The energy of OGA 2024 still lingered as I left the grand halls of the Kuala Lumpur Convention Centre, where I had spent hours in engaging conversations with customers and partners. It was a few hours of intense great discussions, alliances forged, and visions shared—the pinnacle of the oil and gas industry’s elite.
When it was all done, I climbed into my (wife’s) sleek new BMW 2 Series and hit the road, the North-South Expressway stretching before me like a promise. But fate had other plans. The drive to Ipoh was anything but smooth. Accidents littered the highway, and the journey dragged on, the hours passing in slow, frustrated intervals. But the car purred on, and so did I.
Arriving in Ipoh at last, I checked into a modest hotel, the kind that’s comfortable without trying too hard. I was weary, but my hunger was greater than my exhaustion. I set out to find a meal worthy of the day, trusting Google to guide me. It led me to the Kinta River Walk, a place where the water shimmered under the evening lights, and there, I met a local man—kind, humble, and weathered by the years—manning the restrooms. I asked him for a recommendation.
“Miker Food,” he said with certainty, as if it were the only answer that ever existed.
I found the place easily enough, tucked away with its unpretentious charm, and the meal did not disappoint. The flavors were rich, the atmosphere warm, and for a moment, the long day faded into the background. But as I prepared to leave, something tugged at my thoughts—an image of the man by the restrooms, his quiet help given without expectation.
On a whim, or perhaps something deeper, I ordered a takeaway meal and drink for him. Returning, I found he was gone, but his daughter was there, her eyes bright with surprise and gratitude as I handed over the food. She smiled, her voice soft with reverence as she wished me well, offering a prayer for my journey.
As I walked away, her words lingered in the air like a benediction, a quiet blessing for a stranger who had paused, if only for a moment, to return kindness with kindness.
Friday began in the stillness of dawn, the world hushed and waiting. I woke at 4 a.m., feeling refreshed as if the quiet night had woven peace into my sleep. The serenity of the early hour called to me, and I answered—rising to perform the tahajjud prayer, my heart steady and calm, followed by the prayer of taubat, seeking forgiveness in the solitude of the night.
When the prayers were done, I turned to Google once more, searching for the nearest mosque. Soon enough, I found one, and set out into the predawn darkness. The streets were empty, save for the occasional soft hum of life beginning to stir. Upon entering the mosque, I performed the tahiyatul masjid, the prayer for the blessing of entering the sacred space, and followed it with the non-obligatory Subuh prayer before joining the congregation for the Subuh itself.
The imam’s voice was clear and resonant as he recited from As-Sajadah, his reading of the verse filled with a depth that stirred something within me. There’s a power in hearing scripture at the break of day—a sense that the words, ancient and eternal, are breathing life into the present.
With the prayers completed, the day unfolded. Once again, I let Google be my guide, this time searching for the best breakfast in Ipoh. Suhaimi Cafe was the name that stood out, and it wasn’t long before I found myself seated there, a plate of nasi lemak before me, fragrant with coconut rice and spicy sambal. Iced coffee sat beside it, the perfect companion to the morning meal.
The first bite of nasi lemak was like a promise fulfilled, each flavor awakening my senses. The richness of the rice, the heat of the sambal, the crunch of peanuts and anchovies—it was a symphony on the palate. And the iced coffee? A jolt of smooth, cold energy, as refreshing as the first light of day.
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