Stepping out into the hotel dining room, there is a feast of wonders. Western and local offerings that prove hard to resist. The novelty of being in Asia has not worn off and the chicken porridge with all the condiments proves a popular dish. I opt for steam buns and noodles and Bruce looks on in amusement, used to me enjoying Western breakfasts.
We walk around Melacca in the steamy heat, bumping into people and admiring the trishaws, each adorned with individual designs. National day sees us lining the streets with colourful parades marching past. Happily exhausted we walk up to an old fort on a hilltop and admire the view. Below us we see a majestic Malay building and we walk down to the back of it.
We are puzzled that the building is deserted and wait to see if the building is accessible for tourists. I answer comes soon when we see signs of visitors with cameras who enter the building. With anticipation we follow and find ourselves inside a palace, a replica of one that was burnt down. Fascinated we wonder around taking note of the Portuguese, Dutch and British history of Melacca to present day.
We exit having been educated about Malay customs and culture and walk in the opposite direction from whence we came. Perplexed we see a long line of visitors waiting to pay to go into the building. Not being able to speak the local language we fervently make a quick exit.
We are not game to try and explain to the guards at the entrance gate how we obtained access, never mind that we had already visited the palace. Imagining we might be arrested, we quickly walk away down a side street making sure no one is following.
I really need to get my act together if I am to keep my nose clean!
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