Hoi An Musings

One of the weirdest experiences of our trip was the bus we took from Da Nang to Hue. The tickets we booked turned out to be on a "sleeping bus". It was indeed lucky that we only had a three hour trip, because this bus was excruciating.

It was entirely full of reclining double decker cots, designed for small people to recline in. There was a bin to put your feet into, underneath the head of the person in front of you. The cots were three wide, with very narrow aisles between each row. The Vietnamese, being of generally smaller stature, were probably not as cramped as we were, but I cannot imagine that the hard, plastic cushions were any more comfortable for them than they were for us.

The money here exchanges at 20,200 dong to a dollar. A trip to an ATM makes one into an instant millionaire, although we have to remember that 2,000,000 dong is just under $100. American dollars are accepted at most places, although you have to keep a keen eye on the exchange rate they use, because what you bargain down from the asking price you can lose on the exchange rate.

One of the curses of this society is the motorbike. It is the main mode of transport, as cars are too expensive for the average person and therefore rare, and public transit is non-existent. In most cities, there is no place to park, so they are all parked on the sidewalk, which means most sidewalks are completely blocked most of the time. Pedestrians are forced to walk in the street, which motorbikes own. One of the most annoying parts of getting around is the incessant shrill blaring of motorbike horns at close range. Peace of mind is constantly being shattered by these penetrating and incessant blasts, often coming with no discernable purpose other than to drive you to distraction.

Crossing the road on foot is dangerous and brutal, as no one pays attention to traffic lights. There is no enforcement of traffic rules, and the one accident we saw resulted in the guilty party driving away as quickly as she could, without exchanging so much as an "are you all right" with the other driver, who was still disentangling herself from her fallen scooter. Helmets are optional, and most of the ones that are worn are so flimsy that they would be of little help in a collision. The best time to be out is when they block the streets to motor traffic in the downtown core of Hoi An, so one only has bicycles and pedestrians to contend with.

There are over 400 tailor shops in Hoi An, all making made to measure clothes and shoes. They all offer similar styles,

although they will make up any style imagineable. They make suits, dresses, shirts, pants, all manner and stlyes of footwear, and anything else that can adorn or clothe the human form. That industry is the basis of tourism here, although the charming ancient streets

and beautiful waterfront, including an interesting sculpture garden, are also attractive. If only there weren't so many businesses doing the same thing, selling the same t-shirts and restaurants selling the same food, all striving for the same tourist dollar.

There are many expensive developments being built on the waterfront for miles south of Da Nang. These luxury condos, complete with golf courses, are meant to be sold to Vietnamese, not foreigners, and the kind of money needed to buy one is unlikely to be earned in a Hoi An tailor shop.

Good Morning, Vietnam!

We flew from Siem Reap directly to Ho Chi Minh City, then immediately to Da Nang. How familiar these names are, bringing back the war news from the '60s and early '70s, when Da Nang housed a huge US air base, and Ho Chi Minh was the leader of the forces fighting for an independent, unified Vietnam.
We have heard of many of these places, part of the war we all came of age opposing. In memory of those times, and in memory of those thousands who died fighting US domination, we toured some of the famous places of that era.

We started in Hue, an ancient city that became the old capital under the Nguyen dynasty, beginning in 1802. It continued as the capital of Vietnam until 1945, when the emperor abdicated and a new, communist regime was established in Ha Noi. The Citadel, an immense fortress, sits in decaying splendour on the north bank of the Perfume River, with moats on the other three sides. Some parts of it were severely damaged by American bombing, and the entire city was captured briefly during the Viet Cong Tet offensive. We spent an evening in a pleasant walk through the grounds, while Vietnamse boys played numerous games of soccer in the park. Within the Citadel

lies the Imperial Enclosure, where business of the state and Imperial functions were carried out, and within that the Forbidden Purple City which was reserved for the private life of the emperor. The only servants allowed inside the Forbidden Purple City were eunuchs, who posed no threat to the emperor's concubines. Now, all are welcome during visiting hours, including eunuchs, but the concubines are a distant memory.
Our second day here was devoted to a tour of the DMZ (The DeMilitarized Zone for you youngsters). This zone was on either side of the fictional border between northern and southern Vietnam. We saw a portion of the Ho Chi Minh Trail, the infiltration and supply route from the communist-held north. It looks very unimpressive now, but was the scene of a great deal of bombing and savage fighting as American troops attempted to interrupt or prevent the supplies and troops from making it further south. We also visited the site of the great seige at Khe Sanh, where American troops held out while suffering severe losses to keep a piece of real estate that had little military value, but was key to propaganda that illustrated American dominance. It's now mostly given over to the cultivation of rice, coffee and other crops, with a few bunkers and relics on display, including some captured American helicopters

and a transport plane. Locals sell momentos, like medals and dog tags, that have been dug out of the battlefield.
The DMZ is a complete misnomer, as it was one of the most heavily bombed areas of the war. A portion of it has been left as it was, with crters from bombs and shells overlapping on the scarred landscape. North of the DMZ is a vast tunnel network, parts of which have been maintained and are still accessible.

Local people used this network to shelter in during shelling and bombing, and it was part of the defensive works in the event that American troops should venture north. Some parts of this tunnel complex are over 23 meters deep. Over 200 people lived there full-time, and seven babies were born down in the tunnels.

The war that was fought against American dominance is now long past, and 37 years later this society looks like nothing that either side anticipated.

A Real Minefield - March 3, 2012

Today we had the sobering experience of a visit to the local War Museum, more properly an anti-war museum. Cambodia has had many wars, of course, but this museum commemorates the murderous regime of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge (1975-1978), the subsequent invasion by Vietnamese forces to put an end to that brutal regime, and the stubborn guerilla resistance put up by Pol Pot forces in the western, mountainous regions near the Thai border for years following the invasion (supported by the Americans). This resistance included planting countless thousands of land mines, which continue to kill and maim several hundred people every year.
Our guide was a 34 year old man who had lost an arm in a land mine explosion when he was 16 years old. He had been a child soldier, but was not in the military at the time of this tragedy, which killed several of his friends.
The museum was in a compound rather than a building, and had several small buildings where war relics are kept, including AK-47s, M-16s, and the many varieties of land mines,

which were planted in profuse numbers in this country. Our guide explained how all of these mines worked, including the Claymore, which was the particular type of mine that injured him. This mine is still available for purchase from American arms manufacturers.
Outside the small buildings were rusting tanks and artillery pieces of both American and Soviet manufacture, rocket launchers and other lethal hardware that has been recovered from battlefields in Cambodia. There was a grassy area that had a display of disarmed land mines, including near-invisible trip wires, and plastic mines that are as lethal as the metal ones, but the shrapnel from them does not show up on x-rays.
This chilling reminder of the consequences of modern warfare, and its brutal effects on non-combatants, makes me thankful that there has not been a war on Canadian soil since the American invasions of 1812-14.
Here, the after-effects of war are obvious. Most of a generation is missing. A Japanese NGO has helped some land mine survivors by teaching them to play traditional musical instruments. We saw a performance of one of these troupes of musicians, playing traditional instruments in order to feed their families.

The Temples of Angkor

These fabulous temples exceed those of Egypt and Greece in their scale and grandeur, and are at least their equal in craftsmanship. The first area we saw, Ankor Thom, is actually a fortified city of 10 square kilometres, built during the reign of Jayavarmin VII (1181-1219). The population is estimated to have been one million at its height. The houses, government buildings and palaces are all gone now, having been made of wood. Only the gods (and the King) were allowed to be housed in brick or stone, so only their temples have survived the centuries, along with the gates and walls of the great city.
Unfortunately, after the 15th century, Khmer civilization went into a decline, and the whole city gradually was abandoned. 400 years later, the jungle had reclaimed it, completely overgrowing the whole site. It was revived by the French colonialists, who reclaimed these great temples from the jungle once more. They painstakingly piled fallen stone blocks and recorded where they were found. Among many other things these records were cruelly destroyed by the Pol Pot regime, depriving Cambodians and the world of a method of reconstructing this great heritage.
We entered Angkor Thom by the 20 metre high South Gate, one of five gates to the city. The causeway across the moat leading to the gate has 54 stone gods to the left and 54 stone devils to the right

. After a drive further inside the city we reached the Bayon, having 54 towers that are each decorated with four faces of Avalokiteshvara,

a god whose face seemed to bear a close resemblance to that of Jayavarman VII himself!
It is beyond the scope of this recounting to relate all the myths shown in the statues and sculptures, and to describe the structural details of the many buildings along with their bas relief decorations. There are over 11,000 bas relief figures in this complex, occupying 1.2 kilometres.The few pictures I can post here will provide some small examples of the superb work that went into their creation.
Outside the Bayon is the 350 metre long Terrace of the Elepants,

a raised platform decorated for its whole length with life-sized stone elephants. It served as a giant reviewing stand for public ceremonies.
We next saw Ta Prom, another temple built at the behest of Jayavarma VII. It provides a graphic example of the power of the jungle to reclaim these temples. The awesome vitality and vigorous growth has lifted and encased blocks of delicately carved stone and had to be left intact at times for fear that to remove it would cause the original structures to collapse.

Some scenes from the film Lara Croft : Tomb Raider were filmed here.
Later in the afternoon we saw Angkor Wat, the largest religious structure in the world. We entered over a stone causeway that crossed a moat. My poor explanations would not do justice to this great monument so I'll just post a couple of pictures to show its grandeur.
It is incredible that these sites were largely unvisited until 1991, when the American bombing and the political turmoil in Cambodia had subsided and people began to visit as tourists. Now many thousands visit them every day, and the temples themselves are starting to show wear and tear from the pressures of this huge onslaught of tourism.

Siem Reap

This city has become a tourist mecca and is now overrun with tourist based businesses. Restaurants and bars are cheek by jowl with t-shirt stalls and clothing merchants. Tuk-tuk drivers (a sort of open rickshaw taxi pulled by a motor scooter) constantly ask if you want a ride, and massage spas, seemingly legitimate, offer their wares on every block. Someone has even created a t-shirt with a "no tuk-tuk, no massage today" message, spoofing the constant harassment of passers-by.
The sidewalks are regarded as convenient parking spots by car and tuk-tuk drivers, and no-one pays the slightest attention to traffic signs or stop lights. Traffic coming from all directions barely slows for intersections, and pedestrians wade cheerfully into this maelstrom, barely breaking stride as they cross. Drivers merely avoid them and continue on their way. Motorcycles dart into traffic from whatever direction, crossing lanes of oncoming traffic if that's what's required. Helmets seem to be optional. Foreigners are not allowed to rent motorcycles, which would be suicidal if permitted. The fact that we haven't yet seen an accident can only be attributed to some sort of divine intervention, in fact it's the best argument for the existence of God I have yet seen.
Markets function all day and

late into the night, and bars stay open until the small hours. Unique (to me) chilled soft drinks in unheard of flavours like grass jelly and chrysanthemum can be bought on the corner. There are many NGOs who try to support education, or orphans or other worthy causes by selling handicrafts, and some of those that are fairly traded will be featured at the Tea Room next season.
The French colonial period has left a cultural legacy that includes Le Malraux, a French Bistro style restauant named for a French leftist writer, intellectual and Gaullist cabinet minister. Interestingly, Andre Malraux spent part of his early 20s in Cambodia, investigating temples in the jungle. He was arrested at that time for theft of a bas relief from one of the temples.
The restaurant bearing his name, although a bit of an anachronism, served excellent food and had a decent wine list, mostly from Bordeaux and Burgundy, of course. Starters included pork terrine with salad, which was quite delicious. Barb had rack of lamb and scalloped potatoes en croute, and I had a pork rib chop, (shades of Au Pied de Cochon) and mashed green papaya, followed by an acceptable tarte au citron. The meal was quite delicious.
On the last day of our stay in Siem Reap, we found ourselves at Rosie's Guest House watching 4 Oscar winning movies. The copies we watched I'm sure were not pirated. There was free popcorn and 75 cent draft beer.

No Room to Spare - February 29

Our flight from Langkawi to Kuala Lumpur left late but was uneventful. We landed in KL after 10 pm, not having eaten dinner. As our plane for Siem Reap was leaving around 6:30 am, we had booked a cheap hotel near the airport and decided to eat at an airport concession, and then get some sleep.
After a boring meal, heavy on the rice, we took the shuttle to our hotel, one of the Tune chain. We entered our room and burst out laughing, it was literally one foot larger than the double bed on all sides. Two hangers were hanging on a hook on the wall in lieu of a closet, and a tiny TV screen perched precariously up in one corner. We had to put our luggage in the bathroom in order to get into the bed. Forsightfully we had paid extra for air conditioning, one towel, and a vanity pack which included a bar of soap and a disposable toothbrush. We set our alarm for 5:00 am and went to sleep, as there was no room to do anything else. I guess we got what we paid for, and not a centimeter more.
It didn't take long the next morning to leave the room, as we had no trouble finding the door. We made the flight with no trouble, looking forward to Siem Reap.

Langkawi

We sailed up the long, narrow channel into the marina, starting our new Langkawi adventure. The marina is part of Rebak Island Resort, a beautiful place on a small island 15 minutes away from Langkawi by ferry.
Michael and Sheila docked the boat with a precision based on long experience, while Barb and I watched. We checked into a room at the resort, and Michael and Sheila stayed aboard their boat in the marina. The room was lovely, and the grounds quite beautiful. The resort buildings were spread among the tropical forest, always within sight of the ocean. Hornbills, large birds with dramatic black and white plumage, and large bright yellow bills like a toucan, flew among the trees. Large lizards, mercifully shy of humans, could be seen in the undergrowth.
Michael and Sheila met several friends from other boats in the marina, as this yachties-friendly resort throws open its doors for them. People who arrive on yachts (us) get a reduced room rate. There is a special restaurant overlooking the marina for their use affectionately called "The Hard Dock Cafe". There are haul-out facilities if people need to repair or maintain their boats, as well as laundry and showers.
We rented a car and spent our first day in Langkawi driving around and reprovisioning the boat for Sheila and Michael's upcoming trip to Thailand. We went to a large Chinese grocery and a liquor warehouse (Langkawi is duty free), and, after much searching and debate, found a post office where we could mail some purchases back to Canada so we wouldn't have to carry them with us. We also toured Kuah Town, the main town on the island. We returned to the boat and had dinner that night at the Hard Dock with Michael and Sheila, and sampled some of the wine that we found at the warehouse, a lovely prosecco.
The next day we returned to Langkawi, this time to see the island. After a pastry and cappucino stop at Telaga Harbour, we drove to the highest peak, Mount Raya, literally among the clouds, and could see for miles in all directions, clouds permitting. (photo)

Next was the Craft and Culture Centre where we saw batiking and silk painting,lovely and creative work done by local artisans. We had a surprisingly good lunch at a concession in the parking lot. The next place we visited was the Laman Padi, or Rice Paddy Museum. Since I am the only one in the group who cares about museums, I was dropped off at the front gates and went in to see the 14 acre site on my own.
It was a strange experience. I went into the museum, looked at the exhibits in the Heritage Gallery, which had exhibits on rice growing from ancient times to the present. No-one was present besides myself, no ticket seller, guide or guard. When I had finished, I went back outside past the Artist Centre, where there was very little art and no artists or attendants of any kind. I went down to the rice paddy exhibits, where a variety of rice is grown, and saw the rice growing, but not one rice farmer. On my way out I passed two restaurants and a prayer room. I could hear prep noises from what I presumed to be the kitchen areas of the restaurants, but no staff appeared. The prayer room was equally empty. It seems that rice growing on Langkawi, although a widespread and common activity, is done anonymously.
The next morning we rose and had a large farewell breakfast with Michael and Sheila, as we were leaving on the 5:00 pm ferry to catch a flight to Kuala Lumpur, en route for Siem Reap.

Up the Strait of Malacca - February 24

We cast off with the morning tide and headed out of Georgetown harbour, in the company of a cruise ship and several freighters. These soon outpaced us, and we continued on our north by northwesterly course making for Langkawi, mostly motoring with the help of a sail. We spotted occasional freighters and fishing boats throughout the day, and our trip was a very pleasant new experience, sailing in open water.

As we had lots of free time I decided to do some cooking, so I set some ribs to slow-cook for dinner, and made barbecue sauce. A batch of shortbread to complement our tea, and an apple-rhubarb pie for dessert meant a good meal that night.
We moored for the night just before sunset at a small island, and just as we entered the bay, two marlins provided a show by jumping out of the water. We enjoyed our tender ribs, warm potato salad and pie.
A late-night swim off the stern revealed an unexpected thrill, as tiny single-celled dinoflagellates (plankton) began to luminesce when we moved in the water. A splash or simple movement of an arm through the water would generate hundreds of tiny points of light in its wake, an astounding sight. In the morning Sheila and I went snorkelling, and then we sailed northwest again, heading for Langkawi.
Later that afternoon we anchored in an extremely beautiful sheltered basin between two islands, a few miles from Langkawi's main island. Eagles soared above, and the idyllic, peaceful surroundings, green forest and rocky outcrops transported me back in time to hot summer days spent on northern Ontario lakes. The next morning snorkelling was excellent, we saw hundreds of fish including a clownfish of Finding Nemo fame. Sheila saw a baby shark.
We then sailed the last few miles to the marina and resort on Rebak Island, a short ferry ride from Langkawi. Barb and I took a room in the resort and Michael and Sheila stayed on board in the marina.

Touring Penang February 19-22

Our last few days in Penang were spent touring the island, on two-lane roads, and enjoying the capital city, Georgetown.
On the 19th we took our rented car around the island, stopping first at the war museum. This private museum is housed in a British fort that was built by the British to defend Penang against naval attack. It was captured by the Japanese when the British abandoned Penang ten days after Pearl Harbour, when the Japanese attacked Malaysia and bombed Georgetown for several days. After the war it was abandoned for many years until being purchased by the current owners. The fortifications and installations are somewhat intact, but need refurbishment, and the exhibits are incomplete, although they do show the cruel treatment of the Allied prisoners kept there during the war. Somewhat disturbingly, part of this property including some bunkers from the British period, are being used for paintball games.
Many large hotels are located on the northern side of this beautiful island, and more are being built, as mass tourism inevitably leads to this type of development. There are efforts to preserve the mixed Malay, Chinese, and Indian heritage that make up the ethnic blend of the island. This ethnic mix reflects historic trading patterns. Chinese shophouses (where the family runs a shop and lives at the back and upstairs) are still the main architechtural form found downtown, although larger, more modern buildings are found on many streets.

One place we visited was the famed Cheong Fatt Tze mansion, a 38-room, 5 courtyard house of a famous Chinese businessman. Carefully restored after a century, this is now a boutique hotel that offers tours during the day.
In the same neighbourhood is a Bhuddist temple,

ornate and lovely.
One Chinese restaurant we went to several times was right near the harbour, and had a tree growing in the middle of it. The kitchen, right at the front of the restaurant, was a wild scene at meal times as the several cooks scrambled to keep up with take away meals as well as eat-in diners. One could choose dinner from the tubs of fresh fish, sea food, several kinds of cooked chicken and all manner of vegetables on display. An order made at the front on the way in was already sizzling by the time we sat down, and served just minutes later. Their fresh prawns in garlic and butter were just fabulous.

Amelie - February 20

Barb and Sheila originally found this place while looking for beaded shoes. Âmelie is a beautiful tiny restaurant in Georgetown, run by a charming couple, Hung and Yen, who welcomed us into their place and fed us wonderful food. Their exquisite fruit drinks (orange lemon grass, or longan and lime, a lime drink with fresh whole lychees)were just what we needed in the heat, and their menu was mostly Italian pasta dishes, deftly seasoned with a Malaysian flair, but remaining true to their Italian roots. As one might expect, their coffee was excellent, according to my local expert, Barb.
We got to know Yen and Hung better and invited them to

the boat for a drink. They took us out to their favourise Cantonese restaurant, in a back street that we would never have found ourselves, where we had a great meal and talked with them into the night.

Back to Georgetown February 18

We took the scenic route back to Georgetown, driving through the mountains on winding roads. The mountain scenery was spectacular, and the road sometimes breathtaking. As we descended from the heights we stopped at Kellie's Castle (or Kellie's folly) a large brick mansion that was built by William Kellie Smith, a Scottish adventurer who made a fortune in rubber and tin. He could think of no better use for the fortune he had amassed than to import bricks from India to build this massive house, complete with indoor tennis court and rooftop garden. He died of pneumonia while in Portugal, apparently buying an elevator for the house. It was never finished after his death. His wife sold the property and returned to Scotland. It

is now a local tourist attraction.
We stopped for lunch at a small local restaurant in Batu Gajah, a town not far away. It was packed with local people and we ate what they were serving, chicken and several curries served on a banana leaf. The food was delicious, but when Michael tried to leave a tip, the waiter came out of the restaurant after him, concerned that money had been left on the the table. He insisted that Michael take the money back, maybe concerned that foreigners could be so careless with their cash. The bill for four of us was around $6.00.

We got back into the car, and continued the drive back to the boat through the interesting Malaysian countryside.

All the Tea in Malaysia - February 17

February 17th broke clear and sunny, a perfect day to tour around the highlands. After a quick breakfast, we set off for the highest point on the Malay peninsula, Gunung Irau. We drove through several towns and market areas selling local crafts and vegetables, then turned off onto a steep and extremely curvy one-lane road which climbed ever higher into the mountains. We drove by the Sungai Palas Boh Tea Estate, still going higher and the road getting more precipitous and windy. We finally reached the top and then climbed a steel viewing tower where we were able to gaze down on all Malaysia, or at least the mountainous part.
After satisfying ourselves with the wonderful view (photo), we headed back to tour the Sungai Palas Boh Tea Estate. Boh Tea is the most popular brand of tea in Malaysia, they claim, cultivated since 1929. We had it for lunch at their tea room , and it is quite delicious.
They harvest their tea every three weeks by trimming (plucking) all of the new growth from the top of the tea shrubs.(photo) It is then brought into their factory where it is "withered" for 12-20 hours, to reduce the moisture content and allow some natural chemical reactions to take place. It is then rolled to crush the leaf cells and process it into smaller particles. There are three types of machines used in this process, the CTC (Cut, tear, curl) machine, the rotovane and then simple rollers.
Next comes fermentation, or more properly oxidation, another natural process that exposes the rolled leaf cells to oxygen, in order for the leaf to develop the right flavour, colour and aroma. Timing and temperature are carefully controlled at this stage. The leaf emerges a coppery colour.
The tea is finally dried, to stop the fermentation process, by passing air through it that has been heated to 120 degrees C., for 10 minutes. The tea emerges as the crisp, black, curled form known as "made tea".
It is then sorted. First, fibres and stalks are removed, then the tea is divided into four grades: Leaf (whole leaves), Broken (part leaves), Fannings (small broken grades), and Dust (smallest particles). The dust and fannings are commonly mixed and made into tea bags. The tea is then tasted, graded and aged and, of course, marketed.
There is housing on the estate where the workers live, and a school for their children (photo).
We bought several kinds of tea in the estate shop, then got back into the car to go back to Tanah Rata. That night we went to the Rosedale Diner (yes, there is a Rosedale Diner in Tanah Rata) where we had a lovely meal of prawns, lemon chicken and vegetables with fried cashews and birthday cake in celebration of my birthday.

Malaysia Overland February 16

The 16th was our day to travel to the Cameron Highlands. We arose in sweltering heat and packed quickly, taking in yesterday's laundry (which had been rained on) and closing up the boat, then heading out in our rented car. The drive south from Penang was uneventful. We crossed the bridge to the mainland (longest in Asia), then drove along a modern 4-lane divided highway in air conditioned comfort. We soon left the fetid coastal plains and started climbing into the central highlands. Agricultural land gave way to jungle, and karst hills jutted dramatically and precipitously from the earth, characteristically Asian to my western mind. These later gave way in their turn to true mountains and we drove through more jungle now and then interspersed with tea estates and vegetable plantations. Michael did yeoman service driving on the switchback roads as we climbed ever higher into the lovely coolness of the afternoon.
We arrived in Tanah Rata by 5:00 pm, and checked in to a comfortable $40 (double) per night hotel, the Hillview Inn. Dinner was at Restaurant Kumar, where Barb had claypot chicken, and I had tandoori chicken with naan. Sheila outdid us with her several curries served on a banana leaf (photo). After a few Tiger beers we returned home for an early bed.

A Visit to Glen Eagles (Not the golf course) February 12-15

Sunday morning, our first morning in Penang, was hot and sunny. At breakfast, we noticed my right lower leg was quite swollen, with a yellowish tinge. The consensus was that I should get it looked at, so Michael and Sheila quickly consulted some friends and determined that Glen Eagles Hospital was the best place to do that. Michael and I got into a taxi (teksi in Malay) and off we went. The Emergency was quite efficient, I was processed and ready to see a doctor in 20 minutes. As deep vein thrombosis was suspected because of my recent long plane trip, they wanted a specialist to examine me. It took a while for the specialist, a cardiologist, to turn up at the hospital on a Sunday. On arrival, he did an immediate ultrasound of my heart and determined there was no enlargement of the right side – a good sign. He ordered a doppler study of the veins in my right leg for the following morning, and admitted me to the hospital. It was then that I received my first medication, a needle in the stomach of blood thinners as a precaution in case the Doppler study found deep vein thrombosis.I had to go back to admitting to make a credit card payment of 2500 Ringgit ($800) on account before being taken up to my room, an experience that most Canadians are quite happy to avoid. Michael took on the responsibility of keeping our travel insurance company abreast of developments, making numerous phone calls to them on my behalf, thus relieving me of an additional burden at a stressful time, and looking out for my interests on that front. Thanks again, Michael!
Next morning’s Doppler study turned out to be completely normal, which was a great relief to all of us, especially Barb, I’m sure. That left a diagnosis of cellulitis, which required a course of strong antibiotics, administered intravenously. Such was my fate for the next three days.
The one bright spot was the food. There was a choice of Malay, Indian, Chinese or western food. A menu card was brought around each night after dinner so you could choose the next day’s fare. I had mostly fish curries with vegetables, typically Malay. Three days lying in the hospital, getting intravenous antibiotics twice per day is not my idea of a holiday, although I'm sure it's an improvement on the alternative. The staff contrived a schedule to administer them that included waking me up at 6:00 am, which did not help my disposition any. Barb visited every day, and Michael put a couple of movies on a stick so I had something to watch in the evenings. (Red Dog, an Australian comedy about a stray dog, is a great film).
Barb swore that she, Sheila and Michael were eating dry bread and water so that I wouldn't miss any of Penang's fabulous restaurants. I almost believed her except for the time she brought me cream cheese and pineapple jam on a bagel from Amelie, a local restaurant, but more on that later. Dr. Lo, my specialist, came around every day to check on my progress and finally on Wednesday February 15, declared the infection had subsided sufficiently for me to take my leave of the Glen Eagles (the hospital, not the golf course). I left the hospital, glad that I was at least sound enough for new adventures.

Our first day in Malaysia - February 11/2012

We departed Bangkok by train for the 24-hour trip to Butterworth, Malaysia. Butterworth was named for a British Governor 150 years ago. There'll always be an England, I guess.
We were hoping to enjoy a ride through the jungle, but were disappointed that the trip was mainly through cultivated land, rice paddies and small villages. Another perfectly good preconceived notion ruined. The train stopped several times, allowing hawkers to board selling fruit and other snacks, and at times whole dinners. We had bought fresh fruit at the train station, very deliberately spending most of our remaining Thai money, and so had very little left over, only enough for breakfast from the dining car. We slept in berths that the porter made up after dark, folding and reconfiguring our seats which had been ingeniously designed to convert into somewhat uncomfortable beds. Breakfast was delivered to our seats the next morning, and we ate then read until we arrived in Butterworth. We were looking forward to spending time with Sheila, Barb's sister, and Michael, her brother-in-law, who proved to be great travelling companions and admirable hosts.
They met us at the train and took us immediately by ferry to Penang, an island in the Strait of Malacca directly opposite Butterworth. We were to be guests aboard their yacht Kantala while we were in Malaysia.
The boat was moored in a marina in downtown Georgetown, main city on the island. That night we went to a simple outdoor Indian restaurant, that had delicious tandoori chicken and naan, and also a mutton biryani the was very tasty. We went back to the boat and, after a couple of drinks, went to bed looking forward to our visit.

Bangkok February 8

We awoke on February 8th somewhat groggy but eager to see the sights. The first order of the day was breakfast, so we walked several blocks seeking an all-day breakfast. We settled on a restaurant near the fabled Khao San road, only to find that their all-day breakfast finished at 2:00 pm. My meal consisted of ground pork broiled onto toast with a sauce, an acceptable if unconventional substitute. Barb's "pancake" was gluey, heavy and lukewarm.
That afternoon, we wandered a bit, the went back to the hotel pool where we swam and planned the trip for the next day.
Our hotel, Nuovo City, was owned by Moslems, so they did not sell alcohol, nor did they serve pork. However their restaurant was quite good, and I'm sure our recovery from jet lag was hastened by sticking to fruit juices, artfully combined and served. That night we had samosas, mutton biryani with mango pickle, and chicken kebab, with a delicious rice pudding for dessert.
The next day started with breakfast at the hotel, then a trip by bus and boat to the floating market. This market was made by Chinese merchants and farmers, who created all the waterways from what must have been a swamp. They use boats to sell their produce and wares, including, of course, loads of tourist goods. Some of the sales people were persistent to the point of irritation, which we also found in Cambodia, but not Malaysia.
After we left the floating market, we were taken to the site of the Bridge on the River Kwai, where thousands of Allied POWs died at forced labour building a train bridge for the Japanese invaders during WWII. The brutal treatment of these prisoners is well documented in the adjoining museum, and was made famous by the 1957 movie Bridge on the River Kwai with Alec Guiness and William Holden.
Later that afternoon we went to the famous but controversial "Tiger Temple", a Bhuddist temple that was founded in 1994 as an animal sanctuary. They began accepting tiger cubs in 1999, both cubs whose mothers had been killed by poachers and illegal "pet" tigers that had become too difficult for their owners to keep. The display of tigers and other animals was quite a thrill to see, but the institution has been accused of mistreating the tigers, and also illegally exchanging them with a breeder in Laos. It is not clear that there is an alternative that would provide better care, however. Monkks and volunteers provide all the care for the animals. The water buffalo roam freely on the grounds, and are fed squashes daily from the back of a truck.
That night we went to a blues bar, called "Ad here the 13th" featuring pictures of B. B. King, Luther Allison, Robert Johnson, and Eric Clapton. 634-5789 featured prominently in the decor, if you can remember that great tune. Old Al Kooper and Elvin Bishop CDs played in the background as we sipped our drinks, then headed back to the hotel.

And so it begins again...

Getting there isn’t half the fun, I hope.
Our great new adventure started prosaically enough on February 6 with a cab ride from Yarker to Kingston airport and then a flight to Toronto. After a short layover we embarked on a brutal 13-hour flight to Nerita (Tokyo), with no time off for good behaviour.
We flew over the trackless North, mostly tundra and frozen muskeg. About three hours into the flight we saw endless snow-covered mountains, treeless, pristine and forbidding. Between them were occasional rivers of ice that glistened in the brilliant sunshine. Later, the Bering Strait, completely clogged with ice, gave way further south to pack-ice, and the frozen coast of Kamchatka. There was a faint stirring of distant, disquieting memories of a KAL flight shot down here during the Cold War, 30 or more years ago, for encroaching on Soviet airspace. Then, over Japan, cloud rolled in, and we could see nothing until our rainy landing at Nerita.
The airport was little different than other international airports, except premium sake and exquisite Japanese baked sweets were for sale in the shops. People wore face masks against pollution, or perhaps the infectious crowds of foreigners, bringing who-knows-what diseases from exotic places like Yarker.
Our brief 2 hour stop ended too soon, with a seven-hour flight to Bankok in tiny, confining seats, a barely endurable ordeal. We stumble through customs and into a cab, exhausted and numbed, and head for our hotel. A quick and surprisingly good meal from a street cafe, of fried cashews, dry-curried chicken, tempura prawns and green mango salad, then 12 hours blessed oblivion at the hotel, helped restore two very tired travellers.