All posts labelled as ‘The Lost Blogs” consists of draft original content from my travels over the past ten years or so, which for one reason or another (read: I never finished it), never made it to final publication. They are rough, clunky and unfinished, but the words were mine and they were (more or less) fresh from the experience. It’s the only way I think of to actually honour those memories, and bring them to the light of day.  Of course if I really wanted to go them justice I should have finished them to begin with – let them be a constant reminder of my laziness, leading sadly to a glut of lost memories and a missed nostalgic memory. I’m also really annoyed at seeing them light up my ‘draft posts’ column every time I login. 

When trawling the interwebz looking for Things to Do in Ipoh, I always feel slightly weary when 7 of the top 10 attractions are temples. Such is the case for Ipoh – and yes – whilst I’m sure your temples are quite lovely, I subscribe to the School of Diminishing Returns,whereas having seen several dozen before, the intrinsic value of Templedom is fast lost upon me. I resolved to stick to the tried and tested ‘wander and flop about’ strategy that worked so well for me in Penang.
From the airport, the Uber came up to the grand cost of 5 Ringit. That’s about 1.09 GBP. I lose that much change down the back of sofa, regularly.  Uber appears to have a new(?) feature where you can scroll through the delightful feedback your driver has been given by previous passengers. I was pleased to learn that my driver was “such a nice human being” and that his music collection “had me singing throughout the journey”.

Whilst my driver did not earnestly ask me for a duet of ‘Don’t Stop Believin'” on the journey (part disappointed, part relieved I must say) I can attest to him being a perfectly adequate human being, which is all I ask for in an Uber driver to be honest, I’m not the demanding sort.

After a quick flop at the hotel, I ventured out into the great unknown for curiosity, and food. During this jaunt it began to dawn on me that coming to Malaysia during their National Day weekend probably wasn’t the smartest idea. Whilst walking towards the Old Town district on Sultan Iksander, almost all of the shops and stores had their iron curtains drawn down, shut for the day.  This was around 6.15pm, so I held out some hope that Malaysia being – um – Malaysia, this was merely them deciding that ‘eh, we’ve decided that we’re done for the day’ and not for the weekend.

Partly based on the lack of sentient beings around, it helped give me the impression that Ipoh was actually a rather spacious town, with wide, well developed roads and ample sidewalks,  without any all-too-familiar  gigantic random pot holes. Approaching the Old Town, there was a particular alley lane etched on both sides with street murals – pleasant as an idea , although most of them were a bit too meh to bother photographing. I mean, clearly they were not painted by cavemen, but street art is such a “thing” nowadays, not least in quaint little Malaysian cities, that even I’ve unconsciously acquired standards.

This one of Bruce Lee was alright, though the juxtaposition of the two little figures in the foreground was a little odd, especially because I have a pair of salt and pepper shakers that look just like.

Also, the more I stare at Bruce, the more he represents that grotesque Cristiano Ronaldo statue:

Ok maybe the resemblance is tenuous at best, but any excuse to get you to look at that cold metallic dead stare, hah.

Reaching the proper Old Town, and really hoping that the art would get better, I did a quick stroll through the “Concubine Lanes”  . They run parallel to each other, and it is said that some dirt rich merchant with an even dirtier love life gifted a ‘lane’ to each of his three concubines.  Back in the day, these dingey little backstreets were a hot pot of booze, opium, and mistresses lounging around, having been put up by their well-to-do lovers.   Red lanterns and pink umbrellas (yeh, dunno) hang strewn across the narrow alleys, and there are a few semi-decent murals painted.

Dinner was sought and found at Plan B restaurant – a funky, warehouse type cafe with floor to ceiling window panes edged with black frames, exposed  brick walls and spotlight lighting. And hey it’s no4 on tripadvisor.  No doubt, judging by the decor and blast of air con as I walked through the entrance alone, this would be construed as an outrageously expensive meal by Ipohan standards, even if the bill did come out at a little over 6 GBP.

Asahi beer  (“we have a buy one get one free promotion!” *looks reluctant* “oh..uh..really? Ok..”) and Malay fusion style spagliatelle (whatever that is) with shiitake mushrooms.

A decent meal, although a little too salty especially with all the sardines thrown in. So that I can eternalise – if that’s a word – one particularly memory here, I just want to note that the high point was probably sitting back with my beer, as my food was arriving, and Edwin McCain’s “I’ll Be” coming on the stereo. Oh Ed, your dulcet tones never cease to bring back the nostalgia.

Stop for a moment here. Let it be known that I have first world problems,  I mean, I’m writing this on my iPad, via a wireless keyboard, in a boutique hotel’s rooftop bar with a glass of wine, in Malaysia. It’s hard to argue that I’m anything but kind of OK.  In fact, I am only beginning to realise that when I dig past many of my issues and gripes, I find they are due to a set of values and principles, hidden in the dusty crevices of my mind. And beyond those values and principles – everyone’s values and principles – are an even more hidden, unconscious set of ethics. These set of ethics are so rarely brought out into the light, they’re practically albino bear cubs being dragged out of their caves, yelping at the unfamiliarity of it all. So yeah, it’s an uncomfortable place to start prodding at, because as a wise man who wrote a very orange book once told me,if it feels uncomfortable it’s probably because it’s true (thank you Mr Manson).

ANYWAY – I don’t mean for this to start resembling Eat Pray Love. (Though if it were my movie I’d call it Eat Sleep Love).  I guess a light version of the above paragraph came to me at the Hot Springs of the Lost World of Tambun.  The place is an amusement and water park by day (with some random tigers thrown in. Though, admittedly not with the children, in the pool), and a Hot Springs and Spa site by night.  Well firstly, I had solved the riddle of “where are all the people in Ipoh on National Day weekend”. Secondly,  as I tentatively stepped into one of the sulphur-loaded pools, alongside half the population of the city,  I thought – meh. .  And that’s when the FWP syndrome kicked in. Splashing about in a pool is a wonderfully fun thing for a kid and their family and a great thing to do on a public holiday weekend.  But I have what is effectively a private rooftop pool at home, steps from my front door. A floor down, I have another pool, a jacuzzi, a steam room and a gym. If all of that fails – I have a rather cute cat doing barrel rolls on my floor. Ask Katie of five years ago about this situation and she would not believe you.  It’s an exceptionally privileged position to be in. Let Katie of years to come try to remember this.  My diet of the very orange book and daily meditation appears to be slowly gaining returns.

So, Tambun – a neat idea, and a fun day out for the local families even if the Locker rental almost cost as much as the entry ticket.  But with the crazy crowds, it was less a relaxing hot springs spa and more of a pool-party-with-tween sort of atmosphere. Odd to say it but I actually felt more relaxed when I was butt nekkid at the onsen in Tokyo.

So with respect to street art, the main guy who works his magic in Ipoh, is the same one who does it in Penang, a chap named Ernest Zacherevic. Local artists in Malaysia ? mmm not so much. The classic walking tour in Ipoh is one which meanders around the town to find his murals. So meander I did.

* End of Lost Blog post *