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Authors: Karen van der Zee
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known a person who got lyrical about
smelly fungi."
She'd got quite
indignant and he had laughed and hugged her, much to the approval of the
Italian mushroom vendors.
"Don't ever
change," he'd said in her ear.
They drove on through
spectacular scenery—green mountains, shaded valleys. The air grew cooler still,
the traffic lighter, the villages smaller. They passed flourishing market
gardens where vegetables and fruit grew lusciously in the cool mountain air. A
resort hotel sprawled on a hilltop. Paradise Mountain Resort, the sign read. It catered to tourists and the well-to-do from KL who needed a
vacation and a respite from the humid tropical weather on the coast, Blake told
her. Beautiful private homes lay half hidden in the greenery on the mountain
slopes.
Half an hour later
they passed through one more small kampung when the pavement
stopped abruptly and changed into a rough track winding further up the
mountain. All she saw around them now was dense jungle hugging the track, ready
to claim it again. The sky was invisible, as the massive trees formed a dense
canopy closing like a cathedral roof over the narrow road.
"How much
longer?" she asked. Jostling around in this vehicle was no pleasure trip.
She held on to the door.
"About twenty
minutes."
"Good Lord, they
live isolated. Don't they get lonely?"
He shrugged. "No.
They're busy people, and they often have university students living with them,
and conservation people. They are no recluses, believe me."
Nicky studied the
jungle all around them, wondering what kind of place it was these people lived
in. Some sort of primitive research camp? No plumbing. Washing in the river.
Kerosene lamps. Cooking over open fires. She'd seen documentaries on
television. Well, it would be an adventure.
"What kind of
place is that house? I don't suppose there's electricity and water?"
"There's a
generator, and they have their own water well. It's quite civilized. You'll
like the place."
Okay, so no washing in
the river and no kerosene lamps. Although it might seem a romantic vision, she
wasn't too sorry to give it up.
Sky, sunlight, open
space appeared in front of them suddenly, and in the middle of it, a large
wooden house built on stilts Malay-style. It had a thatch roof and a veranda on
the front and sides. The forest had made way for a beautiful garden with shade
trees and blooming bushes and plants—a riot of color to please the spirit.
It was magical—like an
oasis of sun and light in the dark forest. Nicky fell in love with the place
instantly.
A gardener was busy
trimming and clipping, and stopped his activities as Blake drove up to the
front of the house. The man smiled and gave a wave of his hand, then went back
to work.
"His name is
Ali," said Blake, "and he's married to Ramyah, the housekeeper."
A slim Malay woman in
a sarong and blue blouse came out of the door and down the veranda steps as
Nicky clambered out of the vehicle. Blake smiled at her and spoke to her
briefly in Malay. Nicky noticed she looked nervous, almost frightened.
Blake made
introductions. Ramyah gave her a shy, polite smile, then turned and quickly
moved back up the stairs.
"Is something
wrong?" Nicky asked Blake.
He frowned. "I
have no idea, but she sure doesn't act like her normal self."
"Did she know we
were coming?"
"Yes. She knew I
was coming, anyway, and there are people here all the time. That's not
it." He shrugged. "I'll see what I can find out, but let's get you
settled first."
They climbed up the
wooden stairs, Blake carrying his suitcase. The door opened straight into a
cool, spacious living room sporting casual rattan furniture chosen for comfort
and an easy-going decor. There was no ceiling and she could see right up into
the thatch-covered rafters. It was a place to feel comfortable in, to live in.
On the far end of the room, large open doors led out onto another part of the
veranda that encircled the house. It had a dramatic view of the forested
mountains all
smelly fungi."
She'd got quite
indignant and he had laughed and hugged her, much to the approval of the
Italian mushroom vendors.
"Don't ever
change," he'd said in her ear.
They drove on through
spectacular scenery—green mountains, shaded valleys. The air grew cooler still,
the traffic lighter, the villages smaller. They passed flourishing market
gardens where vegetables and fruit grew lusciously in the cool mountain air. A
resort hotel sprawled on a hilltop. Paradise Mountain Resort, the sign read. It catered to tourists and the well-to-do from KL who needed a
vacation and a respite from the humid tropical weather on the coast, Blake told
her. Beautiful private homes lay half hidden in the greenery on the mountain
slopes.
Half an hour later
they passed through one more small kampung when the pavement
stopped abruptly and changed into a rough track winding further up the
mountain. All she saw around them now was dense jungle hugging the track, ready
to claim it again. The sky was invisible, as the massive trees formed a dense
canopy closing like a cathedral roof over the narrow road.
"How much
longer?" she asked. Jostling around in this vehicle was no pleasure trip.
She held on to the door.
"About twenty
minutes."
"Good Lord, they
live isolated. Don't they get lonely?"
He shrugged. "No.
They're busy people, and they often have university students living with them,
and conservation people. They are no recluses, believe me."
Nicky studied the
jungle all around them, wondering what kind of place it was these people lived
in. Some sort of primitive research camp? No plumbing. Washing in the river.
Kerosene lamps. Cooking over open fires. She'd seen documentaries on
television. Well, it would be an adventure.
"What kind of
place is that house? I don't suppose there's electricity and water?"
"There's a
generator, and they have their own water well. It's quite civilized. You'll
like the place."
Okay, so no washing in
the river and no kerosene lamps. Although it might seem a romantic vision, she
wasn't too sorry to give it up.
Sky, sunlight, open
space appeared in front of them suddenly, and in the middle of it, a large
wooden house built on stilts Malay-style. It had a thatch roof and a veranda on
the front and sides. The forest had made way for a beautiful garden with shade
trees and blooming bushes and plants—a riot of color to please the spirit.
It was magical—like an
oasis of sun and light in the dark forest. Nicky fell in love with the place
instantly.
A gardener was busy
trimming and clipping, and stopped his activities as Blake drove up to the
front of the house. The man smiled and gave a wave of his hand, then went back
to work.
"His name is
Ali," said Blake, "and he's married to Ramyah, the housekeeper."
A slim Malay woman in
a sarong and blue blouse came out of the door and down the veranda steps as
Nicky clambered out of the vehicle. Blake smiled at her and spoke to her
briefly in Malay. Nicky noticed she looked nervous, almost frightened.
Blake made
introductions. Ramyah gave her a shy, polite smile, then turned and quickly
moved back up the stairs.
"Is something
wrong?" Nicky asked Blake.
He frowned. "I
have no idea, but she sure doesn't act like her normal self."
"Did she know we
were coming?"
"Yes. She knew I
was coming, anyway, and there are people here all the time. That's not
it." He shrugged. "I'll see what I can find out, but let's get you
settled first."
They climbed up the
wooden stairs, Blake carrying his suitcase. The door opened straight into a
cool, spacious living room sporting casual rattan furniture chosen for comfort
and an easy-going decor. There was no ceiling and she could see right up into
the thatch-covered rafters. It was a place to feel comfortable in, to live in.
On the far end of the room, large open doors led out onto another part of the
veranda that encircled the house. It had a dramatic view of the forested
mountains all
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