Along the Straits
The ride north from Pontian Kecil unfolded into one of those rare,
extraordinary days when the road delivers more than scenery. Penny
and Keng—two Malaysians we had first met in Iran nearly two years
earlier—drove south in search of us, their generosity as boundless as
their curiosity. When they found us, they swept us into lunch,
laughter flowing as easily as the conversation, the miles momentarily
forgotten.
By evening, Batu Pahat welcomed us not with a guesthouse but with
the comfort of family. Penny’s sister’s apartment stood vacant, yet
fully furnished, a sanctuary of modern amenities. After weeks of
modest rooms and cold showers, the soft bed and hot water felt
decadent, as though I had been crowned queen of Malaysia.
That night, Penny’s family gathered us around a “steamboat” dinner.
A pot of fragrant broth simmered at the centre of the table, and each
of us cooked our own food within it—vegetables, meats, noodles—
transforming the meal into an act of shared creation. It was fondue
reimagined, not with cheese or oil but with soup, rich and nourishing.
The evening shimmered with warmth, not only from the steam rising
from the pot but from the kindness of friends who had become family
along the way.