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I had wanted to write this entry about a month ago, but time just didn't allow me to do so. On top of that, my PC still has that nagging virus problem which will just discourage me from being online long enough to do this. But I'm here now, and no matter what, I'm going to do this. FR needs an update anyways.

Last month I took a trip back home, to Malacca, my hometown. It's a small city about two hours drive away from Kuala Lumpur, where I live now. This place is kinda like the location where our country's rich history began. Our country's imperial ruling started here, and it went on for about 111 years until the Portuguese came and took over. Then 120 years after that, the Dutch conquered Malacca, and then later the British assumed rule. Our country finally gained independence in 1957. But the remnants of all three foreign forces are still visible in Malacca today.

OK, that's the history lesson. Much as I'd like to show you some historical locations of my hometown, I didn't take any of those pictures when I went back. Perhaps someday I will. But what I really wanted to talk about, was my life here. This was the house where I lived the first nine years of my life. It doesn't look like much, does it? I remembered it had a nice big yard in the back, where I would play catch with my cousin's dog. I think his name was Kester. I used to be afraid of that dog, even though he wasn't that big. I was always afraid he'd bite me. But he's fun to chase around sometimes. What amazes me about this house is that after all these years, the doors are still the same kind. It's the wooden slide type, which I haven't seen on any house in other neighbourhoods I've been to. I wonder who lives in there now.
This was my primary school, where I went to study when I was seven to nine years old. The name of the school visible on the wall there means 'Bandar Hilir National School, Malacca'. Bandar is the Malay word for town, and Hilir means downstream. On the day I took this picture, I stepped up to the front gates and looked in, and I vaguely remembered my days there. My mum looked in too, and she said she still recalled where my old classroom was.

This is a picture of St. Francis Institution, my secondary school. I studied here when I was sixteen and seventeen years old. (Yeah, I know there's a gap between my ages, that's another story for the future) This is an old school, as you can see it's over a hundred years old. I didn't quite have fond memories of this place. School life wasn't an exciting time for me, because I was one of a handful of kids who would spend their time studying while the other majority spent time picking on kids like me. I've been to five schools during my younger years, and in almost every one of them, I had trouble with bullies. Had no idea why they always had to pick on me, I guess I was an easy target. But the point of going to these places is to get a good education, and to some extent, I thank the good teachers who helped me get past my SPM exams and all in between.
This is our quadrangle, where we would line up for assembly every morning. You know, in retrospect, the way the teachers used to ask us to assemble made me think that we were in prison sometimes. Look at the picture, on the highest floor. See that door which is partially open? That was my classroom back then. I would have loved to take more pictures, but I was just fortunate enough to take these as the school security guard only gave me a short time to walk in.

I had come back to Malacca many times, usually to eat my favourite foods, which are only available there. But this was the first time in a long time that I went back to see where I had been over a decade ago. I only wish I had more time to take more pictures. Perhaps someday I'll get to show you more.

You know, there are times when I wonder if I had wasted my youth back in the day. Maybe I feel that way because most of my friends are younger than me, and they had accomplished so much already. I guess I need to learn how to let go and grow up a little more.