Realized we’ve hardly posted since coming to Malaysia. Well, the big draw was Thaipusam, a Hindu festival that we rushed down to Kuala Lumpur (KL) for. I can’t say too much about this for the time being: first because we’re still digesting the entire experience; second because we still have a lot of background research to do; and third because that will likely be the subject for the third Sun article. Here’s a pic, though.
After this experience-that-we-can’t-talk-about-yet, we fled to Tanah Rata in the Cameron Highlands, a Banff-like little town in the hills where temperatures hover around a positively orgasmic 20°C, and taking a shower isn’t this hopelessly futile errand, since I instantly burst into sweat as soon as I step out of the stall. A one-street town, the kind we love: no foreign subway or evil taxi-ripoffs to worry about.
The thing to do here is go for treks/walks into the lush surrounds. The local folklore, however, includes a fellow named Jim Thompson who, after introducing the world to the beauty of Thai silk, decided to go for a stroll in the Highlands and promptly vanished. Not wanting to enjoy the same fate, and being inexcusably lazy, we did none of this, and instead spent four days gorging ourselves on “steamboats”. You’ve probably had this under a different name before. The largish Chinese community here seems to have made this the thing to do in town. You pay per person, and they bring out a huge pile of vegetables and raw meats, and a big pot of soup on a gas burner. As the soup roils away, you cook your meat in it; afterwards and during you can drink the soupy goodness and fish for those random food particles you lost during the cooking process. They do it with flare here: our first burner burst into flames and they had to give us a new one.
We did manage to go out to the tea plantations for which the area is known, from back when the British were kicking around. They still produce some pretty good tea, as Nazma the tea junkie will attest to. We’re so high up that the tops of the beautiful green hills are shrouded in cloud and mist all day long.
This being a Muslim country, it’s a bit hard to get good bacon these days, though there’s no shortage of attempts to provide. Here’s the latest: beef bacon, a greasy stringy pseudojerky mess.
