And goodbye Carl, who stayed in Penang, downloading music, so that his laptop would be stacked, when he went to Africa. I woke at 5 and crept out, without putting on any lights, and consequently managed to leave my Kindle behind, with all the books I intended to read this part of the trip. Bummer!!
It was still dark at 6.30, as I and all the local passengers walked onto the ferry to take us to the mainland. No-one said a word. Not a chatty time of day. I managed to find the train station and sat down to wait for the train.
On the train, screens at the ends of the carriages show kung fu videos, interspersed with advertising for all the different routes and different classes of travel available. The movies are in English but the sound track is turned right down, so you can't hear any of the dialogue, but there is so much action, gun fighting, car chasing that it doesn't much matter.
Outside, the endless palm oil plantations are occasionally broken by the odd battery chicken farm, prawn farm or cluster of corrugated iron roofed single storey houses. Occasionally there are stretches of rice fields, coconut palms with layers of blue mountains in the distance. There are huge road building projects. It's raining on the east coast, which might explain the mackerel sky over us all the way.
At one point the railway track goes right through the middle of a lake, surrounded by forests and mountains, then through a swamp, with spikey swamp plants. About two hours into the journey the train went up over some thickly forested hills, through lush, wild jungle, looking down into wild green valleys. I wanted this to last forever, but all too soon we were back on the flat, looking at more palm oil plantations, almost always running along beside a row of hills,
I shared a taxi with two Chinese Malay PhD students, both studying in England, into Melaka. I checked into an old guest house that has maybe seen better days. The entrance hall is impressive, with a beautiful old carved screen and all the upstairs floors are old, polished teak, but the place looks uncared for and a bit dirty. My room is OK and cheap enough. But I have come to the canalside, quiet and peaceful, with tourist flat bottomed boats going up and down. The canal path is paved with red tiles and lit by old style street lamps. Little houses, bars, restaurants and hotels line the canal paths on both sides. This bar is run by an Australian, who plays piped jazz and seems to have a Malay wife.
It was still dark at 6.30, as I and all the local passengers walked onto the ferry to take us to the mainland. No-one said a word. Not a chatty time of day. I managed to find the train station and sat down to wait for the train.
On the train, screens at the ends of the carriages show kung fu videos, interspersed with advertising for all the different routes and different classes of travel available. The movies are in English but the sound track is turned right down, so you can't hear any of the dialogue, but there is so much action, gun fighting, car chasing that it doesn't much matter.
Outside, the endless palm oil plantations are occasionally broken by the odd battery chicken farm, prawn farm or cluster of corrugated iron roofed single storey houses. Occasionally there are stretches of rice fields, coconut palms with layers of blue mountains in the distance. There are huge road building projects. It's raining on the east coast, which might explain the mackerel sky over us all the way.
At one point the railway track goes right through the middle of a lake, surrounded by forests and mountains, then through a swamp, with spikey swamp plants. About two hours into the journey the train went up over some thickly forested hills, through lush, wild jungle, looking down into wild green valleys. I wanted this to last forever, but all too soon we were back on the flat, looking at more palm oil plantations, almost always running along beside a row of hills,
I shared a taxi with two Chinese Malay PhD students, both studying in England, into Melaka. I checked into an old guest house that has maybe seen better days. The entrance hall is impressive, with a beautiful old carved screen and all the upstairs floors are old, polished teak, but the place looks uncared for and a bit dirty. My room is OK and cheap enough. But I have come to the canalside, quiet and peaceful, with tourist flat bottomed boats going up and down. The canal path is paved with red tiles and lit by old style street lamps. Little houses, bars, restaurants and hotels line the canal paths on both sides. This bar is run by an Australian, who plays piped jazz and seems to have a Malay wife.
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