WHEN a group of men hit their forties, the conversation inevitably turns to getting a new shiny sports car, a hair graft, or, God forbid, a new bicycle with tight, bright yellow lycra to match.
For us, a group of “boys” – small-town transplants in the city – our wishes were simpler: we made a pact to travel together every year. We had just one rule: no wives.
First, some background on the seven of us. We began as five boys – Melvyn Tan, Patrick Er, Heng Boon Yew, Edwin Chang and I – forming our friendships in standard one at St. Andrew’s Primary School in Muar, Johor.
We played “police and thief,” fancied ourselves the "Famous Five” from Enid Blyton’s books, and cycled around our neighbourhoods after school.
Saw Chan Chern and Andrew Shee joined our group a few years later after transferring from another school.We went our separate ways for further education, and after graduation, everyone left Muar for good to pursue their careers – except me.
Mel stayed in Singapore after his Asean scholarship; Edwin joined a consulting firm in the US; Boon, Pat and Saw took roles with multinationals in KL, while I remained to run my family business in Muar.
Pat was the first to marry, and we all served as his best men. The pattern continued until Boon, the last. Pat was also the first to become a father, and my wife and I became his daughter’s godparents. Soon, each of us became godfathers to one another’s children.
Amazingly, our wives got along famously, making birthdays and festive gatherings much easier. They even started their own WhatsApp group, no doubt to share complaints about their husbands.
As we hit the dreaded 40 mark in 2015 and our pot bellies took shape, Mel suggested we call ourselves the “Belugas,” after the whales’ thick layer of blubber.
Despite the extra weight, thinning hair, and occasional joint pains, I still see the “boys” in us. Our eyes still sparkle with boyish mischief, even if some now contend with thick bifocals. That same year, we made a pact to travel together every year.
We kicked off our annual trip with Bali in 2015 – padi fields in Ubud, whitewater rafting, ATV rides and plenty of eating.
Phuket followed the next year, where, at Saw’s insistence, we experienced the famous “four hands massage” for the first time in a rather claustrophobic setting – imagine six men and 12 masseuses crammed into a tiny room!
In 2017, we went to Ipoh, staying above Kong Heng Coffeeshop – spooked at night by strange, creaky noises and roused at dawn by hawkers setting up stalls below.
The trip added a few good inches to our bellies as we feasted on local favourites, from chicken rice and curry mee to tau foo fah and Ipoh coffee with egg tarts. That was the year we truly earned the name “The Belugas.”
In 2018, we went further afield to Taipei, visiting landmarks like Chiang Kai Shek Memorial Hall, the National Palace Museum and Taipei 101 by day, and scouring night markets for the best street food by evening.
In 2019, we chose Nha Trang, Vietnam, and made the kind of rash decision men in their forties still make – touring the city and its outskirts on motorcycles, ignoring Vietnam’s infamous traffic and impatient drivers. We had several harrowing experiences and swore never to do it again.
Our trips paused during the Covid years of 2020 and 2021, and we made up for it with our usual birthday and holiday gatherings.
In 2022, we returned to Phuket so Saw could once again enjoy his “world’s best” four-hands massage – though this time we opted for a much bigger room.
The following year was a foodie trip to Penang. We gorged ourselves silly, from famous hawker fare to Michelin-starred dining. The gang indulged my insatiable appetite for char kuey teow as I dragged them to five different stalls in two days. 2023 was the year we lived up to the “Belugas” name.
In 2024, we went north to Bangkok, pampering ourselves with affordable Thai massages and, of course, more bingeing in what we agreed was the best food destination of our trips so far.
2025 was special – Edwin finally joined us in Tokyo for the first time after a decade, flying in from Los Angeles. We broke our only rule and brought the wives along after years of emotional blackmail for leaving them out, though Mel withdrew at the last minute for work – a decision we are still debating to this day whether to forgive.
It became our longest and biggest trip yet – seven days, more than 10 people – and a fitting way to mark our 50s. Watching us laugh, eat, and drink together, I felt grateful for the friendship that has endured for 43 years. We marked the occasion by buying matching Onitsuka Tiger shoes, customised with “JP25” gold stitching for Japan 2025.
By 2035, when we turn 60, will we still be able to scale the mountains together, or content to lie by the beach, cocktails in hand, little umbrellas bobbing in the breeze? Wherever the Belugas wander next, I hope these seven “boys” from Muar will continue their journey together for many more years to come.
