Leaving Seremban with Gratitude
On December 20th, I began my day in Seremban. Originally, I had planned to camp in the garden of my host's home, but they kindly suggested, "You can sleep in the room if you'd like." Thanks to their generosity, I slept soundly under a roof.
The next morning, I finished adjusting my bike and setting up my equipment. Most of my luggage had been shipped ahead to this house in Seremban while I was still in Kuala Lumpur. This was because I couldn't find a proper front rack for my new bicycle, making it impossible to carry heavy bags at the front.
My host had warmly offered, "If you're heading to Seremban, feel free to send your things here." Thanks to that kindness, I was able to ride light and comfortably up until this point.
Riding Toward Malacca
With everything ready, I set off toward Malacca, the historic city once known as a key point in East–West trade. Personally, I love walking through places where history still lingers in the streets. Malacca had been on my list for a long time.
But adventure always comes with surprises. Following a GPS route, I found myself on what looked like the shortest path—only to discover a muddy track stretching for two kilometers.
I have a weakness for "back roads." The word itself sparks my curiosity. I always want to know: why is this place called a hidden path? So, despite knowing it might be troublesome, I went in.
Within seconds, mud splashed against my legs, and a wave of discomfort rose from my feet. Yet after only ten seconds, my body adjusted. Human adaptability is truly amazing. The real worry wasn't myself—it was the bicycle. Mud can easily cause mechanical problems. But this time, nothing broke. Instead, my bike looked like it had gained a bit of "adventurer's spirit," and I smiled at the sight.
First Impressions of Malacca
After another ten kilometers, I arrived in Malacca. I had pictured quiet, historic streets, but instead many spots were filled with shops pushing souvenirs to tourists. At first, it felt different from what I had imagined.
Then I reminded myself—this was a port that prospered for centuries as a hub for traders from many nations. The desire to sell to visitors must have grown along with the city's culture. Seen that way, the lively commercial atmosphere made sense. It was another reminder of how history shapes the present.
Meeting a Fellow Cyclist
The next morning, I left Malacca with a sense of gratitude. December is the rainy season in Malaysia, and I was worried about the weather, but the skies blessed me with sun.
As I pedaled south, I saw a figure approaching on the road—another long-distance cyclist. My heart raced with excitement. Encounters like this are rare, and as a solo traveler, I deeply wanted to connect.
She was also traveling alone, aiming to cycle across 100 countries. She had already passed through more than 40. I admired her courage. But I also believe—even someone who has only visited one country by bicycle deserves respect, simply for daring to take on the challenge.
We talked for about ten minutes, sharing our thoughts, future goals, and even campsite ideas, before going our separate ways. Encounters like this never fade. I hope we meet again someday.
Rain, Food, and Shelter
Around midday, I stopped for lunch—Roti Telur, a thin bread stuffed with egg. I appreciated that the stall clearly displayed both the dish name and price. Many places don't list prices, so you have to ask. Small details like this build trust.
Back on the road, I headed toward Batu Pahat. The path stretched straight ahead, calm and simple, until the skies broke after three hours. Heavy rain poured down, then stopped, only to return again. I took shelter and ordered rice, chicken, and soup at a small stall. The couple who ran it were so kind, and I felt at ease.
Eventually, the rain let up. With water refilled and energy restored, I pushed on for the last ten kilometers. That's when fate intervened.
A white car pulled over ahead, and the driver came out to chat. After a short conversation, he asked, "Do you have a place to stay tonight?"
Although I already had plans, I said, "I'm not sure yet." Immediately, he replied, "Stay at my place."
It wasn't just about needing shelter—I had a strong desire to connect with locals. It felt like something new and meaningful was about to happen, so I accepted.
His home had plenty of space for my bicycle and laundry, and the room was quiet and comfortable. Over dinner, I learned that he himself had once cycled from Europe to Malaysia—an incredible journey. Meeting someone like him here felt like destiny.
That night, I went to bed feeling deeply grateful.
