Ipoh or Bust
I s 5am morning or night? It was dark outside. Does that have a bearing on that dilemma? I'm not sure. I'd not been to Ipoh (Perak, Malaysia) since my old mate Jules had flown over to visit his father's grave in God⁶s Little Acre, Batu Gajah. That was way back in 2017. It's now 2024. Jules has since joined his father, not in Perak but in whichever haven old white lovers of Asia go to when they die. At the start of the journey, and in my naivety, I had expected some Bogartian quip, perhaps regarding buckling up, bumpy rides and whistling, but no. This was Malaysia. Different culture. In total, it took just over two hours and a half to transverse the Malaysian North/South Highway, then the back roads, from Kuala Lumpur to Ipoh. We’d edged alongside the undulating mountain range which dissects the Malay Archipelago (the Titiwangsa Mountains), oil palm plantations and, in-car conversations which had, inevitability, revolved around food and kopi (coffee). Both of which Ipo
