After collapsing into bed yesterday I stayed there until the morning. Hardly got any sleep as I had a temperature high enough to boil eggs on. 
I’ve never been this warm before. Strange thing though, I did not sweat like I normally do when I run a fever. But I just tossed and turned and messed up Katja’s sleep as well. Katja went down to gym for an hour in the morning while I still kept in bed. I got down for breakfast, but couldn’t really manage eating anything. Back up I the room, back into bed. Bus leaves at 14:00 so we can stay in the room to check out at noon.

I pull myself together, or rather Katja pulls me together, and we ride the LRT over to Puduraya bus station. We saw online that the bus to Malacca went from KL Sentral, but that turned out to be wrong. We actually booked this hotel to be near departure point based on this. Luckily there’s less people on the trains at midday and we get there easy enough. Still, feeling like an dead guy I collapsed in the seat and just looked at Katja buying us tickets. We got to put our bags in the ticket booth and went out to get supplies for the ride. Katja got a light lunch and a coffee, I stayed happy just watching her. I did manage to get a coke. Ice cold coke. If there ever was a medicine…

On board the bus I didn’t have someone in the seat behind me and put mine all the way back. I’m almost horizontal and I pass out. The first two hours of the ride passed by rather quickly. The next two a bit slower, with me drifting in and out of dream state. I didn’t have the energy to listen to audio books or watch a video I just wanted to sleep.

Arriving in Malacca we got a taxi to the hotel and got into our new little home. The room is about the size of the bed from where we just departed, but it’s clean.

I should eat something so we walk towards Junker Walk, the famous market street in town. It’s a short fifteen minutes walk, unless you go with Katja, then it’s half an hour. “Look! Take picture.” I can’t complain though ’cause she’s been the photographer on this trip so far.

Having relatively little taste for Indian food, or anything Asian at the moment, we look for a place that serves western food. We find it, order pasta, and it taste like shit. I force some of it down anyway and wash it down with coke. Then we walk back to the room and I collapse in bed, again.

“Travel is glamorous only in retrospect.”

– Paul Theroux