Focus on Food - Part 2 - Where I Buy it...

Food and shopping options are plentiful here but there is no "perfect" place to do all the shopping. There are super stores that remind me of Walmart or Target Superstores called Tesco and Aeon. There are many several smaller neighborhood grocery store options such as Giant (not affiliated with the American brand) and Econsave, supposedly the least expensive (and most smelly in my opinion). There are 24-hour options like 7-11 and FU MARTS which are like 7-11's with a funnier name...And, last but not least, the "farmer's markets" called  "wet markets" for reasons I'll explain later.

First, the superstores...I hate to admit it but they are my "go-to" first choice. They have air-conditioning and refrigerated coolers that are...well....actually refrigerated. Even though they tend to lay out the raw unpackaged meat, they do tend to keep a supply of ice underneath all those protein parts. They tend to have many fewer flies than the neighborhood stores. The drawbacks are their hours...most doen't open until 10:00 am-a little late for my  "early to bed, early to rise" schedule.

Another drawback to these stores is the freshness and stock. In other words, it's hit or miss as to whether either will have yogurt, skim milk, or bananas on any given day. (Note to self:  try to find out what day their trucks arrive.)  One plus is that they are "trying" to cater to the large expat population here so both have different foreign options from French butter and Australian cheese, to Jif peanut butter and Smucker's jelly, The problem is that you can't plan a menu around what you want to buy. Rather, you must see what's available on that day. A quick internet search for "recipes" based upon today's ingredients and you're all set.

Second, the neighborhood grocery store options....As Asian friend took me to one a couple of weeks ago to help me navigate to store. She uses this store for fresh produce and fish (not meat) but she did recommend that I come first thing in the morning.

Fast forward a few days, and I decided to venture back in. I chose this particular store because it was a "left turn" on the way home from work and I much prefer those on the motorcycle. I didn't give much thought to the fact that it was 4:30 pm.....Walking in the door, I was met by the gag-inducing smell of ripe Durien fruit (no offense meant to those who find the scent of this fruit pleasing to the nostrils..)

 Not to be deterred, I walked a bit further, grabbed a plastic baggie and tried to locate some unblemished, recognizable produce. I ended up with a single head of cabbage. Then, I walked to the bins of fresh fish.Thousands of dull eyes of all shapes and sizes were staring at me. The fish eyes were imploring me to find the ice man. In fact, one fish, covered in flies, suggested to me that perhaps he'd been sitting in the tepid water of melted ice for most of the day. Fish was NOT going to be on the menu for dinner.

Carrying my lone head of cabbage a little further, I walked to the refrigerated section where I found a small container of "Greek Style" yogurt. I checked the date and was satisfied that it had some time remaining before expiration. After paying for my 6 oz of yogurt and bald, white cabbage head I left as quickly as polite behavior would allow.

Next, the quickie marts...Depending upon the neighborhood where each is located determines the availability of alcohol.  For example, the 7-11 near our house does not have alcohol but the one near the beach does. It must have to do with tourism. The FU MART near our house has delicious, decadent Magnum ice cream bars worth a late-night ride for their sugar, chocolate fix.

Finally, the "wet markets". I think they get their name because they sell fish and products from the sea (dried fish, seaweed, bottom feeders, top feeders,) that might have been caught it deep water, brackish water, rivers and/or sludge. Another possible reason they might be called "wet markets" is because you have to roll up your pants and wear Crocs to keep your feet and pants out of the muck. On a positive note, the produce is good and apparently the prices are very good. I'm never so sure because we are obviously foreigners so I think we ALWAYS pay foreigner prices which are probably close to the printed prices at the superstores.

In conclusion, we are lucky to have so many shopping options and I can usually find something good to eat. Flexibility and breathing through one's mouth are the keys to a successful shopping experience.

Focus on Food - Part 1- Where it's Grown

I've been thinking a lot about food lately: where it's grown, where to buy it, how to prepare it. Basically, I've had a two-year hiatus from cooking because, frankly, cooking for myself was not that fun. Ordering take- out was so much easier and less wasteful...And, to be honest, being more of a "functional" cook than a "gourmet" cook (Think Rachel Ray vs. Julia Childs), all those unknown ingredients are actually intimidating. So, this is the first of a 3-part series on my "focus" on food.

Until I moved abroad, I never gave much though to where our food was grown. We just ate what the grocery store sold. Growing up in a small, isolated Western town, we ate what was "in-season" or we ate frozen. Moving to bigger cities, I learned there were many more food options than I'd been away of. I ventured out...a little... With the advent of Whole Foods, Sprouts and other "fresh-food" markets, even more variety became available. But, I still never paid much attention to "organic" or "health food" or farm workers or distance traveled from field to table. Now I think about these things all the time.

First I think about "organic" food,.(I dislike the term "organic" because all food comes from the organic ground...) But, using our American definition of "organic", yes, I can find "organic" produce here in Lumut and I do buy some of it. But, mostly I just focus on really washing everything. Let's face it. For a country, mentioned just this week in the Wall Street Journal  as one where paying the "right" government officials can cause some regulations to be overlooked, I seriously doubt there are any kinds of enforced regulations about pesticide use and what the term "organic"actually implies.  I just assume there are pesticides, herbicides, and ambiguity between waste dumps and compost piles. Wash...wash...wash...(Clorox bleach travels a long way to get here, but I'm glad it's here.)

Yes, we have got health food stores and I do shop there for things like oatmeal, rice, and soy sauce. It is one place I can find MSG-free, salt-free, preservative-free products, and sugar-free products. The rice, so far, has been bug-free, unlike the 20 kg pack we bought at the grocery store, but I still wash the rice until the water runs clear. The dark brown oatmeal is wonderful, and the soy sauce is delicious without making me swell the next day.

Here is a true conversation between my husband and a co-worker at the break room to illustrate why I use a health food store and try not to buy pre-packaged food.

Co-worker: Here...try this Quaker instant oatmeal. I eat it every day. It's delicious.
Husband: Thanks but my wife won't let me eat that stuff.
Co-Worker: What?! That's crazy! Here, I'll give you a pack anyway and you can eat it at work.She'll never know.
(Off he marched)

(He returned a few minutes later...)

Co-worker: Darn! Your wife is right. I just read the ingredients. It's got MSG, palm oil and 21 grams of sugar! I loved this stuff...Darn.


Just for fun, I sent the co-worker a photo a 100% Quaker Oats (They were even "instant" in case he hasn't got time to cook) and suggested he add some raisins, nuts, and a little brown sugar to give it some flavor without the "flavor enhancer."

Several things have gotten me thinking about the distance food travels. For example, we can buyWashington Apples here in Lumut. (Probably some trade agreement where Malaysia buys Washington Apples and we buy palm oil for French fries...Who knows..) Finding apples in July made me pretty sure they were last year's crop, had traveled many thousands of miles, and had sat in cold storage for umpteen months. But, they were still crunchy which is a nice change from all the local, soft, smushy tropical fruit. On the flip side, the apples didn't have a lot of flavor.

Another example of distance food travels are today's  fresh strawberries purportedly from Australia...Remember, the Southern hemisphere is springing into summer ..... The confusing part of the strawberries is that there is a year-round strawberry season in Cameron Highlands, about 2 1/2 hours away, but the package said the berries were from Australia. So, I'm trying to figure out why we don't get local strawberries in the store. Here are some of my guesses:

1) The local strawberries are grown in hot houses in the center of a tourist mecca so maybe they only have the capacity to meet the tourism demand.
2) The "Australia" strawberries really ARE from Cameron Highlands and they'll sell for a higher price if they say they're from Australia.
3) The farm workers in Cameron Highlands can earn more money by selling to tourists.

(My husband guesses "2".)

And, of course, this week I learned of China's $4.7 billion take-over of Virginia's Smithfield ham. On one hand, the take-over makes perfect sense. There are lots of people in China who eat pork so the potential growth of this market it huge. On the flip side, both countries have very different management styles. (Have we got non-discrimination policies for vegan pork processing employees?!)

To be quite honest, I've been on kind of a pork kick this week (The grocery store probably got a recent pork shipment with some nice options)... tasty pork chops on Tuesday, delicious pork spare ribs at Kenneth's, a Chinese :Western - style" restaurant here in Lumut,  Johnsonville Brats for dinner last night and bacon for breakfast. As a matter of fact, here in Malaysia, there are lots of Chinese who probably buy their pork from China. They also have restaurants that serve alcohol (not that it should matter, but on Friday night, it does...), and they know how to cook pork.

Now, before I lead you to believe that at our home we  only eat products that have shipped from half-way across the world, I  assure you that is not true. I am pleasantly surprised and impressed by the quantity and variety of local produce that I can find on any given day at the store. Here are some recent examples:

Cabbage - there is one entire super-store sized aisle devoted to cabbages: Napa, Chinese, red, little Chinese, big Chinese, and so forth. I chose  a manageable-sized one last week that was delicious.
Bok Choy - there are many sizes, styles, colors, and names for what I think is bok choy...I just pick a new one each week and give it a taste.
Mushrooms - too many sizes and colors to count...delicious.
Fruit - All shapes, sizes, and skin types from stickery to fuzzy, to mottled, to prickly, to stinky. The texture of some is hard for me to swallow, but mixed in a smoothie with Greek-style yogurt, ice cubes and whatever other fruit is starting to go bad, and I've made some delicious, refreshing drinks.

I'm enjoying my local fresh vegetables, apples from Washington, strawberries from wherever, yogurt and feta from Greece, pork from Virginia, chickens and eggs from Lumut, etc. all at prices lower than I could find anywhere in the US...apples included...

Golfing in Lumut, Malaysia

I'm not a good golfer. Sure, I can hit an occasional ball that is straight and has both loft and distance. And, one-in-a-while, I can sink a 15-foot putt going up a  hill with a slight break to the right. On rare occasion, I can hit a ball out of a sand trap. Once I  actually hit a ball across a body water and it landed on the other side rather than plunking in the middle of the lake. No, I'm NOT a good golfer.  But, I LOVE golf courses and the "idea" of golfing in exotic places and making new friends. So, when given the opportunity to golf in Malaysia, it was easy to say "yes."

Not being sure what to expect regarding dress code, I bought a no-name, collared shirt (no Polo Garage 3- inch logos for me) during my last trip to KL. I figured my well-worn Eddie Bauer purple skort could suffice as a golf skirt, and my super comfortable purple Keens could pretend to be the sporty Keen golf shoes I'd seen during my last trip to the States. My friend's spare set of Chinese imitation Callaway clubs completed my ensemble.

After passing through the security gate and walking to the Pro Shop, our first line a business was to pay our fees. Luckily my friends were members so I could pay the guest rate of 94RM (about $32). In addition to the green fees, carts, caddies, and insurance were required bringing the grand total for the day to 147 RM or $45.32  Now, I don't want to sound cheap but I was flummoxed as to why I needed both a cart AND a caddie. I mean, doesn't the caddie carry my clubs? And doesn't a cart carry the clubs? Why would I need both? Besides, a caddie might actually figure out that I can only use about 5 of the 14 clubs in the bag anyway. In addition,  I had the audacity to also inquire what the "insurance" is for.

Me: What's the insurance for?
Cashier: Huh? 
(I guess she didn't understand my accent.)
Me: So... The insurance... 4 ringits ($1.14)....Is it for if I break a window or hit a golfer on the head?
(I was trying to be funny but the "for if" sentence structure is pretty complicated. I could tell she didn't understand)
Cashier: Insurance. Oh. You break you club. We fix. Not give new club. Fix old club.
(I'm imagining collecting on my insurance payment after I get angry, hit my new Big Bertha against a palm tree, and break it in two..not that it's ever happened but just imaginging..)
Me: OK. Can I buy a couple of balls and tees too?

A few minutes later, the three of us headed to our respective carts, gave the marshal our "paid" receipt and waited for our caddie.We were the only people at the club house (and I suspect on the course) aside from the cashier, the marshal, 5 gardeners, 2 security guards, one bathroom attendant, and one restaurant server. The view in front of us was beautiful: all sizes and colors of mature palm trees, glorious shrubs and flowers in full bloom, lovely ponds with mirror reflections of the greenery surrounding them, birds chatting, 3-foot long reptiles lazily crossing the cart path while curling and uncurling their pointy tongues in front of us. Being only 8:30 in the morning, the temperature was still comfortable and the angle of the sun was still providing ample shade.

After another few minutes, it became clear that the caddie was not there - possibly sleeping was the idea we entertained. Luckily there were no crowds rushing us to tee off, but the threat of finishing in the noon-day heat and the fact that the marshal said he would bring the caddie later, prompted us to start our engines.

Teeing off with unfamiliar clubs and after a long hiatus was not too bad. My golfing buddies have fluid strokes, hit nice drives in the sweet spot of the club, and know the course hazards. But I don't think I held them up too much. Golf balls bounce well and get good distance on the cart path. Palm tree trunks can angle a ball right back onto the fairway. And, the tall grass in the rough acts just like a tee. My driver works great. Sure I'd like to shoot a couple of birdies and par a couple of holes like them but I don't think I have the motivation to practice. Besides, I bring the "fun" in golf with my jokes and antics. Practice would mean "serious" and who needs that?!

Back to the caddie...she showed up in the middle of hole two. She was wearing black jeans, a yellow, long sleeved shirt with a tight collar up to her neck, a white baseball cap with a long towel hanging out from all sides and covering her forehead, ear, and neck, and weightlifting gloves on her hands. I'm sure the idea is to keep as little sun off her skin as possible but I was getting even hotter just looking at her. Sweat was dripping into my eyes by about the 3rd hole and it wasn't from physical exertion..Remember, we had carts AND a caddie.

(As a side note, the caddies are all young (maybe 14-18 year olds?) females from Indonesia  She marked our balls on the greens, wiped off our clubs, and cheered  for us with polite clapping if we made a good shot.)

Because golfing is not my passion, but rather a beautiful "walk in the park",  Malaysia is perfect for me. There is no rush from a low-handicap male, foursome behind me. There is no fear and pressure from a 220 yard drive landing next to me as I try to chip on the green. There is no marshal driving towards me on the cart path yelling "pick up the pace" only to find that I have to sit and wait at the next hole because the next 5 holes are backed up. (All of the previous examples are true.) In fact, even on Sundays here in Lumut when the number of golfers increases from 3 to around 15 (and 5 of those 15 are expats), the only rush is to "beat the heat". Golfing in Malaysia is stress-free, beautiful, and reasonably priced. Yes, I'll do it again, but I will still ride my bike sooner than I'll practice my golf game.

Ride to Ayer Tawar - New Village

For lack of a better plan, today we decided to head towards Ayer Tawar - New Village for  one simple reason...We can't pronounce it. Every time I try to say Ayer Tawar out loud I feel like Rosanne Rosanna Dana  from Saturday Night Live a bazillion years ago trying to say "water" which comes out like "wawa" which sounds like "awatawa" (short "a" sound) which sounds like most of the Chinese words around here. Then, I think about buying Utz potato chips from the WaWa Convenience Mart in Pennsylvania or New Jersey and I have a little chuckle and remember the countless times we laughed at the simple sentence, "Let's buy some Utz at the WaWa" and now I'm living in a country where everything sounds like a family joke.

At precisely 7:26 we headed out the door and started peddling. We were both enjoying the wide shoulder, the shade from the palm trees, and the relatively cooler temperatures..90 degrees instead of the usual 91. (Did I mention there is not much fluctuation in temperature from day to day or night to day?)

Sime Darby Palm Oil Plantation

Here are the things I saw and what I thought about when I saw them:

1. A gaggle of motor scooters with two friendly teenage musicians per cycle and an occasional guitar hanging from the back passenger's shoulder. They were fascinated by our biking and our ability to ride almost as fast as their little scooters would take them. And, they never failed to wave  and/or pump their arms as if they were trying to get an 18 wheel trucker to blow his horn each time they rode by. I returned they enthusiasm with a wave and a little ding of my bike bell. (They passed us twice because the group of scooter riders had to stop and remove one passenger from the scooter with the flat tire ..apparently you can drive on a flat tire a little farther with less weight on the scooter...)

2. A sign for a village called Kg. Colombia. "Kg." is the abbreviation for "kampung" and" kampung" means "village" so I got to thinking about why this part of the world would have a village named "Columbia" like the mighty river of our home state and the discoverer of America, and the best I could reckon is that  a long time ago this village may have been settled by the Portuguese and they named it for their famous explorer.
*A quick search on the internet yielded confirmation of my idea..Sure enough the Portuguese let by Naval Alfonso d'Albequerque (another reference to my native home) found this area while searching for salt  necessary for preserving foods since they didn't have ice or refrigerators.

3. A Chinese cemetery. I'm fascinated by these cemeteries because they combine Buddhist traditions with chair graves but Christian crosses can also be found on the tops of many. When I'm not worried about getting run into by a group of teenage, musician, scooter riders, I'll stop and take a picture.

4. Arrival in Ayer Tawar and wondering why it's called the "New Village" because I didn't see anything "new."
*Here's what I learned on Wikipedia after I got home: The town is divided into two sections known as Old Town and New Town by the Ayer Tawar River. Ironically, certain buildings in the Old Town are even newer than those in the New Town due to redevelopment, from repeated fires which gutted the original thatched wooden shophouses. Today, development is going on in the New Town along the row of shophouses next to Jalan Sekolah, the road leading to the Min Te Chinese Primary School, which is the oldest school of the town.

Roti Bread, cabbage, lentils and cucumber

4. Hot roti bread, pickled cabbage, curry, lentils, and noodles for breakfast. I'm still fascinated by how different breakfasts can be from country to country. The Indian breakfast is one I can't eat when I first wake up, but after a nice, carbo-burning bike ride, it tastes pretty good.

5. Acres of Sime Darby Palm Oil Plantations. I was thinking about McDonald's french fries and the number of franchises around the world and the number of vats that need to be filled with oil, and the recycling of oil and using the oil as fuel and wondering how the palm oil is processed and if could I find some place to take a tour and would we get lost if we started riding through the rows of trees.

6. A small,local fishing village...Mentally confirming why I prefer fresh, deep sea fish rather than local pull-in-a-cat-fish-that's-been-swimming-in-whatever-hasn't-been-property-treated-from-the local factories-and-homes fish.
















7. Pink Flowered Fake Trees -

Ayer Tawar made for a good destination and an interesting ride. 

Barefoot Teaching

Several weeks ago a friend of our next door neighbors told me about a kindergarten taught in English that his children had attended. They were very happy with the school and also indicated he thought the school might just have added a middle/high school. My ears picked up because....just maybe....this school might like a native-speaking volunteer. After having lived in Lumut for just over 2 weeks I knew that I needed to find some additional activities to supplement my time here.

I found the most recent resume on my computer and made a few updates, typed up a quick cover letter, and pressed "send." Then I moved on to more mundane and unimportant time fillers: playing Words with Friends, chatting on Facebook, deleting old email rewards from Starbucks and JCPenney (even though we have a Starbucks over here, my "rewards" card doesn't work.)

Exactly six minutes later the phone rang.

Mrs. Jansen?
Yes.
I'm _______. We just received your resume. We're very interested! We can we meet? What is your salary requirement?

I was startled out of my brain-dead "deleting" and sat up straight. I've never gotten this quick of a response from an email, let alone a resume...

Salary? I hadn't given it any thought. As a matter of fact, my CU Business School professors would be so disappointed in me. Long gone were the days when I could convert hourly salaries into annual salaries and give a recruiter an exact "expected" salary.  I'd sent off my resume without much thought about the consequences. I had actually been considering volunteering....

I tried to hide my unpreparedness.

Can we meet next week? We can talk about salary then...

Fast forward a week plus some holidays and we finally connected....

The "interview" consisted of meeting all the principals/owners of the school over a large dinner at a Chinese restaurant. In fact, it was one of the most delicious interviews I've ever had. The conversation was genuine, kind, honest, and compassionate. I knew I would like this school. I said "yes" to a part-time position, afternoons, mostly middle school and high school and one elementary class.

I started on Tuesday, exactly four days later. So far it's been really fun and rekindled my love for teaching. The students are enthusiastic and respectful, and the classes are small,  And, the best part.....no shoes! I never would have believed how nice it is to teach in bare feet, but this is one custom I have already fallen in love with.

An Island Festival "Workshop"

Learning to ask the "right" questions is a skill I'm still developing. A recent ladies excursion planned by "yours truly" is a perfect example. When I casuallly mentioned that I thought there might be a Lantern Making Workshop on Pangkor Island, a short 15 minute ferry ride away from our homes, four women said they would be "up for the adventure." I agreed to make the arrangements.

Several days before the workshop, I searched the internet for detailed festival information and dialed a "for more information please call...."The person on the other end did not speak much English but did hand the phone to someone who did. Explaining that four of my friends and I would like to attend the lantern making workshop, she was thrilled and asked me to SMS the names to her. I also verified the time of 10:30 a.m. (a flyer said a.m. and a brochure said p.m.), and sent our names to the organizers as requested. I was feeling pretty proud of myself for finding something "culturally interesting" for our gang to attend.

One day before the workshop after searching Google  and various tourist maps of the island, I was still unable to locate the venue for the workshop so I again texted my contact.

Me: Where is the temple for the workshop? Should we walk or take a taxi?
Her: It's a folk temple. It's not on any maps. Just take a taxi.
Me: OK

Upon arrival at the island we were bombarded by taxi drivers hoping for work. Still having no idea where the workshop might be and if there would be a taxis available after the workshop, I negotiated a price to hire the driver and his pink van for six hours. (Workshop, lunch, sightseeing, swimming and sunbathing, etc.)

We hopped in and gave the driver directions for our first two stops. 1. Dutch Fort (We had a little time to kills before the workshop) 2. Chinese Temple (where workshop is located). I even proudly produced a flyer about the festival to show him where to go.

Remains of Dutch Fort - Tin was stored here before it was shipped around the world.

The Dutch Fort was interesting and we even had time to purchase some cute little batik bathing suit cover-ups at the tourist hut/gift shop.

The "Temple" where the driver took us was beautiful, ornate, and colorful  with lots of little alcoves/picnic/meditation areas built into the surrounding mountains, and a serene goldfish pond with a whimsical bridge across the center.  I was surprised that an island of this size had such a nice temple.

Definitely worth a visit.

Definitely not the location of the workshop.

I scanned the crowd and used hand motions to ask the lady sweeping the floor in front of the alter. No workshop. I finally spied a bunch of teenagers in matching shirts who appeared to be participating in a festival activity called "The Great Race" - probably modeled after the TV show of the same name. I approached their leader and asked if he knew where a lantern making workshop was taking place. He shook his head no.

Bridge over koi pond at temple.

At this point I remembered that the cute Malaysian girl at the ferry terminal who had given me a flyer had also pointed out a phone number to call if I had questions. I whipped out my phone and dialed....

Me: Hello.
Her: Halo
Me: We're looking for the Lantern Making Workshop. Our taxi driver does not know this temple.
Her: Can you pass the phone to the driver?

After a brief conversation between the two, our driver reached knew where to go. He reached inside the open window of the 1980s era Toyota pink taxi van and grabbed the rope (aka. door handle) to slide open the door. We hopped back in. After a short two minute ride winding through a tiny Chinese neighborhood on a small alley-type street, we arrived at our destination. Motorscooters, bicycles, cars, lots of children and smiling festival organizers greeted us. A covered patio was filled with paper floats that might have been made by children and used for a parade. A nice young man approached.

Him: Halo. Are you here for the workshop?
Me: Yes!
Him: Welcome. There has been a little change in plans. We decided the lanterns would be too difficult for  children to make so we've changed the program to a Chinese musical instrument making demonstration. Please have a seat.

(Darn...this isn't looking good.)

Location of the workshop. It would have been fun to make these animals and walk in a parade.

He motioned us to sit on the concrete floor among about 40 children who were watching an older man speaking in Chinese holding a tiny drum made out of a tuna fish can. The children were giving him their full attention. We sat and tried to give our full attention, but all I could understand from watching was that if I poke two holes on opposite sides of a tuna fish can and run a string through the holes and tie balls on the ends of the string and put a stick through the bottom, I can twist the drum between the palms of my hands and make the balls hit the "drum" and make a noise.

(Definitely not a lantern, not hands-on, and not quite what we had in mind...)

Luckily, the festival organizer sat down beside me with some festival maps and  ideas of places to visit on the island. We quietly exited the "musical demonstration" and found our way to a beach-side restaurant where we enjoyed a delicious lunch of steamed fish and a relaxing swim in the Straits of Malaka.

Relaxing end to a "workshop."

Even though we did not learn to make lanterns, we did have an excuse to get out of our houses. And, I learned some more valuable "foreigner living abroad" life lessons.

1. Ask what age the "workshop" is for.
2. Ask what the word "workshop" means.
3. Ask what we will be "doing."

A Cameron Highland Travel Log

Thanks to the Malaysia Day holiday falling on a Saturday, we had the good fortune to have a two day weekend. Actually, that makes no sense. A weekend IS two days. What I'm saying is that my husband did not have to work his usual six day week. So we joined a van of co-workers headed to Cameron Highlands for some R&R. After four hours of slow driving on windy roads, we were rewarded with lush green forests, magnificent tea plantations, vibrant flowers, fresh strawberries, and....most importantly...cooler, drier air.

Our first stop was for tea at a small plantation. Having never seen tea growing before, I was surprised by the majestic beauty of the plantation. I was also surprised by the large difference in flavor of the various local black teas we sampled.

My husband and I spent the afternoon hiking through the jungle. At first I was excited about the size, density, beautiful, sounds, and lush greeness of our surroundings.
 As we hiked up and down steep hills using branches, roots, and toe holds to make our way through the plants and shrubs I became disoriented from the darkness, the unrecognizable sounds of monkeys, birds, and reptiles and the feeling that every path we crossed we'd just been on before.






 As we walked even deeper into the jungle I let my imagine run amok (another post forthcoming about the Malay word "amok") and spooked myself with the story of an American, Jim Robinson, who walked away from his Cameron Highlands hotel in 1967 never to be seen again. Even experienced jungle trackers couldn't find him. I was thinking about Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness which creeped me out as a senior in high school, and I was wondering if there were poisonous pit vipers and cobras  and wishing I had a pet mongoose from Rudyard Kipling's Riki Tiki Tavi.

Words cannot describe how happy I was, when 2 2/12 hours later we finally stumbled down the mountain and came upon the Sam Poh Temple. Not only was this landmark, Chinese temple a sign of civilization but it is  home to some pretty darn big sitting Buddhas, smiling Buddhas, warrier Buddhas, and happy monks beating drums and burning incense. I felt much better.

By now the clouds had broken loose and started an afternoon monsoon-type deluge. Even that could not dampen my spirits as I was so happy to be literally "out of the darkness."

A walk back to town took us to the Smoke House  Cottage, an elegant, refined Scottish remnant of the early 19th century colonization of Malaysia. (The Boh tea plantation was started and is still owned by a Scottish family.) We were a bit late and a tad under dressed  for afternoon tea. Luckily our jungle-smeared hiking boots and pants only added to the lively conversation with tales of adventure and intrigue all while relishing our civilized, late afternoon drinks.

A "Steamboat" dinner and a stroll though the night market where we bought fresh strawberries and lots of fresh veggies was a delightful end to our first day.

A shower and a good night's sleep were in order. Unfortunately, our hotel room had a tiny hot water heater that needed 30 good minutes to warm up. So....a quick sponge bath to scrape off the jungle mud was all I could handle before falling into bed.

The next day consisted an "Adventure Tour." We quickly realized that, after seeing our Indian tour mates wearing linen trousers and designer sandals, our definitions of "adventure" did not match. So, we relaxed, went with the flow and learned some new things. Our first stop was the Butterfly Garden. (I guess looking at butterflies could be considered an "adventure.") Although the butterflies were big and beautiful,  I think the "A" in adventure was seeing a  6-inch long rhinoceros beetle attack a stalk of bamboo just like a backhoe to a piece of tree and shrub filled land. The caged pit vipers and pop vipers were giving my imagination an "adventure" too.

Later that morning, we did go on a jungle "trek". We learned about some interesting medicinal plants used by the Orange Asli (indigenous people). One plant was for men only and the root looked like a male body part and worked like Viagra. Another looked like female private parts and had the name "something Fatima"  and was used after childbirth. The best plant was" the natural laxative",  a solution to one of the problems with palm oil. Our guide suggested we try the tiny, fast-acting, red berry at home

We learned about the Pitcher Plant, kind of like a Venus Fly Trap I was so fascinated with from junior high school science. Basically the pitcher plant works like this...A fly or mosquito flies into the plant. It gets stuck in the nectar at the bottom but it doesn't die. The rainwater fills the pitcher and must drown the poor little buggers. When the little pouch is full, the lid closes. Then, at night, the monkeys swing down from the trees, pull the little "pitcher" off the plant and drink the protein drink. Yum!

Another stop on our "adventure" was learning how tea is harvested, dried, and packaged at the Boh Tea Plantation. Handpicking produces the best tea, but it's too labor intensive so this giant hedge trimming machine cuts the leaves every 3 weeks and blows the leaves into a giant bag. If these plants are 84 years old and are harvested approximately 17 times per year, that means each plant has been harvested 1486 times. What a cash crop!

We stopped at a hut on the side of the road and bought this bottle of natural honey. The Orange Asli climb trees, cut down the bee hives, and let the honey drip into these bottles. The honey is delicious and like none I've ever tasted before.

Our last and final stop was at the insistence of our driver. He wanted to make sure all the women in the van had a wild orchid to plant in our gardens. So, while holiday traffic was racing home, he parked our van almost off the highway and ran back and forth  delivering our "hand-picked" wild orchids. Of course, our "Adventure" tour guide from earlier in the day would have been appalled by his actions but our "adventure" driver had no qualms about his gift to us. I'll do my best to keep it alive.