Through the Cameron Highlands
All things considered and accounted for, my week in Malaysia was a worthwhie and successful experience. I was so impressed with the country in general that, if there is a next time, I would skip Thailand and head straight for Malaysia. I arrived from Bangkok on a torential rainy Saturday evening and booked a five star hotel to lick the travel wounds aquired in Thailand. This was a posh spot, in the heart of Kuala Lumpar, with hot water, a television, and room service. I can see a green tint of jealously quickly rise up your collective faces as you read this. “Hot water!” the echo of your dismay rings across the Pacific.
On Sunday I walked to the sights of the city which, in all honesty is only one, the Petronus Twin Towers, the tallest buildings in the world. The observation deck had just recently reopened after having been shut down for obvious reasons. These structures literally make up the skyline of KL. They are visible from all points. The edifice is a mix between western highrise and eastern architecture, with a large ball on top of each building, like the end of a stocking cap. While at the observation deck I used a great line to meet a beautiful German woman. “Do you think it goes any higher?” I asked. She looked at me puzzled, “I dont think so.” We spent the remainder of the day checking out a few other interesting sights of the city, including the tallest flagpole in the world, and the train station which was built during British occupation, but looks like any mosque currently being bombarded in Afghanistan or other central Asian cities.
The next moring I awoke to CNN and the news that Bush had finally given the go ahead for retailitory attacks and got a shiver in my stomach, a mix of pride, sadness, and fear. I was due to leave the city that day for a more remote location, my own Camp David, if you will. I jumped a bus to the Cameron Highlands at 2pm and arrived after a four hour journey, half of which wound upward and deep into the Malaysian rainforest.
The Cameron Highlands are an attraction for several reasons. They are home to the largest tea plantaions in the country, as well as the only strawberry farms, and a backpacker’s haven based on cheap accomodations and jungle trails. Most of the buildings in this region were constructed by the British as retreats for military commanders, thus it is a strange sight to view Tudor style cottages and resorts set against the backdrop of the dense, hanging jungles.
My hostel was one of the better ones I’ve stayed in. It sat flush against the forest and was a beacon for mellow travellers from all points. The first night I met a British chap and we agreed to tackle one of the trails the following day. In many of the guidebooks, the Cameron Highlands are reported to have a vast array of wildlife, from gibbons to tigers, elephants and snakes. The owner of the hostel informed me that there were not many gibbons left however because the locals were eating them.
The next day was perfectly picturesque as we started up the mountain at about 10am. The elevation of the town of Tanah Rata, the central city in the Highlands, is about 4,000 feet, and the peak we set out for loomed at approximately 6,500.
It took most of the morning to complete the ascent through the thick jungle vines, and a bit longer to walk down and out because we took an alternate path that wasn’t on the map. A classic move of “lets see what’s this way” with total disregard for trails or signposts. But we returned unscathed, yet certainly weary, without having seen any wildlife besides one snake that stuck his head out and slithered backwards.
The entire trek was about ten miles, I would guess. But as the two of us sat down for Tiger beers as a reward the story of our adventure quickly became fabricated. Two English girls sat with us and by the end of our afternoon drinking session the story they heard varied greatly from reality. The trek turned into a fifty mile hike, slogging trough deep and muddy undergrowth. We had to fend off a family of tigers and we were only able to do so by appeasing them with the gibbons that we had captured as an offering. That was certainly a precarious moment, but my British friend (Jay) and I “stood shoulder to shoulder” in the face of animal terrorism. The rest of the evening was spent swapping half truths with whoever was considerate enough to listen.
Unfortunately, my Malaysian adventure took a turn for the worse from that point on. The next morning I awoke with an aching body, the chills, and a stomach that became intimately aquainted with bathrooms from one end of Tanah Rata to the opposite. This “flu” continued until my departure from Malaysia yesterday, and I’m still at a loss the explain it. It could have been triggered by the sharp sun on the hike up, the greasy (though tasty) Malay food, or the mass quantity of Tiger beer my buddy and I consumed.
I feel better today though, and currently find myself in Hong Kong after a three and half hour flight from KL. The flight was painless and actually departed five minutes ahead of schedule. Today I ate McDonald’s for the first time on my trip in hopes that it would right my ailing belly. So far, so good. Ill keep you updated. Though I have enjoyed the food at all my stops, Korea, Thailand, Malaysia, and now China, there’s something about a hamburger, french fries, and a Coca-cola that just feels right. Heres to the hope that the McDonald’s in Kabul is still standing.
I leave for mainland china on Tuesday and should be in Beijing by the end of the month.
