Bullshitting

Fat Man doesn't talk much. Next to him is James, who kept telling me I should go to China. I said, "Ipoh is like China," which had them laughing uncontrollably. I'm not sure why. A hundred percent of the coffeeshops here are Chinese, and Chinese Malaysians seem to have a stranglehold on the retail sector. I do not think Ipoh is representative of Malaysia, however.

I have adopted the custom of my fellow "uncles" (older men) of sitting in the shade and doing nothing. It is a pleasant way of slowing down the clock and absorbing the rhythms of small-town Malaysia. The fact that you are not engaged in any productive pursuits feels like cheating. As the Northeast Monsoon rolled through yesterday, I was invited by a group of my peers to park myself on an upturned tree stump under the awning of a coconut shop while listening to tales of how miserable their wives made them. It was pretty funny. The sidewalk is a safe space for them.

When the skies cleared 40 minutes later, I felt like I knew each man's backstory. Then, handshakes and I was on my way again, without any clear destination in mind. Gonna miss Ipoh.

While waiting out the storm, Alan lopped off the top of a young, plump coconut and handed me a thick straw. Real good! There was at least a pint of zesty juice in there, along with a lot of stringy pulp pulled up through the straw. He was making many grand claims about his coconuts ― how they killed viruses and could turn back the clock. I want to believe.

Alan and his sidewalk coconut business. He said he made his bones selling computer hardware. Nowadays he is a coconut missionary.

The monsoon storms here are just like the ones back home ― fast and intense. Temperatures drop from the 90s to the upper 70s, and the city exhales with relief.