Fresh from the moving experience of 'Welsh afternoon tea' in Bariloche, we were keen to repeat the experience in Gaiman, known as the Welsh capital of Patagonia. The idea of a “little Wales beyond Wales” had been mooted since 1862 by Professor Michael D. Jones, a Welsh nationalist preacher from Bala. He wanted to create a Welsh-speaking colony free from the corrupting influences of the English. In 1865 his vision was realised, as some 153 Welshmen travelled on the good ship Mimosa from Liverpool to the river Chubut in Patagonia. From there the new arrivals moved up the valley, settling in Gaiman, Dolovan and Rawson.

Mr Jones couldn't really have picked a better spot to achieve his ambitions – this area of Patagonia was at the time completely desolate, inhabited only by the local Teluelche tribe. Unfortunately, it was also pretty inhospitable, with awful weather and difficult crop-growing conditions. However, with the help of the natives the community eventually started to thrive, along with those Welsh traditions they were so keen to preserve, including the annual Eisteddfod singing and dancing competition, which continues to this day. In fact, it's probably more Welsh than parts of Wales are!

Today, Gaiman is a pretty sleepy town, with a sunlit main square and lots of rose bushes everywhere. For us, it was pretty bizarre – it felt like we'd somehow teleported back to Wales overnight. Also a lot of the people looked vaguely familiar. We expected them to be speaking English, or Welsh at the very least, so it was quite a shock when they began talking in Spanish. This mix of Welsh and Argentinian was obvious in the street and business names we passed on our walk around town – the bookshop was run by a Ricardo Jones Berwyn, and the main street was called Avenue Jones. Like parts of Wales, it seemed that nothing opened until after lunch, and so, tired after an overnight bus ride from Bariloche, we headed straight to our hostel. It was more like a B&B, and was again disorientating in its familiarity – with the floral bedspreads, pink lampshades and crotcheted placemats, I felt once more like I was back at my Aunty Enid's.

After a little rest, we headed back into town. We seemed to be the only people sightseeing that day, but that didn't deter us. We visited the oldest house in Gaiman, a stone building made by one David Roberts who seemed to spend his life travelling the world, never settling properly in one place – although he managed to stay in Patagonia long enough to sire several children. Again a lot of the furnishings were eerily familiar – am pretty sure my grandmother had the same sideboard. We also went to the Gaiman Welsh Museum, where the curator seemed inordinately pleased to see us (or perhaps, to see anyone in his museum at all). There were a lot of Victorian era pictures of Morgan's and Griffiths' here, along with the original 'town plan,' dividing the area into plots of land for each of the immigrants. I think I counted about 20 Davies' in total.

The town came to life a little more in the afternoon – it seems the main source of revenue is catering to tour parties, from Wales and elsewhere, keen to experience a little bit of Wales on this side of the Atlantic, mostly in cake form. We headed to Plas y Coed, the self-proclaimed oldest tea shop in town, and were delighted when our afternoon tea arrived complete with Welsh cakes, bara brith and strong Welsh tea. Yum! We also befriended our waitress by explaining we were both Welsh – she had lived in Swansea for 2 months a couple of years back, and took great delight in telling us she'd been through Bridgend (where I was born) on the train every day on her commute between Swansea and Cardiff. Small world.

Gaiman also has a mini-claim to fame in that Princess Diana stopped here for afternoon tea once in 1995 (or thereabouts). Our Lonely Planet claimed that the tea house in question, Ty Te Caerdydd, had kept her table exactly as it had been on that day, and had never washed the cup and saucer she'd drunk from. We decided to check it out. However, what the guidebook neglected to tell us was that the tea house was situated about 2km from town, in the middle of nowhere. And thus it was that we found ourselves on an inadvertent Diana pilgrimage. On arrival we were a little disappointed – although there were plenty of pictures of the People's Princess in the lobby, there was no sign of the cobwebby table, and we weren't allowed in without agreeing to consume another full afternoon tea. Big fan of cake that I am, even I couldn't stretch to another 7 pieces of cake, and so we had to return to town with our pilgrimage unfulfilled.

As we casually navigated yet another hairpin bend in our 'Super VIP' coach, I remembered the terror of bus journeys in Vietnam, let out a happy sigh at the comparison, and reclined my chair another notch.

We were on our way up into the Cameron Highlands, north of Kuala Lumpur. A favourite weekend journey for Singaporean supercar owners, the pristine winding roads are enclosed by dense, humming foliage on either side, but occasionally you catch glimpses of the most incredible views through gaps in the trees: forest rolling over mountains and valleys above a bright white blanket of cloud, and patches of mist drifting like ghosts over the tree-tops.

We stayed in a town called Tanah Rata in the highlands. It felt like a real mountain town – much more Alpine than Malaysian. Having trudged the length and breadth of it looking for our hostel (this took 10 minutes – it wasn't a big place) and finally checking in, we set off once more on a mission to find 'The Best Meal Ever'.

Todd's brother Joe had visited the same town several years before us, and in one presumably beer-fueled evening had stumbled across a restaurant that served him what he claimed was The Best Meal He'd Ever Had. His directions to find this culinary nirvana were, ' It's on a main road, can't remember the name of the place, but it has a sign outside that has mispelt 'various' 3 different ways'. Luckily for us, there was only one main road and it was a fairly small one at that. I'm not sure it was the best meal I've ever had, but it was definitely one of mine and Sarah's best currys. Thanks Joe!

The main attraction in the Cameron Highlands are the tea plantations. 70% of all Malaysia's tea is grown there, and about 2-3% of the world's tea. We visited the Sungai Palas Boh Tea Estate. Boh is the biggest brand of tea in Malaysia, which was founded by Scotsman J.A. Russell in 1929 and is now run by his grand-daughter Caroline.

The tea plantations themselves are beautiful, covering the hills in emerald green stripes as far as you can see. The younger leaves that haven't been picked yet are almost luminous in colour, highlighting those patches that have yet to be sheared by the teams of pickers. We only saw a handful of workers in the field, but apparently the whole estate is still picked by hand. We had a great tour guide who explained the process of growing, cutting and preparing the leaves prior to processing into tea. The marketeer in me got a little bit carried away with the details. I was amazed to find out how versatile tea plants are. Most of the differences between types of tea (Japanese, Chinese, Black) comes from the age of the leaves and the way they are processed after picking rather than from different plant types. All of Boh's teas come from the same plant, and the entire plantation is a monoculture of this one varietal. Definitely premium innovation possibilities here – single estate teas, different terroirs, new species of tea...

...as my head cleared, our 4x4 climbed further up the mountain roads (which by now had given way to gravel) clear of the tea fields and up to the summit of the Highlands – Gunung Brinchang at 2031m. After taking in the cloudy views we took a short trek into the 'Mossy Forest'. Todd tells us this was one of his highlights. The forest was a magical place (at least until we got there) - very cool, very damp and very quiet, it feels ancient even before you learn that it's around 240 million years old. Older than the dinosaurs. It's called 'mossy' as grows out of the very first moss that can attach itself to bare rock that lifted itself out of the sea. The dead leaves, trees and insects that the forest drops to the ground go on to form the soil that nurtures future forests. Each centimetre of this spongy springy soil takes over 100 years to form. Sarah managed to accumulate roughly a millenium's worth of sediment on her shoes and trousers within 10 minutes.

On the way back to town, we stopped at the Boh factory to sample some of the finished product. Their visitor's centre is cantilevered out over the side of one of their fields, and we stopped on the balcony to admire the view and enjoy the finest Cameronian Blend with some jam and scones.