Cameron Highlands day One

 When the British set up this resort town they brought their tea habits with them. There are two old plantations they started still operating today. Some of the original Nissin Huts brought up are still around, keeping the production dry. Since I’d be motorcycling some ways, I figured I’d start my day with a cuppa cawfee. There’s a local specialty, white coffee. It’s a light roasted bean served like a cappuccino with lots of milk and sugar.

Now I’m buzzing and so is the bike. We’re at altitude but blissfully this machine is well maintained and happy to hit the road. It’s a 30 minute zip from my hotel to the plantation and the views are fantastic. Thick jungle, huge trees, serene farms. The humidity makes the surrounding area quite lush and helpfully, takes the wrinkles out of my shirt. 

Can you tell I’m caffinated?

The plantation is huge and has a comparatively small visitor’s area. A cafe that serves their own, a shop, a factory tour, and a short hike with a view. I start with the tour. I’m welcomed in to the factory floor and from behind a safety barrier, get to watch the tea go from picked leaves to drying, fermenting, CTC, and sorting. The whole room reeks of plant life and smells nothing like tea. I guess it smells like fresh tea. Interesting.

Tee-Werke

I hit the cafe for some sampling. I’m going to leave with souvenirs, just need to find out what. It’s a less than ideal spot to sample, they don’t really serve everything available on the other side of the wall. Luckily, I can just buy a pack of whatever I want to try and pay for hot water, turns out that's cheaper than buying a cup from the cafe. I make my selection and saddle up.

So much tea

I’ve got the Zorki with me and with heat it making it happy. Rangefinder cameras make me develop an interesting habit. It’s all too simple, when you have the light, to set the camera ahead of time and snap a photo when you see it. The only thing faster than autofocus is pre-focusing. On the ride down I caved into my temptations and snapped a photo while motorcycling. Nothing too crazy, you don’t even need to use the viewfinder, just point and guess.

It’s time for lunch and I’m passing through Ringlet, the local town next to the tourist towns of CH. I see a sign that says Mien and remembering what scraps of Chinese I learn realize that I would in fact like noodles. Inside I’m the only non-Chinese person here. The old man behind the lunch buffet beckons me forward, I investigate and see no noodles. I inquire and he said one minute. One minute later he returns with a bowl of noodles. Simple, he knows what I want and I eat it. They have a fantastic sambal to go with it. Chilis, noodles, fresh veggies, I’m in heaven.

Farms farms farms

Back to my hotel for a read and a midday nap. I have a copy of Nudge and it’s off to a good start, an interesting read. I spent most of my afternoon idly lounging around, seems like the thing to do here. As the evening rolled in, I was hoping I’d be able to ride to the night market to the road but the rain has demotivated me. What’s the fun in street food if I’m just going to get soaked.

I hit a convenience store for dinner. I’m not all that hungry. Any real meals I eat here tend to be on the bigger side, thankfully the local Seven Elevens and Family Marts are loaded with cheap and fresh food. I pop an onigiri and head to the bar to read. In come two Aussies staying at my hotel. As it turns out, they’re both motorcyclists with a penchant for adventure and we have a lot to chat about. They’ve just finished a week of Enfielding through India (jealous) and bow they’re killing time before a rugby match they want to see in Singapore. In addition to their wandering, they’re looking at Malaysia as a possible retirement destination. You could do worse.

They turn in at about 9 and I’ve still got energy so I head for the local hostel bar. They’ve got a pool table and I’m itching for a game. The table is worn in the worst sort of way. It’s still very playable but the regulars have a tremendous advantage by knowing all the quirks. One of the cushions moves. There are at least two slopes on the slate. You get the picture. The people playing here are good fun. Just the cast of characters you’d expect to see in a place like this. Lots of wandering Europeans, some locals, and some people who have become locals. Tiger is cheaper here and there’s a lot of people to talk to. I think I’ll be back.