TRAVELING AROUND THE WORLD: Our Tales of Delights and Disasters (6 page)

A quick side note. One of the delightful things I’ve come to love about Thailand is the custom of removing your shoes before going inside. It’s primarily a cleanliness thing. In the temples, people kneel and bow to the Buddha so a clean floor is essential. In a traditional Thai home, meals are eaten while sitting on mats on the floor. Keeping the floor clean is a priority – so shoes are removed and left at the entrance. But I love the sensual feel of it. There’s something about walking around in bare feet on a smooth, cool surface that feels great. At the cooking school, our shoes were left outside and we padded around prepping food, cooking and eating in bare feet. How great is that?

In the span of three hours, we prepared five Thai dishes – tom yum soup, pad thai, chicken salad with sticky rice, green curry paste for chicken curry, and a dessert of rubies in coconut milk (the “rubies” were actually turnips – that’s right, turnips – soaked in flavored syrups). We prepped the veggies, sliced and diced the herbs, and even pounded out green curry paste from scratch (we’ll use a food processor at home, even though they insist it isn’t as good). We stood outside on a narrow terrace with a row of woks in front and sautéed, boiled or stir-fried each dish. The instruction was great and everything tasted fabulous. Mike’s favorite was the tom yum soup and I can’t decide between the pad thai and chicken curry. The chicken salad with sticky rice was a delightful and yummy surprise. We have the cookbook and are ready to try it all again from our indoor kitchen in Annapolis. And – maybe, just maybe – we’ll cook barefooted.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Rocking Along on the Orient Express
 

The Orient Express conjures up images of old-world luxury, and, of course, Agatha Christie. For years, we dreamed about taking the Orient Express. Mike loves trains and this one is supposedly the best. We were so intent on riding the Orient Express that we scheduled all of our return travel plans around the train dates from Bangkok to Singapore. We planned four days and three nights aboard the Eastern and Orient Express.

Over our months in France, we had many memorable experiences. And yet, occasionally there are special moments that seem unreal. Walking along the train platform next to the dark green and gold train bearing the gleaming brass letters, “Eastern and Orient Express,” was one of those “pinch me” moments. We stepped carefully along green and gold carpet walking past impeccably attired staff in deep green and red Thai silk dresses and vests. They stood alongside the train to welcome us aboard.

I knew Mike would love this trip but, I admit, it caught me by surprise. I was captivated the moment we stepped on board. We boarded the “G” car to find a picture-perfect train – long, narrow hallway, frilly lights overhead, and wood parquet walls and doors. We searched for our cabin as though in a movie. The glass-fronted door opened into our compartment. It was a calming, comforting feast. The parquet walls had inlaid designs behind the cushy upholstered sofa and chair. Two large fringed and curtained windows faced the train station. It was small (although we somehow ended up with a larger cabin than we expected – a blessing) but wonderfully appointed. The tiny bathroom had thick white towels that bore the E&O emblem.

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 taxi 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?