The guys at Daniel’s Lodge tried to get me to make up the numbers on a jungle trek last night, even offering me a discounted price and an extra peak. I was tempted and then decided to go for a long run instead. It was a good call; when I got up the cloud base was just a few hundred feet above Tanah Rata and, thick and grey, it stayed there all day.
I had an incredibly lazy morning reading in three different coffee shops and surfing the internet when I could find a free connection. The first internet connection didn’t arrive in the Cameron Highlands until 1997, when it cost tourists MR30 for half an hour!
Eventually, I got so cold that I had either to go for a run or go back to bed. Just a thirty minute run, I thought as I set off; then I passed the sign for Ringlet, a small town 13 km away. A perfect distance, so I went back to get my water and some money for a taxi back.
It was a good run, mostly down hill, with some parts being quite steep. A Chinese guy gave me a lift back along with two Malay ladies who chattered constantly in the back seat of his mini-van. It was a strained journey. When offering the lift he hadn’t said anything to me at all, just pointed up the hill with his thumb. During the journey I kept trying to think of something to say, to break the ice. The driver was totally silent and the two ladies just ignored him, absorbed in their own, quiet chatter. I don’t like to sit in total silence, as though ‘the cat has got my tongue’, although I am sure that I was the only one finding it embarassing. Despite fifteen minutes of constant effort to come up with something, my mind was completely devoid of anything interesting to say. It was a relief to get out of the van, even though my legs had gone stiff. Running down hill for an extended period of time obviously uses different muscles to normal running.
I had an incredibly lazy morning reading in three different coffee shops and surfing the internet when I could find a free connection. The first internet connection didn’t arrive in the Cameron Highlands until 1997, when it cost tourists MR30 for half an hour!
Eventually, I got so cold that I had either to go for a run or go back to bed. Just a thirty minute run, I thought as I set off; then I passed the sign for Ringlet, a small town 13 km away. A perfect distance, so I went back to get my water and some money for a taxi back.
It was a good run, mostly down hill, with some parts being quite steep. A Chinese guy gave me a lift back along with two Malay ladies who chattered constantly in the back seat of his mini-van. It was a strained journey. When offering the lift he hadn’t said anything to me at all, just pointed up the hill with his thumb. During the journey I kept trying to think of something to say, to break the ice. The driver was totally silent and the two ladies just ignored him, absorbed in their own, quiet chatter. I don’t like to sit in total silence, as though ‘the cat has got my tongue’, although I am sure that I was the only one finding it embarassing. Despite fifteen minutes of constant effort to come up with something, my mind was completely devoid of anything interesting to say. It was a relief to get out of the van, even though my legs had gone stiff. Running down hill for an extended period of time obviously uses different muscles to normal running.
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