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  1. #1
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    Hill station cities of SE Asia

    I'm looking to visit a few of these over the next 12 months to counter the heat, one of the biggest downsides of SEA IMO, starting with Baguio. It has eternal spring temperatures that are almost always in the mid 20s, one of the few cities in South East Asia to have so https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baguio#Climate

    With a population of a third of a million, half of which are students, thousands of square kilometres of surrounding mountains to be explored, and only an hour from the beaches of San Fernando, there's nothing in Thailand to match that.

    Da Lat in Vietnam also looks to have an awesome climate, and half the rainfall of Baguio https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Da_Lat#Climate

    Pyin Oo Lwin in Myanmar, the old summer capital of British Burma, is third on my list.

    Any suggestions for others, perhaps in Indo?

  2. #2
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    Quote Originally Posted by Immigrunt
    perhaps in Indo?
    Here you go. Very cool mountain area. Bukittinggi.
    Hotel in BUKITTINGGI - Novotel Bukittinggi

  3. #3
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    Awesome, thanks. Elevation of 930m is just about there

    I've found Kota Batu too, a Dutch hill station.

  4. #4
    Days Work Done! Norton's Avatar
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    Cameron Highlands in Malaysia is great. Cool. Nice hotels. Went there several weekends when I lived in KL.

  5. #5
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    Yes, I've been. It's a great resort to chill in but no city to speak of so not a place to stay long-term for me unfortunately.

    Mostly like that.


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    Yep. A weekender. Unless you are a tea grower. I often stayed at a friends durian farm. Not much to do.

  7. #7
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    It be cool to stay at the crazy house in Dalat. I'll keep that one on the radar. 2015 price 29usd to 60 according to the article / advertising.

    Hang Nga guesthouse.
    Last edited by fishlocker; 10-05-2017 at 08:02 PM.

  8. #8
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    Hill Station.

    Old school colonial term.
    Subconsciously reflective of a particular mindset?

    Nice.


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    Not a mindset. That's the reason they exist, because they were instigated by colonialists who missed cooler climates.

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    There's a whole list of them here ... https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hill_station

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    Excellent, cheers. Many are national parks or villages but there are a couple of towns worth a visit.

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    Quote Originally Posted by thaimeme View Post
    Hill Station.

    Old school colonial term.
    Subconsciously reflective of a particular mindset?

    Nice.

    Subconscious? Shut your mouth and get me another gin sling, Apu! Jaldi jaldi you black bastard!

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    Quote Originally Posted by Immigrunt View Post
    Not a mindset. That's the reason they exist, because they were instigated by colonialists who missed cooler climates.
    Ahh.....the good old days.

    Civilising Missions.
    White Man's Burden.
    Etc...

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    Baguio city has cool climes, but if you're looking for nice mountain views, there are very few, as it has been overdeveloped. If you can survive another 6-hr travel from Baguio, go to Sagada. It's a small town, no large hotels but there are inns (and we like it that way - we don't want it to get too commercialized). Not much nightlife, except to drink beer - it's very provincial. But there are lots of nature stuff to do - caves, trails, lake, waterfalls, etc. Check out my Sagada thread in PI section if interested.

  15. #15
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    Quote Originally Posted by Norton View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by Immigrunt
    perhaps in Indo?
    Here you go. Very cool mountain area. Bukittinggi.
    Hotel in BUKITTINGGI - Novotel Bukittinggi
    Been to Bukittinggi for a week end. Nothing much there. There is a series of tunnels that used to be a silver mine that were used by the Japanese. Silver souvenirs are cheap. I drove there from work. Couldn't recommend it if you have to make a special trip.

    Also driven through Padang Panjang. Ok if on a bike trip but not a destination.
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  17. #17
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    Quote Originally Posted by VocalNeal
    Nothing much tere
    I've never stayed there but near in Padang on a diving trip years ago.
    Only mentioned Bukittinggi because it's mountianous and cool.

  18. #18
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    Quote Originally Posted by DrB0b View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by thaimeme View Post
    Hill Station.

    Old school colonial term.
    Subconsciously reflective of a particular mindset?

    Nice.

    Subconscious? Shut your mouth and get me another gin sling, Apu! Jaldi jaldi you black bastard!
    Ahhh, the memories.
    Darjeeling before it disintegrated into a Bengali style Butlins camp for deprived and depraved Marawaris and their flocks of wives and kids dressed as if they were on an Arctic expedition, looking for curry and chips and cheap Chinese gewgaws.

    Breakfast at the tiny Tibetan momo and soup shop, hot buttered and salted Tibetan tea sipped cautiously in the misty morning, the sound of a pack horse bell in the distance leading a train of burdened beasts up to the market.

    Chowrasta, the meeting point for everyone living up and down the ridge of the once sedate hill station of Dorje Ling.

    Nepali girls laughing and chattering on their constitutional walk around the Mall, circumambulating the Sva temple, where yogins and sadhus blew chilums of hash before singing.... Om, nama Sva,......accompanied by a squeeze box and the intermittent cling clang of temple bells, no burdensome maudling chaperones to be seen anywhere, the women free to choose their own way.

    More tea as we visited shop after shop of rugs, jewels gold..
    Spending the afternoon browsing Chowrastas bookshop, mutton curry with dahl and rice for dinner, whisky and sodas, argue the toss of politics, till midnight.

    Awake early for a cup of Darjeeling orange pekoe, chapati and dahi breakfast then off on a trip up to Tiger Hill to see Mt Everest rising at dawn, ....then to Ghoom monastery, protected by the flutter of prayer flags and rattling of bamboo stems' staccato against the rhythmic chanting of the monks as the great votive horns blown sonorously over the chasms below echoed back across the void.....mists whispering through the pines.

    On to Kalimpong a few hours drive down the steep flanks of the Himalayan foothills to the Tista river, then on up into the ancient, once princedom of Sikkim, and on to Gangtok, stopping for alu dhum, tea and oranges on the way.

    The return by the same road but this time to stop at a mela, where hordes of beautiful Nepali, Lepcha, Gorka, girls laughing and openly flirted for prospective lovers or husbands, music rocking the night away booths glowing dimly to invite hungry and thirsty revellers to feast on piles barbecued beef, and goat washed down with whisky or rice wine, before sleeping

    Breakfast of fruit, omelettes and tea, then on, arriving at Darjeeling the next day at a very reasonable eleven o'clock, in time for a civilized pre-lunch drink at the Planters', who's faded colonial glory was enhanced by the ancient saluting bearer's curry stained but otherwise spotlessly white jacket and medalled turban, as he asked in puka English, "Would you like anything to drink sir?'

    A gin sling, jaldi hei bearer! Oh, and a bloody Mary for madam."
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  19. #19
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    Quote Originally Posted by ENT View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by DrB0b View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by thaimeme View Post
    Hill Station.

    Old school colonial term.
    Subconsciously reflective of a particular mindset?

    Nice.

    Subconscious? Shut your mouth and get me another gin sling, Apu! Jaldi jaldi you black bastard!
    Ahhh, the memories.
    Darjeeling before it disintegrated into a Bengali style Butlins camp for deprived and depraved Marawaris and their flocks of wives and kids dressed as if they were on an Arctic expedition, looking for curry and chips and cheap Chinese gewgaws.

    Breakfast at the tiny Tibetan momo and soup shop, hot buttered and salted Tibetan tea sipped cautiously in the misty morning, the sound of a pack horse bell in the distance leading a train of burdened beasts up to the market.

    Chowrasta, the meeting point for everyone living up and down the ridge of the once sedate hill station of Dorje Ling.

    Nepali girls laughing and chattering on their constitutional walk around the Mall, circumambulating the Sva temple, where yogins and sadhus blew chilums of hash before singing.... Om, nama Sva,......accompanied by a squeeze box and the intermittent cling clang of temple bells, no burdensome maudling chaperones to be seen anywhere, the women free to choose their own way.

    More tea as we visited shop after shop of rugs, jewels gold..
    Spending the afternoon browsing Chowrastas bookshop, mutton curry with dahl and rice for dinner, whisky and sodas, argue the toss of politics, till midnight.

    Awake early for a cup of Darjeeling orange pekoe, chapati and dahi breakfast then off on a trip up to Tiger Hill to see Mt Everest rising at dawn, ....then to Ghoom monastery, protected by the flutter of prayer flags and rattling of bamboo stems' staccato against the rhythmic chanting of the monks as the great votive horns blown sonorously over the chasms below echoed back across the void.....mists whispering through the pines.

    On to Kalimpong a few hours drive down the steep flanks of the Himalayan foothills to the Tista river, then on up into the ancient, once princedom of Sikkim, and on to Gangtok, stopping for alu dhum, tea and oranges on the way.

    The return by the same road but this time to stop at a mela, where hordes of beautiful Nepali, Lepcha, Gorka, girls laughing and openly flirted for prospective lovers or husbands, music rocking the night away booths glowing dimly to invite hungry and thirsty revellers to feast on piles barbecued beef, and goat washed down with whisky or rice wine, before sleeping

    Breakfast of fruit, omelettes and tea, then on, arriving at Darjeeling the next day at a very reasonable eleven o'clock, in time for a civilized pre-lunch drink at the Planters', who's faded colonial glory was enhanced by the ancient saluting bearer's curry stained but otherwise spotlessly white jacket and medalled turban, as he asked in puka English, "Would you like anything to drink sir?'

    A gin sling, jaldi hei bearer! Oh, and a bloody Mary for madam."
    Nice memory.
    "In my professional assessment as an intelligence officer, Trump has a reflexive, defensive, monumentally narcissistic personality, for whom the facts and national interest are irrelevant, and the only thing that counts is whatever gives personal advantage and directs attention to himself."

  20. #20
    ENT
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    Cheers cujo.

    Lots of pleasant memories of old (and more recent) India echoing through my head.

  21. #21
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    ....and still consider Darjeeling/Indian teas to be supreme, as most English-speakers do today.

    Gauche.

  22. #22
    ENT
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    There are everal types of tea grown in Darjeeling, all lovely, nothing "gauche" about them.

    The Darjeeling tea industry was created during the Raj of India days, pushed into prominence by British growers and exporters and are now Indian owned, very few if any of the plantations are in British or white owners' hands.

    The old Darjeeling Planters' Club was a grand old place, even after Indian independence, it's attached hospital serving the local populace as well as the club members who financed it.

    Today, Planters' is run by Indians for Indian tea plantation owners, and it looks like it too, pretty run down, it's beautiful furniture, the billiards table with its Welsh slate top, knocked or flogged off. Library reduced to a mouldering stack of shelves at the end of the old breakfast verandah, all the hunting trophy heads gone or beetle ravaged.

    Funny though, when I last stayed there around 8 yrs ago, I was asked if I wanted the bath run for me, and the fire lit, to which I said "Yes please".

    The bearer then proceeded to lay and light the fire, newspaper shredded, kindling, coal. soon the fire was blazing, but puffing back clouds of smoke into the room, so then he popped out and got a step ladder to climb up and opened a hatch in the ceiling, through which I could clearly see the night's starry sky through the rotted out old corrugated iron roof. above the hatch, just to let the smoke out.

    He then got down and beetled off to fetch great jugs and buckets of hot water, poured them into the bath, then proceeded to "run the bath" for me with cold water, after which he climbed up the step ladder once more to close the hatch, thus retaining some heat in the by now cooling but smoke free room.

    There was a small dressing room to one side of the bedroom where an antiquated clothes horse was stored, which he then set up in front of the blazing fire to air my bedding, all of it cold and damp.

    "Shite!", I thought, but after a supper of 2 boiled eggs, toast and jam followed by the inevitable cup of tea, I drew solace from a bottle of Johnny Walker liberally dosing my tea which was replenished from a big china pot under a tea cosy and a Jim Corbett book from the club library, The Black Panther of Katmandu,"

    ....Riveting, ( both the book and the whisky), ...and so I rescued my bedding and flaked out on the cold mattress which had a number of hot water bottles covered in extra blankets stashed on it by the bearer before he pissed off coughing and snorting to his kip.
    Last edited by ENT; 11-05-2017 at 01:01 AM.

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