Raj Rats and the Delhi Skiers

We took`the dusty road to Bikaner which straddles the Great Thar desert not far from`the Pakistani border, another hair raising drive with our newly married driver Bobby spending much of the time on his mobile to his bride. How there is not more road rage or fatal crashes remains one of the mysteries of the orient but we eventually arrived at the extraordinary Karni Mata temple at Deshnok which honours rats. Many of the residents believe they will be reincarnated as rats - hence they bring food for them.

We declined to remove our shoes and were thus barred from entering the Temple - shame! Your intrepid travellers have ascended the Himalayas, run the gauntlet of the Indian Army in Kashmir, survived the traffic,`the food and the beggar molestation. But rats were an experience too far, ashamed as we were that local pilgrims appeared to show no fear or loathing.

Bikaner turned out to be a dusty outpost of Rajasthan, much favoured by camels and their drivers. Our modern hotel was on the outskirts of town, overlooking a gypsy encampment which`was totally subsumed in a dust storm, rapidly followed by`the tropical storm of biblical proportions. We felt really sorry for these poor people and their goats.

Bikaner's Fort was, for once, not sited on top of a hill and easily accessible to aged limbs. It appeared that the old Maharaja slept on a low lying bed because a previous incumbent had been attacked by kidnappers lurking beneath. He also had a mirrored ceiling in his summer bedroom so that he could spy anyone approaching. The interesting museum contained the usual fearsome weaponry but also a First World War De Havilland aircraft which was awarded to the Maharaja for his support during the conflict. There are only two remaining aircraft of this type and by coincidence we saw the other one in Peter Jackson's museum in Blenheim, New Zealand.

On to Mandawa, another dusty outpost of the Raj empire and a potentially pretty town with wonderfully decorated havelis. Again the roads were terrible with Bobby explaining that every year the monsoon destroyed the newly macadamed surfaces because local contractors were corrupt and used unsuitable materials.

We were befriended by an 18-year-old called Arun who led us to the local internet shop, bought us tea and then gave us a wonderful guided tour of the town. He even paid for a visit to the oldest haveli. "Would you like to meet my father who also speaks good English,"`he asked all innocent. "We'd love to," we said. And that's how we came to buy another painting - it was the subtlest of commercial seductions - quite brilliant in fact - and although we felt like suckers it was almost worth it. We now possess a rather beautiful miniature of a polo match, on ancient sanskrit paper, painted by Mr Shyam Singh.

Our own haveli was quite beautiful, too. But, sadly, the bed was uncomfortable and the food indescribably awful. Many Indians cannot get their heads around non vegetarian food and are also unhappy about serving alcohol. Perhaps they have witnessed the average Saturday night in England with its attendant problems.

To Delhi again and the need to become SKIers. Not that Delhi has suffered an influx of snow. Merely the fact that we felt like a hotel upgrade to recover our strength and to be truly comfortable for the final three nights. Spending the Kids' Inheritance seemed the only way out as we booked into the five star Park Hotel in Connaught Place.

The hotel manager informed us that he was sold out on the third night and that we would have to move out. But our travel agent Javed advised that as possession was 99 points of the law we would have no problem. Javed who revealed that India would remain a third world country while the principal occupation was corruption turned out to be right. Indeed it is hard to imagine how Delhi and Jaipur will be ready for the 2010 Commonwealth Games as construction of the Metro and other key developments appear way behind schedule.

India was awesome in so many ways but, as one friend put it, more of an experience than a vacation. As Colin read Barak Obama's memoirs beside the Park's swimming pool he was struck by how many Indians came up to discuss how wonderful the new occupant of the White House is and how much`hope he was giving the Third World. It was a Kennedy Moment, redolent of the early 1960s when the young and handsome JFK assumed the Presidency, giving so much inspiration to the West. There seems to be a genuine feeling that Obama, as a man of colour, can relate to the rest of the world in a manner that his immediate predecessors, especially George W, simply couldn't aspire to.

So many Indians fell into step with us trying to offer genuine advice and help - astonished that we had risked life and limb in Kashmir. They are a lovely, non-violent people with the total absence of road rage, in the face of truly appalling driving habits, a perfect example. We were distressed by some of the poverty and ill treatment of animals but retain affection for the country.

Nevertheless it was wonderful to get home, to a remarkably clean London, after a very smooth Virgin flight (and yes we indulged in a little upgrade). Our own little Bobbie (a 20-year-old Jack Russell bitch) had survived our absence and was in remarkable health, having been looked after magnificently by a raft of friends and family. Clearly change was as good as a rest for her. It will be wonderful to see our children, Cate, Tara, Georgia, Helen and Kate plus grandchildren William, Natasha and Purdy again. Purdy, aged seven months, had just returned from Hollywood where Dad Richard is in a new TV series. How she's changed.

And the best news of all was reserved for our return when we learned that Helen became engaged to Simon on the last leg of their four week holiday in Malaysia, Thailand and Lao. This Friday they came round to celebrate with champagne that tasted so good after the constant beer of India. 2010 will be weddings , weddings and weddings!

utopian udaipur and jodhpur jollies

Udaipur has been described as India's most romantic destination but the paucity of rain - the last monsoon failed - has left much of the lake bare and its premier hotel the Lake Palace showing a rather dirty underskirt. Indeed the other top hotel, the five star Oberoi, now finds itself a mile from the lake shore while it is undergoing refurbishment.

Despite the smell of cows Udaipur was lovely to wander round and we spoke to several shopkeepers - many from Kashmir. Guess what? Their goods are a lot cheaper than they were in Kashmir - we were had again - and a vast number of Kashmiris are descending on Birmingham's NEC next week to exhibit their wares at even cheaper prices. One is even exhibiting in the V & A in London. All are very excited.

We visited the City Palace in the company of a guide where the young Prince was supervising arrangements for a big dinner and foundation awards ceremony to be held that night - rather like the Prince Charles Trust. It commemorated a young wet nurse who sacrificed her own baby in 1535 to save the life of the Crown Prince from marauding Moguls to ensure the unbroken line of the Mewar Dynasty. Sacrifice and devotion to duty is the byeword.

We saw the Maharaja's Classsic and vintage car collection which included the Rolls Royce used in the James Bond movie Octopussy which featured the Lake Palace hotel. We managed to avoid the restaurant which showed the movie every night during dinner! Pity the staff who must know the script off by heart.

We continue to feel sympathy for the cows who may be regarded as holy but are terrorised by cars, trishaws and the like and scavenge for their food. They are lame, underfed and look in terrible shape alongside the dogs. We have seen a few of the faithful purchasing fresh greens to feed them but they could with a lot more nourishment and respect.

We continue to be puzzled by India's lack of equality which extends even to tourists who have to pay 750 rupees to enter the Taj Mahal, for example, while the natives pay only 20 rupees. This applies to many of their tourist monuments. Surely India is not now so poor that the tourist has to be fleeced at every turn. There is even a general lack of respect for women. Colin is always spoken to first and served first. Imagine their shock when Linda produces the moolah to pay for their goods and services and even has control of the passports.


To Jodhpur, the home of the famous breeches designed by Sir Patrap Singh for hunting and polo, a garment which caught on when he wore them in Britain. This is the Blue City where many of the houses are painted indigo as a coolant and insect repellent. It is home to the Meherangarh Fort which is the most impressive we have visited to date and features the best audio guide to boot. There are interviews with the present royals and, judging by his accent, we think the Crown Prince may have been educated at Eton. The family are all involved in the Fort Foundation while Granny was able to describe life in Purdah which continued until the 1960s.

At the second entrance gate you walk past the concrete imprint of 14 sets of hands belonging to the widows and concubines of Maharaja Man Singh who, following his death in 1843, threw themselves on his funeral pyre as an act of Sati. It is sobering to think that this practice continued until the Indian Government banned it in 1847 following the insistence of Queen Victoria (she wasn't all bad). But as recently as 1987 there were cases of Sati in parts of India.

The Maharaja of Jodhpur and his family now live in the splendid Umaid Bhawan Palace constructed between 1929 and 1944 by English architects employing 3,000 men. The art deco furniture was supplied by Maples of London but was lost at sea during the War. Now the palace is part museum, part hotel and part home. Quite magnificent.

After all this driving across bumpy, dusty and hazardous roads we felt we would give Jaisalmeer and its deserts and camels a swerve in favour of some pampering at the five star Ajit Bhawan hotel, another converted palace and previous home to the present Maharaja's brother. It has five star bathrooms and a sensational swimming pool plus wonderful staff. What more could we weary travellers want? We have been staying in some charming havelis which are converted merchants' houses. Almost all have spectacular rooftop restaurants. Happily everything is ground level here and more importantly - everything works. Back to the pool....

Pushkar Prohibition and Bundi's Bounties

Pushkar is the home of the Indian God Brahma and the only temple in India dedicated to this fellow. Without meaning offence I hope he was teetotal and vegetarian because he would have suffered for the last umpteen millenia otherwise. You can't even get an omelette let alone a quick half.





We duly went to pay our respects at the ghat on the lake where locals worship Brahma only to be informed that it would cost a minimum 500 rupees to get a receipt for our generosity. We gave 200 rupees and the fellow calmly pocketed the money without a "By your leave" or a receipt. One of the strange anomalies of India.





Pushkar is famous for its annual camel fair which takes place in November. Some 200,000 of these smelly beasts of burden are traded and it is quite a sight apparently. In March very little happens except for the fact that the Holi Festival was about to be observed as we left. There were bonfires and fireworks the night before, about the most exciting thing that happened. We were offered a contraband beer in the Ali Baba rooftop cafe which was peopled by a pool table and hippies. A sign on the wall said that cannabis smoking was prohibited but it didn't seem that way. We had a Seven Up and left. Even public displays of affection are banned by order of the police - some place Pushkar.





To Bundi and a nightmare journey occasioned by the celebration of Holi which designates the end of Winter and beginning of Spring. People throw coloured powders and water over one another. It is apparently fair game for gangs of youths to pretend they are Dick Turpin, placing large rocks across the road and refusing to allow the free flow of traffic until the drivers have volunteered some rupees. In one village this happened no fewer than five times. Eventually our driver Bobby gathered his courage and ran the gauntlet of one gang only to have his car pelted with blue and red paint. Even the road toll operators took a little extra because of Holi! The only bonus was the evident lack of traffic - those in the know stay at home.





In Bundi we were confronted by a sea of people a lighter shade of purple as all the colours had mingled together. We checked into a delightful boutique haveli (former private house) called Bundi Villas which had been recently featured in the Sunday Times. It was run by a charming young Indian called Arun Sharma who was also a guide round the Palace and very knowledgable to boot. Needing a siesta after climbing several hundred feet up to the Palace we were suddenly awaked by the door to our room flying open. A large Rhesus monkey sprang across the room and tried to exit through our window. Linda almost hit the ceiling in shock while the monkey did a quick about turn and exited whence he came - to our great relief. Doors locked henceforth and there was no surprise to see Arun weilding a pistol and large stick when we had our rooftop breakfast in the morning. Another monkey had tried to steal a banana being eaten by a French couple minutes earlier!





Bundi is small and quite sweet with most houses painted indigo blue. It has its own school of art and we were sorely tempted to buy. The Palace has only been recently reopened and has the most exotic and erotic works of art using the natural Bundi mineral paints (largely greens and blues) . The old Maharaja was quite a fellow by all accounts. According to Arun the present incumbent who lives in Delhi is contrastingly modest and often mistaken for a tourist when he visits. Last year Arun showed Mick Jagger around - but didn't know who he was until afterwards! He asked who was the richer, most popular or famous - Jagger or Prince Charles. We couldn't decide.

We visited the small lakeside palace called the Sukh Mahal, just outside Bundi, where Rudyard Kipling wrote part of Kim. Sadly the building was closed and rather in need of a lick of paint. But it was easy to see how Kipling could be inspired by the peace and beauty of the view of the lake and its surrounding mountains.





Colin is missing the start of the Cheltenham Festival but, having seen some of the results, is quite glad not to have taken a financial interest. Being in India, though, it is quite possible we might have backed the new Champion Hurdler Punjabi at 22-1. That's a pipedream now.

Taj and Raj

To Agra, the home of the magnificent Taj Mahal, tomb of Mumtaz Mahal - no not the celebrated Irish five furlong speedster and record holder of the 1930s owned by the late Aga Khan - but Emperor Shah Jahan's second wife and beloved mother of 14. He was later buried along side her in 1666. The exquisite mausoleum took 22 years to build (20,000 workmen) costing the equivalent of 100 million pounds. The marble inlay work is astonishing in its detail and magnificence. We got our first glimpse watching it from the other side of the Yamuna river as the colour changed dramatically from white to pink.

The following morning we arose at 6am to get our dawn view of this ninth wonder of the world. Our driver Bobby (with us for 21 days in Rajasthan) went mysteriously missing and left us to the devices of a tour guide. He was knowledgeable but not necessary and cost less than he had hoped for as a result. He also dragged us to marble inlay craftsmen and jewellers - "It costs nothing to look" he claimed. This time it didn't.

India is a place of enormous contrasts. Close by the majesty of the Taj Mahal you will see lame, mangy and feral dogs, wild pigs and cattle all foraging for the same street detritus. Nearby there will be mothers and babies begging piteously. Once you have given to one you will be surrounded by a host of others. It is deeply disturbing and upsetting.

To our 20-day tour of Rajasthan beginning with the Keoladeo Ghana National Park, a wonderful bird park which was formerly a duck shooting reserve made for Maharaja Suraj Mahal in the 1850s. It was contrastingly peaceful and calm, even though, we were told, Lord Linlithgow had shot 2,000 ducks in one day there in 1938 while Viceroy of India! Our excellent cycle rickshaw wallah Mr Singh turned out to be very knowledgeable and pointed out 45 different species of birds including an eagle, plus the surprise of three jackals and a turtle. After the hustle and bustle of Agra and Delhi this was manna from heaven. The only downside was that we had to change hotels from a fly ridden hovel to a superior grade. Bollocking for tour operator.

To Ranthambhore National Park in search of tigers. We took two tours (morning and afternoon) and saw much game but, sadly, not a tiger. We were informed that we were very lucky to see a total of three leopards, until we learned that our guide had cheated a little by "finding" their regular haunt in a cave just outside the town. Because leopards are frightened of tigers they scavenge in the town at night. We stayed in a lovely hotel - but unfortunately the parents of an 18-year-old also thought it was a perfect venue for his birthday party resulting in a midnight disco that must have frightened the tigers!

Jaipur by bumpy roads, confronting head on traffic on dual carriageways, wandering cows and camel-drawn carts - the lot. Luckily Bobby - complete with loud horn which is the favoured extra of the Indian driver - steered us safely through. After a much needed haircut (three pounds including a head and back massage for Colin) we visited the City Palace which is still lived in by the Maharaja of Jaipur and his family. The previous incumbent died of a heart attack playing polo at Smith's Lawn, Windsor, in 1970 - an event Colin remembered.

Everything in Jaipur is pink as the result of the visit of the Prince of Wales in 1876 as the then Maharaja believed it to be a sign of welcome. Today residents are compelled by law to repaint their houses annually - although it looks more coral than pink. That evening we found an Italian restaurant on a nearby rooftop to our hotel. It lacked a licqor licence but got round this by serving beer in a teapot! Rather warm and unappealing, to be honest.

Next day we visited the Amber Fort, 11k outside Jaipur. We took an elephant ride up to the imposing edifice sited on a massive hill, resembling the Maharaja and Maharani of Ealing. After exploring it for two hours in 40 degrees of heat we thought we would see how the other half live by slinking off to the Polo Bar in the Rambagh Palace hotel, part of the Raj group, and set in 19 peaceful hectares where the Maharani Mother still resides in the grounds. Marvellous moustachioed and turbaned staff, charm itself, dating from another era served the Ealing Memsahib a gin and tonic while the Sahib relied on Kingfisher beer to slake his thirst. "It doesn't cost anything to look," we thought to ourselves. Well only 1500 rupees (21 pounds)!

By huge contrast we drove on to Pushkar, a bewitching Hindu pilgrim town noted for its religious mores and alcohol free ambience. (Whose idea was this - Ed). It boasts hundreds of temples - Colin is planning to visit every single one. Indiana Jones is in our wake tomorrow.

Delhi drivers and Kashmir cash crisis

To Delhi and another wonderful flight from Singapore Airlines who get our star award. Spent an informative and entertaining five hours at Changi airport, going to all three terminals via the Skytrain and marvelling at the entertainment, shopping possibilities and even the food court where we had chicken and rice for less than five pounds each.

Delhi was a culture shock with the taxi driver qualifying for the world's worst driver award within five minutes of leaving the airport - sadly the Prince Polonia hotel, recommended by Lonely Planet, was no better - dirty sheets etc and not ready for us even at midnight when we arrived! Bad start. But we soon fetched up at our travel company where Javed put us in a nice little boutique hotel and fixed up our trip round Rajasthan. Only problem was he recommended the chance of a lifetime - four days in Kashmir including flight to Srinagar - "It's very peaceful now, sir". Er, no.

But before we flew to the Himalayas we had a wonderful lunch with Edmo, an old colleague of Colin's, whose wife Alex is Sky's Asia correspondent and recently won the Royal Television Society's reporter of the year award. All this and four children to manage!

Edmo himself declined Colin's offer of tennis on the very reasonable grounds that he had had an operation two days earlier. But he managed to host a great lunch at Punjabi By Nature - great food . Hopefully Alex won't be busy when we return to Delhi and we can return the favour. Edmo has taken to life as a Maharajah with surprising aplomb. Even the guard of his sumptuous home looks like Jaws from James Bond!

On arrival at Srinagar there was a plentiful supply of army presence at the airport and even more in the town. We should have been suspicious when we were body searched four times before leaving Indira Ghandi airport and had to identify our luggage before boarding. India is in the throes of post Mumbai security alerts.

The boss of of the Swan houseboat on Dal lake where we were due to live for the next four nights said we would have the most memorable stay of our time in India - and he was right for the wrong reasons. We had been told it was 20 degrees but it never rose above 14 degrees during sunny days and there was a biting frost every night. The houseboat was unheated and damp, save for parafin heaters and we were stranded in the middle of the lake at the mercy of the shikara wallah (the boatman). We were persuaded (forced) to have four tours including trekking twice in the Himalayas (Colin with a strained thigh from the Cameron Highlands and Linda with a bad knee) to keep us out of the town which was the subject of an army curfew. We couldn't return before 4.30pm having set out before 8am.

The Himalayas were stunning and gorgeous although our guide's driving was similar to that of our Delhi taxi driver. We negotiated with him not be on his mobile the whole time as he steered us round hairpin bends on a steep, rutted single track path up the side of a sheer mountain. Every night we were sitting ducks in the houseboat as various carpet, jewellery and spice salesmen peddled their wares. "It doesn't cost anything to look sir," they began. We developed a hostage mentality and felt quite molested. We met two other Englishmen on the second day, a silversmith from Birmingham called Stephen and a goldsmith named David from Bromsgrove who had similar feelings to us. But the British sense of humour won the day, even if we have more booty from Kashmir than we intended. As Colin remarked to Linda who wanted to abort our second mountain venture "Is this the spirit that won the empire?"

During the first trek we had some five hours to kill before we were allowed back into Srinagar (due to the curfew) and were entertained in a mountain guide's family home. The wife prepared chapatis and delicious Kashmiri tea (including cardomon, saffron and honey) on an open wood fire inside the house. Her three small children (one at the breast) played around her while her husband tried to persuade us to use his ponies. Sadly we weren't up to that. Seeing the poverty and receiving their hospitality was quite humbling.

The Kashmiri people would love to be independent from both India and Pakistan who have been fighting over their bodies for 40 years. There are 600,000 Indian troops in the area and daily you are made aware of it. On our return we had our bags and bodies searched again no fewer than four times at the airport (by the army) but they only found three safety pins on Linda to confiscate. The people are lovely but poor and desperately need tourism. Neither Pakistan nor the Indian army are doing them any favours. We wouldn't recommend a houseboat and it's best to go in the summer when the flowers and water lilies are at their best. Never did we imagine we would be grateful to see Delhi and feel the heat again. Bliss.

Malaysian Memories

As we prepare to leave Malaysia, with its gentle people, afternoon thunder storms and its warmth it will be sad to leave behind Alex and her fiance Craig who have smothered us with generous hospitality and have expertly managed our tours. They live in the KL suburb of Taman Desa in a condominion with a wonderful swimming pool, tennis and squash courts plus a restaurant and a little shop. They live on the 14th floor with a cracking view of KL.



Our penultimate day was spent enjoying cocktails in the Sky Bar at the top of the Traders Hotel, overlooking the impressive twin Petronas Towers as we bade farewell to daughter Kate who was flying back to the UK. There was a massive thunder and lightning storm which lit up the Towers as if they were giant Christmas trees. Much ooing and aaing from the females present.



On Sunday (Feb 22) we saw a concert performed by the Malaysian Philarmonic Orchestra under guest conductor, Swedish-born Ola Rudner. The orchestra was formed in 1998 and has many ex-pats among its personnel. They played Handel's Concerto Grosso in C, together with three pieces by Haydn - the Sinfonia Concertante in B Flat, the Notturno No 3 in C and the Symphony No 100 in G ("Military"). Very enjoyable.



One of the great delights of Malaysia has been the cuisine whch is varied and tasty. We paid a second visit on our last night to a Chinese restaurant in town which is as good as any in GB, America or, dare we say, even China - and far cheaper! Mind you China is next on our list of places to go as we prepare to end our 80 days around the world in India.

Penang perambulations, Langkawi layabouts and happy Highanders.

Before our departure for Penang and Lankawi we should mention Chinese New Year which resonates strongly in this part of the world. In KL streets were full of dragon dancers and lions with beautifully dressed women and girls in attendance. Although the New Year was officially in January there were still Chinese lantern festivals all over Malaysia.

We also witnessed a Thaipusan (Hindu) procession en route to the Batu caves. Men with extraordinary spears slicing through their cheeks and out the other side followed exotically dressed women.

Linda, Kate and Alex decided they needed a spruce up prior to the anticipated beach holiday and went for pedicures and nail extravanganzas - the former preceded by dipping feet in a fish tank whose occupants removed all unwanted skin - not for the squeamish, I can tell you. While this was going on Colin lost his unbeaten record on the squash courts to Tim, another PE teacher who was both charming and too talented.

Penang is reached by a 40 minute Air Asia hop. Once the getaway for Malaysia ex-pats it is now very built up but retains plenty of charming and historic Chinese enclaves. The capital Georgetown, where we stayed in the Bay View hotel, is a bustling city with a large Indian population too. We sampled dim sum and curries as we navigated our way round Fort Cornwallis, named after a former Governor General (in India), and other landmarks. Incidentally Cornwallis's statue was missing its sword which had apparently been melted down by the invading Japanese for their war efforts in 1942!

We visited the Khoo Kongsi house, a famous Chinese clan house, partly a temple and partly a meeting house still very much in use. The original 1896 version was burned down (probably arson by a rival clan). This building was recreated in 1906 and is thought to be the finest in south east Asia. There is a family tree of the Khoo clan set amid dragons, carved columns and lanterns. Awesome.

While Colin used the Bay View swimming pool Kate and Linda took a "walking tour" (by rickshaw as it was sooo hot) to Dr Sun Yat Sen's Penang house (he established the modern Republic of China in 1911 from his Penang base following the Cantonese uprising). There will be a conference there to mark the centenary in 2011.

To Langkawi.
Penang was very interesting but after 48 hours we were ready to be beach bums on the lovely island of Langkawi, a two and a half hour ferry trip north of Penang. This is Malaysia's answer to Phuket but without the crowds or the influx of beer-sodden Brits. It has gorgeous, sandy, white beaches with plenty of cover from the sun (around 35 degrees most days). We stayed in Holiday Villas which was experiencing the German towel syndrome to a small extent. In fact we witnessed a very funny scene in which some Germans had laid their towels on sun loungers only to return two hours after breakfast to find them occupied by a Chinese family. You didn't need to be a linguist to discern the tension (the Chinese held their ground, possession being nine tenths of the law).

Alex and her fiance Craig joined us two days later to look at potential wedding venues for their nuptials in April next year. They had researched the Tanjung Rhu beach resort in the north of the island and this gorgeous hotel did not disappoint. The bridal suites alone (there was a choice of three) were bigger than most London flats. The beach and the views were picture postcard perfect - their other options on Ko Lipe and Ko Lanta (two Thai islands) will have to go some to better this choice.

Daughter Helen and her boyfriend Simon (plus curly, uncut hair which elevated him to 6ft 7ins)
joined us for the start of their four week holiday which takes in Lipe, Laos, Vietnam and KL. They took us to a reggae bar they had visited the year before. Noisy, redolent of ganja and thoroughly entertaining!
Holiday Villas food and beverage manager Aslan advised us he was Langkawi's answer to Rafael Nadal so a tennis match with Colin was arranged. Well - he was left handed with a fair serve but Ealing's finest beat him 6-0, 6-0. A return was arranged for Monday but poor Aslan pulled a muscle and had to bow out at 0-2! Just when Colin was feeling big-headed he had a return squash match with Tim in KL and was roundly thrashed again.

Langkawi was great fun and we returned to KL fit and tanned. But Alex decided it was time to play it cool and arranged a visit to the Cameron Highlands, a two and a half hour car drive north of KL, 5,000 ft above sea level. After the humidity and heat of KL this was 23 degree bliss and cool at night. We stayed in an old schoolhouse just outside the main town of Tanah Rata. It was called Bala's holiday chalets, a Tudor style guesthouse with English-style gardens of great charm.
This area is named after William Cameron who mapped the area in 1885 and the area is perfect for the growing of tea, strawberries and vegetables. There are forest trails, many waterfalls and even a village of former headhunters. When one of them appeared driving a locally manufactured Proton car it did somewhat destroy our image of the village!

Alex was up for tea and scones at the Smokehouse- all very English and very twee. The major tea plantation is called Boh but is owned by an English family called Russell who set it up in 1929. We paid a visit and were granted an interesting tour of the facility. How the workers harvest the tea from bushes which are perched on steep hillsides only they can relate. It is now partly mechanised with mini hovercraft skimming the fresh leaves from the top of the bushes every three weeks or so. Extraordinary!

We also visited a strawberry farm only to learn and witness the fact that they are grown three feet above ground in watered compost. No chance for birds or insects to have their wicked way with them. We felt honour bound to purchase some samples - not to mention the delicious jam.
Our jungle trek lasted little more than a hour and a half as part of the advised pathway had been cut off by a landslide of falling trees - not uncommon in these parts. We saw the enchanting Parrit Falls and the occasional monkey and butterfly.

On the return journey 5,000ft down a single, windy road in Alex's brand new (four days old) Myvi (Malay version of a Ford Escort) we encountered an upturned lorry as we navigated a sharp turn. If we had been there 30 seconds earlier Alex's pride and joy might have been history - not to mention this blog!