By Audie Vinci Batausa

It was four in the morning. With a gentle rain falling from a starless sky, there I was, sitting on the roadside near the toll gate in Ayer Keroh, tired, sad, and afraid. A part of me wants to return home already. I was hiding behind a soda vending machine, drenched in a mixture of sweat and rain, with all of my valuables tucked safely behind me. I have already conjured up different possible scenarios in my head. I see every car that passes by as a possible threat to my existence, or a shudder of hope to my misery. A few steps away was a police station, but the lights were off, and the doors were locked. No one seems to be inside. The only people there were me and the lone toll operator a hundred meters away from where I was hiding.

At this point, you might be wondering how I ended up there. Let me tell you what happened.

I missed the midnight bus going to Malacca in Singapore. The lady in-charge told me that the next available bus was at seven o’clock the next morning. I hurriedly took my phone and started browsing the internet for some other options, as this could possibly disrupt the itinerary I initially planned. As if sensing my desperate call for help, the same lady called my attention and told me that she could arrange for the bus to have me dropped at the town of Ayer Keroh, then from there, I could take another bus for a thirty-minute ride to Malacca. Having no choice, I immediately agreed.

The bus then left a few minutes after I purchased the tickets. After passing through the immigration processes of both Singapore and Malaysia, I nestled myself comfortably at the red corduroy-covered chairs that lined the bus aisle. Tired from the endless walking along Singapore’s infinite and winding roads, I dozed off almost instantly.

I thought everything was going to be in a breeze at that point, but I was wrong.

I woke up to a hand shaking my shoulders hard. It was the bus driver. He was shouting at me in a seemingly gibberish manner. What I understood was that we have already arrived at my stop, and I have to go down immediately. Agitated, I grabbed all my belongings and hastily got off the bus. The bus instantaneously fled the moment my foot landed on the ground.

My eyes were still adjusting to the darkness as I glanced around the area. I found myself in the middle of an almost-deserted road. The only source of light was coming from the nearby tollgate, which casted shadows on the road instead of illuminating it. I initially thought that I would be dropped off in a town center; never did I expect that I would be dropped off in the middle of nowhere. That’s when fear started to sink in. Rushing like the wind, I ran toward the direction of the toll operator to seek help. To my dismay, the operator informed me that the buses that ply through Malacca were still four hours away, and the chances of me riding the bus for Kuala Lumpur are close to zero as it was a weekend and the middle of a Muslim holiday.

I thought tears would flow from my eyes. Feeling helpless, I withdrew toward the other side of the road in search for a safe haven. There, I took refuge behind a vending machine. As I sat still in the blackness and stared blankly into space, I thought about what I should do and the fear that was growing inside me.

Being alone in a foreign land on the opposite side of the planet filled my mind with thoughts that were all a jumble. I was constantly peering over my shoulders to make sure that no one would suddenly pop up and abduct me, or take interest in my belongings. I admit that I may sound exaggerated or too paranoid, but the thought of waiting alone for four hours in the middle of this ominous road was torturous enough to mess with my head.

A dog then decided to accompany me in my solitude. It happily wagged its tail as a sign of friendship, stretched its limbs in a yoga-like position, and then decided to curl up and sleep peacefully near where I was sitting. The tiny water droplets that were caught in its beige-colored coat shimmered like the stars in the evening light. I believe that the dog and I longed for the same thing – companionship. This sense of comfort mutually remained between us, taking up courage in each other’s presence. Its mere existence helped me regain my sanity. Two and a half hours have already passed. The feeling of fear has already fled, yet hunger and exhaustion decided to remain.

At a distance, I saw a blue-colored bus approaching. The paint in its exterior has already started to chip off, revealing a surface of rust. As it drew nearer, I realized that it wasn’t the bus going to Malacca as I was secretly hoping. It whirred past me and stopped twenty meters from where I was sitting. From it disembarked two passengers – a middle aged man around his forties and his young ten-year-old daughter.

They stood there at the roadside as if waiting for something or someone. Desperate for some human interaction, I mustered the courage to reveal myself to them. I learned that their names were Anuwam and Nadira, and they were waiting for a family member to fetch them. In the kindest voice I could muster, I explained to them my misfortune. With no hesitations, Anuwam generously offered me a ride to Malacca, as there was still a seat available in their car. Naturally, I was hesitant at first, but I deduced that if he had some other intentions, he wouldn’t let his daughter be a witness to it. I know my mother would really be angry at me because I entrusted myself completely to someone I do not know, but I sensed something innately good about Anuwam that I decided to take that leap of faith and tag along.

It’s amazing how a complete stranger would drive out of the way for me. They dropped me off at the very center of the historic city and made sure that I was already settled in. They even refused the gas money I offered. No words can truly express how grateful I am to them.

The sun has just started to break through the clouds when we arrived at Malacca. I gazed upon it as it slowly rose over the Melaka River. The rising sun soaked the still waters with a golden hue, creating a captivating reflection of the artisanal shops lined along the river bank.

As I sat there at the bench near the river, I then realized that my recent experience brought me into a different frame of mind. Traveling is really not just rainbows and butterflies, as problems and obstacles are inevitable, especially when you are going solo. But being able to face these challenges head on and get through them gives you that boost that will totally change the way you live your life. My experience in Ayer Keroh could have possibly been a total disaster, but it ended up as the icing on the cake of my travel assignment in Malaysia. This experience changed me forever – and I think that this is the true beauty of traveling.