Why Do We Travel?

Why do we travel?

We travel as an expression of passion for the world.
We travel to ardently pursue all we hope to discover.
We travel to be surprised, so that we don’t stop questioning.
We travel to exchange ideas, beliefs and values.
We travel to cultivate compassion, to stretch our hearts and expand our souls.
We travel to see someone smile and smile back at them.

From an email sent by Asian Transpacific Journeys

This is actually a pretty good statement of why we do travel. It’s amazing learning firsthand about other cultures and ideologies and places in the world. If you travel with an open mind and an open heart, you come away with an understanding of the world that you didn’t have when you left, and which you probably wouldn’t get without traveling.  You learn about other people and cultures, firsthand and without the filter of a writer, or the media, or anyone else who might have some reason to slant their story or shade the truth.

Is it worth it?  Definitely!

Somewhere we picked up the phrase that, “Traveling is an enriching experience, particularly when viewed with the benefit of hindsight.” Can’t remember where we read that or we’d credit them, but it makes a lot of sense. Sometimes, in the midst of the experience, you get a little bit homesick.

Your tummy hurts from strange food. Your gadgets won’t work because the systems are different, and they don’t fit quite right. Your drink doesn’t come with ice even when you ask for it, and ketchup is rationed like plutonium for some reason while chili is sprinkled around like talcum on a baby’s butt. There are times when you would gladly sell a child for a cheeseburger and fries.

Then something happens. You connect with a random person, you pick up a bit of information that suddenly makes a puzzle in your mind go together because you now recognize not only what people in other cultures do, but why they do it, or you make a new friend. It’s easier to keep those friends now because of the internet. People all over the world are on Facebook, and the phrase, “I’ll Friend you,” means that you can continue to learn and grow with these people all over the world, even if you never have a chance to leave your home to meet them in person again.

In traveling, you learn to appreciate the idiosyncracies of others, and hope that they learn that those of us on the other side of the world aren’t necessarily scary; that we want the same things that they do, and the two desires aren’t always incompatible. We aren't necessarily our government, nor are we the "official" positions that come out of the government.  Those we meet are sometimes relieved to find out that "real" people in America do not always agree with the actions of the government, just as they do not always agree with their own governments.  We usually have more in common than we do not.

We also travel when others cannot. We are blessed in that regard, and fully appreciate that it’s not only a gift, but also an obligation. That’s one of the reasons that we blog our trips. Maybe by sharing what we learn, we will also help someone else understand a different culture, or religion, or government, or may inspire them to get a passport and travel themselves.  Although it's sometimes a hassle to travel, it's really not scary or intimidating.  The hardest thing about it is deciding where to go and getting the suitcase out and ready.  After that, things are going to go they way they are intended, regardless of our plans.

The only regret about travel is that it’s never done. Just as you think you’ve fully explored somewhere, found every historical location, eaten in all the restaurants you wanted, when you’re packing up to go someone will say, “Have you been here,” or “Have you tried this,” and you realize that it’s not over, but you’re out of time – you have to return to your own life.

There are so many places to see and go, it’s hard to return to one that you’ve already visited. Time on this planet is limited, and there are simply too many places to see to waste even a single trip.

We’ve learned a lot on this trip, our first to Asian countries. There is a culture of “niceness” here that you don’t find many places. It’s genuine, too. Nobody could fake it that long.

There’s more patience here than you see in the US. People wait for crossing signals, and cars wait for pedestrians without honking. Food is served in real cups and dishes, and the assumption is that you’ll sit and enjoy your food, not that you’ll grab it in a bag and take it with you.  The fact that we didn't speak the same language as them was irrelevant -- sign language, gestures and trying was what was important, not vocabulary.  We are fortunate, however, that much of the world speaks English and do our children a great disservice by not insisting that they master a foreign language prior to graduation from high school -- not just have exposure, but be sufficiently able to converse and get by in at least one other language so that they can go out into the world.

Western influence is everywhere.  Singapore feels very much like New York City in that it's full of tall buildings and lots of places to eat.  Hawkers courts -- the open air restaurants -- are a bit of a novelty, but not so much that you can't get used to them in fairly short order.

The unexpected gem that we found - and wished we had allowed more time to explore - was Siam Reap, Cambodia.  It is what we imagine Thailand was 30 years ago -- early in development, but still very much a local environment sufficiently pristine to be fresh and exciting.

Our trip is over.  In a few days, the jet lag will go away, days and nights will become more ordered and structured and life as we knew it before will resume.    Thanks to all of you who've followed along with us and offered encouragement and comments.  We look forward to sharing with you again on our next trip.

Oh wait.....one more thing....life will continue to pass minute by minute......but we are forever changed by this experience....changed in good ways.

Jetlag and Re-entry into the Real World

Anyone who thinks that jet lag isn’t real hasn’t traveled to the other side of the world. Despite sleeping on the plane, changing eating schedules and doing all those things that you’re supposed to so that you can be able to immediately jump back into your routine, it’s still a very real condition.

It feels a lot like the disorientation that you get when you’ve been sick and your days and nights get all turned around.

We managed to get the luggage upstairs, opened and the laundry sorted. After starting it we decided to “rest our eyes” for just a few minutes, then work on groceries and things.

That was at 10:00 in the morning. At 4:00 in the afternoon, we emerged again, still largely unfunctional. Enough to move the laundry across and go buy essentials at the grocery store – coffee, primarily – but still not able to get our brains together enough to sort the mail or anything like that.

Fortunately, we had the common sense to stop the newspapers while gone; there’s no feeling that they need to be read to get “caught up” with the local news. Anything that happened a month ago is stale, and anyhow, we were able to do quick updates online to follow the big things.

Surprisingly enough, bedtime came along about like normal – 10ish, and we both managed to sleep until about 4:30 in the morning.

Things are getting back to normal.

Return Status

Coming home is always a bit bittersweet. We’ve figured out, after many years of traveling, that just over 2 weeks is our ideal time to travel. It’s long enough to relax, but short enough that we don’t start getting tired. That can be extended if we haven’t packed up every available minute with tours and activities.

There’s something to be said for starting slow, enjoying your coffee and THEN attacking the day.

The plane was identical to the one we came out on – about 100 seats, all business class. It’s by far the nicest plane and seats we’ve ever had, but if you can imagine being strapped into your Lazy Boy for about 14 hours, being allowed up only to go to the bathroom, you’ve got a pretty good idea of what it feels like.

Unlike the trip over, we had an abundance of lunch / dinners rather than breakfast so we’re all averaged out again. We got on the plane about 4:00 p.m. on Friday (local time – that would have been 3:00 a.m. Hickory time). Where the trip over was 17 hours, 40 minutes, this one was just over 14 hours, aided by a 200 mph jet stream pushing us the right direction.

So you get on the plane, get settled into your “nest”, and a meal comes – again, we’d pre-ordered and they had it down right (as if anyone could remember what they ordered for dinner 2 months ago!). Anyhow, one had a steak, one chicken, and we swapped halvsies.

The weird thing about coming back from Southeast Asia, though, is that you’re in the daylight all the time. They accommodate this by pulling all the blinds so after dinner most everyone drops off to sleep. Our bodies think it’s evening by them, so when it gets dark it’s not hard to believe it.

After a few hours, people start to wake up and eventually they turn the lights on a little at a time, so you aren’t jarred awake, and another meal comes – not breakfast, but another lunch / supper. Through the bizarre dimension of time travel that you’ve just experienced, we’re landing in Los Angeles at 2:00ish p.m. on Friday afternoon – 2 hours before we took off!

Our decision to come back through LAX was confirmed as a good one given the snowstorm that the northeast is experienced. One of our group went back through Frankfurt, was delayed there because of mechanical problems and then got delayed in NY, just a few hours from home. Weather this time of year is too volatile to risk tight connections and northern airports.

That was the reason we found ourselves with a 6+ hour layover in Los Angeles. There was internet, CNN and things to read, though, so the time passed relatively fast.

Doing the last leg of our trip on US Air is a real letdown after Singapore. Our business class seats converted to 1st class, but US Air has so stripped down those planes that it’s not a big step up from coach – the seats are like lawn chairs strapped in the plane, there’s still no entertainment or meal service (OK, a bag of chips – but that’s no more a “meal” than “ketchup” is a vegetable!).

A couple in the row in front of us and across the aisle had a baby – maybe 6 months old, and they were on the last leg of a 30 hour journey from China to bring her home. We did get to see 4 very proud grandparents meet them at the luggage claim and you couldn’t help but smile at their joy.

The last leg of our journey was on the Hickory Hop. For those of you who are local to Hickory (or who visit here), we can’t say enough good stuff about this service. Pickup and drop-off from the Hickory airport, it’s cheaper than driving your own car and parking it in Charlotte, plus you don’t have to get your brain together enough to drive after a long trip back – our job was to climb onto the van and ride back.

We hit the front door just before 8:00 in the morning.

Wat Arun Photos

http://www.flickr.com/photos/45676962@N05/sets/72157623370051730/

Click on the above link...then click on Slideshow to see the photos in a slideshow format.

We are home

Arrived home in Hickory this morning right on time thanks to the Hickory Hop. 

We need a little rest time...then have a few more thoughts to share about our trip.  We'll do a final post probably tomorrow.

If you have any feedback on the blog, i.e., what you liked or didn't like, we'd appreciate you posting a comment or you can email your comments to bullsdads@gmail.com.

Landed in Los Angeles

Our trip across the pond was an uneventful 14 hour flight.  We leave LA at 10:45 pm bound for Charlotte.  Home is within site now.

Late Video -- Buddhist Temple # 3 (Singapore)

Late Video Entry -- EB Eats Something in Little India

Friday, February 5, 2010

While it's still Thursday in the USA, it's already Friday here in Singapore.  We are up and moving -- it's around 7:30 am.  We begin our trek home this afternoon.  Leave the hotel at noon for a 4:00ish flight.  We'll be on the flight from Singapore to Los Angeles for approximately 18 hours.  Then we have a layover in California of 5 or 6 hours.  We will arrive back in Charlotte on Saturday morning at 6 am.

We'll do a final post to this blog once we are home.  We have a few more things to say about what this experience has meant to us.

The Moslem Cemetery

No trip to a foreign country would be complete without a trip to a cemetery. Not sure why death is so fascinating, but it is. In this case, we walked to another Mosque, this one with tons of mosaic tile around it, primarily in shades of blue.

This was adjacent to what was the Royal Palace, before the Prince messed things up. That building, incidentally, is now the Malay Historical Museum. It reverted to the government in the early 1970’s and the royalty remaining there were relocated. Turns out they’d been lousy tenants, hadn’t kept the place up and there were too many of them, anyhow.

The Palace, however, lies between two Mosques and the second one had a cemetery associated with it. Actually, there are two cemeteries, side by side. The one we saw the most, however, lies on government land and may well be relocated to allow the property to be developed in the future.

Islam requires burial in the ground, preferably within 24 hours of the time of death. 12 is even better. There is no casket or anything – just a simple shroud is used. The headstones have no names on them, either. Some are flat with the edges carved up, while others are round like a trophy or bowling pin. If it’s flat, the occupant of the grave is female and if it’s round, they’re male. Each grave has both a head and a foot marker, and the head is oriented toward Mecca.

They put cloths on the markers as a decoration. If the cloth is yellow, it means that the person buried there is royalty. If there’s a shed or covering over the grave, it means they were a very holy person.

Next to the “Royal” cemetery was another cemetery, which by the look of it was very, very old and very, very near capacity. It was a private cemetery originally, owned by an Arabic family. They, however, have deeded the land to the Mosque, which is the only way under Singaporean law to protect it from eminent domain – Mosque land can’t be condemned and taken by the state, although all other land can. Land owned by other religious organizations wasn’t discussed.

There is one “public” cemetery in the country, used for those who want in-ground burial. It’s owned by the government, so isn’t divided by religion. If you buy and use a plot there, it’s yours for 15 years – kind of how they do in New Orleans. After that time, the body is removed elsewhere.

This was the end of the tour. It was hot. It was 12:30, and we’d been walking almost nonstop for 3 hours, so Larry was ready for a drink and some lunch after wandering around the neighborhood for a bit.

Then, of course, the subway stop had moved somehow during that time, and he had to find it again!

The Hajj Shop

After leaving the Mosque, we went to the Hajj Shop.

This is another shop that sells religious goods primarily to Muslims, but it has something added – they create perfume.

Muslims are prohibited from drinking or using alcohol in anything (even perfume). That means that they can’t go to the department store to buy perfume – it’s primarily alcohol. Instead, they go to these perfume shops where you can either have a signature fragrance made or you can pick from something that’s out there that they have duplicated. These are based in mineral oil and therefore comply with Islamic requirements.

They also sell prayer caps, rugs, prayer beads and lots of other stuff. For a tiny shop, it was fascinating that they had so much stuff in there and were happy to explain all about it to us.

The Sultan Mosque

There is a huge mosque in this neighborhood. The first one, built by the Prince, was finished in 1824. It was a wooden structure, with strong Indian influences in the architecture. It lasted about 100 years, until 1924 when the current structure was built. This one is concrete (Raffles had decreed that everything had to be built out of concrete when he saw the wooden houses being built on stilts – the man was a heck of a City Planner!).

This Mosque looks much like what we in the west think of – onion-shaped tops, towers (minarets), arabic writing and lots of color. It’s a beautiful structure and was largely funded by Arab philanthropists, who did a lot of things like that – schools, hospitals, etc.

When it was being constructed, the local community wanted to have some input and help, but being the bottom of Singapore society, they had no money for the most part. What they did, though, was save bottles.

Soy sauce bottles, apparently, which had a deposit on them like coke bottles used to have. They saved the bottles up to get money to help build the Mosque. This so impressed the architect, that there is a band of bottles that make up the brown belt between the body of the building and the primary dome.

From small efforts come great things.

The Mosque, like most other religious buildings in Asia, asks that you wear sleeves and long pants, and that you remove your shoes when you come in. Also, non-Muslims were restricted to the back of the sanctuary while we toured. It was an easy concept – “Stay off the carpet.” It wasn’t any more restrictive, though, than any other church.

Our guide is a practicing Muslim, so she offered to answer any questions we might have had. It’s probably a sad comment that most of us didn’t know enough about the faith to ask any questions.

The services are gender-separated. In this particular Mosque, women have a balcony upstairs and there’s a separate, curtained-off area for those who can’t make the climb – elderly, infirm, new mothers.

Although there is a call to prayer 5 times a day (and it’s offered 7x in this particular congregation), the general practice is to go twice.

Friday at noon is “Church”, and is a time of obligation.

Everyone covers their head during the service, and faces the curved part of the church (which is usually at the front), as this is oriented toward Mecca.

There are five Tenets of Islam:

1. Profession of Faith
2. Prayer
3. Fasting
4. Almsgiving and Charity Work
5. Pilgrimage to Mecca

In the Mosque, there are no statues or figurines. If there is decoration, it is either something from Nature or calligraphy, usually in Arabic. The theory behind this is that nobody knows what God looks like, so why should we risk getting it wrong?

Singapore History Continued

After a while, the Prince starts to thinkin’ about how he might get a bit more out of the British. He’d gotten a pretty good deal – 50% of the take on the spice business, $5K a year Spanish and the ability to live wherever he wanted on the island – he chose to move into Kampong Glam, which happened to be the Malay neighborhood. In the typical British style of divide and conquer, they’d created planned neighborhoods for Chinese, Indian Malaysian, European and the Financial District.

Contemporary reports say that the Prince was packin’ on the pounds, probably due to rich food and easy living. Anyhow, by now (about 1824), Raffles term had ended and the next guy, John Crawford, was in charge. He didn’t really get along with the Prince or care for him all that much. Word has it that the Prince wasn’t fallin’ all over himself to dote on Crawford, either.

Anyhow, the Prince wanted a raise in his allowance, and Crawford not only didn’t give it to him, he started stalling the payments he was supposed to be getting. To keep up appearances, the Prince went to the moneylenders and borrowed.

Anyone who’s ever gotten on the Credit Card ferris wheel knows how hard it is to get that boil lanced!

Eventually, he was behind on his payments and they were threatening to take him to Court. To get bailed out, Crawford made him sign over Singapore to the British forever. He still got some perks and an allowance, but he should have seen that his days were numbered.

This is the fountain in front of the Palace, which is now the museum. 

The Accessory Shop

After we went to the Muslim Shop we went next door to another family owned business, which generally sold “accessories”. We don’t know what else to call it – knick knacky stuff you put around the house, as well as some clothing and other things that you might need. It, too, was a family business, with Dad minding the front of the store, most specifically the sidewalk sale, and his daughter working inside. Unfortunately, the brochure for their business got lost somewhere – it’s probably a fine out there waiting to happen. Can’t give you their name, but you can’t miss it – it’s right next door to Ghariwala, there on Bussorah Street!

If the notes taken can be trusted, it was called Milo Curios. Walking and writing, though, is something of an iffy proposition at times. Besides, how many Ghariwala’s can there be on Bussorah Street? It’s not like it’s Wal Mart or Starbucks!!

Aside from showing us a number of things that a typical Muslim home might have, they showed us the nifty daggers that are a traditional part of Malay culture. One of these is awarded to a child (both male and female) at puberty, and it becomes a part of their personality. Indeed, the dad goes to the dagger maker, tells about their kid and what they hope for them, and has it specially made.

It is not something that you never lose or sell or anything. If it’s time to get married and the groom is missing – the dagger can be put on the chair and stand in as a proxy for him. Poof! He’s married, like it or not!

Once again we learned about chewing a betel leaf and spitting. This now has crossed every cultural community in Singapore, and yet we have not seen anyone actually doing it.

The last thing we learned about were Malaysian Sarongs. Instead of being like those you get at the beach, these are a loop – you step into them, pleat them up and roll them down – the darned things actually STAY ON. Being a tourist event, the guide dressed the couple up to show us how they worked.

The Muslim Shop - C.P. Gharwala

One of the first stops we made on the tour was at a shop that supplies religious articles (and other things) to the Musljm community. This shop was started by our host’s grandfather, and has been a family owned business for over 75 years.

If you don’t know anything about this religion to begin with, it’s all pretty fascinating.

The first thing we saw was a prayer rug. Prayers happen 5 times a day, and you’re supposed to face Mecca when you pray. How do you figure that out, though, if you’re in, say Burke County?

There are two possibilities. First, you can guess. That’s not very accurate, though. You can also look at the little sticker in the drawer with the Bible and The Teachings of Buddha in your hotel room – wait, that’s not likely to work, either.

Nope – the best way – they sell a compass just for that. There’s the freestanding one that’s about the size of a saucer, and you just coordinate where you are and it’ll point the way, or there’s one made right into the rug for you.

Apparently the rugs are intended to be travelled with.

Every Muslim is expected to make a Hajj, or Pilgrimage, to Mecca at least once in their life. Once they have done this, the head covering (a prayer or skullcap for men, and a scarf for women) will be a different color than those who have not.

We were given a short course on the Hajj by the shop owner, who in an unusual twist is not Muslim but is, in fact, Hindu. You got to love the diversity in this culture – they all seem to respect and appreciate the fact that they need to get along and deal with each other’s little quirks. There’s no big controversy here over whether you’re a sprinkler or a dunker – it seems to be more of a “cafeteria plan”, where you take what works for you, let the other guy do the same and go on about your business.

They had all kinds of other things as well. If you go on a Hajj, you wear a specific garment – white, kind of like a terrycloth robe, very utilitarian. Why? To remind us all that in God’s eyes we are equal, and there’s therefore no class structure or better clothes or anything while on the pilgrimage.

Didn't get to take any photos in the shop -- it was very tiny and crowded, but right across the street, this little number was up for sale.  Our guide said in this neighborhood, it'd go for $1 to $1.5M US; if the same building were in Chinatown, it'd easily hit $3 Milliion.

Anybody need a vacation place?

Kampong Glam

Kampong Glam is the name of “Little Malaysia” in Singapore.

Malaysia is different culturally for a couple of reasons. First, it comes from a different background than the others. These were the people who were here to begin with, the natives that were displaced by the various colonists.

They originally belonged to a confederation of islands that were called Johon, which was ruled by a sultan. Things went along pretty well until the Sultan died. He had 2 sons, the older who was a "lie-about" and the younger who was pretty ambitious. When dad died, the older guy was off on a trip so the younger jumped at his chance for power.

The older brother was OK with this – he got his own little island and an allowance, so he didn’t raise much of a fuss. The little brother then entered into a contract with the Dutch to give them a monopoly over the spice trade that came out of there. They offered military support in exchange for this.

As might be imagined, this annoyed the Brits to no end. They then sent Sir Raffles (you’ve heard his name before) who knew some of the history and the interpersonal relationships going on.

He went to the older brother, brought him back to the capital and helped install him as the new ruler.

This started a “letter war” between the Dutch and the British, which was a series of very formal, very strongly worded diatribes against each other. After all, nobody gets in a snit better than the British.

The problem – they were allies in Europe because they were fighting Napoleon at the time, and nobody really wanted to waste any energy or resources on a war over this tiny island. As a result, they resolved the matter with the Anglo-Dutch Treaty of 1824. Essentially, they divided the country as it was then in half, with the British getting everything above Singapore and the Dutch getting all the land below.

Nobody seems to have taken what the natives wanted into account, although they were still kept around as figure-heads.

Incidentally, there is one sky-rise type building here -- it's an art deco thing designed by an American. Talk about looking out of context with the neighborhood!

The Malaysian Sector

Today is the last full day of our trip before we board the airplane to return. Eddie’s got to go off to work but Larry managed to squeeze in one more walking tour before things were done.

Yesterday’s tour of Little India was so good that he opted for today’s trip to the Malaysian district. Talk about knowing absolutely nothing about the culture!

This group was much smaller than yesterday’s – 6 Americans (1 who used to live in Charlotte, of all places!), 1 Australian kid, a guy he thinks was from Germany and a lady who lives here, originally from Germany, with her 18 month old, Sophie.

As you might imagine, Sophie got bored before the rest of us. They bugged out of the trip early.

Our guide was Geraldine, who was from the same company as yesterday. What a great tour company they are! Can’t recommend them highly enough.

The interesting thing about this tour was that it also took in some of the pre-history of Singapore. At least, the pre-history before Mr. Raffles came and got the place all Anglo-fied.

To get to this neighborhood, Larry had to take not one but two subways. He’d learned from yesterday not to listen, or even ask, the people at the front desk. They seem to enjoy giving you directions through outer Mongolia to get to wherever it is your going. Instead, rely on the subway map – they’re color coded and easy to read.

So it was the purple line to an interchange, then an orange line out to where we were going – "Bugis Stop."

Law Enforcement in Singapore

Singapore has gotten a bad rap with regard to their many laws and fines. The media in the west, especially, has chosen to play up the incident of the kid getting caned several years ago and portray Singapore as a backwards country with barbaric tendencies.

Caning is used in conjunction with a prison sentence. It’s not administered in public, but in a private location in the prison with only official witnesses and medical personnel there. The prisoner is certified medically fit to receive the caning before it is administered, and if the doctor decides that he is not, the prison sentence is simply increased. He’s given medical treatment afterwards.

Let’s look at the particular case that hit the news in the US a few years ago (1994, to be exact). The kid, who was named Michael Fay, was caught spraying graffiti on BMW’s. He was sentenced to 6 strokes, American diplomats got involved and it was reduced to 4.

Incidentally, he was supposedly caught doing the same thing after he returned to the US.  That doesn’t say a lot about the punishment stopping recidivism, but it does about the kid’s character.

The reality is, Singapore IS a city of fines. They’re pretty strict about enforcement for spitting, littering, food on subways, jaywalking and things like that.

Mohan, who was our guide on Sunday, told us of his own experience – he threw a cigarette butt toward the can, but didn’t quite hit it and didn’t pick it up. As he was leaving, a plainclothes enforcement officer came to him and gave him a ticket ($150). You have to come in person, which would hurt a lot of people more than the fine and watch a 15 minute video about littering.

In a bit of irony, across the bottom of your receipt it says, “Thank You, Come Again.”

The fine is not too far off of the penalties for littering in the US, although our enforcement is much more lax.

If you’re convicted of a second offense, you have to go to the City Offices, pay a larger fine and when you arrive you will go through “training”, and will receive a broom, a vest, and will be assigned an area to clean. It can take as long or as little time as you want, but you don’t leave until it’s cleaned up and you bring the trash to the supervisor to show him.

That doesn’t sound all that barbaric.

Singapore still has the death penalty. It’s a potential offense for possession of firearms (many of the nurses here have never seen a gunshot or stabbing wound in their emergency department), murder or trafficking drugs.

That may be a bit barbaric, but the US has no room to criticize in that regard.

Technical Difficulties

The hotel here has no wireless connection.  They also limit the amount of bandwidth you can use, and they kind of arbitrarily shut you off when they think you've had enough.

As a result, over the last 3 or 4 days we've gotten videos ALMOST uploaded a dozen or more times, only to have the system crash.  Sometimes it even looks like they're there when they're not.

As soon as we can get to a decent connection, we'll try to remedy the situation.

Larry Gets His Fortune Told

Fortune Tellers used to be a big part of the culture, both in Chinese and Indian communities. That’s not so true any more, and it is a dying occupation. Little India had 4 fortune tellers until a couple of years ago, when two of them disappeared. Now there are just two elderly individuals left.

Our group met up with one outside the “wet market” we’d just toured. His method of divination was different than any we’d ever seen.

He used a parrot.

The way it worked, there were a bunch of little folders, slightly larger than a playing card. Inside the folder was a picture of a diety from Hindu folklore and a horoscope / fortune.

Our guide told the old man my name. (He didn’t speak English, although I bet we could have gotten this concept across). He then told the bird my name. Birds, who sit on the shoulder of God and are presumed to have his ear, are auspicious little critters.

Anyone who’s ever had one knows that if it is sitting on your shoulder and choses to speak, you WILL pay attention, whether you like to or not.

Anyhow, she tells the man my name, he tells the bird, the bird consults with God and then comes out of his cage and picks the appropriate fortune, after which he returns to the cage.



There wasn’t time to get it all down. The gist was that in the future there’ll be a long life, lots of friends, a solid family and wealth. The deity who’s picture was with the fortune is represented by the Temple in India that is second in wealth only to the Vatican.

That ain’t a bad omen, if you think about it.

The Other Hindu Temple

This tour went through a different Hindu Temple, one that isn’t closed for renovations. They’re not picky about short pants or sleeveless shirts, but you still have to take your shoes off.

There was a 2 piece ensemble playing when we got there, but they didn’t seem to know any top 40 hits. The Temple closes at 12:15, and we were right under the wire to get in before the doors closed; thus, we got the audio with the musical background. Savita gave it her best shot, though, and we hit the high points.

Hindu Temples seem to be very colorful. While we won’t go into “Hindu for Dummies” here, the philosophy of this religion is really pretty simple once you boil it down.

There’s only one God. That God is a concept, rather than an entity. It’s the “oneness” of the universe and everything in it.

Their God, however, has many different forms to get the job done. Primarily, there are three – One is the creator, one the protector and one the destroyer. They have different facets, which have been represented through a lot of different statues to tell the stories. Hence, we see a lot of different statues in the temples.

If a person did a little study, I think it would all make sense. Coming from a vacuum, though, it was pretty hard to take in.

While we were in the Temple, the clergy came out and distributed some food to the people there, plus it seems like a wedding happened. The guide asked a young lady if she just got married and she said that she did. We never really saw what could be identified as a ceremony as we’d think of it, though.

By this time, we’d worn out our welcome and the clergy were ready for their break, so they opened the doors and made it clear we should get our shoes and leave.

The Indian History Museum

We got several facts at the Indian History Museum that were surprising. Remember that Singapore was a British colony for a long period of time – well, for most of that, Singapore was just a subdivision of India. Their laws come from the Indian Penal Code. They were ruled from India.

What we didn’t know, though, was that it was a penal colony, much like Australia. You mess up, your ass got shipped off to Singapore.

Some of ‘em figured out this wasn’t so bad. They tended to be cattlemen and stayed on.

There’s still some unofficial discrimination in Singapore that we found a little surprising. In schools, although English is the primary language, kids are taught their “ethnic” language as a second. Thus, Chinese kids learn Mandarin, etc. They aren’t allowed to change, though.

Indian parents can’t say that they want their kids to learn Mandarin. Why is this important? Because it’s still legal to say “Mandarin Speaking Only” when you open up some job positions. Thus, the government (which, remember has a population of 74% Chinese) continues to institutionalize the discrimination that exists.

Indian Wedding Ceremony

We learned a little about the Indian Wedding Ceremony, that can take 1 to 3 weeks.

Let’s pause and contemplate that for a moment. How many of us would want to put up with the absolute hell of a wedding not just for a couple of days or a weekend, but for THREE WEEKS?? It’s no wonder that weddings used to be arranged. Lots of people would have to be dragged to that kicking and screaming, not the least of which is the father of the bride!

The day before the wedding, the women have a party to get henna tattoos. The speed with which the woman showed us how to do them was remarkable – I didn’t have time to get the video camera turned on, even. 2 minutes, tops, and she had these things done.

Henna is a leaf of some type that is dried, crushed, and then mixed with olive oil and lemon juice. It “tattoos” by staining the skin, kinda how that red popsicle goes after a 2 year old. If you leave it on several hours, the tattoo gets darker and lasts a couple of weeks. Of course, if you touch ANYTHING with the henna before it dries, it’s all over your clothes.

Anyhow, at the party, this is when the women explain the facts of life to the bride to be.

Traditionally, the groom begins at the woman’s hands and looks at her tattoos, searching for his name hidden in the pattern somewhere. One would suppose that it’s not put right there on her wrist!

One of the later shops was a Sari shop, where we were shown how a woman puts it on. It’s really quite involved and takes a certain amount of faith that it will stay put, since there are no pins or buttons or anything. It’s just wrapped and tucked.

The shop we went to was the Cottage Emporium, which offers all handmade goods and is a chain from India. We also found out that it’s the largest employer in India, creating 23 million jobs.

While the prices are probably good for the quality of merchandise offered, we didn’t know anyone who needs 7 yards of silk to wrap around them.

Little India, 2nd Time Around

Sometimes, once is not enough. Sometimes you just got to get out of the hotel room even if you’ve seen things before. Eddie went off to his project again on Wednesday, and Larry caught a walking tour he’d seen a brochure about.

Called “Dhobis, Saris & a Spot of Curry”, this was a walking tour of Little India. Even though we’d been there before, it looked as though this might be something different and add a new perspective to things.

Wow. www.singaporewalks.com. What a great tour.

There were 16 in our group, so we were a bit unruly at times – only one other American, a group of Scotts, a few from Australia and a couple from Switzerland who were visiting their daughter.

You get there (from our hotel) by taking the MRT (read – Subway). At $1.10, it took all of 8 minutes to get there and was wonderfully air conditioned.

Incidentally, Singapore’s subway is a little different – the cards used as tickets are heavier than those you normally see – more like a credit card than a ticket, BUT – if you don’t put it back in the machine to be recycled they keep a buck. Put it in, you get your dollar back. Result – none of those subway cards all over the ground like you see in US Cities.

Anyhow, we started at the Little India subway stop. I promised Savita, our guide, that I wouldn’t give away any of her trade secrets, and I know that most people reading this don’t want a line-by-line account of the tour, anyhow. It was pretty interesting, though.

Generally, we followed what might have been a typical housewife’s day in Little India (OK, a very busy day). We started with a vegetable and wet market, where we tried Jackfruit.

This is the largest fruit in the world, and smaller ones are the size of a carry-on suitcase. They have compartmentalized fruit in them, kind of like the segments of an orange, but each one has a seed in it. They taste pretty good, not overly sweet and they’re not so juicy that they’re sticky. They are prickly on the outside, and related to the Durian, but without the smell.

We also hit a flower stand. Flowers are everywhere here, and there are tons of little stands around to buy them at. Many of them are done up in garlands or decorations to go to various temples or as offerings to deities.

If a woman gets a garland of jasmine and weaves it in her hair, this is a signal to her husband that it might be his night to howl if he plays his cards right.

Or it could just mean that she needed flowers.

Eddie eats something Indian

When the tour guide says, “Will you help me with something?” you should always ask “what” before agreeing.

Southerners are naturally helpful, though, and often answer before we think.

So when this question was asked of Eddie and he agreed, it was a fleeting look of panic on his face when he said, “I’ll be right back.”

When the next thing he said was, “Do you watch Fear Factor on Television?” the look came back.

In his hand was a leaf with something on it. We were never sure what it was, exactly, except he assured him that it wouldn’t hurt him. Apparently in India it’s not uncommon to chew on these leaves with this stuff in it (it apparently tastes something along the lines of leaves with a faint lime flavor) as a way to cool you down.

It turns your saliva red, and you don’t swallow it, you spit it out.

Now, given that there’s a $500 fine for spitting, this could have been something of a quandary. Fortunately, there was a street drainage grate there just made for spitting, and our guide had a bottle of water handy for rinsing.

So Eddie was a good sport about it. He chewed and chewed, then he spit so we all could see, and he did it all with a smile on his face.

And we got it on video.

Chinatown Home Depot

Today Larry was off on his own for the first time. After trying to organize things a bit, housekeeping in the hotel finally ran him out – plus it was lunchtime – so off he went to explore.


The first venture was back into Chinatown for things on the list that we needed. Our 110 – 220 converter – essential to power all the electrical gadgets that we can’t live without – was throwing sparks and making hissing noises. While there doesn’t seem to be anything visible wrong with it, noises from electrical gadgets without speakers are seldom good things.

Eventually, he found Chinatown’s version of Home Depot. Except it’s really more like “Floyd’s Fix-It Shop” in Mayberry. There were a couple of guys with enough grey hair to have credibility, and with much pointing and description they finally figured out what we needed.

“Got one right here,” lead to a 20 minute archeological dig, but resulted in an actual transformer, just like we needed. The box looks like it came from the Paleolithic period, but the goods inside were brand new.

No price. “How about $15.00?”

Deal!

Lunch on a Banana Leaf

Lunch on Sunday was at an Indian Restaurant called the Apolo. It was as different from the Chinese lunch the day before as a Bar-B-Que is from Thanksgiving dinner, and yet it was equally as delicious for all the tastes and textures that were mixed together.


First, we were seated at a long table, with our group in the middle. Our “hosts” divided off with the younger on the right, the senior on the left (although, in reality, there wasn’t that much age difference in the group – this didn’t stop the younger ones on the right from needling the older ones on the left about it, though.

Then you got a hunk of banana leaf, about the size of a placemat, put down in front of you. We were told that this was our plate, and as a rule, silverware wasn’t necessary although it would be provided for us. Traditional Indians eat with their right hand (which is also the hand you receive food with) and without a lot of silver. No chopsticks in sight, either.

The tour guide had asked questions about our likes and dislikes, and kept things toward the tame end of the curry scale, thankfully, when ordering. One of the favorites was “cheese Nan”, which is a lot like a tortilla with Parmesan cheese on it. There were a variety of fish, chicken and prawn dishes brought out to try, family style. They were put in the center of the table and you helped yourself.

Then the veggie trolley came by. Imagine, if you will, a couple of chrome plated coffee cans fastened together with a handle in the middle. Not to say that is what it was – this was obviously a restaurant quality piece of manufactured equipment; we’re just trying to give you a visual. In one side is cooked cabbage, and the other side has eggplant in what appeared to be tomato sauce.

The trolley attendant came by and put a big scoop of each on your banana leaf, and then made a second pass with a tub of rice and put a big scoop of that on your leaf. By then the other dishes had arrived and we were passing food back and forth playing, “have you tried this one yet.”

The food was amazing. The company was even better. The other members of the party had a gazillion questions about life in the US, and not a few preconceived notions that they’d gotten from Hollywood.

We don’t all have pools. It does rain sometimes, and gets cold, as you folks are learning right now.

Incidentally, nobody at that table had ever seen snow. One lady said that she saw ice on a roadside one time when travelling, but they all had an interest in it.

The generation gap showed up in other places, as we now know what Brad and Angelina feel like when the paparazzi are around. Their cameras and cell phones never stopped flashing.

The parting question, though, showed both that they liked the time with us and emphasized the generation gap – “Are you on Facebook? Good. We’ll tag you in our pictures.”

Oh, and at the end of lunch, when nobody could stuff in another bite, you removed your silverware and folded your leaf to show whether you liked the food and would return, or whether you didn’t care for it. If you liked it, you folded the top down toward you. If you didn’t, you folded the bottom up away from you.

Little India

Little India is a neighborhood in Singapore that is as historically significant as Chinatown. We got a taste of it on Saturday when we saw the Day of Atonement Procession, but our tour guide today, Mohan, was of Indian descent and was able to give us a better tour.

He led us through a small market, since we had a limited amount of time, so that we could see the difference between the Chinese markets and the Indian markets. There wasn’t as much red in the Indian ones, and they weren’t decorated up for New Years, either.

The shops in Little India had a lot of gold in them. The custom is, when a couple gets married, the bride supplies a dowry to her new husband. Often, much of this is in the form of gold jewelry.

As might be imagined, the spices and foods are somewhat different, too, although to the western eye (and nose), it’s all so different that it’s hard to tell how one is different from the other (Chinese v. Indian).

In the market, the ladies were shown how to put on a Sari, the wrap that goes around them. We learned that there are significant ceremonial times that women get special Saris, like western women get new dresses.

One is when you are married. This is put away like a wedding dress, but comes back out later to be worn during a ceremony held in the 7th month of pregnancy. Later, it’s worn again at their funeral.

One significant advantage of this garment, as the guide pointed out, is that it is all one long piece of fabric. Thus, if one “expands” a bit after marriage, or during pregnancy, the same garment continues to fit.

Not bad to be able to say that you can fit into your wedding clothes on your 50th Anniversary, is it?

Thaipusam, The Hindu Day of Atonement

One of the things that we notice here is that there truly is respect for the festivals and holidays (religious or otherwise) of the different cultures.

There’s a large Indian / Hindu population here, and Saturday was one of their big holiday, Thaipusam, or The Day of Atonement.

This festival is celebrated mostly by the Tamil community on the full moon in January / February.  THe name comes from the name Thai - which refers to the month - and Pusam - which is the star that is at its highest point of the festival.  The festival is a celebration of the birth of Lord Subramaniam, one of the paramount Hindu deities.

Here’s the difference in this holiday and say, Christmas or Ash Wednesday.  Pilgrims make and fulfill vows as a show of their faith -- they pray for divine faith to fulfill their vows, and when their prayers are fulfilled they pay up and do what they said..

Prior to the actual day, they prepare by observing a strict schedule of fasting, dieting and self discipline in order to purify themselves so they may go into a trance-like state and transcend the pain that's about to come -- and we don't mean having to deal with the relatives over the holidays, either.

Part of the street is blocked off for pilgrims who are passing by on their penance journey from one location to another. They are preceded and followed by friends and relatives who are bearing gifts, usually milk and rice. These are sometimes carried on the friend’s heads.

Theyn they are pierced through the cheeks, tongue, face, or just about any other soft body part with sharp objects.  After that, his "friends" load a kavadi (a cage-like structure carried during the devotion, which is usually decorated with peacock feathers and aluminum plates with images of Hindy deities on them) and put it on him while he walks about 4 kilometers on his journey of faith.
And to think that Christians don't want to answer an alter call sometimes!  Talk about putting your faith right out there for the world to see.
We’d seen pictures of this on the Discovery Channel before, but to see it close up and in real life is something that you can never forget.

You also can’t doubt the sincerity of these guys, either. Nobody sticks themselves that much without some type of divine intervention.

I’m just glad that it hasn’t caught on in the States yet.

The pictures and videos of this doesn’t do it justice. We were in our tour bus taking pictures, and, of course, by the time we stopped nobody was coming along. It’s not like the Macy’s Parade where things are scheduled and move along, but rather more like a tent revival meeting where someone comes forward as the spirit moves them.

It was pretty spectacular. Traffic was gridlocked in the neighborhood, and we understood why the tour buses weren’t going through there for the most part, but we were really glad that ours took us through there.

Botanical Gardens

Orchids are the big thing in Singapore. They grow here like crabgrass, although it’s a vast improvement over crabgrass since they’re much prettier. It’s used as a national symbol, and they’re very proud of the variety and number of flowers that they find naturally and have hybridized.

Sunday morning found us on a bus to the Botanical Gardens with our new tour group.

Here’s the funny thing – lots of the locals on the trip – especially the younger ones – said they’d not been there before, or last time they were there was when they were in the 3rd grade on a school field trip.

Again, some things are universal. New Yorkers never go to the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building. In North Carolina, most of us go to Biltmore house any more only when accompanying out of town visitors who haven’t been there before. In Oklahoma, you go to the Cowboy Hall of Fame in the 5th Grade, and then not usually again.

We don’t appreciate the culture in our midst.

Now, for those who are starting to panic, we’re not going to go through all of the different varieties and talk about them individually. There’s a bunch. Some are amazing; some don’t look like orchids, even.

They have a “celebrity garden”, where flowers are hybridized and then named after famous people, usually after they have visited or done something for Singapore. Lady Di’s is a delicate white flower and was on display. Others rotate out on the display.

Tiger Woods, a black orchid with blue and yellow markings, seemed to be missing the day we were there.

OK, that part isn’t true. But it was too good not to say.

Some varieties live high in the mountains and need a cool, moist climate. We liked visiting that greenhouse best, since the temperature was climbing even though it was early in the day.

We’ll let the flower pics speak for themselves.