March 6-7 – Shanghai, China
March 6 – Following Daddy’s footsteps
This was the next of the important ports where Daddy and Walter had spent five days, and so to ensure that we saw all the critical places from their letters, we arranged for a private guide – Charlie – to whom I had emailed all the sites or buildings mentioned in the letters of 1927-28.
Once we left the East China Sea, our trip down the Yangzi River and then the Huangpu River took a good ten hours. The pilot was on board the entire time to guide the ship past the many container ships, barges and other commercial traffic that filled both rivers. Having docked at 7:00 am, we went through our usual face-to-face customs with the Chinese authorities and went to find Charlie to begin our one day tour.
Charlie met us as we came through customs, and for the rest of the very rainy, cold day we were in the hands of him and the driver, in our large gray van. Charlie had done his homework, and while he teased us that we were only looking at the ‘old Shanghai’, we promised him that next time we came to visit we’d have him as our guide and look at the ‘new Shanghai’…. which continues to be as exciting a city as it was for the boys in the 20’s.
Our first stop was the Astor Hotel, the place they’d stayed and enjoyed so much for its elegance and convenient location. The hotel has a long and storied history as it was known as ‘the Waldorf Astoria of Shanghai’. It has gone through a series of owners since its start in the mid 1800’s, and is currently undergoing its next transformation. Julie Lang, a friend from Peacham had taken some pictures when she had visited Shanghai, so we had an idea of what we would see, but there is nothing like being there ‘in the flesh’. We snapped pictures in the lobby area and then asked to see an old room as would have existed in the 20’s. After a bit of hemming and hawing, we were led to a ‘celebrity room’ which had once been used by Marconi. To get to this room we wound our way through dark hallways, and the less ‘gracious’ parts of the hotel, but it was worth it: the room was furnished as it would have been in the 20’s with leather chairs, a very ornate bed, and light fixtures which while new, resembled the old. The only indication that you were in the year 2011 was the bathroom which was very modern and ‘up-scale’. We happily snapped pictures under the watchful eye of our escort, one of the bellmen who was there I’m sure, to ensure we didn’t do any mischief. Even Charlie, who has taken many people to the hotel lobby, admitted that this was his first time in one of the guestrooms. We continued downstairs to snap pictures in the room which I thought to be the ‘grill room’ in which the boys enjoyed meals, and the ballroom area where they enjoyed a dance. As in Malaysia and Singapore, it was eerie but wonderful to be in the same place that the boys had enjoyed.
We left the hotel, and headed past the current Russian consulate, and across the canal on the Garden Bridge to visit the Huangpu Park, which was once part of the International Concession (everyone but the French, who had their own concession). The park was remembered as the place where the entrance gate said “No dogs or Chinese allowed”. Not one of the great moments in the colonial abuse of China! My father had visited an import/export company on this side of the bridge, and Charlie discovered that the building still exists. It is now a private club, and sits in a bucolic park facing the canal. Since it was a quiet Sunday morning, Charlie arranged with the guard at the gate for us to go up the curving drive for a few pictures. Shanghai was amazingly quiet on this grey, drizzly morning; very peaceful, which was amazing considering how many people live in the city.
We then strolled along the Bund, and the new walkway built so that pedestrians can enjoy the river without being run over by buses, cars or scooters. Shanghai fell into ‘disrepair’ during the time of Mao, and it is only since the re-opening of China to the outside world that the government has put a great deal of money into restoring the Bund. While the fronts of the buildings are restored to their 1920’s look, many of these Western-style buildings have been gutted on the insides to become modern financial offices. Daddy had described this row of buildings as “wonderful palaces….dedicated to banks, of course”. Many banks continue to reside here, though the major portion of the financial sector has moved to a brand new location across the river, where in 1928 there were nothing buy docks and slums.
When one looks at the old buildings of the Bund you see mostly Western architecture. Only the old Bank of China Building tried to have a slightly pagoda-like roof at the top and Chinese style windows, since it had been designed by an American-trained Chinese architect. Charlie told great stories about the rivalry between the owner of this building and Mr. Sassoon, a wealthy Jewish Industrialist, who built the structure, right next door, and tried to make his the taller building with the green pointed roof. But the Bank of China went one step further…the competition of egotists.
Our next stop was the Great Palace of Amusement which existed in Daddy’s time, and only recently closed. A very old-fashioned place, it provided the locals with a multi-tiered building providing theater, opera, gambling and other amusements. Charlie did not believe it included prostitution, so we’ll believe him. Unfortunately at this point it was quite rainy, so we took pictures outside, as best we could. We stopped next at an authentic ‘Chinese pharmacist’, who provides herbs and roots to cure any and all problems. This emporium of Chinese cure-alls dates back to the 1800’s and the ladies and gentlemen inside who were the sales people/consultants were dressed in white lab coats to prove their authenticity and ability to provide any cure for ‘what ails you’. A delightful stop on a rainy day.
We next wanted to see the large model of the city of Shanghai which exists in the Department of Urban Planning. What an amazing thing – a room of 100 square meter s which contains a perfect 1:2000 scale model of the entire city. Every damn building including the entire set of buildings associated with the recent Shanghai Expo. Not only was there the model, but it had lighting to mimic the city’s lighting so that the main area around the Bund was brilliantly lit, while all arterial roads and structures had dimmer lights. We took a million pictures, but nothing could do this any justice. In addition to the model, different floors of the building portrayed the city at different times with diorama, photographs and maps. As Charlie said with his whimsical smile, you’re not the only one who is taking ‘then and now’ photographs, at which point he drew open a series of displays showing the city in the early 1900’s and in 2008. We had a great time looking at the photographs before hunger took over and we headed to lunch.
Along with most of Shanghai, who was out shopping or strolling in the rain, we headed to the Yu Gardens and Bazaar, a lovely replica of what old Shanghai must have looked like in its market areas – rebuilt for the current population. Winding narrow streets, houses with traditional ‘pointy’ roofs, and in the middle a dining ‘establishment ‘of three floors, and crowds waiting in line. Charlie seemed to be a regular and so we skipped the lines and were seated on the second floor at a table for eight. Soon another three-some joined us: mother, father and incredibly spoiled daughter who spent the entire meal screaming at the waitresses, taking food from her parents’ plates, or chatting on her telephone. Charlie suggested that this was one of the down-sides to the one-child policy – children who were spoiled and doted on by their anxious parents, and so undisciplined that it was unlikely that they would take responsibility for their parents in their old age, never mind the grandparents. It will be interesting to see how this very hierarchical society which honors the parents and ancestors survives this ‘blip’ in the natural Chinese family structure.
Our lunch was yummy, washed down with Tsingtao beer (of course), and we left ready to take on the world in the now pouring rain. My gimpy knee was beginning to fade though, so we continued our tour mostly in the car: the Paramount club where ladies continue to entertain men not unlike the dancing Russian women Daddy remembered; a visit into the French Concession to see the homes of Sun Yat Sen and Chou En Lai, and to get a sense of what this neighborhood looked like; and our last stop at the synagogue and Jewish Museum where we looked at the building but I was too whipped to go inside. This hadn’t been part of the boy’s original trip, so I felt I could hold this, and the entire episode of the Hitler era ‘Shanghai Ghetto’, for the next visit to this fascinating city.
One of the people on our cruise ship, Peter Valentine, had actually lived in this area, having fled Germany with his family when he was two years old. He lived in the Jewish Ghetto until he was ten, and he had a private tour that allowed him to see the house where he had lived and which he hadn’t seen for sixty years. It was an emotional trip for him, which he related to us when we got back to the ship.
We bid adieu to Charlie and the driver and collapsed aboard ship, having had a very busy, emotional and delightful day visiting ‘old Shanghai’. This is a city definitely worthy of a return visit.
March 7 – Monday
Of course, because we were not on tour, we woke to a crisp, sunny day in Shanghai. The highs would be in the 30’s so we bundled up, got on the shuttle bus and chose to repeat our walk along the Bund to get pictures in the sunshine.
Since we had less than four hours to tour, we walked to Nanjing Road which continues to be a very trendy shopping street with all the upscale shops and department stores along a pedestrian walk-way. You can see that the streets would be too narrow for pedestrians and modern day vehicles, so it has sensibly become a shopping delight for pedestrians. But it was just too slick and new. You had no sense that an old city was throbbing underneath, so having looked at a few shops, we took a parallel side street and suddenly found ourselves back in an older, less glitzy Shanghai. Narrow sidewalks, many sad, dusty, worn bicycles, work men soldering, mending, constructing, and small shops catering to the locals. There was one ‘eatery’ where men were hanging around outside, and I saw the hugest ‘bucket’ of rice I’ve ever seen in my life. I wanted to take a picture as they were scooping out great wads to serve to the men, but the proprietor came rushing out screaming ‘no picture, no picture’. We assumed he was either doing something illegal, or he was nervous about us, so we took no photographs and continued on to the Bund, and the park where the shuttle whisked us back to the ship.
What an amazing city – aesthetically appealing, vibrant, historical, it ranks up there with Hong Kong and Bangkok, as a city we could come to love in Asia. Definitely a return visit is required; we only skimmed the surface and need time to wallow a bit in neighborhoods, restaurants and all the museums we never even went into.
Addendum: while in Shanghai, I received a series of emails from the Hong Kong City Museum. Having left Daddy’s pictures at the front reception desk on a Sunday, the archivist was able to get back and tell me two important pieces of data: he recognized where the boys had ‘snapped’ the street scenes in Hong Kong based on a barber shop which he could identify in the picture. But eerier still, he informed us that the Hong Kong Hotel where the boys had stayed had been torn down in 1952 and on its site was the new Landmark Hotel. Well, it just so happened that when Bob and I were getting frustrated trying to locate the sites, we stopped at the Landmark to get a map and directions from the doorman. How eerie is that! We were at the exact location, and we hadn’t even known it at the time. There are mysteries in this world not worth trying to explain.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
March 2-5 Japan
This is ancient news, but we finally have internet connections.
March 2 – 5 - Japan
March 2nd – Day at Sea
The ‘boisterous’ seas continued the entire day at sea so that most dining venues were distinctly empty. The winds and sea began to calm a bit by late afternoon and by midnight the tempest had ended. But it took its toll: 60% of the crew was ill, and one of the guest lecturers had begun to barf in the middle of his lecture and had to stop. The thrill of ocean travels. So much for a quiet day at sea to sit by the pool and relax.
March 3rd – Kagashima, Japan
Our arrival at Kagashima was uneventful as the seas were now calm as glass. We were all asked to go through a ‘face to face’ meeting with the immigration authorities of Japan, which was quite thorough: a full body temperature scan, a fingerprint scan, a photograph, and a face to face before our landing card was stamped for the day. Since neither of us had any plans to get off the ship, it was a bit of a drill. Since it was 46 degrees and quite wet and raw outside, we were not inspired to explore the city streets. Kagashima is well known for its active volcano, and during the morning it emitted a loud ‘Boom’, and a plume of smoke!
We had looked at all the guidebooks and read all the tour descriptions, and nothing told us we wanted to get off the ship, so we used the day for laundry and reading. Since the spa is fairly empty on port-days, they had a special of two treatments for $100.00 which I used to have a hot rocks massage, and a neck and shoulder massage. The spa was obviously desperate for business since there was no one there but myself. I’m guessing that this is a crowd less interested in being pampered, and thus the revenue flow was not what the ship and Canyon Ranch would like.
March 4 – Nagasaki Japan
Having skipped seeing the sites of Kagashima, we felt obliged to get off the ship and see something of Japan, so with our passport and landing cards in hand, we headed off to see the Nagasaki Peace Park and the Museum associated with the dropping of the bomb.
In the port terminal which is right in the heart of the town, there were men dressed as samurai warriors (if you wanted your picture taken next to one), and ladies selling tourist junk if you were too lazy to go to town, but more importantly there was an information desk which provided maps, instructions and guidance in English. We had been warned that English signage would be spare if not non-existent, so we wanted to be sure we knew what we were up to. We bought a one-day tram pass, were instructed as to how to use the tram and off we went on a crisp, cold (45 degrees), sunny day.
Our tram ride was uneventful. Two voices accompanied us on the ride: a programmed voice of a woman informing us – in Japanese - of tram stops and other important things (at least we think that was what she was saying), and more importantly, the tram conductor himself who in a very calm, cadenced voice announced each stop and thanked each person as they got off the tram and paid their fare. We transferred from the Green line to the Blue line, and at the appropriate stop hopped off and headed to the park.
The park was based at ‘ground zero’ of the bomb that was dropped on August 9, 1945. There were various monuments to honor those who died, with special memorials for the Koreans, Russians and other nationalities struck down that day. There is a large, black obelisk at the exact “hypo-center’ where the plutonium “Fat-man” bomb exploded 500 feet in the air. We continued on to the museum, a very modern building, which reminded me of the Guggenheim. A spiral ramp led us to the lowest level of the museum where there were dioramas, historic time lines, photographs and videos associated with the destruction. An entire exhibit was dedicated to the theme that such bombs should never be used again, along with details on other nuclear sites where bombs have been tested since 1945 (Bikini, Nevada, New Mexico, Kazakhstan, etc). We did not read every sign and notice since we pretty much knew the story. Bob ,who had mixed feelings about visiting Japan and this site, had to admit that the Japanese tried to be very even-handed in their descriptions. They did acknowledge Pearl Harbor and their attacks on Nanking, but for the most part the allies were thoroughly chastised for their actions.
With the afternoon moving on, we headed back to the ship, reversing our tram experience in a tram car so jammed with local residents that we felt like sardines. We both looked out the windows at the passing stores, restaurants and shops, but nothing compelled us to get off and take further looks around.
Nagasaki is a busy port which, were it not for the sad history of the bomb, would probably not be considered a tourist destination. Other than the park, and signs leading to it, there was absolutely nothing in English. I felt much the same as when I first arrived in Greece, where the alphabet gave me few clues as to whether I was looking at advertisements for food, clothing or telephones. For the first time in a long time, I felt that in order to visit this country, I would definitely need a guide. I’m sure that the big cities have more dual-language signage, but outside these major hubs, it would behoove one to have a guide.
This was our ship’s last port of call in Japan, and so we had another face-to-face meeting with immigration. It seemed to us that the communist government of Viet Nam had less immigration requirements than the Japanese, and we felt as if we were in a highly threatened country rather than a democratic state. I’m not sure why the Japanese feel this need for caution, and I’ll have to read more about it. But it was a nuisance not only for us, but for the crew who have to organize the distribution and then the re-collection of passports. To keep everything as organized and efficient as possible so as not to antagonize the passengers, our crew had to be up very early in the morning and late at night as they got ready for the next country and the next port of call.
Dinner tonight was in Toscana, the Italian restaurant on deck nine. We joined a lovely couple whom Doris had met: Larry and David from Washington D.C. The conversation was lively, interesting, and very companionable. We sat at our table for over three hours, as course after course was consumed, and we might have stayed longer had I not faded with tiredness. To meet articulate, well-informed people who have led interesting lives is what makes these trips special.
Tonight we turn the clocks back and hour to get in synch with China, so we get an extra hour in bed to help us sleep off the many glasses of wine we enjoyed over our meal.
March 5 – at sea
Another day at sea to get ready for our first important day in Shanghai. Here we will be meeting our private guide Charlie, who plans to take us to the various locations mentioned in the letters of ‘the boys’.
I checked my email today for the first time in two days – the Japanese had stopped our ship’s satellite from receiving or transmitting so that the internet, the cell phones and other modern communications were unavailable for the period during which we were on Japanese soil.
In my in-basket was a lovely note from the gentleman at the Hong Kong City Museum who identified very specifically each of the locations of the boy’s pictures. I had left a copy of the photos at the information desk of the museum when we were there on February 26th, and I was delighted to get such a thorough response from the museum. It was a barber shop in the picture that told him exactly where the photos were taken in 1928. Now THAT’S service!
The only lecture we attended today was one with three officers of the ship: the captain, Leo Strazicic from Dubrovnik, the General Manager, Carlo Gunetti from Genoa (who had served onboard the original ‘Love Boat” albeit in the background), and the Chief Engineer from Bari, Italy. Passengers had provided questions, and the three did their best to answer them:
• The ship gets most of its provisions from the US. Every two weeks they get three 40-ft. containers of fresh or frozen food. In between, while in the Asian waters, they get back up from Australia and Hong Kong.
• When asked about the role of the pilots who come on at every port, the captain said some were useful, but many were useless. But it is a law that they come on-board as advisors.
• There are 40-50 nationalities represented by the crew, and they try to give them as much entertainment as possible since the crew is young, work long hours and live in very confined spaces.
• When asked if there was the ability to handle a helicopter for a emergency, the captain said that there was a place, aft of the funnel, to winch up a stretcher …and “if the passenger survived the winching, they’d probably live through whatever came next”.
• When asked their favorite ports the captain said Argentina, Gunetti liked Bora Bora and the engineer liked anything but Europe.
One doesn’t learn a lot more, but it is a chance to meet the crew that has our life in their hands, and to learn a little about the intricacies of the ship.
The other lecturers we have eschewed having given them each a try or two before deciding it wasn’t worth rushing to the Nautica Lounge to hear: a very ego-centric woman named Sondra Ettlinger, whose job is to tell us a bit about up-coming ports but who is mainly advertising her web site and what she perceives to be her great photographs; Colonel Stephen Bauer who served as a staff military aid to the Nixon, Ford and Carter white houses, and told juicy tidbits about the protocol and behavior of guests coming for events to the White House; and a traveling couple of academics from Alaska who put us to sleep. In this aspect we miss the Queen Mary and its superb lecturers, but then, this trip is meant to be filled with ports of interest and here the tour guides have been truly excellent. I am sure a lot is a question of cost, and Oceania just can’t lure great lecturers to their ships.
But, since tomorrow is a day for déjà vu all over again, Bob and I spent the time re-reading Daddy’s letters ,as well as other materials about Shanghai we had downloaded off the web. We’re ready for Shanghai, by gum!
March 2 – 5 - Japan
March 2nd – Day at Sea
The ‘boisterous’ seas continued the entire day at sea so that most dining venues were distinctly empty. The winds and sea began to calm a bit by late afternoon and by midnight the tempest had ended. But it took its toll: 60% of the crew was ill, and one of the guest lecturers had begun to barf in the middle of his lecture and had to stop. The thrill of ocean travels. So much for a quiet day at sea to sit by the pool and relax.
March 3rd – Kagashima, Japan
Our arrival at Kagashima was uneventful as the seas were now calm as glass. We were all asked to go through a ‘face to face’ meeting with the immigration authorities of Japan, which was quite thorough: a full body temperature scan, a fingerprint scan, a photograph, and a face to face before our landing card was stamped for the day. Since neither of us had any plans to get off the ship, it was a bit of a drill. Since it was 46 degrees and quite wet and raw outside, we were not inspired to explore the city streets. Kagashima is well known for its active volcano, and during the morning it emitted a loud ‘Boom’, and a plume of smoke!
We had looked at all the guidebooks and read all the tour descriptions, and nothing told us we wanted to get off the ship, so we used the day for laundry and reading. Since the spa is fairly empty on port-days, they had a special of two treatments for $100.00 which I used to have a hot rocks massage, and a neck and shoulder massage. The spa was obviously desperate for business since there was no one there but myself. I’m guessing that this is a crowd less interested in being pampered, and thus the revenue flow was not what the ship and Canyon Ranch would like.
March 4 – Nagasaki Japan
Having skipped seeing the sites of Kagashima, we felt obliged to get off the ship and see something of Japan, so with our passport and landing cards in hand, we headed off to see the Nagasaki Peace Park and the Museum associated with the dropping of the bomb.
In the port terminal which is right in the heart of the town, there were men dressed as samurai warriors (if you wanted your picture taken next to one), and ladies selling tourist junk if you were too lazy to go to town, but more importantly there was an information desk which provided maps, instructions and guidance in English. We had been warned that English signage would be spare if not non-existent, so we wanted to be sure we knew what we were up to. We bought a one-day tram pass, were instructed as to how to use the tram and off we went on a crisp, cold (45 degrees), sunny day.
Our tram ride was uneventful. Two voices accompanied us on the ride: a programmed voice of a woman informing us – in Japanese - of tram stops and other important things (at least we think that was what she was saying), and more importantly, the tram conductor himself who in a very calm, cadenced voice announced each stop and thanked each person as they got off the tram and paid their fare. We transferred from the Green line to the Blue line, and at the appropriate stop hopped off and headed to the park.
The park was based at ‘ground zero’ of the bomb that was dropped on August 9, 1945. There were various monuments to honor those who died, with special memorials for the Koreans, Russians and other nationalities struck down that day. There is a large, black obelisk at the exact “hypo-center’ where the plutonium “Fat-man” bomb exploded 500 feet in the air. We continued on to the museum, a very modern building, which reminded me of the Guggenheim. A spiral ramp led us to the lowest level of the museum where there were dioramas, historic time lines, photographs and videos associated with the destruction. An entire exhibit was dedicated to the theme that such bombs should never be used again, along with details on other nuclear sites where bombs have been tested since 1945 (Bikini, Nevada, New Mexico, Kazakhstan, etc). We did not read every sign and notice since we pretty much knew the story. Bob ,who had mixed feelings about visiting Japan and this site, had to admit that the Japanese tried to be very even-handed in their descriptions. They did acknowledge Pearl Harbor and their attacks on Nanking, but for the most part the allies were thoroughly chastised for their actions.
With the afternoon moving on, we headed back to the ship, reversing our tram experience in a tram car so jammed with local residents that we felt like sardines. We both looked out the windows at the passing stores, restaurants and shops, but nothing compelled us to get off and take further looks around.
Nagasaki is a busy port which, were it not for the sad history of the bomb, would probably not be considered a tourist destination. Other than the park, and signs leading to it, there was absolutely nothing in English. I felt much the same as when I first arrived in Greece, where the alphabet gave me few clues as to whether I was looking at advertisements for food, clothing or telephones. For the first time in a long time, I felt that in order to visit this country, I would definitely need a guide. I’m sure that the big cities have more dual-language signage, but outside these major hubs, it would behoove one to have a guide.
This was our ship’s last port of call in Japan, and so we had another face-to-face meeting with immigration. It seemed to us that the communist government of Viet Nam had less immigration requirements than the Japanese, and we felt as if we were in a highly threatened country rather than a democratic state. I’m not sure why the Japanese feel this need for caution, and I’ll have to read more about it. But it was a nuisance not only for us, but for the crew who have to organize the distribution and then the re-collection of passports. To keep everything as organized and efficient as possible so as not to antagonize the passengers, our crew had to be up very early in the morning and late at night as they got ready for the next country and the next port of call.
Dinner tonight was in Toscana, the Italian restaurant on deck nine. We joined a lovely couple whom Doris had met: Larry and David from Washington D.C. The conversation was lively, interesting, and very companionable. We sat at our table for over three hours, as course after course was consumed, and we might have stayed longer had I not faded with tiredness. To meet articulate, well-informed people who have led interesting lives is what makes these trips special.
Tonight we turn the clocks back and hour to get in synch with China, so we get an extra hour in bed to help us sleep off the many glasses of wine we enjoyed over our meal.
March 5 – at sea
Another day at sea to get ready for our first important day in Shanghai. Here we will be meeting our private guide Charlie, who plans to take us to the various locations mentioned in the letters of ‘the boys’.
I checked my email today for the first time in two days – the Japanese had stopped our ship’s satellite from receiving or transmitting so that the internet, the cell phones and other modern communications were unavailable for the period during which we were on Japanese soil.
In my in-basket was a lovely note from the gentleman at the Hong Kong City Museum who identified very specifically each of the locations of the boy’s pictures. I had left a copy of the photos at the information desk of the museum when we were there on February 26th, and I was delighted to get such a thorough response from the museum. It was a barber shop in the picture that told him exactly where the photos were taken in 1928. Now THAT’S service!
The only lecture we attended today was one with three officers of the ship: the captain, Leo Strazicic from Dubrovnik, the General Manager, Carlo Gunetti from Genoa (who had served onboard the original ‘Love Boat” albeit in the background), and the Chief Engineer from Bari, Italy. Passengers had provided questions, and the three did their best to answer them:
• The ship gets most of its provisions from the US. Every two weeks they get three 40-ft. containers of fresh or frozen food. In between, while in the Asian waters, they get back up from Australia and Hong Kong.
• When asked about the role of the pilots who come on at every port, the captain said some were useful, but many were useless. But it is a law that they come on-board as advisors.
• There are 40-50 nationalities represented by the crew, and they try to give them as much entertainment as possible since the crew is young, work long hours and live in very confined spaces.
• When asked if there was the ability to handle a helicopter for a emergency, the captain said that there was a place, aft of the funnel, to winch up a stretcher …and “if the passenger survived the winching, they’d probably live through whatever came next”.
• When asked their favorite ports the captain said Argentina, Gunetti liked Bora Bora and the engineer liked anything but Europe.
One doesn’t learn a lot more, but it is a chance to meet the crew that has our life in their hands, and to learn a little about the intricacies of the ship.
The other lecturers we have eschewed having given them each a try or two before deciding it wasn’t worth rushing to the Nautica Lounge to hear: a very ego-centric woman named Sondra Ettlinger, whose job is to tell us a bit about up-coming ports but who is mainly advertising her web site and what she perceives to be her great photographs; Colonel Stephen Bauer who served as a staff military aid to the Nixon, Ford and Carter white houses, and told juicy tidbits about the protocol and behavior of guests coming for events to the White House; and a traveling couple of academics from Alaska who put us to sleep. In this aspect we miss the Queen Mary and its superb lecturers, but then, this trip is meant to be filled with ports of interest and here the tour guides have been truly excellent. I am sure a lot is a question of cost, and Oceania just can’t lure great lecturers to their ships.
But, since tomorrow is a day for déjà vu all over again, Bob and I spent the time re-reading Daddy’s letters ,as well as other materials about Shanghai we had downloaded off the web. We’re ready for Shanghai, by gum!
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Feb. 26-27 - Hong Kong
Feb. 26 – Hong Kong
Hong Kong was all that we wanted it to be. The weather was warm and sunny without being hot, everyone was in a week-end mood wherever we went, and all the changes which we feared may have changed the city since the re-unification with China were not visible. Our ship was docked on the Kowloon side of the harbor right next to the Star Ferry Terminal which made life amazingly easy. As one left the ship, the gangway actually led us right into the second level of the Ocean Terminal Shopping Mall – a very upscale emporium where every HK citizen seemed to be shopping or window browsing.
This being the first of the cities which actually is part of Daddy’s trip, we read over his and Walter’s Hong Kong letters before we arrived. The letters pretty much drove our two days, from our arrival (where we were up on deck at 7am snapping pictures), to the evening departure where we were again on deck enjoying the sound, laser, and light show, which outlines and highlights all the high-rises that dominate both sides of the harbor.
Our first stop was the underground Metro station to buy our “Octopus” transit passes…similar to the ‘Oyster’ cards in London. These would allow us easy access to all the buses, trains and ferries in the city. From there we walked through the back streets of Kowloon to the HK Museum of history, which outlined the story of this magical city from its beginnings through the reunification. We were focused on the period in the 1920’s and 30’s, so aimed directly for those areas. The museum has recreated a ‘typical’ street of the time, complete with the pedi-cabs, advertisements, store fronts and costumes that would have been appropriate. There was a great video taken at about the time ‘the boys’ were here, and we could get a real sense of the city in this grainy black and white film. I had hoped to find a knowledgeable archivist who might have identified the pictures which I had carried with me, but it was Saturday, so the young girls at reception volunteered to have someone call me on Monday (when we’re at sea), we’ll see what happens. But I concluded it really didn’t matter since if we took pictures of the modern streets and its bustling business area, we’d be doing the same activities as the boys. The one wonderful piece in the museum we were to find was a 1920’s advertisement for the Hong Kong Hotel, which is where ‘the boys’ stayed. The hotel is history, but the poster lives on…so of course, it was photographed, along with other memorabilia of the time.
After the museum we walked back towards the harbor, stopping for a refreshing glass of beer, under sunny warm skies, with a magnificent view of Hong Kong Island. The “Avenue of the Stars” promenade has been built along the harbors edge, and its goal is to mimic the Hollywood Walk of Fame, where well known Chinese movie actors and actresses have placed their hands in wet cement to be memorialized for all time. Most of the names were unknown to us, but of course we recognized Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee. It was fun to watch Chinese tourists stopping to put their own hands in the memorialized hands of their favorite stars. It being a Saturday there were tourists galore, mostly Asian. We speculated that they could have come from the mainland to tour, or other parts of Asia (but as all our guides reminded us, they may look all alike to us Caucasians).
Refreshed and fortified, we walked past the Museum of Art, and Symphony Hall, and hopped on the iconic Star Ferry to take us across the harbor to HK Island. The ferry just doesn’t change. It’s a simple, efficient system, which with its strangely shaped, double-ended boats leaves every 10 minutes to carry people on open-decked, hard benched seats. No fuss, no muss. Pay your way (mere pennies, or Octopus), rush on board when the gates swing open, find a seat, enjoy the 11 minute ride, and reverse the process on the other side. While there are now three car tunnels, and the Metro, underneath Victoria Harbor to whisk you from one side to the other, there is something wonderfully archaic about using these old-fashioned wooden boats. Daddy spoke of using the ferry in his day, and I’m sure it was a very similar process (minus the automation of the ticketing process).
Our goal was to find the narrow streets which Daddy had photographed along Queen’s Road in the Central district. However, since 1928, Hong Kong has risen up as a brand new city of high rises, glittering neon signs and upscale modern shops. One has to look down narrow alleys and in hidden corners to find that ‘old feel’, which we were trying to photograph. But I realized I simply had to take pictures of modern day people, and modern day storefronts, and I would be replicating the trip appropriate to the year 2011. And so we did. Instead of climbing lots of stairs, there are now moving walkways that carry one straight up narrow steep streets and instead of Pedi-cabs there are millions of taxis, but the sense of mercantile success is everywhere. Hong Kong is a shopper’s paradise and on a Saturday afternoon it was bustling. To keep people off the streets and allow some sense of traffic flow, there are efficient elevated walkways that carry one through the neighborhoods right into the high rise buildings, and luckily all signage is in two languages: Cantonese and English. I think this is not only because this was once a British colony but because the Chinese recognize that this is a tourist Mecca, and they want one to feel comfortable.
After a good two hours of meandering around looking for what we hoped might be familiar sites, we were exhausted. Rather than return to the ship, we hopped on an inter-island ferry taking us, and a great many Asian tourists, to the wonderful little island of Cheung Chau. We had been here in 1995, where we had enjoyed the preparations for the Bun Festival, but this time we simply wanted a relaxing boat ride on the harbor and some fresh sea food. And we accomplished both. We walked from one side of the island harbor to the other, the only Caucasians to be seen. What makes this island so charming is that there is no way to get here but by ferry, and once here there are no motorized vehicles – cars or cycles. The only way to get around is by foot or by old-fashioned bicycle – a welcome change to the hectic world of the metropolis nearby. After looking at all the sidewalk stands selling fresh fish, fried fish, grilled fish or McDonalds, we landed at an open-air, dockside restaurant, where the signage had some English but absolutely no one spoke anything but Chinese. Our menu was a picture book, which we used to point out our choices: a fabulous feast of scallops & broccoli; fried shrimp in hot and sour sauce; and vegetable rolls, washed down with Tsingtao beer (A pilsner based on a German ‘recipe’ from the time when the Germans had concessions in China). Cleanliness at the restaurant was amusing: as we sat down, a bowl of hot water was placed between us – we weren’t sure if it was soup, but we watched others washing their hands, their cups, and bowls, before it was whisked away. Since we weren’t offered napkins, at the end I made the motion that I would like to wash my hands having eaten a bit with my fingers…and we were provided with a nice roll of toilet paper. We smiled, paid our vast bill of $175 HK dollars (Approx. $25.00 American) and headed back to the ferry for a wonderful open-deck, star-lit ride back to HK Island. From the boat we watched the sound and light show, watched the ferries darting through the vast harbor, and felt very content.
After weeks of ship’s tours taking us hither and yon, it was nice to be on our own, in familiar territory doing what we wanted on our own schedule. We rode back to Kowloon on the Star Ferry, and headed immediately to bed. A very full day with lots of walking, lots of photographs, and a delightful series of rides on the water.
Sunday, February 27 – Hong Kong
Another gorgeous sunny warm day greeted us and we knew our mission: go to Repulse Bay, on the other side of HK Island, where ‘the boys’ had stopped for tea at the Repulse Bay Hotel. We ferried across the harbor, hopped on a 6X double-decker bus, and were whisked to the bus stop at the base of the steps of the old hotel. We had been warned in guidebooks that the original structure that had existed now was a re-creation, using some parts of the old hotel, and it is no longer a hotel. At this vantage point overlooking a beautiful bay, and many sandy beaches, there are now two thirty-floor towers holding condominiums. At the exact location of the old hotel are two elegant restaurants and a series of upscale shopping arcades. We had hoped to find some old postcards or memorabilia, not unlike what existed at the Raffles Hotel, in Singapore, or the E&O Hotel, in Penang, but it didn’t exist. What still remained (or has been copied) is the grand set of stairs leading up from the street to the entry of the ‘hotel’ entrance. The same lamp fixtures, planters, and statuary line the stairway leading the guest to the level of the stores and restaurants, and it is there that we took the pictures which closely resemble the ones taken by ‘the boys’ in 1928.
Having accomplished our mission, we shared a cup of iced coffee, hopped back on the 6X bus and headed back to Victoria Harbor, the Star Ferry, and our ship. Our two days were a lot more successful than many of our fellow travelers who were ‘whinging’ about the poor ship’s-tours offered in HK. Some had been promised a shopping adventure and high tea on the Veranda at Repulse Bay, which turned instead into a visit to the very touristy Stanley Market and a cup of tea at a nearby restaurant (no scones or cucumber sandwiches, thank you very much).
There have been many ship’s tours on this journey which have left something to be desired. They are not inexpensive, and it is clear that this is where the ship makes a good deal of money (other than the bar bills), but the quality of the tours has been distinctly mixed.
Since we wanted to watch the light show from the top deck of our ship, as we pulled out of our berth, we enjoyed a late dinner at a ‘shared table’ at 8:45. We have done little of this since we’ve been with our friend Doris, but she was not with us so we joined two Danish couples and one German couple for a lively dinner. Everyone is well-traveled, everyone had a good sense of humor and the common languages were either English or German. It is these serendipitous dinners that allow for wonderful new connections and very interesting conversations.
Tomorrow is a day at sea, as we head to Taipei, so we will mail this off before Japan where use of the ship’s satellite system is forbidden and therefore internet, cell and telephone service will be unavailable for two days. (I could haul the laptop on shore to an internet cafe, but being lazy, I’ll probably wait until we’re back to Shanghai, on mainland China, to send the next blog entries.
Hong Kong was all that we wanted it to be. The weather was warm and sunny without being hot, everyone was in a week-end mood wherever we went, and all the changes which we feared may have changed the city since the re-unification with China were not visible. Our ship was docked on the Kowloon side of the harbor right next to the Star Ferry Terminal which made life amazingly easy. As one left the ship, the gangway actually led us right into the second level of the Ocean Terminal Shopping Mall – a very upscale emporium where every HK citizen seemed to be shopping or window browsing.
This being the first of the cities which actually is part of Daddy’s trip, we read over his and Walter’s Hong Kong letters before we arrived. The letters pretty much drove our two days, from our arrival (where we were up on deck at 7am snapping pictures), to the evening departure where we were again on deck enjoying the sound, laser, and light show, which outlines and highlights all the high-rises that dominate both sides of the harbor.
Our first stop was the underground Metro station to buy our “Octopus” transit passes…similar to the ‘Oyster’ cards in London. These would allow us easy access to all the buses, trains and ferries in the city. From there we walked through the back streets of Kowloon to the HK Museum of history, which outlined the story of this magical city from its beginnings through the reunification. We were focused on the period in the 1920’s and 30’s, so aimed directly for those areas. The museum has recreated a ‘typical’ street of the time, complete with the pedi-cabs, advertisements, store fronts and costumes that would have been appropriate. There was a great video taken at about the time ‘the boys’ were here, and we could get a real sense of the city in this grainy black and white film. I had hoped to find a knowledgeable archivist who might have identified the pictures which I had carried with me, but it was Saturday, so the young girls at reception volunteered to have someone call me on Monday (when we’re at sea), we’ll see what happens. But I concluded it really didn’t matter since if we took pictures of the modern streets and its bustling business area, we’d be doing the same activities as the boys. The one wonderful piece in the museum we were to find was a 1920’s advertisement for the Hong Kong Hotel, which is where ‘the boys’ stayed. The hotel is history, but the poster lives on…so of course, it was photographed, along with other memorabilia of the time.
After the museum we walked back towards the harbor, stopping for a refreshing glass of beer, under sunny warm skies, with a magnificent view of Hong Kong Island. The “Avenue of the Stars” promenade has been built along the harbors edge, and its goal is to mimic the Hollywood Walk of Fame, where well known Chinese movie actors and actresses have placed their hands in wet cement to be memorialized for all time. Most of the names were unknown to us, but of course we recognized Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee. It was fun to watch Chinese tourists stopping to put their own hands in the memorialized hands of their favorite stars. It being a Saturday there were tourists galore, mostly Asian. We speculated that they could have come from the mainland to tour, or other parts of Asia (but as all our guides reminded us, they may look all alike to us Caucasians).
Refreshed and fortified, we walked past the Museum of Art, and Symphony Hall, and hopped on the iconic Star Ferry to take us across the harbor to HK Island. The ferry just doesn’t change. It’s a simple, efficient system, which with its strangely shaped, double-ended boats leaves every 10 minutes to carry people on open-decked, hard benched seats. No fuss, no muss. Pay your way (mere pennies, or Octopus), rush on board when the gates swing open, find a seat, enjoy the 11 minute ride, and reverse the process on the other side. While there are now three car tunnels, and the Metro, underneath Victoria Harbor to whisk you from one side to the other, there is something wonderfully archaic about using these old-fashioned wooden boats. Daddy spoke of using the ferry in his day, and I’m sure it was a very similar process (minus the automation of the ticketing process).
Our goal was to find the narrow streets which Daddy had photographed along Queen’s Road in the Central district. However, since 1928, Hong Kong has risen up as a brand new city of high rises, glittering neon signs and upscale modern shops. One has to look down narrow alleys and in hidden corners to find that ‘old feel’, which we were trying to photograph. But I realized I simply had to take pictures of modern day people, and modern day storefronts, and I would be replicating the trip appropriate to the year 2011. And so we did. Instead of climbing lots of stairs, there are now moving walkways that carry one straight up narrow steep streets and instead of Pedi-cabs there are millions of taxis, but the sense of mercantile success is everywhere. Hong Kong is a shopper’s paradise and on a Saturday afternoon it was bustling. To keep people off the streets and allow some sense of traffic flow, there are efficient elevated walkways that carry one through the neighborhoods right into the high rise buildings, and luckily all signage is in two languages: Cantonese and English. I think this is not only because this was once a British colony but because the Chinese recognize that this is a tourist Mecca, and they want one to feel comfortable.
After a good two hours of meandering around looking for what we hoped might be familiar sites, we were exhausted. Rather than return to the ship, we hopped on an inter-island ferry taking us, and a great many Asian tourists, to the wonderful little island of Cheung Chau. We had been here in 1995, where we had enjoyed the preparations for the Bun Festival, but this time we simply wanted a relaxing boat ride on the harbor and some fresh sea food. And we accomplished both. We walked from one side of the island harbor to the other, the only Caucasians to be seen. What makes this island so charming is that there is no way to get here but by ferry, and once here there are no motorized vehicles – cars or cycles. The only way to get around is by foot or by old-fashioned bicycle – a welcome change to the hectic world of the metropolis nearby. After looking at all the sidewalk stands selling fresh fish, fried fish, grilled fish or McDonalds, we landed at an open-air, dockside restaurant, where the signage had some English but absolutely no one spoke anything but Chinese. Our menu was a picture book, which we used to point out our choices: a fabulous feast of scallops & broccoli; fried shrimp in hot and sour sauce; and vegetable rolls, washed down with Tsingtao beer (A pilsner based on a German ‘recipe’ from the time when the Germans had concessions in China). Cleanliness at the restaurant was amusing: as we sat down, a bowl of hot water was placed between us – we weren’t sure if it was soup, but we watched others washing their hands, their cups, and bowls, before it was whisked away. Since we weren’t offered napkins, at the end I made the motion that I would like to wash my hands having eaten a bit with my fingers…and we were provided with a nice roll of toilet paper. We smiled, paid our vast bill of $175 HK dollars (Approx. $25.00 American) and headed back to the ferry for a wonderful open-deck, star-lit ride back to HK Island. From the boat we watched the sound and light show, watched the ferries darting through the vast harbor, and felt very content.
After weeks of ship’s tours taking us hither and yon, it was nice to be on our own, in familiar territory doing what we wanted on our own schedule. We rode back to Kowloon on the Star Ferry, and headed immediately to bed. A very full day with lots of walking, lots of photographs, and a delightful series of rides on the water.
Sunday, February 27 – Hong Kong
Another gorgeous sunny warm day greeted us and we knew our mission: go to Repulse Bay, on the other side of HK Island, where ‘the boys’ had stopped for tea at the Repulse Bay Hotel. We ferried across the harbor, hopped on a 6X double-decker bus, and were whisked to the bus stop at the base of the steps of the old hotel. We had been warned in guidebooks that the original structure that had existed now was a re-creation, using some parts of the old hotel, and it is no longer a hotel. At this vantage point overlooking a beautiful bay, and many sandy beaches, there are now two thirty-floor towers holding condominiums. At the exact location of the old hotel are two elegant restaurants and a series of upscale shopping arcades. We had hoped to find some old postcards or memorabilia, not unlike what existed at the Raffles Hotel, in Singapore, or the E&O Hotel, in Penang, but it didn’t exist. What still remained (or has been copied) is the grand set of stairs leading up from the street to the entry of the ‘hotel’ entrance. The same lamp fixtures, planters, and statuary line the stairway leading the guest to the level of the stores and restaurants, and it is there that we took the pictures which closely resemble the ones taken by ‘the boys’ in 1928.
Having accomplished our mission, we shared a cup of iced coffee, hopped back on the 6X bus and headed back to Victoria Harbor, the Star Ferry, and our ship. Our two days were a lot more successful than many of our fellow travelers who were ‘whinging’ about the poor ship’s-tours offered in HK. Some had been promised a shopping adventure and high tea on the Veranda at Repulse Bay, which turned instead into a visit to the very touristy Stanley Market and a cup of tea at a nearby restaurant (no scones or cucumber sandwiches, thank you very much).
There have been many ship’s tours on this journey which have left something to be desired. They are not inexpensive, and it is clear that this is where the ship makes a good deal of money (other than the bar bills), but the quality of the tours has been distinctly mixed.
Since we wanted to watch the light show from the top deck of our ship, as we pulled out of our berth, we enjoyed a late dinner at a ‘shared table’ at 8:45. We have done little of this since we’ve been with our friend Doris, but she was not with us so we joined two Danish couples and one German couple for a lively dinner. Everyone is well-traveled, everyone had a good sense of humor and the common languages were either English or German. It is these serendipitous dinners that allow for wonderful new connections and very interesting conversations.
Tomorrow is a day at sea, as we head to Taipei, so we will mail this off before Japan where use of the ship’s satellite system is forbidden and therefore internet, cell and telephone service will be unavailable for two days. (I could haul the laptop on shore to an internet cafe, but being lazy, I’ll probably wait until we’re back to Shanghai, on mainland China, to send the next blog entries.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Feb. 19-23 - Saigon and Ha Long Bay
Saturday, Feb. 19th – Ho Chi Minh City
An early start to our day as we headed to our semi-air conditioned bus on a truly hot and humid day here in Viet Nam. Our tour was nicely called “Good Morning Viet Nam” and so while the war is history here, and is now called “The American War”, many Americans wanted to see the sites associated with the war.
Our guide was Kwok and as a 35 year old married to a British woman, these tours are interesting but he was too young to remember any of the war. We drove past the empty lot which once contained the American Embassy, and headed to the National War Museum. It has a distinct slant to its portrayal of the war, but in hindsight it was quite accurate as to America’s part in this war. The pictures were graphic, the rhetoric strong, and we left after fifty minutes to re-board the bus…working our way through the many street vendors who had ‘treasures’ galore. I became the proud owner of a brilliant red and royal blue “silk” robe, which delighted me. The bargaining took it from $20.00 to $8.00. I was pleased with the price. I’m sure it could have been less, but when you think of what it’s worth to you, and how much these people have to work to make any money, I tend to stop when I am satisfied and feel I’m getting value for my money. After you think of what we paid for the cruise, and the tour, arguing over a dollar or two seems downright petty.
We now took a long bus ride through the city and its suburbs…past Gen. Westmoreland’s former headquarters…past the former Ton Son Nut Air Base…through the jungle along the Saigon River that had been heavily “carpet-bombed “by B-52’s (now rubber plantations)…to our luncheon in an outdoor garden restaurant, where we sat in little gazebos which held eight patrons to a table. Sitting by a swift running stream we dined on wonderful Vietnamese food & beer, until we were stuffed. Then back to the bus for our main event – the Cu Chi Tunnels near the village of Cu Chi. These are tunnels built during the time of the French occupation, but reused to good purpose during the time when America was carpet bombing this area. The tunnels ran throughout the country, and at any one time over 16,000 Viet Cong lived in them.
They were complete communities with seamstresses, kitchens, hospitals, munitions makers, sandal makers and a headquarters. There were three tiers to the tunnels and it allowed the people to go and remain underground to avoid being killed. The intricacies of how to cook without revealing any smoke; how to throw off the dogs by covering areas near the entrances with American shampoo and soup smells; how to make sandals out of old tires and how to re-make new mines & anti-tank weapons from American dud bombs & artillery rounds, all were demonstrated. To ensure that ‘the enemy’ couldn’t come down any of the tunnels, there were ’fake’ entrances which led nowhere, and which were booby-trapped with all manner of truly horrifying, primitive torture weapons…all of which were on graphic display. The tunnel entrances are very tiny, to match the size of your average Vietnamese. These were entirely too tiny for us well-fed, substantial Caucasians. So to allow tourists to have the experience of crawling through the tunnels, a few had been ‘widened’ to meet the more robust stature of the tourists. We had the opportunity to enter a tunnel and to crawl in a duck walk to another entry point. The closest was 10 meters, the furthest was 140 meters. With my bum knee, I chose to watch other braver souls. One gentleman, whom one might call very substantial, got himself pretty well stuck and came out very dirty, with bruises on legs and hands, as he forced his way out.
This tunnel area was hidden amidst what has become a new forest. During the war it was pretty much barren with bomb craters everywhere, but it is now a tourist destination , where the videos at the beginning of the tour once more describe the horrors of the “American War” and the heroism of the Viet Cong.
Thoroughly hot, sticky, and dusty, we gratefully headed back to the bus after two hours, for our ride back to the ship in afternoon rush hour. Unlike any rush hour I’ve ever seen, this one consisted of swarms of motorcyclists with nerves of steel. It was like swarms of mosquitoes at every intersection. Children sat in front of their parents totally oblivious to the fact that life could be very short. Why there aren’t more accidents, I don’t know. Four to Six MILLION cycles in the city, and that’s only a rough guess. Cars are too expensive in this country and so, on these cycles can be carried everything but the kitchen sink. In total awe, I kept snapping pictures out of the bus window. (For those of us who can’t drive a damn scooter, I was in awe).
Our last stop was the “Reunification Palace” of the South Vietnamese leaders who remained for two years, after the departure of the Americans, until in 1975 when the North Viet Nam forces claimed the whole of the country. Vietnam is run by a unified communist party, but the government has become openly sympathetic to capitalism, freedom of religion and private ownership. It is distinctly a one-party system, but there are enough young people to counter the old-style communism exemplified by Ho Chi Minh. The harbor where we are berthed is evidence enough of the slowly growing economy. Rice is the primary export here and dozens of sky scrapers dot the city sky line. The Rex, Continental, and Caravelle Hotels still thrive, but now house businessmen rather than journalists, and you sense that this country has moved on. We kept remarking that if an American soldier returned, he hardly would recognize the city.
Sunday, February 20th – Saigon
With no tours to drive us out early, after breakfast we took the shuttle bus to the Rex Hotel, and wandered the hot and steamy streets looking at the backstreet shops to see what ‘bargains’ we might scarf up. A few local quirks…pedestrians do not have the right-of-way…most major intersections do not have traffic signals, never mind Walk/Don’t Walk. To cross (in a striped crosswalk), you look for a gap in the racing cars, buses and mopeds…and run for your life. We were with 80-yr-old Doris, and she ran like a gazelle. We were all inspired by fear! It definitely gets the adrenaline going. Having concluded that there were no bargains we needed, we stopped at the Lion Brew Pub, near the Caravelle, for a 500mm schooner of beer before returning to the ship. The heat and humidity here can be almost debilitating, and does not leave one enthusiastic to wander. Our next port is Da Nang, which we’re hoping will be a wee bit cooler, but first we have a leisurely day at sea to relax, read and prepare for the next port.
Monday, Feruary 21 – At SeaLittle to report as we slowly sail to the port of Da Nang in the middle of the country. Lecturers on board inform us about what we will see upon arrival, and how to take the correct type of photographs of the memories we want to carry home. Bob and I spent the day reading on our Kindles, staring at the water and enjoying tea & sandwiches in the late afternoon, drinks in the Martini Bar with our friend Doris, and dinner in the Grand Dining room.
Tuesday February 22 – Da Nang
An early morning start as we board Bus Number 3 (of 11) going to Imperial Hue. Our Vietnamese guide is named Doh. The port where we are docked is in the midst of construction and seems to be located between nowhere and nowhere. Doh informed us that in a few years it will be the largest deep-water port in central Viet Nam. The city of Hue, located on the Perfume River about sixty-five kilometers from our pier, was originally the home of many of the early emperors of Viet Nam and while it now is mostly ruins, we thought we might be able to fill our heads with more historical data about this country. Our knowledge to this point, such as it was, had been focused on the “American war” and the towns we bombed or tried to occupy. During the war, Hue was occupied by the Marines, and it is remembered, by us, as the place where they were attacked in the Citadel during the 1968 “Tet Offensive” - the very place which we, now 35+ years later would be visiting as a tourist site, with only a passing mention of the 400 Marines who died here.
Our bus ride was ninety minutes through small villages which were lovely if poor. I was snapping pictures as fast as I could as we drove past brilliant green rice paddies, lagoons where fishing for oysters and shrimp occur, and small vegetable plots.
The government-owned farm land was interspersed with shops lined along the road where the shop faced the road while the back was the living quarters of the shop keeper. Because of the climate, life is lived outdoors and everything is on display from laundry, to women washing dishes, men smoking while repairing tires, building caskets, walking along chatting on their cell phones, soldering metal, or sitting with a coffee outside a small ‘café’. There were plenty of mongrel dogs which seemed to be associated’ with houses, but I couldn’t tell whether they were wild or pets; the water buffalo were primarily in the rice fields where they are used as beasts of burden (and never eaten), while chickens and goats were everywhere. Bicycles & Mopeds were the major mode of transportation, with Japanese scooters favored over Chinese which are deigned to be inferior, if cheaper. The women, many in their conical hats were busy shopping, hauling goods or watching children. While the children either were in school or in front yards following their parents around as they worked. All of life was there for us to observe as we drove slowly through the villages. It was made clear to us by our guide that the role of a woman is to prepare meals for the family, keep the home orderly and to stay home at night watching Korean TV, where they learn hints and tips about housekeeping. The men on the other hand work in the fields or in their shops during the day, and after dinner go out for beer with the boys. As our guide made quite equally clear the fate of the men is to be hen-pecked, while a good woman’s quality includes four key elements: Hard working; of good conduct; refined speech; and the last quality - beauty. I kept thinking about my favorite Vietnamese woman in San Francisco, a woman named Wing, and I wondered how life was for her in Viet Nam prior to her escape at the end of the war…she seems to be the antithesis of the stay-at-home woman now.
Doh, as a good guide, was a very supportive cheer leader of his country. He had joined the Communist party ; was quite clear that only in the last twenty-five years, since economic reforms have been in place, have the local small business men been successful; but was equally clear that the rich were getting richer, and the poor were getting poorer, when the annual income could be as little as $400.00 dollars. He thought that the one party system was just fine and that their form of Communism worked very well. The Chinese, on the other hand are firmly disliked for their oppressive controls on their citizenry.
Once we arrived in Hue, our first stop was a Happy Room where we all went to ‘sing a song’. The next stop was the Imperial Forbidden City. This entire area was bombed to smithereens during the war, but is slowly being restored as best they can. We learned the history of the emperor, his many concubines and mandarins who all lived within the walls of this city, and we admired the restoration work being done where buildings once built in wood are being reconstructed using a good deal of cement which is more durable in this very moist climate.
Once we ran the gauntlet of vendors who were sure we needed fans, lacquer boxes and jewelry, we headed to the Thien Mu Pagoda which is still in use by monks who live there. As in India we saw the sign that is very similar to a swastika but has a wholly different symbolism in the Buddhist faith. We had seen on the road to Hue, a Buddhist monk whose goal is to walk the entire length of Viet Nam from north to south on Highway One…’kowtowing’ every few feet on orange blankets which were being placed in front of him and then removed and advanced by his followers such that as he moved forward he was constantly walking or kneeling on the blankets. Wherever he stops along his route he is greeted and fed by the faithful who follow him for awhile on his journey. Once he reaches the southernmost point, he plans to immolate himself! We never got the rationale behind this, but it allowed our guide to inform us that all religions are tolerated now in Viet Nam.
And now on a lighter note…Lunch was a huge success, served at a local Hue hotel where we were greeted outside by four large dragon dancers, and inside by Viet musicians playing the unique music of this country. Our buffet was a medley of Viet dishes, one better than the next. Our plates seemed to be too small, so we simply refilled them numerous times. Especially good were individually made crispy pancakes, stuffed with shrimp & pork, and coated in a peanut sauce. Then, off we went to the last two sites: the tomb of Tu Duc, an emperor who served for thirty five years, and who was buried somewhere on the grounds of this area, but no one is clear where. The tomb exists, but as prior explorers discovered, there was no body beneath the tomb. At this point I had had a few too many stone stairs, so I camped by a small lake while the rest of our bus tour got the data, I sat with a lovely eighty-one year old gentleman from Sweden who has been everywhere, and while he moves a bit slower doesn’t want to miss any of this tour.
With a last stop for shopping at a stall making and selling conical hats and incense, we drove back to the ship past evening shopping areas, more goats, water buffalo, bicycles and scooters, arriving back at the ship in late afternoon.
My knowledge of Viet history was nil before we arrived, and it’s now a bit more than nil.
I’ve been writing this up in the Horizon Lounge overlooking the water as we sail past Haiphong, and enter Ha Long Bay… and all around there are discussions about grandchildren, hair styles, where people live and where people have been on prior cruises. It’s a gentle murmur behind me as I try to write this blog.
An early start to our day as we headed to our semi-air conditioned bus on a truly hot and humid day here in Viet Nam. Our tour was nicely called “Good Morning Viet Nam” and so while the war is history here, and is now called “The American War”, many Americans wanted to see the sites associated with the war.
Our guide was Kwok and as a 35 year old married to a British woman, these tours are interesting but he was too young to remember any of the war. We drove past the empty lot which once contained the American Embassy, and headed to the National War Museum. It has a distinct slant to its portrayal of the war, but in hindsight it was quite accurate as to America’s part in this war. The pictures were graphic, the rhetoric strong, and we left after fifty minutes to re-board the bus…working our way through the many street vendors who had ‘treasures’ galore. I became the proud owner of a brilliant red and royal blue “silk” robe, which delighted me. The bargaining took it from $20.00 to $8.00. I was pleased with the price. I’m sure it could have been less, but when you think of what it’s worth to you, and how much these people have to work to make any money, I tend to stop when I am satisfied and feel I’m getting value for my money. After you think of what we paid for the cruise, and the tour, arguing over a dollar or two seems downright petty.
We now took a long bus ride through the city and its suburbs…past Gen. Westmoreland’s former headquarters…past the former Ton Son Nut Air Base…through the jungle along the Saigon River that had been heavily “carpet-bombed “by B-52’s (now rubber plantations)…to our luncheon in an outdoor garden restaurant, where we sat in little gazebos which held eight patrons to a table. Sitting by a swift running stream we dined on wonderful Vietnamese food & beer, until we were stuffed. Then back to the bus for our main event – the Cu Chi Tunnels near the village of Cu Chi. These are tunnels built during the time of the French occupation, but reused to good purpose during the time when America was carpet bombing this area. The tunnels ran throughout the country, and at any one time over 16,000 Viet Cong lived in them.
This tunnel area was hidden amidst what has become a new forest. During the war it was pretty much barren with bomb craters everywhere, but it is now a tourist destination , where the videos at the beginning of the tour once more describe the horrors of the “American War” and the heroism of the Viet Cong.
Our last stop was the “Reunification Palace” of the South Vietnamese leaders who remained for two years, after the departure of the Americans, until in 1975 when the North Viet Nam forces claimed the whole of the country. Vietnam is run by a unified communist party, but the government has become openly sympathetic to capitalism, freedom of religion and private ownership. It is distinctly a one-party system, but there are enough young people to counter the old-style communism exemplified by Ho Chi Minh. The harbor where we are berthed is evidence enough of the slowly growing economy. Rice is the primary export here and dozens of sky scrapers dot the city sky line. The Rex, Continental, and Caravelle Hotels still thrive, but now house businessmen rather than journalists, and you sense that this country has moved on. We kept remarking that if an American soldier returned, he hardly would recognize the city.
Sunday, February 20th – Saigon
With no tours to drive us out early, after breakfast we took the shuttle bus to the Rex Hotel, and wandered the hot and steamy streets looking at the backstreet shops to see what ‘bargains’ we might scarf up. A few local quirks…pedestrians do not have the right-of-way…most major intersections do not have traffic signals, never mind Walk/Don’t Walk. To cross (in a striped crosswalk), you look for a gap in the racing cars, buses and mopeds…and run for your life. We were with 80-yr-old Doris, and she ran like a gazelle. We were all inspired by fear! It definitely gets the adrenaline going. Having concluded that there were no bargains we needed, we stopped at the Lion Brew Pub, near the Caravelle, for a 500mm schooner of beer before returning to the ship. The heat and humidity here can be almost debilitating, and does not leave one enthusiastic to wander. Our next port is Da Nang, which we’re hoping will be a wee bit cooler, but first we have a leisurely day at sea to relax, read and prepare for the next port.
Monday, Feruary 21 – At SeaLittle to report as we slowly sail to the port of Da Nang in the middle of the country. Lecturers on board inform us about what we will see upon arrival, and how to take the correct type of photographs of the memories we want to carry home. Bob and I spent the day reading on our Kindles, staring at the water and enjoying tea & sandwiches in the late afternoon, drinks in the Martini Bar with our friend Doris, and dinner in the Grand Dining room.
Tuesday February 22 – Da Nang
An early morning start as we board Bus Number 3 (of 11) going to Imperial Hue. Our Vietnamese guide is named Doh. The port where we are docked is in the midst of construction and seems to be located between nowhere and nowhere. Doh informed us that in a few years it will be the largest deep-water port in central Viet Nam. The city of Hue, located on the Perfume River about sixty-five kilometers from our pier, was originally the home of many of the early emperors of Viet Nam and while it now is mostly ruins, we thought we might be able to fill our heads with more historical data about this country. Our knowledge to this point, such as it was, had been focused on the “American war” and the towns we bombed or tried to occupy. During the war, Hue was occupied by the Marines, and it is remembered, by us, as the place where they were attacked in the Citadel during the 1968 “Tet Offensive” - the very place which we, now 35+ years later would be visiting as a tourist site, with only a passing mention of the 400 Marines who died here.
Our bus ride was ninety minutes through small villages which were lovely if poor. I was snapping pictures as fast as I could as we drove past brilliant green rice paddies, lagoons where fishing for oysters and shrimp occur, and small vegetable plots.
Doh, as a good guide, was a very supportive cheer leader of his country. He had joined the Communist party ; was quite clear that only in the last twenty-five years, since economic reforms have been in place, have the local small business men been successful; but was equally clear that the rich were getting richer, and the poor were getting poorer, when the annual income could be as little as $400.00 dollars. He thought that the one party system was just fine and that their form of Communism worked very well. The Chinese, on the other hand are firmly disliked for their oppressive controls on their citizenry.
Once we arrived in Hue, our first stop was a Happy Room where we all went to ‘sing a song’. The next stop was the Imperial Forbidden City. This entire area was bombed to smithereens during the war, but is slowly being restored as best they can. We learned the history of the emperor, his many concubines and mandarins who all lived within the walls of this city, and we admired the restoration work being done where buildings once built in wood are being reconstructed using a good deal of cement which is more durable in this very moist climate.
Once we ran the gauntlet of vendors who were sure we needed fans, lacquer boxes and jewelry, we headed to the Thien Mu Pagoda which is still in use by monks who live there. As in India we saw the sign that is very similar to a swastika but has a wholly different symbolism in the Buddhist faith. We had seen on the road to Hue, a Buddhist monk whose goal is to walk the entire length of Viet Nam from north to south on Highway One…’kowtowing’ every few feet on orange blankets which were being placed in front of him and then removed and advanced by his followers such that as he moved forward he was constantly walking or kneeling on the blankets. Wherever he stops along his route he is greeted and fed by the faithful who follow him for awhile on his journey. Once he reaches the southernmost point, he plans to immolate himself! We never got the rationale behind this, but it allowed our guide to inform us that all religions are tolerated now in Viet Nam.
And now on a lighter note…Lunch was a huge success, served at a local Hue hotel where we were greeted outside by four large dragon dancers, and inside by Viet musicians playing the unique music of this country. Our buffet was a medley of Viet dishes, one better than the next. Our plates seemed to be too small, so we simply refilled them numerous times. Especially good were individually made crispy pancakes, stuffed with shrimp & pork, and coated in a peanut sauce. Then, off we went to the last two sites: the tomb of Tu Duc, an emperor who served for thirty five years, and who was buried somewhere on the grounds of this area, but no one is clear where. The tomb exists, but as prior explorers discovered, there was no body beneath the tomb. At this point I had had a few too many stone stairs, so I camped by a small lake while the rest of our bus tour got the data, I sat with a lovely eighty-one year old gentleman from Sweden who has been everywhere, and while he moves a bit slower doesn’t want to miss any of this tour.
With a last stop for shopping at a stall making and selling conical hats and incense, we drove back to the ship past evening shopping areas, more goats, water buffalo, bicycles and scooters, arriving back at the ship in late afternoon.
My knowledge of Viet history was nil before we arrived, and it’s now a bit more than nil.
I’ve been writing this up in the Horizon Lounge overlooking the water as we sail past Haiphong, and enter Ha Long Bay… and all around there are discussions about grandchildren, hair styles, where people live and where people have been on prior cruises. It’s a gentle murmur behind me as I try to write this blog.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Thailand Feb.12-17,2011
Sunday, Feb. 13: Bangkok
We had a totally sybaritic, lazy day at the resort. I had my first Thai Sports Massage from a wonderful masseuse named Yo (probably named for my favorite cellist in the world). She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, and looked quite demure, but my god, I would not want to run into her in a dark alley. She had hands of steel. I had a ninety minute piece of heaven, or what was called a deep tissue massage. Never have I enjoyed anything as much, and if I hadn’t felt like a bowl of jelly, I would have done another ninety minutes. Instead I collapsed at the pool.
I don’t know if it’s the heat or the pleasure in having no to-do lists, but I have fallen into a state of torpor that leaves me feeling that the slightest activity requires entirely too much energy and should be put off for the time being until something pushes me to act. It is a fabulous feeling.
Monday, Feb. 14: Saint Valentine’s Day
I’m not quite sure why, but this very Buddhist country has gone out whole-hog for this very Christian saint and all that he represents. The daily paper listed all the places to dine for a romantic evening, the stores were advertising all manner of sexy garments to be worn and everyone was having ‘specials’ to honor the day. Our hotel was offering elegant dining in all its venues, and wherever you walked they were wishing you Happy Valentine’s Day. It is this merging of East and West which both gives comfort and frustrates me because of the blending of all holidays and events. It’s not like there are tons of Western residents here in Bangkok and it makes me wonder when we, in Vermont, will start celebrating Chinese New Year.
We hopped on our hotel’s shuttle boat, switched to a ‘local’ boat at Saphan Taksin, the central boat pier, and headed towards the Imperial Palace. The river is the most relaxing way to get between two points since it avoids traffic jams and gets one to critical points in a wonderfully leisurely manner. It is not unlike riding on trains in that from the river you see the ‘backside’ of most places, which isn’t always the most attractive. But it was the cooler way to travel and we were delighted to pay our 18 baht (six cents) to travel eight stops to the pier for the palace.
Through narrow stalls selling water and tourist trash we walked to the very well guarded palace, with an army of fellow tourists. With our audio tour glued to our ears, we wandered through the Wat Phra Kaew temple area, home of the Emerald Buddha, and through the ceremonial, and residential areas of the palace. The entire complex was built in the late 1700’s after the old capitol and its palace in Ayutthaya had been burned to the ground by the Burmese in 1767. This new palace complex was built in a similar layout to the old: surrounded by water; the public temple available to all; the residential area open only recently to tourists. “The King and I” was evident everywhere: the brilliant colors, the outrageously
ornate costumes, the monkey statues; the glitter and gold. There is nothing subtle in the decoration.
The current king, very beloved by all Thai people, is Rama the IX. The king who hired Anna was Rama the IV, and his son, Rama V, trained by Anna and others is the one who brought much of modern-day western culture to Thailand. The story told by guides is that because Rama V bought his first car in England, all roads in Thailand are designed like England to be driven on the ‘wrong side’ of the road.
To be honest, neither Bob nor I could truly appreciate this temple area; so that once our walking tour ended we headed back to the boat and back to our hotel for a cool swim in the pool. Somehow visiting another Wat was not going to be in our future.
Some of the things that stood out to remind us that we were in a foreign land were: the signs along both sides of the river ferry boat, informing the citizenry in Thai and English that certain areas were ‘reserved for monks’; the many Wats that dot the skyline with their sharp peaked gold-painted roofs which blend in with the modern high rises; the colorful longtail boats which skim the water making as much noise as possible; the prayerful gesture of greeting among people; the signage which is totally unrecognizable to us and for which there often is no direct translation; and the clash among super modern, traditional, and ancient at every turn.
Bob crashed early and I took myself for a solo valentine’s dinner to the Benihana Restaurant in the hotel. My fellow teppanyaki table mates were two girls traveling from Hong Kong for a week of massages, and a young couple from Bangkok who spent the entire evening on their cell phones texting with their friends ,who were obviously dining in other locations. Cell phone culture can go just a wee bit too far, when a romantic evening dinner has the adoring couple staring at cell phone text messages through every course. The most amusing part was that our table chef was a woman – the only one in the restaurant. She threw knives, chopped with vigor and did all that is expected in the Benihana performance …and we enjoyed every minute.
And so ends our visit to Bangkok – the first of what I hope will be future visits.
Feb. 15: Boarding of the Oceania Nautica
The usual flurry of packing, checking out, finding a taxi and boarding the ship was done smoothly. Now we’re truly unpacked and ready for the next 25 days of new harbors, new cities and new experiences. We’ve caught up with Doris Litton in the Martini Bar, our fellow traveler from the last trip in late 2009, and shared our first round of cocktails. We are scoping out our fellow travelers trying to get a sense of the populace. I’d guess the number one difference from our last cruise on Nautica, is that this crowd seems old. Even Doris, at the young age of 80, thinks there are too many old people on board. Will we ever consider ourselves old? And how will we recognize that time when we’ve become ‘those’ people we’re trying to avoid? Here’s what we do know already: Americans represent less than a third of the guests, with the other two thirds being all nationalities. The staff is all new, except for a few faces including the cruise director, Dottie. But all in all it’s a familiar and comfortable ambience and there’s that pleasure in knowing your way around while others are still trying to figure out what’s where.
Feb. 16: Ayutthaya, Thailand
And what would this have looked like in 1927-1928. I can only imagine.
Feb. 17: Ko Samui, Thailand
We had a totally sybaritic, lazy day at the resort. I had my first Thai Sports Massage from a wonderful masseuse named Yo (probably named for my favorite cellist in the world). She couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, and looked quite demure, but my god, I would not want to run into her in a dark alley. She had hands of steel. I had a ninety minute piece of heaven, or what was called a deep tissue massage. Never have I enjoyed anything as much, and if I hadn’t felt like a bowl of jelly, I would have done another ninety minutes. Instead I collapsed at the pool.
I don’t know if it’s the heat or the pleasure in having no to-do lists, but I have fallen into a state of torpor that leaves me feeling that the slightest activity requires entirely too much energy and should be put off for the time being until something pushes me to act. It is a fabulous feeling.
Monday, Feb. 14: Saint Valentine’s Day
I’m not quite sure why, but this very Buddhist country has gone out whole-hog for this very Christian saint and all that he represents. The daily paper listed all the places to dine for a romantic evening, the stores were advertising all manner of sexy garments to be worn and everyone was having ‘specials’ to honor the day. Our hotel was offering elegant dining in all its venues, and wherever you walked they were wishing you Happy Valentine’s Day. It is this merging of East and West which both gives comfort and frustrates me because of the blending of all holidays and events. It’s not like there are tons of Western residents here in Bangkok and it makes me wonder when we, in Vermont, will start celebrating Chinese New Year.
We hopped on our hotel’s shuttle boat, switched to a ‘local’ boat at Saphan Taksin, the central boat pier, and headed towards the Imperial Palace. The river is the most relaxing way to get between two points since it avoids traffic jams and gets one to critical points in a wonderfully leisurely manner. It is not unlike riding on trains in that from the river you see the ‘backside’ of most places, which isn’t always the most attractive. But it was the cooler way to travel and we were delighted to pay our 18 baht (six cents) to travel eight stops to the pier for the palace.
Through narrow stalls selling water and tourist trash we walked to the very well guarded palace, with an army of fellow tourists. With our audio tour glued to our ears, we wandered through the Wat Phra Kaew temple area, home of the Emerald Buddha, and through the ceremonial, and residential areas of the palace. The entire complex was built in the late 1700’s after the old capitol and its palace in Ayutthaya had been burned to the ground by the Burmese in 1767. This new palace complex was built in a similar layout to the old: surrounded by water; the public temple available to all; the residential area open only recently to tourists. “The King and I” was evident everywhere: the brilliant colors, the outrageously
The current king, very beloved by all Thai people, is Rama the IX. The king who hired Anna was Rama the IV, and his son, Rama V, trained by Anna and others is the one who brought much of modern-day western culture to Thailand. The story told by guides is that because Rama V bought his first car in England, all roads in Thailand are designed like England to be driven on the ‘wrong side’ of the road.
To be honest, neither Bob nor I could truly appreciate this temple area; so that once our walking tour ended we headed back to the boat and back to our hotel for a cool swim in the pool. Somehow visiting another Wat was not going to be in our future.
Some of the things that stood out to remind us that we were in a foreign land were: the signs along both sides of the river ferry boat, informing the citizenry in Thai and English that certain areas were ‘reserved for monks’; the many Wats that dot the skyline with their sharp peaked gold-painted roofs which blend in with the modern high rises; the colorful longtail boats which skim the water making as much noise as possible; the prayerful gesture of greeting among people; the signage which is totally unrecognizable to us and for which there often is no direct translation; and the clash among super modern, traditional, and ancient at every turn.
Bob crashed early and I took myself for a solo valentine’s dinner to the Benihana Restaurant in the hotel. My fellow teppanyaki table mates were two girls traveling from Hong Kong for a week of massages, and a young couple from Bangkok who spent the entire evening on their cell phones texting with their friends ,who were obviously dining in other locations. Cell phone culture can go just a wee bit too far, when a romantic evening dinner has the adoring couple staring at cell phone text messages through every course. The most amusing part was that our table chef was a woman – the only one in the restaurant. She threw knives, chopped with vigor and did all that is expected in the Benihana performance …and we enjoyed every minute.
And so ends our visit to Bangkok – the first of what I hope will be future visits.
Feb. 15: Boarding of the Oceania Nautica
The usual flurry of packing, checking out, finding a taxi and boarding the ship was done smoothly. Now we’re truly unpacked and ready for the next 25 days of new harbors, new cities and new experiences. We’ve caught up with Doris Litton in the Martini Bar, our fellow traveler from the last trip in late 2009, and shared our first round of cocktails. We are scoping out our fellow travelers trying to get a sense of the populace. I’d guess the number one difference from our last cruise on Nautica, is that this crowd seems old. Even Doris, at the young age of 80, thinks there are too many old people on board. Will we ever consider ourselves old? And how will we recognize that time when we’ve become ‘those’ people we’re trying to avoid? Here’s what we do know already: Americans represent less than a third of the guests, with the other two thirds being all nationalities. The staff is all new, except for a few faces including the cruise director, Dottie. But all in all it’s a familiar and comfortable ambience and there’s that pleasure in knowing your way around while others are still trying to figure out what’s where.
Feb. 16: Ayutthaya, Thailand
Very bright and early, we met our tour group at 7:00 a.m., hopped onto our air conditioned bus and headed out of Bangkok to visit the ruins of the first capitol of Thailand – Ayutthaya. Our guide with the Americanized name of Tee, filled our sleepy heads with data as we drove out of the city. The Thai take great pride in their country and very few leave it during their lifetimes. It is an amazingly peaceful place where bloodless coups occur to change the government, but the king, who is pretty much a figurehead as in England, remains in place and steps in only when things need to be calmed down. Having never been colonized by any foreign power and where border skirmishes are the only form of altercation, one begins to understand how the population is able to exude a quality of being a peaceful, gentle society.
Again, Bob and I could honor the depth of feeling people have for these temples and ruins, but for us it carried little significance …and so we dutifully followed Tee from site to site, ending our tour with an elephant ride around the temple areas we had just walked. Unlike my elephant rides in India, where we sat side-saddle, here we sat on a two-person ‘howda’ facing forward with the mahout sitting on the neck of the beast guiding it with gentle instructions.
We headed home in “lush hour’ (Tee did not have the ability to say the letter ‘r’), learning about tapioca ‘loot’, and waiting for our first ‘dink’ of the evening. One sad story showing the danger of internationalization was that many of the local food stands and markets which currently dot the landscape are all being replaced by 7-eleven and Tesco grocery stores. While people despair at the loss of historic floating markets, which are now completely gone from Bangkok, the modern day culture draws people to the convenience stores, and threatens to destroy another piece of old Thailand. And what would this have looked like in 1927-1928. I can only imagine.
Feb. 17: Ko Samui, Thailand
Having left Bangkok, down the winding Chao Phraya River, our ship sailed south into the Gulf of Thailand heading to the resort island of Ko Samui. Until 1970 this was a quiet jungle island raising coconuts, rubber trees and rice. Now it is one long stretch of beach resorts, golf courses and beach bars. But we were here for an ‘Island Safari Adventure’ in 4-wheel drive Land Rovers: to see rubber plants being tapped; to see a monkey, Thai cooking, and elephant show; and to ride an elephant through the jungle. Let’s simply say that we did all this, under the guidance of our tour leader Sak, but that value for money was not returned. Having seen better rubber plantations last year in Phuket, and having ridden elephants before…this day of a Safari Adventure left a wee bit to be desired. We felt sad for the monkeys having to perform, sadder for the elephants, and in general, sad that we’d participated.
Probably the one amusing part was when various members of our tour group, braver than we, were prepared to be ‘massaged’ by an elephant. To see the large foot of an elephant rest gently upon the back (and then front) of a small human being makes one just a wee bit nervous. What if the gentle beast decided to put just a bit more weight on that foot? Hmmm…would travel insurance have covered that?
So, back to our ship to have a much needed Pina Colada, and a even more necessary shower. Today was an insult to man and animal alike.
And so ends our quick journey to Thailand …land of rice, tapioca, rubber trees, nice people and Wats.
Next stop: Good Morning Viet Nam!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Travel & Arrival in Bangkok
Friday - February 11, 2011 – Bangkok Thailand
OK, so we left home at noon on Monday, February 7th, and now it’s 7:00 pm on Friday February 11th – and what have we done? Traveled. An amazing set of uneventful days in which we were blessed with absolutely perfect weather, smooth connections and delightful rest stops along the way. But still…. the whole journey was a wee bit on the long side. Monday: having checked and double checked that we’d left nothing behind, we loaded up the Honda, kissed the cats, and left Vermont heading south to sleep in Darien with the kids. Tuesday: a limousine took us to a hotel near JFK to get a ‘good night’s sleep’. Wednesday: up bright and cheery at the ridiculous hour of 3:00 a.m. to begin one of the longest series of plane rides I’ve ever experienced: JFK to Los Angeles to Narita airport in Tokyo, Japan… to Bangkok, Thailand. A total of 36 hours of air travel! Let’s just say that for those of us unable to sleep on airplanes, those hours filled with movies, reading, Sudoku and crossword puzzles seemed endless.
What is somewhat sad about modern day travel is that for all that distance and all the hours spent getting between two places, all airports, all roads leading to and from airports, and all official signage seemed very similar be it in Thailand, Japan or Los Angeles. Our fellow travelers, be they Thai, Japanese, Chinese, American or other, all behaved the same: their mobile phones were an appendage to their ears; their wheelies never fit comfortably in the overhead compartments; their lap tops were in use at every possible moment, and the veneer of necessary civility made everyone ‘play nice’ as we flew to exotic places. Even EASY PASS existed at toll booths as we whisked our way to our hotel in Bangkok.
Unlike travel in 1927, the visible differences, which add to the romance of arriving in a new country, are almost non-existent. This might be considered a good thing in the world of globalization: that comfort of knowing that the signs will be clearly marked (in English along with the local national language); that check in and upgrades and security announcements will be handled identically, and that only the food courts in the airports will help to remind us that we are somewhere ‘different’. But I wanted more.
As we drove from the airport in Bangkok, I kept looking out the windows, through bleary eyes, trying to find those differences that would tell me I had traveled 5000 miles: advertisements for Compaq or HP gave no hint, and large office structures near the highway could have placed me anywhere. But there were small things that told me that we were not in Kansas anymore: little gold statuettes along the road placed along the cement guard rails; overpass structures designed to look like Thai temples; pictures of the revered King; others of the chief of police located at strategic places; lush and unique vegetation; and the climate - we were in the tropics and at midnight it was 76 degrees and balmy.
We were courteously taken to our room by a most obsequious and polite gentleman in a suit, and pretended that we actually were listening to him as he gave us information on hotel amenities, which buttons to push, or not ,for various purposes, where the coffee machine was located etc. Without a moment’s hesitation, we fell out of our clothes and into our bed, and awoke thirteen hours later at 3:00pm on Friday.
And here we are. We’ve read the local English language newspapers which remind us of the real world: the current conflict between Thailand and Cambodia; the imminent parting of Mubarak in Egypt; the drought in China, and nothing, absolutely nothing, about Lindsay Lohan or Charlie Sheen. Having read the hotel’s information booklet to be sure I knew what was what, I enjoyed a most curious note under the topic of ‘guest Courtesy’: “Various fruits and perishable food items that may create strong odors are not permitted in guest rooms, such as durian, jack fruit, etc.” I promise that once we figure out what these are, I will avoid these fine delicacies so as not offend the delicate noses of our fellow travelers.
Having scoped out the layout of the resort, we enjoyed a simple but satisfying dinner on a pier, and with the next wave of tiredness, headed back to bed. Twelve hours of difference between Vermont and Bangkok will take a few days to conquer.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
We thought we’d have a bundle of energy having slept entirely too many hours, so we joined our fellow travelers for a relatively early breakfast – a nice mélange of every possible food choice: Asian noodles; sushi; salad, fresh fruit – NO DURIAN - waffles and syrup, eggs and toast. You ask for it, and the buffet provided it. We sat outside on the patio enjoying the warmth, people-watching and trying to put a story around each grouping, and deciding out plan of attack for the day. Markets and Jim Thompson’s House were on the agenda.
We took the hotel’s courtesy boat - designed to look like an old Thai royal barge - and traveled down the Chao Phraya River along with colorful longtail boats available for tourists, tow boats hauling cement barges, and other hotel boats heading for the central dock closest to the Sky train. As we started toward the train, a young man who worked at our hotel suggested that the market today was probably not a great idea since there were to be Red Shirt demonstrations going on around the market area. So not wanting to get too involved with the politics of Thailand, we chose to head for the Jim Thompson House instead.
Thompson, an American working for the military and the OSS, fell in love with Bangkok and has been personally credited with reviving the Thai Silk market which was dying out with the loss of skilled craftsmen. He turned this passion and his love for Thailand into a thriving business which exists now in cities all over Southeast Asia. His home, a wonderful complex made up of five different houses which he restored and merged, represent traditional Thai architecture enhanced with American ingenuity. The mystery which surrounds him adds to the allure of the place – at the age of 61 (an inauspicious number according to his horoscope) he disappeared while visiting Malaysia and has never been found. But his non-profit foundation which he started, the silk production and sales which he encouraged, and the compound he so lovingly created speak to the power which one man can have on a country. It was well worth the visit. A delightful lunch of cooling Spring Rolls and Tiger Beer topped it off.
But that was pretty much it. Having conquered the sky train and the steamy hot streets, and having avoided demonstrations, we were exhausted. So back to the hotel by boat for a another cooling drink by the pool before another nap.
Part of me feels guilty that we’re not doing more, but the other half says, ‘hey, we’re on vacation and can do as much or as little as we want’. We still have enough days here in Bangkok to see the highlights, and maybe that’s all we really need to do. There were times in the past when I would have driven myself to do much more, conquer more geography, visit more sites, find new adventures…but today, all I really want to do is relax.
I do so love being in truly foreign places where the challenges of map-reading, communicating, and figuring out transportation while watching everything from people to buildings to signs makes the mind feel very acute: Is this the right place to find the train? Is that group of people sleeping on the road going to be ok? Are those stray dogs going to ignore us? Does that word mean Coke or Pepsi? Are we going in the right direction? But at the same time, I’m very glad to retreat to the familiar, and turn off the antenna for a while.
OK, so we left home at noon on Monday, February 7th, and now it’s 7:00 pm on Friday February 11th – and what have we done? Traveled. An amazing set of uneventful days in which we were blessed with absolutely perfect weather, smooth connections and delightful rest stops along the way. But still…. the whole journey was a wee bit on the long side. Monday: having checked and double checked that we’d left nothing behind, we loaded up the Honda, kissed the cats, and left Vermont heading south to sleep in Darien with the kids. Tuesday: a limousine took us to a hotel near JFK to get a ‘good night’s sleep’. Wednesday: up bright and cheery at the ridiculous hour of 3:00 a.m. to begin one of the longest series of plane rides I’ve ever experienced: JFK to Los Angeles to Narita airport in Tokyo, Japan… to Bangkok, Thailand. A total of 36 hours of air travel! Let’s just say that for those of us unable to sleep on airplanes, those hours filled with movies, reading, Sudoku and crossword puzzles seemed endless.
What is somewhat sad about modern day travel is that for all that distance and all the hours spent getting between two places, all airports, all roads leading to and from airports, and all official signage seemed very similar be it in Thailand, Japan or Los Angeles. Our fellow travelers, be they Thai, Japanese, Chinese, American or other, all behaved the same: their mobile phones were an appendage to their ears; their wheelies never fit comfortably in the overhead compartments; their lap tops were in use at every possible moment, and the veneer of necessary civility made everyone ‘play nice’ as we flew to exotic places. Even EASY PASS existed at toll booths as we whisked our way to our hotel in Bangkok.
Unlike travel in 1927, the visible differences, which add to the romance of arriving in a new country, are almost non-existent. This might be considered a good thing in the world of globalization: that comfort of knowing that the signs will be clearly marked (in English along with the local national language); that check in and upgrades and security announcements will be handled identically, and that only the food courts in the airports will help to remind us that we are somewhere ‘different’. But I wanted more.
As we drove from the airport in Bangkok, I kept looking out the windows, through bleary eyes, trying to find those differences that would tell me I had traveled 5000 miles: advertisements for Compaq or HP gave no hint, and large office structures near the highway could have placed me anywhere. But there were small things that told me that we were not in Kansas anymore: little gold statuettes along the road placed along the cement guard rails; overpass structures designed to look like Thai temples; pictures of the revered King; others of the chief of police located at strategic places; lush and unique vegetation; and the climate - we were in the tropics and at midnight it was 76 degrees and balmy.
And here we are. We’ve read the local English language newspapers which remind us of the real world: the current conflict between Thailand and Cambodia; the imminent parting of Mubarak in Egypt; the drought in China, and nothing, absolutely nothing, about Lindsay Lohan or Charlie Sheen. Having read the hotel’s information booklet to be sure I knew what was what, I enjoyed a most curious note under the topic of ‘guest Courtesy’: “Various fruits and perishable food items that may create strong odors are not permitted in guest rooms, such as durian, jack fruit, etc.” I promise that once we figure out what these are, I will avoid these fine delicacies so as not offend the delicate noses of our fellow travelers.
Having scoped out the layout of the resort, we enjoyed a simple but satisfying dinner on a pier, and with the next wave of tiredness, headed back to bed. Twelve hours of difference between Vermont and Bangkok will take a few days to conquer.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
We thought we’d have a bundle of energy having slept entirely too many hours, so we joined our fellow travelers for a relatively early breakfast – a nice mélange of every possible food choice: Asian noodles; sushi; salad, fresh fruit – NO DURIAN - waffles and syrup, eggs and toast. You ask for it, and the buffet provided it. We sat outside on the patio enjoying the warmth, people-watching and trying to put a story around each grouping, and deciding out plan of attack for the day. Markets and Jim Thompson’s House were on the agenda.
We took the hotel’s courtesy boat - designed to look like an old Thai royal barge - and traveled down the Chao Phraya River along with colorful longtail boats available for tourists, tow boats hauling cement barges, and other hotel boats heading for the central dock closest to the Sky train. As we started toward the train, a young man who worked at our hotel suggested that the market today was probably not a great idea since there were to be Red Shirt demonstrations going on around the market area. So not wanting to get too involved with the politics of Thailand, we chose to head for the Jim Thompson House instead.
Thompson, an American working for the military and the OSS, fell in love with Bangkok and has been personally credited with reviving the Thai Silk market which was dying out with the loss of skilled craftsmen. He turned this passion and his love for Thailand into a thriving business which exists now in cities all over Southeast Asia. His home, a wonderful complex made up of five different houses which he restored and merged, represent traditional Thai architecture enhanced with American ingenuity. The mystery which surrounds him adds to the allure of the place – at the age of 61 (an inauspicious number according to his horoscope) he disappeared while visiting Malaysia and has never been found. But his non-profit foundation which he started, the silk production and sales which he encouraged, and the compound he so lovingly created speak to the power which one man can have on a country. It was well worth the visit. A delightful lunch of cooling Spring Rolls and Tiger Beer topped it off.
But that was pretty much it. Having conquered the sky train and the steamy hot streets, and having avoided demonstrations, we were exhausted. So back to the hotel by boat for a another cooling drink by the pool before another nap.
Part of me feels guilty that we’re not doing more, but the other half says, ‘hey, we’re on vacation and can do as much or as little as we want’. We still have enough days here in Bangkok to see the highlights, and maybe that’s all we really need to do. There were times in the past when I would have driven myself to do much more, conquer more geography, visit more sites, find new adventures…but today, all I really want to do is relax.
I do so love being in truly foreign places where the challenges of map-reading, communicating, and figuring out transportation while watching everything from people to buildings to signs makes the mind feel very acute: Is this the right place to find the train? Is that group of people sleeping on the road going to be ok? Are those stray dogs going to ignore us? Does that word mean Coke or Pepsi? Are we going in the right direction? But at the same time, I’m very glad to retreat to the familiar, and turn off the antenna for a while.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Preparation for next leg of the journey
The next leg of the journey is about to begin, and we're both in high states of excitement as we look forward to the adventure of new countries, new cities and new ports. Right now the final preparation has us into the minutia of travel: choosing the correct plugs and adaptors for our various pieces of electronic comforts (Kindle, computer, telephone, camera, shavers etc); remembering rain gear and appropriate cover-wear for entering temples and shrines; ensuring we have the right pharmaceuticals which would be complex to replace in countries where we don't speak the language; and all the ditsy minutia which takes on more importance once the grand plans are in place.
I've made a promise to a few friends that on this leg of the journey I will try to have the blog contain not only data, but thoughts and emotions as well. It's been hard for me (and my editor) to define our 'audience' and write to that audience with the right balance of content. But I'll try to to provide that balance. We'll see how it goes.
For those who love maps and charting courses, our ship's itinerary can be found at:
https://www.oceaniacruises.com/findcruise/asia/NAU110215/default.aspx
But in addition we are tacking on days at both the onset and the conclusion of the itinerary to catch our breath at the beginning in Bangkok, and to de-compress at the end in Beijing. The only parts I'm dreading at this point are the 25+ hour plane rides at both ends. For those of us who don't sleep on airplanes these are long slogs. But there's no other way except if we had done what daddy and Walter did which was to start at the beginning and keep moving until the end.
And THAT was not going to happen.
I've made a promise to a few friends that on this leg of the journey I will try to have the blog contain not only data, but thoughts and emotions as well. It's been hard for me (and my editor) to define our 'audience' and write to that audience with the right balance of content. But I'll try to to provide that balance. We'll see how it goes.
For those who love maps and charting courses, our ship's itinerary can be found at:
https://www.oceaniacruises.com/findcruise/asia/NAU110215/default.aspx
But in addition we are tacking on days at both the onset and the conclusion of the itinerary to catch our breath at the beginning in Bangkok, and to de-compress at the end in Beijing. The only parts I'm dreading at this point are the 25+ hour plane rides at both ends. For those of us who don't sleep on airplanes these are long slogs. But there's no other way except if we had done what daddy and Walter did which was to start at the beginning and keep moving until the end.
And THAT was not going to happen.
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