The morning train to Ipoh has all conveniences we need, and lacks the freezing AC we don’t need. The delay is only one hour, after which the train rolls to the border for another hour idling, degorging its passengers that need to do their paperwork. In our case that consists of a simple stamp, a welcoming smile, and a routine glance at our pickles and medication bag.
Ipoh’s central railway station is quiet at night, and it is easy to find helpful people. In our case, a British man who was based here as a soldier five decades ago, explains us where we can find a more suitable neighbourhood to spend the night. We share a taxi and say goodbye at a 24-hour restaurant, where we watch a worldcup game, and countless repetitions thereof.
We will meet two big time travelers tomorrow, and I am looking forward to it.