Aspects of narrowboat life and other inspired observations gained from my personal travels made into a quirky blog to from a Lancastrian Recalcitrant.
recalcitrant
rɪˈkalsɪtr(ə)nt/
adjective
1.
having an obstinately uncooperative attitude towards authority or discipline.
noun
1.
a person with a recalcitrant attitude.
"a stiff-necked recalcitrant and troublemaker"
☯️
Start with what is right
rather than what is acceptable.
Franz Kafka.
Torn on the Platform…
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A short taxi ride from the riverside hotel took us to Wakif Bharu for the morning train. The previous evening we had discovered that our plan of getting off at Kuala Krai and taking a boat up the river to Dabong was not possible as this service was not operating. Instead, a little torn, we purchased tickets for the end of the line, Gua Musang, continuing on into the internal jungle heart of Malaysia.
It got obviously more greener and more and more remote, calling at smaller and smaller platforms along the route until finally we got to the end of the line. At Gua Musang it was the same story, because of Ramadan everywhere is closed up. Another rethink outside a small shop to get some provisions and we were off again, this time by ‘Grab’ car as our decision was to continue on to have a look at the Cameron Highlands.
The road was pretty windy and bumpy so it was a relief to arrive at Tanah RATA in one piece but along the way we had witnessed the intensive ‘growing’ areas where Chinese companies were covering the hillsides in plastic sheeting to cultivate vegetables and plants on a massive scale of production that was unnerving.
The Cameron Highlands read well, a lovely area full of cultivated tea plantations..this was not the welcoming sight as we pulled into Tanah Rata. It was a mess of sprawling towns with little to attract an audience.
We ate at the local nightly food market in the centre of Tanah Rata made the decision to leave the Cameron Highlands in the morning, slightly dissatisfied.
There is a great sense of community here and entrepreneurial excellence as, for example, our evening meal meat was purchased direct from the butcher and then cooked on the grill next door and the drinks, bread, harissa soup, salad, tagine etc to accompany came to our table on the street from a small restaurant across the road…3 separate bills but all for next to nowt. As we sat with our morning brew watching the sun rise up warming the bay, the local fishermen set off through the waves for their daily catch. Yesterday had been great fun as after our surfing attempt, we opted for ‘Boogie-boards’ for the afternoon and had more success riding the breaking waves into the shore. Great fun, but when you get it wrong the power of the waves fold you like paper and cartwheel you along in a white blur…Now, the older bones and muscles are feeling the battering today so we are off to the souk! We piled on the local morning bus heading for El Had in Agadir, promising 6000 shops within the walled 13...
Pinch, punch it’s the start of the month…and the start of another blog! As the barrier lifts up it’s pitch black, wild and windy and the winter rain feels a few degrees above zero as we make our way into the long stay car park at Edinburgh airport to catch the early morning’Marrakesh Express’ flight out to the Kingdom of Morocco. We have between us 3 pairs of shorts, a speaker, sunglasses and a large lump of Mr Zogs Sex Wax…what more do u need for a winter break at a surf camp? This time, we are off to the Moroccan sunshine, spiritual home of the camel and the tagine…that would make a great name for a pub “Il meet you for a pint in the Camel & Tagine”…I digress… A week in the waves should be a tonic…so once Iv been swabbed for explosives by a stern Border Control operative we head for the Duty Free to purchase gin to go with it! Winding past the plethora of perfumeries and scarf-mongers we head for the gate, stopping to frown in despair at society as the baseball capped, shel...
“ If at some point we all succumb For goodness sake, let us be young ‘Cause time gets harder to outrun And I’m nobody, I’m not done…” So, we have arrived at Taghazout, a small Berber fishing village on the Atlantic coast about an hour north of Agadir and nestled in the foothills of the High Atlas mountains directly behind us. Behind the penthouse door we found a wonderfully equipped and spacious ‘Surf Berber’ apartment that had everything we needed for the week and overlooked the beautiful Taghazout bay….and the surf was looking good! From the balcony we can sit and watch the enticing sets rolling in. Whoever said surfin’ was difficult just hasn’t tried hard enough…all you need is to be flexible and supple with a good balance, paddle-speed, technique, posture and the perfect wave and anyone can do it… That said, it took a good hour to slip gracefully into the neoprene snake-skin before we eventually managed to get the zipper to the position where the breathing became an issu...
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