Walvis Bay, Namibia

A pier lined with marble!

We are in Walvis Bay. Something I certainly had not even dreamed of after my school years. What will it have in store for us? Will it prove different from the general view that it is in an African country and therefore not as developed as the rest of the world? What can our visit show us?

As we step off the gangway we are confronted not by the heat but huge blocks lined up on both sides of the pier. It takes a few minutes for us to absorb the fact that these are blocks of marble each weighing at least 2 tons, ready to be hoisted onto ships for export to affluent nations. We can see the busy commercial port ( with a thriving fishing industry) much further. It is the year 2014, when the harbour has just begun constructing a container port on reclaimed land.

Sunny  but desolate

A 10 min risky walk amid the machinery on the pier takes us to the gates which will be locked overnight. The road that leads us to the 'city' is lined with sheets weighted down with wood craft of animals and masks - very attractive souvenirs. We walk past the vendors, who are not pesky at all, along the road that leads to the city centre. But where are the people? There seems to be a long rectangular building with rarely anyone entering or leaving. It appears to house a small convenience store within (no store front) and perhaps some other businesses. Should we enter to explore? No, we'd rather move along. 

Upscale but still 

Now we seem to be in a fashionable area. Houses are well laid out in a grid. What more they boast manicured and landscaped gardens. Even pine trees. Still, everything but the foliage seems to be still. The gardens are planted with succulents, desert flowers, waxy and fuzzy leaved plants etc. 

A church that was: the who, where and what

A little more wandering leads us to a small church in the distance set in a desert like surrounding. It's Walvis Bay’s oldest remaining building: the Rhenish Mission Church. I have since learnt that the building was prefabricated in Hamburg, Germany, and then reconstructed beside the harbour in 1880. It was consecrated the following year. It had to be relocated later( because the harbour had became heavily mechanised and therefore posed a risk),  to the present site in the mid-20th century.  It functioned as a church until 1966. 

We then come to a functioning unpretentious church with a mural depicting the 3 magi on a boat. Its the Dutch Reformed Mother Church with a fascinating history of Christianity in Africa with places of worship designated based on race and conversion.

Commercial buildings: What is a saree shop doing here?

As we approach the city centre we come across a home/ store (closed) that advertised Indian clothing at half price. Why is it not not open? We could have had a conversation with the proprietor.

And what is that attractive building with thick thatched roofs.? A restaurant. 

We begin to see more people movement  since we are now at a large grocery store with angled parking for customers.

Stirrings 

We have walked a long way but we are not at all sweaty in spite of the hot sun. We now approach a teenage crowd. These are students at the international school all looking very serious. Usually we stop to have conversations with students, but this time we don't. 

And then, again, we seem to be the only people walking along a huge expanse of lawn, punctuated by palm trees. A huge building looks rather inviting. As we walk towards it we realise it is a municipal building and attached to it is the city's  library. We love libraries. Librarians are usually well informed and gregarious. The librarian we meet here is no exception. She points to the little museum from where we learn a little of the history and geography of the area.

Now for the water front:  unhindered wilderness in an inhabited area

Satisfied that we've had a feel for the city we make our way back to the ship. After a quick lunch and some rest I think I should walk along the water front to the lagoon famed for its flamingoes. Its later in the day, closer to sun set and yet the esplanade is devoid of people. It gives me a sense of wilderness.

Chomping on an apple I walk for nearly an hour hoping to get to the reeds I'd seen from far away that mark the nature sanctuary. But it's getting darker and so I abort the attempt. Three, slightly pink pelicans, lined up below the oyster bar on stilts, calmly gaze at me as though consoling me.

 

The burning questions answered

The streets were quiet and the houses all shuttered. Why? Because of sandstorms, of course! In fact a locomotive stands unused at the station because sand storms cover tracks upsetting schedules and damaging equipment.

So, if I'd knocked on the door of the saree vendor someone would probably have opened it.

Where are the ship's passengers? Mostly on excursions to the lagoon for bird and marine animal watching, and to the sand dunes, or to the salt fields ( that supply 90% of south Africas needs) doing what is offered up for tourists.

A majority were busy sliding oysters into their mouths at the oyster bar.

Tourists did not swarm into the city or become a public nuisance as is wont to happen in major cities.

Swakopmund, Namibia

Expecting the unexpected

If our cruise ship had not overnighted in Walvis Bay, Namibia, we would never have known of Swarkopmond. Incredibly the biggest coastal town, a popular local and foreign tourist destination in Namibia, and yet we had been ignorant about it. One of the best things about cruising is docking in ports that are gateways to famous cities. Passengers generally tend to book excursions to places that are touted as attractions. Many a cruiser has lamented not exploring the immediate surroundings of the port. This was an occasion where the capital,  Winhoek, was too far away from the port to explore in a day. That means we get to see the side of Nambia that the ordinary 'have been to Namibia' tourist does not get to see.

Thin strip between desert and sea

Public transport between Wavis Bay and Swakopmund and within the town is practically non- existent. Hence we hire a van (driven by a Zambian woman working in Namibia)) for the  30 km drive on a highway with hardly any traffic. We are dumbfounded  by  the unique geographical features along the way. The edge of the Namib desert meets the right edge of the highway, while on the left is the Atlantic sea whose waters have formed a salt edge along the shore.  There are sub-urban settlements that seem like oases. One is a housing project and the other, closer to town, is the Swakopmund Municipal Camp with its distinctive A-shaped chalets, the mark of a beach resort. The town itself is an oases surrounded on three sides by the Namib Desert.

A well-ordered modernized town

Our driver drops us at the lighthouse around which is a lush park. The park is watered with treated waste water! It has everything one would expect in a park-- a promenade, shady copses, a play area, a variety of colourful decorative plants (some with leaves resembling  coins) and benches facing the sea, etc. 

The local flavour

As we walk around the lighthouse our eyes are treated to a zoo of sorts. Of course, these are sovenir shops with wood carvings of African fauna, all neatly laid out in rows. Again, as in Walvis bay , we are not harassed to buy. There is also a group of thatched huts. We almost dismiss them as shops before we realise that this is a set up by the powers that be. Topless natIve women are sitting around with their children engaged in traditional craft. It is quite obvious they are not too happy to have tourists gawking at them. 

History speaks volumes

Just behind the lighthouse that houses a museum is the State House. We know we're are already in the city when we are surrounded  by unmistakeable German colonial architecture. In the late 19th century  the coastal town was the main harbour for German South West Africa. Elegant church spires and dozens of homes with Tudor Revival facades and gingerbread trim line the streets. Most of these buildings were built as business centres in the 1910s. They have since  been repurposed, mostly into hotels, condos and museums. Bavarian bars and shops selling German goods reinforce the Germanness.

A  building stands out for its red sandstone foundation and yellow walls, pale green half-timbering, gables and a small tower sticking out from the roof. Who would have known that it was a prison! 

Another unassuming but beautiful pinkish building used to be the barracks.

More delights 

The town has a lot to divulge as we rove the lattice of streets and turn unexpected corners. No gutters. No drain pipes. No litter. Enticing boutiques and pastry shops. Attractive potted plants. Cool air.

Dune revelations

Our driver picks us up at the appointed time to drive us back to the port. We stop to get a feel of the dunes. It's amazing how the sand has different textures (at different stages of erosion), and takes on different shades.  The wind has sculpted ripples and waves on the slopes. The sand glitters and offers us glimpses of buried remains of desert fauna. The straggly brush that hold together the sand at different spots is unique to the Namib desert.

The Welwitschia plant has only two leathery, strap-shaped leaves that keep growing. They continue to be shredded by the elements lending them the look of a straggly bush. We may be on one of the oldest deserts on earth since these plants can survive for a 1000 years and more.

Geographical sense

Why are there no gutters and drainpipes?  There's hardly any rain, of course. When it does rain on the desert rivers flow. The water seeps into the ground.  The ephemeral rivers are  harnessed. But this supplies only half of the water needed. A desalination plant accounts for the other half,

Geographical surprise

You’ll notice that I'm wearing a jacket in a desert.  The proximity to the sea helps mitigate the temperatures.

The desert supplies moisture for the area in the form of fog that can reach as deep as 140 km.  When  heated air over desert land  blows towards the cool water currents in the Atlantic ocean it condenses and fog is formed.  It occurs early in the morning and late in the evening. The fog gives the town a fairytale look. It is said that fog occurs 300 days a year and sometimes hangs around for several days making the coast dangerous for sailing. 

For Namibians Swakopmund is equivalent to hill resorts for those living in hot climates.

 

 

 

 

 

Frenzy in Manila, Philippines

Fighting the fray

Swarmed by tuk-tuk drivers, we weave between their front wheels, flatten ourselves between the chassis, dodging laminated tour itineraries thrust into our faces. Enough to break into a sweat and swiftly make a u-turn back to the courtesies of the cruise ship. We are hounded every now and then  while we walk from the port all the way to the old city, Intra Muros, and from there to China Town.  A beggar tails us while crossing Jones Bridge, making it diffcult for us to appreciate the beauty of the wrought iron lampposts.

Calisthenic negotiation to a non event

We walk with slanting feet on the uneven pier walkway that slopes sideways, between yellow barred barriers that lead us into the hall that has copious seating but limited staff ( who turned up later than the passengers) at the information desk. Woe to the wheel-chaired, if not for the shuttle buses, which of course take you to Robinson Place , an upend mall all decorated and stocked for Christmas.

A Nail biting cool evening  

We brave a late evening walk taking advantage of the cooler air only to get glimpses of sights on the opposite side of the road, especially the beautifully lit fountain, obstructed by heavy vehicle truck traffic while inhaling poisonous fumes. 

It's all about strategy.

We hold our breath as we gingerly tread the crosswalk with faded lines and impatient drivers who will not stop for anything. What you do is wedge between vehicles on one lane and peek into the next watching the traffic move until someone slows enough for you to dart across. The truck on the next lane will probably stop, and you cross. The vehicle on this lane stops. You clear the lane. There's one more hurdle. The walkways are so high you have to make an effort to climb onto them. There is nothing to hold on to to swing yourself up. No wonder pedestrians simply cross the road whenever they feel they can weave and dodge trusting the wheels will  slow down.  Local pedestrians  are unencumbered while the vehicles nonchalantly  cause congestion, cough up smoke and blind with headlights. The novice will chew his nails off.

Go with the flow

Even more shocking , during the evening rush hour, vehicles with their blinding headlights on, tail each other. Motorbikes weave among the four lanes and when they find a ramp to the sidewalk, they drive onto it! . . . And continue to drive! When we are walking along the Boulevard beside the golf course the only light comes from these motorbikes coming against us forming 3 lanes. Ever so often we have to  jump aside and hope that we do not trip on the exposed roots of the huge trees. Capping this was the fact that a policeman on his bike was parked at one of the broader ramps and he didn't bat an eye. Perhaps this is how they deal with nasty snarls.

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Vina del Mar, Chile: far from coasting to the beach

Over the Andes to the Pacific coast

In Feb 2016, after our overland travels in Brazil and Argentina we fly from Buenos Aires  to Santiago,Chile. Having flown over the Alps and the Rockies , it is quite exciting to fly over yet another mountain range, the Andes, second only to the Himalayas. After a few days in the city we take a bus to Valparaiso where we would stay for a couple of days before embarking a cruise. Chilean inter-city buses are very professionally run. You have an assigned seat.  Your baggage is securely checked. Imagine an airline trip without the dehumanizing airport experience and long waiting lines. The bus ride of about two hours takes us over, between and around hills.

The first time we were in Valparaiso, a few months before (Dec 2015)we had checked out the whereabouts of our AirBnB apartment. We know the way from the bus interchange and so we roll and pull our bags all the way along the not so ideal path along the railway line towards the city centre, the landmarks being very familiar. 

Giving it a shot: in spite of warnings against muggings

On the second day, we decide to take a local bus for a sally into Vina del Mar. After some unproductive googling we decide to wing it. We would get on a bus very close to our accommodation.  The bus frequency is every 15 mins. Just 340 pesos each  should take us close to the beach for which Vina del Mar is famed. After some waiting the bus arrives. The driver indicates 400 pesos( except for our host no one has been able to communicate with us in English). We drop the coins in a receptacle and get a strip paper ticket. We drive off through the familiar streets with shops overflowing onto the street, and then up and down the various hills housing barrios, starkly showing the effects of frequent earthquakes.

It's more than 15 mins. We are still not at the beach. Passengers board and alight at the various stops. It's half an hour and still no sight of the sea side. We are climbing into the hills. We are driving into a terminus that looks isolated in spite of the numerous buses. The driver looks askance:  where do you want to go? Wrong bus. He advises us to get off and then get into another of the buses just leaving the terminus. That should take us close to the beach (as I understood from a smattering of Spanish and sign language). 

Sure enough, after a tense anticipation of about 10 mins we see a blue horizon and gleaming high rises that spoke of wealth. We surely must already be in Vina del Mar, and so we alight as soon as we see a bus stop. 

Actually, we are not really interested in spending the day on the beach.  Not in this hot steamy weather. Only to see why it is popular. We happen to have alighted in opulent surroundings filled with expensive looking high rises with manicured gardens and statuary, with nary a soul out and about in the surrounds. Perhaps it's too early in the day.

The avenues and boulevards are lined with palm trees and the grand looking distinctive native elephant foot tree. 

Of course, all these buildings have sea views. We realise the beach is not always sandy. Parts of it are strewn with rocks rhythmically pounded by forceful waves. They are red flagged. 

The beaches that intersperse the rocky protuberances are enticing with grainy white sand but the surf is something to contend with. Added to that the waters can be icy cold even in hot weather since the Peruvian current caused by cold streams from Antartica chases along the coast line. What a contradiction -- enchanting and torturous! 

As we walk along the esplanade towards Valparaiso we begin to see the stirrings of a city:  playgrounds, bungee jumping, water sports, food and drink stalls,  etc. The city takes on a more varied skyline. Imposing  edifices appear. Museums, monuments and colonial architecture greet the eye. The 3rd biggest city in Chile doesn't  disappoint.  Historical artifacts from a golden  age are aptly showcased in the old mansions of wealthy families. We are surprised to see a castle, Castillo Brunet, once a mansion. 

We stroll past the unmistakeable art deco style casino. The gardens around it are so well taken care of that it gave rise to the moniker Garden City. A little furthur is Castillo Wulff, built in Neo-Tudor style, with a turret along the shore with waves lashing it. We have passed the most lively part of the city with its thriving restaurants and bars. At this point we are at the palm tree lined estuary of the Marga Marga River  crossing the little bridges. The best place to watch the sun slipping into the horizon with all its twilight glory setting everything aglow.

We still haven't sighted the flower clock which I really want to see for it reminds me of the one we had in Singapore while I was growing up. But we have walked so far and Valparaiso is within sight. Are we going to miss the clock? Just as I was coming to terms with reality  I see the Sheraton looming in front of me. Sheraton would know. Surely someone there will speak English. I walk up to the security  hoping to go into the lobby for information. But I'm not a guest of the hotel and so I'm turned away, not in a huff but with a finger pointing towards the flower clock! And there it stood a few meters away on a sloping lawn made up of 16 thousand plants. Since 1962, when  it was built by the Swiss for the World Cup, it has been damaged by vandalism and a fallen tree. The mechanism had to be replaced. Now the works are based on a GPS system. That the city continues to maintain it at all costs reflects the value the citizens place on the iconic display.

We had already trudged nearly 8 kilometers from Las Salinas to the flower clock. Valparaiso is within sight.  It's a pleasant cool evening. Why not walk to our home? And so we hug the coast for nearly 10 kilometers stopping by or swinging down the Marinas, piers and the not so popular beaches, on an elevated highway  and then to the fish market .

Vina del mar lived up to its reputation. We had yet another adventure and a 18

 kilometer walk. A very satisfying day indeed.

But where are the "vineyards by the water"?

Adelaide lays it out

A yearning

Adelaide, a name I first heard when in Grade 3. The school headmaster, a Mr Lucas, was from Alice Springs in Australia. His daughter, Hannah, and I were classmates. She often referred to the cities. They became  ingrained in my mind.  Later one of the books prescribed for my Cambridge 'O' level examinations was No Highway by Nevil Shute. I was so taken by the author's style, plot and language that I began to read his other novels. That's when I came across A Town like Alice (the story of a young English woman captured by the Japanese in Malaya, and the Australian soldier( from AP) who tries to help the women and child prisoners of war). It struck a chord since I was born in Malaya. My father was a fugitive during the Japanese occupation of the peninsula. I  was understandably very excited indeed.

50 years later, I'd been disappointed that on our first trip to Perth,  Australia, we were not able to visit Adelaide. That Alice Springs is a 6 hr flight from Adelaide did not matter. It was close enough for my imagination. We'd driven down the Western Coast from Perth to Albany, overnighting in a camp ground which had stationary old out-of-service RVs propped up on bricks that served as chalets. The ablutions were common. The manager was friendly. The small kitchen on board was adequate for our basic needs. We didn't have time to travel further.

On our second trip to Australia, Sydney this time, we drove up to Sun Shine Coast and then all the way down to Melbourne. We wanted to do the great coastal drive towards Adelaide. and we did, but, only half way, again due to time constraints.  

Adelaide lays it out

Our chance came when we cruised all around Australia, starting in Tasmania and ending in Sydney. 

We disembark and walk right into a Christmas parade. The city is abuzz. Naturally traffic is blocked. The floats filled with fictional and fairy tale characters in various settings and styles glide by. We find a vantage point on the steps to a colonaded building. When Santa, who brings up the rear, enters we know the parade is about to end. Within a few minutes the city is almost devoid of traffic. It returns to its normal quiet self, except on some streets where the partying continues. 

The trams within the city are free. We try them. it helps to discover that the route is quite walkable. And so we stroll to the city centre, sit on a bench and watch the world go buy. A little earlier we had walked into the central market area where we were irresistably drawn to the soft round Lebanese bread. Pulling off pieces of the bread and savouring them under the shade of a tree, facing an interesting facade, is one the most restful things we've enjoyed in our travels.

Architectural curiousities shaped by history 

Walking down the streets we cannot help but notice iconic buildings.

What's in a name?

I've never come across a market calling itself a Fruit and Produce Exchange. Arched entrances and cantilevered canopies retain the historic facade of this heritage historic site. It is an invitation to the richness of colour and variety of products plied in the innumerable stalls.

The iconic buildings are all within easy reach. The unique light earth tones of the bricks make the facades look as thought the walls have been minutely sculpted. The University with its classic renaissance style, 153 year old St Peter’s Cathedral with its gothic spiralling colums and lancet windows, and the Victorian Town Hall all together symbolise the city's independant culture. The city, unlike most cities in Australia, did not begin with convicts. It was based on free settlement, not convict labour.

Celebrations continue in the many wide spaces between the buildings, with clowns, balloonists, a didgeridoo performance and even a party on a bar on wheels!

DrInk has seen enough and wants to return to the ship. I do not like to miss botanical gardens, especially if it is in the heart of the city.

A tree that squawks

So, here I go and within minutes I'm met by dense greenery. One particular tree stands out. It is all mostly parrot green interspersed with clusters of red. Curious to know whether it was crab apple or some berry bearing tree I approach and that's when it strikes me! Where's all that squawking and screeching coming from? The tree! It is dense with rainbow  lorikeets. They begin to flutter. I steer clear so as not to disturb their town meeting. The hazy picture I take of the action filled moment depicts the flurry both in the observer and the observed. 

The gardens were laid out very well but to me they paled in comparison to the birds that greeted me.

Diversity and architecture 

I've been to botanical gardens in almost all the cities we've visited, but this one remains the most unique. The conservatory and palm pavilion are like those in Edinburgh with a diversity of flora ( I've yet to visit Kew Gardens in London) except for the architecture ( the largest single span glasshouse house in the Southern Hemisphere). The water lily pavilion  also sets the garden apart.

Singularly notable sculptures fashioned out of various kinds of material abound. Enlivening it all are the eyecatching scarecrows. 

Museum of Economic Botany, really!?

True. It's not only one of a kind but also the last of its kind in the world. Most of the exhibits have been there since the inception of the museum 140 years ago. They showcase various uses of plants with minimum wastage. The coconut and banana tree come to mind.

A knowing look: The Garden of Health

Medicinal plants grown in a tranquil setting. A living demonstration! The labels show how different parts of the 2,500 plants are used to heal the body, mind and soul, in the various cultures of the world. I had never seen lucerne, rennet, and caper plants before. Imagine my delight in discovering  the ingredients I use in my cooking in their raw form! I believe I got a knowing look and a nod from them.

Sustainable environment, especially water

Walking into another part of the garden is even more edifying. We very well know that water, climate and soil condition determine the type of flora. The Water Mediterranean  garden incorporates  brooks and about 130 species from all the Mediterranean  zones of the world, all carefully nurtured into a stunning display. They tell the story of how they are intertwined with cultures. Very intriguing indeed for one who delights in human geography.

A suitable entrance

Now I'm confronted by a randomly arranged set of low fountains. The sculpture is carved out of black granite and has water flowing over it as a fountain. The 14 piece sculpture was inspired by the fossilised vertebrae of an Ichthyosaur, a highly specialised  aquatic reptile, displayed in the South Australian Museum. How fitting a representation of the objectives of the gardens!

Naha: not so Japanese

Naha: Dragon or Mushroom?

Naha, a city in Okinawa, Japan. Most of us who are familiar with WW II will remember Okinawa as the island where the US Marines defeated the Imperial  Japanese military in 1945

During my school days I remembered Naha by associating it with a Sanscrit homonym, Naga, which means dragon -- a mythical creature with slightly different features in various Asian folklore. My nemonics didn't go far wrong, or so I thought. As we enter the entirely rebuilt city from the cruise port we are greeted by two towering dragon like pillarss.No problem with the  nemonic. But the origin of the name? I had something to learn. Naha is a Western Japanese name for mushroom! There had been a mushroom shaped rock in the city which  has since gradually eroded to the ground and disappeared entirely. The name remains. It seems an apt description for a town that was completely destroyed during the battle of Okinawa mushrooming into the vibrant city it is now. 

It's all about location and worth

Where is the tourist information center? Opposite McDonalds and therefore easy to locate! 

We are not sure we want to take the public transport to visit the restored and rebuilt Shujiro Castle touted to have beautiful gardens (as only Japanese gardens can be). They are free to enter but the castle itself is under renovation. The guide at the information centre looks up the entry fees and then helpfully adds that we would be charged only half the rate since there would be very little to see until the works are complete. If we did go we would still not be able to visit the 450 metre long complex of tunnels underneath it  that were used as a major command post by the Imperial Japanese military during World War II, the reason why the castle was subsequently almost destroyed by the US Marines. Did we visit? . . 

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Traditions and associations 

Our free shuttle from the port drops us off, as usual, at the popular shopping arcade with a warren of side streets an alleys. Flanking the entrance of the arcade are two shisaas, lion dog statues,l one with a closed mouth and the other open as though baring its teeth. These are no laughing matter.. The close-mouthed keeps the good spirits protected within while the open mouthed frightens (roars?) evil spirits away. They are talismans that form a significant part of the Okinawan culture. You see them everywhere, at entrances to buildings, on roofs, at the corners of eaves, and of course, in abundance at the temples and shrines.

You may wonder: Isn't the lion a Chinese symbol? Yes, it is. But why in Japan? That, of course, takes you back to ancient history and how the island was once part of China. I am told some Okinawans also speak Hokkien, a Chines dialect. 

Chanpuri, paanipuri, potpourri

Okinawa boasts of 'Chanpuri' cuisine. The word reminds me of the Indian  'paanipuri' ( crispy bite sized shell loaded with spicy salad). In fact, The Japanese word 'Chanpuri' means 'that which is mixed'! 

How so? Japanese penchants, Hawaiian weather, flavours of China, American symbols!

Are we in Hawaii?

It is a blazing sunny day. We find ourselves taking shelter in the shadows of lamp-posts as we wait for the lights to change at the crossroads of Kokusai-dōri, the main shopping thoroughfare. We weave through explosions of colour. The alleys are interesting and crowded but we have seen enough. Okinawa is the Hawaii of Japan. Palm trees line the streets. Eye-catching, colourfully printed Hawaiian like beach attire and footware seem to tumble out of the little shops. 

Dog fashion

The same shops also sell beach wear for dogs in displays that would certainly tempt  the dog owner. I can't speak for the dogs. 

American symbols 

We have enough of the nearly 2 km long shopping street filled with groups of Japanese youth dressed in different uniforms, carrying large shopping bags that display 'Spam', 'Orion', etc. Go figure the large presence of 'America'!  

Cuisine

Time to make the quick customary fish market visit,which turns out to be rather quiet for it's rather late in the day. The restaurants here serve more meat, not just sea food, and a greater variety of vegetables and fruits compared to the rest of Japan. This also is a result of history and geography (the tropical climate).

Dragon boat

Farther along the road, outside a swanky glass and steel building -- along a meandering canal that has concrete paths lining both banks, crisscrossed by bridges-- occupied by high end shops which do not seem as popular with the youth as the shopping street,  sits a huge yellow boat which I almost miss in spite of its size and bright yellow paint. It was sitting just a few metres ahead of me and yet I had to find someone to show me where it was. Expectations and reality to not always match. Alas , it was only a replica of a simplified dragon boat reminiscent of the boat races of the past. Another mark of Chinese influence.  With one side cut off and pairs of  concrete seats down the middle you could sit there and imagine yourself in a race. 

Kid-me-(k)not

Next we find a relatively shady road that takes us towards a pottery lane. We are distracted by a display of what seems like a gigantic rope knot. It is a rope! It is huge. Not even Sumo wrestlers but only giants, or machines can even pick it up.The cross section is fascinating. We find a board that tells us about it in English. A rope used in a tug-of-war. It was pulled using thinner ropes placed strategically  along the thicker one. Needless to say the rope was used to celebrate either a coronation or a victory.

Pottery: slipped in or painted on?

As we walk we see unmistakable signs of the pottery lane. Shops line the slightly undulating and meandering street. Some are ancient. These were the only ones that remained almost intact during the battle of Okinawa. We could have walked into any of these and not be surprised to see a potter at his wheel creating beautiful ceramics. One fairy-tale-like cottage, perched on a low hill, looked particularly ancient and promising but too intimidating because of the awe it inspired. Climbing up the hill from the back I came across a long traditional adobe kiln. Going by the shards of pottery laid at the base of the trees with ancient gnarled roots holding them in place certainly did evoke a strong sense admiration and respect for the artists devoted to their work now displayed in museums. Their work was unlike the Chinese Ming ceramics with fine, intricate paintings. The Okinawan pottery, the way I see it,  were shapes that were determined by the  natural earth colours blended or slipped into them as they were shaped.

Religion

It is extremely hot today compared to the last few months. Getting a tan! So we return to the ship and then get back onto the pier as the day gets cooler thanks to a few clouds.  Throughout our walk in the morning we have come across several shrines that ranged in size from a tiny hut to a multi-roomed building with tiled roofs. We have spotted one near the pier. We cross the major junction flanked by the dragons to get to the teeny weeny stretch of a beach. We find ourselves at the foot of a hill on which stands a place of worship with its unmistakable tile roofs with sishas placed at various points. We work our way around the hill and find the path that takes us up to a flight of stairs through a couple of Shinto arches. The temple next to it is locked. Spying through the glass sliding doors we can feel the sublimity and calmness of the white pebble covered zen courtyard. The buildings around it seem to embody structures related to, Buddhism, and Taoism. Again the unmistakable Chinese heritage.

Threats

Happy that we found a calm end to our day we leave the old Confucius temple. The moment we do the skies open. We break into a quick walk hoping the rain will peter out. As we walk down a couple of punk( because of their hairstyle) like youth loudly ask us where we are from. This is Japan and so we give them our unguarded honest answer even though their bold manner didn't reflect the Japanese respect. We try to find shelter under the trees but we have no idea if the rain will stop and so we continue. We get a  little drenched. The ground emanates its earthly smell. As we were rush to the ship the drops peter out. We are dry by the time we reach the ship. We made it.  We will leave the port in an hour.

The incident with the bold Japanese youth keeps bothering me. Why? They remind me of the Yakuza. Wasn't one of the culprits of the Sarin attack in Tokyo arrested on the island of Okinawa?

Fukusyen  Park

This Chinese garden is close to the pier. Pictures do not do justice to the aesthetic lauot, choice of structures and that of the plants.

Did you know?

Karate originated in Okinawa. It evolved from the ancient Kung Fu

Residents of Naha have the worlds longest life span. 

Sakaiminato: Homage that wasn’t, roller coaster not ridden

Where in the world is Sakaiminato? 

You guessed it. Japan.I had not heard if this port until it appeared on our cruise itinerary. Like always we get excited about a new port and how Japanese it will be in terms of its architecture and culture. We expect Shinto shrines and the ubiquitous sea food markets. If any of these ports was very different from what we had already seen of Japan we would be very interested in it. It was different, but . . .

Worth the visit?

Alas, we find out that we are too far away from the city's so called attractions. The shuttle round trip to the heart of the city, 25 mins aways was 25 USD. You'll see why it was not worth it for us in particular. 

Sakaiminato is the birthplace of Shigeru Mizuki, the manga writer,  the creator of GeGeGe no Kitaro, a yokai creature ( seen in many forms throughout Japan).  Kitaro Road is a street dedicated to all the characters that appear in Mizuki's stories. Apparently one hundred bronze statues of the story's characters line both sides of the road. As though that was not enough, façades  of the stores and buildings as well as lamp-posts are yokai inspired. DrINK and I usually avoid theme parks and this promised to be one entirely based on manga. Certainly young Japanese have their quirky interests ( let alone Hello Kittys)and that is a trait that the rest of the world is aware of but does not necessarily buy into. But we can't escape it. There is a huge figure at a restaurant at the pier. The building at the base of the observation tower nearby is shaped like a samurai helmet and that, of course, relates to the glorious past.

Of course, we hear from our friends who made the trip rather than stay on the ship. They are impressed by the cleanliness of the streets and the restrooms. Even more impressive was the courtesy extended to foreigners and fellow citizens alike.

To ride or not

If you are interested in cars you would probably have watched an advertisement for Daihatsu cars. The cars drive up a steep ramp on a crooked bridge. This bridge is in Sakaiminato. Again, its about 6 km away from the pier. Public transport is spotty. A shore excursion will take us over the bridge and  to the garden on the island to which it connects. It would  be hardly more than a simple roller coaster ride.

Many of us who are not interested in the 'creatures' just want to walk around for a few hours. We decide to walk to the bridge even though the very helpful guides at the Tourist information booth tell us it's too far away. 

A walk to remember

Nevertheless, we stride towards it. 6km wouldn't be too much on this cool day. We could take short breaks. The first kilometer or so we see nothing. At junctions all the four roads have the same name ( the name of a landmark like a school or a shopping centre, or and office building). No memorable landmarks except the railway tracks to Amerikano station.  We just walk in the general direction counting the number of roads we have to cross. The pavements are shaded by verdant bushes and trees. They are filled fruits and birds chirping away. The road we take is now lined with alleys filled with traditional homes with well kept gardens. In between are vegetable gardens and green rice fields with farmers working on them. Some gardens have hand pumps for irrigation! 

Our feet begin to hurt. We find an abandoned building, sit in the shadows, refuel ourselves with a cookie and sips of water and then plod on. We meet a cyclist riding with his girlfriend and check our route with him. They both confirm the direction but little else. 

Hey, Presto!

About half an hour later we approach another cyclist who gives us definitive directions. A few metres more , turn right, walk up to the gas station, turn left and continue till you see the bridge. The one way conversation is all in Japanese and gestures but we feel as though we have arrived. 

Sure enough within the next 20 mins we find ourselves in the residential area where the bridge begins its low gradient slope to the horizontal span across the water before it dips steeply and at angle on to the island. The bridge was designed to accommodate the passage of ships underneath. We have already walked for more than 3 hours and climbing it, even over the low gradient, was out of the question. Just by the side of the bridge are a series of solar panels glinting in the sun. A short rest and back we go towards the ship making just another stop at a serene Shinto shrine . We have walked for nearly 6 hours. 

The shinto shrines gave us a cool respite. Then came what could have passed for the Ricoletta in Buenos Aires. Granite tombstones stood tall and mighty in a residential area. 

After a well earned dinner we slept well that night.

Sokcho, South Korea: a first for us, our ship, for the port

A celebration

After an afternoon and evening  of rough seas as we cross the Sea of Japan we dock quietly at Sokcho port in the wee hours of the day. It's  going to be a cold morning. At the port immigration clearance is easy peasy. We hear Korean drums. The moment the automatic  doors open masked figures appear.  Beside them costumed performers  hail us with their gongs. The team includes a sweet little boy who stole the show. We made history and they are drumming it home -- looks like we are part of a historic Holland America Cruise Lines's  very first arrival at this the port. More Importantly, the very first cruise ship after covid. Hence the joy.

Patience pays: freebies

What is the line forming behind one of the booths? Don't  want to miss anything. Three women artists with brushes and paints are busy painting paper fans. You have to give them your name in English, they pronounce it, and when they are sure they got it right they paint your name in Korean chacracters on the fan and then embellish it with painted flowers. There is no charge. Some guest are asking for several for themselves. Sheer greed. If e eryone was allowed one each only the queues would not have moved faster. 

They also have a coffee booth. I skip that for later. The local ale sample booth is wasted on us but very very popular.

Twists and turns

Our plan is to  explore the streets after the shuttle bus drops us at the Tourist market. What we thought we would see, and what we would skip all pop up as we ride through the streets. That are so many turns  that its hard to register it all. We ride past the tower erected for the EXPO of 1999. We didn't have it on our list because it seemed too far to walk from our drop off point and we didn't think it worth the visit. But the bus was slow enough to give us a photo opportunity as it drove around the huge park. According to the map we seemed to be making detours. Was this a predertimed tourist route or was the city planning poor?  

Navigating and negotiating a new city and an alien langiage

The tourist market is famed for( what else?) fish and fish products as well as various Korean snacks.. Its made up of rows of stalls with a high curved opaque roof covering the aisles that criss cross in a grid. After a few obligatory photographs we exit and walk out on to the street in a direction I think will lead to the famed seaside pavilion whose name sounds like the waves gently lapping the rocks at its base. Our port map does little to help us for most of the inner streets and lanes are spelt in Korean. 

We want to walk to the pavilion built on the shores of Sokcho but we can't identify the landmarks. It's best to ask. So I enter a bakery. The girls speak English. They insist that it’s  too far to walk and taking the bus would be best. However I was sure it was only a 20 minute  walk from the Market. She points us in the direction of the city bus terminus which was probably about 10 minutes  away. We hadn't  bothered to get local currency for we had really no need for it. She suggests a taxi. She points in the direction where we might hail one. Beleiving that the direction will lead us to the pavilion we start walking. After about 20 minutes it is clear that we are lost. We still do not recognise landmarks but we do recognise brand names. We are in the main thoroughfare lined with boutiques. We don't want to go around in circles in a bitterly cold morning. So, again we enter a boutique to ask for directions. The sales clerk converses in fluent English. She too tells me it's too far to walk and suggests a bus or taxi. But we want to walk. She enlists the help of her colleague who is now attending to a customer and doesn't speak a word of English. She knows the city very well. We are walking in the wrong direction. We are to take a U-turn and walk all the way till we catch sight of the sea and then turn right. 

Saved by the bull 

Now we  walk with more confidence even though we haven't a clue as to how long it would take us. We begin to recognise two of the landmarks. The Tourist market was probably on a parallel St. But the bull, like the one in Manhatten, is unmistakeable. We know we are walk8ng in the right direction. We are supposed to pass by City Hall and the Bus Terminus, but were thry also on a parallel st. My map reading skills are certainly not poor! At long last we catchmsight of the sea. Should've take a side road as a short cut? What it turns out to be a dead end. Not worth tak8ng chances. The day is beginning to get warmer. We are at the city's  main traffic circle. Our destination is in sight. With renewed vigour we practically skip towards it. It is well worth the walk. The shoreline is breathtaking with waves lapping against the rocks, the sonorous music having given rise to its name, Yeonggeumjeong. There are two pavilions: one at the tip of a pier, and the other on the top of a rock. It would have been wonderful to have been able experience sunset in the particular location.

Happy discovery: a refuge of two kinds

As we walked towards it we had glimpses of our ship. We do not have to return to the market, and probably get lost in the process, to catch the shuttle back to the boat.  So now we now take a route along the shore lined with hundreds of sea food stalls towards the bridge. To our delight the bridge partly crosses over into Abay village. Exactly what we had planned to visit after a short sojourn at the dock. What would have been a long route from the other end of the bridge becomes actually shorter. There is a staircase from the bridge that leads us directly into the village. We are particularly interested in the area since this is where refugees from North Korea first settled. Of the original thousand only a hundred or so remain. The rest have left for other parts of the country. It is a quaint village of small houses with typical tiled roofs separated by narrow alleys. The citizens even have lush vegetable patches. Many of the buildings have now been converted  into inns and cafes. 

The village lies along Sokcho beach, the ship docked at the deep end, and beach goers enjoying the beach just a few meters away. Lots of benches and excellent public WiFi to boot. Its wonderful to see a public beach with not a single beach umbrella or deck chair. 

A memorial catches our attention. Two hand reaching out to each other while a couple and their child look on with hope. You guessed it. We are only about 20 km away from the observation tower that overlooks North Korea. We are close to the DMZ.

There are many other attractions around Sokcho but they are just too far away and we stand the risk of missing our boat.

As we return to the ship i savour the smooth Korean coffee that I saved for last. Its getting colder. From the bow I get lost in the fascinating  procedures as we get untethered and back into the sea. Our host bid us loud fawells as we depart. A speed boat rushes ahead of us and then just stops. It's bobbing on the ocean. At one point it starts up and speeds across out path. Dare devil! We hoot a warning. The speedster is clear. He the bobs again with pride on the other side of the ship. 

What resilience, sense of community, and discipline can do: Miyako-Iwate

Not to be confused with Miyako Island

Miyako-Iwate is a small city of about 51,000 people situated on the eastern-most coast of Honshu, Japan's biggest and main island. It has a container port famous for its  fish. The main attraction is its surrounding national park with underground caves and limestone cliffs as well as its top rated beaches( especially Jodogo-hama beach) popular with Japanese holiday makers.

Miyako is not a cruise port and so there is no port building to walk through. The residents give us a warm welcome with their high school students playing music to their guests on a cold morning - guaranteed to warm our hearts. 

A truly Japanese welcome

The lack of a cruise building is more than made up for with several marquees. Hordes of volunteers gave out local maps. There is even a bouncy 'castle' albeit a Japanese cartoon character! The day is beginning to warm up. A shuttle bus takes us to the railway station in about 25 mins. There is a tourist office there but we don't need it since its an easy city to navigate and we are definitely not going to the the promoted attractions that are a long drive away. We could take the local buses but we are content to explore the immediate vicinity. This turns out to be remarkable since we really get to appreciate the nature of theJapanese culture as never before.

Is the Town alive

It has begun to drizzle but by this time we are already near their famous fish market. A quick tour gives us some respite before we resume the walk along what seems to be an arterial road lined with old and new buildings. It wax hard to tell whether each was residential or business property. Most of the doors a closed against the cold and we are not even sure if the businesses are open except if there is  a tell-tale sign of umbrellas placed in a tall receptacle at the entrance. There's one in every store.

Since it's still autumn the gardens are still abloom with flowers. One garden was especially attractive with its multicoloured flowers. As I was passing by, one particular pot made me stop on my track and retrace a few steps. Bunches of grapes- a few were green and others were purple. Was this a hybrid  or grafted grape vine? This is Japan after all! Defintely a reason for a closer look. Aha! These are not grape leaves! More scrutiny. Bunches of plastic grapes placed at strategic nodes with the help of ties! Could have fooled me!

Sylvan setting

We continued our walk uphill on a narrow road with a pullout now and then for passing cars (almost none). Water babbled in the background and birds chirped. We  were actually walking along a naturally camouflaged  stream. No fences. It can't get anymore natural. Almost every house has a garden with either fruit trees or vegetables. I spott a hairy fruit. You guessed it. kiwi. And there are hundreds on the few vines that a lady with a broad smile for us was tending. We had a one-sided conversation with a cascade of Japanese words which I took to mean , "Sorry, the fruits are not ripe, and will not be for a few weeks. My apologies for not being able to share any with you."

In another residence fire wood has been stacked in various parts of the garden. One vegetable garden has bright red chillies! And, what are these other fruits- passion fruit? As we near the top of the hill the rain picks up. We find shelter under an overhead pass.

 Perhaps the overhead two-lane  road would take us back to town, but our map stops short there and we we retrace our steps downhill. In one of the bigger residences in town we see a resident trimming off the parasitic creepers on his fruit tree from his balcony upstairs. There is a lot more life on the streets with Japanese women in their aprons  frequenting their favourite stores for their fresh fish and vegetables. 

What is it about Japanese temples? They are so calming.

Now, we follow the map again to a temple. We hadn't realised how cleverly the route had been indicated on the map. The relevant numbers appeared on the lamp posts! No trouble at all reaching the quiet temple beside which is a kindergarten. The tatami mats in the temple are very comfortable to sit on. I grab the opportunity for a short meditation.

On our way back to the port we pass by a shrine. We looked at the steep and narrow stone hewn steps. Not today! We have seen enough shrines in Japan

The most friendly citizens

Back at the railway station we take a quick look at the tracks, even crossing them, before we head back to the port. We are greeted by the many volunteers who know only a few welcoming words. They are all college students majoring in English, Korean and Chinese! They struggle as we ask about them but bravely and hesitantly try to communicate with us. 

The port is abuzz with guests trying on kimonos, trying out food from the food trucks, learning to write their names in Japanese, etc. 

Ha! There's WiFi. Of course, it's intermittent but who wouldn't want to connect. And then we are done for the day. As we we pull off the local high school brass band peforms a selection of music and the citizens have come out in full force to wave us off on a safe voyage.

What can the world really learn from Miyako-Iwate?: Recovering from the  tsunami 

Recent history is testament to their resilience. The prefecture was horrendously battered by a massive earthquake in March, 2011. The tsunami that resulted in  10 meter high waves that rose over their levees destroying most of downtown. Homes and businesses were lost. A 6 storey hotel on the famous beach lost two of its bottom most floors to the tsunami while the four upper floors remained. All the while the proprietor of the hotel was standing on the top floor watching his hotel being washed away underfoot. Today the Taro Kanko Hotel is a designated earthquake heritage site.

What a lively spot the city is today. The Japanese, typically, are not complainers. They pick up where they left, and carry on with life. They are not quick to blame. They look out for each other. There's something there that we can all learn from.