April 25, Kochi, India. I'm not the first person willing to travel great distances for a good meal. Marco Polo, Vasco da Gama, and a countless parade of trader/explorers have come to Kochi (formerly Cochin) since ancient times to get spices and other items that were just not available back home. This city claims the distinction of being ground-zero for the ancient spice trade with Europe and China. Today they are upgrading their port facilities to compete with the likes of Singapore and Manila. They claim their state, Kerala, is the wealthiest in India.
On our tour we notice it is much cleaner than the previous Indian city we visited - Chennai. Not as much trash here, and slightly more upscale - even the cows have a bit more pep in their step. Like most of India however, they do have serious water pollution problems. The iconic Chinese fishing nets lining the waterfront have been reduced to tourist attractions. The locals apologize that these ancient nets no longer catch fish - too polluted they say.
It's a low-rise city, very spread out with a large harbor. We visit the St. Francis CSI Church, the oldest European church in India, built in 1503. The Portuguese explorer Vasco da Gama died here and was buried in this church. One hundred and fifty years later, the Dutch Protestants came to India to fight against the Catholics, or as the Europeans at the time called it, 'an away game.' The Dutch won and this church became Protestant for a while, until the British ousted them and made it an Anglican church. Today it's just a place for Indian peddlers and beggars to ply their trade, hoping to ensnare the tourists that stop here to glimpse some history. War games still exist here, as India remains alert against their neighboring enemy, Pakistan. However today most of the enthusiasm for military battle has been replaced by a devotion to sporting events. India recently won the world cup of cricket - a cause for celebration and pride for fans in this nation. Sri Lanka won it a few years ago, and in both countries we've seen youths playing sandlot cricket.
Historically Kochi provided refuge to many non-Hindus, so today it is one of very few Indian cities without a Hindu majority. Today it has substantial populations of Christians, Muslims, Jews and other non-Hindus. There is a huge synagogue here, though we don't see it. While we hear about some of the history, culture and modern economy here, we don't actually see it. Our interactions are mostly limited to street peddlers and tour guides, plus of course the ubiquitous Rubber Stamp People. We bargain with a few peddlers, who once again we find very friendly. Knowing their core niceness makes us more accepting of their remarkable persistence. Otherwise we would interpret such persistence as annoying.
After a number of hours on tour buses, we concoct an alternate theory at to why so many Indian people walk rather than ride in motorized vehicles. The roads are mostly horrible - an endless series of potholes interrupted occasionally with patches of pavement. Not good for back muscles. Much smarter to simply walk. On the plus side, tour buses have air conditioning, which provides some relief from the oppressive heat and humidity.
Our tour in Kochi comes to an end. We board our ship to continue sailing up the west coast of India, along the Arabian Sea, headed to the huge metropolis of Mumbai, formerly Bombay.
For photos, see Brigit's blog at http://anchorsawaygrandworldcruise.blogspot.com/
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Colombo, Sri Lanka
April 23, 24 Colombo, Sri Lanka. We arrive in the harbor of Galle, our second stop in this country. There is no deepwater dock, so we plan to drop anchor and tender passengers to shore. But the sky is dark and ominous and the seas are rough. The captain makes the decision that it is not safe to tender ashore. With no other way to visit this place, he decides to not drop anchor, and instead sail immediately for our next stop - Colombo. So we will spend an unscheduled day at sea, then tonight and tomorrow in Colombo.
The ship docks in Colombo before sunset. Early the next morning we take a 90 minutes bus ride to a seaside resort. On the way we drive through Colombo. We are pleased to see that is has very little trash - it's a relatively clean city, buzzing with people everywhere. We visit on Easter Sunday, which is not a big deal in this mostly Buddhist nation. The traffic is calm though somewhat chaotic, as buses, cars, bicycles, tuktuks (3-wheeled taxis), and various strolling mammals share the miles of pavement, obeying natural laws rather than traffic laws. We also make some detours off the main road, along a river, past people washing laundry outside their homes, through neighborhoods where people live. People smile and wave, seemingly in an angst-free zone. There is a good energy to the place.
Finally we arrive at a our destination, a very nice beach resort. It's a busy place with lots of tourists from Australia and Europe. Our task for the day is to hang out by the pool, eat and drink. Of course Brigit gets a massage, 'the best Swedish massage ever' she declares. We enjoy an elaborate and very tasty buffet lunch, colorfully themed for Easter Sunday, socializing with fellow travelers. Mission accomplished, we board our bus for the ride back home.
Heading back to the ship, the driver stays near the shore and the tour guide explains Sri Lanka's damage from the 2004 Tsunami. The area outside of Colombo was hit hard by that tragedy - we are told various estimates ranging from 40,000 to 60,000 people lost their lives here. The tour guide explains that when the water receded as a prelude to the inevitable incoming surge, many of the home owners with beachfront property ran out to post property stakes in the the now-accessible sandy ocean floor. Needless to say, they had no chance when the massive wave came rushing inland - a final lesson that ownership is fleeting - all is impermanent.
The damage was quickly repaired and today there is little evidence of that tsumami. We also make an unscheduled stop at a Batik shop, where we watch women applying the ancient skill of making Batik fabrics. Most of our small group buys something, fascinated with the process. We get back on the bus to go back home - our ship. This ends our tour of Sri Lanka. We come away with positive feelings for the people here. A nice place to visit, though very far away for those in North America.
The ship docks in Colombo before sunset. Early the next morning we take a 90 minutes bus ride to a seaside resort. On the way we drive through Colombo. We are pleased to see that is has very little trash - it's a relatively clean city, buzzing with people everywhere. We visit on Easter Sunday, which is not a big deal in this mostly Buddhist nation. The traffic is calm though somewhat chaotic, as buses, cars, bicycles, tuktuks (3-wheeled taxis), and various strolling mammals share the miles of pavement, obeying natural laws rather than traffic laws. We also make some detours off the main road, along a river, past people washing laundry outside their homes, through neighborhoods where people live. People smile and wave, seemingly in an angst-free zone. There is a good energy to the place.
Finally we arrive at a our destination, a very nice beach resort. It's a busy place with lots of tourists from Australia and Europe. Our task for the day is to hang out by the pool, eat and drink. Of course Brigit gets a massage, 'the best Swedish massage ever' she declares. We enjoy an elaborate and very tasty buffet lunch, colorfully themed for Easter Sunday, socializing with fellow travelers. Mission accomplished, we board our bus for the ride back home.
Heading back to the ship, the driver stays near the shore and the tour guide explains Sri Lanka's damage from the 2004 Tsunami. The area outside of Colombo was hit hard by that tragedy - we are told various estimates ranging from 40,000 to 60,000 people lost their lives here. The tour guide explains that when the water receded as a prelude to the inevitable incoming surge, many of the home owners with beachfront property ran out to post property stakes in the the now-accessible sandy ocean floor. Needless to say, they had no chance when the massive wave came rushing inland - a final lesson that ownership is fleeting - all is impermanent.
The damage was quickly repaired and today there is little evidence of that tsumami. We also make an unscheduled stop at a Batik shop, where we watch women applying the ancient skill of making Batik fabrics. Most of our small group buys something, fascinated with the process. We get back on the bus to go back home - our ship. This ends our tour of Sri Lanka. We come away with positive feelings for the people here. A nice place to visit, though very far away for those in North America.
Trincomalee, Sri Lanka
April 22, Trincomalee, Sri Lanka. As we sail from India's east coast toward its west coast, we stop to visit Sri Lanka. Until today I knew nothing about this country. Now, after a full day here I know some basics. Sri Lanka is an island nation near the southern tip of India. Roughly 25,000 square miles with a population around 20 million. It's a hot and humid place with lush green tropical landscape. A major producer of cinnamon, tea, coffee, coconuts and rubber.
Formerly a British colony, they gained independence in 1948. For much of the past few decades, they kept busy with their very own civil war. That intramural event began in 1983, and except for a few time-outs, lasted until 2009. It was mostly confined to the northern part of the island. It ended in a tie, though it did claim some 100,000 lives and temporarily reduced tourism revenue. Today they are at peace and everyone says that matters are well under control - no current military threats, stable politics.
In Trincomalee we enjoy a relaxed thirty minute bus ride to our destination. We drive along a barely paved road, past the same makeshift style of buildings we have seen throughout Asia. To me it appears that all poor societies use the same architectural firm - Corrugated Solutions, Inc. Ramshackle assemblies of whatever is available, topped with either thatch or some corrugated material. Some concrete buildings appear more substantial. On this less populous side of Sri Lanka the people and buildings are low density, not crowded at all. Quite a few homes are painted with bright colors, as you would expect in Caribbean islands. People wave and smile as we pass by. We wave back. Like the people and buildings, the trash is much less dense here. Skinny cows and goats wander around, though without that air of entitlement displayed by India's sacred cows. Every so often a building posts a guard outside, armed with a rifle slung over his shoulder. We wonder if they are cattle guards, there to guard the cattle, or just regular guards? Either way, they seem out of place to us - more dangerous than useful.
The traffic rolls down the middle of the road in a sort of mesmerizing collision course with oncoming objects. There are no painted lines, and any traffic rules that might exist are strictly hypothetical. The general practice seems to be that the smaller objects give way to bigger objects. So a car moves out of the way of a bus, a motorbike gives way to a car, and so on. Warm-blooded critters, such as people and cows and goats, are all given a bit of extra space. When two vehicles of the same perceived size approach, it gets more interesting. Both seem to move just far enough to avoid collision. Thankfully the traffic moves slowly and there is not very much of it. It's fun to watch for a while.
We arrive at a beachside resort to spend a lazy day. The Sri Lankan people I meet here are genuinely friendly, eager to please the tourists who bring much needed business. The food is excellent, the beach and ocean are clean. The water is very warm, great for swimming. I learn that a standard room in the hotel, including three meals/day and unlimited internet, costs $150. Brigit gets massage treatments - a shirodhara and deep Swedish massage. The massage facilities are rustic, not in the way of some chic design, but in the way of an authentic jungle facility. The spa staff however are excellent, and Brigit emerges a satisfied customer. Cost for the two hour treatment is just $80 - low, but not as low as we expect considering their weak economy and low wages. Similar treatments are no doubt available outside of the resort at a fraction of that price. The hotel is not the fanciest place by any means, but the people are very nice, the food is excellent, the air and water are clean. With no expectations, this turns into a very pleasant day.
I speak at length with Upul, one of the hotel staff anxious to meet foreigners and learn about them. He is 23 years old, so the first 20 years of his life were amidst civil war. He speaks very good English as well as his native Sinhala. He tells me about his country. About 70% Buddhist, the rest being Christian, Muslim, or Hindu. Not much industry, so jobs are scarce. His parents are rice farmers. Many are fishermen, some work in textiles. Others simply do what poor people in all countries do: they move to a rich country to work and send remittances back home. Upul does not have a computer and rarely get access to one. Would like to go to college but has no money. He gives me his phone number (doesn't have email) and says he can provide tourist services if I return to visit Sri Lanka. Says there are also very nice resorts in the mountains and nice villas to rent.
We leave the resort and ride back to the ship, past more smiling faces, more skinny cows, into the light traffic that meanders randomly on the road. As the ship pulls away from the dock, a few dozen people stand at the edge of the pier and wave. So from our balcony we wave back, touched by their warm appreciation for our patronage.
Formerly a British colony, they gained independence in 1948. For much of the past few decades, they kept busy with their very own civil war. That intramural event began in 1983, and except for a few time-outs, lasted until 2009. It was mostly confined to the northern part of the island. It ended in a tie, though it did claim some 100,000 lives and temporarily reduced tourism revenue. Today they are at peace and everyone says that matters are well under control - no current military threats, stable politics.
In Trincomalee we enjoy a relaxed thirty minute bus ride to our destination. We drive along a barely paved road, past the same makeshift style of buildings we have seen throughout Asia. To me it appears that all poor societies use the same architectural firm - Corrugated Solutions, Inc. Ramshackle assemblies of whatever is available, topped with either thatch or some corrugated material. Some concrete buildings appear more substantial. On this less populous side of Sri Lanka the people and buildings are low density, not crowded at all. Quite a few homes are painted with bright colors, as you would expect in Caribbean islands. People wave and smile as we pass by. We wave back. Like the people and buildings, the trash is much less dense here. Skinny cows and goats wander around, though without that air of entitlement displayed by India's sacred cows. Every so often a building posts a guard outside, armed with a rifle slung over his shoulder. We wonder if they are cattle guards, there to guard the cattle, or just regular guards? Either way, they seem out of place to us - more dangerous than useful.
The traffic rolls down the middle of the road in a sort of mesmerizing collision course with oncoming objects. There are no painted lines, and any traffic rules that might exist are strictly hypothetical. The general practice seems to be that the smaller objects give way to bigger objects. So a car moves out of the way of a bus, a motorbike gives way to a car, and so on. Warm-blooded critters, such as people and cows and goats, are all given a bit of extra space. When two vehicles of the same perceived size approach, it gets more interesting. Both seem to move just far enough to avoid collision. Thankfully the traffic moves slowly and there is not very much of it. It's fun to watch for a while.
We arrive at a beachside resort to spend a lazy day. The Sri Lankan people I meet here are genuinely friendly, eager to please the tourists who bring much needed business. The food is excellent, the beach and ocean are clean. The water is very warm, great for swimming. I learn that a standard room in the hotel, including three meals/day and unlimited internet, costs $150. Brigit gets massage treatments - a shirodhara and deep Swedish massage. The massage facilities are rustic, not in the way of some chic design, but in the way of an authentic jungle facility. The spa staff however are excellent, and Brigit emerges a satisfied customer. Cost for the two hour treatment is just $80 - low, but not as low as we expect considering their weak economy and low wages. Similar treatments are no doubt available outside of the resort at a fraction of that price. The hotel is not the fanciest place by any means, but the people are very nice, the food is excellent, the air and water are clean. With no expectations, this turns into a very pleasant day.
I speak at length with Upul, one of the hotel staff anxious to meet foreigners and learn about them. He is 23 years old, so the first 20 years of his life were amidst civil war. He speaks very good English as well as his native Sinhala. He tells me about his country. About 70% Buddhist, the rest being Christian, Muslim, or Hindu. Not much industry, so jobs are scarce. His parents are rice farmers. Many are fishermen, some work in textiles. Others simply do what poor people in all countries do: they move to a rich country to work and send remittances back home. Upul does not have a computer and rarely get access to one. Would like to go to college but has no money. He gives me his phone number (doesn't have email) and says he can provide tourist services if I return to visit Sri Lanka. Says there are also very nice resorts in the mountains and nice villas to rent.
We leave the resort and ride back to the ship, past more smiling faces, more skinny cows, into the light traffic that meanders randomly on the road. As the ship pulls away from the dock, a few dozen people stand at the edge of the pier and wave. So from our balcony we wave back, touched by their warm appreciation for our patronage.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Chennai, India
April 19-20, Chennai, India. A lot has been written about India, and now it's our turn to see it up close. Our stop in this city, formerly called Madras, was not part of the original itinerary. We were supposed to visit the country of Myanmar (formerly Burma), but that nation has been placed in the Regent Cruise Line's penalty box, ostensibly for bad behavior. Some veteran passengers challenge this move, claiming other cruise lines are still visiting Myanmar, and that it's a more interesting place than Chennai. Perhaps.
Interesting or not, seeing the dirty underside of a country is a good thing. Chennai may not be a pleasant place to visit, but it helps balance our story. It's a city that cruise ships rarely visit. Their port is an aging, unattractive coal transfer facility, so the air is filled with coal dust. After parking here for two days, the ship becomes filthy and must be scrubbed from top to bottom. Not much fun to breathe either. We are told they have a thriving IT community and we do actually see some buildings belonging to big multinational corporations. They also have universities, lots of engineers and a big Bollywood industry here.
Our first interaction with the people of Chennai begins with their elaborate bureaucracy. The Dance of the Rubber Stamp People. Clues to their penchant for paperwork began months ago with the visa process. Unlike any other country, they require a marriage certificate and birth certificate to obtain a one week visa. There is a two page form with lots of questions: did you go to college?; where do you summer?; boxers or briefs?. Once in port, the barrage continues. We must carry our passport AND a copy of our passport. We must complete a customs form declaring important items we will carry ashore - camera, make and model; cell phone, make and model. A clerk scrupulously inspects our customs form before allowing us to offboard. With solemn ritual, he applies the sacred red rubber stamp to our papers. We begin to suspect that the red dot that all Indians wear on their forehead is really a rubber stamp of approval. Officially approved, we enter the fray.
Driving into, through and past the city reveals a seemingly chaotic mix of aging concrete buildings, ramshackle huts with corrugated metal roofs, and clean shiny colonial buildings surrounded by nicely manicured lawns and tall iron fences, occupied by the police. People in the shacks sell every imaginable food or product. There are vast numbers of people everywhere except for the police stations. For the city portion of the two hour bus ride, the place is crowded with an endless parade of people. Some moving, some sitting, women in colorful saris, men in less colorful, mostly non-descript clothes. Some shoes, mostly flip-flops, some barefoot. Many more motorbikes than cars, and many of the cars are the local Tata Motors. Some bicycles, many travel by foot. Some folks look at our bus and wave or smile. Most of the people seem happy or at least wear expressions of contentment. A few soreheads are interspersed among the crowds. For westerners this is part of the mystery of India, as well as other poor places. Why are poor people so happy? What do they know that we don't?
Along these roadsides, with the crowds of people and makeshift shacks, there is lots of garbage. Trash lines the streets, trash fills empty lots, there is trash everywhere. And then there are cows - not your commercially efficient feedlot bovines. India's sacred cows roam freely, eat trash, and mingle with the crowds. The more plentiful goats do the same, though have not achieved sacred status. There are also quite a few dogs and cats. All of them, the animals and people, share a common trait: they are skinny. Sure, occasionally we see a fat cow or a well-fed person, but for the most part India is a nation of skinny mammals.
On our tour we visit a few unremarkable temples in this Hindu nation, where street vendors try to sell us hand-carved trinkets or postcards or scarves. Prices are ridiculously low, and we cannot help but notice that while somewhat assertive, the Indian peddlers are far less aggressive than Chinese peddlers. There is an undeniable niceness to the Indian people. You can't spend one day here without noticing it. Even the annoying, pushy peddlers are, at their core, nice. They just can't hide it.
Beyond the city, we pass a massively wide, very long sandy beach crowded with people on this very hot, humid day. The Indian ocean is the warmest in the world, with water averaging about 82 degrees F. The tsunami in December 2004 hit this particular beach and we are told that it swallowed 10,000 lives. Not too many people wandering the roads once out of the city, so we can see some greenery and hills. In the countryside there is still trash, though less of it.
Our tour finally ends up at a very nice resort, sequestered away from the masses, where we enjoy a delicious Indian meal. We love Indian food, and notice that it tastes better here than back home. Perhaps fresher spices, or just better know-how than elsewhere. The staff are incurably nice. We finish our eight-hour tour, the first of several scheduled in this country. Too early to draw conclusions, though my food-centric brain automatically gives extra points to any country that produces such tasty meals.
We will spend the next several days in Sri Lanka, then return for two more stops in this populous nation.
For photos see Brigit's blog: http://anchorsawaygrandworldcruise.blogspot.com/ (coming soon)
Interesting or not, seeing the dirty underside of a country is a good thing. Chennai may not be a pleasant place to visit, but it helps balance our story. It's a city that cruise ships rarely visit. Their port is an aging, unattractive coal transfer facility, so the air is filled with coal dust. After parking here for two days, the ship becomes filthy and must be scrubbed from top to bottom. Not much fun to breathe either. We are told they have a thriving IT community and we do actually see some buildings belonging to big multinational corporations. They also have universities, lots of engineers and a big Bollywood industry here.
Our first interaction with the people of Chennai begins with their elaborate bureaucracy. The Dance of the Rubber Stamp People. Clues to their penchant for paperwork began months ago with the visa process. Unlike any other country, they require a marriage certificate and birth certificate to obtain a one week visa. There is a two page form with lots of questions: did you go to college?; where do you summer?; boxers or briefs?. Once in port, the barrage continues. We must carry our passport AND a copy of our passport. We must complete a customs form declaring important items we will carry ashore - camera, make and model; cell phone, make and model. A clerk scrupulously inspects our customs form before allowing us to offboard. With solemn ritual, he applies the sacred red rubber stamp to our papers. We begin to suspect that the red dot that all Indians wear on their forehead is really a rubber stamp of approval. Officially approved, we enter the fray.
Driving into, through and past the city reveals a seemingly chaotic mix of aging concrete buildings, ramshackle huts with corrugated metal roofs, and clean shiny colonial buildings surrounded by nicely manicured lawns and tall iron fences, occupied by the police. People in the shacks sell every imaginable food or product. There are vast numbers of people everywhere except for the police stations. For the city portion of the two hour bus ride, the place is crowded with an endless parade of people. Some moving, some sitting, women in colorful saris, men in less colorful, mostly non-descript clothes. Some shoes, mostly flip-flops, some barefoot. Many more motorbikes than cars, and many of the cars are the local Tata Motors. Some bicycles, many travel by foot. Some folks look at our bus and wave or smile. Most of the people seem happy or at least wear expressions of contentment. A few soreheads are interspersed among the crowds. For westerners this is part of the mystery of India, as well as other poor places. Why are poor people so happy? What do they know that we don't?
Along these roadsides, with the crowds of people and makeshift shacks, there is lots of garbage. Trash lines the streets, trash fills empty lots, there is trash everywhere. And then there are cows - not your commercially efficient feedlot bovines. India's sacred cows roam freely, eat trash, and mingle with the crowds. The more plentiful goats do the same, though have not achieved sacred status. There are also quite a few dogs and cats. All of them, the animals and people, share a common trait: they are skinny. Sure, occasionally we see a fat cow or a well-fed person, but for the most part India is a nation of skinny mammals.
On our tour we visit a few unremarkable temples in this Hindu nation, where street vendors try to sell us hand-carved trinkets or postcards or scarves. Prices are ridiculously low, and we cannot help but notice that while somewhat assertive, the Indian peddlers are far less aggressive than Chinese peddlers. There is an undeniable niceness to the Indian people. You can't spend one day here without noticing it. Even the annoying, pushy peddlers are, at their core, nice. They just can't hide it.
Beyond the city, we pass a massively wide, very long sandy beach crowded with people on this very hot, humid day. The Indian ocean is the warmest in the world, with water averaging about 82 degrees F. The tsunami in December 2004 hit this particular beach and we are told that it swallowed 10,000 lives. Not too many people wandering the roads once out of the city, so we can see some greenery and hills. In the countryside there is still trash, though less of it.
Our tour finally ends up at a very nice resort, sequestered away from the masses, where we enjoy a delicious Indian meal. We love Indian food, and notice that it tastes better here than back home. Perhaps fresher spices, or just better know-how than elsewhere. The staff are incurably nice. We finish our eight-hour tour, the first of several scheduled in this country. Too early to draw conclusions, though my food-centric brain automatically gives extra points to any country that produces such tasty meals.
We will spend the next several days in Sri Lanka, then return for two more stops in this populous nation.
For photos see Brigit's blog: http://anchorsawaygrandworldcruise.blogspot.com/ (coming soon)
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Four Ports - Malay Peninsula
April 13, Singapore. We decide to skip the planned tour - we are temporarily tired of tours, plus I've seen this city before. Just want to relax, enjoy a good meal. We leave the ship and discover a huge shopping mall connected to the boat terminal. Brigit browses and we eat at an Indian restaurant, busy with the lunch-time office crowd. You can read all about Singapore, though I'll summarize for you. It is an extremely well-run city-state, not nearly as polluted as most Asian cities. Population around 5.5 million. Situated on an island off the southern tip of the Malaysian peninsula, not far from the equator. Land mass is just 250 sq. miles - roughly 16 miles square. With little land and few natural resources, this hot, humid place has managed to become one of the wealthiest countries on the planet - exactly as the visionary Raffles intended 200 years ago. A good example of democracy/free markets at work. A paradise for entrepreneurs and shoppers, a multi-cultural society living in peace and prosperity.
April 14 - Kuala Lumpur. Again we decide to skip the tour - not yet in the mood for bus rides. Instead we negotiate a cab ride to the city - about 1 hour. On the ride from the port to the city, we both make the same observation - the area reminds us of the the 680 corridor from San Ramon to Pleasanton in northern California. Similar condos, office parks, freeway. Certainly not what we were expecting in Malaysia. Driving through the city, the air conditioning in our taxi stops, so the driver pulls over, gets out, lifts the hood, and uses his pocket knife to fix it. He gets back in and the air conditioning now works.
Traffic in Kuala Lumpur seems orderly, though pollution is heavy. Oddly, when we step out of the cab in front of the mall, there is a uniformed man with a short rifle slung over his shoulder. Everyone seems to ignore him. I sneak a photo on my cell phone.
We visit a brand new shopping mall called the Pavillion, located a few blocks from the iconic Petronas towers - formerly the tallest buildings in the world. While in the Pavillion we wander about hunting for the perfect sunglasses for Brigit. Despite the presence of dozens of high-end, overpriced retail stores, our search fails. In this Malaysian capital we do however find a good Thai restaurant and enjoy a nice meal, served by a Philippine waiter who speaks perfect English. Most of the customers are Malaysian muslims, the women all wearing headscarves. As expected, they don't have real Thai ice tea - that is only available in the U.S. and Europe, not Asia.
The mall is crowded with shoppers, some women in head scarves, a very few in burkas. However mostly young Malaysians dressed similarly to westerners. Stores are very westernized with the same provocative marketing displays found in most of the world. Products are the same as found worldwide, though sizes are for Asians, not westerners. I try to compensate and buy two shirts, then have a tailor sew them together. Now the shirt fits, but it has four sleeves. Only good for a Hindu deity.
When we finish shopping, we return to the taxi stand where remarkably, the driver is there as promised - four hours of waiting to take us back to our ship. We make the one-hour return journey with the same driver in the same cab and leave Kuala Lumpur with only a slight, though overall favorable impression. We don't see anything remarkable about the place. Or perhaps we are just becoming familiar with Asia.
April 15, Penang Malaysia. Our second stop in this country, today we take a 3-hour tour via trishaw, a contraption in which the driver pedals and his two customers sit in a small seat in front of him; a cross between a tricycle and a rickshaw. A group of us go on this tour, so we form somewhat of a caravan of trishaws pedaling through an older part of town known as Georgetown, now a UNESCO world cultural heritage site.
In this former colonial area we see a neighborhood known as little India, good practice for our upcoming visit to big India. The traffic is mellow here, not too fast or dangerous - very good for trishaws. First stop is a mansion built around 1875 by a wealthy businessman in Penang. The impressive part of his story is that he migrated from China as a young man, penniless, worked in the tin mines, and gradually became one of the wealthiest men of the area - a Malaysian version of the Horatio Alger story. Then we visit some Hindu temples, then finally relax at a tea-time in a nice hotel, chatting with other travelers. After the tour we wander through some shopping malls, low-end retail for the locals here. Very low prices - great bargains.
April 16, Phuket Thailand. The local taxi driver union has managed to prevent the ship's shuttle bus from operating, so instead of docking in the small town on this island, we anchor on the west side, a few hundred yards from a public beach and string of resorts. We tender onto shore and head straight to the resorts in search of a good massage. On the way we are solicited by dozens of taxi drivers looking for customers. We decline their offers, but some follow us for three or four blocks still trying to generate business.
We finally find a nice looking resort and schedule some treatments. Brigit gets a Thai, a Swedish AND a foot massage. I get a Thai massage and a facial. Always good massages in Thailand, and prices are quite low compared to U.S. - maybe a quarter of what we would pay in a good western hotel. Next we hang out on the beach for a while. Located in the Andaman sea off the west coast of this same beach was hit hard by the massive tsunami that struck this part of the world back in December 2004. We are told that 3,200 Thai people lost their lives right here, and probably many non-Thai as well. They say the water reached as far inland as three blocks. For the most part the damage was repaired and rebuilt within a year, and today Phuket remains a popular destination among European and Australian travelers. After a lazy day here, we head back to the ship, finished with our tour of southeast Asia. Tonight we sail west toward India.
April 14 - Kuala Lumpur. Again we decide to skip the tour - not yet in the mood for bus rides. Instead we negotiate a cab ride to the city - about 1 hour. On the ride from the port to the city, we both make the same observation - the area reminds us of the the 680 corridor from San Ramon to Pleasanton in northern California. Similar condos, office parks, freeway. Certainly not what we were expecting in Malaysia. Driving through the city, the air conditioning in our taxi stops, so the driver pulls over, gets out, lifts the hood, and uses his pocket knife to fix it. He gets back in and the air conditioning now works.
Traffic in Kuala Lumpur seems orderly, though pollution is heavy. Oddly, when we step out of the cab in front of the mall, there is a uniformed man with a short rifle slung over his shoulder. Everyone seems to ignore him. I sneak a photo on my cell phone.
We visit a brand new shopping mall called the Pavillion, located a few blocks from the iconic Petronas towers - formerly the tallest buildings in the world. While in the Pavillion we wander about hunting for the perfect sunglasses for Brigit. Despite the presence of dozens of high-end, overpriced retail stores, our search fails. In this Malaysian capital we do however find a good Thai restaurant and enjoy a nice meal, served by a Philippine waiter who speaks perfect English. Most of the customers are Malaysian muslims, the women all wearing headscarves. As expected, they don't have real Thai ice tea - that is only available in the U.S. and Europe, not Asia.
The mall is crowded with shoppers, some women in head scarves, a very few in burkas. However mostly young Malaysians dressed similarly to westerners. Stores are very westernized with the same provocative marketing displays found in most of the world. Products are the same as found worldwide, though sizes are for Asians, not westerners. I try to compensate and buy two shirts, then have a tailor sew them together. Now the shirt fits, but it has four sleeves. Only good for a Hindu deity.
When we finish shopping, we return to the taxi stand where remarkably, the driver is there as promised - four hours of waiting to take us back to our ship. We make the one-hour return journey with the same driver in the same cab and leave Kuala Lumpur with only a slight, though overall favorable impression. We don't see anything remarkable about the place. Or perhaps we are just becoming familiar with Asia.
April 15, Penang Malaysia. Our second stop in this country, today we take a 3-hour tour via trishaw, a contraption in which the driver pedals and his two customers sit in a small seat in front of him; a cross between a tricycle and a rickshaw. A group of us go on this tour, so we form somewhat of a caravan of trishaws pedaling through an older part of town known as Georgetown, now a UNESCO world cultural heritage site.
In this former colonial area we see a neighborhood known as little India, good practice for our upcoming visit to big India. The traffic is mellow here, not too fast or dangerous - very good for trishaws. First stop is a mansion built around 1875 by a wealthy businessman in Penang. The impressive part of his story is that he migrated from China as a young man, penniless, worked in the tin mines, and gradually became one of the wealthiest men of the area - a Malaysian version of the Horatio Alger story. Then we visit some Hindu temples, then finally relax at a tea-time in a nice hotel, chatting with other travelers. After the tour we wander through some shopping malls, low-end retail for the locals here. Very low prices - great bargains.
April 16, Phuket Thailand. The local taxi driver union has managed to prevent the ship's shuttle bus from operating, so instead of docking in the small town on this island, we anchor on the west side, a few hundred yards from a public beach and string of resorts. We tender onto shore and head straight to the resorts in search of a good massage. On the way we are solicited by dozens of taxi drivers looking for customers. We decline their offers, but some follow us for three or four blocks still trying to generate business.
We finally find a nice looking resort and schedule some treatments. Brigit gets a Thai, a Swedish AND a foot massage. I get a Thai massage and a facial. Always good massages in Thailand, and prices are quite low compared to U.S. - maybe a quarter of what we would pay in a good western hotel. Next we hang out on the beach for a while. Located in the Andaman sea off the west coast of this same beach was hit hard by the massive tsunami that struck this part of the world back in December 2004. We are told that 3,200 Thai people lost their lives right here, and probably many non-Thai as well. They say the water reached as far inland as three blocks. For the most part the damage was repaired and rebuilt within a year, and today Phuket remains a popular destination among European and Australian travelers. After a lazy day here, we head back to the ship, finished with our tour of southeast Asia. Tonight we sail west toward India.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Bangkok, Thailand
Next day we tour the floating market located in a water village a few hours outside of Bangkok. Built on waterways like Venice, but in a jungle. Mostly rough, handmade homes, but a few substantial mini-mansions interspersed among the modest dwellings. We observe women doing laundry in the river, beating each garment to clean it. They smile as we float by. At the market, there are mostly tourists though also some locals. Great bargains for a wide variety of products, many sold by vendors on small canoe-type boats. Brigit transforms herself into a hyper-focused shopper and finds a dozen bargains. I focus on my role in the food chain - my only purchase is a dozen tiny coconut pancakes - delicious. Overall a pleasant, colorful and interesting experience. Next we visit a large, ornate Buddhist temple crowded with worshipers - always enjoy the energy of the Thai people.
Then back to the city. Bangkok is huge - 12 million people, mostly Buddhist (95%). Genuine Buddhists live in the moment. This contributes to their overall happiness, though does nothing to improve their skills in long-range planning. Such lack of planning becomes evident in the chaotic layout and appearance of Bangkok. It is not an attractive city. The good news is that the Thai people are not easily bothered - they readily accept things as they are. The unattractive city does not seem to be a problem for them. Problem or not, there is lots of smog and bad traffic in this capital. A flat and wide-spread city, many of its original waterways have been paved over. The guide claims that traffic accidents are the third leading cause of death in Thailand. I assume that the leading cause of death is birth.
As a Buddhist nation, Thais are known for their anything-goes attitude. This produces wonderfully warm, friendly, non-judgemental people, but also a darker side that Bangkok in particular is well-known for. They will party for any reason - full moon, half moon, quarter moon, while allowing certain crimes and corruption to flourish all around them. They enjoy a certain rhythm in their lives, including a new year's celebration each year, and their biannual political coup.
Unlike every other country in southeast Asia, Thailand is the only nation in this part of the world that was never occupied or colonized by outside powers, European or otherwise. Perhaps this helps to account for the nearly pure culture that continues to thrive here.
Another thing to know about Thailand is that it has perhaps the most highly-regarded medical tourism industry in the world. So for your next facelift, consider flying to Thailand, and after your procedure spend two weeks recuperating in a 5-star resort.
One curious tidbit about this country is that you cannot get a real Thai ice tea here. The Thai people don't know what it is. You have to go to the U.S. or Europe for that. Still, Thai food in Thailand is my favorite, and in my heart I have forgiven them for their culinary omission. Our brief visit here comes to an end, and like Ronald McDonald in the photo, we press our hands together in front of our hearts, bow our heads slightly and say Sa-wa-dee to Thailand. Next two days at sea.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Cambodia
April 8: My tour in Cambodia begins with a drive through the countryside, stopping to visit a small rural village. Even before we arrive at our destination, it becomes evident that this country is different. It's not the poverty or the heat or the landscape. It's not the skinny cows eating garbage by the roadside. We've seen similar conditions in other places. It's the energy of the people. In their movement, their passively sad expessions, the slowness of their driving. There is a palpable sadness that seems to permeate this place. Cambodia suffered a genocide 30 years ago that exerts a powerful influence among their society today. Our tour guide tells us a bit about this, that his grandparents were killed in that episode. He emphasizes how important it is for Cambodians to have a peaceful leader.
In the village we observe a few classrooms in progress, with children in class, maybe 8 to 10 years old, learning math. We are allowed to photograph them, and they delight in seeing their images on our cameras. We wander deeper into the village, past the school. We see many younger children, too young for school. We take their pictures as well and they too are very excited to see their images. We stay in the village for quite a while, moved by their innocence and wonder.
Some adults sit in huts along the path, tending to their small cache of goods - perhaps some fruit or meat or prepared foods. They are hoping to trade or sell this to the other villagers. We are told that many of these children have rarely or perhaps never seen westerners. A few skinny cows and water buffalo wander about. Some young men work at swinging a sledge hammer to break rocks to help decorate the ground outside the village temple. We peek inside the temple - a small but beautifully painted place for these Buddhists. The farming here is all done by hand, with the help of animals when available. There is no money for tractors or power tools.
We leave the village and visit a central marketplace in a small city. Even in this city the drivers move slowly. The market is an open-air space covered with a huge metal roof, covering perhaps 5 acres or so. There are hundreds of vendors, selling all manner of food, clothes, electronics, toys, flowers and more. There are few lights, so it is fairly dark in most of this marketplace. Most of the shoppers are locals but there are also plenty of tourists, all wandering together in the hot, humid air. Unlike anyplace we've seen in Asia, the vendors here, even in this small city, are passive. No one pushes, no one rushes. They wait quietly for you to come to them. There is almost no haggling over price. You might get 10% off the initial price, but try for more, or try the tactic of walking away, and they simply don't pursue you. There are a few beggars, but they too barely assert themselves.
Finally we visit a 5-star beach resort (Sokha Beach Resort at Sihanouk Ville) - a strange contrast to the sadness we've just seen. Time to sit on the beach, by the pool, get a massage or enjoy a meal. This is a fairly new resort, one of several in a country that is trying to attract foreign investment and tourism money. The resort is very nice, inexpensive, and has plenty of European, Russian and other tourists visiting. Maybe the investment strategy will work, as it seems to be working for Vietnam next door. For now however, the main products of Cambodia seem to be rice and small children. We later learn that some Cambodians sneak across the border into Thailand to work as domestic servants for $50 to $200 per month, often for middle class families there. I leave Cambodia with increased awareness of the place, and of the sadness they endure.
For more photos, please see Brigit's blog at http://anchorsawaygrandworldcruise.blogspot.com/
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Vietnam
April 1 - 6:
Vietnam is conveniently located at China's south border, so you can travel through China, pick up a wide range of illnesses at no cost, then visit neighboring Vietnam as a medical tourist. The best facility for such a tourist is the FV Hospital in Saigon. They offer modern, high-quality care at very low cost. So after not feeling well for nearly a week, on the advice of the ship's doctor I go to the hospital in Saigon. There I spend 6 hours in a private room, get an IV, blood test, urine test, EKG, ultrasound and CT scan. I'm examined by a clinical doctor and a surgeon. I get a total of five medications. All staff speak passable English and are professional and polite. The facility is clean and modern and as far as I can tell, they use modern equipment and techniques. Total cost is $700. After a few days their prescribed medications seem to be working. I'm a satisfied customer.
I've seen hospitals now in both Thailand and Vietnam, and must say I expect these businesses to grow as more westerners learn about their availability, quality and low cost. This growing medical tourism market is one result of the high costs of care in the U.S., and long waiting lists or lack of quality care in socialistic care systems such as Canada.
Because I was not feeling well, I remained aboard the ship when we docked in the ports of Ha Long Bay and Da Nang. All that I see of Vietnam, other than my view from the ship, is the above-mentioned hospital, and a bit of Saigon as viewed lying on my back in the ambulance. One curious thing that Brigit notices from the ambulance is that while its siren blares for the entire 35 minute ride, it makes no difference. Other drivers ignore it and no one gets out of the way.
Even though our experience in Vietnam is dominated by my medical adventure, we do manage to get a few impressions. At the first port of Ha Long Bay, Brigit went on tour and enjoyed a kayak trip through that beautiful bay. She saw fishing communities living on boats, saw some of their ingenuity and some of their poverty. She shopped a bit at some roadside stands - Vietnam has some great bargains. And she took plenty of great photos that she shares at her blog http://anchorsawaygrandworldcruise.blogspot.com.
We do get a few second-hand impressions from other passengers. The sixty mile stretch of white sand near Da Nang that Americans know as China Beach, is being heavily developed by foreign investors - many large resorts being built. Seeing the growth of medical tourism, the growing tourist infrastructure, the many apartment buildings going up in Saigon, we get an impression of a country actively pursuing modern development and economic growth. Still a lot of poverty and undeveloped areas though. We've met travelers who have returned here for longer land tours because they found it so fascinating. Like so many countries, there are layers of military history, ancient and not so ancient sagas of tragedy and heroism. But for this tour, our experience is more limited. We leave Vietnam barely getting to know it. Some medicine and copies of my CT scan are my only souvenirs.
Next stops: Cambodia & Thailand.
Vietnam is conveniently located at China's south border, so you can travel through China, pick up a wide range of illnesses at no cost, then visit neighboring Vietnam as a medical tourist. The best facility for such a tourist is the FV Hospital in Saigon. They offer modern, high-quality care at very low cost. So after not feeling well for nearly a week, on the advice of the ship's doctor I go to the hospital in Saigon. There I spend 6 hours in a private room, get an IV, blood test, urine test, EKG, ultrasound and CT scan. I'm examined by a clinical doctor and a surgeon. I get a total of five medications. All staff speak passable English and are professional and polite. The facility is clean and modern and as far as I can tell, they use modern equipment and techniques. Total cost is $700. After a few days their prescribed medications seem to be working. I'm a satisfied customer.
I've seen hospitals now in both Thailand and Vietnam, and must say I expect these businesses to grow as more westerners learn about their availability, quality and low cost. This growing medical tourism market is one result of the high costs of care in the U.S., and long waiting lists or lack of quality care in socialistic care systems such as Canada.
Because I was not feeling well, I remained aboard the ship when we docked in the ports of Ha Long Bay and Da Nang. All that I see of Vietnam, other than my view from the ship, is the above-mentioned hospital, and a bit of Saigon as viewed lying on my back in the ambulance. One curious thing that Brigit notices from the ambulance is that while its siren blares for the entire 35 minute ride, it makes no difference. Other drivers ignore it and no one gets out of the way.
Even though our experience in Vietnam is dominated by my medical adventure, we do manage to get a few impressions. At the first port of Ha Long Bay, Brigit went on tour and enjoyed a kayak trip through that beautiful bay. She saw fishing communities living on boats, saw some of their ingenuity and some of their poverty. She shopped a bit at some roadside stands - Vietnam has some great bargains. And she took plenty of great photos that she shares at her blog http://anchorsawaygrandworldcruise.blogspot.com.
We do get a few second-hand impressions from other passengers. The sixty mile stretch of white sand near Da Nang that Americans know as China Beach, is being heavily developed by foreign investors - many large resorts being built. Seeing the growth of medical tourism, the growing tourist infrastructure, the many apartment buildings going up in Saigon, we get an impression of a country actively pursuing modern development and economic growth. Still a lot of poverty and undeveloped areas though. We've met travelers who have returned here for longer land tours because they found it so fascinating. Like so many countries, there are layers of military history, ancient and not so ancient sagas of tragedy and heroism. But for this tour, our experience is more limited. We leave Vietnam barely getting to know it. Some medicine and copies of my CT scan are my only souvenirs.
Next stops: Cambodia & Thailand.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Hong Kong & Xiamen
March 27 - Xiamen, China is a mid-size city on the southeast coast of China. We are told it has population of 2.5 million and is a popular vacation destination for many Chinese tourists. We are also told, and have read that it is considered China's second most livable city. If I were the head honcho in China, I would hesitate before making such a claim, as the place seems unappealing by our standards. It has a long sandy beach which parallels a wide, nicely landscaped frontage road. There are a few modern buildings, but behind the thick landscaping of the main road, we glimpse and older, dirtier looking city that appears to date back to the Mao era. We visit a large and ornate Buddhist temple on a Sunday, crowded with worshipers, burning incense, each staying just a few minutes for their rituals. Outside the temple are a few street peddlers. The city has a major university, which we drive by and see young men playing soccer. We visit a museum dedicated to preserving the history of countless Chinese who left Xiamen searching for a better life - to build railroads in Canada or the U.S. or other promising destinations. Our guide struggles with her Chinglish, much more so than in the large cities of Shanghai and Beijing. We leave this city after just 6 hours here, mostly on the bus, so no chance to get more than a superficial impression. It appears as just another ordinary, non-famous place that is home to a few million people.
March 29/30 - The words 'Hong Kong' mean fragrant harbor. This might have made sense 400 years ago. Today however the special economic district of Hong Kong is anything but fragrant. We've been here before, twice actually, and cannot help but notice the constant growth. Like most cities of its size, it has seriously bad air pollution. Owned by China, it is a thriving economic free zone, home to some extreme wealth and a rising middle class, seven million residents and growing. Low taxes, a very business-friendly, shopping-friendly culture. It is a concrete jungle, a temple for capitalistic worship. Nature lovers need not apply.
Real estate costs far exceed salaries, so only the very wealthy have more than a few hundred square feet to call their own. Hong Kong claims the title of the world's busiest port. It also has a mind-boggling amount of retail stores. If shopping is your thing, Hong Kong is for you.
It has an attractive skyline that lights up every night in a cool laser light show, accompanied by music. Their economy is supported by the twin pillars of democracy and education and Hong Kong citizens place high value on both. We visit our son's warehouse and get a glimpse into doing business here. China is just over the border - 45 minutes by bus, so citizens of both places routinely cross that border for shopping or work or just for fun.
Then, after two days of this international city, we sail away, glad to get a break for a while from visiting noisy, polluted mega cities. We are rural people at heart, happy with clean air, surrounded by nature, no longer interested in joining in the hustle/bustle of big cities. If there was the slightest uncertainty of our personal preference for living close to nature, the rapid-fire stops in Manila, Taipei, Seoul, Beijing, Shanghai, Xiamen and Hong Kong certainly cure us of any doubt. There are city mice and there are country mice. We are country mice.
March 29/30 - The words 'Hong Kong' mean fragrant harbor. This might have made sense 400 years ago. Today however the special economic district of Hong Kong is anything but fragrant. We've been here before, twice actually, and cannot help but notice the constant growth. Like most cities of its size, it has seriously bad air pollution. Owned by China, it is a thriving economic free zone, home to some extreme wealth and a rising middle class, seven million residents and growing. Low taxes, a very business-friendly, shopping-friendly culture. It is a concrete jungle, a temple for capitalistic worship. Nature lovers need not apply.
Real estate costs far exceed salaries, so only the very wealthy have more than a few hundred square feet to call their own. Hong Kong claims the title of the world's busiest port. It also has a mind-boggling amount of retail stores. If shopping is your thing, Hong Kong is for you.
It has an attractive skyline that lights up every night in a cool laser light show, accompanied by music. Their economy is supported by the twin pillars of democracy and education and Hong Kong citizens place high value on both. We visit our son's warehouse and get a glimpse into doing business here. China is just over the border - 45 minutes by bus, so citizens of both places routinely cross that border for shopping or work or just for fun.
Then, after two days of this international city, we sail away, glad to get a break for a while from visiting noisy, polluted mega cities. We are rural people at heart, happy with clean air, surrounded by nature, no longer interested in joining in the hustle/bustle of big cities. If there was the slightest uncertainty of our personal preference for living close to nature, the rapid-fire stops in Manila, Taipei, Seoul, Beijing, Shanghai, Xiamen and Hong Kong certainly cure us of any doubt. There are city mice and there are country mice. We are country mice.
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