Do something scary today

A waterfall at the flower farm, taken at my signature jaunty angle - it's art, man, it's art....

This post is dedicated to the one, the only, the gorgeous and the brave Shonagh, my fellow pioneer and all round beautiful superstar - missing you more than words and love you loads hon - keep the champagne on ice!! Hope Hamie is feeling better xxxx

We arrived safe and sound in the Cameron Highlands in a little minibus that we shared with some of the unfriendliest Germans on the planet.

The trip from Penang to Cameron only takes a few hours, and we left at 6am (I know, feel my pain) to arrive at about 10am. We had set our heart on staying at Daniel's Lodge, which had been recommended to us by quite a lot of different people, and secured ourselves a room there, to our delight.

Daniel's Lodge is a sprawling, very laid back hostel, set back slightly from Tanah Rata, one of the main places to stay in Cameron Highlands. It has its own little bar (this did not factor into our decision to stay here) with a pool table (ditto previous) and a large camp fire every night (ad nauseum ditto-ness). Needless to say we have acquired quite a taste for Chang Beer - the cheapest beer in the bar - while we have been here! We took our first day to wander around the town and get a feel for the Highlands. The temperature is so much cooler here and such a relief after the hot sweat of Penang.

These flowers at the flower farm are known as Butterfly flowers because when you take two buds and put them together - hey presto, a butterfly! Not a real one. It just looks like one. It's not magic or anything.

The scenery is beautiful, as the Highlands are home to countless strawberry farms, bee farms, flower farms and tea plantations, many of which are open to the public at no charge. However, these farms and plantations are known locally as "agri-tourism", and Cameron Highlands is probably the most tourist heavy place we have visited so far, which strangely, we were not quite expecting. Because of this, although the scenery is beautiful (if you keep your eyes averted from the endless hotel blocks and souvenir shops - you would not believe how many gifts you can produce shaped like a strawberry until you've seen this place), it is much harder to spend time with or to meet many local people, which has been a key feature that has made our trip so far. However, it has been a great opportunity to meet other travellers, which we haven't had much of an opportunity to do in Sumatra because tourists have been quite few and far between there.

On our first night, we discovered the wonders of the T Cafe, a local first floor cafe that serves all kinds of food in the most singularly laid back and welcoming atmosphere. It reminded me for some reason of some of the cafes I've visited in Brighton before, the staff are very friendly and the place is well loved by locals and visitors alike. Moreover, they do a lovely vegetarian lasagne that I was very eager to try. Not quite as good as I've become accustommed to at Peace, but definitely not bad.....!

The sheer beau-tea of the plantation - no wonder this stuff tastes so good.

And to give you an idea of the sheer scale of this migh-tea operation.....

The following day we slept late after a few beers (the night before, I mean, we didn't start the day with beer - we can do that at home - although some people here really do!!) and headed out in the afternoon for a pre-arranged tour of the local farms and a tea plantation. None of us were too excited about this, but it was cheap and something to do with a free afternoon so off we toddled. Our guide was Balu, a local young man with a very dry sense of humour and an infinite sense of patience. Our travelling companions were a family from Singapore (great appetite but no sense of time) and a young man from Holland, who was instantly adopted by the Singapore family who spent all their time trying to feed him! Eventually he started to hang with us at each stop, I think to escape their attentions. The Singapore family were also late for every single stop that we made, despite poor Balu telling us very politely what time to be back. This is a good example of cultural differences, as, being English we were not only on time, but waiting patiently on the bus in an orderly queue....

By strict order of the management..... I think they meant the flowers, though there were a few worried looking chickens about and a man with Dennis Healey eyebrows...

Our first stop was the flower farm, and we were expecting to be underwhelmed, but actually we all loved it. The flowers were absolutely stunning and there were so many I had never seen before. I went a bit snap happy, but I am still trying to figure out the zoom on my camera, and my little screen isn't always informative, so I discarded as many as I kept in the end. I have also started to master the art of photography at a jaunty angle, and these are fast becoming my 'signature shot', as you've seen with the waterfall above! Highlight of the flower farm was definitely the peppering of very surreal statues everywhere, from a HUGE Indian's head to strange little cherubs and even a badly coloured in Mickey Mouse. One minute you're wandering through a small jungle of wild flowers and the next you're face to face with Goofy - random.

Our brave little Dutch dude with the Rhino Beetle - I touched it! The beetle, I mean, not the Dutch dude. I'm not a perv. Well. Ok. But not that kind of perv.

We moved on to the Tea Plantation, which was the part of the Camerons I had been most excited about and it was no disappointment. We visited the Boh plantation, which has been owned by a Scottish family, the Russells since the 1800's. The third generation of the Russells now runs the company, Caroline. Strange to come to the Highlands only to find the Scottish ruling the local economy. Work on a tea plantation is hard and financially unrewarding. There was a time when tea was hand-picked, mostly by women, but now the majority of tea is picked by machines that are run by two men at a time and produce three times the amount of tea that hand-picking could. Only up on the highest slopes does the tradition of hand-picking continue, and the pay - whether you work on the machines or the slopes - depends on the amount you produce each day, but is very low.

"It is not a good way to make a living," Balu tells us, shaking his head.

The brave scorpion woman - shortly before she lost it big time and threw one on the floor and I lost it big time and moved at something approaching the speed of light. Seriously, time slowed down around me. It was like the Matrix, man.

The plantation though is beautiful, really beautiful, with the bright tea leaves stretching across the hills into the distance like a wild green patchwork quilt. After a brief tour of the factory, showing us how the leaves are crushed and dried, pressed and sorted, we ran across to the cafe - which stretches out over the plantation on long wooden legs - to taste the tea and we were not disappointed. Tip for the wise: drink coffee in Indonesia (so good I sent some home) and drink tea in Malaysia (so good I'll be sending some home). There was something wildly romantic about the tea plantation that makes the harsh reality of life there hard to believe, and it was hard to avoid the images in my mind of running across the hills of the plantation like a tea-Maria (see what I did there), hair streaming behind me, singing 'The hills are alive!'.....

"Er, back on the bus, miss!" called Balu, jogging me out of my reverie.

Next stop the bee farm! Those of you who know me well know of my fascination with bees and so I was really looking forward to this. The bees were fantastic and I could watch them for hours.

This flower was something else, it was like paper - except real. They were so beautiful that although by trade I am not a nature photographer, I could not resist having a go. It could have been worse, right? Right.....?

"No get too close to bees!!" warned the Singapore father behind me, as I leaned my face towards one of the many, many hives on the farm.

"They're really not likely to sting, you know," I said, "Because they'll die."

"Bees are crazy," he whispered to me confidentially.

I grinned and looked both ways around me before answering, "So am I," I told him.

He looked shocked for a second before starting to giggle. He didn't talk to me again though, except when they all came back on the bus with corn on the cob when he - quite worriedly, actually - offered me his one. His corn, I mean.

I resisted the urge to buy honey from the souvenir shop (I don't even like honey, but the temptation was very strong - I'm such a consumer), but did buy a bracelet and a new pendant - this one with the Chinese symbol for Dragon on it - current jewellery count is now at 4 bracelets and 5 necklaces! Score!

Ok, I'm actually so pleased with this one, I almost can't believe I took it - and on my little camera, which Kate and Ang's cameras snigger at behind my camera's back and think my camera doesn't know, except my camera is really paranoid and so it does know - but I did! Huzzah!!

We moved on to the Butterfly Farm, which I loved. As well as butterflies, there were a plethora of insects, from horned beetles to scorpions and the guides are very keen for you to hold them. I wanted to hold a scorpion, but then was fortunate enough to witness a girl in front of me take one, only to have the guide throw another two onto her clothing.

"No, no! Please no!" she screamed, to no avail, and I did pretty much the same when one of them fell to the floor and began scampering around. My inner grace was completely lost as I shoved the elderly and toddlers from my path to save myself. Still a way to go on that inner zen, it seems. Awkward.

I'm calling this one 'The Butterfly and the Flower'. I took it at the Butterfly Farm - go figure. Michael, in some senses perhaps we are all the butterfly with the incomplete wing? Beautiful in our imperfections...

Our final stop was the strawberry farm, and this was the only part that genuinely did underwhelm us, as we have plenty of these back in Blighty. However, the cafe with its array of strawberry cakes and tarts more than made up for this as we skipped the farm and headed straight for tea and cake. Smooth. The sun was beginning to set, and we were all heartily pleased with our day's labours and the sheer amount Balu had helped us to take in over a period of about 5 hours. It was a whistle stop tour of the Cameron's favourite tourist attractions, but as we're not really here for the attractions, it was the best way for us to do it.

That evening we treated ourselves to several Chang's and played a fair amount of pool. Apart from one disastrous potting of the white with the black - what a shameful Rookie error - I won all the games I played and then we went onto play doubles with two other travellers. Charlie, a young Englishman - from a village called Ham, near Sandwich in Kent, you couldn't make it up, could you? - had come straight to Malaysia from China, where he had spent three months teaching English in a posh school.

"What was that like?" I asked.

He smiled, "I tell everyone it was an experience," he told me, "These are very affluent kids, usually sons and daughters of high level communist party members. The headmaster ran with the Olympic Torch, actually."

"Jazzy," I mused.

Our other pool player was Kane, an Aussie and cool as a cucumber, with a very dry sense of humour. When we were joined by Ruby, the young daughter of one of the staff at Daniel's, who is, shall we say, somewhat exuberant, Kane was far from subtle in his attempts to drive her away.

Missssssster Lizzzzzzzzzzzard..........
I know it looks as though he's falling off, but he was actually asleep. At least I'm hoping he was, because if he was dead then this shot actually becomes something really morbid.

"Hey Ruby, why don't you go and tend the fire? Ruby, was that the phone? Ruby, are kids allowed in the bar, I'm sure I saw a sign. Ruby, I think your mum wants you in reception right now...." all delivered in that trademark twanged accent.

We were a little tiddly after pool and I vaguely remember posting some obscenities on Facebook - sorry about that Steve 'Bee Dance' Bomford! But the next day we managed to do something scary - our very first jungle trek on our own!

We were assured at reception that the walk we had planned would take no more than two and a half hours, and we would get to take in Orang Asli, an aboriginal village on the way. However, it seemed to take about an hour and a half to get to the start of the trek itself, which had no markers as to the trail we were on (I was expecting something a little more organised, a bit like Queen Elizabeth Country Park, but with bigger insects) and involved a climb through a village filled very basic housing and inhabited by very friendly and helpful people. Our chosen route would also mean we could stop for a light lunch before our jungle trek.

Orang Asli, the aboriginal village we shouldn't have been at, when we realised we were where we shouldn't have been yet. Everyone was so helpful to us and so friendly here. See that cloud. That's rain about three minutes away from us starting our jungle trek. Fortunately, it never lasts long here!

"We're looking for Path 10?" we asked, showing the map at the village shop.

Although no one we spoke to spoke much English, all of the people we asked along the way pointed up, up, up. This was strange to us as the path took us right past people's houses on the hillside, making us feel that we were trespassing, but everyone was very friendly, with some people and children even accompanying us for part of the way there.

We stopped for a rest at the top of the hill and I asked Kate for the map. I had a funny feeling that I had seen Orang Asli, the name of the village, before. Sure enough, the 'aboriginal village' that reception had told us about that would be 'halfway through' our walk, was the village we had just come through.

The gang of pioneers - just before we realised we were in the wrong place. Look how happy we are in our ignorance!

"Aren't we here?" I said, pointing out the village to Kate on the map.

She glanced over, "No, no, we're further down, look here's path 10." She looked closer, "That's weird, it looks like.....Hold on, let's look at the smaller map." She turned the map over to the one he had been following.

"But this says Path 10! Here! This is where we should be!"

We were all bemused somewhat until I realised that on one of the maps, the one we had been following, Path 12 had actually been mislabelled as Path 10. Hence our final destination. As none of the people we had spoken to spoke much English, they had not known the number we were asking for.

Ah, how we laughed. We thought it shouldn't be too far down if we were on Path 12 instead of 10, and it would bring us right back to Tanah Rata at the end, so we would just hold out for a late lunch in about an hour's time. Ah, the sweet naivety......

Me inside a very big tree in the jungle. There were a lot of shots like this as I was quite light headed and behaving like an idiot. The rest are censored and will never be shown on cyber space. Ever.

Two hours later and we were still climbing through the jungle. It was about 4pm and we hadn't eaten anything since 10.30am. When I started to feel my blood sugar crashing, I must admit, things got a little hairy in my mind. I've never had a sugar crash in the jungle before.......I decided that it would do no good to dwell on it, and that just to keep going was the answer, so I did.

After a while though, Kate, who was walking behind me, and had noticed that my footing was getting slightly uneven and I seemed to be losing balance a lot, called out "Sarah, are you ok?"

I fessed up that I wasn't feeling good and Kate and Ang were great, we had a bit of a rest, they fed me peanuts and then Ang found a bit of chocolate at the bottom of her bag.

"Mohammed gave it to me in Medan and I forgot all about it til now!" Good old Mohammed, helping us out of sticky situations even when he's not here!

Twenty minutes later, apart from having an odd case of the shivers, I was feeling good again. This was when we heard a series of shouts, screams and crashes through the jungle behind us. A group of westerners about 8 people strong came panting round the path.

"How much further down?" they asked us.

"About 45 minutes, all downhill from here, it's all good," We told them (not strictly true as there is a steep climb up for them at the end of that 45 minutes, but who wants to hear that?), "How much further up from here?" We asked, referring to the peak of Mt Jasar, which we had originally planned not to climb.

"Two minutes tops," one of the men told us, as a woman came crashing out behind him.

"Watch out for the bees!" she called, clawing frantically at her back and her face, "I've just been stung by one three times and they chase you!"

I resisted the urge to point out that as far as I am aware a bee can only sting you once, as I thought this might not be helpful.

"There's a sign saying there's a hive!" One of the others called back to us.

Cripes, we thought, relieved that there wasn't much more climbing to do and glad it was all downhill from there.

Two minutes later we passed a couple who stopped to say hallo, but still we found no bees.

Two minutes after this, we heard screams and shouts and then a familiar crashing through the jungle and the woman reappeared.

"Bees! There are bees! I am stung! In my hair!" She shouted.

We deduced that there was a bee in her hair and Kate whipped off her jumper and preceded to whip it into the woman's hair. Suddenly a large bee flew out of her hair and a large expletive flew out of my mouth. It was really quite a huge bee, and a very bright red it seemed to me, but it disappeared as fast as it arrived and there were no more. It seemed that when the bees attacked (when good bees go bad) the woman and her partner ran in opposite directions, and she waited five minutes or so, visibly shaken and stung a few times before venturing back. We heard her call to her friend and he answered from close by and we heard no more screams so all was well.

Still climbing. It's been hours and we're still climbing. Oh Sweet Lord. Yeah, get a photo of me now, when even my sweat is sweating. Thanks. That's brilliant. One for the blog. Oh, and I'm doing something stupid with my tongue. Perfect.

We walked another few minutes before we came to a piece of tape strung across the path with a note attached to it facing the other way. Due to our wrong path adventure, we had taken the reverse of the route to most other trekkers and as we climbed under the tape we read "Danger! Caution! Bee hive in this section and beware of bees for next 40 metres" (a clear missed opportunity to write Bee-ware here). A quick calculation told us that the spot we had picked for our half an hour break had been smack in the middle of this danger zone!! Why the bees had not attacked us is a mystery......

It was another few minutes to the summit, and cloud cover misted the view completely, but this in no way marred our exhilaration at having made it on our somewhat unplanned trek! There was something beautifully eerie about standing 1600 metres in the air as clouds washed over our faces and we paused awhile before heading back down.

The paths on this part of the jungle treks are almost entirely unmarked and we came across several junctions where it was more by luck than judgement that we picked the right one. What we didn't want was to inadvertently pick Path 6, which everyone warns against and even the map advises not to take as the path is very overgrown and trekkers are warned that it is easy to get lost. After a while though, we could hear the sounds of civilisation close by and we were confident we were on the right track. Going down the mountain was a bit hairy in places, as the gradient is steep, but I prefer climbing down to climbing up, with all the little jumps and slides and we were careful to take it slowly on any parts with a steep drop to one or both sides of the path.

By the time we got back to Tanah Rata, we were exhausted and no longer hungry but we had eaten nothing but peanuts since morning and headed to our favourite Indian cafe for some well deserved claypot noodles and murtabak. The portions are huge and for once none of us managed to finish our meals so it was back to the Lodge for a well deserved rest. As my neck muscles were seizing up so badly that I could now only exercise peripheral vision by eye movement (ok, maybe I'm being melodramatic - a little....), the girls gave me some an organic version of deep heat and after a few applications I was right as rain, and fast asleep.

Today we've taken the day to relax and are planning to treat ourselves to a bottle of wine tonight before our trip to the Perhentian Islands tomorrow, where we're hoping to stay in Kecil island for a few days. We're keeping an eye on the Thai borders, too, and travel through the southern borders from Malaysia is no longer an option due to civil unrest so we're looking at an alternative route to Cambodia. There's no internet in the islands though, so I'll be offline for a while and we've got a couple of weeks left in Malaysia left yet before we have to make up our minds. We're thinking that maybe we will have to look for a cheap flight into Cambodia, where we would like to be for my birthday, and it would be great to make it to Vietnam before I have to fly home in August, but if we don't, it's a great excuse to come back again - bringing as many of you all with me as I can if you're up for it!!

Thanks again for all the comments, emails and facebook messages. Can't tell you how much I love them and to those of you sending me pictures, this is doubled, I've created a new folder on my pc called Memories of Home and looking at them when I'm homesick makes me feel so much better! Matt, if you haven't seen the photo of us all at my leaving do, ask James - it's such a great shot of you, and of us all together!

And talking of great shots....This is taken with Kate's panoramic thingummydoodah on her camera and I think it's genius. I can't quite recall why I look so scared though........ But I love this image, a lot! Until next time.....xxxx