When leaving London I saw an advert which claimed the city never slept . While it is true of the addicts and thieves, it is less true for the services and infrastructure. Ideas of open and close and start and finish are much more transient in other countries, particularly in Asia.

Because of this a pre-break of dawn stroll through a closed-up street market doesn’t make one feel nearly as vulnerable as it should. Within each little crevice and behind each market stall there is bound to be a makeshift kitchen serving up bargains to late-goers and early-comers alike.

Soft greys and blues drape the city at dawn, revealing a deeper side to its character unperceivable in the force of the midday sun. The colonial buildings almost begin to complement the huge sky rises all around them.

At dawn our senses are more open to the smells around us. The markets of Little India and China Town abound with oils and spices from the night before, while the early diners add to the broth for the day ahead.

It was in such a scene that I caught my early morning bus to Melaka, an old colonial town on the south-western coast of the Malay Peninsula. I managed to limit myself to a couple of rotis for breakfast, reasoning breakfast would be cheaper in Melaka, and I set on my way.

The bus was very reasonable – around £2.50 each way – and far more comfortable than your average National Express. It sped through suburb after suburb, traditional Malay and high-rise. I was impressed with the sight of Malay development, at least from the roadside.

I had not yet seen any of the poverty expected of South East Asia, and I wondered if Malaysia would soon be joining the elite club of developed nations. A couple of days later I was to learn what these suburbs looked like close up, with the makeshift shacks shattering any lingering delusions of prosperity. It seems the Government does its best to hide the poverty from the roadside.

I arrived into the charming harbour town of Melaka to be met with the huge Tescos that greets all arrivals at the not-so-central Melaka Sentral Bus Station. Maybe it was wishful thinking on the planner's part, but whoever named the interstate bus terminal failed to take into account it was a 45 minute bus ride outside of town. Anyway, find the right bus I did thanks to a friendly Thai couple and we were on our way.

Some more quaint Malay suburbs, interspersed with Japanese super malls later, we found ourselves dumped by the dual carriageway, tourist map in hand. Luckily we could orientate ourselves via the truly second-rate London Eye, known as the Eye of Malaysia. More planner optimism as it stood barely 100 ft tall. We deduced a stroll off to the left would send us towards the historic town centre.

I bid the Thais goodbye and went on my way, although I was to continuously bump into them throughout the day. I was searching out a wi-fi signal so I could look at a town map online and found myself a place in a shopping mall coffee shop.

It was at this point that a rather over-friendly German came over to question me about my netbook. I gave him the rundown on the Asus EeePC and then asked how I could best access the historic town centre. He seemed to know the way and offered to guide me, but due to my unfinished coffee I declined and thanked him anyway.

I stayed for 5 minutes, found my bearings on an internet map and got up to leave, only to find the German stood right in front of me. Slightly shocked, I asked if he was still heading in that direction, to which he said he was and off we went.

The man seemed to be on holiday, perhaps a yearly trip out to Asia that he treated himself too. At first he seemed to warm to the Asian culture, saying that he initially enjoyed the smiles and laughter of Asians, particularly compared to rather stern Northern Europeans. I agreed and laughed, but wondered what was coming next.

"I used to like all that, when I first came, but now I've realised why it is, it annoys me. Basically they are still children, even the 40 year old men are mentally children. That's why they laugh so much."

I was taken aback. He seemed so mild and even charming, but he seemed to hate Asian people.

"They only see me as money. I'm just dollars to them. They always ask for more, and when they get it they spend it on rubbish!"

I stopped replying at this point, looking for an opportunity to part ways. The conversation had moved onto how Asians couldn't look after their cultural heritage when a group of Malaysian students interrupted us.

They were four girls, all from the Muslim University. They introduced themselves and said they were doing a task and had to teach some Malay to foreigners. At this point the German retorted:

"That's it in Asia, it's just me, me, me."

The girls were shocked and embarrassed. I apologised and insisted there was no problem. The German goose-stepped off into the distance, never to be seen again. I spent the next 10 minutes learning a Malay phrase which goes 'Keralan Musul Bian Babisan.' It means:

‘What you say destroys your soul.’

It was a pity the German didn’t stick around to learn the lesson, although I doubt he would have heeded it.

I spent the day wandering around the town in the heat of the midday sun, joined by mad dogs. The colonial architecture was very quaint and starkly different from the architecture of Kuala Lumpur.

The city reminded me of Valletta in Malta, as it was a series of maze-like streets with chocolate-box shops and fairy tale scenery. Influence has been retained from Portuguese, Dutch and British periods of dominion. No matter what you think of Colonialism, it was definitely a boon for global architectural heritage.

After a long afternoon of sightseeing I caught the bus back to the big city and settled down to sleep. Still without a full night’s sleep since arriving, I was hoping the tiredness and a head full of Melaka memories would ensure an end to that.