japan..."

Me in Kyoto, Japan, in 2010.

He hadn't visited Japan, which I thought surprising, seeing how much he seemed to like travelling. Except in Vietnam where he'd just been cheated at a massage parlour (he'd paid 120 000 Dong for a massage, but was asked for 200 000 more after that as a tip before said massage).

Ky at the reception offered us some peanuts. "In Korea they say eating peanuts protects you from ghosts", Kim said as he munched on one.

On our first evening in Vietnam we met a group of Norwegians in a restaurant who said the worst thing you can do here is pay with dollars. Always use Dong. So we did. "Snackar du svenska?" one of them asked loudly. "Yeah, but I prefer not to."

Watching a UEFA 2012 football game (Spain vs. France) in Sports Bar we overheard a group of drunken French louts calling their Vietnamese waitress stupid to her face because she was charging them the wrong amount for drinks. They demanded another waiter. Such directly rude behaviour of course came from the westerners, not the locals. Them being French, for that matter, seemed only fitting. And Spain proceeded to trounce the louts' team 2-0.

So what else is there to say about HCMC apart from the people I met? We got to try some crocodile meat at Din Ky's... which is not much. To be honest, I didn't really like the city. Granted, it's a big city and hanging mostly in District 1 I might've seen the worst of it. To me it was chaotic, too crowded and too noisy. It was too much in your face. You had to be alert at all times and relaxing was difficult, even inside the hotel, because my travelling companion was going peanuts. Eating was not private, the food wasn't particularly tasty and it seemed to rain every day. Hell, even Facebook was banned in Vietnam.

Well, at least the beer was cheap.

The Sounds of Traffic Never Cease

Location: Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

NP: Swallow the Sun - New Moon

Mood: Uneasy

Saigon. Shit, I'm still only in Saigon.

The largest city in Vietnam, Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon) seems like a polluted, aggressive giant on wheels. Hordes of motorcycles rule the streetview in a city that hardly ever seems to sleep, despite the official closing hour at midnight. Cars, buses and even a few bicycles swim amidst the clamor, in the constant stream of motorcycles and mopeds.

The sounds of traffic never cease and the narrow sidewalks are partially blocked by stalls, parked vehicles and trees. As a pedestrian you have to be constantly alert. Crossing the street here is more dangerous than in any city I've ever visited.

The vendors of HCMC are unbelievably aggressive in their marketing methods. Standing by the entrance of a marketplace today invited a shoeshiner to almost forcibly start shining my shoes, despite a firm "no", and I had to walk away to escape his twitching brushings. One even asked to shine my friend's plastic sandals.

Eating outside at a restaurant invited nearly 20 walking vendors to introduce their products to us during the 40 minutes we spent there. Some of them don't believe the first "no" and insist on showing their wares regardless. What seemed to work was turning your head away once the wares were being shown.

"You need boomboom?" a small woman asked my friend suddenly as we were ringing the bell by the metallic gate to get in to the hotel at night.

Where did she come from? Gosh I didn't even see her.

"You want lady?" another one said as she appeared from the dark to stand beside me.

Prostitutes walk the streets at night and follow you on mopeds despite declining their services. It might be frightening if it wasn't so amusing. And it happens every night when you venture out onto the darkened streets from the comfortable shelter of the Mai Phai hotel we're staying at.

After serene Malacca and calm Singapore, it all seems a little too much to bear.

Singapura City

Location: Singapore

NP: Antiloop - Nowhere to Hide

Mood: Blissful

The MRT slid into view from behind the concrete pillars at Aljunied Station. The station was all polished stone and metal and glass. And it was clean. Far cleaner than I was accustomed to by now in all the slums they called cities that I had visited. On the way there it had rained a little. This was in Geylang, one of the shadiest districts in the city. And still it was clean.

A vast urban metropolis with futuristic skyscrapers, strict rules and cleanliness surpassing any other Asian city. This is Singapore, the "nicest place you'll find in Southeast Asia" according to Lonely Planet. I was to spend just two short days here and meet an old friend.

She sat on the bench at City Hall Interchange and smiled at the sunset in Marina Bay. This abstract landscape of skyscrapers, water and park seemed calm and fragile like an illusion that's ready to pop. On the background flocks of tourists failed to capture on film the beauty of their surroundings. And the gay mermaid lion stood as a proud icon of the bay area.

It may be expensive by Asian standards, but Singapore is also efficient, safe and modern. For a large metropolis, it is surprisingly smooth and relaxing. It is a dashing urban monument for future generations of corporate leaders - efficient, strict and to the point.

Epic Gear at the basement of Sim Lim Square in Little India was a tiny computer shop where I'd been invited to meet an old friend I'd met on the Internet over 15 years ago, when I entered the enchanting world of MUDs as a teenager. One of the owners is another friend from the same game, from a time so far away that it seemed almost unreal to meet them.

Blackice and Marlboro in all their glory at Epic Gear.

The name Singapore is derived from the sanskrit words of siMha and pura, meaning "lion" and "city" respectively. With a population of about 5 million this single city-state holds almost as many people as my entire home country, all packed into an area of 697 square kilometers, which is only 0,2% of the surface area of Finland. Yet somehow, apart from a few select places, this enormous population density did not seem overwhelming.

Singapore had much left to offer and much more to be explored. We'd had far too little time, but oh how I had enjoyed it. I left her there on Aljunied station, torn to leave so quickly, so abruptly. The ease of the MRT was something worth noting. Perhaps they could learn a thing or two about this system in Tokyo. Stepping off at Tanah Merah station on the green line, the MRT to Chanqi Airport was already there, waiting. The airport was just two stations away.

Goodbye Singapore. One day I must come back and see you again.

Getting into Singapore

Location: Singapore

NP: Metallica - No Leaf Clover

Mood: Disgruntled

We took the bus from Malacca straight to Singapore for 24 ringgit (6 euros). The bus made a brief stop at Johor Bahru and then continued straight to the border checkpoints. This is how it's supposed to work: You have to disembark the bus at the Malaysian checkpoint, pass the checkpoint and get a stamp on your passport, get back on the bus, step out of it again at the Singaporean checkpoint and board it again for a ride to town. Getting out of Malaysia was easy and without hassles, but getting into Singapore was far from it.

We arrived at the Singaporean checkpoint at about 7 PM. Clearing immigration took us about 30-45 minutes (we had to fill an entrance form and queue), after which we went to declare one bottle of booze per passenger in the toll office (required for those entering from Malaysia). It took us another 30-45 minutes and they wanted us to pay nearly 12 SGD (7.5 euros) of taxes for the two bottles we had.

It was more than the bottles had cost. Thus we wished to leave the bottles at the customs, which also seemed problematic. We couldn't just leave them there for them to dispose of. Instead we would have to wait for this to take place, I suppose, which the official estimated would take 10 minutes. Then, when we seemed hesitant to accept this, another official, probably of higher status, came by and told us it would be okay to take the bottles through customs this time without taxes, but we had to open them up there in the office. Fine, no problems there. Though I was tempted to take a gulp of Sangsom as I opened the bottle.

The problem with the border checkpoint is that there aren't any currency exchange points or ATMs and you are required to take a bus out of immigration - you may not walk out. This would work out well, if the same bus with which you'd come from Malaysia would wait for you.

Ours had not.

It wasn't really surprising, seeing how long it took for us to get past the checkpoint. We noticed most of the buses waited for just 10 minutes before moving on after arriving. So now the officials adviced us to wait for the next bus from the same company. That should take us into the city.

So we did.

Singapore's strict rules - a sign by the river in Singapore.

After about an hour of waiting, a bus from Starmart (which was the company that had taken us to the border from Malacca) arrived. We asked the driver if there was room on the bus for us. He asked us to wait for his original passengers to board first. So we did. After about 10 minutes, the driver went in to see how many seats were left on the bus. There was only one, so he could not take us into town. He told us to wait for another bus from Starmart that he claimed would be there in just 10 minutes.

We waited for an hour.

I went to ask the customs officials for advice again and they said they didn't know the schedules for the buses and had no idea if another bus from Starmart would be there today. They suggested we use a taxi that would cost us about 30 SGD (18.7 euros) or wait some more. We asked if we could get a ride on one of the other companies buses to which they responded by telling us the other companies usually didn't allow this, but that we would be welcome to try and bargain with the drivers for passage.

A notice at Chanqi Airport.

We decided to wait for a while longer. The whole experience was getting on my nerves.

When less and less buses started appearing at the border (with none from Starmart), we decided to try and bargain with the drivers. The first driver declined, but the second one agreed to take us into the city for 20 SGD. We told him we had no local currency. He then accepted Malaysian Ringgits. 50 of them would do (about 12 euros). The price was far more than the entire bus trip from Malacca had cost us, but it seemed a cheaper option than a taxi.

The bus took us to town and dropped us off at Novena at 2 AM. In the end we had to take a taxi (costing 8 SGD) anyway, because the locals in Novena didn't know where Little India was nor could they point north or south for us...

Tired, disgruntled and sweaty we arrived at the hostel we'd planned on staying at only to find out it had closed its doors two years ago. There was another, much more expensive hotel in its place from the same hotel chain. The receptionist kindly pointed us to a nearby guesthouse with dormitory accommodation on Dunlop Street (costing 28 SGD per night) that, as we later in the night found out, was filled with cockroaches.

Ahh, the pleasures of travelling... But at least we had beds and a roof over us. It would do for the night.

The Sad Goodbye

Location: Malacca, Malaysia

NP: Mors Principium Est - Into Illusion

Mood: Wistful

Malaysia was supposed to be a relatively short stop for us, but here we are, still in Malacca after 15 days. The city took us by storm when we had little expectations. Perhaps this, as it is with movies, is the correct way to experience new places. With no expectations there are no disappointments, only surprises.

This time our focus was shifted from nightlife and drinking to food and limited exploration. Part of the reason is the high price of beer, but also this city seems ill-suited for the young and reckless. It can be enjoyed much more by the mature and cultured.

We have not even visited the Pure Bar, which I hear is the only real nighttime stomping ground in the city. No, this city requires a different outlook.

Most of our exploration has been focused on Chinatown, which is really close to the hotel after we found the shortcut through a building I mentioned in an earlier post. They have a big night market on Jonker Street every weekend and the Chinese karaoke on a stage at the end of the street is both amusing and loud.

Yesterday we also visited Little India, which is very little indeed, and tried some Nyonya Nasi Lemak - a dish of rice cooked with coconut milk, chicken, peanuts and small, crispy fish. This time, unlike the first time we tried it (Ipoh Nasi Lemak at Mahkota Parade's food court), it was very good. There's not much to be said about Little India here though. It's too small to merit a visit and the best local Indian restaurant (Pak Putra) is not located there.

It must be said that the food court in the Mahkota Parade mall is quite poor. Though there are many vendors and I've eaten four dishes there, none of them have been good. Otherwise the mall is quite nice, though it could use more free seating (there are many massaging chairs around that cost to use and make a sound if you sit in them without paying for the massage function).

Small amounts of culture have also trickled through our daily eating frenzy. Apart from the European architecture and fortifications, there are some sights to be seen from earlier inhabitants. One of them is the Cheng Hoon Teng Temple (Green Clouds Temple). Being built in 1673, it claims to be the oldest functioning Chinese temple in Malaya. It is open to visitors daily and some of the altars are engulfed with serene chanting.

Malacca had been good to us, but tomorrow we will be saying goodbye to the city. We will be saying goodbye to our friendly receptionist and the taciturn but lovely Chinese nightman at Kota Lodge, to the game-playing son and the serious mother at the Kappan House and the pretty Vietnamese waitress at Far East Cafe, to the bats that shriek in the night over Jonker Street, the staff of How Kuai and the elderly lady at the gym, to the lady at the laundry house just across the street, the Chinese man who taught us how to dine in the local Chinese restaurants and the many vendors on the night market every weekend.

Mika and Maymay, the receptionist at Kota Lodge.

Thank you. See you again soon, I hope. Or perhaps never again.

Tomorrow we leave for the futuristic expanse of Singapore's urban sprawl where I'll be certain to reap some new experiences, first of them being the wonder of dormitory accommodation...

I am cautiously optimistic.

The Running Man

Location: Malacca, Malaysia

NP: Guns N' Roses - You Could Be Mine

Mood: Energetic

The sun was up and the rugged road felt harsh under my slim soled Binsin sneakers. Cars lined the parking lots and filled the streets. It was difficult to run among such commotion so I steered to the smaller, bleaker streets. They lead me into a residential area by the river. Locals stared at me from the shade of their restaurants as if I was a madman. As if only madmen ran at this hour of the day.

It seemed so safe here. It was getting familiar. Getting lost seemed difficult, if not impossible. The lady at the reception had hollered a cheerful "hello" and "good morning" as I'd passed her.

Cars. They were everywhere. Even on these smaller roads you had to keep an eye out for traffic. Through the headphones of my mp3 player Axl Rose claimed I could be his.

My Sansa Clip+ mp3 player had been essential on this trip. It would keep me entertained through long rides and packed flights, through hours of road and crowded airports. It had told me of the troubles of Honor Harrington on Basilisk Station and articulated Stephen King's opinions on writing. It would switch off the noise of the world when that was what I needed.

Two large, crazy dogs of brown and black barked at me as I approached their den by the road. One was in a cage, but one was free, taking shelter from the merciless sun under a car. They barked and growled and bared teeth. I kept approaching. A local man parked his car at a neighbour's house next to the dogs, but decided to remain inside the car and just honk. Someone appeared on the balcony.

The caged dog slammed against the rickety chain-link fence, growling furiously. And I approached with all the brash abandon Pretty Maids' "Eye of the Storm" playing on the mp3 player could muster. Which was not much. Wild eyes glared at me from under the car and the beast's ferocious barks sounded like thunderclaps in my ears.

And then I was past.

The water of the shower felt cool on my sweaty skin. For a moment the water stopped abruptly, leaving me abound with soapy ooze, but after a minute continued again as if nothing had happened.

Nothing had happened. Nothing needed to happen. To be and to breathe it in was all that was required. There were no worries.

Still in Malacca

Location: Malacca, Malaysia

NP: Metallica - One

Mood: Spirited

What a strangely attractive city Malacca is. It hides many little things unnoticeable at first glance. I'm not sure I'd care to leave, though I know that soon we must move on. This is my tenth day here.

I'm still discovering new things about this place every day. Just this morning I finally realized the inner workings of a place called Pasar Taman Kota Laksamana, which is a bazaar across the street from our hotel we'd never seen open. Today I noticed that it's open early in the morning and closes at midday or even before! Many customers visited the place today, but they're all gone by the time we usually wander outside the confines of Kota Lodge, our hotel.

Today I noticed them because yesterday we finally switched to a room with a window and a balcony.

Last evening we visited a gym located at the far end of Jonker Street. We had always had to walk a route that was nowhere near as straight as we would've liked, because tightly built buildings blocked direct access to Jonker Street from here. Yesterday, when on our way to the gym, we noticed an elderly Chinese woman with a bicycle and a red helmet moving through a secluded building with an open iron gate in front. She stopped by the gate and looked at us. We were still staring at her, looking puzzled. What was that building? Could we get across from there?

She said something to us and pointed on the other side of the building, to the direction she'd just come from. I asked something similar to "Can we pass through there?" to which she responded by beckoning us over. So we went through the gate, thanked her, walked through a building which housed a private parking lot and appeared on Jonker Street! Thank you, Chinese lady with a red helmet!

We've also already found no less than three favourite restaurants here: Far East Cafe, How Kuai Restaurant and Pak Putra. Each one serves excellent food that has a decent amount of meat in a portion. Far East Cafe has a Vietnamese cook, we learned, and the slightly expensive (13 ringgit - 3,25 € + extra for rice) pork dishes there are superb.

Pineapple pork and rice at Far East Cafe.

How Kuai was a strange find - it's small and often closed, but if you manage to get in, try the black pepper chicken chop. For just 5,5 ringgit (1,4 €) you'll give your tastebuds a bit of peppery heaven.

Black pepper chicken chop at How Kuai.

Pak Putra is a well-known local eatery (it's even mentioned on Lonely Planet) just on the other side of the block from our hotel. It's pretty packed every night, but the combination of chicken dishes (8,5 ringgit - 2,1 €) and nan bread (about 2,5 to 3,5 ringgit) is delicious.

Also, don't forget to try the local specialties: Nonya food (which you can get at Far East Cafe), pineapple tarts (delicious! But get them from LW Nyonya Pineapple Tarts House on Jonker Street because quality varies a lot) and Cendol (though not my favourite, it was alright and different, like a mixture between icecream and milkshake with odd bits).

I notice I'm getting hungry as I write this. Maybe it's time to wake up my snoring travelling companion and wander outside for a bite to eat.

Damn it - I forget. None of these restaurants opens before 5 PM.