TRAVELING AROUND THE WORLD: Our Tales of Delights and Disasters

by Shelley Row

  We like others hurried to the open-air observation car to watch as we pulled out of the station. Even now, I feel the excitement of that moment. People on the platform waved and smiled as we – those most fortunate – rode away in our green and gold carriages. It was an auspicious beginning.

  We boarded late in the afternoon so soon it was time to dress for dinner. Guests are encouraged to dress up, so Mike donned his new custom-made suit and I a little black dress. Off we went to our reserved table in the dining car. This train car had large windows opening to Bangkok as it receded away. White clad tables with graceful lamps and vases of orchids, held crystal, silver and the E&O china. Service was attentive – the best I ever experienced. And the French chef ensured excellent food! After dinner, there was a cup of coffee and tea in the piano bar before turning in for our first night on the train. Our cabin had been made into two twin beds with crisp white sheets carefully turned down so that the E&O emblem was on top in the center. Delightful. We snuggled into the cool linens. Then, fantasy met reality.

  The Eastern and Orient Express starts in Thailand, then passes through Malaysia into the Republic of Singapore – that’s travel through three countries. Importantly, the train tracks were built and maintained by these three countries. We quickly discovered that track standards here are not what they are – say, in France – for the TGV. We rocked and rolled, jerked and jolted through the night. I finally fell asleep when the train stopped for several hours only to wake with a start when it jerked to life again. Neither of us – or anyone else on the train, including the staff – slept much that evening. Plus, we got up early to see the train cross the 300 meter wooden trestle bridge hugging a rock cliff. The trestle was build as part of the Thai-Burma Railway in World War II. This was the so called “Death Railway” because it was built by prisoners of war and the local Thai and Malay people desperate for jobs.

  Bleary-eyed, Mike and I disembarked from the train, which was parked partially on the bridge over the river Kwai (yes, the one from the movie). After boarding a large raft that would be towed up the Kwai River, we were given a talk about the war and the construction of the railroad. Soon we were at the railroad museum that clearly described the deplorable conditions for the workers. More than 80,000 Malay and Thai workers died during construction. Prisoners died too but not in those numbers. Across the street from the museum was the cemetery for British and Dutch soldiers. It was beautifully maintained. A Thai woman was on her hands and knees scrubbing individual grave stones. The train staff gave each of us a handmade flower wreath to place on a grave – a lovely gesture.

  Time grows long on a three-day train journey so there were entertainment options. There was a piano player in the evenings in the saloon car, a reading car with an astrologer, a tropical-fruit tasting event, and Thai music and dancing. We tried it all. Since Mike had his fortune told in Istanbul, I chose the astrologer. She read my palm and predicted a long and happy life. She said that I’m responsible and organized, sometimes too much so. And Mike's favorite: I have a good-looking husband. How’d she know?!

  The afternoon of our second day, we stopped at Penang, Malaysia. We saw the Khoo Kongsi Chinese temple and had a trishaw (a three-wheeled bicycle pedaled by a tiny old man) ride through the streets to the historic Eastern & Oriental Hotel (not affiliated with the train).

  Back on the train, the service was exceptional. Beautiful women wore outfits typical of each country – Thailand (dark green and red silks), Malaysia (pink silks) and Singapore (bright red silks). Our steward served breakfast and afternoon tea in our cabin, made the room for day and night, and fulfilled every request. He was polite, kind and deferential. I was “Madam-ed” at every turn – “Excuse me, Madam,” “Thank you, Madam,” “You’re welcome, Madam.”

  Even with all the pampering, my main memories will be of the evolving scenery as we traversed from Thailand, Malaysia and Singapore. Everything changed as we traveled – the scenery, the agriculture and the lifestyles.

  Initially, Thailand was filled with vast swaths of green rice fields with white cranes flying low overhead, and we passed tapioca and coconut trees. The trees changed to rubber and banana in the southern part of the country. People here were poor. The landscape was dotted with skinny Brahma cattle lying on the side of the road, under a coconut tree, or next to a ramshackled trash-strewn house. For us, pampered and well cared for, it was a jolt to see barefoot children run from hovels to laugh and wave at the train. Their joy was invigorating but the differences in our circumstances were stark. Our train fare was more than they would make in a year. Stopped at a station, eating breakfast in our private car with a silver tea and coffee pot on the table, it was difficult to look out at the people gazing in awe at the train. It felt shockingly unequal and unfair.

  In southern Thailand and Malaysia, craggy limestone cliffs rose abruptly from the flat farmland. At the narrowest part of the peninsula, we glimpsed the South China Sea with its white beaches and waves washing ashore. It was beautiful but frustrating since photography from the back of the open-air observation car at the end of the moving train is iffy at best. Sometimes branches brushed our hands as we held tightly to the brass railings. Leaning out was definitely not a good idea. Agriculture changed first to rubber trees then to palm trees for palm oil production. There was hill after rolling hill of palm trees. Houses in Malaysia seemed to improve and the debris decreased. Dark-skinned workers toiled in the perpetual sunshine. Most people traveled on motorbikes – some had sidecars for hauling equipment. Other times, whole families were piled on the narrow motorbike seat. I saw a young woman riding a motorbike with her toddler standing in a compartment between the handle bars and holding on with a grin.

  The second night of the train trip, the tracks were still rough. It felt like we were bouncing along a gravel road. Sleep was marginal again. The last night traveling through Malaysia was better but still difficult. Mike tucked the sheets around him like a sleeping bag to keep from rolling out of bed. And then we reached Singapore. All trash disappeared, roads improved, agricultural production ceased, and skyscrapers soared. It was as though we entered a tropical garden with elephant ear plants the size of umbrellas. The difference was dramatic.

  Whenever I think of the Orient Express, I remember the rocking train. While still on the three-day journey, Mike and I walked the length of the train to the wood-lined observation car. We bounced and jostled from wall to wall like a pin ball as we walked down the narrow corridors with the train swaying and jerking along. Everyone good naturedly waited at the end of cars so that others could pass. We hung off the back of the train watching the scenery go by in the warm, humid breeze that left our skin slightly sticky as our hair whipped around in the wind.

  Even though beautifully appointed, our cabin began to feel confining after thirty-six hours. It was certainly possible to live, shower and dress in the small compartment but difficult after a couple of days. The small shower was challenging as I was tossed from side to side. Mike repeatedly hit his head on the mirror as he leaned forward to brush his teeth. The waiters were gifted at pouring water, wine and coffee while moving to and fro. I’d like to see them try putting on mascara.

  It was a wonderful experience. Yet I was ready to get off when we arrived in Singapore. Mike and I rejoiced when we reached our spacious hotel room in Singapore. The bed didn’t move and I could open my arms and not touch the walls of the bathroom. What joy!

  Our burl-wood-paneled room, the attentive, impeccably clad staff, the ambiance of care and luxury while zipping through ever-changing tropical landscapes all add up to the Orient Express; that, and bouncing along the narrow corridors.

  Sunday, February 20, 2011

  Singapore: Like Another Country

  Singapore isn’t like another country, it is another country. And what a country! I never experienced anything quite like Singapore. It is a tropical paradise that feels like living inside an immaculately kept garden – a garden that sprouted skyscrapers. As we rode in the ta
xi to our regal hotel, the Fullerton, we could hardly believe our eyes. Glass and steel skyscrapers, each one of a more extraordinary design than the next, were packed shoulder to shoulder. More were under construction.

  The first thing that struck me about Singapore was the vegetation. Lush greenery was everywhere. Palm trees lined the streets, flowers such as bird-of-paradise grew along walkways. Bougainvillea-filled planters sat at the sides of bridges. But here’s the most amazing part…There was not a piece of litter anywhere – not one scrap. As Mike and I walked around the city, we counted the number of individual pieces of litter that we saw. We never needed more than two hands to count for the entire day’s walk. A plastic bottle in the grass looked so out of place that we picked it up to throw into the nearest can.

  The other dominate feature of Singapore was the water – both the river that runs through the center of the city and the ocean. Unlike, say, Baltimore Harbor, there was not one piece of debris floating in the water. Our hotel faced onto a large inlet where the river joined the ocean. Two boats cleaned the water by sucking up debris, except there wasn’t anything to suck up. An old man swept a public sidewalk with a dust pan and broom and, in the course of the morning, had amassed a few leaves and a couple of cigarette butts. Workers pressure-washed already clean sidewalks. During my first morning run, I saw a small group of people meditating underneath a highway overpass. It was pristine and clean – no trash, no graffiti. A Starbucks operated under the same bridge on the opposite side. We were told that there is a substantial fine ($300) for littering so people simply don’t do it. It’s amazing how pleasant it felt to stroll through such a clean place. It makes you care more.

  The other thing I didn’t realize about Singapore is how multi-cultural it is. The city seems to be a mixture of Chinese (the predominant culture), Malay, Thai and East Indian, with others thrown in for even more variety. There were Chinese temples, Buddhist temples, mosques and Christian cathedrals. It was a sophisticated urban environment filled with young people lapping up culture, food and drink from all over the world. We saw every type of ethnic food you can think of. For example, there was a restaurant, O’Gambino’s, which was advertised as an Irish Italian bistro bar. Figure that one out! And it was situated between Australian and German restaurants. We tried to stick to “local” foods, although I was never quite clear what was considered “local.” Would that be Malay, Chinese, Thai, Vietnamese, Korean or East Indian?

  We went to a “hawker” market for lunch. These markets are clusters of vendors selling all types of local cuisines – mostly in the open air. I watched a tiny man grill my chicken satay over charcoal that he fanned with a banana leaf. Mike came away with freshly steamed prawn dumplings. Awesome. One of my favorites was a dessert of fresh mango served with sticky rice and coconut milk. So yummy! Like a flavorful rice pudding. And there’s the ubiquitous Singapore Sling which originated at the Long Bar of the Raffles Hotel. We made the trek over to Raffles and discovered a charming, old hotel that reeked of old-world British culture with a top-note of Indian. So civilized. So civilized, in fact, that it felt cold and pretentious. We tried to have lunch at their outdoor café and never got service. The Long Bar was better with its dark wood interior, bamboo-leaf ceiling fans, and peanut shells on the floor. Mike watched as I nursed my Singapore Sling (they serve 800 per day on average) as we shared a tender beef kabob for lunch.

  Singapore is a mecca for shopping, but that was the last thing we needed to do as our luggage was already brimming over. So we walked and walked through this beautiful city. Each morning, I ran around the waterfront or through lush, spotless parks. This is the perfect place for walking. Pedestrians – unlike in Bangkok – are treated with great care. No matter the circumstances, if a pedestrian is hit it is automatically the fault of the driver. Crosswalks are meticulously signed and large urban streets have underground tunnels for pedestrian access. You could eat off the floor inside these tunnels. All the bridges have large, flower-encrusted pedestrian walkways.

  The weather was just as I like it – warm and humid. It was quiet in the heat of the afternoon but the riverfront came alive with activity at night. A large marina development was across from our hotel. It is connected across water by a free-standing pedestrian bridge that is wrapped in a spiral truss. The bridge springs to life at night with twinkling colored lights. All the bridges, in fact, are beautifully lit. We took an evening boat ride under a full moon, and enjoyed the lights of the towering skyscrapers and the ornamented bridges. The marina development was celebrating its grand opening, and we happened to be on the boat in front of it as they shot off fireworks. Very fun. Oh – and the boats are all electric so that cruising along the river is quiet and pollution free. Impressive.

  Since we weren’t shopping, what else do you do in a tropical paradise? You go to the botanical gardens. The park was huge and filled with walking trails around lakes and through a rain forest. The plant life was lush and exotic, like walking through a scene in Avatar. One section of the park contains a ginger garden. Ginger, as it turns out, blooms in the most delightful ways. Some are odd, spiky flowers and others look like variations on a bird-of-paradise. The unopened blooms are bright and festive, like candy waiting to be licked. The National Orchid Garden is the jewel of the park. Orchids bloomed at every turn – large, small or tiny; yellow, white, pink, purple, orange; solid-colored or speckled. There were masses of blooms tumbling off of rocks and tree branches. But as spectacular as the orchids were, I was captivated by the palm trees. Some of the palm fronds were close to five feet in diameter. They were spectacular! And there was a “cool house” with plants that typically grow in the mountains of the tropics. The most notable were the carnivorous plants like pitcher plants that entice bugs inside only to be absorbed as plant food.

  There’s much that we didn’t see of Singapore. As we lifted off on yet another long plane flight, Mike and I watched the lights of this small country grow dim. Yet Singapore will remain a bright light in our memories.

  Thursday, February 24, 2011

  What a Difference a Day Makes

  We’re two for two. First Cairo and now Christchurch. We feel like “disasters r us.” We landed in Christchurch, New Zealand after a long flight from Singapore to discover a charming, small city with a British ancestry. Christchurch looked jubilant with mounds of colorful flowers blooming their hearts out – roses, hydrangeas, geraniums, and an array of bedding plants. The city had the feel of a distinguished college campus – similar to Duke University – as people walked and biked past brownstone, Tudor-style buildings of high-pitched roofs, Gothic windows, and intricate spires. In the center of the city, the historic cathedral dominated Cathedral Square. We arrived during the annual flower show. The front of the cathedral was decorated with an archway of flowers, and there was a carpet of flowers down the middle of the nave inside. As we approached Cathedral Square, the carillons in the tall spire chimed their tune filling the air with ringing. The city loves its British roots. (According to our local tour guide, the British settlers arrived over 200 years ago in a “wee” boat.) The Avon River meandered slowly through the center city, its banks draped with green grass and graceful willow trees. The Bard pub held down one corner and The Oxford on the Avon restaurant occupied another. We spent a stunning, blue-sky day walking all over the city – through the historic, Tudor-style Arts Center directly across the street from our hotel, visiting the Canterbury Museum, and strolling along the river for coffee at the historic Antigua Boat Shed.

  Our highlight was punting on the Avon. The Avon River is shallow and clear. Punting is accomplished by boarding canoe-like boats that are very shallow. A punter uses a long pole to push the boat along the river. We floated – or punted – under arched bridges with decorative scroll-work railings, under willow branches, and past old brown-stone buildings from the 1800s. Our punter kept up a running commentary which included discussion of the 7.1 earthquake that hit Christchurch last September. It caused substantial damage to many b
uildings in the city, but, he told us, another “big one” was predicted sometime soon. Prophetic words.

  The next morning, Mike and I left for the small coastal village of Akaroa to swim with the dolphins. As we sat in a tiny café having lunch before the boat ride, we felt quivering and heard low rumbling. It’s amazing how quickly thoughts flit through your head. Later Mike and I realized we thought the same things. Our first thought was – are we still on the Orient Express with all this rocking? Next thought: No, this is an earthquake. Next thought: It can’t be that bad or last long. Wrong. Very wrong. For us, the thirty to forty seconds of shaking were not enough time to act. Mike noticed the cars moving in the parking lot. I fixated on a rocking bookcase and wondered if it would hit Mike if it toppled over. About the time my brain engaged to say – “let’s move” – the shaking stopped and the power went out. Everyone inside looked at each other as if to say, “Was that what I think it was?” But all seemed to be okay, at least initially. A shopkeeper was the first to say that what we experienced was small, but Christchurch was hit by a significant quake. Hummm. Crowds of people clustered into groups outside. Some listened to a car radio, and others gathered around a battery-powered radio outside the visitor center. The grim picture began to emerge.

  The quake was 6.3 – smaller than the September quake – but it was closer and, importantly, near the surface. Rumors emerged that significant damage had occurred to many buildings in downtown Christchurch, such as the Cathedral and office buildings. Roads were closed and people were being evacuated.