A few hours of watching the precipitous rainforest-clad mountain slopes of Malaysia fade in and out of view made the journey from Penang to the Cameron Highlands one of the most beautiful yet. We battled sleep to glimpse through the constantly reconfiguring cottony fabric of the clouds to the slopes below and listened to the gasps from the bus goers when a view appeared. Arriving in the small mountain town of Tanah Rata, which was cold and miserable under the weight of an unyielding watery shroud, we fought through the rain, found our hostel and got settled into our very comfortable room.
The Cameron Highlands were named after William Cameron, a British explorer and geologist who was commissioned to map the area in 1885. After describing the mountainous geography in his report, it was thought the area could be used for a beautiful backdrop for sanatoriums/health spas catering to the colonial elite, however, nothing of the sort came to fruition. That was until the 1920s when the British realised that tea could be grown in the fresh Malay mountain air. Now, the promise of tea makes British people do crazy things. For example:
- Tea would make you go around to Janet’s house despite the fact you despise Janet and her unashamed support of UKIP only because she said she’d put the kettle on.
- In the late 1700s, tea inspired our tiny rainy nation to destroy millions of lives across the world for more than a century. I know what you’re thinking, how could Janet so openly support UKIP and still have some semblance of self-worth? But focus. This is just a snippet of our history that goes someway to explain why Janet’s opinions of national superiority and self-interest are so closely tied to the tea she’s offering to make you. At first glance/sip British people hated tea, it was a gross foreign concoction brought over by Dutch merchants from China. However, when a Portuguese princess (Catherine of Braganza) set sail to marry Charles II in 1662, she literally got off the boat and asked for a cup of tea. She loved the stuff. Fashionable society quickly followed suit and soon all the posh Brits were demanding tea at every gathering. So, in the late 18thand early 19thcenturies the British were buying enough tea from China to keep your Nan in business for millennia. Unfortunately, China, (being the sneaky economically adept nation that they were), didn’t want any of the stuff we were producing. This didn’t sit well with the economists of Britain. And so, as they sipped on their tea, made from a leaf that was literally bankrupting the largest empire ever seen, an idea was hatched. “Hey, why not use this dirty great empire to make something the Chinese do want?” asked one economist, absentmindedly pulling at the thread of his trouser pocket. The other was intrigued, he took a long drag on his cigar and gazed around the oak panelled room, shifting in his chair slightly as he suggested, “How about we make their favourite medicinal drug so accessible that they can’t help but have a little, absurdly addictive, recreational taste? The only question is who would grow all the opium for us?” Without much thought, the reply rolled off his colleague’s tongue with ease, “Let’s use the subjugated people of the empire, whose lives have been devalued to the level of livestock and force them to grow it. Aaaand in return we give them… nothing?” With nothing more than a nod of the head and another sip of tea he replied, “Seems fair”. And thus, the East India Company (the governmentally endorsed company/professional colonisers who accounted for half of the world’s trade) sought to make a fortune from the new dastardly plot. First though, they needed a new slice of land to set up their villainous tea-focussed lair. In 1757 they decided on the Indian subcontinent, destroyed a whole load of Indian armies and took Bengal. At the time, Bengal was the proto-industrial ship building and textile capital of the world (making it worth an insane 12% of the world’s GDP). However, such was the East India Company’s power that their army was at one point twice the size of the British army and the territories in their control were exempt from the Slavery Abolition Act of 1833 because they had been given the autonomy to self-govern and therefore regulate their use of slaves. So within 15 years, the paradisiacal and prosperous land of Bengal was deindustrialised, opium was grown instead of food and up to ten million Bengalis starved to death (almost double the number of Jews killed in Nazi Germany). This blood tinged opium was being shipped by the boat load to China causing one in three Chinese adults to become opium addicts by the mid 1800s buuuuut Britain was making stacks on stacks on stacks so I guess who cared?
Turns out the Chinese Emperor cared, he caught wind of the influx of opium and protested that it was causing millions of addicts countrywide. So, in 1839 he seized 20,000 chests of the drug from the free trade port of Canton. Finding this an impolite response to all the lovely drugs we were sending them, and being a country where politeness is held in a similarly high regard to smalltalk about the weather, we were forced to teach them a lesson in common courtesy. We sent a small contingent of the navy to China and defeated them (which can’t have been hard with superior naval technology and a fighting force not completely off their face on opium). As a result, China was forced to pay for the cost of the war, they had to open all ports to trade (i.e. opium) and also give us the islands of Hong Kong as a fun compensation bonus. Humiliation, land theft and governmentally designed systematic dismantling of a country through substance abuse is, as we all know, the only way to settle an international relations dispute. Then, during a cheeky Chinese rebellion in 1850 which killed 30 million people, Britain and France (the immortal semi-enemies, semi “let’s run away and ruin the world together” pals) decided to take advantage of the chaos and got involved. This extra pressure from the West forced the Emperor to legalise opium. So, the drug flood gates opened in China and their incredible, rich and ancient civilisation was practically brought to its knees. Meanwhile, those tea drinking toffs back in their leather arm chairs decided that relying on China for tea was a hassle, why not just grow it in India, somewhere we control? Unfortunately, the tea we found growing wild in India’s Assam region tasted awful. What they needed was some of the Chinese tea plants and the knowledge on how to grow them. To the East India Company’s annoyance, China was all secretive about the cultivation of one of their largest exports, which I guess they needed to rekindle their dwindling economy blah blah blah. As you may imagine Britain didn’t care about that, instead they cared about finding a thief. A tea thief. Robert Fortune was his name and tea stealing was his game. After a daring mission, wearing disguises and seeing seldom visited parts of China, the Scotsman sent back tonnes of plants and essential knowledge on the cultivation of tea. From this point on, China no longer had a monopoly on tasty tea. Back in India, tea plantations swept the country and who better to grow and pick the tea than the already starving men, women and children of the once great region of Bengal? Forced into slavery, moved to Assam and worked to death; India was being ravaged. All the while, the men and women of Britain could rest easy with a warming brew, blissfully unaware (or aggressively indifferent) to the fact that Britain had committed genocide and become the biggest drug dealer the world had ever known. In fact, by 1906 the opium epidemic was still rampant with 23.3% of adult male Chinese population addicted to opium and all so Brits could get some glorified hot leaf water. Mate, have you tried Fanta? It’s much nicer.
Luckily, the Malaysia situation wasn’t quite as bad. The tea mania only went as far as a 1930s spending spree to clear rainforest, build roads and set up tea plantations in the Cameron Highlands. They didn’t have to start any wars, cause any famines by forcing people to grow drugs instead of food, in fact, the biggest problem they had was that mosquitos loved giving people malaria. So, there’s my lesson to you, don’t get in the way of a Brit and their tea. We no longer have the shameful might of the Empire to manipulate the world by force, but we do have scathing sarcasm and passive aggressive tuts to emotionally wound the pride of all foes.
Threatening wild animals with electronics
The main reason we had come to the Cameron Highlands was to do some hiking in the mountains where the temperatures were significantly more bearable than the rest of South East Asia. So, after gathering some information about the best trails we decided on trail ten to the top and trail six down. We got up early in the morning knowing that the first trail was uphill. Once on the outskirts of Tanah Rata we started climbing through the thick rainforest which was dismantling the clouds that dragged lazily through the canopy. The mossy forest was impenetrable except for our path which would’ve been a mudslide if it weren’t for the natural ladder the forest had provided. Each tree root was a gnarled rung to which we heaved our bodyweight up for every step. This steep ascent meant that by the top, finally emerging from the dark constricting tangle of trees into daylight, we were sweating up a storm. So, we had a break under a large pylon, stuffed chocolate in our faces and looked down on the town which was obscured by the hazy air. Further away was the next step of our hike, the tea plantations. They were distinguishable from a distance due to the smooth light green hue of the bushes contrasting to the dark green afro sprawl of the forest.
Once the chocolate sugar buzz had hit, we descended Gunung Jasar and followed a very overgrown footpath into the valley. Finally, joining a well-kept path, we no longer had to worry about being physically assaulted by long grass and walked towards a small village on the edge of the mountain. The village housed the tea workers and soon we were walking through the plantation which was a maze-like network of tea bushes which hugged the undulating forms of the hills around us. Finally, we reached the tea house which had beautiful views over the area. They didn’t have Fanta so I settled for tea from the very fields we had been walking through which wasn’t the worst compromise. We walked back along the road in the pouring rain but the day had been a success and no amount of freezing cold rain could change that.
Having enjoyed the first hike so much and with the arrival of the Dutch girls we had met in Georgetown, we decided to extend our stay and squeeze in another hike. This time it would be a more challenging one to the top of Gunung Berembun with the girls and their Thai friend. The first 800m or so through the town went without a hitch but as soon as we turned onto the start of the trail there were a lot of dogs. Feeling a kinship with the Baha Men for the first time in my life, I put the inevitable question to the back of my head and tried to work out how to avoid the snarling creatures. Their less than friendly welcome to the trail was clear so we tried to shimmy along the slippery path as quickly as possible. However, with a sly dividing manoeuvre the dogs got in the middle of the group, we fended them off from behind with my brick-like speaker but the two that got left behind were less lucky and got chased into town by this pack of dogs. So, three of us continued up the mountain because going back for our comrades through the dogs was not an option. The climb was equally beautiful but this time the forest didn’t give way for views at the top. We ran down the mountain, my Mr Tumnus legs leaping into top gear, and grabbed celebratory survival cake as the two that got left behind regaled us with their story of being trapped in a shop for an hour by the dogs.
Tried and tested ‘James Diet‘
Georgetown, is undoubtedly one of the best food cities in the world (and therefore a tough act to follow) but for a small mountain town, Tanah Rata gave us just what we needed to keep the engines firing on all cylinders.
In the mornings before a hike you need to wake up quickly, and being the counterculture visionaries that we are, we don’t drink coffee, therefore sugar was essential. Teaming up with pure sugar for the breakfast of kings had to be ye old faithful carbohydrates. The fact that they are essential for any strenuous physical activity combined with the fact that you can eat a salad bowl full of them without anyone batting an eyelid (despite it just being sugar in fancy dress) means it is the perfect second ingredient for pre-hiking food. The topping on the dual sugar cake is (you guessed it) more sugar. This time in the form of a banana. Fructose (everyone’s favourite healthy sugar) joins forces with the others for that invigorating buzz, while the potassium and various vitamins do some biologically beneficial things (that’s the kind of insight you get from doing a science degree). This all amounted to Roti Pisang, which were freshly cooked, sweet, folded banana pancakes for some absurdly cheap price.
When a few Roti Pisang wasn’t quite enough, Nasi Lemak was the star of the show. It’s the national dish of Malaysia and the standard breakfast meal for many local people. It’s simply coconut rice with various sides that you could choose, for example: curry, peanuts, boiled egg, cucumber, anchovies and chilli sauce (sambal). A tasty selection of energy giving food.
Moving through the day we reach the evening where, surprise surprise, it was curry time. We tentatively thanked the British Empire that allowed for the migration of Indians to Malaysia and tucked into a Thali (or two) each. Each thali had different curries, breads and a meat and so after working our way around the food assembly, we would be sufficiently close to a food induced coma to be wheeled home.
Final Thoughts
The Cameron highlands is a magical place where the soupy humidity and searing heat we had become accustomed to was kept at bay beneath the clouds. Among the softly outlined peaks you can enjoy the simple things like wearing jumpers or not having to splay out your almost naked body on your dorm bed (to stop yourself from overheating) much to the horror of all other occupants.
Afterword
“What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one. Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance.” – Neil Postman
Huxley wrote “A Brave New World” almost 100 years ago and his ideas ring true now more than ever. People are consumed by passivity in the face of overwhelming knowledge at their finger tips (the combined knowledge of the world is available online, that’s available 24/7 folks). Facts are drowned out by irrelevance at every turn, in a world where empirical and objective truth loses impetus every day under the conflated weight of personal opinion and belief. Unfortunately, in these placid conditions of dulled intrigue and multiplied distractions, falsehoods about immigration and empty nostalgia for Empires long gone can spread like wildfire. Despite this bleak introspection on humanity’s propensity for believing any old rubbish that rouses the evolutionary hardwiring of tribe mentality, or the dopamine infused feelings of the good ol’ days, all hope isn’t lost. Forget the fear mongering, what we should be focussed on is the betterment of our societies and to live as harmoniously and equally as we can under our genetically enhanced subterranean lizard overlords. Is that too much to ask? Only time will tell.
Your best yet, James. I didn’t know about the opium
Thank you!
Loved the post, both informative and poignant in these current times.
Thank you! A rare moment of engagement in the things that actually matter in the world before retreating back to where I feel safe, the politically sterile world of anecdotal food writing.