How the Sun Sets in Ipoh

I’m not a god, nor an architect of creation. If I grasped the intricacies of existence, maybe I’d claim a touch of divinity. But here I am, a wanderer bewildered by my own nature. “You hold dominion over everything in this world,” someone once told me. Yet, I never sought to connect with the myriad creatures around me. It’s an invitation to spontaneity, to trust that unspoken “gut feeling,” which, ironically, I struggle to hear. To conquer this challenge, I must bring my best self.

Nights are heavy with dread, and the eve of my departure was no exception. As I walked to dinner, a jarring thought struck: “What if I vanished into thin air right here? What if I became just another tale whispered in this small town?” My family and friends were blissfully unaware of my whereabouts, and the idea of absence, of being lost and disconnected, was terrifying. Strangely, though, this very notion stirred a sense of satisfaction within me, a thrill in stepping away from the ordinary into the unknown.

So here I stood, fresh from the serene embrace of Tanah Rata, poised to plunge into the historic depths of Ipoh. The tranquility of Tanah Rata had nourished my spirit, while Ipoh beckoned with its own promises—whispers of charm mingled with a hint of eerie quietness.

I had a bus to catch at 9 AM, which meant my alarm needed to ring promptly and my preparations had to be swift. The Chinese host at my hostel, perhaps weary from countless farewells, barely offered a goodbye. It stung a little, but let’s face it—goodbyes as a traveler often feel like those pesky flies you can’t quite shoo away.

Taylor, you remember her from my ‘Long Walk to Freedom,’ was also on that bus. She was off to Penang, my next stop after Ipoh. Part of me felt like, “Hey, this is cool!” but it was more like a delayed goodbye. Yet, my stubborn heart whispered we’d cross paths again in George Town, Penang.

Arriving at the Ipoh bus terminal was a pleasant surprise. It was organized and clean—oh, how I envied that! Stepping into Ipoh felt like Taylor’s words were coming to life; the town had a ghostly quietness that hung in the air, almost surreal. The streets seemed to be trapped in a time warp, giving off an eerie yet intriguing vibe.

The past came alive in the colonial-era buildings that lined the streets, each facade telling tales of a bygone era. As I wandered, I could almost hear the echoes of footsteps from generations long gone. Just when I thought I was getting comfortable, my Grab driver, perhaps a bit too enthused by the town’s ‘quiet,’ decided to take the scenic route, giving us a thrilling (or terrifying) taste of a not-so-fun rollercoaster ride.

Now, let me introduce you to my home for the Ipoh chapter – De’ Cafe and Rest House. Here, the staff actually spoke to me. One lady even cracked a joke—can you believe it? After a week spent in a world where kindness often felt scarce, that joke was like a refreshing drop of rain in the desert. I showed up before they officially opened, and instead of brushing me off, they stored my luggage and filled my water bottles. When did the world become so greedy and self-centered that such a simple gesture brought tears to my eyes?

Then there was my black face standing out in a sea of curious gazes. I ventured out for food, feeling like the main act at a carnival as cars honked at me. It was a tad intimidating but oddly fulfilling. I could almost hear the stories they’d tell about the day they spotted the elusive black man traversing their streets—an exotic moment in their mundane lives.

Here’s a delightful tidbit about Ipoh: family-run businesses are the heartbeat of the town. I stumbled upon a cozy little restaurant run by the world’s most adorable elderly couple. Their herbal chicken? A symphony of flavors that lingered long after the meal was done.

My first stops, the Ipoh Railway Station and the Birch Memorial Clock Tower, stood proudly as reminders of the town’s colonial history. Their Moorish and Islamic architecture, with graceful arches and intricate designs, transported me to an era when train travel oozed elegance. I watched trains glide in and out, a poignant reminder that as time marches on, remnants of the past remain steadfast.

I then strolled into Concubine Lane, where Bahulu—these delightful Chinese cakes—stole my heart. I had to indulge in at least a dozen to feel I had done them justice. And oh, the Trick House—what an interesting way to spend some time and money. Someday, I hope God blesses me with the ability to not regret every dime spent. But the sweet lady who showed me around softened that temporary remorse.

Mirror Lake, though not quite the magic I had in mind, did lead me to meet some young souls from Kuala Lumpur. It’s funny how a lackluster lake suddenly becomes intriguing when you’re trading stories with new friends. And here’s a shoutout to a Grab driver who basically gave me a crash course on budget-friendly dining in Ipoh.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the streets began to sparkle with the glow of lanterns, and a vibrant market emerged, alive with culture, history, and culinary delights. Amidst the colonial-era facades of Ipoh Old Town, the market’s lively energy beckoned me into a world of sensory wonder. The streets adorned with colorful street art whispered narratives of the town’s past, inviting me to partake in its vibrant life.

The market’s spirited atmosphere mirrored the elegance of the Ipoh Railway Station, where graceful arches once welcomed travelers from distant lands. The culinary treasures of Tong Sui Kai found a fitting stage here, as the enticing aroma of traditional desserts mingled with the sweet scent of incense wafting from nearby temples. Gerbang Malam, much like Ipoh itself, weaves together stories of bygone eras and present-day vitality, offering a night market experience that is rich in history and flavor.

I strolled through its shadowy streets, my skin blending into the darkness. Even the curious dogs noticed me, but hey, it’s all part of the adventure, right? And guess what? My hostel had perhaps the most inconspicuous back entrance ever.

Ipoh is a town with its own rhythm—equal parts eerie, heartwarming, and delightfully offbeat. Who would have thought that a place so quiet could leave such a loud impression? As I nestled into my bunk, I couldn’t help but wonder what new stories this quaint town had yet to share. The night was still young, and so was my curiosity.