Exotic Ports of Call

Zoomer | September 2nd, 2007

What I love about cruising is the unpacking. You only do it once.

Maybe it’s an age phenomenon, but when you can hang up your clothes and arrange toiletries in the bathroom for the entire trip, there is a certain sense of being grounded, even when the “ground” is a tumultuous sea. After a few days, there is a comforting sense of familiarity. The ship becomes home, granted a luxurious one with more amenities than most. And not only are exquisitely presented meals, daily activities and nightly entertainment included in the price but our cruise line looked after details such as land tours and visas needed in some countries. Even younger travellers can agree another advantage to cruising is waking up in a new port every morning.

For those who expect to see every nook and cranny of a country, there is a downside to cruising, for that’s not what a cruise is designed to do. I had always wanted to see Vietnam and I did want to see it in depth. While our itinerary did not offer a comprehensive look at Vietnam, there were other trade-offs, such as a stop in Brunei before docking in Ho Chi Minh City and then on to Cambodia (with Angkor Wat as the highlight), Ko Samui and Bangkok. Silversea Cruises also offered several post-cruise trips to northern Thailand, Myanmar, in-depth Cambodia and Laos. Travelling to this part of the world is not only lengthy but a once-in-a-lifetime experience, so it’s a good idea to book extra time at the beginning or end of the trip to visit other regions. We arrived a day early in Singapore and booked a post-cruise visit to Laos.

Getting to the other side of the world is a long-haul proposition, and many people groaned when I mentioned the 18-hour flight. To be honest, my own anticipation was not one of eagerness, but I had a strategy. Since most of the flights to Asia are overnight, the way to fly is business class at least one way, especially going east, using air mile reward points or a bit of extra cash. We flew Cathay Pacific to Hong Kong, then to Singapore where we boarded the ship. I will never be immune to the pleasure of business class, with its big fat seats such as those offered by Cathay Pacific, with lumbar cushions and special headrest wings, stretch-out leg room and sleeping capacity. (This year, new fully flat beds, ottomans and moulded partitions have been introduced, so it will be as close to your own private bed as it can get.)

I was determined to enjoy every minute of the flight service, and after champagne and orange juice, we chose a fabulous dinner, served on china with real cutlery and accompanied by a lovely wine list. After I had read the paper and watched a first-run movie, we landed in Anchorage, Alas. for fuel and a fresh crew. I don’t remember the plane taking off because I was sound asleep, stretched out in my luxurious bed, snug as can be with a seat belt.

While an array of cocktails, wine and liqueurs is offered, it’s a good idea to limit alcohol intake in the air. Abstinence means more sleep and less jet lag. Wide-awake but peckish passengers, however, could nosh on wontons with noodle soup, barbecued pork buns and ice cream throughout the night. Breakfast, served on linen placemats, included juices, yogurt, fruit, cereal and main course options of an omelette with sun-dried tomatoes, turkey sausage and asparagus, or abalone and chicken congee, or stir-fried noodles and dim sum. I managed to watch another movie before we landed in Hong Kong. The time had gone by quickly.

Flying business class allowed us access to the lounges in the airports, much appreciated havens amid the chaos of today’s multiple airport security checks. At the Cathay Pacific lounge in Hong Kong, we relaxed with a cup of green tea and a sampling of pork buns while we waited for our flight to Singapore.

If you’re planning a trip to Southeast Asia and want to begin with a place with no culture shock, start with Singapore. It’s lush and tropical but pristine and orderly. Rules about littering in Singapore are stringent. We were told about a young woman who tossed a cigarette into the street and was ordered to do several weeks of community service cleaning up trash. The people are friendly, worldly and speak impeccable English. We unwound for a day at the Rasa Sentosa Resort, the only beach resort in the island-state. We dined outdoors, watching the waves lap the shores, enjoying squid in black bean sauce, sesame baked shrimp in a toasted rice basket, pepper crab and a whole white fish.

Historically docks are not luxurious, but boarding the Silver Whisper, our cruise ship, is definitely a smooth first-class procedure. Porters whisk away our bags, and we are gently steered through security. Once on board, we are given silver ID cards that replace our passports for the trip and ensure security when leaving and returning to the ship.

In our room with its sea-view veranda, we are welcomed by our stewardesses who ask us about any special needs and note our preferences for luxury toiletry products and for the soft drinks, wine and spirits with which they’ll stock our fridge. They go out of their way to find us Clamato juice and diet tonic. Each night, when we return from dinner, our beds are turned down, and a decadent chocolate sits on our pillows. The Silver Whisper has a passenger capacity of 382, with a 1-1 ratio of employees to guests; the staff represents countries from Russia to Argentina.

There is something magical about leaving port, watching the tugs guide the ship, feeling the waves wash against the sides, seeing the sun sink below the horizon behind the Singapore skyline. We nibble canapés of caviar on toast triangles and drink to our departure with a bottle of champagne that has been chilling in our room since our arrival.

I appreciate the vestiges of glamour still surrounding these cruises that probably originated in the late 1800s on transoceanic voyages. For our casual world, it may not suit everyone’s wardrobe to dress for dinner, but what a lovely treat (for women anyway) to slide into a silky dress and slinky shoes and float on the white-gloved arm of a waiter to a candlelit table by a window overlooking the ocean. Some nights on the Whisper were casual, but some were formal (where men wore tuxes) and some informal, which still meant making a little effort to look your best. Fortunately, my friends had loaned me some dressy ensembles that made me feel I was wearing something new and special – and which I didn’t have to purchase.

While breakfast and lunch can be à la carte dining with everything from eggs Benedict to fresh fruit yogurt smoothies to start your morning, the ship also offers buffet-style in one of the dining rooms. Even the buffets have a touch of class, with a waiter insisting on carrying your laden plate to the table. And there is always a sous-chef to make a special omelette or toss a creamy pasta dish. For days at sea, waiters are happy to take orders for burgers and fries at the pool while I turn another page in the book I have borrowed from the ship’s library.

But despite casual dress, dinners in all three restaurants are elegant affairs with four-course meals and an impressive wine list. An incorrigible foodie, I scan the menus arriving in the mailbox outside our room every morning and salivate over the selections, ruminating over my choices. The first night, I choose king scallop ravioli with shellfish sauce and basil oil from a selection of appetizers. For the intermezzo course, I order a nine-herb salad to make up for the ravioli, but from the entrees, I can’t resist the roasted beef tenderloin with vegetable bundle, gratinéed potato and oven-roasted garlic sauce. There are vegetarian and wellness choices as well as fabulous desserts. We always opt for the three-tiered tray of petits fours as a finale.

Days at sea, especially at the beginning of a cruise, offer a chance to catch up on sleep, book any shore tours not arranged ahead of time online and enjoy the ship’s facilities. The ship’s chronicle, published each day, devotes its cover page to the history and culture of the next port of call and outlines the day’s activities on board. It would be necessary to be two people to take in all the activities, which begin with a power walk at 7:30 a.m. with the fitness director, followed by various classes in Pilates, yoga and step aerobics scheduled for the day. Guests can also choose to work out at their own pace in the gym.

For less vigorous activities, there are bridge games, table tennis, lectures with an expert (in this case, a veteran traveller and author of several books on Vietnam and Cambodia) and a library that includes movies as well as books and an Internet café. For food lovers, there are classes in nutrition and vegetable carving. Afternoon tea is a tradition; there is pre-dinner music in the lounge; and after dinner, a disco DJ. There’s also gambling in the casino and dancing to a live band. Many passengers book a spa treatment for sea days, and I treat myself to a deep tissue massage – 80 minutes of luxurious bliss.

Or there is napping.

When we dock in Brunei, we are greeted by a welcoming group of brightly costumed tambourine players and are quickly whisked away by bus to see the highlights of this tiny country, a mere 47 kilometres from the equator (everyone has air conditioning). With a population of 372,000, Brunei has been a sovereign country since 1984 and open to tourism only since 1998. We pass oil rigs in the ocean on our way into port but learn Brunei is 70 per cent rainforest.

Life is very, very good in what is called the “Shell-fare” state of Brunei Darussalam. There is one per cent unemployment, gasoline is cheap at 55 cents and residents pay no income tax. All education and old-age pensions are paid for and, if hospitalization is needed, patients pay $1 Bruneian (C$0.72) while the government pays the rest. Since 1990, no alcohol is allowed, a move that has resulted in low rates of crime and violence. The capital, Bandar Seri Bergawan is dominated by the towering domes of its impressive mosques and is home to the Sultan, one of the richest men in the world who we are told, shares his wealth with Bruneians. We catch a glimpse of him driving out of his home, the largest residential palace in the world with more than 1,700 rooms.

After Brunei, we have another day at sea. The sky is overcast, and the South China Sea a little rough but not enough to cancel my golf lesson, a Pilates session in the gym and a special galley lunch where guests are invited into the ship’s kitchen to sample an array of every kind of cuisine possible from cold broiled lobster to spicy Thai shrimp and chicken, and decadent desserts. Our handsome waiter, Raphael, tells us he has worked on the ship since 1992 and met his wife, Wilma, on board. Their six-month-old baby is at home in the Philippines with family so Raphael and Wilma can make enough money to raise him. Wilma works in the bar, and she and Justin, another waiter from India we befriend, must take wine-tasting courses so they can expertly advise guests on selecting wines.

The next morning, we wake to a slower pace as the ship glides gently down the Saigon River to Ho Chi Minh City. The river is as wide as the St. Lawrence at points. It takes us about two hours to reach the city through a waterway bustling with small fishing vessels and commercial boats arriving and leaving with goods.

There are several land tours offered by Silversea for the two days we are in Ho Chi Minh City: a city highlights tour, a visit to the wartime Chu Chi Tunnels, a market tour with a chef followed by a cooking class in Vietnamese cooking and a day trip to the Mekong Delta region. We’ve chosen the next day’s tour to the Mekong Delta, so board the shuttle bus for downtown and the Rex Hotel, where we plan to walk about and do some serious shopping. We’re not as brave as some of the ship’s staff who have been here before and know exactly where they will go and what they will buy. Nicole, the spa esthetician from South Africa, tells us she has hired a moped driver to take her to a specific shop where she has seen china she is determined to buy.

While Ho Chi Minh City is actually a small province covering about 2,030 square kilometres, the urban centre is still unofficially called Saigon. The city, with its wide avenues, French architecture, largely Catholic population, lively cafés and street vendors selling crunchy baguettes, exhibits the influence of the French who conquered all of southern Vietnam in 1867 and held it until 1954. Saigon bubbles with life. Happy, friendly people hustle through street markets and buzz through the streets on their motorbikes. The population is six million, and we are told there are three million motorbikes. Not difficult to believe, as they drive six abreast around corners, their drivers often beautiful young women in their conical hats and ao dai (flowing silk blouses slit up the sides and worn over trousers); most wear white masks to cover their mouths from pollution, we assume, but a guide tells us Vietnamese women prefer to keep their skin white. There are very few traffic lights, and it seems no road rules except common sense and a snappy and determined walking pace. However, there are tourist police at crossings to escort terrified pedestrians safely to the other side when there’s a break in the motorbike onslaught.

When we’re dropped off in front of the Rex Hotel armed with a map, we are fairly sure we can find the Ben Thanh Market. A moment of disorientation on our part catches the interest of a street entrepreneur who offers to take us to the market to “get good prices.” Admittedly, we are relieved to have him guide us and, ever-polite Canadians that we are, even pay him the US$20 each he asks for at the end for his services. His fee may not have saved us much in our purchases at the market, but the orientation was worth it. With three pairs of snazzy sandals for C$50, two bags of freshly ground Vietnamese coffee (roasted in butter) for C$12, three metres of silk for C$16 and good-quality T-shirts for C$2 for my grandsons, I am a happy shopper. The experience is delightful. Not only do we deal with vendors who speak our language, but they serve us with pleasure and humour. “Do you want a purse too?” asks my sandal vendor. When I reply no, he grins unabashedly, “Why not?”

That night, all the Silversea guests are invited to a Vietnamese dinner on the terrace of the Rex Hotel, the famous hang-out of journalists during the war in Vietnam. Entertained by brightly costumed dancers and singers, we feast on an eight-course dinner artfully presented in the centre of each table. We start with Vietnamese spring rolls, followed by grapefruit salad with shrimp and pork, grilled chicken with lemongrass and chili, steamed sea bass filet with ginger and scallion, sautéed snow peas with baby corn and straw mushrooms, Vietnamese minty sour shrimp soup, sautéed Chinese noodles with eggs, lotus rice and fruits.

The next morning, we board small buses for the Mekong Delta tour. This, to me, is seeing the real earth-bound life of Vietnam. The speed limit is only 35 kilometres an hour on Hwy. 1, the main road which runs down the centre of Vietnam from Hanoi. Construction is booming in Ho Chi Minh City with new apartment buildings rising and men along the side of the highway building boulevards by hand. We skirt cavalcades of motorbikes, some bearing three members of the family, and drive through small villages with market stalls selling croissants and wide baskets of rambutan (a spiny fruit related to lychee) and pamelo (a grapefruit-like fruit), fresh fish, hanging ducks and chickens. There is no such thing as frozen food in the Mekong Delta.

The plains of the Mekong are flat, and expanses of bright green rice fields march into the distance. The Mekong produces three crops of rice a year, followed by three crops of vegetables. This is Vietnam’s breadbasket. With half the area under cultivation, it provides enough rice to feed the entire country and produces a surplus. Vietnam exports four million tons of rice a year, second in the world after Thailand.

We board longboats on a branch of the Cai Be River. (The Mekong itself originates in Tibet, flows through China, along the Laos-Thailand border and Cambodia before dividing in Vietnam into nine river mouths, hence the Vietnamese name Song Cuu Long – river of nine dragons.) Like the Saigon River on our cruise into Vietnam, this river teems with life but in a more rural mode. Families live in houseboats decorated with bougainvillea and orchids, with smoke from their cooking stoves wafting from chimneys, and laundry strung on clotheslines. A mother and son steer a longboat piled high with juicy red rambutan past us, and on a dock at the back of a riverside home, a young boy washes a live chicken, which flutters in indignation. The river’s edges are lined with farm houses with gardens of fruit and flowers grown to sell in the floating markets in the Mekong river tributaries and man-made canals. We dock at a village to watch young women make long ribbons of coconut candy and at another farmhouse where a young man pops rice in a black cast iron pot, then mixes it with syrup to make rice candy. We lunch at an outdoor restaurant where I’m again amazed by the presentation of food in Asian countries. Lunch begins with a whole “deep-fried elephant’s ear fish,” named for the shape. Someone says it’s really tilapia, but it is beautifully suspended on a platter; the waitress uses a spoon and fork to serve portions we eat with chopsticks.

There are still more exciting countries to see on this trip but as we sail back down the Saigon that night and watch the sun set from our veranda, I promise to come back for more of Vietnam.

After a day sailing around the tip of Cambodia, we dock in Sihanoukville. A short bus ride takes us through pastoral villages and open-air markets, past buffalo grazing in fields, past a school where girls in white blouses, navy skirts and bare feet chase each other around the yard, to a tiny immaculate airport for the flight to Siem Reap where we will board another bus for Angkor Wat. Our gentle guide smiles through bright white teeth and sings us a welcome song before giving us a comprehensive crash course in the historic, cultural and social structure of Cambodia. I realize how little attention I paid in the late 1970s to the wartime atrocities in both Cambodia and Vietnam. His account of being a child when children were conscripted – some even ordered to kill their parents during the civil war and Pol Pot regime – leaves a thoughtful silence in the bus.

We visit both Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom. Angkor Wat, a UNESCO World Heritage site and the largest religious monument ever built, took 385,000 workers and 40,000 elephants 37 years to build. The 760 metres of intricate bas-relief depicting battle scenes and daily life on the outer walls defy description.

Angkor Thom, built in the late 12th century was constructed as a city and covers 3.5 square miles. The Angkor region where, more than a millennium ago close to one million people lived in what was then the world’s largest settlement, is considered Asia’s most important attraction.

Outside the moat surrounding Angkor Wat, a little girl approaches me with an armful of hand-woven bracelets urging me to buy them for $1. “You are from Canada,” she notes. “Your capital is Ottawa.” Of course, I cannot resist.

When a young boy about 12 then arrives with an armful of similar bracelets and I explain I have already bought some, he smiles widely and says, “Not fair. You buy from girls, not boys.” I now have a double lot of bracelets. They have learned Marketing 101 but retain their irresistible Asian courtesy and charm. As we leave, I hear the little girl approach an American couple. “California?” she says. “Sacramento!”

On our way back to the airport, we pass through Siem Reap, a beautiful city of 150,000, with elegant five-star hotels landscaped with enormous profusions of tropical bushes; while the luxurious Grand Hotel costs US$1,000 a night, most others, equally impressive, can be booked for US$150. They’re ready for tourism. And dutiful traveller that I am, I will come back here too.

We sail across the Gulf of Thailand to anchor off the island of Ko Samui, the largest of a group of almost 100 tropical islands and are taken ashore by tender for an introductory tour. Our guide hands us all blue ribbons to pin on our chests because, she says with a smile, “You all look alike to me.”

With its pristine white sand beaches and lush coconut groves, the island is especially appealing for snowbirds and retirees. Real estate sales are booming and prices still reasonable, with resorts and bungalows charging US$40 a night, less for long stays. A two-bedroom house in the prime tourist area with a garden and garage sells for US$25-30,000, but places on the ocean will cost five to 10 times more. Motorbikes, a popular mode of travel, can be purchased for about $1,000.

For our last night, we have chosen a post-cruise stay at the stunning Peninsula Hotel in Bangkok, which has one of the most romantic settings in the world. Situated on the Chao Phraya River, the view from our room is a spectacular vista of the city as river longboats, cruise boats and shuttles glide past, lit up with fairy lights in the night.

The Peninsula has a new spa, a state of the art, holistic retreat with the best of international treatments but also with the inimitable, blissful tranquility of the Thai culture. I indulge in a Time Treatment, which includes an advanced facial and full body massage with hot rocks and names such as Shirodhara and Ayurvedic, which must mean the full strength of the tiny Thai therapist on every muscle of my body. I am convinced she is resting her knees on the backs of my thighs as she kneads my upper back. What a finale, a memento of Asian hospitality – I am calm, relaxed, rejuvenated and smiling as serenely as the Thais.

CONNECT
<!— All Asia Pass
Cathay Pacific Airways offers an All Asia Pass. For $1,599 economy fare, the pass includes flights from Toronto or Vancouver to Hong Kong with 21 consecutive days of travel to 23 additional cities in Asia. www.cathaypacific.com

Cruise itineraries
Go to www.silverseacruises.com or call CARP Travel toll-free at 1-888-446-5212 or go to www.carptravel.com

Rasa Sentosa Resort, Singapore
www.shangri-la.com

Peninsula Hotel, Bangkok
www.peninsula.com or call 011 800 2828 3888

Photography: Bonnie Baker Cowan

From the September 2007 issue of CARP magazine