Monday, January 26 Danang and Hoi An
Today doesn’t start as smoothly. We are on the dock to meet the guide at 7:00 and at 8:30 we still haven’t left the port. The guide, Thien, was anxious and running back and forth dealing with uniformed "custom agents." Eventually I figured out that bribes were being taken. Of course, the agency engaged by the cruise to lead tours had lept over or complied with the necessary crossing of palms but our guide had not. Interestingly, our guide in Hanoi the next day wouldn’t get out of the car in the port when she picked us up or dropped us off because she didn’t want to be seen. Not sure of what all goes on behind the scenes but my mind is filled with a year and a half of becoming much to aware of how business is done in the Balkans and then lots of reading about India. I don’t pretend that there is not corruption in the US but presumably it is at a much higher and more subtle level. We can get a driver’s license or a builders permit without having to pay bribes.
Danang is the scene of the major American base during the Viet Nam War, not far from the DMZ, and the magnificent China Beach. Lovely, quiet, in the beginning stages of being over-developed with casinos and resorts, it is still pristine. One can only imagine the scene forty years ago when soldiers were helicoptered in for a day or two of R and R, the prostitues, drugs, food vendors. All only a memory and a tourist attraction now.
Today is the first day of the New Year and the streets are fairly quiet. Our group consists of Cindy, Ned, Jeff and me with our guide, Thieu. Our first stop is a marble statue factory. We are rushed by the usual bevy of lovely young women dressed in costume. It is impossible to shop here without being shadowed by a polite creature who simply will not leave you alone.
Unbeknownst to us, Jeff and Ned are looking for two things in Viet Nam: one of these lovely slit-up-the-side, Mandarin collar dresses and a marble statue for their garden at home to go with the Asian theme of redecoration. They fell in love with a graceful, probably 12 foot high abstract statue and the bargaining began. Eventually they decided against buying it.
But! The first successful or failed sale of the New Year is extremely auspicious and there is near hysteria that they will lose Ned and Jeff. The owner appears. The manager appears. Paper, pen and calculators are being brandished and even as wwe are seated in the van and the engine turned on, new and better offers are being made. Suffice it to say, Ned and Jeff were made an offer that was too good to refuse. I believe that the agreed price was about one third of the opening price and the piece will be shipped to Buffalo. I can’t wait to sit on the bay in Erie this summer and see this statue installed.
On to the small and relatively untouched town or Hoi An. Unfortunately, we are only in port from seven in the morning till six in the afternoon and it is a three hour drive to and from Hue, the city of the New Year 1968 Tet offensive. On a roll from the first purchase and having been delivered to the local silk factory, Ned gets right down to business. Who knew that Asian dresses in sizes to fit Americans - or large American breasts - would exist. To make a long and fun story short, Ned ended up with two of these beauties, I with one, and Cindywith a gorgeous scarf. My beautiful two piece silk dress and pants in red and lavendar cost $80. We left our pieces there so that a few discrete seams could be let out and the pants hemmed. Through a process which is still opaque to me, the completed pieces were delivered to our van driver on the streets several hours later. Had they been in kahoots all along?
Lunch in a second story Cargo House. Great V ietnamese food. Green papaya salad. Shredded mango salads and shrimp. Then a bike ride - a dollar an hour except that for a little more we were followed so that the bikes didn’t have to be returned - through town and down to the beach for a walk before the ride back to the ship along a different road. Such beautiful countryside and so interesting to watch everyone hustling in their new finerey to visit relatives. No one has a car, everyone has a motorbike, so whole families pile on their bikes to go over the river and through the woods to grandmother’s house. Cemeteries are in the middle of rice fields and today, the first day of the New Year, is the day one visits graves, worships the ancestors, and spends with family. Think Christmas, New Years Day, Memorial Day, and probably the Fourth of July all rolled into one.
Tuesday and Wednesday, January 27 and 28 Halong Bay and Hanoi
For several hours during this amazing morning of low hanging mist, the ship plies its way into Halong Bay, a world heritage site situated in the Gulf of Tonkin a name that those of us of a certain age will remember vividly. Lyndon Johnson prosecuted the Viet Nam War under the authority of the Gulf of Tonkin resolution rather than a formal declaration of war. The Bay is dotted with two thousand rock protrusions and is a glorious evocation of Stonehenge or the Thousand Islands. Hard to describe but a real honor to have gotten to see. Google it.
Now comes the best story that will come from this cruise. Cindy had arranged all or our Viet Nam tours with a guide that friends of hers had spent three weeks with. Her name is Thuy (Twee) and she is 47. In both 1964 and 1973, Hanoi was bombed, the first time, according to Thuy, by the French, the second by the US. The youngest of five children, Thuy was eleven months old the first time. Details are vague but it seems that the parents fled Hanoi with the five children and arrived in a small village about an hours drive from Hanoi. Here they were given shelter and taken in and raised by a family, just as desperately poor as they were. The parents went back to Hanoi becuase they had to work and the children were raised for a year by this family. During the American bombing, the three youngest children were again taken in by this family. Thuy’s parents are both dead but the very old lady and her two sons and their expended family still live in the village and are as beloved as relatives.
This being the second day of the New Year Holiday, Thuy determined to take us to visit. We were greeted at the end of a long dirt road or raised stretch between the rice paddies and fields by a contingent of family members and taken to the old grandmother’s house/compound. Her house consists of a single room with two beds on either side, an alter in the middle with several chairs in front of it, and - well, a TV, of course. The "house" gives out onto a courtyard and several other similar houses where one of the sons and his children live. Cooking is shared and takes place in another hut with open fires and big pots. We were served green tea and little candies. The grandma never let go of Thuy, kissing her and tearing up. Her teeth are completely black from chewing beetle nuts, once considered a mark of beauty although appalling now.
Time to head over to one of the sons’ house for dinner. Off we go, children hanging on each of us, holding hands, blond blue-eyed Neddie a particular favorite. Babies, dogs, well, you get the picture. Into the van again, down another hump of earth and into a quite new compound. It seems that one of the sons and a daughter, we think, have done quite well and one of the grandsons is about to embark on a similar wealth making adventure. The only way to be successful is to leave home for six months at a time and work in a factory somewhere else. One son is carving wood in Cambodia we think. The grandson is supposedly waiting for a work visa to work in a tuna canning ship off the California coast. The money gets sent home and went to build this lovely home which actually has running water and a real bathroom although we didn’t see either. Even this method of getting ahead is not fool-proof. One of the sons gave the money to buy a job in Korea but was cheated out of the money. The family was about to lose their home but Thuy’s family ended up taking the mortgage on their house.
Honored guests, we are seated at the L shaped couch in front of a coffee table laden with food. Pretty scarey looking food, I have to say. We were offered more tea and some rice wine. Maybe it’s just me, but the green tea is a pretty bitter concoction so I gave the wine a try..... There were fried spring rolls. A good thing because they seemed pretty safe. Pieces of fried pork, tasty enough. Chicken pieces from a very old chicken. Something that looked like pate or a pudding which Ned said tasted like bologna. Lettuce which we of course weren’t going to risk. Sticky rice - rice baked into a square created by a banana leaf outer wrapping. Clearly an acquired taste.
We were watched over, cooed over, observed, smiled at and generally treated like visitors from another planet who’d been brought by the big city adopted daughter to celebrate the New Year.
We couldn’t have bought such an experience.
Time to leave. A prolonged and emotional leave taking. We too have contributed some money to the family. This is done by offering money to the family gods at the family alter. It works out pretty well for everyone.
We drove the hour into Hanoi, arriving in the dark. Perhaps my failure to mention the temperature will let you know that it is now quite cold - blessedly comfortable, actually. Jeff and Ned have very graciously invited Cindy and me to partake of a room at the world famous Hanoi Metropole Hotel in the opera wing. Remember that this is French colonial gone communist and while it is lovely, it ain’t the Raffles. The Lehrian generousity was to thank us for helping them get a hefty refund on the price of the cruise and sharing Thuy’s guiding expertise and we really enjoyed and appreciated it.
Ned and Jeff peeled off to have dinner with some friends from the ship and Thuy, Cindy and I walked around the lake - the damned up river in the center of Hanoi - watched the population which hadn’t gone off to the villages to visit grandma enjoy the lovely French boulevards and green spaces, and stopped into a noodle soup place. Back at the hotel we availed ourselves of 24 hours of internet service for $15 which continued into a very expensive breakfast in the French restaurant of the Metropole. Fabulous French pastries.
Wednesday was tour Hanoi Day. I’ll spare details that might bore readers but suffice it to say that we have now seen the real live (dead) embalmed and forty years preserved body of Ho Chi Minh. This is a sacred right and heavily and militarily enforced rules apply. No hands in pockets. Single file please. No talking. No smiling. Until recently, Ho’s body was sent to Moscow were they apparently know how to keep a body looking good but now this responsibility falls to capable locals.
Among other stops, we visited the Hanoi Hilton. While this is the place where the North Vietnamese tortured downed American pilots like John McCain, it is presented rather as the place where the French, who built the prison, tortured the Viet Namese who fought for independence.
Observation: man’s ability to inflict pain on his fellow man is limitless. Every people has their story of torture by some other people. Memories never fade. And generations after generations carry on the blood-shed and propaganda.
Except in Viet Nam. I totally expected to encounter real hatred of the US. Our first guide, however, told us that they are Buddhists and that forgiveness is part of how they live. And she meant it. It’s not just that we have provided aid since, etc. It is really that they hold no grudges. And Thuy told us that they differentiate between the French as occupiers and colonialists and Americans who were only trying in their own inane way, to help. Too bad the Iraqi’s can’t make such a subtle differentiation. But then again, maybe the destruction of the country at our hands is just too fresh. And perhaps the fact that the fighting in Viet Nam was not donein the name of God helps too.
The rest of the day involved visiting Ho Chi Minh’s house. He was a very humble man, never married, who refused to live in any kind of luxury. Thuy says that the first years after the was were years of real starvation and difficulty for them. Ho Chi Minh and the communists had instituted land reform and communinalization. According to her, however, Viet Nam, unlike Russia or China, realized after four years that the plan just didn’t work and decidedly modified their socialist policies, gradually allowing private ownership. True or not, it is an interesting perspective and it is clear that Viet Nam is prospering today.
We visited the Temple of Literature, a large compound dedicated to Confucius both as a philosopher who established the first educational system in the country here on this spot and as a religious figure who is worshiped. Hundreds of dressed up people, kids, temples, praying, incense, etc. One hall had some women musicians playing instuments we’ve never seen before. A serious a bamboo poles which one claps their hands in front of to make a hollow sound. A single string instrument plucked in different places and modulated by the movement of a wand on the side. After a break, they played three traditional and weird folk songs and then broke into - yup, you guessed it - Old Susannah, in perfect English and with the crowd joined in. I guess our seats in the front row made us pretty obvious.
The trip back involved another tortuous three hours of chaotic motorbikes driving on either side of the road. We passed one accident on the way up and saw the dead bodies beside the road. The adults have to wear helmets but the kids don’t.
Cindy can give you a blow by blow of the intricacies of rice cultivation but I will spare you. Suffice it to say that it is ubiquitous.
Baby Nathan’s blanket is almost finished! Lots of knitting over potholes and through smog and pollution.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Sunday, January 25 Entry
It’s been a wonderful week and we probably haven’t gained more than 15 pounds. The food is delicious and ubiquitous. I guess all cruises are like this but the plethora of options is mind-boggling. Probably boring to any reader though. Suffice it to say that just in case there isn’t enough in the sitdown dining room available at each meal or the buffet which is open all day, or in one of the two very formal dining rooms which those traveling peasant class can avail themselves of twice during the cruise, room service is available 24/7 as well.
Cruise life is the same the world over but the people are different. Our friends a week later are Jeff and Ned Lehrian from Erie with whom we will be sharing the guides inViet Nam that Cindy has arranged. Two German couples, one of whom is the invited diamond jewelry featured artist and lecturer. We went with them to the only five star hotel in Sihanoukeville and sat on the lovely beach. A British couple we met as they were searching for the location of high tea and then were seated with us at dinner. An American couple from Long Island. Yesterday afternoon we made earrings with a group of ten from CA and CO who were amongst the youngsters and lots of fun.
Tuesday and Wednesday, January 20 and 21 - Inauguration Day in Bangkok
It took the cruise people until the night before to finally arrange transportation from the port to Bangkok. Available, of course were the one day trip for $59 and the overnight trip for $700 per person (well, yeah, there was also the two day, $1500 trip that was flying to Phnom Penh) but finally another bus was laid on to return those of us who bought the one day trip back with the two day people, if you follow me.
A two hour bus ride past what appeared to be rice paddies (I saw shallow water) and palm trees lands us at a brand new shopping mall (what else) called Center World in the middle of the city. A short but rather lengthy cab ride lands us at the Dream Hotel, recommended by Jeremy and previously booked by Cindy and within ten minutes Jeremy and Max are there to accompany us around and acquaint us with our third big Asian city. This is Max’s home town - as well as Jeremy’s adopted one since this is where they will live after foreign service life. It’s hot (predicted 104 today but I don’t think it was quite that hot) and crowded and incredibly polluted but we set off to learn the subway system. Max and Jeremy drop us at the Jim Thompson House. Google the name and you can learn more. Jim Thompson is an American who fell in love with Thailand, built himself an authentic Thai style house in the middle of Bangkok on one of the canals, and revived the Thai silk industry, transforming it from cottage industry into one of the leading in the world. He disappeared mysteriously and the case has still never been solved. Rumors abound, the leading one being that he was a CIA agent..... Well, what else?
Jeremy left to return to KL (in DC, federal employees were given inauguration day off but not around the world) to go back to work but Max stayed. We rode down to the river where one can see the river taxis plying their way loaded with rush hour passengers and see all the magnificent hotels. Max had to leave to join her mother for dinner and this is the last we are to see of either of them until.... She is decidedly bigger than when we left her only a few days before. She’ll be moving to Bangkok in two weeks, given an apartment for three months courtesy of the US gov’t and give birth in a first class Thai hospital. It is this way for all foreign service births: you either go back to the states or to a city with high level medical services. Jeremy will commute until the last two weeks and stay with her for four. It’s great because she will be near her family and friends.
Cindy and I spotted the private water taxi for the Oriental Mandarin Hotel and decided to jump on board. The hotel is often ranked as the most elegant in the world - although Dubai may have surpassed it by now. Barb Haggerty and I had been here (been not stayed) nine years ago after our Nepal trek so it was nostalgic to be back. We then raced the whole len gth of the sky train to meet two of my A100 classmates and their spouses for dinner. Jeremy and Catherine Beck had had twins the first week we were all in the FS and are loving living in style in Bangkok with the two boys, and three year old Madeleine, while another is on the way so she and Max will undoubtedly be trading birthing stories and friendship. Lora Lund and her husband Eric who is now also an FS officer were also there. A lovely dinner in an outdoor but reasonably cool Thai restaurant literally across the (very big and chaotic) street from Jeremy and Catherine’s apartment. Who knows when all our paths will cross again?
While we had been told that there was probably a party to watch the inauguration happeningin some expat Irish bar, we were so wiped out by the heat and the headache that I’d started the day with that we just went back to the Dream to watch. This is the one time that I wished I could have been in Washington with all my friends who will work in this new administration or at home with the new friends who helped elect our man but it was exciting anyway. Every paper in every Asian city we’ve been to is filled with pictures of our new President and the excitement among the cab drivers and people on the street is palpable. It’s so wonderful to be part of and witness to such hope-filled and positive event. It’s been so novel for me to have my cynicism lifted for almost six months now. If the man and his administration is able to do very little about the crisis which the last man and his administration wrought, he will nevertheless have brought us a sense of honesty and possibility. While our country is celebrating the inauguration of an African-American, I am also celebrating the return of respect for people of intellect, education, and integrity as leaders.
Wednesday morning, a tour guide connected with the ship’s transportation (but not one of the marketed packages) picked us up with an airconditioned van and driver and escorted us to the giant Buddhist temple which houses the giant golden reclining Buddha and the Imperial Palace and the most revered emerald (really jade) Buddha. Words cannot capture the elegance and beauty of either of these spectacular enclaves filled with temples bedecked with jewels and ceramics built by successive Thai emporers but you should google each of the Buddhas I mention above for a taste of what we saw.
Thursday, January 22 Sihanoukville, Cambodia
The Cambodian experience was entirely different. This country has been thoroughly devastated, most recently by the Khmer Rouge which managed to murder two million people during four years of terror during the seventies. Only just beginning to recover, as evidenced by the collection of containers waiting to be loaded onto ships. No ships in sight, though. Just our lonely cruise ship looking at a very commercial, filthy, and poor landscape.
Cindy and I skipped the local market filled with deisel fumes, maimed beggars dragging themselves through the filth, live chickens tied together by their feet, naked children, and horrible smells. I’m sorry to be so squeamish and feel guilty making the observation that third world poverty looks the same everywhere whether it’s Bolivia and Peru, Nepal, or now Cambodia. The hotel where we enjoyed the beach and a lovely outdoor restaurant are an oasis in the middle of all this poverty and garbage. I was reminded of a Caribbean island with all the wealthy tourists and the natives trying to scratch out a living selling trinkets (probably made in China) to them.
Saturday, January 24 Saigon
It is our privelege to see Saigon preparing for the biggest celebration of the year, the Lunar New Year. The entire main street has been swept of its crazy motorbike population and blocks and blocks of flower arrangements, bridges, ponds, rice paddies, and bulls in various incarnations brought in. It being Saturday, the people were turned out, children decked out in their brand new finery and proud parents snapping their photos.
Our guide, Vy, was with us for the day and she was great. We toured the forgettable Reunification Palace which was the home for a few years of the second American puppet president, Thieu. Seventies archecture, some lovely meeting rooms which are still used today. We’re not sure why it is among the largest tourist attractions.
Next stop was the Viet Nam War Remnants Museum - I’m not making this name up. Rooms and rooms full of photographs eliciting the type of response that one has to the Holocaust Museums of Washington or Jerusalem or Dachau. Shame at the hubris of our country to have wrought such devastation upon a country and to have been lied to by our leaders. Surely, as the world said after WWII, nothing like this could ever happen again; certainly never at our own hands. And yet here we are forty years later with blood on our hands again, thousands of needlessly dead American kids to say nothing of a devastated Iraq and tens of thousands of dead there. Lied to again by our leaders. My cynicism returns again.
I am soothed when I read that Obama has issued executive orders demanding transparency in his own administration, slowing at least the revolving door between K Street and PA Avenue, and recalled the criminal Bush limitations on funding for family planning. Someone has at last been listening.
We spent an hour walking among the people getting ready to celebrate the New Year. The forcast was for a mere 87 degrees and there was a blessed overcast to the day so it was fun. Vy found us a nice French/Vietnamese restaurant and Jeff, Neddie, Cindy, and I enjoyed the respite before touring China Town. China Town is the same the world over, I suppose, but in this one I saw my first pigs snouts for sale, among the other crazy things. Cindy and I are sporting new $5 watches as well.
Monday, Friday, and now Sunday are days at sea and they are languid and lazy. I’ll probably take the water color class again and just lie around. We are experiencing monsoon quality winds, it is very rough, and it was almost impossible to sleep. Fortunately, we aren’t sea sick. I’m sitting in the library which sounds crazy given the sunny weather outside but the wind is so fierce that its hard to be out. A few minutes ago a table with a large and lovely Chinese vase went toppling over and the ship truly does sound like it is groaning.
The rest of the trip will be in Viet Nam until we pull into Hong Kong next Thursday or Friday. It promises to be fascinating.
Cruise life is the same the world over but the people are different. Our friends a week later are Jeff and Ned Lehrian from Erie with whom we will be sharing the guides inViet Nam that Cindy has arranged. Two German couples, one of whom is the invited diamond jewelry featured artist and lecturer. We went with them to the only five star hotel in Sihanoukeville and sat on the lovely beach. A British couple we met as they were searching for the location of high tea and then were seated with us at dinner. An American couple from Long Island. Yesterday afternoon we made earrings with a group of ten from CA and CO who were amongst the youngsters and lots of fun.
Tuesday and Wednesday, January 20 and 21 - Inauguration Day in Bangkok
It took the cruise people until the night before to finally arrange transportation from the port to Bangkok. Available, of course were the one day trip for $59 and the overnight trip for $700 per person (well, yeah, there was also the two day, $1500 trip that was flying to Phnom Penh) but finally another bus was laid on to return those of us who bought the one day trip back with the two day people, if you follow me.
A two hour bus ride past what appeared to be rice paddies (I saw shallow water) and palm trees lands us at a brand new shopping mall (what else) called Center World in the middle of the city. A short but rather lengthy cab ride lands us at the Dream Hotel, recommended by Jeremy and previously booked by Cindy and within ten minutes Jeremy and Max are there to accompany us around and acquaint us with our third big Asian city. This is Max’s home town - as well as Jeremy’s adopted one since this is where they will live after foreign service life. It’s hot (predicted 104 today but I don’t think it was quite that hot) and crowded and incredibly polluted but we set off to learn the subway system. Max and Jeremy drop us at the Jim Thompson House. Google the name and you can learn more. Jim Thompson is an American who fell in love with Thailand, built himself an authentic Thai style house in the middle of Bangkok on one of the canals, and revived the Thai silk industry, transforming it from cottage industry into one of the leading in the world. He disappeared mysteriously and the case has still never been solved. Rumors abound, the leading one being that he was a CIA agent..... Well, what else?
Jeremy left to return to KL (in DC, federal employees were given inauguration day off but not around the world) to go back to work but Max stayed. We rode down to the river where one can see the river taxis plying their way loaded with rush hour passengers and see all the magnificent hotels. Max had to leave to join her mother for dinner and this is the last we are to see of either of them until.... She is decidedly bigger than when we left her only a few days before. She’ll be moving to Bangkok in two weeks, given an apartment for three months courtesy of the US gov’t and give birth in a first class Thai hospital. It is this way for all foreign service births: you either go back to the states or to a city with high level medical services. Jeremy will commute until the last two weeks and stay with her for four. It’s great because she will be near her family and friends.
Cindy and I spotted the private water taxi for the Oriental Mandarin Hotel and decided to jump on board. The hotel is often ranked as the most elegant in the world - although Dubai may have surpassed it by now. Barb Haggerty and I had been here (been not stayed) nine years ago after our Nepal trek so it was nostalgic to be back. We then raced the whole len gth of the sky train to meet two of my A100 classmates and their spouses for dinner. Jeremy and Catherine Beck had had twins the first week we were all in the FS and are loving living in style in Bangkok with the two boys, and three year old Madeleine, while another is on the way so she and Max will undoubtedly be trading birthing stories and friendship. Lora Lund and her husband Eric who is now also an FS officer were also there. A lovely dinner in an outdoor but reasonably cool Thai restaurant literally across the (very big and chaotic) street from Jeremy and Catherine’s apartment. Who knows when all our paths will cross again?
While we had been told that there was probably a party to watch the inauguration happeningin some expat Irish bar, we were so wiped out by the heat and the headache that I’d started the day with that we just went back to the Dream to watch. This is the one time that I wished I could have been in Washington with all my friends who will work in this new administration or at home with the new friends who helped elect our man but it was exciting anyway. Every paper in every Asian city we’ve been to is filled with pictures of our new President and the excitement among the cab drivers and people on the street is palpable. It’s so wonderful to be part of and witness to such hope-filled and positive event. It’s been so novel for me to have my cynicism lifted for almost six months now. If the man and his administration is able to do very little about the crisis which the last man and his administration wrought, he will nevertheless have brought us a sense of honesty and possibility. While our country is celebrating the inauguration of an African-American, I am also celebrating the return of respect for people of intellect, education, and integrity as leaders.
Wednesday morning, a tour guide connected with the ship’s transportation (but not one of the marketed packages) picked us up with an airconditioned van and driver and escorted us to the giant Buddhist temple which houses the giant golden reclining Buddha and the Imperial Palace and the most revered emerald (really jade) Buddha. Words cannot capture the elegance and beauty of either of these spectacular enclaves filled with temples bedecked with jewels and ceramics built by successive Thai emporers but you should google each of the Buddhas I mention above for a taste of what we saw.
Thursday, January 22 Sihanoukville, Cambodia
The Cambodian experience was entirely different. This country has been thoroughly devastated, most recently by the Khmer Rouge which managed to murder two million people during four years of terror during the seventies. Only just beginning to recover, as evidenced by the collection of containers waiting to be loaded onto ships. No ships in sight, though. Just our lonely cruise ship looking at a very commercial, filthy, and poor landscape.
Cindy and I skipped the local market filled with deisel fumes, maimed beggars dragging themselves through the filth, live chickens tied together by their feet, naked children, and horrible smells. I’m sorry to be so squeamish and feel guilty making the observation that third world poverty looks the same everywhere whether it’s Bolivia and Peru, Nepal, or now Cambodia. The hotel where we enjoyed the beach and a lovely outdoor restaurant are an oasis in the middle of all this poverty and garbage. I was reminded of a Caribbean island with all the wealthy tourists and the natives trying to scratch out a living selling trinkets (probably made in China) to them.
Saturday, January 24 Saigon
It is our privelege to see Saigon preparing for the biggest celebration of the year, the Lunar New Year. The entire main street has been swept of its crazy motorbike population and blocks and blocks of flower arrangements, bridges, ponds, rice paddies, and bulls in various incarnations brought in. It being Saturday, the people were turned out, children decked out in their brand new finery and proud parents snapping their photos.
Our guide, Vy, was with us for the day and she was great. We toured the forgettable Reunification Palace which was the home for a few years of the second American puppet president, Thieu. Seventies archecture, some lovely meeting rooms which are still used today. We’re not sure why it is among the largest tourist attractions.
Next stop was the Viet Nam War Remnants Museum - I’m not making this name up. Rooms and rooms full of photographs eliciting the type of response that one has to the Holocaust Museums of Washington or Jerusalem or Dachau. Shame at the hubris of our country to have wrought such devastation upon a country and to have been lied to by our leaders. Surely, as the world said after WWII, nothing like this could ever happen again; certainly never at our own hands. And yet here we are forty years later with blood on our hands again, thousands of needlessly dead American kids to say nothing of a devastated Iraq and tens of thousands of dead there. Lied to again by our leaders. My cynicism returns again.
I am soothed when I read that Obama has issued executive orders demanding transparency in his own administration, slowing at least the revolving door between K Street and PA Avenue, and recalled the criminal Bush limitations on funding for family planning. Someone has at last been listening.
We spent an hour walking among the people getting ready to celebrate the New Year. The forcast was for a mere 87 degrees and there was a blessed overcast to the day so it was fun. Vy found us a nice French/Vietnamese restaurant and Jeff, Neddie, Cindy, and I enjoyed the respite before touring China Town. China Town is the same the world over, I suppose, but in this one I saw my first pigs snouts for sale, among the other crazy things. Cindy and I are sporting new $5 watches as well.
Monday, Friday, and now Sunday are days at sea and they are languid and lazy. I’ll probably take the water color class again and just lie around. We are experiencing monsoon quality winds, it is very rough, and it was almost impossible to sleep. Fortunately, we aren’t sea sick. I’m sitting in the library which sounds crazy given the sunny weather outside but the wind is so fierce that its hard to be out. A few minutes ago a table with a large and lovely Chinese vase went toppling over and the ship truly does sound like it is groaning.
The rest of the trip will be in Viet Nam until we pull into Hong Kong next Thursday or Friday. It promises to be fascinating.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Monday, January 19 Entry
Wednesday, January 14
Cindy, Max and I depart on the luxury bus to Singapore at 9:00 am. Roomy seats in a double decker bus with about 30 seats and a downstairs lounge area. The Chipmunks movie was playing on the overhead monitor and we were immediately SERVED tea and a Subway sandwich. I spent the first of the five hours reading up on Singapore and the next four knitting the Aran knit cotton blanket for Jeremy and Max’s baby. The goal is to finish it in time for Cindy to take it home after New Delhi and mail it to the proud parents. The baby is due March 23.
The road is as modern as any European or American motorway, replete with rest stops hosting a slue of food vendors, everything from cut up fruit to stir fries. And the scenery is lush tropical forests - but cultivated ones. Along the road are the tall skinny rubber trees and inside are miles of palm trees. Malaysia’s four main exports are rubber, tin, tea, and palm oil so we were watching two of the four growing mile after mile.
The bus pulls into the port of Singapore on the harbor front where there is a massive complex for cruise ships, the metro, buses, shopping, fast food restaurants including, of course, McDonalds. We take a cab to our hotel, the Furama, an "economy" class hotel that looks far above that and where we have been upgraded into a suite because there are four of us. $140/ night but $100 for two on the second and third night. (I’ll include this kind of info in case anyone is reading this looking to stay in Singapore). The hotel is between two metro stops, three blocks from Starbucks, and at the gateway to Chinatown.
The ever efficient, knowledgeable, and helpful Max grabs us a cab to the historical section of town where the bay meets the river. Here Stamford Raffles landed and more or less declared Singapore to be part of the British Empire through a series of trades and deals with local Sultans and chiefs. The famous statue/fountain of the merlion (mermaid tail, lion’s head) looks out over the bay, magnificent high rises sprout all around, and yet there is a general sense of airiness.
Singapore is truly a beautiful, elegant, clean and wonderful city.
Have I mentioned that it is hot here?
Wednesday through Saturday, January 14-17.
To not bore you with all the details of what we saw, where we went, where and what we ate, and when but to nevertheless serve as my own reminder, I’ll list some of the sights and impressions of the remainder of Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Max was with us until Thursday evening and then we were on our own. I have to say that Cindy and I mastered the city, walked it north, south, east, and west, many places more than once.
By the time JR and Eileen (Cindy’s son and daughter-in-law) arrived, Saturday late afternoon, we were able to BE the tourguides. Believe it or not, they are on their own three month tour of south east Asia and have just come from diving in Palau. If you are a truly fascinated travel blog reader (and you must be if you are reading this), click onto http://jrtozer.blogspot.com/ and read where THEY have been. Don’t miss the underwater video of them swimming UNDER a giant manatee or WITH jellyfish.
Impressions:
Two hotels are heart stopping, each in a different way. Near the merlion and the beautiful view of the harbor and river is the fabulous (not hyperbole, even though I use this word too often) art deco Fullerton Hotel. Rooms start at $500 (Eileen asked) but we’re told you can do it for a bit less on line. We were in the hotel enough times to be able to say that we know exactly where the bathroom is and feel at home in it even if we couldn’t afford a glass of wine or participation in the elegant dessert bar in the lobby. The other hotel is the world famous Raffles, pictured in all guidebooks and listed in 1000 Places to Go before You Die. Its famous Long Bar is a bit over famous but at least we’ve seen it. Twice. Last night when we tried to have a drink at the equally famous Writers Bar off the equally famous lobby, we were denied entrance because JR was wearing shorts..... But we’d seen it the day before and can truly say we were there. As JR said, I can only imagine what the setting was like when this was truly a British watering hole one hundred and fifty years ago before it was a mere oasis in a sea of high rises.
We are in southeast Asia before and during the Chinese New Year which starts on Jan. 26 and continues for several days. Everywhere we have been there are hanging red lanterns and most interesting orange trees rather espalied in place. One gives gifts - usually money - and it is mandatory that everything one wears on New Year’s Day is brand spanking new. We are told that Danang and Hue in Viet Nam where we will be on the first day will be closed. Think our New Year’s Day. Not sure if there is also a New Year’s Eve celebration or not but stay tuned.
Chinatown is bustling in preparation. Little stalls line all the streets and sell everything from noodles to clothing. We did some shopping - cheap cotton clothing made in Nepal, etc. but some of it of a size to go around an American rather than a petite Asian. One shirt I bought was a 4XL (that is XXXXL). How’s that for an ego boost when one is setting out on an eating fest of a cruise for two weeks? After the shopping bonanza, we "dined" in one of the hundreds of Chinese restaurants. Max ordered some things we couldn’t eat because they were so hot. She had to run before the bill finally arrived in order to catch her bus back to KL. When we paid the bill, we created an international incident by being one dime short and mistakenly having given the waitress a Malaysian dime. Much yelling in Chinese from the front of the restaurant to the back, heads turning, and we left in disgrace with our tails between our legs.
Financial Arrangements in the internet age. We got on Thursday morning as my banking problems continued to multiply. I had purchased 24 hours of internet connection for $25 from the hotel and was attempting to solve the latest iteration of those problems using my new vonage connection which provides something slightly less than a real connection, as in not satisfactory. This all took careful use of the internet minutes because of the time issues. I had to wait until 10 at night for business to open at 9 am in DC but could get up early in the morning to speak to people in the evening at home. Not to bore you but can you imagine that one cannot transfer money from ones’ State Dept. Credit Union savings account either by phone (why the hell do they ask for all those passwords and dead people’s middle and maiden names for security purposes then?) OR on the internet. I had to FAX a letter with my signature and the very kind customer service rep with whom I spoke on my one GOOD vonage connection said she would take it to a manager at one of the branches in Washington. The good news is, however, that she actually did what she said she would do unlike any other transaction I made to prepare for this trip.
Cindy and explored Little India on our own all day Thursday after the anxious morning of banking. We met a young Australian woman doctor on the street and lunched with her on Indian food whose names I cannot say. Suffice it to say that it was great. The main street running through Little India, Surrapoon, is home to hundreds of restaurants, stalls selling all kinds of cheap stuff from knock off watches to readimade clothes, to nasty shoes, to trinkets. At the far end of the street, through the brutally hot afternoon, are two Buddhist and one Hindu temple. By now we have a pretty good idea how to behave, when to take our shoes off, when to put a shawl on, when not to sniff the flower necklaces etc.
Dyed Indian/ Chinese bazaar clothing. I may have mentioned that it is warm here. (I may not have mentioned the recently abandoned hormone patches but some of you can imagine that might have something to do with the heat issue.) The previous day I had purchased one of those pairs of pants that one puts on like a diaper. You know, tie the fabric from the front around the back of your waist, reach between your legs and grab the front, pull it up BEHIND you and tie in the front. Voila! A pair of pants that looks a little like a skirt but which allows for a little air along the sides. Mind are red. By the time I finished sweating gallons of fluids that day, red was also the color of my underwear, the previously white shirt I had tucked into the pants, and my new nylon travel purse/belt. When I shaved my legs, the razor turned pink, too.
Cultural sensitivity. In spite of the heat, we have worked hard to be appropriate. The racial/religious proportions in Singapore are the exact opposite of those in Malaysia: 75% Chinese, probably about 15% Muslim, and 10% Hindu. Remember that the Indians can be either Muslim or Hindu. Apparently Stamford Raffles not only took control for the British East India Co., appropriated the best land along the river for the Brits and their business and trading enterprises, but also assigned the Chinese and Indians and Malays to their own enclaves. Where they have remained ever since. The Indian area gives way to a more solidly Muslim enclave where you start to see more head scarves and, in turn, receive a lot more stares. We spoke to a pair of magnificently clad and bescarfed women outside of a glorious mosque to inquire about whether we could go in. It struck Cindy and me that they were purposely trying to be friendly and impress us that we needn’t be afraid of them. We are reminded to be similarly aware of going out of our way to speak to Muslims in particular so that we can be good ambassadors for our own country and prove that they don’t have to be afraid of us.
A disclaimer: while I am reminded less often here in Singapore than in KL, I have a visceral reaction bordering on anger when I see women all covered up and their husbands in their cool cottons and jeans. What are they saying to their little girls? And even the little girls are dressed in lots of black, their arms, legs, feet covered. Of course, the teenagers are in skin tight jeans and loaded with makeup and text-messaging like crazy with their friends and boyfriends (which would never be accepted in the Arab world) but why should they have to cover their hair? I just don’t get it.
Food. We have been told that we can eat anything in Singapore and the guidebooks actually encourage you to eat the street food and it is indeed not to be missed. We dined twice in a "hawker" court, named for the touts hawking their particular food. At least a square block in size, undercover of a huge roof but still open air, literally hundreds of stalls sell any kind of food you can imagine. No tummy upsets so far. One of the nights there was a singing group playing on the overhead platform, singing - well, what else?, American sixties favorites.
Facilities: Never leave home without a partial roll of toilet paper in your purse. We have encountered more squat toilets than you might expect but there is never toilet paper supplied in the sit down kind either. Not true of the Fullerton Hotel, of course, which partially explains our affinity for it’s ladies room. Also, never pass up a temple bathroom. It will be a squatter but it will be clean. You can tell by the hose hanging down helpfully nearby.
Saturday, Sunday, and Monday January 17, 18, and 19
Welcome to a new world aboard the Quest, Azamara’s cruise ship. More will follow but I have to hurry off to my aerobics and stretching class. Cindy is off playing Wii tennis. Our stateroom is great, we are happy and wellfed, and surrounded by so many old people that we feel young. We haven’t spotted any single men but haven’t been here that long either.... We spent our first night on the ship although we met JR and Eileen when they pulled into town during the evening. At 1:30 Sunday afternoon, we watched Singapore’s amazing harbor, one of the busiest in the world as it provides the best passage through the Straits of Malacca, fade off into the distance.
Hootay! Tomorrow at midnight we will watch our man be inaugurated. Will we stay up all night or let CNN continually replay the event for us?
Cindy, Max and I depart on the luxury bus to Singapore at 9:00 am. Roomy seats in a double decker bus with about 30 seats and a downstairs lounge area. The Chipmunks movie was playing on the overhead monitor and we were immediately SERVED tea and a Subway sandwich. I spent the first of the five hours reading up on Singapore and the next four knitting the Aran knit cotton blanket for Jeremy and Max’s baby. The goal is to finish it in time for Cindy to take it home after New Delhi and mail it to the proud parents. The baby is due March 23.
The road is as modern as any European or American motorway, replete with rest stops hosting a slue of food vendors, everything from cut up fruit to stir fries. And the scenery is lush tropical forests - but cultivated ones. Along the road are the tall skinny rubber trees and inside are miles of palm trees. Malaysia’s four main exports are rubber, tin, tea, and palm oil so we were watching two of the four growing mile after mile.
The bus pulls into the port of Singapore on the harbor front where there is a massive complex for cruise ships, the metro, buses, shopping, fast food restaurants including, of course, McDonalds. We take a cab to our hotel, the Furama, an "economy" class hotel that looks far above that and where we have been upgraded into a suite because there are four of us. $140/ night but $100 for two on the second and third night. (I’ll include this kind of info in case anyone is reading this looking to stay in Singapore). The hotel is between two metro stops, three blocks from Starbucks, and at the gateway to Chinatown.
The ever efficient, knowledgeable, and helpful Max grabs us a cab to the historical section of town where the bay meets the river. Here Stamford Raffles landed and more or less declared Singapore to be part of the British Empire through a series of trades and deals with local Sultans and chiefs. The famous statue/fountain of the merlion (mermaid tail, lion’s head) looks out over the bay, magnificent high rises sprout all around, and yet there is a general sense of airiness.
Singapore is truly a beautiful, elegant, clean and wonderful city.
Have I mentioned that it is hot here?
Wednesday through Saturday, January 14-17.
To not bore you with all the details of what we saw, where we went, where and what we ate, and when but to nevertheless serve as my own reminder, I’ll list some of the sights and impressions of the remainder of Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Max was with us until Thursday evening and then we were on our own. I have to say that Cindy and I mastered the city, walked it north, south, east, and west, many places more than once.
By the time JR and Eileen (Cindy’s son and daughter-in-law) arrived, Saturday late afternoon, we were able to BE the tourguides. Believe it or not, they are on their own three month tour of south east Asia and have just come from diving in Palau. If you are a truly fascinated travel blog reader (and you must be if you are reading this), click onto http://jrtozer.blogspot.com/ and read where THEY have been. Don’t miss the underwater video of them swimming UNDER a giant manatee or WITH jellyfish.
Impressions:
Two hotels are heart stopping, each in a different way. Near the merlion and the beautiful view of the harbor and river is the fabulous (not hyperbole, even though I use this word too often) art deco Fullerton Hotel. Rooms start at $500 (Eileen asked) but we’re told you can do it for a bit less on line. We were in the hotel enough times to be able to say that we know exactly where the bathroom is and feel at home in it even if we couldn’t afford a glass of wine or participation in the elegant dessert bar in the lobby. The other hotel is the world famous Raffles, pictured in all guidebooks and listed in 1000 Places to Go before You Die. Its famous Long Bar is a bit over famous but at least we’ve seen it. Twice. Last night when we tried to have a drink at the equally famous Writers Bar off the equally famous lobby, we were denied entrance because JR was wearing shorts..... But we’d seen it the day before and can truly say we were there. As JR said, I can only imagine what the setting was like when this was truly a British watering hole one hundred and fifty years ago before it was a mere oasis in a sea of high rises.
We are in southeast Asia before and during the Chinese New Year which starts on Jan. 26 and continues for several days. Everywhere we have been there are hanging red lanterns and most interesting orange trees rather espalied in place. One gives gifts - usually money - and it is mandatory that everything one wears on New Year’s Day is brand spanking new. We are told that Danang and Hue in Viet Nam where we will be on the first day will be closed. Think our New Year’s Day. Not sure if there is also a New Year’s Eve celebration or not but stay tuned.
Chinatown is bustling in preparation. Little stalls line all the streets and sell everything from noodles to clothing. We did some shopping - cheap cotton clothing made in Nepal, etc. but some of it of a size to go around an American rather than a petite Asian. One shirt I bought was a 4XL (that is XXXXL). How’s that for an ego boost when one is setting out on an eating fest of a cruise for two weeks? After the shopping bonanza, we "dined" in one of the hundreds of Chinese restaurants. Max ordered some things we couldn’t eat because they were so hot. She had to run before the bill finally arrived in order to catch her bus back to KL. When we paid the bill, we created an international incident by being one dime short and mistakenly having given the waitress a Malaysian dime. Much yelling in Chinese from the front of the restaurant to the back, heads turning, and we left in disgrace with our tails between our legs.
Financial Arrangements in the internet age. We got on Thursday morning as my banking problems continued to multiply. I had purchased 24 hours of internet connection for $25 from the hotel and was attempting to solve the latest iteration of those problems using my new vonage connection which provides something slightly less than a real connection, as in not satisfactory. This all took careful use of the internet minutes because of the time issues. I had to wait until 10 at night for business to open at 9 am in DC but could get up early in the morning to speak to people in the evening at home. Not to bore you but can you imagine that one cannot transfer money from ones’ State Dept. Credit Union savings account either by phone (why the hell do they ask for all those passwords and dead people’s middle and maiden names for security purposes then?) OR on the internet. I had to FAX a letter with my signature and the very kind customer service rep with whom I spoke on my one GOOD vonage connection said she would take it to a manager at one of the branches in Washington. The good news is, however, that she actually did what she said she would do unlike any other transaction I made to prepare for this trip.
Cindy and explored Little India on our own all day Thursday after the anxious morning of banking. We met a young Australian woman doctor on the street and lunched with her on Indian food whose names I cannot say. Suffice it to say that it was great. The main street running through Little India, Surrapoon, is home to hundreds of restaurants, stalls selling all kinds of cheap stuff from knock off watches to readimade clothes, to nasty shoes, to trinkets. At the far end of the street, through the brutally hot afternoon, are two Buddhist and one Hindu temple. By now we have a pretty good idea how to behave, when to take our shoes off, when to put a shawl on, when not to sniff the flower necklaces etc.
Dyed Indian/ Chinese bazaar clothing. I may have mentioned that it is warm here. (I may not have mentioned the recently abandoned hormone patches but some of you can imagine that might have something to do with the heat issue.) The previous day I had purchased one of those pairs of pants that one puts on like a diaper. You know, tie the fabric from the front around the back of your waist, reach between your legs and grab the front, pull it up BEHIND you and tie in the front. Voila! A pair of pants that looks a little like a skirt but which allows for a little air along the sides. Mind are red. By the time I finished sweating gallons of fluids that day, red was also the color of my underwear, the previously white shirt I had tucked into the pants, and my new nylon travel purse/belt. When I shaved my legs, the razor turned pink, too.
Cultural sensitivity. In spite of the heat, we have worked hard to be appropriate. The racial/religious proportions in Singapore are the exact opposite of those in Malaysia: 75% Chinese, probably about 15% Muslim, and 10% Hindu. Remember that the Indians can be either Muslim or Hindu. Apparently Stamford Raffles not only took control for the British East India Co., appropriated the best land along the river for the Brits and their business and trading enterprises, but also assigned the Chinese and Indians and Malays to their own enclaves. Where they have remained ever since. The Indian area gives way to a more solidly Muslim enclave where you start to see more head scarves and, in turn, receive a lot more stares. We spoke to a pair of magnificently clad and bescarfed women outside of a glorious mosque to inquire about whether we could go in. It struck Cindy and me that they were purposely trying to be friendly and impress us that we needn’t be afraid of them. We are reminded to be similarly aware of going out of our way to speak to Muslims in particular so that we can be good ambassadors for our own country and prove that they don’t have to be afraid of us.
A disclaimer: while I am reminded less often here in Singapore than in KL, I have a visceral reaction bordering on anger when I see women all covered up and their husbands in their cool cottons and jeans. What are they saying to their little girls? And even the little girls are dressed in lots of black, their arms, legs, feet covered. Of course, the teenagers are in skin tight jeans and loaded with makeup and text-messaging like crazy with their friends and boyfriends (which would never be accepted in the Arab world) but why should they have to cover their hair? I just don’t get it.
Food. We have been told that we can eat anything in Singapore and the guidebooks actually encourage you to eat the street food and it is indeed not to be missed. We dined twice in a "hawker" court, named for the touts hawking their particular food. At least a square block in size, undercover of a huge roof but still open air, literally hundreds of stalls sell any kind of food you can imagine. No tummy upsets so far. One of the nights there was a singing group playing on the overhead platform, singing - well, what else?, American sixties favorites.
Facilities: Never leave home without a partial roll of toilet paper in your purse. We have encountered more squat toilets than you might expect but there is never toilet paper supplied in the sit down kind either. Not true of the Fullerton Hotel, of course, which partially explains our affinity for it’s ladies room. Also, never pass up a temple bathroom. It will be a squatter but it will be clean. You can tell by the hose hanging down helpfully nearby.
Saturday, Sunday, and Monday January 17, 18, and 19
Welcome to a new world aboard the Quest, Azamara’s cruise ship. More will follow but I have to hurry off to my aerobics and stretching class. Cindy is off playing Wii tennis. Our stateroom is great, we are happy and wellfed, and surrounded by so many old people that we feel young. We haven’t spotted any single men but haven’t been here that long either.... We spent our first night on the ship although we met JR and Eileen when they pulled into town during the evening. At 1:30 Sunday afternoon, we watched Singapore’s amazing harbor, one of the busiest in the world as it provides the best passage through the Straits of Malacca, fade off into the distance.
Hootay! Tomorrow at midnight we will watch our man be inaugurated. Will we stay up all night or let CNN continually replay the event for us?
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Tuesday, January 13 Entry
Sunday, January 11
Jeremy stays home for some quiet time and we three metro over to the old colonial center of KL. In the picture to the left, we are standing in front of one of the biggest mosques in this part of the world. We notice but have found no explanation for the fact that there are almost no women anywhere around and lots and lots of men. It reminds me of Cairo except in this case they were mostly young. Not sure if they were waiting for the call to prayer or if they were all out while the old lady was home scrubbing, polishing and cooking.
Five hours on the streets seems to be all we can take. I simply wilt from the heat. The fact that our 25 year old companion, Max, is seven months pregnant saves us from feeling like old ladies because she wilts too.
Max and Cindy and I wandered the old city center which grew up at the convergence of two
rivers to service the tin mining trade a couple of hundred years ago. Lots of Chinese labor and later lots of British government buildings built in the Moghul style that the Brits had learned worked so well in India. Some very pretty. We stopped in two taoist Buddhist temples where one lights joss sticks and waves the smoke at the gods after leaving offerings of fruit and money and the Hindu temple mentioned above.Five hours on the streets seems to be all we can take. I simply wilt from the heat. The fact that our 25 year old companion, Max, is seven months pregnant saves us from feeling like old ladies because she wilts too.
Tuesday, January 13
Cindy and I ventured out alone, taking the metro to the KL Tower, not to be confused with the double Patronas office towers near their apartment building. It was built with loving care and great expense in the middle of a piece of rainforest in the center of the city. We had a personal guided tour of the rainforest by a conservationist/naturalist. Cindy was thrilled being a real nature buff so we are good for each other since I will naturally gravitate towards something bookish or a history museum and Cindy towards a nature preserve. Together we will see it all.
After lunch at good old KLCC, we sat by the manmade lake and park built next two the twin towers for our last visit. We watched two women completely covered but for their eyes in black abayas sitting under a palm tree while their children swam in the lake in this sweltering weather. We were surprised that there weren’t more people there with their kids but Max tells us that growing up in equally sweltering Bangkok, they rarely went outside either. Think winter in Erie, I guess. At least you don’t have to shovel the heat.
Jeremy stays home for some quiet time and we three metro over to the old colonial center of KL. In the picture to the left, we are standing in front of one of the biggest mosques in this part of the world. We notice but have found no explanation for the fact that there are almost no women anywhere around and lots and lots of men. It reminds me of Cairo except in this case they were mostly young. Not sure if they were waiting for the call to prayer or if they were all out while the old lady was home scrubbing, polishing and cooking.Today we experienced our first cultural faux pas – or at least the first that we know about. Outside a Hindu temple there are many tables set up with people stringing jasmine blossoms and marigolds into what we took to be leis. Max told us that no we couldn’t buy them and wear them around our necks because that would be elevating ourselves to the level of the gods for whom they are intended. Apparently people buy them and put them around the necks of the gods in the temples. So we stood and sniffed the wonderful fragrance - as you can see in the first picture. When we came out of the temple later - after witnessing a Hindu wedding, reception, and all the picture taking - we stopped for another stiff. A stern looking fellow on a motorcycle said loudly, "No smelling!" Uh-oh.
Five hours on the streets seems to be all we can take. I simply wilt from the heat. The fact that our 25 year old companion, Max, is seven months pregnant saves us from feeling like old ladies because she wilts too.Max and Cindy and I wandered the old city center which grew up at the convergence of two
rivers to service the tin mining trade a couple of hundred years ago. Lots of Chinese labor and later lots of British government buildings built in the Moghul style that the Brits had learned worked so well in India. Some very pretty. We stopped in two taoist Buddhist temples where one lights joss sticks and waves the smoke at the gods after leaving offerings of fruit and money and the Hindu temple mentioned above.Five hours on the streets seems to be all we can take. I simply wilt from the heat. The fact that our 25 year old companion, Max, is seven months pregnant saves us from feeling like old ladies because she wilts too.
Max and Cindy and I wandered the old city center which grew up at the convergence of two
rivers to service the tin mining trade a couple of hundred years ago. Lots of Chinese labor and later lots of British government buildings built in the Moghul style that the Brits had learned worked so well in India. Some very pretty. We stopped in two taoist Buddhist temples where one lights joss sticks and waves the smoke at the gods after leaving offerings of fruit and money and the Hindu temple mentioned above.
Along the way we found a Chinese craft center selling Malaysian crafts we’d read about in our guidebook. Housed on the third floor of the old Lee Rubber Co. Building, it also had a lovely tea room which served some of the best Thai food we’ve had, and in air conditioned splendour, to boot. Jeremy joined us for lunch and then we walked through the old official buildings of the city center which now house various judiciary and court offices. Very pretty. Very hot.
rivers to service the tin mining trade a couple of hundred years ago. Lots of Chinese labor and later lots of British government buildings built in the Moghul style that the Brits had learned worked so well in India. Some very pretty. We stopped in two taoist Buddhist temples where one lights joss sticks and waves the smoke at the gods after leaving offerings of fruit and money and the Hindu temple mentioned above.
Along the way we found a Chinese craft center selling Malaysian crafts we’d read about in our guidebook. Housed on the third floor of the old Lee Rubber Co. Building, it also had a lovely tea room which served some of the best Thai food we’ve had, and in air conditioned splendour, to boot. Jeremy joined us for lunch and then we walked through the old official buildings of the city center which now house various judiciary and court offices. Very pretty. Very hot.
Monday, January 12
A little morning yoga, the first shower of the day, some shopping in the KLCC (see first entry) and Max and Cindy and I were off to the Lake Gardens after meeting Jeremy for another Thai lunch in a lovely restaurant across the street from the American Embassy (almost invisible behind high barriers and walls, like all our fortress embassies around the world these days). Here in the Gardens are an ASEAN sculpture garden, a national monument to fallen soldiers who, according to the inscription and like all fallen soldiers everywhere, are credited with dying (and presumably killing) in the name of peace and freedom. What is wrong with this picture? Then the butterfly, orchid, and hibiscus gardens before we once again wilted and headed for home.
A little morning yoga, the first shower of the day, some shopping in the KLCC (see first entry) and Max and Cindy and I were off to the Lake Gardens after meeting Jeremy for another Thai lunch in a lovely restaurant across the street from the American Embassy (almost invisible behind high barriers and walls, like all our fortress embassies around the world these days). Here in the Gardens are an ASEAN sculpture garden, a national monument to fallen soldiers who, according to the inscription and like all fallen soldiers everywhere, are credited with dying (and presumably killing) in the name of peace and freedom. What is wrong with this picture? Then the butterfly, orchid, and hibiscus gardens before we once again wilted and headed for home.Five hours on the dot again. What will we do when we aren’t in a home where we can do twice daily changes of clothes and laundry?
We’ve also decided to go to Singapore a couple of days ahead of schedule since we have pretty well exhausted the tourist sites here in KL and Max keeps saying that the food, shopping and tourist attractions are better there than here. Since Jeremy has to go out of town for a couple of days to oversee a provincial by-election (something we Americans feel we are entitled to tell the world how to do and which they could never do successfully without our oversight), Max is going to go with us! I can already see the benefits of having left travel plans and dates loose......
Tuesday, January 13
Cindy and I ventured out alone, taking the metro to the KL Tower, not to be confused with the double Patronas office towers near their apartment building. It was built with loving care and great expense in the middle of a piece of rainforest in the center of the city. We had a personal guided tour of the rainforest by a conservationist/naturalist. Cindy was thrilled being a real nature buff so we are good for each other since I will naturally gravitate towards something bookish or a history museum and Cindy towards a nature preserve. Together we will see it all.
After lunch at good old KLCC, we sat by the manmade lake and park built next two the twin towers for our last visit. We watched two women completely covered but for their eyes in black abayas sitting under a palm tree while their children swam in the lake in this sweltering weather. We were surprised that there weren’t more people there with their kids but Max tells us that growing up in equally sweltering Bangkok, they rarely went outside either. Think winter in Erie, I guess. At least you don’t have to shovel the heat.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Sunday, January 11, Kuala Lumpur
Sunday, January 11
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
Wednesday evening, January 7
The international terminal at LAX on a Wednesday night is a busy, multi-cultural place, a cacophony of languages, skin tones, life speeds. Cindy and I certainly stand out in this mostly Asian crowd but no one is paying any attention. Many little kids and babies.
The fifteen hour flight on Cathay Pacific to KL is great and we emerge rested and unscathed. Our first experience on a 747 is a good one. Thanks to Charlie we have bulkhead seats - just enough room to prop our legs on the wall ahead which is how we sleep. Dozens of movies available on command. Dinner is served within an hour; after all, it is almost midnight Pacific time and 2 pm THURSDAY at our destination. I watched Road to Rodanthe which is highly forgettable but served to put me to sleep for six hours - along with my always present mother’s little helpers. At 1 am, we wake up reasonably refreshed, read, are served breakfast (a checken flavored rice porridge) at about 3 and emerge in Hong Kong. We have been in the dark for almost 24 hours because we have been continuously moving west.
Friday, January 9 (we’ve crossed the international dateline and Thursday doesn’t happen for us)
The Hong Kong airport is the most .... Well most everything. Huge, clean, efficient, user friendly. Of course it is 6 in the morning and most of the shops and restaurants aren’t open. We take sponge bathes in the spacious rest room, Cindy dawns her new travel skirt, and we settle in at a breakfast bar for our second breakfast and are easily able to connect wirelessly to the internet. My carefully constructed Google homepage with the NY Times, CNN, the Indian Times, the Onion, my horoscope (both Cancer and my rising sign, Virgo, as Evie has instructed me) comes up in Chinese but I am able to get me email. My reply to a note from Dennis and Nancy in Mumbai disappears into the ether, however.
We are here in HK waiting for a four hour flight to KL on Air Asia. We are fortunate to discover that the Air Asia flight actually leaves two hours earlier than we knew..... Cindy and I had spent two days weighing and repacking our luggage to meet the very strict weight requirements of 33 pounds for the checked bag and 15 for the carry on and I am prepared to pay for the 8 pounds I simply can’t eliminate - and no one even checks. Another huge plane filled with what appears to be students and young professionals heading for the warmth of a weekend in Malaysia. Cindy and I both get window seats for great views of the islands (reminding me of Greece) and the palm tree canopy of the mainland. Luscious and green. One must pay even for water but US$ is accepted along with the Malaysian ringgit.
The airport is efficient, we glide easily through customs, the luggage arrives, and emerge to a blast of hot, humid air. We note that there are many cleaners, all women with head scarves. I’m still in my jeans and have to keep the red shawl on so Max can find us so I’m melting. We stand curbside for quite awhile before realizing that we have walked right past her, looking cool and as fecund as the rainforest around us. She has made the trip out to the airport by bus and has a taxi ready to take us into the city. Driving into town makes me think of a Caribbean island, lush, green, and rather rural looking.
This quickly gives way to crazy traffic and the bustle of a big Asian city. Jeremy and Max have a beautiful three bedroom, three bath apartment on the eighth floor of a 32 floor building with walls of windows overlooking another huge building going up, evidence of the building and population explosion in KL. We make a quick change of clothes and walk to the relatively new KLCC - Kuala Lumpur Convention Center - which is comprised of the famous Petronas twin towers and a manmade park. The first six floors are filled with expensive world class shops like one would find on Wisconsin Avenue in Chevy Chase and food courts and even grocery stores. Max, Cindy and I grab some sauteed vegetables for a total of 80 cents. Max says that, like most Asian cities, it is cheaper to eat out that at home. The mall is crawling with people, almost all the women wearing headscarves. Malysia is officially a Muslim country and it is the 60% of the population who are Malays that is Muslim, but a secular Muslim mostly observed in modest dress, no alcohol and no pork. 25% of the population is Chinese who, while they are the successful entrepreneurs and bankers, are politically passive, not needing the government subsidies that the Malays receive. Indians make up 7% of the 25 million population and are usually at the bottom of the food chain, making up the majority of security guards and blue collar workers; they are also heavily represented in law and medicine, however.
When we get home, our deputy political officer at the US Embassy KL has arrived at home having completed the 20 minute walk from the Embassy. Jeremy is the same age as my son Scott and we became friends during our A100 days with the State Department. His history is replete with experiences and decisions that aren’t typical. A Jew at West Point; a West Point graduate who joins the State Dept. rather than the Pentagon (although he served two tours in Bosnia during the 90s); a man with Hebrew, Arabic, and German language skills whose first assignment is Bangkok; a lawyer/MBA grad who is a diplomat. We couldn’t be more different as he is type A and I type C at best; I old enough to be his mother. But we have been close friends for six years now; in fact Jan 13 is the sixth anniversary of our first day as the 111th A100 class joining the Department of State under Colin Powell’s Diplomatic Readiness Initiative, a move to try to correct the attrition to which State has been subjected while the Pentagon has flourished. While all the recruits from that period have advanced to mid-level positions by now, they have also been sucked into the black holes of Iraq and Afghanistan so the diplomatic core is desperately in needed of Hillary’s pledged beefing up. We have arrived during the second week of the Israeli bombardment of Gaza and, like most countries around the world, there are protests against the American Embassy and businesses - especially in Muslim countries where there is no Israeli Embassy. As deputy political counselor, this is Jeremy's concern.
Jeremy, Max, Cindy, and I head out for dinner at the Westin Hotel’s Italian restaurant. Daring in all other ways, Jeremy does not have wide-ranging epicurean tastes, tending mostly towards pizza and American cereal; nothing green, not ever. I have what is probably the last glass of wine I’ll see for awhile. It is hot, hot, hot and we go by cab, that heavens.
Saturday, January 10
A great ten hour night’s sleep later, we are ready to experience KL by day. Not as congested as I’d expected but still borderline third world, KL has enjoyed a major explosion in building and population. Bustling but not packed. Sidewalks but precarious grates over mysterious channels, sometimes flowing with smelly liquid, mostly dry and filled with leaves and plastic bags; terrifying traffic that makes us choose pedestrian overpasses. We experience three of the four modes of transportation on Saturday although none of them is coordinated with the other. Buses and the underground metro and overhead train are not connected or compatible. The underground and the overhead do not leave from the same stations or have the same tickets or booths. I’m counting taxis as the fourth form and we don’t take a bus, the cheapest mode of travel.
We walk through what is supposed to be a neighborhood containing vestiges of the colonial past but darned if we see any. We’re drenched pretty quickly, take the monorail to another section of the city where we eat in a Chinese restaurant - no headscarves here. We walk through a fabulous market - open air but under cover where, given the heat and the third world nature of things, we are surprised by the cleanliness and lack of flies and dirt. Amazing unidentifiable produce; a teaming barrel of snails in mud; thousands of dead chickens with their feet reaching for the sky; cows feet (never pigs because this is a Muslim country); fruits and vegetables and spices.
We walk towards China town and through two more malls, one which is all electronic, and one which reminds you of any American mall on a Saturday afternoon, teaming with teens texting on their cell phones and checking out the latest fashions. Malls are ubiquitous because they provide free air conditioning so everything happens in them. They are mostly vertical rather than horizontal.
The Chinese market is lively but we declare ourselves wiped out by the heat and the sweat. The whole city but particularly Chinatown is bedecked with red lanterns because Chinese new year is on January 26th and apparently is as ubiquitous as Christmas in the states.
True confessions: we spend the rest of the day from about 3:00 holed up in Jeremy and Max’s apartment, reading, watching the news, catching up on email, resting. I’m not pleased to discover that my State Credit Union checking/savings account has begun charging NSF fees for transferring money from savings to checking; that’s the bad news. The good news is that the credit card fraud department is already checking to see if someone has stolen my card and is using it in Hong Kong and KL. Of course I had notified them in advance that I would be in Asia...... Nothing about preparing for this trip has been easy or done only once. Max whipped us up three courses of wonderful Thai dishes and we dined sumptuously and in air conditioned comfort.
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
Wednesday evening, January 7
The international terminal at LAX on a Wednesday night is a busy, multi-cultural place, a cacophony of languages, skin tones, life speeds. Cindy and I certainly stand out in this mostly Asian crowd but no one is paying any attention. Many little kids and babies.
The fifteen hour flight on Cathay Pacific to KL is great and we emerge rested and unscathed. Our first experience on a 747 is a good one. Thanks to Charlie we have bulkhead seats - just enough room to prop our legs on the wall ahead which is how we sleep. Dozens of movies available on command. Dinner is served within an hour; after all, it is almost midnight Pacific time and 2 pm THURSDAY at our destination. I watched Road to Rodanthe which is highly forgettable but served to put me to sleep for six hours - along with my always present mother’s little helpers. At 1 am, we wake up reasonably refreshed, read, are served breakfast (a checken flavored rice porridge) at about 3 and emerge in Hong Kong. We have been in the dark for almost 24 hours because we have been continuously moving west.
Friday, January 9 (we’ve crossed the international dateline and Thursday doesn’t happen for us)
The Hong Kong airport is the most .... Well most everything. Huge, clean, efficient, user friendly. Of course it is 6 in the morning and most of the shops and restaurants aren’t open. We take sponge bathes in the spacious rest room, Cindy dawns her new travel skirt, and we settle in at a breakfast bar for our second breakfast and are easily able to connect wirelessly to the internet. My carefully constructed Google homepage with the NY Times, CNN, the Indian Times, the Onion, my horoscope (both Cancer and my rising sign, Virgo, as Evie has instructed me) comes up in Chinese but I am able to get me email. My reply to a note from Dennis and Nancy in Mumbai disappears into the ether, however.
We are here in HK waiting for a four hour flight to KL on Air Asia. We are fortunate to discover that the Air Asia flight actually leaves two hours earlier than we knew..... Cindy and I had spent two days weighing and repacking our luggage to meet the very strict weight requirements of 33 pounds for the checked bag and 15 for the carry on and I am prepared to pay for the 8 pounds I simply can’t eliminate - and no one even checks. Another huge plane filled with what appears to be students and young professionals heading for the warmth of a weekend in Malaysia. Cindy and I both get window seats for great views of the islands (reminding me of Greece) and the palm tree canopy of the mainland. Luscious and green. One must pay even for water but US$ is accepted along with the Malaysian ringgit.
The airport is efficient, we glide easily through customs, the luggage arrives, and emerge to a blast of hot, humid air. We note that there are many cleaners, all women with head scarves. I’m still in my jeans and have to keep the red shawl on so Max can find us so I’m melting. We stand curbside for quite awhile before realizing that we have walked right past her, looking cool and as fecund as the rainforest around us. She has made the trip out to the airport by bus and has a taxi ready to take us into the city. Driving into town makes me think of a Caribbean island, lush, green, and rather rural looking.
This quickly gives way to crazy traffic and the bustle of a big Asian city. Jeremy and Max have a beautiful three bedroom, three bath apartment on the eighth floor of a 32 floor building with walls of windows overlooking another huge building going up, evidence of the building and population explosion in KL. We make a quick change of clothes and walk to the relatively new KLCC - Kuala Lumpur Convention Center - which is comprised of the famous Petronas twin towers and a manmade park. The first six floors are filled with expensive world class shops like one would find on Wisconsin Avenue in Chevy Chase and food courts and even grocery stores. Max, Cindy and I grab some sauteed vegetables for a total of 80 cents. Max says that, like most Asian cities, it is cheaper to eat out that at home. The mall is crawling with people, almost all the women wearing headscarves. Malysia is officially a Muslim country and it is the 60% of the population who are Malays that is Muslim, but a secular Muslim mostly observed in modest dress, no alcohol and no pork. 25% of the population is Chinese who, while they are the successful entrepreneurs and bankers, are politically passive, not needing the government subsidies that the Malays receive. Indians make up 7% of the 25 million population and are usually at the bottom of the food chain, making up the majority of security guards and blue collar workers; they are also heavily represented in law and medicine, however.
When we get home, our deputy political officer at the US Embassy KL has arrived at home having completed the 20 minute walk from the Embassy. Jeremy is the same age as my son Scott and we became friends during our A100 days with the State Department. His history is replete with experiences and decisions that aren’t typical. A Jew at West Point; a West Point graduate who joins the State Dept. rather than the Pentagon (although he served two tours in Bosnia during the 90s); a man with Hebrew, Arabic, and German language skills whose first assignment is Bangkok; a lawyer/MBA grad who is a diplomat. We couldn’t be more different as he is type A and I type C at best; I old enough to be his mother. But we have been close friends for six years now; in fact Jan 13 is the sixth anniversary of our first day as the 111th A100 class joining the Department of State under Colin Powell’s Diplomatic Readiness Initiative, a move to try to correct the attrition to which State has been subjected while the Pentagon has flourished. While all the recruits from that period have advanced to mid-level positions by now, they have also been sucked into the black holes of Iraq and Afghanistan so the diplomatic core is desperately in needed of Hillary’s pledged beefing up. We have arrived during the second week of the Israeli bombardment of Gaza and, like most countries around the world, there are protests against the American Embassy and businesses - especially in Muslim countries where there is no Israeli Embassy. As deputy political counselor, this is Jeremy's concern.
Jeremy, Max, Cindy, and I head out for dinner at the Westin Hotel’s Italian restaurant. Daring in all other ways, Jeremy does not have wide-ranging epicurean tastes, tending mostly towards pizza and American cereal; nothing green, not ever. I have what is probably the last glass of wine I’ll see for awhile. It is hot, hot, hot and we go by cab, that heavens.
Saturday, January 10
A great ten hour night’s sleep later, we are ready to experience KL by day. Not as congested as I’d expected but still borderline third world, KL has enjoyed a major explosion in building and population. Bustling but not packed. Sidewalks but precarious grates over mysterious channels, sometimes flowing with smelly liquid, mostly dry and filled with leaves and plastic bags; terrifying traffic that makes us choose pedestrian overpasses. We experience three of the four modes of transportation on Saturday although none of them is coordinated with the other. Buses and the underground metro and overhead train are not connected or compatible. The underground and the overhead do not leave from the same stations or have the same tickets or booths. I’m counting taxis as the fourth form and we don’t take a bus, the cheapest mode of travel.
We walk through what is supposed to be a neighborhood containing vestiges of the colonial past but darned if we see any. We’re drenched pretty quickly, take the monorail to another section of the city where we eat in a Chinese restaurant - no headscarves here. We walk through a fabulous market - open air but under cover where, given the heat and the third world nature of things, we are surprised by the cleanliness and lack of flies and dirt. Amazing unidentifiable produce; a teaming barrel of snails in mud; thousands of dead chickens with their feet reaching for the sky; cows feet (never pigs because this is a Muslim country); fruits and vegetables and spices.
We walk towards China town and through two more malls, one which is all electronic, and one which reminds you of any American mall on a Saturday afternoon, teaming with teens texting on their cell phones and checking out the latest fashions. Malls are ubiquitous because they provide free air conditioning so everything happens in them. They are mostly vertical rather than horizontal.
The Chinese market is lively but we declare ourselves wiped out by the heat and the sweat. The whole city but particularly Chinatown is bedecked with red lanterns because Chinese new year is on January 26th and apparently is as ubiquitous as Christmas in the states.
True confessions: we spend the rest of the day from about 3:00 holed up in Jeremy and Max’s apartment, reading, watching the news, catching up on email, resting. I’m not pleased to discover that my State Credit Union checking/savings account has begun charging NSF fees for transferring money from savings to checking; that’s the bad news. The good news is that the credit card fraud department is already checking to see if someone has stolen my card and is using it in Hong Kong and KL. Of course I had notified them in advance that I would be in Asia...... Nothing about preparing for this trip has been easy or done only once. Max whipped us up three courses of wonderful Thai dishes and we dined sumptuously and in air conditioned comfort.
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