Jalan-Jalan Kluang

 

Confession: Growing up in JB,  Kluang was just a name I’d heard — one of those small Johor towns that people said had good food and a relaxed vibe. (And lots of keluang [bats] flying everywhere!) I never made it there back then, but now, every time I drive back to JB, it’s almost an automatic stop.

And the first order of business usually? The original Kluang Station, of course. Started as a humble canteen in the railway station in 1938, it has moved with the times and evolved into the well-known “Kluang RailCoffee”, now boasting four modern outlets around town. But the original? That’s where the magic is. It’s kept its rustic charm so well that stepping inside feels like travelling back in time. 

Unlike the newer outlets with their expanded menus, the original outlet keeps things simple: a glorious range of breads — roti bun bakar, roti bun gandum, roti keping bakar — plus steamed buns, Malaysian classics, and a long list of beverages. 

The laksa warms the soul, the bun bakar is crispy outside and soft inside, and the coffee? Strong enough to fuel your road trip for hours. If you’re with friends and family, don’t bother choosing — just order everything and share.

From there, wander over to Laman Kreatif Kluang, a lane splashed with colourful murals that’s perfect for your next OOTD shot. It’s the kind of place where you can spend half an hour taking “just one more” photo. 

But Kluang isn’t just about food and photo ops — it’s got stories in its streets. Founded in 1915 as a railway town, its name comes from keluang, the fruit bats that once filled the skies here. The railway turned it into a bustling hub for rubber and agriculture, and by the 1930s, coffee culture was firmly rooted in its kopitiams. Even wartime didn’t erase its charm; Kluang picked itself up and grew, blending old-world warmth with small-town buzz.

Today, it’s that mix — heritage, flavour, and laid-back charm — that makes Kluang the perfect stopover for anyone with good taste, whether in food, history, or just living well.

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Mo Salah And The 10,000-Hour Rule

 

Why is it that some people still don’t give Liverpool living legend Mo Salah the respect he deserves? 

Maybe it’s because he makes football look too easy.

Last season alone, he recorded over 50 goal involvements – an extraordinary feat – yet there are still corners of the football world that scoff. Why? Because Salah makes it look effortless. But what looks effortless on the pitch is really the product of years of extraordinary effort, sacrifice, and relentless repetition.

Malcolm Gladwell’s famous 10,000-hour rule suggests that true mastery of a skill takes that much dedicated practice. Salah has gone far beyond that. His dazzling runs, his clinical finishing, his ability to torment defenders – they didn’t happen overnight. They were sharpened through countless hours on training grounds, through discipline, and through the mindset of an elite professional who refuses to be satisfied.

People take his numbers for granted now, as though a goal or assist every other game is "normal." It isn’t. Not by a long shot. Salah is 4th on the all-time Premier League goalscoring list, sitting among legends of the game. His record-breaking feats could fill a book, and yet he remains humble, grounded, and committed to his family and his craft.

And just last night, he made history yet again – winning the PFA Players’ Player of the Year award for the third time. Nobody had ever done that before. Not Henry, not Ronaldo, not even De Bruyne. Salah did it.

Mo Salah is not just a Liverpool icon, not just an Egyptian King – he is a footballing great of this era. The numbers don’t lie. The consistency doesn’t lie. The respect of his peers doesn’t lie.

Mabruk, Mohamed Salah! 

* Pics by PFA

Turning Doubters Into Believers: What Klopp Really Did for Liverpool

Some time ago, I read two books back to back — An Epic Swindle (The Near Death of Liverpool FC) by Brian Reade, and Believe Us by Melissa Reddy. One chronicles a club on the brink of financial and moral collapse, the other celebrates its astonishing rebirth under one man. Reading them in succession was like watching a gripping two-part documentary: the fall… and then the rise.

And what a rise it was.

By the time I closed the second book, my respect for Jürgen Klopp had evolved into full‑blown awe. It became crystal clear that he wasn't just a successful manager — he was a miracle worker. To take a club still reeling from years of boardroom chaos, fan frustration, and false dawns… and turn it into a European and Premier League‑winning machine? That’s not just football. That’s alchemy.

Honestly, the real miracle might be that it only took him a few years to win the Champions League, and then — finally — the Premier League title that had eluded Liverpool for three painful decades.

The Cowboys and the Chaos

To truly appreciate what Klopp inherited — and rebuilt — we must revisit the darkest chapter of modern Liverpool: the Hicks and Gillett years. This era brought broken promises, legal battles, crippling debt, and an atmosphere so toxic it choked the last breath out of hope.

Though Liverpool still had stars—Gerrard, Torres, Alonso, Mascherano—belief was gone. Matches unfolded in a haze of exhaustion; the supporters, weary and fractured. The club’s identity, once a source of immense pride, had been eroded.

A Steady Hand: FSG and Klopp’s Arrival

In 2010, Fenway Sports Group took over and brought stability. Five years later, in October 2015, Jürgen Klopp arrived with a simple but seismic message:

“We have to turn doubters into believers.”

No flamboyant pledges. No heroics. Just a mission.

He reintroduced belief, unity, passion and identity. Players ran harder, staff stood taller, and Anfield roared again. Slowly, something beautiful took shape.

From Belief to Glory: The Road to Triumph

Liverpool reached the 2018 Champions League final, only to fall heartbreakingly short. Klopp’s response? Regroup. Return stronger.

2019 in Madrid: Salah and Origi scored as Liverpool claimed their 6th European crown. A healing moment for fans everywhere.

A personal highlight? Being there, in Liverpool, for the trophy parade. With my family amidst a sea of red, I watched the players pass by, glory in their hands. It was joy and disbelief, combined.

Then in 2020, they finally won the Premier League—a title 30 years in waiting. I cried. Real tears. Release of decades of longing. The wait was over.

Witnessing the Klopp Era Firsthand

As detailed in my getaran.my column Kisah Anak Gen‑X: Selamat Tinggal, Jurgen Klopp! — I grew up in Liverpool’s golden age. The drought felt endless, déjà vu after near misses cut deeper each time. But Klopp changed the script.

In 2017, I visited Anfield, sat on Klopp’s seat during the Stadium Tour, and imagined the roar of 60,000 fans on a European night.

 

By June 2019, I stood among 750,000 Scousers, celebrating our heroes returning from Madrid. Hours-long waits turned timeless memories. Football felt transcendent again.

I wrote then:

“Licik, pantas, agresif—Liverpool milik Klopp bermain setiap nota ‘heavy metal football’ dengan semangat buas.”

His trademark Klopp hugs weren’t just gestures — they were how he wove together a fractured club .

A Legacy Beyond Trophies

Klopp’s departure in 2024 marked the end of an era — he did it on his terms, walking away with respect, gratitude and seven major trophies. His impact, by the numbers — win rate, memorable matches, and youth development — is one for the record books.

But more than stats, his legacy lives in what he restored: belief, pride, emotion, unity. He reminded Kopites — young and old — what they were. What they always could be.

Only now, with books read and experiences reflected on, do I fully realise: Klopp didn’t just win football matches. He resurrected a club’s soul. And as he so beautifully promised — he turned doubters into believers.

Video Game Fans, You Gotta See This! Aka: What I Got For My 10th Birthday

It was my 10th birthday, and among the gifts on that table was something truly out of this world…

Any guesses? No?

That year, I received what was arguably the coolest, most futuristic thing I had ever laid my hands on: the Space Chaser electromechanical tabletop game, made by Toy Town.

To anyone born after 1995, it probably looks like a clunky plastic relic from the Stone Age of gaming. But to me, back then? It was nothing short of a NASA-grade space simulator.

Pic: YouTube

The game had a bright, colourful galactic battlefield printed right on its surface, complete with space fighters, laser blasts, and planet Earth looking dangerously vulnerable in the background. There was a big red dial in the middle, which I was convinced was some kind of highly classified navigation system. You twisted it to move your crosshairs, lined it up with the blinking enemy, and then BOOM! — if you timed it right, you'd hear that glorious “peeeeeet” sound that meant you just saved humanity again.

The graphics? Non-existent by today’s standards — it was just blinking lights pretending to be spaceships. But back then, with a bit of imagination, it felt like you were dogfighting in deep space, dodging alien lasers, and outsmarting evil empires. George Lucas would've been proud.

I played it until the batteries ran out (which, sadly, was often), and I learned that D-size batteries cost a fortune and always mysteriously disappeared into the back of the family radio. 

Eventually, as all childhood toys do, it disappeared into the abyss — maybe forgotten at the bottom of a gerobok, or maybe it just flew off on its final mission to save another galaxy. But the memories stuck.

These days, when I see kids with tablets and VR headsets, I smile and think, “You’ve never known the pure joy of chasing blinking dots across a plastic galaxy with a red dial and your imagination.”

And that, my peeps, was the day I became a space hero. At least in my head.

And here's a demo of how it's played!

Video: ArcadeUSA YT

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Ah, Holiday Plaza

 

Holiday Plaza in JB was the scene of many firsts for me — all back in the glorious 80s.

It was where I had my very first taste of KFC — and yes, a friend had to teach me the “proper” way to eat it. Back then, KFC was quite the dining experience — they served the chicken on proper plates, with metal forks and spoons! None of this paper box and plastic cutlery business. It felt posh, ok?

Apart from KFC, McDonald’s and Pizza Hut were also popular makan spots at Holiday Plaza. And if I’m not mistaken, White Castle even had a brief stint there.

And who could forget the smell of Chinese herbal eggs wafting through the air? It was distinctive, pungent… and totally unforgettable. You either loved it or held your breath walking past.

It was also where I bowled for the first time — at Holiday Bowl (see pic above). My schoolmates and I became regulars, showing up almost every weekend. Some of the guys came decked out like Miami Vice characters — white blazers, pastel shirts, the whole vibe (and sockless, of course).

We’d spend hours at the video arcade too, even though we were technically underage!

Then there was Kimisawa — the department store that had everything under one roof. I bought some of my Raya outfits there over the years. But the bulk of my wardrobe? That came from 2nd Chance. Their “diskang” fashion was the look back then. That said, a few of my more stylish (and loaded) friends swore by getting their (carrot cut) pants tailor-made at Ken Follet, which gave them that extra “custom fitted” swagger.

One semester break during uni, I even worked at Sate Ria — making drinks, washing dishes, smelling like grilled meat by the end of every shift. Not glamorous, but unforgettable.

Our ritual usually started at KOMTAR. From there, we’d hop on the Alec or T. Hakkim bus to Holiday Plaza. That weekly trip felt like an adventure, every single time.

These days, while the building still stands, Holiday Plaza is more like a ghost mall. I haven’t been back in ages, but I’ve heard it’s a shadow of its former self.

Still, for us 80s kids, Holiday Plaza will always be the spot — where friendships were forged, fashion experiments happened, and weekends were never boring.

Pics: FB

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