Hitchhiking in Singapore: Leaving Singapore and Johor Bahru – arrival in Malacca
17th of January, 2025.
A very nice man stops for me in a few minutes. He’s not going to the border but he offers to take me very close to it. He’s a plumber, from Singapore, and he tells me that he works really hard, all the time. He’s 55 years old, and would like to travel and have some quiet time. I tell him he must do it, put a limit on how many hours he works, and live more. He tells me what so many people who work privately tell me, that if he refuses to receive a costumer after working hours, that costume will look for somebody else to do the job, and he will lose one costumer. What have we become? How come we value so much things and having things done, completely neglecting humans life and integrity? We force people to work long hours, just so we have the privilege of always having someone to look for in case we need. What about those people personal lives? Don’t they have the right to rest and to be happy? These kind of thoughts make me very sad…
I walk to the border. That huge and stupid long walk, which make people look like flying monkeys. Walking monkeys. After scanning my passport and officially leave Singapore, on my way out, I am confused by the two main options for which bus to take. There are only signs pointing to which direction you should go, left or right, and then the numbers of the buses, but nothing that can help you, if you are a foreigner, to know which bus should you take to simply cross the bridge and arrive to the Malay border. It wouldn’t be a big deal if it wasn’t for the crazy pace of the people. Why is everybody running? Where are you all going that you must go so fast? Is everybody late? Are all the buses departing immediately? Who’s life are you trying to safe in order to walk so fast? Rushing, rushing, rushing. What a miserable way of living…
Among all this chaos, I meet a young Malay guy, and as we walk, I keep asking him questions about the buses. He explain to me that basically all the buses are the same, and they all go to the Malay border. The differences are about the cards you can use in either this or that bus. You still can pay with cash. We take a regular bus and the fare is 2.60 SD. We talk about travelling. He has travelled a bit around Asia with his family but soon they will go to Norway. I tell him that Norway is one of my favourite countries, and then I give him my Instagram, from where he can get the link for my blog and read some of my stories about Norway, perhaps getting inspiration of places to visit. We part ways when I have to go to the line of “all passports”.
I get wi-fi in a McDonalds and get directions to outside of the city. Luckily, is not so far from here. After walking around this particular area, near the highway, for a while but being unable to find houses where I could even ask to camp, I decide to ask in a mosque.
A lady sees me and as I ask her if she can speak English, she calls someone else. Mr. Ali comes to help me. He is the care taker of the mosque. He is a lovely and kind man, who tells me I can stay here tonight. He then gives me some juice, jackfruit and some delicious chocolate cakes. I also meet some more people, and talk to them, including the chairman of the mosque. One man, Ad, who has travelled to Mexico before and can speak English too, helps me by sharing his hot spot so I can message Sharon, in Alor Setar, so she can let her aunties in Malacca know that I am coming tomorrow.
I also meet Mr. Ali’s daughter, Mya, a lovely and smart girl of 11 years old. We chat for a long time, and she tells me about her school and her family.
The chairman says I should stay inside the mosque, instead of camping outside. The funny thing is that, even though he seems to want to help me, it’s actually Mr. Ali which gives me the feeling of truly caring about my well being for tonight, as he was planning to let me stay inside the mosque, in one of the prayer rooms, instead of in the kitchen, where the chairman says I must stay. So Mr. Ali cleans the whole kitchen, to make sure I have a clean place to put my mattress on the floor. He and his wife live in a very tiny house, just beside the mosque, so I understand why they couldn’t invite me to stay there with them, although I see that they really want to make sure I have a good place to sleep and am safe. They arrange everything for me, using one of the carpets on the floor, and two of those mosquito repellents which are like incense. We all go to bed quite late, around 23.00 hours. After my long day of so much walk, which is following another exhausting day of lots of walking too, I am dying. Still, I must get up before 6 o’clock, when people start coming to pray. I must make sure that I have everything settle and ready to go by that time too. During the night, when I go to the toilet I see that there’s a man sleeping outside.
When a man open the door about 5.30 in the morning (I am locked inside the kitchen and bathroom areas), I start packing all my things, and by 6 o’clock I am already settled outside the mosque and waiting for daylight to leave.
Finding a hitchhiking spot is not an easy task. When I finally get to an acceptable spot, for two times, men in motorbikes tell me that nobody will stop there and take me. Bullshit! Don’t let this kind of people demotivate you! They don’t really know what they are talking about it. And I’m not saying that they do it with bad intentions, no, but I do think people should think twice and be more responsible for what they tell others, mostly when it comes to demotivating people regarding their goals. Plus, as I mentioned before, they really don’t know what they are talking about as I am almost entire sure that they have never hitchhiked before.
A young man in a nice 4×4 stops. He’s smart and honk the horn when he passes by me, which gives me the chance to show him that he can park some 15 metres ahead of where I am standing. I simply thought he was going to Malacca (why I didn’t ask?), and after telling him that I cannot pay, I get in. But he wants to take me to the bus stop, as he is only going to work. Oh, Loki! How I struggle with this. Why someone would be standing on the road, with all their luggage, holding a sign with the name of a city in that country, if they are simply trying to go to the nearest bus station? Is this really to hard to get it?
Anyway… he is a nice man and has travelled and hitchhiked before (for my surprise). And he does drop me off in a better spot, some 10 minutes ahead, by a big gas station.
I stand there for several minutes, with many cars passing by but nobody stopping. Some lovely workers from McDonald’s come and check with me if I’m OK. One of them, the only man, and a Hindu, ask me if I have had breakfast yet. I tell him no but also tell him not to worry. Some minutes later, one of the girls come and gives me a breakfast wrap and a glass of Coke, and she says it’s from him. How sweet! And I must say, the breakfast wrap is really good!
Some time later, he comes over to tell me that if it starts to rain (it seems like) I should just go to McDonalds, so that gives me the chance to thank him for the food, to what he reply that I simply should pray for his mum and that’s everything will be alright. I do that!
A short shower comes and I run to the gas station. That’s because I can still ask the people coming for gas, even while it rains. But as the rain it lasts only a few minutes I come back to the road soon. Well, almost.
As I am almost reaching the road, a tiny young lady, tells me I can come with her to Malacca. She has this tiny bright yellow car, and she’s going to Malacca just for tonight, to visit a friend; tomorrow she will go to Kuala Lumpur. She cannot speak English, although she understand a little. I am so exhausted that I take some short naps on the way. She drops me in the outskirts of Malacca, where her friend lives.
Hitchhiking again, I am picked up by Normalla and her husband Sity. They are coming back from shopping in Lotus, and even though they cannot speak a lot of English, they really try and they are very nice and humble people. Even though the drive is only about 30 minutes to the Gurudwara, we manage to talk about many things. They drop me off right in front of Sahib Melaka Gurudwara.
10 Years Around the World 