FAR
EAST – PART 1
Twenty-four hours is a long time to spend in the
air! That’s how long it took us to get
half-way around the world, from Orlando to Singapore. The longer of two legs, a seventeen-hour
marathon from San Francisco, was our longest flight ever. Jet-lagged, we rode the train from Changi
Airport to downtown, crammed sardine-can style into a throng of commuters. Since our room wasn’t ready, we killed a few
hours lounging in a nearby park before having lunch in Chinatown. Our hotel turned out to be a bit of a
disappointment but the bed was most welcome when we finally got horizontal
again.
Next morning saw us up bright and early, ready to
explore the nearby area on foot. Raffles Hotel, the Singapore Flyer, the Excelsior
Theatre, the Marina Bay Sands Hotel,
the Parliament Building: all of them brought back memories of the two short days
we’d spent in this incredible city-state in 2015. After a short metro ride, we were once again
in the gentle arms of Holland America
aboard the good ship MS Volendam. A sister ship of the Rotterdam, familiar to us from two previous cruises, the Volendam is rather dated but has a
certain charm nonetheless.
After spending a day at sea, we arrived at our
first port of call, Nathon on the island of Koh Samui, on February 16. After running a gauntlet of very aggressive
taxi drivers, we negotiated a fare for a three-hour visit to a waterfall and
safari park: $45 US, about half what we would have paid in the Caribbean
countries we’d visited in the fall. The hike
to the waterfall and the visit to the safari park turned out to be
worthwhile. The elephant show was the
best we’ve seen and we’d never seen a monkey trained to pick coconuts! What will they think of next?
Our next stop was Laem Chabang, the gateway port
to Bangkok. There being no other choice,
we took the Holland America shuttle
into the city. It turned out to be a
boring two and one-half hour drive on an elevated highway past endless, non-descript
commercial and industrial areas. We
could have been in any developed country, anywhere in the world. Finally off the friggin’ bus, we marched
through a busy mall, along a busier walkway, and into a frantic crowd of
passengers crowding onto the Skytrain, ever conscious of the short time we had
to see the attractions we’d been told not to miss: the Royal Palace and the Buddhist
temple complex of Wat Arun. Our guide on
the bus had given only the barest of directions on how to get where we wanted
to go. “And be back at 5:30 or we’ll
leave without you”. No tip for her!
Bangkok is a city of 15 million people. I’m from a village of about 400. The Skytrain took us to the edge of the Chao
Phraya River where we boarded a boat for the ride to the Royal Palace. Pushing, shoving, heat, traffic, horns. Christ!
What am I doing here. To enter the
Palace, I had to put on jeans to cover up my legs! It’s a beautiful Palace - of that there’s no doubt - but the crush of people took away
from what could have been a far more enjoyable experience.
Two days later, we anchored in Sihanoukville,
Cambodia, gateway port to the capital city of Phnom Penh. A shuttle took us the short distance into the
city and parked across the street from the central market. I’ve learned that there are two main
indicators of the state of development of a country: the amount of garbage
strewn around and the quality of the public transportation system. Things weren’t looking good on either
account. And there were beggars
everywhere, mothers with babes in arms, orphans and amputees -
genuinely destitute people -
all looking for a handout.
Cambodia is a poor and poorly-governed country;
third-world really. Its recent history
includes the terrible genocide of the 1970s when as many as 2 million people
were murdered by the Khmer Rouge under brutal dictator Pol Pot. If you haven’t seen the movie The Killing Fields, it’s a revelation. And Angelina Jolie recently released First They Killed My Father, also set in
the same period.
Elva and I wandered through the market for a
half-hour or so, shadowed by a determined tuk-tuk driver we just couldn’t
shake. Then we made our way back to
where our guide was and asked him to help us find a driver to take us to the
places we wanted to visit. “How much you
want to spend?”, he asked me. “About $30
for three hours”, I answered. “And it
has to be a driver who speaks English”, said Elva. Though most in the crowd around us refused, a
hand shot up eventually and we were escorted to Saron’s “car-tuk-tuk”, an
ancient converted Daewoo.
Saron turned out to be an excellent guide, very
fluent in English and very willing to talk about the country’s many
struggles. Through his example and based
on what we saw as we drove through the city, we learned that entrepreneurship may
be the only way for Cambodians to survive.
The country’s economy is growing rapidly, but crime and corruption are
rampant. One can only hope that
Sihanoukville’s beaches will one day bring prosperity to the beautiful people
we met there.
Our next port of call was Phu My, gateway to Ho Chi Min City, the former Saigon. Once again, we took the Holland America shuttle into the city centre, a ninety-minute drive through verdant countryside, including this scene which illustrates the vivid contrast between old and new.
Yes, there are reminders of the War, but the young
people prefer to look ahead rather than dwell in the past. Yet, as I looked out at the old Huey parked
on the roof of the Reunification Palace, I couldn’t help but think of the
images of the American pullout in 1975 and of the movies that followed: Robin
Williams’ Good Morning Vietnam!, The Deer Hunter, Platoon, and so many others that chronicled that terrible conflict.
Our day in Nha Trang was spent walking along the
seaside boulevard, visiting the Po Nagar Cham towers, a complex of temples
dating back to the eighth century, and walking the streets where the real
people live and work, a few blocks back from the hotel strip. Money is pouring in from South Korea, Japan,
and China to build high end hotels, resorts, and condos.
Next stop was Da Nang, the last stopover for American soldiers heading stateside following a tour of duty during the Vietnam War. They knew it as ‘China Beach’. We spent our day there in the nearby city of Hoi An, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. A small section of the city has been preserved and features a variety of craftspeople and artisans. We watched marble carvers, silk weavers, lantern-makers, tailors, shoe and boot makers, artists, carvers, and many others. The market was a treat for the senses. And how can one not be impressed by a place with public wifi everywhere and women that hawk and spit every bit as good as the men!
