Tea and Scones at 2,000ft

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Severe sunburn (the result of snorkeling, I blame the fish - they are too pretty, you spend all that time looking down and then the sun gets mad and takes it out on your back) caused me to retreat, like generations of colonial Englishmen before me to the cool, refreshing climate of Malaysia's hill stations. To the Cameron Highlands in the central north peninsular, 2,000 ft up and you're almost 9,000 miles to the west and back in Surrey. Here is where Tea lives, oh that was a pleasure let me tell you, almost a pilgrimage as I had yet to see a Tea plantation and it's probably the closest thing I have to a religion. Tea is also my favourite Latin plant name, Camellia Sinensis, beautiful isn't it? I was practically chauffeured the six hours from Kuala Besiut to Tanah Rata, the main town of the Cameron Highlands, being the only one on the mini bus. And as we ascended the cool mists rolled in and the vegetation began to change from Lowland rain forest to evergreen and shrubs more suited to the UK. Of course much of the reason the Cameron Highlands looks so much like home is that it's been shaped over a hundred or so years by Englishmen who planted their own botanical gardens of local and imported species and used the land to grow fruit, vegetables and plants that are more suited to the cooler wetter climate and are not found in the lower valleys (Strawberries, tea, roses, root vegetables). It's the biggest producer of tea in Malaysia and that delicate aroma seeps in through the crack in the window as we pass by.

I asked to be dropped outside Daniel's lodge and the place is pretty busy, people are sat on the outside veranda chatting, drinking tea (it's free- Joy!) and reading. The dorm is pretty basic - think of the orphanage dormitory in 'Annie' only with fake golf course green carpet and windows that don't close. It's freezing at night (my amazing Jungle bag came in very handy) but it's only 8RM (Ringgits) a night (1 pound 10p) and the people I meet are lovely. On my very first night there I am bitten by something (the local doctor later said allergic reaction but I'm not sure) and I wake up feeling strange, realising my right eye doesn't seem to be opening properly, I take a look in the mirror and nearly die of shock, my eyelid and surrounding area as well as the right side of my bottom lip have swollen up to Quasimodo proportions, it was hideous and as it was only 7am I had to wait two hours for the Doctor's office to open in the town, the worst two hours ever. Come 9am I was slinking through the shadows, sticking to the tree cover like a lurking menace, huge sunglasses on and half my face covered by my hair. Thankfully the cost of minor medical emergencies in Asia is low and it only cost me 26RM for the consultation and medication. My eyes do seem to have the worst luck, it's not bad enough that they don't work properly but they attract all sorts of biting insects (I was to be bitten on the eye once more at a later date, but nothing so extreme and I still had the ointment and anti-histamines the Malaysian doctor had given me which sorted it right out). I spent the next couple of days skulking around the dark TV room wearing sunglasses. At night I was paranoid about being bitten again but my Jungle bag has a brilliant mosquito net that zips over the hood of the bag and keeps out all little beasties (I bought it because of spiders and the terrible nights sleep I had on a mountain top last time I was in Malaysia when we camped out in the rain forest). A second barrier of defence came in the form of a British Airways eye mask. So I recovered and started to explore the highlands with a couple of lovely girls and guy from the dorm, the Time Tunnel, strawberry farms and strawberry based foods etc.. We went for tea and scones at the Smokehouse, a mock Tudor mansion straight out of Gloustershire, with an English garden, open fires, Georgian furniture and an attached golf course. Tea was taken on the terrace and the local strawberry jam was served up with authentic clotted cream (no mean feat as in Asia UHT milk is king and not a drop of fresh milk has been seen since we left Mongolia). Although it wasn't cheap at 30RM, we saved money by walking the two hours to the Smokehouse.

We also tried walking to the Boh Tea plantation, three hours into the walk it started to bucket rain, we took shelter in a Cactus nursery and awaited the bus, which dropped us at the bottom of the driveway (another 45 min walk) to the plantation at five minutes to closing. That wasn't very well timed and to make matters worse I realised I'd left my beloved jungle hat on the bus! I really do love that hat, I brought it from an army surplus store just before I left on the Malaysian field trip with Uni in 2004. This was when Asia was still a distant and captivating place full of unknown pleasures (it still is, but everything was slightly wilder then) where I figured Forest Casual was the preferable dress code and the right hat would not only give me a certain tropical elegance but also be quite practical at keeping spiders at bay. It's been through everything with me, and I'd left it on a bus. I was gutted, the others tied to cheer me up with fresh strawberries but I was in a pretty sad mood was we waited for the bus to take us back to Tanah Rata. I knew that as the buses did loops along the only road between Tanah Rata and the other major town of Ipoh my hat may still be on the bus, if someone hadn't picked it up or that bus finished for the day. It was just a matter of picking the right passing bus. The others wanted to get a taxi back; understandable as it was still drizzling, getting pretty cold and we were soaked through, but I held on in hope and I'm glad I did, because as I saw the familliar Mullet of the driver appear (you can't forget a hairsyle like that) I knew my hat, like the good pigeon that it, is had returned to me! When the bus pulled up it was still sat on the seat, soaking wet. No one had taken it, clearly no one appreciates the Forest Casual look they way I do. Well I think that's enough about my hat for now, I do love hats.

We all sat around the bonfire in the outside bar of the lodge that evening, chatting to people who'd just finished teaching English in Korea and drinking beer (Tiger Beer is the preferred tipple in Malaysia, but it's taxed quite highly because it's a Muslim state and therefore not cheap), as I head off to bed I walk through the TV room so say goodnight to people and who's there but two of the four Irish lads, James and Alan! Of all the Hill stations in all the world...

The next day, our now extended group take the bus (no walking today) to the Boh Tea plantation, it drops us at the entrance and it's a 45 minute to one hours walk along the twisty road to the tea factory. It's just as much about the journey as the destination as you meander through those glorious green, sweet smelling tea bushes, no PG Tips monkeys in sight. The smell of tea gets stronger as you reach the factory, perched on a hill overlooking the massive plantation, the smell of brewing tea is everywhere, all air should smell like this. After a brief and slightly uncomfortable tour of the factory by a rather racist Indian Man (he doesn't like Malaysians) who was impressed my knowledge of tannins and the chemistry of tea (I say impressed, he didn't care) we decided to retire to the outdoor terrace, overlooking the estate, to partake in a cup of liquid brown delight. The particular brew we selected was of the upland variety (lighter, more delicate flavours) compared to the lowland variety (a more robust, rich bouquet). I then read my tea leaves which told me Alan was going to instigate a tea leaf fight, but he was thwarted by cold tea leaves to the face before anyone else suffered any tannin related injuries. It started to rain heavily as we walked back through the plantation, it's impossible to walk in wet flip flops so I ended up walking barefoot in the rain with Rebecca as the boys ran on ahead to find shelter. A minute later Rebecca and I were picked up by a passing car, a couple on their way back from the factory, who gave us a lift to the bus shelter. We waved at the boys as we drove past. But they got lucky too, we were waiting for the bus as covered truck pulled up and out from between sacks of green veg jumped Al, James and G.

The Hill Station did exactly what it said on the tin, provided a cool respite from the heat of Asia, in fact it started to feel more like home each day, it rained a lot, it was so cold I had to wear two jumpers and it even had that green, earthy-smokey-rain on tarmac smell of home. But you can't stay in the clouds forever!

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Photos

Joy!
Camellia Sinensis, brilliant!

Colourful and Patriotic chairs
The Petronas Towers are big news

Charming Toothpaste
By Hawley and Hazel