The Jeep-road to the Spice Mountains bumps and grinds past rice paddies, red-plantations trees, and roadside carpets of green and red capsicums laid out to dry in the sun: through cashew and areca-nut Orchards and up, upto the kingdoms of cardamon and cumin, to the shadow of young coffee plants in flower, to the terraces of tea that look like gaint green tiled roofs, and to the empire of Malabar pepper above all. Early in the morning the bulbuls sing, working elephants amble past, munching amiably at the vegetarian.

Salman Rushdie
The Moor's Last Sigh