Thursday, October 16, 2008
Who would ever have thought anyone would visit Vietnam? Yet, here we are spending a day in Saigon. Now officially called Ho Chi Minh City, Saigon is Vietnam’s largest metropolis which a population of approximately 10 million people. It seemed that each of them owns a motorcycle. Actually, our guide said that were about 4 million motorcycles or scooters in Saigon. They were all on the road today.
We had a little confusion at the start because our guide wasn’t at the dock, holding a sign, as promised. After we walked the length of the dock, D called the agency on his cell phone and was told the guide and car were already at the ship. We got it worked out – apparently she was at the souvenir stand rather than looking for us. This was not a good start.
The drive from Phu My [Foo May] to Saigon is about 70 km but takes almost 2 hours. The main road, the imaginatively named Highway Number 1, is a four lane road with a Jersey wall divider running almost its entire length. It is roughly paved and overwhelmed by traffic. It is crowded with cars, trucks and the aforementioned motorcycles and speeds never passed about 60 kph [36 mph] on the trip. The roadside was crammed with small shops and stalls selling everything to everybody. There were food stands which weren’t really good enough to be called restaurants; every type of commercial venture; and open-air markets selling primarily produce. The life of Vietnam could be seen on the roadside.
We’re still not sure if the guide gave us her name; the four of us agreed that we didn’t know it if she did. She also didn’t tell us much on the drive in. We did learn that the standard, government-approved building size for housing and merchants was now set at 5 m by 12 m [approx 16 ft x 38 feet]. This limitation resulted in the creation of three- and four-story buildings.
Our first stop today was the War Museum. Housed in the former United States Information Agency building, the museum presented the official Vietnamese perspective on their “recent unpleasantness,’” as our Southern friends might say. The people refer to the period as “the American War,” but the displays cast blame on everyone who wasn’t on the winning side. [Editorial: Is there ever really a winning side?] Not only the Americans, but the French and South Vietnamese are portrayed in a less than flattering light.
The first of the five buildings showed pictures and posters from the era. It was the History museum. Outside, in a central courtyard, were captured tanks, aircraft and helicopters while inside were articles damning the opposition participants. The exhibit showed, ironically, that history is in the eye of the beholder. The terms savior and invader depend on whether your side wins.
The second building housed exhibits of pictures by photographers who lost their lives recording the Vietnam conflict as far back as when it was the War in Indochina at the end of the French occupation. The fall of Dien Bien Phu ended one “war” but signaled the start of another. The photographers represented in this exhibit were both American and Vietnamese and included a writer/photographer responsible for Life magazine articles about the conflict as far back as 1964-65. This exhibit drew no overt conclusions but was all the more powerful because of that.
The largest exhibit was in the USIA building itself. There were sections on the combat; sections on Agent Orange and its lasting effects; sections on atrocities and the loss of life; and, finally, an art exhibit featuring pictures by teenagers which echoed the theme of universal peace. One could not be unmoved by the photos and text [which was in both Vietnamese and English]. Mass graves are hideous whether they are in Vietnam, the Sudan or Nazi Europe, and some of these pictures conjured up just that sort of brutality.
The fourth section was a recreation of the “tiger” cages used by the South Vietnamese forces to imprison special prisoners. The cells were small and crowded, packed with more captives in summer than winter. Prisoners were treated as poorly by the South Vietnamese as American captives were by the North. Included in the exhibit was a guillotine used on prisoners.
The last building contained anti-war propaganda from the period – photos, posters and home-made signs from anti-war demonstrations around the world but especially from the US. It was as if the government were thumbing its nose at the US and others for not listening to the protesters.
The guide had simply left us to wander on our own and reappeared an hour later with no explanation or reaction. She was definitely not on the same level as Pho from Hoi An. Our next stop was at an art gallery. We didn’t know why this was on the tour but we soon figured it out. Since the paintings were almost all impressionistic Western-style works, we knew that this was not a chance to see the history of Vietnam or its art; it was an attempt to sell us art work. We challenged the selection and left within five minutes. We drove to the main Post Office, done in the French style, and the Notre Dame Cathedral, which wasn’t open.
It was time for lunch by now, almost 12:30, and we wanted noodles. The guide directed the driver to an eatery which specialized in pho [fuh], the national dish. Pho is a noodle-filled broth which can also contained any kind of meat imaginable. It is served with cilantro, basil, mint, lime, bean sprouts, soy sauce and chili paste, and, ideally, the diner doctors the pho to his personal taste. We were a little leery of the fresh produce and we were relieved when the guide said not to use much of it because it might ot be cleaned to our standards. That was enough to keep us from using any of it although D did add chili paste to his. Ed and Roxanne both ordered pho with brisket, D got his with chicken and MA chosethe vegetarian so she got the most noodles. Ed had a beer and the rest had Cokes – no glasses, just straws. Better safe than sick. Anyway, we all enjoyed the meal. Once again, we were the only Westerners in the place, safely seated on the third floor where the air conditioner was. All three levels were packed, and we got the last table upstairs.
After lunch, Girl Guide reappeared and we went to the Ben Thanh market, a square block of indoor shopping. It was designed as a square-within-a-square. The outer square contained government sanctioned stalls where the prices were fixed. Goods for sale included handicrafts, clothes and textiles. We walked the entire outer square and assumed, later, that the guide had no choice. The inner square was full of private merchants selling much of the same type of products but more aggressively. Here, one was expected to bargain up to 40% off of the price, but we didn’t buy anything. We were fascinated by the produce available here because many if not most items are not readily available in the States. The odor from the produce was off-putting, to be polite, and we saw no meat or fish stalls. Lots of vendors tried to sell us shirts, pants, watches and textiles off the bolt, but we were brave and tired. After a short drive through the heart of Saigon’s European section – home to the opera, city hall and high-end retailers, we headed back to the ship and cold towels.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Hoi An, Vietnam
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
The weather gods tripped us up today but in a good way. We were prepared for overcast skies and rain showers but ended up with lots of sun, heat and humidity. We, of course, had neither hats nor sunscreen and our rain jackets were of dubious value.
The six of us met around 8:45 and headed off to meet today’s guide. Sure enough, once we cleared the ship and had our Vietnam entry cards stamped, we found Pho [Foh] holding a sign for us. We were quickly ushered into a waiting Mercedes minivan which could have held as many as 12 people, so we had plenty of room. Our driver, Tee, was in motion immediately and we started for Hoi An, about 45 minutes from the port of Danang. On the way to Hoi An, we passed by the famous China Beach where American service men came for R&R during the “American War,” as it is known here. [For those who remember, it also leant its name to a television show about the Vietnam war]
Hoi An is a town that is over 400 years old. Although not preserved in the manner of Zhouzhaung, China, it has maintained some of the old customs: The area is filled with “trade neighborhoods” where specific trades are practiced and products sold. The tradition is not as strict as it was since there is a good deal of cross-over, but it reminded us of Bali where individual villages specialize in certain crafts [wood working, masks, etc.]. Hoi An also reminded us of Bali because there was no city planning evident; we found livestock mixed with shops and restaurants. The roads leading to Hoi An were in good repair, but the closer we came to the old town, the worse they were. Many in town were torn up as if for re/paving and many had the surface appearance of Swiss cheese.
The old town features an outdoor market which is really no more than lots of contiguous store fronts selling the same goods – produce and textiles, mostly – making it not a whole lot different from the rest of the town. The fact that they were all on one square seemed to be what made it a market.
There are no cars or trucks in the old section, either. The only vehicles visible were bicycles and motorcycles, and there were more than enough of those. Also reminiscent of Indonesia, they were ever-present, swarmed like mosquitoes and did not yield to pedestrians. Crossing streets was an exercise in speed and agility.
We walked through part of the town with Pho pointing out “the sights” such as they were before making our first stop. We entered a small theater with stools about 2 inches off the ground [well, that’s what it felt like to our collective knees]. Soon, a young woman mounted the stage and explained what we were going to see and hear. She introduced each of the five acts prior to the performance. First we had a musical selection by the house band [uher, drums, electric guitar and two other native instruments]. The players were loud and enthusiastic, but the traditional Vietnamese music was not too pleasing to our ears. The musicians played for each act and it all sounded pretty much the same.
The second act was a pantomime/dance by a trio which had one man and two women. The man was made up to look old and he appeared to be “on the make,” but unsuccessfully. There was a more traditional explanation, but it has been lost to fatigue. The third act was a solo singer who screeched something no one understood. She was followed by a woman dancing the Vietnamese “fox dance.” The fox story is an ancient one – a female fox wants to become human and after many years is granted her wish. Of course, there is a condition on the wish: she must keep possession of a pearl or she will revert to her vulpine form. Naturally, she falls in love and her lover hides the pearl so that she can’t find it. Over time, she becomes a fox again. The dancing and writhing were accompanied by shrieks and moans befitting the Hallowe’en season, but it was confusing and not especially enjoyable. Finally, there was a trio of female dancers who balanced fake water jugs on their heads and waved flags. This, at least, was bearable. Everyone took a final bow and we were released to the tropic sun once more.
We visited the Phuc Kien Temple which is not a temple. In earlier days, the town not only had trades neighborhoods but also ethnic neighborhoods. There were Chinese and Japanese sections in addition to the native Vietnamese neighborhoods. The Japanese have disappeared [more on that later], but there is still a sizable Chinese population. The Phuc Kien Temple now serves as a meeting place for them as well as a reminder of their heritage. The architecture is typically Chinese with dragons, red and gold paint and raised doorways to keep out evil spirits. Hanging from the ceiling are spiral incense “sticks” which can take up to a month to burn. Visitors [and perhaps locals] place their names inj the spirals in the hope of living long, healthy lives. There are also small alters where people can leave incense [joss] sticks as an offering.
We visited an ancient merchant’s house. This house had been in the same family for nine generations. In fact, the patriarch died just several months ago. We heard about the house toured the first floor. According to our guide, the family still lives in the house. Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the visit was looking at markers commemorating floods in the Thu Bon River behind the house. While last week’s flooding brought only 6 inches of water into the house, previous floods, going back 40 years or so, have flooded the house with as much as 2 meters of water. Last week, all of the furnishings on the first floor were hauled to the second floor by use of a pulley.
We wandered under Pho’s direction to the Temple Bridge. This is a covered bridge that traces its design to a bridge built on the same spot over 400 years ago. The original bridge joined the Japanese and Chinese neighborhoods and was meant as a show of amity. In the middle of the bridge, there is a Buddhist temple. The bridge has been replaced innumerable times for one reason or another but still stands at the same place, a testament to the endurance of Hoi An.
Next, we took a boat ride on the Thu Bon. We sat on hard wooden benches which were not secured to the floor and were subject to tipping if we weren’t careful. We motored up and down the muddy river for 45 minutes, glad for the respite from the sun and for the breeze which cooled us off. The best part of the trip was watching a native fisherman cast his net in the hope of catching dinner. As we approached his dug-out, he proudly showed us the net full of fish he had captured that day. We saw a variety of small boats, different kinds of , and cattle and water buffalo. It was interesting and refreshing.
We finished our day at a silk factory where we got the crash course on silk worms and farming. There was also a demonstration of an electric loom, but the point of the stop was to sell us silk goods and other handicrafts. Like good little tourists, we did our job, buying presents for the children and, later, a Buddha mask for David. The Buddha’s face looks remarkably like Caiden’s, so we couldn’t resist. All of the prices were marked in US dollars, but D used Vietnamese dong which Emily had gotten for him months ago.
After that, we were ready for lunch, so Pho directed Tee to a “good” restaurant where she was sure we would enjoy our meal while she and Tee went to a roadside stand for lunch. Her instincts were good on two counts – we would have worried about the safety of the “local” establishment and we did enjoy our lunch of Vietnamese and Chinese dishes. Double Cokes for everyone except Russ and Ed who had beer. After lunch, we drove back to the ship in Danang, arriving around 3:45, right on time. The highlight of our return, though, was the HAL steward handing out ice-cold towels to revive us after a long day in the sun.
The weather gods tripped us up today but in a good way. We were prepared for overcast skies and rain showers but ended up with lots of sun, heat and humidity. We, of course, had neither hats nor sunscreen and our rain jackets were of dubious value.
The six of us met around 8:45 and headed off to meet today’s guide. Sure enough, once we cleared the ship and had our Vietnam entry cards stamped, we found Pho [Foh] holding a sign for us. We were quickly ushered into a waiting Mercedes minivan which could have held as many as 12 people, so we had plenty of room. Our driver, Tee, was in motion immediately and we started for Hoi An, about 45 minutes from the port of Danang. On the way to Hoi An, we passed by the famous China Beach where American service men came for R&R during the “American War,” as it is known here. [For those who remember, it also leant its name to a television show about the Vietnam war]
Hoi An is a town that is over 400 years old. Although not preserved in the manner of Zhouzhaung, China, it has maintained some of the old customs: The area is filled with “trade neighborhoods” where specific trades are practiced and products sold. The tradition is not as strict as it was since there is a good deal of cross-over, but it reminded us of Bali where individual villages specialize in certain crafts [wood working, masks, etc.]. Hoi An also reminded us of Bali because there was no city planning evident; we found livestock mixed with shops and restaurants. The roads leading to Hoi An were in good repair, but the closer we came to the old town, the worse they were. Many in town were torn up as if for re/paving and many had the surface appearance of Swiss cheese.
The old town features an outdoor market which is really no more than lots of contiguous store fronts selling the same goods – produce and textiles, mostly – making it not a whole lot different from the rest of the town. The fact that they were all on one square seemed to be what made it a market.
There are no cars or trucks in the old section, either. The only vehicles visible were bicycles and motorcycles, and there were more than enough of those. Also reminiscent of Indonesia, they were ever-present, swarmed like mosquitoes and did not yield to pedestrians. Crossing streets was an exercise in speed and agility.
We walked through part of the town with Pho pointing out “the sights” such as they were before making our first stop. We entered a small theater with stools about 2 inches off the ground [well, that’s what it felt like to our collective knees]. Soon, a young woman mounted the stage and explained what we were going to see and hear. She introduced each of the five acts prior to the performance. First we had a musical selection by the house band [uher, drums, electric guitar and two other native instruments]. The players were loud and enthusiastic, but the traditional Vietnamese music was not too pleasing to our ears. The musicians played for each act and it all sounded pretty much the same.
The second act was a pantomime/dance by a trio which had one man and two women. The man was made up to look old and he appeared to be “on the make,” but unsuccessfully. There was a more traditional explanation, but it has been lost to fatigue. The third act was a solo singer who screeched something no one understood. She was followed by a woman dancing the Vietnamese “fox dance.” The fox story is an ancient one – a female fox wants to become human and after many years is granted her wish. Of course, there is a condition on the wish: she must keep possession of a pearl or she will revert to her vulpine form. Naturally, she falls in love and her lover hides the pearl so that she can’t find it. Over time, she becomes a fox again. The dancing and writhing were accompanied by shrieks and moans befitting the Hallowe’en season, but it was confusing and not especially enjoyable. Finally, there was a trio of female dancers who balanced fake water jugs on their heads and waved flags. This, at least, was bearable. Everyone took a final bow and we were released to the tropic sun once more.
We visited the Phuc Kien Temple which is not a temple. In earlier days, the town not only had trades neighborhoods but also ethnic neighborhoods. There were Chinese and Japanese sections in addition to the native Vietnamese neighborhoods. The Japanese have disappeared [more on that later], but there is still a sizable Chinese population. The Phuc Kien Temple now serves as a meeting place for them as well as a reminder of their heritage. The architecture is typically Chinese with dragons, red and gold paint and raised doorways to keep out evil spirits. Hanging from the ceiling are spiral incense “sticks” which can take up to a month to burn. Visitors [and perhaps locals] place their names inj the spirals in the hope of living long, healthy lives. There are also small alters where people can leave incense [joss] sticks as an offering.
We visited an ancient merchant’s house. This house had been in the same family for nine generations. In fact, the patriarch died just several months ago. We heard about the house toured the first floor. According to our guide, the family still lives in the house. Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the visit was looking at markers commemorating floods in the Thu Bon River behind the house. While last week’s flooding brought only 6 inches of water into the house, previous floods, going back 40 years or so, have flooded the house with as much as 2 meters of water. Last week, all of the furnishings on the first floor were hauled to the second floor by use of a pulley.
We wandered under Pho’s direction to the Temple Bridge. This is a covered bridge that traces its design to a bridge built on the same spot over 400 years ago. The original bridge joined the Japanese and Chinese neighborhoods and was meant as a show of amity. In the middle of the bridge, there is a Buddhist temple. The bridge has been replaced innumerable times for one reason or another but still stands at the same place, a testament to the endurance of Hoi An.
Next, we took a boat ride on the Thu Bon. We sat on hard wooden benches which were not secured to the floor and were subject to tipping if we weren’t careful. We motored up and down the muddy river for 45 minutes, glad for the respite from the sun and for the breeze which cooled us off. The best part of the trip was watching a native fisherman cast his net in the hope of catching dinner. As we approached his dug-out, he proudly showed us the net full of fish he had captured that day. We saw a variety of small boats, different kinds of , and cattle and water buffalo. It was interesting and refreshing.
We finished our day at a silk factory where we got the crash course on silk worms and farming. There was also a demonstration of an electric loom, but the point of the stop was to sell us silk goods and other handicrafts. Like good little tourists, we did our job, buying presents for the children and, later, a Buddha mask for David. The Buddha’s face looks remarkably like Caiden’s, so we couldn’t resist. All of the prices were marked in US dollars, but D used Vietnamese dong which Emily had gotten for him months ago.
After that, we were ready for lunch, so Pho directed Tee to a “good” restaurant where she was sure we would enjoy our meal while she and Tee went to a roadside stand for lunch. Her instincts were good on two counts – we would have worried about the safety of the “local” establishment and we did enjoy our lunch of Vietnamese and Chinese dishes. Double Cokes for everyone except Russ and Ed who had beer. After lunch, we drove back to the ship in Danang, arriving around 3:45, right on time. The highlight of our return, though, was the HAL steward handing out ice-cold towels to revive us after a long day in the sun.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Farewell Hong Kong
Sunday, October 12, 2008
The weather gods have been kind to us again. Yesterday was bright, sunny and hot, perfect weather ofr our journey to the top of Victoria Peak. We were able to see for miles as we looked out over Hong Kong Island toward Kowloon. Today, on the other hand, is overcast and foggy, far from ideal for a trip to the Peak.
We started out around 10:30. Our only goal was to see if someone could explain a puzzling red indicator light on the video camera. As we walked through the Ocean Mall, we spotted Ed and Roxanne coming toward us. Roxanne was returning to the ship to shower after a passing pigeon mistook her for a public lavatory. Ed joined us because he needed extra batteries for his camera. Off we went, pretending to know where we were going. We discovered that the mall is divided into neighborhoods -- all of the women’s clothing stores were grouped together; sporting goods and athletic wear were together; and all of the electronics and camera stored were in the same area. We found our way to the third floor and went into the first camera store we saw. D’s video problem was diagnosed as a failing battery, so he bought a replacement as well as extra AAs and Ed bought more AAs, too.
We separated then and continued walking the mall. We tried to find the Toys-R-Us we had seen advertised but had no luck. We went out of the shopping center onto Canton Road and walked around before finding our way into the mall via a side entrance. We had passed other little junk stores as well as another high-rise shopping building but still didn’t see the toy store. We asked when we returned to the mall and got directions to the biggest Toys-R-Us we have seen. We did a little shopping [no hints for the readers in Indonesia] and decided to go to an early lunch.
MA had heard about a Chinese restaurant called the Jade Garden. She thought it was in the Ocean Mall but we realized, upon asking, that it was in the shopping tower we had been in earlier. Back we went to Canton Road. We found the restaurant without trouble – it was on the fourth floor and there were other Chinese restaurants on floors two and three as well. We were seated at a table for two, a change from yesterday’s adventure. English menus appeared complete with pictures and we selected, and shared, fried won tons and steamed dumplings.
The Jade Garden was several steps above the place where we ate yesterday. At no time did we wonder about our continued good health. The view from the windows was of Hong Kong Harbor. Like yesterday, though, we were the only Westerners present although a few others arrived while we were eating. The fried won tons may have been the best we’ve ever had because they were made with a very thin wrapper, not the heavy, doughy won tons we have come to expect in the State. The steamed dumplings were hot and flavorful, full of shrimp but a little sticky. Again, the wrappers were different from dumplings we have had in China and the US. We celebrated our adventure, for that’s what it was, with Diet Cokes. Do we know how to live?
There was only one show tonight, presented at 7 o’clock. This was a “tribute” to Chinese culture and contained four different acts. The first was a duet of piano and uher [sp?], the traditional Chinese violin which is played vertically, not held under the chin. Its sound was almost like the human voice and the musicians presented a varied program of four works. The first and last numbers were traditional Chinese but the middle two were definitely Western – Brahms’ Hungarian Dance #5 and Pachelbel’s Canon. This was a definite hit.
Next came the dragon dance. Accompanied by a rhythm section of drums and cymbals, ten young men made a forty-foot cloth dragon dance, chase a ball and slither over the stage. The performers were dressed all in black so they wouldn’t be visible while they worked, but so many people took flash photographs that it was impossible not to see them. As the dragon, held aloft by sticks, twisted and contorted, the handlers had to duck, turn and jump over the dragon. Since the dragon glowed under black light, it was really impressive.
The third act consisted of a pair of girls who did a traditional ribbon dance. The girls and their costumes seemed more Thai than Chinese to us and the routine they presented reminded us of the streamer portion of a rhythmic gymnastics competition. However, Olympic competitors would have been more synchronized. They were followed by an illusionist who moved about the stage waving his cape and changing his mask without blinking. It was impossible to tell how he did it which made his performance fascinating.
We were all at the table for dinner tonight [Patti and Russ had had other plans Friday and Saturday] and we exchanged stories about our adventures in Hong Kong. After supper, there was a farewell performance on the dock – another rhythm band and dragon performance. It was difficult to see because of sight lines and leaning people, but D thinks he was able to video enough of it to interest Carter.
Tomorrow is a sea day with plenty of time to work on that gigantic book and Tuesday we will be in Danang, Vietnam. Time to rest up for the hard part of the trip.
The weather gods have been kind to us again. Yesterday was bright, sunny and hot, perfect weather ofr our journey to the top of Victoria Peak. We were able to see for miles as we looked out over Hong Kong Island toward Kowloon. Today, on the other hand, is overcast and foggy, far from ideal for a trip to the Peak.
We started out around 10:30. Our only goal was to see if someone could explain a puzzling red indicator light on the video camera. As we walked through the Ocean Mall, we spotted Ed and Roxanne coming toward us. Roxanne was returning to the ship to shower after a passing pigeon mistook her for a public lavatory. Ed joined us because he needed extra batteries for his camera. Off we went, pretending to know where we were going. We discovered that the mall is divided into neighborhoods -- all of the women’s clothing stores were grouped together; sporting goods and athletic wear were together; and all of the electronics and camera stored were in the same area. We found our way to the third floor and went into the first camera store we saw. D’s video problem was diagnosed as a failing battery, so he bought a replacement as well as extra AAs and Ed bought more AAs, too.
We separated then and continued walking the mall. We tried to find the Toys-R-Us we had seen advertised but had no luck. We went out of the shopping center onto Canton Road and walked around before finding our way into the mall via a side entrance. We had passed other little junk stores as well as another high-rise shopping building but still didn’t see the toy store. We asked when we returned to the mall and got directions to the biggest Toys-R-Us we have seen. We did a little shopping [no hints for the readers in Indonesia] and decided to go to an early lunch.
MA had heard about a Chinese restaurant called the Jade Garden. She thought it was in the Ocean Mall but we realized, upon asking, that it was in the shopping tower we had been in earlier. Back we went to Canton Road. We found the restaurant without trouble – it was on the fourth floor and there were other Chinese restaurants on floors two and three as well. We were seated at a table for two, a change from yesterday’s adventure. English menus appeared complete with pictures and we selected, and shared, fried won tons and steamed dumplings.
The Jade Garden was several steps above the place where we ate yesterday. At no time did we wonder about our continued good health. The view from the windows was of Hong Kong Harbor. Like yesterday, though, we were the only Westerners present although a few others arrived while we were eating. The fried won tons may have been the best we’ve ever had because they were made with a very thin wrapper, not the heavy, doughy won tons we have come to expect in the State. The steamed dumplings were hot and flavorful, full of shrimp but a little sticky. Again, the wrappers were different from dumplings we have had in China and the US. We celebrated our adventure, for that’s what it was, with Diet Cokes. Do we know how to live?
There was only one show tonight, presented at 7 o’clock. This was a “tribute” to Chinese culture and contained four different acts. The first was a duet of piano and uher [sp?], the traditional Chinese violin which is played vertically, not held under the chin. Its sound was almost like the human voice and the musicians presented a varied program of four works. The first and last numbers were traditional Chinese but the middle two were definitely Western – Brahms’ Hungarian Dance #5 and Pachelbel’s Canon. This was a definite hit.
Next came the dragon dance. Accompanied by a rhythm section of drums and cymbals, ten young men made a forty-foot cloth dragon dance, chase a ball and slither over the stage. The performers were dressed all in black so they wouldn’t be visible while they worked, but so many people took flash photographs that it was impossible not to see them. As the dragon, held aloft by sticks, twisted and contorted, the handlers had to duck, turn and jump over the dragon. Since the dragon glowed under black light, it was really impressive.
The third act consisted of a pair of girls who did a traditional ribbon dance. The girls and their costumes seemed more Thai than Chinese to us and the routine they presented reminded us of the streamer portion of a rhythmic gymnastics competition. However, Olympic competitors would have been more synchronized. They were followed by an illusionist who moved about the stage waving his cape and changing his mask without blinking. It was impossible to tell how he did it which made his performance fascinating.
We were all at the table for dinner tonight [Patti and Russ had had other plans Friday and Saturday] and we exchanged stories about our adventures in Hong Kong. After supper, there was a farewell performance on the dock – another rhythm band and dragon performance. It was difficult to see because of sight lines and leaning people, but D thinks he was able to video enough of it to interest Carter.
Tomorrow is a sea day with plenty of time to work on that gigantic book and Tuesday we will be in Danang, Vietnam. Time to rest up for the hard part of the trip.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Hong Kong
Saturday, October 11, 2008
It’s hard to believe that we will be disembarking in Singapore in just 11 days. It seems like we just came on board. Nonetheless, we have been to fascinating places already with even more exotic ports to come.
Today, we were in Hong Kong. Even the sound of it does something, doesn’t it? It’s no longer the seedy backwater portrayed in the old black-and-white films; it is a modern, thriving, vibrant city which rivals Shanghai for high-rise office buildings on its exciting waterfront. There are differences, of course. The Hong Kong roads are smoother; the highway system is more developed; and the people are definitely more Westernized. There is a hustle-and-bustle of a business-oriented city that escaped the Communist takeover. In other cities in Asia and Eastern Europe, there was a feeling of inferiority and depression, especially in Budapest. It was as if these places were still suffering from the mind-set of oppression. The Hong Kong attitude is anything but depressed.
Because we were here two years ago, we were the line leaders today. We had decided to introduce Ed and Roxanne to the highlights without paying HAL prices; we also picked up a Canadian couple at breakfast who asked if they could tag along. Places that must be seen include Victoria Peak, Repulse Bay, Aberdeen and Stanley. We were able to get to three out of four today. The Aberdeen floating village will have to wait for the Pettuses’ return.
We started around 9:15 by walking through the adjacent Ocean Mall [to which the Amsterdam is docked] and heading to the Star Ferry. This ferry service, which costs $1.70 HKD, connects Kowloon, the mainland where we are tied up, to the island of Hong Kong. The cost is really minimal since the Hong Kong dollar is only valued at 14 cents in US dollars; the one-way fare, therefore, is about twenty cents. The ten-minute crossing brought us to a terminal which incorporated a shopping complex, which we avoided, and a system of overhead walkways which took us over about six blocks of heavily trafficked downtown roadways. By following well-place signs, we had no difficulty finding our way to the Victoria Peak Tram station. The walk from the Star Ferry was probably over a mile, the last 3 blocks of which were very uphill. We felt like we were walking to the top of the Peak.
Because we were early, we had only a five minute wait for the tram to arrive. It is an upside down cable car – the cable lies under the tramcars much like those in San Francisco. We boarded the tram and were careful to sit on the right-hand side of the car. This afforded us the best view as we ascended 1500-foot Victoria Peak. The angle is so steep, almost 45 degrees at some points, that it appears that the highrise apartment buildings in the hillside are slanted. Of course, it created is an optical illusion by the steep pitch of the mountain.
Once atop Victoria Peak, Hong Kong’s highest point, Roxanne, Ed and the Canadians decided to pay extra to go to a higher observation point on top of the Tram building. While they did this, MA and D got cold drinks at the dread Starbuck’s. We shared a table with a young, apparently Chinese, girl who, we discovered, worked for in finance for Franklin Templeton; she had been in HK for a year after living for the previous sixteen years in the Fort Lauderdale area. In fact, she had gone to school at Florida Atlantic in Boca and University of Miami. It was like old home week. We were joined at the table by the rest of our group when they had taken enough pictures from the observation deck. Rather than walk the outdoor path to see Hong Kong from a slightly different angle, we rode the Tram back down the hill. At the bottom, there was a horribly long line waiting to board trams for the Peak. We felt smart for having arrived so early that we had no line to contend with.
Our intention today was to take public transit from the Peak to Repulse Bay and then Stanley. We found out that there was no bus service connecting the Peak to either place. We were disappointed but at least got to use the round-trip tickets for the Tram. When we reached our starting point, we split up because there are no minivan taxis in HK. We and the Pettii took a cab to Repulse Bay, leaving the Canadians to find their own taxi.
Repulse Bay is named for a British naval vessel which was stationed there for defensive purposes in the Nineteenth Century. It is now a public beach which we visited in 2006. Today was warm enough that the beach was busy, but not crowded, with locals who were enjoying a Saturday cooling off. We walked to the far end of the beach [our real destination] where there were Chinese and Chinese-inspired displays. There were also several little Buddhist shrines with burning incense. Mostly, though, there was a profusion of reds and golds, dragons and Chinese gods and goddesses. Ed took pictures so he would k now that he had been there and we headed for Stanley.
The Stanley Market appears to be a collection of storefronts selling knockoff and other cheap merchandise. While there some “legitimate” stores, most are selling junk. Before finding ways to enrich the local merchants, we decided to find someplace for lunch. We ended up in a dive on a side alley and were the only Westerners in the place. The employee who saw us walk in spoke passable English and asked if we minded sharing a table with four locals with spiked hair. Of course we didn’t mind! This was authenticity. We were handed menus in English with pictures as well as printed English menus. Eventually we got the young man’s attention again and were able to place our order – each couple ordered “mixed meat” dumplings and Singapore street noodles. And real Cokes! We have decided that high-test Coca Cola is the nectar of the gods.
Anyway, the Cokes came first, for which we were grateful, but the waiter did not bring glasses of ice as he had for our tablemates. We decided later that he was probably smart to serve the drinks that way. He also did not bring glasses of water, again probably a good idea. There is no telling what surprises might have been waiting for us in the water or ice.
The dumplings came in a bowl of soup and noodles with a vegetable stalk of some sort and a spinach leaf in it. The dumplings were a disappointment after the steamed ones we had had in Shanghai several days ago, and the “mixed meat” included shrimp which Roxanne is allergic to. The street noodles were good and very spicy. By the time our food arrived, the four tugs had left and a family of three had replaced them. The wife/mother spoke English and told us the food was okay. We assumed she meant that it was safe for us to eat, which was very reassuring. We ate as much as we could, then paid and headed out for shopping.
We bought several presents and a necklace for MA. We wandered some more and came to the Stanley waterfront, a markedly different area from the market. Here, there was a wide pedestrian-only esplanade fronting the beach. On the city side, there were countless tourist restaurants and bars. MA and D both said it reminded them of the bars and bistros surrounding the Old Square in Prague. They were full of Westerners and we were glad we had not eaten in this area. We had come for the experience, not for restaurants full of Holland America passengers.
We were going to take the bus back to the Star Ferry, but taxis were plentiful that we took their presence as a sign that we were to take one. Our cabbie took a slightly longer-than-necessary route to the Ferry terminal but avoided the heavily trafficked roads and came over the hills on a two-lane road that had more twists than we could count. Let it be said that there were no straight sections to this route. None. Nada.
Once again, we were lucky because there was no crowd for the ferry and less than a one minute wait for the gates to open. We enjoyed the ten-minute ride back to Kowloon [the mainland side of the harbor], found our way through the shopping center and were home. Once we had all had a chance to wash up, we met in the Crow’s Nest for another Coke before going our separate ways prior to dinner.
MA and D went to the Explorers’ Lounge for a drink before dinner and were joined by Roxanne while Ed went to Deck 8 [Lido] to take pictures of the light and laser show which starts at 8 o’clock. Every night, office buildings in HK put on a show which includes the aforementioned lasers and light displays on the fronts of many of the offices. We watched it with Roxanne from our dinner table while we waited for Ed.
We will be in HK again tomorrow, then we have a day at sea before making port in Danang, Vietnam on Tuesday
It’s hard to believe that we will be disembarking in Singapore in just 11 days. It seems like we just came on board. Nonetheless, we have been to fascinating places already with even more exotic ports to come.
Today, we were in Hong Kong. Even the sound of it does something, doesn’t it? It’s no longer the seedy backwater portrayed in the old black-and-white films; it is a modern, thriving, vibrant city which rivals Shanghai for high-rise office buildings on its exciting waterfront. There are differences, of course. The Hong Kong roads are smoother; the highway system is more developed; and the people are definitely more Westernized. There is a hustle-and-bustle of a business-oriented city that escaped the Communist takeover. In other cities in Asia and Eastern Europe, there was a feeling of inferiority and depression, especially in Budapest. It was as if these places were still suffering from the mind-set of oppression. The Hong Kong attitude is anything but depressed.
Because we were here two years ago, we were the line leaders today. We had decided to introduce Ed and Roxanne to the highlights without paying HAL prices; we also picked up a Canadian couple at breakfast who asked if they could tag along. Places that must be seen include Victoria Peak, Repulse Bay, Aberdeen and Stanley. We were able to get to three out of four today. The Aberdeen floating village will have to wait for the Pettuses’ return.
We started around 9:15 by walking through the adjacent Ocean Mall [to which the Amsterdam is docked] and heading to the Star Ferry. This ferry service, which costs $1.70 HKD, connects Kowloon, the mainland where we are tied up, to the island of Hong Kong. The cost is really minimal since the Hong Kong dollar is only valued at 14 cents in US dollars; the one-way fare, therefore, is about twenty cents. The ten-minute crossing brought us to a terminal which incorporated a shopping complex, which we avoided, and a system of overhead walkways which took us over about six blocks of heavily trafficked downtown roadways. By following well-place signs, we had no difficulty finding our way to the Victoria Peak Tram station. The walk from the Star Ferry was probably over a mile, the last 3 blocks of which were very uphill. We felt like we were walking to the top of the Peak.
Because we were early, we had only a five minute wait for the tram to arrive. It is an upside down cable car – the cable lies under the tramcars much like those in San Francisco. We boarded the tram and were careful to sit on the right-hand side of the car. This afforded us the best view as we ascended 1500-foot Victoria Peak. The angle is so steep, almost 45 degrees at some points, that it appears that the highrise apartment buildings in the hillside are slanted. Of course, it created is an optical illusion by the steep pitch of the mountain.
Once atop Victoria Peak, Hong Kong’s highest point, Roxanne, Ed and the Canadians decided to pay extra to go to a higher observation point on top of the Tram building. While they did this, MA and D got cold drinks at the dread Starbuck’s. We shared a table with a young, apparently Chinese, girl who, we discovered, worked for in finance for Franklin Templeton; she had been in HK for a year after living for the previous sixteen years in the Fort Lauderdale area. In fact, she had gone to school at Florida Atlantic in Boca and University of Miami. It was like old home week. We were joined at the table by the rest of our group when they had taken enough pictures from the observation deck. Rather than walk the outdoor path to see Hong Kong from a slightly different angle, we rode the Tram back down the hill. At the bottom, there was a horribly long line waiting to board trams for the Peak. We felt smart for having arrived so early that we had no line to contend with.
Our intention today was to take public transit from the Peak to Repulse Bay and then Stanley. We found out that there was no bus service connecting the Peak to either place. We were disappointed but at least got to use the round-trip tickets for the Tram. When we reached our starting point, we split up because there are no minivan taxis in HK. We and the Pettii took a cab to Repulse Bay, leaving the Canadians to find their own taxi.
Repulse Bay is named for a British naval vessel which was stationed there for defensive purposes in the Nineteenth Century. It is now a public beach which we visited in 2006. Today was warm enough that the beach was busy, but not crowded, with locals who were enjoying a Saturday cooling off. We walked to the far end of the beach [our real destination] where there were Chinese and Chinese-inspired displays. There were also several little Buddhist shrines with burning incense. Mostly, though, there was a profusion of reds and golds, dragons and Chinese gods and goddesses. Ed took pictures so he would k now that he had been there and we headed for Stanley.
The Stanley Market appears to be a collection of storefronts selling knockoff and other cheap merchandise. While there some “legitimate” stores, most are selling junk. Before finding ways to enrich the local merchants, we decided to find someplace for lunch. We ended up in a dive on a side alley and were the only Westerners in the place. The employee who saw us walk in spoke passable English and asked if we minded sharing a table with four locals with spiked hair. Of course we didn’t mind! This was authenticity. We were handed menus in English with pictures as well as printed English menus. Eventually we got the young man’s attention again and were able to place our order – each couple ordered “mixed meat” dumplings and Singapore street noodles. And real Cokes! We have decided that high-test Coca Cola is the nectar of the gods.
Anyway, the Cokes came first, for which we were grateful, but the waiter did not bring glasses of ice as he had for our tablemates. We decided later that he was probably smart to serve the drinks that way. He also did not bring glasses of water, again probably a good idea. There is no telling what surprises might have been waiting for us in the water or ice.
The dumplings came in a bowl of soup and noodles with a vegetable stalk of some sort and a spinach leaf in it. The dumplings were a disappointment after the steamed ones we had had in Shanghai several days ago, and the “mixed meat” included shrimp which Roxanne is allergic to. The street noodles were good and very spicy. By the time our food arrived, the four tugs had left and a family of three had replaced them. The wife/mother spoke English and told us the food was okay. We assumed she meant that it was safe for us to eat, which was very reassuring. We ate as much as we could, then paid and headed out for shopping.
We bought several presents and a necklace for MA. We wandered some more and came to the Stanley waterfront, a markedly different area from the market. Here, there was a wide pedestrian-only esplanade fronting the beach. On the city side, there were countless tourist restaurants and bars. MA and D both said it reminded them of the bars and bistros surrounding the Old Square in Prague. They were full of Westerners and we were glad we had not eaten in this area. We had come for the experience, not for restaurants full of Holland America passengers.
We were going to take the bus back to the Star Ferry, but taxis were plentiful that we took their presence as a sign that we were to take one. Our cabbie took a slightly longer-than-necessary route to the Ferry terminal but avoided the heavily trafficked roads and came over the hills on a two-lane road that had more twists than we could count. Let it be said that there were no straight sections to this route. None. Nada.
Once again, we were lucky because there was no crowd for the ferry and less than a one minute wait for the gates to open. We enjoyed the ten-minute ride back to Kowloon [the mainland side of the harbor], found our way through the shopping center and were home. Once we had all had a chance to wash up, we met in the Crow’s Nest for another Coke before going our separate ways prior to dinner.
MA and D went to the Explorers’ Lounge for a drink before dinner and were joined by Roxanne while Ed went to Deck 8 [Lido] to take pictures of the light and laser show which starts at 8 o’clock. Every night, office buildings in HK put on a show which includes the aforementioned lasers and light displays on the fronts of many of the offices. We watched it with Roxanne from our dinner table while we waited for Ed.
We will be in HK again tomorrow, then we have a day at sea before making port in Danang, Vietnam on Tuesday
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Shanghai Highlghts
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
We did, indeed, meet Roxanne, Ed, Patti and Russ at 9:15 in the Ocean Bar for another Asian adventure. Once on the dock, we waited only a few minutes for Kiana and Mr. Wong to appear. Our first stop was the old Jewish Quarter, often referred to as “Little Vienna” because so many Austrian Jews settled there prior to WWII. According to Kiana, there were three distinct in-migrations of Jews to Shanghai, the first two occurring during the Nineteenth Century. The last, best known group came to escape the Nazis prior to and even during WWII. Despite public protestations of support for Jewish refugees, no government would set quotas or willingly accept large numbers of the Jews; Shanghai was the only city which would take them in. As things turned out, many went from the frying pan into the fire when the Japanese occupied Shanghai. As allies of the Germans, they established a ghetto about 1 km on a side for the Jews. They could leave during the day for work or whatever, but had to be in the ghetto from evening until morning. Several Jewish refugees joined the Communists in their fight against the Japanese, a move which may have protected all of them when the Japanese were pushed out.
Our journey back to the late 1930s and 1940s began at Huoshan Park. Although the park comprises less than 1 acre, it is currently a busy place, filled with elderly Chinese who come to relax, dance, exercise and socialize. During the Second World War, the Jewish refugees from Europe often came to this park to relax and socialize; the more things change, the more they stay the same. In the park is a monument commemorating the “Designated Area for Stateless Refugees.”
When we left the park, we walked through “the old neighborhood.” Although there are no Jews left, the basic architectural structures are still visible – Chinese style roofs with European windows. There are probably no Jews in Shanghai anymore, but their memory is being kept alive by the Shanghai Municipal Tourism Administrative Commission which has printed brochures about the area and which maintains the old synagogue. Among the residents of Little Vienna and the Shanghai ghetto are Michael Blumenthal, former US Secretary of the Treasury who is currently curator of the Jewish Museum in Berlin, and the late Rabbi Benjamin Steinberg, MA’s principal at the Bais Yaakov School.
We walked to the Shanghai Jewish Refugees Museum, housed in the former Ohel Moshe Synagogue. In 2007, the government of Hongkou District budgeted the equivalent of $1 million USD for the complete renovation of the synagogue in accordance with the original plans filed with the city. We donned clear plastic booties before entering the interior of the building. The first floor was rather stark. There are few furnishings although the second floor, which we assumed was where the women prayed, contained some photographs of refugees as well as some artifacts including an old sewing machine. The main floor had a tall wooden ark to hold the torah scrolls, but the scrolls themselves are apparently in storage somewhere; the docent did not know where they had been taken. Park-style wooden benches were arranged in the first floor, too, but there was no seating on the second level. Whether that reflects the reality of the synagogue in 1928 [its date of construction] is an unknown –it is possible that those responsible for the 2007 renovation either were not interested in the interior fittings or had no way to know what they looked like. The third floor held more photos memorializing reunions of former residents or their children along with a conference table; no explanation was offered for the table’s presence.
We retraced our steps from the third floor to ground level and, still wearing our booties, went to an out building which serves as a museum dedicated to telling the story of the Shanghai refugees. After viewing a short film which placed the displaced Jews in some historical context, we were free to look at displays showing various aspects of life in the ghetto. There were reproductions of period photos with captions in Chinese and English. This is the first instance of full English transliteration we have seen in our five field trips so far. Even the film had English narration. After we had seen as much as we could or wanted to, we crossed the courtyard to a display of works by Canadian artists; the artists had used the Shanghai refugees as their inspiration in creating paintings and tapestries. We finished there and went back to the synagogue to return our booties and meet Mr. Wong with the minivan.
Our second major stop today was the Bund. MA and D had visited the Bund two years ago but thought it was worth seeing again. Besides, Roxanne, Ed, Patti and Russ had never seen it before. The Bund is a pedestrian esplanade which parallels the river in Shanghai. On the near bank, “behind” the Bund are many European-style buildings which represent “old” Shanghai, the city of the 1920s and 1930s when there was a distinct European flavor to this mercantile center. On the far bank stand many of Shanghai’s newest skyscrapers, representing the “new” Shanghai. The city’s signature the Onion, is directly across the river from the Bund. It is a 1500 foot tall television mast, the third tallest in the world. Its distinctive architecture is easily recognized around the world in advertisements and stories about Shanghai. Its tower consists of a series of spheres topped by the TV mast. It is visible for miles from shipboard as one sails up the river, and it is visible from much of Shanghai if one is willing to look through the construction cranes which are ever-present.
We did not spend too much time on the Bund. The vendors were thick and aggressive and there really isn’t much to do other than take in the two opposing skylines. There were too many other tourists, mostly Chinese, to just stroll, so we left and headed to the Yu Yuan Garden. Once again, this was a venue which we had visited two years ago but which the others in the group had not seen. Russ and Patti opted to wait outside the Gardens for us as we and the Pettuses, led by Kiana, paid for tickets and entered this sanctuary.
The Yu Yuan Garden is more “garden” than the house we visited yesterday in Zhouzhaung, but it is still basically a series of buildings in which a family lived and conducted business. Larger and more elaborate than yesterday’s, it is a zig-zag of paths, rocks gardens and buildings. Dragons abound, at one point appearing as a wall and at others as ornaments on the roofs of buildings. There are figures of other animals on the roofs as well. Add in several bridges, tree and rock formations, lots of water and koi which respond to hand-clapping, and you have some idea of what this place is about. Mostly, though, it is peaceful. After the hubbub of the shopping and food plaza outside, a recreation of old-style Shanghai, the calm of Yu Yuan is refreshing. Sadly, the exit takes visitors right back to the confusion of thousands of people, Chinese and Western, jostling for space at the food vendors, Starbucks, McDonalds, Dairy Queen and Quail-on-a-Stick.
We chose to postpone lunch and shop for pearls, so we hiked back to Mr. Wong and the car. Mr. wong is no Kusnadi, Jon and Briton’s driver, but he was skillful and alert and nobody died. Our kidneys and other internal organs may have suffered temporary damage on the streets of Shanghai, but Wong delivered us, eventually, to a building which housed a pearl “manufacturer.” We got the VIP treatment which include the sacrificial slaughtering of an eight-year old fresh-water oyster so we could see how the pearls formed inside the shell. These are cultured pearls, so the staff was confident the oyster would have a pearl. It came through like a champ with about ten distinct pearls plus some unformed ones which will become mother-of-pearl. The sales staff was attentive, but, once again, we were the only people there. MA bought a strand of pearls and matching earrings; Patti bought two necklaces and Roxanne bought a mother-of-pearl slide on a chain. The other husbands were not as happy as their wives about this stop.
Finally, we went for lunch. We waffled about staying out or returning to the ship but decided to eat in Shanghai since we could always eat on shipboard. Another factor was the fact that we had promised to take Kiana and Wong to lunch today. Kiana picked what she said later was her favorite restaurant and, in hindsight, we can understand why. The décor was authentic Chinese with lots of reds. We were shbown to a table for eight and Kiana began to explain some of our options. We decided to let her do most of the ordering but reminded her of all the food we had left uneaten yesterday. When the food started arriving, it was placed on a lazy Susan in the middle of the table; we spun it around to get the food within serving distance. And what food! Dishes included eggplant; chicken and cashews; sweet and sour pork; fried shrimp; pork in pancakes; street noodles and probably others. We had hot tea made by pouring water over whole tea leaves and soda by the can [not rationed]. The eight of us ate every scrap of food but were neither hungry nor over-full; it was just the right amount of food. Kiana’s timing was perfect, too. She explained that the chef left at 2 o’clock so we had to order quickly. Sure enough, we were the last patrons in the restaurant and watched as the staff started turning off the lights. We were fat and happy and really glad that we had stayed out for lunch. D paid the bill for the group and left a tip as well. Lunch for the group, including the tip, came to about $80 US! We thought that the bill was wrong because it was so low and Kiana was worried that we thought it was too high.
We drove back to the ship, then, and received a surprise when Kiana asked to be paid in cash for the two days’ excursions. D went to the cabin to get enough cash and returned to pay her the $660 due. We all made nice, made sure she had our cards in case she is ever in the States and boarded the ship. Roxanne and Ed went to their cabin; Russ and Patti went to play trivia; and we got yuppie coffees and sat on our verandah and watched the barge traffic on the river.
This river is amazingly busy. At one point, there were 20 barges coming toward Shanghai, a dozen heading toward the South China Sea and others anchored in the middle. And that’s just what was visible from the stern of the ship. Even when we ate dinner last night, beginning at 8 o’clock, the river traffic had not let up. We can’t figure out why there are no collisions [but we felt the same way while Wong was trying to kill us in the car for the past two days]. The barges are filled with logs, coal, sand and more. They just keep coming like lemmings marching to the sea. It is a fascinating and unending parade. Tonight, we will be part of it as we are scheduled to depart at 9 p.m. The tides in the river are tricky, so we may leave early – two years ago we left at 1 p.m. instead of 6 o’clock and all the tours for the day were canceled. Passengers have been warned to be back by six tonight to be safe because anyone who misses the ship has a long walk to Hong Kong.
We’ll be at sea for the next two days so we can recover from the last two.
We did, indeed, meet Roxanne, Ed, Patti and Russ at 9:15 in the Ocean Bar for another Asian adventure. Once on the dock, we waited only a few minutes for Kiana and Mr. Wong to appear. Our first stop was the old Jewish Quarter, often referred to as “Little Vienna” because so many Austrian Jews settled there prior to WWII. According to Kiana, there were three distinct in-migrations of Jews to Shanghai, the first two occurring during the Nineteenth Century. The last, best known group came to escape the Nazis prior to and even during WWII. Despite public protestations of support for Jewish refugees, no government would set quotas or willingly accept large numbers of the Jews; Shanghai was the only city which would take them in. As things turned out, many went from the frying pan into the fire when the Japanese occupied Shanghai. As allies of the Germans, they established a ghetto about 1 km on a side for the Jews. They could leave during the day for work or whatever, but had to be in the ghetto from evening until morning. Several Jewish refugees joined the Communists in their fight against the Japanese, a move which may have protected all of them when the Japanese were pushed out.
Our journey back to the late 1930s and 1940s began at Huoshan Park. Although the park comprises less than 1 acre, it is currently a busy place, filled with elderly Chinese who come to relax, dance, exercise and socialize. During the Second World War, the Jewish refugees from Europe often came to this park to relax and socialize; the more things change, the more they stay the same. In the park is a monument commemorating the “Designated Area for Stateless Refugees.”
When we left the park, we walked through “the old neighborhood.” Although there are no Jews left, the basic architectural structures are still visible – Chinese style roofs with European windows. There are probably no Jews in Shanghai anymore, but their memory is being kept alive by the Shanghai Municipal Tourism Administrative Commission which has printed brochures about the area and which maintains the old synagogue. Among the residents of Little Vienna and the Shanghai ghetto are Michael Blumenthal, former US Secretary of the Treasury who is currently curator of the Jewish Museum in Berlin, and the late Rabbi Benjamin Steinberg, MA’s principal at the Bais Yaakov School.
We walked to the Shanghai Jewish Refugees Museum, housed in the former Ohel Moshe Synagogue. In 2007, the government of Hongkou District budgeted the equivalent of $1 million USD for the complete renovation of the synagogue in accordance with the original plans filed with the city. We donned clear plastic booties before entering the interior of the building. The first floor was rather stark. There are few furnishings although the second floor, which we assumed was where the women prayed, contained some photographs of refugees as well as some artifacts including an old sewing machine. The main floor had a tall wooden ark to hold the torah scrolls, but the scrolls themselves are apparently in storage somewhere; the docent did not know where they had been taken. Park-style wooden benches were arranged in the first floor, too, but there was no seating on the second level. Whether that reflects the reality of the synagogue in 1928 [its date of construction] is an unknown –it is possible that those responsible for the 2007 renovation either were not interested in the interior fittings or had no way to know what they looked like. The third floor held more photos memorializing reunions of former residents or their children along with a conference table; no explanation was offered for the table’s presence.
We retraced our steps from the third floor to ground level and, still wearing our booties, went to an out building which serves as a museum dedicated to telling the story of the Shanghai refugees. After viewing a short film which placed the displaced Jews in some historical context, we were free to look at displays showing various aspects of life in the ghetto. There were reproductions of period photos with captions in Chinese and English. This is the first instance of full English transliteration we have seen in our five field trips so far. Even the film had English narration. After we had seen as much as we could or wanted to, we crossed the courtyard to a display of works by Canadian artists; the artists had used the Shanghai refugees as their inspiration in creating paintings and tapestries. We finished there and went back to the synagogue to return our booties and meet Mr. Wong with the minivan.
Our second major stop today was the Bund. MA and D had visited the Bund two years ago but thought it was worth seeing again. Besides, Roxanne, Ed, Patti and Russ had never seen it before. The Bund is a pedestrian esplanade which parallels the river in Shanghai. On the near bank, “behind” the Bund are many European-style buildings which represent “old” Shanghai, the city of the 1920s and 1930s when there was a distinct European flavor to this mercantile center. On the far bank stand many of Shanghai’s newest skyscrapers, representing the “new” Shanghai. The city’s signature the Onion, is directly across the river from the Bund. It is a 1500 foot tall television mast, the third tallest in the world. Its distinctive architecture is easily recognized around the world in advertisements and stories about Shanghai. Its tower consists of a series of spheres topped by the TV mast. It is visible for miles from shipboard as one sails up the river, and it is visible from much of Shanghai if one is willing to look through the construction cranes which are ever-present.
We did not spend too much time on the Bund. The vendors were thick and aggressive and there really isn’t much to do other than take in the two opposing skylines. There were too many other tourists, mostly Chinese, to just stroll, so we left and headed to the Yu Yuan Garden. Once again, this was a venue which we had visited two years ago but which the others in the group had not seen. Russ and Patti opted to wait outside the Gardens for us as we and the Pettuses, led by Kiana, paid for tickets and entered this sanctuary.
The Yu Yuan Garden is more “garden” than the house we visited yesterday in Zhouzhaung, but it is still basically a series of buildings in which a family lived and conducted business. Larger and more elaborate than yesterday’s, it is a zig-zag of paths, rocks gardens and buildings. Dragons abound, at one point appearing as a wall and at others as ornaments on the roofs of buildings. There are figures of other animals on the roofs as well. Add in several bridges, tree and rock formations, lots of water and koi which respond to hand-clapping, and you have some idea of what this place is about. Mostly, though, it is peaceful. After the hubbub of the shopping and food plaza outside, a recreation of old-style Shanghai, the calm of Yu Yuan is refreshing. Sadly, the exit takes visitors right back to the confusion of thousands of people, Chinese and Western, jostling for space at the food vendors, Starbucks, McDonalds, Dairy Queen and Quail-on-a-Stick.
We chose to postpone lunch and shop for pearls, so we hiked back to Mr. Wong and the car. Mr. wong is no Kusnadi, Jon and Briton’s driver, but he was skillful and alert and nobody died. Our kidneys and other internal organs may have suffered temporary damage on the streets of Shanghai, but Wong delivered us, eventually, to a building which housed a pearl “manufacturer.” We got the VIP treatment which include the sacrificial slaughtering of an eight-year old fresh-water oyster so we could see how the pearls formed inside the shell. These are cultured pearls, so the staff was confident the oyster would have a pearl. It came through like a champ with about ten distinct pearls plus some unformed ones which will become mother-of-pearl. The sales staff was attentive, but, once again, we were the only people there. MA bought a strand of pearls and matching earrings; Patti bought two necklaces and Roxanne bought a mother-of-pearl slide on a chain. The other husbands were not as happy as their wives about this stop.
Finally, we went for lunch. We waffled about staying out or returning to the ship but decided to eat in Shanghai since we could always eat on shipboard. Another factor was the fact that we had promised to take Kiana and Wong to lunch today. Kiana picked what she said later was her favorite restaurant and, in hindsight, we can understand why. The décor was authentic Chinese with lots of reds. We were shbown to a table for eight and Kiana began to explain some of our options. We decided to let her do most of the ordering but reminded her of all the food we had left uneaten yesterday. When the food started arriving, it was placed on a lazy Susan in the middle of the table; we spun it around to get the food within serving distance. And what food! Dishes included eggplant; chicken and cashews; sweet and sour pork; fried shrimp; pork in pancakes; street noodles and probably others. We had hot tea made by pouring water over whole tea leaves and soda by the can [not rationed]. The eight of us ate every scrap of food but were neither hungry nor over-full; it was just the right amount of food. Kiana’s timing was perfect, too. She explained that the chef left at 2 o’clock so we had to order quickly. Sure enough, we were the last patrons in the restaurant and watched as the staff started turning off the lights. We were fat and happy and really glad that we had stayed out for lunch. D paid the bill for the group and left a tip as well. Lunch for the group, including the tip, came to about $80 US! We thought that the bill was wrong because it was so low and Kiana was worried that we thought it was too high.
We drove back to the ship, then, and received a surprise when Kiana asked to be paid in cash for the two days’ excursions. D went to the cabin to get enough cash and returned to pay her the $660 due. We all made nice, made sure she had our cards in case she is ever in the States and boarded the ship. Roxanne and Ed went to their cabin; Russ and Patti went to play trivia; and we got yuppie coffees and sat on our verandah and watched the barge traffic on the river.
This river is amazingly busy. At one point, there were 20 barges coming toward Shanghai, a dozen heading toward the South China Sea and others anchored in the middle. And that’s just what was visible from the stern of the ship. Even when we ate dinner last night, beginning at 8 o’clock, the river traffic had not let up. We can’t figure out why there are no collisions [but we felt the same way while Wong was trying to kill us in the car for the past two days]. The barges are filled with logs, coal, sand and more. They just keep coming like lemmings marching to the sea. It is a fascinating and unending parade. Tonight, we will be part of it as we are scheduled to depart at 9 p.m. The tides in the river are tricky, so we may leave early – two years ago we left at 1 p.m. instead of 6 o’clock and all the tours for the day were canceled. Passengers have been warned to be back by six tonight to be safe because anyone who misses the ship has a long walk to Hong Kong.
We’ll be at sea for the next two days so we can recover from the last two.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
The Good Old Days
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
What a day! We were up before the wake-up call again, at 6:40 this time. Our breakfast tray arrived around 7:00, leaving us more than an hour and a half to get ready for today’s trip. D had e-mailed the tour operator yesterday to verify the pick-up time, but the ship’s internet service was lost until midnight, so he had no way to check for a reply until this morning. We were to be met by Kiana at 9 a.m. on the dock. We called Roxanne to let her know, then relaxed until 8:45 when we went to join them in the Ocean Bar. We proceeded to the gangway and were on our way.
We were early, of course, so started to obsess when our guide wasn’t there. Actually, we saw her and the driver pull into the lot a few minutes past 9, not really late at all. Considering the constant traffic in Shanghai, they did well to get there when they did. There were more than 20 full-size tour buses awaiting passengers this morning, so we had to wait for some of them to leave before we could get to our minivan and depart.
Our destination this morning was Zhouzhaung. It is allegedly South China’s best-known “water town,” about 35 miles outside Shanghai; traffic turned our journey into a 90 minute thrill ride. Zhouzhaung is surrounded by a large lake, rivers and canals. As they say, a river runs through it. The “new” town has become a vacation and resort destination judging from the number of hotels and villas nearby. Restaurants are everywhere. We stopped at a tourist rest area where Kiana bought our entry tickets for the old town itself. Then, we drove a little farther until we were at its entrance. Kiana handed over our tickets and we entered.
It was nothing like we expected. Once again, there were restaurants on both sides of the little river which ran through the town. They reminded us a little of the places in Jimbaran, Bali, where we had had a sunset dinner with the kids last year. Like Jimbaran, each restaurant had fresh seafood on display; swimming in the windows would be a better way to visualize it. There were several types of local fish, crabs, shrimp, oysters or clams and other creatures we didn’t recognize. The store fronts were all similar, too, because the originals dated back centuries, although these were undoubtedly re-creations.
There were stalls where vendors offered clothing, toys and handicrafts. Women sat by the side of the pathway selling prawns and other seafood. One man had live turtles for sale; we assumed they were intended as a source of protein since there were turtles in several restaurant windows. One woman was hand pulling taffy using two sticks the size of pencils; another stall had a real hand-operated taffy pulling machine. There were locals sitting on the concrete river wall fishing. And in the river itself was an endless stream of small boats being steered through the river while passengers relaxes and, in some cases, drank tea.
We had expected gardens similar to the Yu Yuan Gardens we saw in Shanghai two years ago, but in Zhouzhaung, a garden simply indicates a house. Even then, “house” conjures up something different from the reality. Each property was a series of houses which often became increasingly large as one moved further into the compound. There would be a formal entry, a receiving room, a formal living room, a dining room and, of course, a kitchen. Sleeping quarters were upstairs. In the example we saw, the “house” was over 20,000 square feet. It included all of the details above plus side passages for discreet exits and for use by servants who were to be invisible whenever possible. In the particular house we visited, there were also bronze friezes depicting the life and strife of the owner. The furniture was made in the style of the Ming dynasty and was simple but beautiful. It would not have been comfortable since it was all solid wood with no cushioning.
At another stop, we visited a children’s museum. We listened to a local flute player as he performed traditional tunes to an otherwise empty outdoor auditorium. When we went inside, we saw costumes from an earlier era. They represented the way lords and others dressed at the time Zhouzhaung was founded. It was a little like the exhibit of the First Ladies’ gowns at the Smithsonian on a iny scale because there were only about a dozen costumes all together.
We also visited a Buddhist temple which fronted on the lake. As we walked toward the temple, we saw an elderly couple working a fishing boat. She was in the stern using the tiller to propel and steer the boat while her husband was in the front apparently looking for fish. The temple itself was not as richly decorated as others we have seen. It reminded us of the Temple of the Jade Buddha in Shanghai. The Jade Buddha was more elaborate in its interior decorations, but the temple at Zhouzhaung had a more serene exterior since it was in the countryside, not in downtown Shanghai.
We wandered through more of the old town, feeling all the while that we were in the souk in Marrakech. Without Kiana, we might never have found our way out. Eventually, we came back to the main path and returned to the entrance where the driver was awaiting us. Time for lunch!
We drove for about one minute to a local hotel for our meal. The tour company thought this would be safer for us than one of the other local eateries, and, considering the health problems emanating from China, we were grateful. We were the only people in the room. Food began to arrive shortly after we sat down – rice [of course]; a chicken dish reminiscent of moo goo gai pan; beef with bell peppers; scrambled eggs and tomatoes; spinach; potatoes in a strong ginger sauce; fish soup and barbecued hams. We had seen these for sale in the old town. They were little pig shanks, really, which had been marinated and barbecued. They had smelled good in the markets and tasted good at lunch, too.
After lunch, we decided not to return to the old town and headed, instead, back to the Amsterdam. Traffic was not as bad coming home, but it was still 4 o’clock when we boarded the ship. We told Kiana that tomorrow we wanted to see the Bund, Jewish Quarter and Yu Yuan as well as have some time to shop. We also told her that we would take her and the driver, Wong, to lunch tomorrow. We are to meet them at the gangway at 9:30 in the hope that we will have less traffic to fight.
What a day! We were up before the wake-up call again, at 6:40 this time. Our breakfast tray arrived around 7:00, leaving us more than an hour and a half to get ready for today’s trip. D had e-mailed the tour operator yesterday to verify the pick-up time, but the ship’s internet service was lost until midnight, so he had no way to check for a reply until this morning. We were to be met by Kiana at 9 a.m. on the dock. We called Roxanne to let her know, then relaxed until 8:45 when we went to join them in the Ocean Bar. We proceeded to the gangway and were on our way.
We were early, of course, so started to obsess when our guide wasn’t there. Actually, we saw her and the driver pull into the lot a few minutes past 9, not really late at all. Considering the constant traffic in Shanghai, they did well to get there when they did. There were more than 20 full-size tour buses awaiting passengers this morning, so we had to wait for some of them to leave before we could get to our minivan and depart.
Our destination this morning was Zhouzhaung. It is allegedly South China’s best-known “water town,” about 35 miles outside Shanghai; traffic turned our journey into a 90 minute thrill ride. Zhouzhaung is surrounded by a large lake, rivers and canals. As they say, a river runs through it. The “new” town has become a vacation and resort destination judging from the number of hotels and villas nearby. Restaurants are everywhere. We stopped at a tourist rest area where Kiana bought our entry tickets for the old town itself. Then, we drove a little farther until we were at its entrance. Kiana handed over our tickets and we entered.
It was nothing like we expected. Once again, there were restaurants on both sides of the little river which ran through the town. They reminded us a little of the places in Jimbaran, Bali, where we had had a sunset dinner with the kids last year. Like Jimbaran, each restaurant had fresh seafood on display; swimming in the windows would be a better way to visualize it. There were several types of local fish, crabs, shrimp, oysters or clams and other creatures we didn’t recognize. The store fronts were all similar, too, because the originals dated back centuries, although these were undoubtedly re-creations.
There were stalls where vendors offered clothing, toys and handicrafts. Women sat by the side of the pathway selling prawns and other seafood. One man had live turtles for sale; we assumed they were intended as a source of protein since there were turtles in several restaurant windows. One woman was hand pulling taffy using two sticks the size of pencils; another stall had a real hand-operated taffy pulling machine. There were locals sitting on the concrete river wall fishing. And in the river itself was an endless stream of small boats being steered through the river while passengers relaxes and, in some cases, drank tea.
We had expected gardens similar to the Yu Yuan Gardens we saw in Shanghai two years ago, but in Zhouzhaung, a garden simply indicates a house. Even then, “house” conjures up something different from the reality. Each property was a series of houses which often became increasingly large as one moved further into the compound. There would be a formal entry, a receiving room, a formal living room, a dining room and, of course, a kitchen. Sleeping quarters were upstairs. In the example we saw, the “house” was over 20,000 square feet. It included all of the details above plus side passages for discreet exits and for use by servants who were to be invisible whenever possible. In the particular house we visited, there were also bronze friezes depicting the life and strife of the owner. The furniture was made in the style of the Ming dynasty and was simple but beautiful. It would not have been comfortable since it was all solid wood with no cushioning.
At another stop, we visited a children’s museum. We listened to a local flute player as he performed traditional tunes to an otherwise empty outdoor auditorium. When we went inside, we saw costumes from an earlier era. They represented the way lords and others dressed at the time Zhouzhaung was founded. It was a little like the exhibit of the First Ladies’ gowns at the Smithsonian on a iny scale because there were only about a dozen costumes all together.
We also visited a Buddhist temple which fronted on the lake. As we walked toward the temple, we saw an elderly couple working a fishing boat. She was in the stern using the tiller to propel and steer the boat while her husband was in the front apparently looking for fish. The temple itself was not as richly decorated as others we have seen. It reminded us of the Temple of the Jade Buddha in Shanghai. The Jade Buddha was more elaborate in its interior decorations, but the temple at Zhouzhaung had a more serene exterior since it was in the countryside, not in downtown Shanghai.
We wandered through more of the old town, feeling all the while that we were in the souk in Marrakech. Without Kiana, we might never have found our way out. Eventually, we came back to the main path and returned to the entrance where the driver was awaiting us. Time for lunch!
We drove for about one minute to a local hotel for our meal. The tour company thought this would be safer for us than one of the other local eateries, and, considering the health problems emanating from China, we were grateful. We were the only people in the room. Food began to arrive shortly after we sat down – rice [of course]; a chicken dish reminiscent of moo goo gai pan; beef with bell peppers; scrambled eggs and tomatoes; spinach; potatoes in a strong ginger sauce; fish soup and barbecued hams. We had seen these for sale in the old town. They were little pig shanks, really, which had been marinated and barbecued. They had smelled good in the markets and tasted good at lunch, too.
After lunch, we decided not to return to the old town and headed, instead, back to the Amsterdam. Traffic was not as bad coming home, but it was still 4 o’clock when we boarded the ship. We told Kiana that tomorrow we wanted to see the Bund, Jewish Quarter and Yu Yuan as well as have some time to shop. We also told her that we would take her and the driver, Wong, to lunch tomorrow. We are to meet them at the gangway at 9:30 in the hope that we will have less traffic to fight.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Sea Day
Monday, October 6, 2008
Our semi-private verandah is now furnished with two chairs in addition to two stacks of loungers. We sat outside and read this morning before trivia and lunch, and again in the afternoon. It affords a nice view of whatever we have already passed [unless we go in reverse] which today included an increasing number of boats. Most seemed to be small fishing vessels, but there were some freighters on the horizon. The closer we are to Shanghai, the more boats we will see.
We are scheduled to sail up Shanghai’s river tomorrow morning beginning around 5 a.m. Two years ago, D video-taped our arrival in Shanghai aboard the Statendam, so there is no need to get up at dawn to do it again. Besides, we are reasonably sure that we will be docked farther from downtown than last time. This is not a major issue except as it impacts our field trip tomorrow. D sent an e-mail to the tour company this afternoon to double-check pick-up arrangements. Frustratingly, the ship’s internet connection was down most of the afternoon and evening. Rather than stay up past midnight to look for a response, he will check his e-mail first thing in the morning. Stay tuned for more details in tomorrow’s post.
The Chinese Passport Dance was much easier and quicker than the Japanese. We reported to the upper level of the dining room after breakfast, were handed our passports and led to the Chinese officials. They simply looked at the pictures in the passports and then at us and handed the documents back. We then turned them back to the HAL staff. We were in and out in less than five minutes.
We were tied for second in trivia this afternoon and will miss the next two contests while we tour the Shanghai area. D is trying to finish World Without End, as mentioned earlier, but it is almost 1000 pages long and he is only on page 250. Instead of reading this evening, as he intended, he was lured to the blackjack table where he spent 45 minutes breaking even. It could have much worse [and almost was].
We are to meet Ed and Roxanne at 8:30 tomorrow morning at the usual spot, the Ocean Bar, in hopes of being able to disembark for our tour of Zhouzhang, a village dating to the 13th Century, known for its canals and formal gardens. Lunch is included, but we will be careful not to eat raw veggies, etc., or drink the melamine-laced milk.
Only two days until the next debate – we will be ashore when it is broadcast live here Wednesday morning but should be able to see a rerun and at least snippets as the week goes on. My how time flies!
Our semi-private verandah is now furnished with two chairs in addition to two stacks of loungers. We sat outside and read this morning before trivia and lunch, and again in the afternoon. It affords a nice view of whatever we have already passed [unless we go in reverse] which today included an increasing number of boats. Most seemed to be small fishing vessels, but there were some freighters on the horizon. The closer we are to Shanghai, the more boats we will see.
We are scheduled to sail up Shanghai’s river tomorrow morning beginning around 5 a.m. Two years ago, D video-taped our arrival in Shanghai aboard the Statendam, so there is no need to get up at dawn to do it again. Besides, we are reasonably sure that we will be docked farther from downtown than last time. This is not a major issue except as it impacts our field trip tomorrow. D sent an e-mail to the tour company this afternoon to double-check pick-up arrangements. Frustratingly, the ship’s internet connection was down most of the afternoon and evening. Rather than stay up past midnight to look for a response, he will check his e-mail first thing in the morning. Stay tuned for more details in tomorrow’s post.
The Chinese Passport Dance was much easier and quicker than the Japanese. We reported to the upper level of the dining room after breakfast, were handed our passports and led to the Chinese officials. They simply looked at the pictures in the passports and then at us and handed the documents back. We then turned them back to the HAL staff. We were in and out in less than five minutes.
We were tied for second in trivia this afternoon and will miss the next two contests while we tour the Shanghai area. D is trying to finish World Without End, as mentioned earlier, but it is almost 1000 pages long and he is only on page 250. Instead of reading this evening, as he intended, he was lured to the blackjack table where he spent 45 minutes breaking even. It could have much worse [and almost was].
We are to meet Ed and Roxanne at 8:30 tomorrow morning at the usual spot, the Ocean Bar, in hopes of being able to disembark for our tour of Zhouzhang, a village dating to the 13th Century, known for its canals and formal gardens. Lunch is included, but we will be careful not to eat raw veggies, etc., or drink the melamine-laced milk.
Only two days until the next debate – we will be ashore when it is broadcast live here Wednesday morning but should be able to see a rerun and at least snippets as the week goes on. My how time flies!
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