I woke up with a crazy grin plastered on my face, and my morning mind was beginning to shift it’s gears. I leapt out of the bed, finally breaking it and ran to the bathroom. Around a minute and a half later, I was trying to fit my whole room into my bag. Why? Because today, we were going to Cameron Highlands, along with my friend, Zara who was tagging along and (hopefully) paying some of the fees. My dad, who had watched this whole process unconcerned, tapped on his watch screen and glared at me. I grabbed my bag and shot out of the front door. I felt great. I was dressed in a snug Polo T-shirt, and I had my jacket as backup. We trooped out of the house into the car, and shot out of the guard-house.
After 30 minutes or so, I began to notice we weren’t taking the normal route. Why, I asked. My dad replied with “We are stopping to eat on the way.”. My stomach agreed with a rumble. We crossed the roads over into Bentong, where we pulled up on a bridge. I tumbled out of the car, and started hiking the way to the restaurant. When we arrived, I had been prepared to waltz in and eat to my heart’s desires, but I was greeted by a line. And any normal line I would have been able to deal with. But a kilometer long line full of families of four?! I think not. We stood in that line for a good hour, and at that point I was prepared to die. When we got to the front of the line, the Guard didn’t let us in. Why? Because the restaurant was at full capacity. I almost cried in despair. When the guard finally lifted his baton, I ran in and quickly scanned for a table. When we found one, my dad brang plates full of food.
After we ate, we trekked back to the car and my dad started it. After many long hours and many unexpected changes, we arrived at a tea plantation. I breathed in the cold air, keeping an eye out for smokers. My dad called my friend’s dad, who was nearby. My stomach was already demanding a refill so I took some scones, butter, and jam, and some tea. I buttered up my scones. After a delicious mess, we quickly scrambled into the car and set off for the hotel. We screeched to a halt in front of some nice villas. I asked my dad “Where is the hotel?”. He pointed in front of me. I saw Zara run up the staircase and my mind finally put 2 and 2 together. I hauled my bag out of the car and sprinted up the stairs. I then kicked open the door, and threw off my socks. I dashed to the bedroom and crashed on the bed. I quickly recovered and showered. Luckily, there was hot water. The rest of the night passed uneventfully. I played a couple of games with Zara, and that turned out wrong when her sister forced us to lose. We discussed a lot and nearly laughed to death. When it was around midnight, I slept in my bed, grateful for the natural air conditioner.
The next day, I woke up disoriented, because I thought I was in my own house. Soon, I was trying to find my bookshelf. When I came back to my senses, I rushed to the bathroom, praying that nobody had been doing a number 2 in there. When the bathroom proved to smell normal, I got out my toothbrush and toothpaste. When I was done, Zara’s sister was up already, so naturally, we joined forces to wake up Zara. When we were all up and ready, my dad and Zara’s dad had already brought back food. I snarfed up my breakfast as I planned the day ahead. I was planning to utilise every single drop of daylight, as we would be leaving early the next day. After eating, we went in the car and headed to one of Cameron’s most famous tourist locations, the BOH tea plantation. My dad was gracious enough to let me roll down the windows to let the cool mountain air inside the car. Zara’s car was tagging along behind us, so occasionally, when we were on a bend, I could catch glimpses of their faces. When we arrived, we parked in a tiny community parking area, and I dashed on to meet Zara. We walked to the long, winding staircase that led to the cafe, and I nearly fainted with terror. Around a thousand steps stood between me and those delicious ginger-bread cookies. With the thought of pastry heaven to console me, I began hiking. With each step my lungs emptied and my legs felt like hell, but I kept at it. When I finally reached the top, I yelled “WHO MADE IT TO THE TOP?!!”, scaring away a flock of pigeons and alarming a crowd of old ladies. Zara quickly looked away pretending that I was a complete stranger, and my dad took no notice. We climbed into the shop, which was open air, and I sidled over to the counter. Zara chose a platter of macarons, and I picked out a gingerbread man cookie. Unfortunately, my cookie tasted of rotten fish, and I was glaring in jealousy at the shimmering pile of macarons. When we were finished, Zara remembered that there was supposedly an ice cream truck. We took many twists and turns, and just as we were about to consider the truck was shut, I spotted a truck with the word ‘GELATO’ emblazoned on the side. I pointed it out, and a minute later I was helping myself to a Chocolate Deluxe. We climbed down the infinite stairs, and climbed back in the car. We drove all the way to a strawberry farm, me sticking my head out of the window like a pug all the while. When we arrived, we had to wedge our car between the sidewalk and another car. Zara arrived a few moments later, and we walked into the farm. We met a nice guy who gave us a basket and a pair of scissors. We stumbled into the maze of crops. I was keeping an eye out for fresh ripe ones that would be tasty. A kilogram of strawberries later, we were headed toward a restaurant. We wanted to experience the “Cameron Steamboat” ourselves. After finding an overpriced restaurant steamboat buffet, we piled crabstick over meatball into the simmering pot. Once we were done eating, my T-shirt had more food stains than the other t-shirt, just like my dad. We went back into the hotel, and after a quick shower and a doughnut, I talked with my friend, and it was midnight when I rested again. ‘