Tight Arse Travel: Johor Bahru

There seem to be very few reasons to view JB as a destination in itself. Maybe you are a border-hopping Singaporean on a cheap-electronics shopping spree in one of the vast mega-malls. Maybe you are transiting through JB Sentral on your way to the white sand beaches of the string-o-pearls tropical islands of the east coast. Alternatively like me, taking a journey down memory lane to visit a half-remembered childhood home, a home often spoken of within the family and conjured up through old faded black-and-white photographs, anecdotes, and half memories. Either way, the list of reasons for visiting JB is not long.

Not that there is anything wrong with JB, it just does not have the appeal of other destinations. Malaysia's second largest city is a business city. It is a getting-things-done-without-any-fuss-and-bother city. It is a no glitz or glamour, no razzamatazz, a no fanfare city. That said, if you do find yourself in JB on one of the afore-mentioned missions or maybe another beyond my imagination, stay at least one night for the food!

After completing our trip down memory lane, Tight Arse Travel checked into the Citrus Hotel. Chosen for no other reason than its location close to JB Sentral for a quick getaway in the morning and proximity to down town. After checking in, we headed out in search of dinner. Not knowing any better, we headed south along Jalan Meldrum, as it seemed reasonably vibrant and lively. Almost immediately we spied a small lane closed to traffic, furnished with the ubiquitous street food sign - red plastic chairs - a sure indication of good things to come. Scurrying in, we were spoilt for choice; attacked from all sides by mouth-watering smells, assaulted by the riot of colour, and cajoled by the stall vendors to try their wares. What to choose?

After a long, hot day on the road, the first thing the Tight Arse Travel rats do is seek out a thirst-quenching, palate-cleansing cold beverage, usually of the fermented barley variety. Unfortunately, tea-total Malays ran all of the stalls and though the food was tempting, and their siren calls seductive, the lure of the refreshing amber nectar was like wax in our ears ... we sailed on.

After crossing a small street, semi-delusional with our mixed luck, we realised that the faces had changed and there were glasses of ambrosia on the tables. That street was an invisible boundary between the pious Malays and the ever-pragmatic Chinese stallholders - our quest was near its end. After confirming that the Egyptian elixir was indeed available to wash the road dust from our parched throats, the second horn of our dilemma rose, what to eat. Each stallholder was a specialist and laid out their wares with flair and artistry. All fresh and recently prepared, we struggled to choose, then finally in a 'When Harry met Sally' moment, we spied a plate on a nearby table and said, "We’ll have what they're having!" 'What they're having' was a plate of calamari in a fiery red chilli sauce accompanied by okra.

We chose our own cephalopods from the ice-laden display, and the lady stallholder quickly and expertly cleaned and chopped before resting them on a banana leaf on her hot plate under a steamer lid. After a few minutes, she stirred in the fiery sauce and okra. A quick stir later and we were tucking into our first course for the night washed down with a delightfully Dutch Heineken.

Second course was the ubiquitous sate - goat this time - accompanied by sweet red onion, cucumber and a Tiger. Third course was barbequed chicken wings with another Heineken.

This may seem like over-indulgence to the uninitiated, but there are factors not mentioned to be taken into consideration. All dishes were shared by two tight arses, and the meal was taken over several hours as we wandered the alley taking in the sights and smells, and avoiding the rats, cats and cockroaches that would be on clean up duty later in the night. This is a superb way to eat in this climate as a full plate can sit heavily and you get to experience a wider array from the cornucopia on offer.