Ram and I were about an hour into the ride from Kuala Lampur - KL to its friends and I was wandering among the rows of rubber trees, examining the herringbone pattern of scars on the bark where slices had been made allowing sap to ooze into small metal cups, some of which, now rusted, were still attached to the trees. Taking Ram's admonition to heart I chose my steps carefully as I returned to the car.

We resumed our journey to Malacca and I inquired about the snakes. "Yes, they are there. My father worked in a rubber plantation. He always wore high boots and probably killed at least one snake a week." I looked at my sandal-clad feet and wondered if Ram was telling the truth or just having fun with a foreigner.

The city of Malacca and the Straits that bear the same name have always, for me, conjured images of wealth, power, empire and pirates. For centuries Malacca has been the maritime gateway between India and China and numerous countries and cultures have left their mark on the city. In KL I had hired Ram, a private taxi operator whom I had met through a friend, to drive me to Malacca. Ram offered greater flexibility than a tour bus and although the cost of hiring him was about a third more than the tour, Ram's understanding of Malay and Chinese, knowledge of the area, readiness to make suggestions, and willingness to accommodate himself to my interests easily justified the additional cost.

After leaving the plantation Ram suggested stopping at a roadside restaurant for some breakfast and we soon pulled into a small fruit stand/restaurant that consisted of a small kitchen building with a few tables outside on a patio shaded by a corrugated roof; a very common setup in Malaysia. Selecting a table near the kitchen, I said to Ram, "Order what you want. I'll eat most anything, once." The food came quickly and consisted of bread and a plate of marinated vegetables with small pieces of grilled meat mixed in. The food was tasty, its flavor enhanced by a mixture of spices that set off alarm bells in my mouth.

When we finished our meal I decided to buy some fruit. I told Ram what I wanted, and he gave me a dirty look. The fruit stand offered locally grown, native produce: rambutan, mangostein, mata kuching, jackfruit, and durian. I had eaten all of them except the durian. My KL friends told me that it had a mild flavor and was quite popular, but its odor has caused it to be banned in many enclosed spaces. I selected the smallest durian in the pile. Greenish-brown in color, it was the size of a melon with stubby spikes on its surface; reminding me of the balled-up hedgehogs in Walt Disney's 'Alice in Wonderland'. The fruit, which hangs from strings in just about every roadside market in Malaysia, is touted as the 'King of the Fruit', but it is more commonly referred to as 'stinky fruit'.

The woman at the stand sliced the fruit open, revealing a creamy white inside that contained four soft seedpods. The smell, although pungent, was not as overwhelming as expected. I scooped out one of the seedpods with a plastic spoon and took a bite. It had a soft, smooth consistency and a taste similar to mild vanilla yogurt or custard. Not too bad, I thought. Placing the two halves in a plastic bag, I headed for the car. "That wasn't so bad." I said. Ram looked at me, expressionless, "Just wait a little bit." He popped open the trunk of the car, pointed at the bag, and said, "That's going in here!"

We arrived in Malacca about two and half hours after we left KL. I decided to focus on the old town, so Ram left me at Porta de Santiago at the base of St. Paul's hill and we arranged to meet at the same spot three hours later.

Porta de Santiago is a massive stone gate, the only remnant of A'Famosa, the fortress wall constructed by the Portuguese in the 16th century to secure their control of the city and their preeminence in the far eastern spice trade. I began by making the short but steep climb up St. Paul's Hill. It was a gloriously sunny day and the view from the top of the hill provided an overview of Malacca's position as guardian of the sea lane. At the foot of the hill the Malacca River and its harbor opened out into the shimmering waters of the Straits of Malacca. On the western horizon was a thin strip of land, which I took to be the island of Sumatra. From this vantage point it was easy to understand why this location, occupying a commanding position at the confluence of the trade routes, had lured freebooters and conquers long before the arrival of the Portuguese, Dutch, and English.