I eat, Ipoh

I didn’t stay long in Ipoh. But a day in town was emblematic of my philosophy in Asia—when in doubt, eat. If I saw a food place that had something interesting, irrelevant of the time of day and irrelevant of hunger levels and an overall desire to have that particular food at that particular time, I got it.

After breakfast at the hostel I began my day in Ipoh with a walk along the river. It was quiet and relaxed, but there was no food around. I got into the centre of town and meandered down Concubine Lane with its array of street vendors selling coconut shakes, cendol, pineapple cakes and the like. All good stuff, but mostly aimed at tourists and nothing that particularly jumped out at me.

At the end of the lane, on the other side of the road opposite, was a tofu shop. I found similar places in Chinatown in Kuala Lumpur as well as in the more Chinese areas of George Town. The shops sold fresh, unhomogenised soy milk, so fresh that it expired only a few hours after purchasing. Their main claim to fame was ‘tau fu fa,’ a scoop of fresh silken tofu topped with sugar syrup, served hot. I’d had this in Kuala Lumpur after a hot laksa, hoping it would be cold and refreshing. I learned the hard way that that wasn’t the case.

Still a bit sweaty from my morning escapade, in Ipoh I knew I needed to go for the cold option instead. It consisted of silken tofu, crushed ice, sugar syrup, red beans and a small amount of black rice. It was practically the same as the many tofu puddings I had guzzled down on hot days in Taiwan recently.

The tofu shop was near the tea museum; visiting the museum was why I had come to this area of town in the first place. The museum was run by a Malaysian tea company and, as I later found out, was a front for selling lots of tea. They only allowed a few people inside at a time so, after my tofu morning tea, I had to write my name down for a time slot and come back to the museum thirty minutes later.

This left me thirty minutes to explore the area a bit more. I made my way up and down the streets in the central area of Ipoh, passing by local temples and french-style cafes. I passed by a Chinese bakery and, naturally, felt the need to buy up half the store. Before even making my way back to the pavement I had absorbed a custard tart into my face. I arrived back at the tea museum just in time for my slot with the remnants of a kaya bun still hanging off of the edges of my lips.

I was the only person in my 12:45 time slot. Everyone else appeared to eat meals at mealtimes. I got a detailed introduction into the history of the tea company followed by an even more thorough explanation of why only one person was allowed to go up the stairs at a time in the old house that the museum was housed in. This was all delivered to me despite the fact that I was the only person in the museum.

The museum’s whole schtick was that they gave you some history of the company, you’d pass through some displays, then have a tea tasting and, given that the doors were locked and your only way out was by asking nicely, you’d feel obliged to buy some tea. But what if I didn’t want tea? I was told I was getting a free museum and a free museum is what I wanted. I was not going to fall for some touristy, overpriced tea that wouldn’t be allowed through Australian customs.

I enjoyed my personal tea tasting but was preoccupied with the thought that I would be spending a lot more than I intended for stuff I didn’t want. The fifth and sixth teas I tried were cold teas that were sold in cans. That seemed a bit better than buying tea bags. Maybe if I bought some of them I’d be allowed out. Would that be enough?

After trying all the teas I asked, with fearful anticipation, how much two cans of the sour plum medicinal tea would cost. I took in a deep breath, expecting my well-restrained budget to be thrown out the window. It was $1.60 for two. I’d be okay. It was cheap for me, but also not too expensive for Malaysia. In the shop across the street they were selling coconut shakes to domestic tourists for the equivalent of $4. And that was for one. And it didn’t even come with a museum. But was I being cheap? Had I bought enough? The tea tasting lady didn’t seem to think so. After I’d decided to make a purchase she refilled my cup multiple times, collectively giving me another can’s worth of tea. I had paid for enough stuff to be allowed out.

With my sour-bitter tea in hand, I decided I should have some lunch because that’s what a normal person would do. There was a nice, local food court I had seen near the Chinese bakery. Though I wasn’t hungry I knew the food would be best whilst it was still lunchtime. So I headed there and had a plate of noodles with a cup of iced lemon tea, forgetting I had already consumed about four cups of tea in the previous few hours. Shaking with caffeine and sugar, I quenched an inexistent hunger inside me.