Misty highlands, where you can lose yourself In the dense forests of Malaysia’s Cameron Highlands, experiences the cloak of mystery that surrounds the area

Misty highlands, where you can lose yourself

In the dense forests of Malaysia’s Cameron Highlands, experiences the cloak of mystery that surrounds the area

In a few minutes, we will meet Michael Jackson.” I woke up with a start. We were on our way to Cameron Highlands from the incredibly hot Kuala Lumpur. As a finale that was only befitting of the hectic KL leg of our trip, we were asked to check out of our hotel at 8.30am — abnormally early enough to send us journalists into a tizzy. So tired were we that when we eventually managed to check out and troop into the bus, we drew the curtains, kicked off our shoes, adjusted the AC vents and went off to sleep — until our guide’s voice, promising a meeting with the late pop star, crackled on the microphone and woke us up. Cameron Highlands is about 200 kilometers away from Kuala Lumpur. While driving up the long and winding roads, our guide Liza made an interesting suggestion. “Cover your belly button with bandages,” she said, waving a Handiplast. “It might sound funny, but you won’t feel motion sickness,” she continued with a straight face, despite our sniggers and laughs. While this lead to a slew of jokes on how someone new to Indian roads would need to have his entire body plastered, a couple of us turned around in our seats and discreetly sealed our belly buttons. We were not on puking terms yet, we decided. Right before reaching Cameron Highlands, we met a group of aboriginals at their bamboo houses, happy to pose for our cameras. “Look at him,” said Liza, pointing to a man dressed in nothing but a loin cloth. The resemblance was uncanny. It was Jackson himself, minus all the surgeries. This man is even called ‘Michael’ in these quarters. I tried to strike up a conversation with ‘Michael’ — essentially one-sided, since he didn’t understand my questions. He did, however, immediately understand when I said ‘photo’, while pointing to my camera. While he posed like a seasoned professional, it took me three attempts to get a passable picture. “Oh,” he exclaimed when I showed him the picture. We flashed each other the thumbs up sign before departing. The Jim Thompson mystery In terms of attracting Indian tourists, Cameron Highlands might lose out when pitted against the extremely popular Genting Highlands and Malacca. But the hill station is far from being a pristine piece of land waiting to be discovered. Driving up towards Ringlet and passing by vast expanses of tea plantations, I spotted a Marrybrown and even a Starbucks. Aside from a continuous cool breeze, nothing about Cameron Highlands really made me feel like I was at a hill station. The weather so far, had been pleasant but not cold, and the roads were dotted with several well-known restaurants and supermarkets. But, just as we stopped at an Indian Malay restaurant for lunch, dark clouds hovered above us, eclipsing the sun. As the mist started to roll in and a chill set in, it started drizzling, making this the perfect setting for a Shutter Island-like film. We clutched our shawls and jackets tighter and entered the restaurant. It was here, over steaming hot white rice and chapatis, that Liza shared the story of American businessman Jim Thompson, who has been credited with reviving the Thai Silk industry in the 1950s and 60s. In 1967, on Easter Sunday, Thompson went for a walk into the jungle and never returned. This lead to an intensive search operation during which the police combed the forest for any trace of Thompson. But neither he nor his body was ever found. Speculations and theories about Thompson’s puzzling disappearance abound even today — some even wonder whether he planned his own disappearance. The aboriginals have their own theory. “They believe that the spirit of the jungle took Thompson away,” Liza explained. And as if in agreement, at this point the drizzle turned into a furious downpour. Salad bowl of Malaysia Cameron Highlands is popular for its fresh vegetables and fruits, especially strawberries, and has earned the tag ‘the salad bowl of Malaysia’. We stopped at the popular Kea Farm in Tanah Rata. Fresh fruits, vegetables and honey are sold at a cheaper rate here. The people of Cameron Highlands take their strawberries very seriously, as is evident at the Farm’s stalls. Pencils, umbrellas, chopping boards and key chains with pictures of strawberries are sold like hot cakes. At a restaurant in the Farm, even the tablecloths are red in colour. Strawberry juice, strawberries dipped in chocolate, dried strawberries and jams are all on offer. At dusk, we checked into the Strawberry Park hotel. The hotel’s restaurant, Jim Thompson Terrace, overlooked the bungalow where Thompson last stayed before disappearing into the jungle. Throughout dinner, my thoughts kept going back to Thompson and that fateful day. Can we go to the bungalow, I asked Liza. “No. It’s private property now,” she said. Back in my room, I resolved to get up early and go for a walk. The next morning, at around 6.30, I walked within the Park’s premises with no one but the cold breeze for company. I stopped at a spot where I could see the bungalow miles away, on top of a hill. I fished out my camera and zoomed in for a good click. Suddenly a chilly mist descended on me and the lens of my camera fogged up. In spite of several attempts, I felt restrained from getting a good picture of the bungalow. I was perplexed. Where did the mist suddenly come from? What happened to Thompson? Are the aboriginals right in believing in the spirit of the jungle? Shivering, I hurried back to the warm comfort of my room, leaving the breeze and the swirling mist behind.