Amaranathan attended school at La Salle with me though we weren’t very close then. Quite understandably we lost touch thereafter and it wasn’t until many years later that we bumped into each other again. I had decided to take Mark up to PJ by overnight train, just to give him the experience and for me to relive some of mine.
It was on an overnight train that I had made my very first trip to Singapore in 1980 and in subsequent years I often rode the old steel wagons between my old and new homes.
Stepping off the train at KL Railway Station that morning with Mark, I heard someone call out my name and turned to see a vaguely familiar face who introduced himself as my ex-schoolmate Amaranathan. Amaran, as he was typically called, was working temporarily in Singapore and was making his weekend trip back to Melaka to be with his wife and family. We’d been on the same train and he’d spotted and recognised me as we disembarked.
A gynaecologist, he had gotten himself attached to the KK Women and Children’s Hospital in Singapore for 6 months, just to get more experience. We met up in Singapore quite often after that and became good friends. When I cycled through Melaka in 2007 I dropped by and celebrated one of his children’s birthdays as well.
Now whenever I go through Melaka I try to meet up with him and my other good friend, Singam. I couldn’t get the two together this time so decided to meet Amaran at night and Singam in the morning. That evening Mark and I drove along the coast up to Bert’s which I used to dine/drink at occasionally some years ago. It’s a nice restaurant/pub by the sea - a seaside bungalow with a large wooden deck right out onto the seashore, large trees in the garden, good food and cold beer.
That night I was corrected by one of the staff - Geragau is not pronounced ‘Grago’ as I thought, but is indeed ‘Ge-Rah-Gow’. We ordered that and some other food and a few beers and had an easy, pleasant evening.
Bert’s was almost a victim of the land reclamation works - when once it sat comfortably by the sea, with the waves lapping against the stilts upon which the wooden deck was built, it suddenly found itself some distance back, beached on the dry sands the reclamation works had suddenly transformed that part of the sea into. I have no idea how they managed it and don’t really want to ask, but they somehow contrived to have a breech made and like magic, a lagoon was formed and although the waves no longer come in like they used to, water is once again prettily a few feet from you when you sit down for dinner.
I fear I might have sidelined my dear son a little, as Amaran and I got reminiscing then discussing the current Malaysian situation. Within what seemed like minutes, we’d finished dinner, knocked back a few drinks (not too many as I had to drive) and caught up in that relaxed manner good friends do.
We got back late, were thankful for the private secured carpark and eventually hit the sack ready to get up early for our breakfast with Singam.
Singam arrived the next morning and we strolled off for breakfast at Saravanan, a popular banana-leaf rice place in town. Breakfast was like Chapter 2 of the night before without the meat and the beer, but with all the friendship and good conversation I’ve come to treasure from my friends in Melaka. A walk along the back lane led us back to the Baba House and eventually our own exploring later that morning.
We drove off to Kampung Ayer Salak a place Singam introduced to me in 2007. It’s an interesting village - a Catholic Village in fact, built on land owned or managed by the Catholic Church. Everywhere you turn, there are signs of this village’s religious affiliation. One of the largest of this is the statue of the Virgin Mary built on a slope at a quiet road junction. Mark and I stopped to have a look and this was the first time I noticed that Mary was standing on a serpent. Mark told me that’s how she’s often portrayed.
We drove around a bit and then stopped at the St Mary’s Church and Kindergarten. On these sprawling grounds were a small school, an old church, a newer one, a basketball court and a large grotto. Stunning blue skies framed this scene and I thought it was such a beautiful place to attend kindergarten in. Certainly the memories of those first few schooling/play years would be wonderful ones.
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Singam is on the board of the Montfort Youth Centre and I told mark how my father used to help out with the one in KL too. We once visited and I remember noticing how nice the young boys there were and how earnest they seemed. My Dad explained then that they knew this was their last chance of making something of their lives and they worked hard at it. Youth probably have much wider horizons now, but the complex times they face must surely be the same. Tough situations lead to some poor decisions and places like Montfort serve an important role in helping pick up lives that have perhaps gone too far down the wrong path.
Kampung Ayer Salak is a peaceful and calming contrast to our typical hustle-and-bustle neighbourhoods and I’ve always enjoyed an hour or two here. But soon the call of food became more strident - not hunger but, shamefully probably gluttony (considering our surroundings) was the culprit I think… We drove back to Melaka town and found Sun May Hiong open and bustling.
The staff recognised Mark and I from the evening before and laughingly brought us our food. And oh what glorious food… I’ll wager no one makes Satay as tasty as this. Apologies to those who don’t eat pork, but the satay here is simply fantastic. The succulence of the meat, the texture and tenderness of the liver, the simple flavour of the pineapple-laced sauce, the smokiness from the charcoal pit… mmmmmmMark agreed…
I took the scenic route back and tried to retrace some of my bike route back but missed the steep cemetery-adorned hills around Batu Pahat. We didn’t miss the 2-storey high trishaw on the border though. Some hours later we were back in Singapore.
It was too short a trip, but in this day and age we take what we can. 4 days might be shorter than ideal, but it’s longer than no-days and for that I’m grateful. Almost as grateful for how despite some foolishness on my part, my son is turning out to be a fine young man. Warm, friendly, creative, intelligent, sometimes moody (though not on this trip) in the way many similarly-talented people are, kind and patient with his old man, I’m learning how to be a friend and less a father and I’m relishing it.
It was on an overnight train that I had made my very first trip to Singapore in 1980 and in subsequent years I often rode the old steel wagons between my old and new homes.
Stepping off the train at KL Railway Station that morning with Mark, I heard someone call out my name and turned to see a vaguely familiar face who introduced himself as my ex-schoolmate Amaranathan. Amaran, as he was typically called, was working temporarily in Singapore and was making his weekend trip back to Melaka to be with his wife and family. We’d been on the same train and he’d spotted and recognised me as we disembarked.
A gynaecologist, he had gotten himself attached to the KK Women and Children’s Hospital in Singapore for 6 months, just to get more experience. We met up in Singapore quite often after that and became good friends. When I cycled through Melaka in 2007 I dropped by and celebrated one of his children’s birthdays as well.
Now whenever I go through Melaka I try to meet up with him and my other good friend, Singam. I couldn’t get the two together this time so decided to meet Amaran at night and Singam in the morning. That evening Mark and I drove along the coast up to Bert’s which I used to dine/drink at occasionally some years ago. It’s a nice restaurant/pub by the sea - a seaside bungalow with a large wooden deck right out onto the seashore, large trees in the garden, good food and cold beer.
That night I was corrected by one of the staff - Geragau is not pronounced ‘Grago’ as I thought, but is indeed ‘Ge-Rah-Gow’. We ordered that and some other food and a few beers and had an easy, pleasant evening.
Bert’s was almost a victim of the land reclamation works - when once it sat comfortably by the sea, with the waves lapping against the stilts upon which the wooden deck was built, it suddenly found itself some distance back, beached on the dry sands the reclamation works had suddenly transformed that part of the sea into. I have no idea how they managed it and don’t really want to ask, but they somehow contrived to have a breech made and like magic, a lagoon was formed and although the waves no longer come in like they used to, water is once again prettily a few feet from you when you sit down for dinner.
Amaran and Mark at Bert's
I fear I might have sidelined my dear son a little, as Amaran and I got reminiscing then discussing the current Malaysian situation. Within what seemed like minutes, we’d finished dinner, knocked back a few drinks (not too many as I had to drive) and caught up in that relaxed manner good friends do.
We got back late, were thankful for the private secured carpark and eventually hit the sack ready to get up early for our breakfast with Singam.
Singam arrived the next morning and we strolled off for breakfast at Saravanan, a popular banana-leaf rice place in town. Breakfast was like Chapter 2 of the night before without the meat and the beer, but with all the friendship and good conversation I’ve come to treasure from my friends in Melaka. A walk along the back lane led us back to the Baba House and eventually our own exploring later that morning.
The riverside from the backs of some shops
An old shophouse with a new shop inside
The statue of Mary showing her stepping on a serpent.
The old church
The inside of the new church
The Grotto
The old church
A wider shot showing the new church on the left, the main school buidling on the right and the Grotto in the middle
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At Montfort.
Singam is on the board of the Montfort Youth Centre and I told mark how my father used to help out with the one in KL too. We once visited and I remember noticing how nice the young boys there were and how earnest they seemed. My Dad explained then that they knew this was their last chance of making something of their lives and they worked hard at it. Youth probably have much wider horizons now, but the complex times they face must surely be the same. Tough situations lead to some poor decisions and places like Montfort serve an important role in helping pick up lives that have perhaps gone too far down the wrong path.
Kampung Ayer Salak is a peaceful and calming contrast to our typical hustle-and-bustle neighbourhoods and I’ve always enjoyed an hour or two here. But soon the call of food became more strident - not hunger but, shamefully probably gluttony (considering our surroundings) was the culprit I think… We drove back to Melaka town and found Sun May Hiong open and bustling.
The staff recognised Mark and I from the evening before and laughingly brought us our food. And oh what glorious food… I’ll wager no one makes Satay as tasty as this. Apologies to those who don’t eat pork, but the satay here is simply fantastic. The succulence of the meat, the texture and tenderness of the liver, the simple flavour of the pineapple-laced sauce, the smokiness from the charcoal pit… mmmmmmMark agreed…
I took the scenic route back and tried to retrace some of my bike route back but missed the steep cemetery-adorned hills around Batu Pahat. We didn’t miss the 2-storey high trishaw on the border though. Some hours later we were back in Singapore.
It was too short a trip, but in this day and age we take what we can. 4 days might be shorter than ideal, but it’s longer than no-days and for that I’m grateful. Almost as grateful for how despite some foolishness on my part, my son is turning out to be a fine young man. Warm, friendly, creative, intelligent, sometimes moody (though not on this trip) in the way many similarly-talented people are, kind and patient with his old man, I’m learning how to be a friend and less a father and I’m relishing it.
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