Pirates on the Red Sea. Could we be 'marooned'?

Dangerous waters

We enter Suez Canal through the Isthmus of Suez from the Mediterranean, continue down the Gulf of Suez,  spend a day at Sharm-al-Sheikh. a seaside town popular with the Russians, take the other arm of the Red sea up into the Gulf of Aqaba, have a day in Aqaba, Jordan, and then sail back into the Red Sea. That night we receive a note from the capain with instructions for the next two days as we sail towards Salalah, Oman.  

The risk

We have been sailing through narrow channels of water and that means we may encounter pirates. The Suez Canal probably has some protection. It gets especially risky where the Red Sea meets the Gulf of Aden. We are very close to Somalia whose pirates, in small armed boats, are in the employ of pirate 'cartels'. The note tells us we will be taking precautionary measures. Modern container ships are easy prey since these ships have minimum staff and they could be easily overcome. Their goods are worth more. The hijacked ship is also their booty. Lets not get carried away here.  A cruise ship like ours has a crew that is almost as equal in number as the guests. Isn't the ship too tall for the little boats?  If at all pirates manage to take control of a cruise ship passengers could be held for ransom or, god forbid, may be made to "walk the plank". 

Precautions

But we are not taking chances. We have to be alert. It would be lights out over both nights. The festoon of fairy tale lights typical of a cruise ship will be turned off. The curtains in our cabins are to be drawn so that not a single ray of light becomes a beacon. In  some ships guests are asked to leave their cabins and stay out in the interior corridors to avoid gun shots. When we take a walk around the deck before nightfall we see the fire hose laid out all around the outside deck. Water jets would be used to deter the enemy. There are snipers on board. Apparently boats ply along these routes with security officers for hire. They hop on to the ship that  hired them, do their job, and then hop off into their 'commute' boat and go on to their next assignment on yet another ship. It transpires that some ships have razor wire or spikes all around the side of the ship.

No tale to tell

We arrive in Salalah, Oman, without incident. We didn't get to experience one-legged Long John Silver and his parrot( RL Stevenson's Treasure Island) or Captain Hook ( JM Barrie's Peter Pan) . We're happy not to have encountered a modern pirate at sea. The two day vigilance is enough to etch a memory.

Incredible cisterns and repurposed aqueducts: the Basilica Cistern and more

Drowned in disbelief: a colossal underground cistern

The modern world is cognizant of hydroelectric dams that create huge reservoirs. The Three Gorges dam and Hoover dam come to mind. But a reservoir of huge proportions built underground fed by channelled water is quite mind boggling considering that it was built in the 6th century.  

I am referring to none other than Istanbul’s Basilica cistern, and how it kept the city supplied with water since the sixth century. 55 steps down from the entrance you find yourself in a subterranean world beguiled by haunting music. You begin to feel the coolness, and you hear the spooky trickling and drip, drip of water, while adjusting your eyes to the creepy darkness. The dim lighting begins to define shapes around you. Rows and rows of pillars surround you as you walk on a platform built over about a foot of water, populated by carp, that covers the floor. Some puddles appear on the walkways, and you try to side step. You almost expect a face to peer from behind the 30 ft  pillars (336 in all) bottom lit with amber lights, the reflections in the pool playing spectral tricks with their dimensions. As you get closer and more comfortable  you feel like touching the pillars and then you begin to appreciate that each pillar that holds up the roof has a different design. In a darker section, almost towards the farthest end, a pillar seems to be upside down. Or, is it? It has two carved stone faces of Medusa, her hair made up of snakes. One look from her and you'll be turned to stone, according to Greek mythology.  But, lets not be hasty. One face is placed upside down and the other sideways. You are safe. You will not be turned to stone.

Why are the pillars a hodge podge collection? Speculation has it that these columns are from elsewhere in the empire, perhaps discarded or from ruins, now repurposed.

If an Olympic sized swimming pool overwhelms you, just imagine 27 such pools that will be needed fill the underground cavern you are in.   To hold that water in the walls need to be 4 meters thick and waterproofed! An engineering feat indeed. A great idea to keep the water cool and clean for usage at the Hagia  Sophia!

Where did the water come from? It was channeled from a river through the Valens viaduct that we accidentally came across in another part of Istanbul (Detailed in my blog on Istanbul).

That is not the end of the story. This cistern is only a small part of a complicated system that includes not only viaducts, but also, fountains, water towers and canals.

Aqueduc de l'Horloge, Provence,  France

Talking about underground cisterns, our host in St Chamas( Provence,  France) living in the outskirts of the town, owned one. No, not ancient, but unassumingly practical and modern. They had a pump installed in their backyard which drew up underground water to fill up a tank ( covered cistern) to be piped into the household. But there was a limit that they could draw and on days they had staying guests, the tank ran the risk of running dry within a few hours. It seemed wise to check the availability of water before we turned on the laundry machine. The host would have to wait a certain amount of time before the pump is turned on again to be sure that it is not pumping up mud.

But this town also has a historical aqueduct, the Horloge, sporting a clock, which is now a tourist attraction. It is 23 meters high and offers a beautiful view of the lagoon and the plains surrounding it and, of course, St Chamas. 

Another attraction of the town is the cave dwellings and wine cellars about which I'll propound in yet another blog.

Open cisterns 

In my blog on Bali I referred to cisterns in the bathroom from which we scooped dippers of water to pour over ourselves. This type is found widely in Asia. But we also came across these in Spain. When we were exploring Vigo, we happened to walk through an area filled with old houses with only narrow alleys separating them. We chanced upon a series of cisterns that was actually where the townspeople did their laundry. Taps filled the cisterns which are now in disuse. 

 

Repurposed aqueduct, San Teresa, Rio de Janeiro 

In Rio, our AirBnB apartment, in the Lapa area, was very close to Santa Teresa, once an elite neighbourhood. We could either climb the ceramic tiled Selaron stairs uphill or take the vintage 32 passenger tram. The ride takes us on the 18th century Carioca Aqueduct that once served an important role in supplying the city with fresh water, with its main water supply coming from the Carioca river.  We have walked under this structure several times not realising that the tram ran on it! Rio has just restarted the service, in time for the  2016 Summer Olympics,  and we are some of the first few hundreds to experience it.

Maribor 'tower' 

When we are in Maribor, Slovenia, exploring the wine town famous for its 100 year old grape vine we come across a small squat pentagonal structure. It is not exactly a tower. If you're  thinking public washrooms, god forbid. It is a water cistern  apparently built as part of the fortification of the city during the late 16th century.

Quirky cisterns that put a smile on your face

As we drive through Punjab, India, we are treated to playfully concealed overhead water tanks.

Bridging continents: Istanbul, Turkey

Istanbul doesn't disappoint 

We've cruised to Istanbul twice( 2015 and 2016), staying overnight both times. Each time we boarded in Barcelona where we happened to meet  passengers returning from a cruise to the same destinations as ours, they  expressed disappointment that their ship had to skip the port for the sake of the safety of the guests. It was a time of political turmoil and fears of riots were heeded.

We were lucky. 

Asia meets Europe

Since the port is quite close to the city centre, we only have to cross the Golden Horn (an inlet of the Bosphorous), via Galatta Bridge, where it meets the Bosphorus. The bridge is a hub of activity at twilight. Anglers patiently catch fish with their rods from the top deck while spectators watch boats traversing between the inlet and the Strait. The catch is sold to the restaurants serving local cuisine at the lower deck.

Most significant is the fact that when on the Bridge you look West toward Europe. Toward the East, across the Bosphorous, is Asia. Needless to say, most of the attractions like the Topkapi Palace, just across the Inlet, the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia are all on Western side.

Blue Mosque prayers. 

The first time we went we were among throngs of tourists. The second time we choose to go long before the prayer schedule. Going in before prayers gives us the opportunity to appreciate the size and the silence. Some women are praying in the female section hidden behind lattices. I have to wear a peremptory scarf provided at the entrance. A few men sit in prayer along a roll of prayer rug. Drink and the grandsons kneel on the rug far behind them and sit in the silence respecting the worshippers. The blue tiles intricately adorning the interior walls and domes gives the 17th century Mosque it's name.

Abrahamic religions coexist

At the Hagia Sophia we wonder at the restoration work on the Christian murals and mosaics, interspersed with suspended green and gold velvet banners  bearing the Islamic teachings. The pillars of various types of marble remind us of Rome. After all this was Constatinople ( named for Constantine of the Roman Empire),  which then became the capital of the Byzantine empire. 

Generally,  the locals impressed us as not being fundamentalist Muslims. It was not considered unreligeous if they did not attend prayers at the Mosque. Turkey is a secular country. We didn't seem to stand out at the spice market or at the chowk, which is such a maze, it is easy to get lost in there. It's so colourful and vibrant it reflects the progressive attitude of the Turkish people.

"My Friend": touchy

While riding the bus motherly  women stroke the grandchildren's cheeks with affection. A row of school girls is thrilled to see us standing without losing our balance eliciting many giggles whilst presumably conjecturing about us in their mother tongue.

When walking down the streets men put their hands around male strangers and address them as "My friend!"

Too tall for a free ride

The next day, instead of walking, we take the local tram to the city centre. We have to purchase tokens from a machine that are to be inserted into the slots at the turnstyle. The grandchildren are under twelve and so travell free but at one of the stations  an attendant insists that their height belied their age. We simply walk to the next station and board the tram without a hitch.

Ride to nowhere tosses up a surprise

Boarding a tram we sit in it till the terminal station - a good way to see areas of a city not full of tourists, and to get a better feel of the local atmosphere. There seems to be nothing of significance there. We could just reboard the train and return, but that is not our style. So we alight and walk forward coming acoss University grounds, and yet another Mosque with ablutions set in a circle in a sunken area a couple of steps down.  Beyond is a huge public park. To my astonishment, we spy an aqueduct. Below one of the arches cars speed to and fro on a  highway. It is a Roman aqueduct that transported water to the various underground cisterns in Istanbul.

What does the aqueduct feed? A mind boggling underground cistern that reflects the history of Istanbul.  (See the blog on aqueducts and cisterns)

Tender scare and 1st train in 25 years: Luderitz, Namibia, 2014

There are ports and then there are ports.

When cruising on the sea we visit several ports. Some ports, as in Auckland, Amsterdam or Vancouver, are right in the city. We walk down the gangway into the port authority buildings, clear immigration( if not already done on board) and walk right into the city hub. Some ports are quite far out of the city and we may be shuttled to the city centre by a local bus company ( mostly free). Then there are ports that are not deep enough for huge ships to dock. These ports may have floating docks, connected to the mainland with a floating walkway. Then there are others in which the ship anchors in deeper waters and tenders passengers to and from the shore. Tendering simply means ferrying passengers to and fro in life boats. 

And we were tendered into Lüderitz in calm seas under clear skies.

Diamond boom and bust, a sip of the briny

We are in Luderitz, named after the German,  Adolf Lüderitz, who owned the land. In the early twentieth century. Diamond was discovered during construction of the railway line (in Kolmomskop, now a ghost town, buried under the shifting sand dunes of the Namib Desert, outside Lüderitz) and as a result the town boomed. The colourful colonial homes with the landscaped gardens and the Church are testament to it. But the terrain is rocky and not conducive to agriculture. 

Where do they get their drinking water? They only get about 2 cm of rainfall a year! As we walk around town we see women sweeping out sand.  Spying the town library we walk in and chat with the librarian. She enlightens us. The town has a salt water condensing plant, hence the drinking water. The day before they had experienced a severe sandstorm, not unusual, and the town has been practically swept clear not only because of the shipload of visitors but also. . . .

The train! The train!

The main thoroughfare, Bismark road, is lined with school children and townsfolk. They have been there for nearly an hour. We chat with them. They are thrilled that we were educators. They are expecting a train, the first in 25 years, which is probably delayed because the tracks would have been covered by the sand from the sand storm.  

While they patiently bear the heat and wait for the train we walk around the town along the colonial villas and all the way up to the church as well as the town's founder's home which is now a museum. We are impressed. We walk down the rocky outcrop, a lonely place (a couple were robbed of their ipad here and nothing could be done for the teens were swift-footed), before we come back into town just in time for the train's arrival. Its an ancient train and we can imagine the problems that can arise in such terrain and climate.

Buffeted, slammed, dashed

By lunch time we are all done with the excitement and so walk towards the dock to queue up for our tender, eagerly looking forward to a cold salad on board. While we were ashore the wind had picked up and there is now a considerable swell around the ship. It is a bumpy ride indeed. Our tender heaves from side to side. As the swells rise we bob like a cork. It gets worse. The sea turns its fury on us as we approach the boarding platform on the ship. In normal times the tender aligns itself against the boarding platform, we step from the tender onto the platform, climb up a few stairs and we are in the belly of the ship. But that isn't happening now. We are lashed, and dashed against the ship. Imagine how challenging it must have been for both the ship and tender pilots to keep their barks steady in a seething sea. Everybody in the tender has become quieter. We are hoping none of us gets sea sick. We know where the life-jackets are, if needed. We trust the crew. Finally some crew on the platform manage to haul in and secure the ropes from the tender to the bollards on the platform. As we gingerly walk towards the door we are told to wait till the gap narrows before hopping on to the steady surface. I manage it and so did many others . When the gap widens the crew and passengers wait patiently. The crew does a marvellous job in pulling passengers out of harm's way when just as they are about to hop across the gap widens. There was one near mishap. The passenger had one foot on the ship and another dangling in the gap. He was not light either. What strong hands must have pulled him to safety! What a well trained crew!

A very eventful and memorable day, indeed.

We have had many thrilling experiencess on the sea as in avoiding a cyclone, taking measures against pirates, being tossed by rogue waves in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, sailing through treacherous waters near the Falkland Islands and the capes at the bottom of Africa and South America,  and in the North Pacific Ocean off the Kamchatka Peninsula. Plenty to write about in future blogs.

 

Back to the Past: History and Literature

When we are almost at the end of our part tour of Great Britain having covered Pembroke, Roslaire, Dublin (distinguished by the likes of Yeats, Synge, Shaw, Joyce), Belfast, Liverpool, Edinburgh( UNESCO World City of Literature) , Lake District ( the haunts of Coleridge and Wordsworth), Yorkshire (Sculpture Park) , Wakefield (setting for Oliver Goldsmith's lampoon), Stonehenge, Stratfort-upon-Avon  (Shakespeare's birthplace), Woodstock, Oxford and Cheltenham we arrive at Bath.

Rub your eyes, pinch yourself

Bath,  as the name suggests, is named after ,what else(?), baths, Roman baths. The World Heritage site is known as one of the great spa towns of Europe. During the Victorian era it was a popular destination for holiday makers. Ambling about we find our selves at the Circus, a crescent shaped building made up of 30 three storey Georgian terraced houses, once populated entirely by the elite. Then we stroll through what seems to be a busy street filled with cafes . And, lo and behold! I'm  rendered speechless when  Mr Darcy stands before me, and incredibly, with him is Elizabeth Bennet (identified by their Victorian era period costume)! Has my imagination gone wild? They are characters from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, my favourite author. Then it strikes me. She lived in Bath for a few years in the nineteenth century. The characters are beckoning us into The Jane Austen Centre, a museum that helps bring alive the Victorian Era in which Austen wrote. I'm so overwhelmed and totally immersed in the past that there's a buoyancy in my step now as I walk towards the historic Roman Baths, temporarily oblivious to the 21st century.

Quirky enthusiasts or heritage celebrants? 

As we drive from Cheltenham to Bath we stop by at Bleinhem Castle, birth place of Sir Winston Churchill. I now realise that it has featured in James Bond movies and period dramas. The extensive landscaped grounds are enchanting. What's  that movement behind the trees? No need to be a sleuth. Can't be harmful since the Unesco World Heritage site is definitely well guarded. But just out of curiosity, since my mind has registered something peculier, I edge closer. A group of men and women dressed in Victorian costume, all hatted and bonnetted and corsetted, sitting at a picnic table, are gingerly sipping tea and enjoying pastries and sandwiches! I didn't venture a conversation for I preferred to register the moment and imbed it into my subconscious literary self, to be "recollected in tranquility" in later years, taking the hint from William Wordsworth. 

Needless to say, it took a while before I could enjoy the landscaped garden, which was being set up to for a musical entertainment. I was somewhat more grounded by the time I entered the Malborough residence and the displays from Churchill's childhood and his artistic talent attested in his watercolours and hallmark cards.

Of, for, by the people

In one of our trips to the US we spend a few days with friends in Harrisburg.  The Pennsylvania Capitol building takes our breath away with its dazzling Parisian staircase,  imposing renaissance themes , murals, stained glass windows, etc. 

We are then encouraged to visit the Hershey Chocolate World nearby.  Taking the complimentary tour, somewhat like a children's fair ride in cars on rails, through the different stages of production, 'coated' by the aroma is an experience we would have enjoyed more had our grandchildren been with us. 

Putting Roal Dhal behind us we pay a vist to Gettysburg ( we hadn't realised it was that close to our host's home). Being a rainy day we only have a glimpse of the area in which the museum stands. This is where Abraham Lincoln made his famous speech on the nature of democracy. But as we are climbing the stairs we spy men and women in period costumes. Were they staff? Actually they happened to be patriots who had participated in the Veterans day celebration. There had been a parade just before we arrived, and of course, just before the rain. What we see upstairs is spell binding. It is a cyclorama made up of  massive panoramic paintings, about 50 feet high and at least 400 feet in circumference, hung in a 360 fashion that allows visitors to seemingly step inside a 'live'battle , replete with gunshots now and then and also wisps of smoke. This was created  before the days of mass communication through radio and TV, but the effect is not compromised ( perhaps only imax can recreate the same effect)!

Representing a cuisine.

When in Tallin we are greeted by waitresses in retro medieval  dresses. But this, of course, is to attract customers to try traditional cuisine.

Standing on ceremony in spite of tensions: political border pageantry

From Amritsar (where the famed Golden Temple is), India, we hire a car to take us to the border town of Attari 3km from the India-Pakistan border.. We will be watching the Beating Retreat, or Lowering of the flags, border ceremony. Our driver will wait for us at the parking lot in the town. The ceremony starts 2 hours before sun set and the crowds could be so big that if you are not early you will run the risk of being turned back. We are there at about 3pm. The crowd is growing. 

On a historic and celebrated road

I can't believe that I am standing on the Grand Trunk Road, the only road connecting India and Pakistan before 1967.One of Asia's oldest and longest roads, the GTR, linking Central Asia to the Indian Sub continent is said to be around 2500 years old,  and 2500 km long.  The road takes prominence in Rudyard Kipling's Kim. At the time of Independence in 1947, migrants from Pakistan entered India through this border crossing and vice versa. A staggering 12 to 15 million altogether. 

The long walk

People are milling about unclear as to how to proceed. And then, just like that, two lines form: one for males and the other for females. I have to be separated from the menfolk apparenty until after the show. Disgruntled but not surprised I join my line which is relatively small compared to that of the other sex. We go through a security check. Bags , cigarettes and lighters are not allowed. Great! I can breathe safe. The driver had already warned us about bags and so we left them in the car. I had only my camera without its bag. We are frisked. Then we walk into the secure area until we reach another curtained booth where we are frisked again. The Indian Border Forces are not going to take any risks given a few untoward incidents in the previous years.

The walk of about a km takes more than 20 mins. We reach the amphitheatre which is on our left. To our right is the office of the Border guards. The females are shown the section aboutb 50 metres from the gates at the border. Closer to the gate is the section for foreigners (we opted against it since we'd have to carry our passports). Next to our section, furthur from the gate, was reserved for males. On the other side of the road were chairs meant for families of military personnel. There must have been at least 1000 spectators on the Indian side. On the other side of the gate is the Pakistan (Wahga) amphitheatre, very sparsely filled. Its hard to believe that Lahore (Pakistan) is only 30 km away.  I lost sight of Drink.

. 

Rousing the audience

At exactly 4:00 pm the emcee ( a prominent cricketer), dressed in white, welcomes the crowd. He is greeted with great enthusiasm by the crowd which has brought flags and sports faces painted in green, orange and white. Patriotic songs fill the area. The patriotism is contagious.

Military precision

Then the ceremonial guards appear. They appear in a variety of uniforms, all punctilous. The men in khaki uniforms sport moustaches (the Pakistanis are paid to groom them in a particular style!)and turbans with stiff fan folds forming the plumage atop. ( The Pakistan soldiers, visible from our seats, are dressed in black.) Marching involves kicking high and stomping hard. The  incredibly precise and resonant inspiring military  performance  lasts for around 40 mins. In a particular segment women from the audience formed groups and, one after another, run towards the border proudly holding up the Indian flag, provided by the border service. A similar ceremony with battle cries simultaneously takes place on the other side of the border. 

Undisguised hostility expressed tacitly

Just as the sun is about to set  patriotic cries reach a crescendo. Decorous stern-faced guards march towards the border gate, again stomping heavily and kicking high, as if determined to unnerve their Pakistani counterparts. When the gates are opened, the march ends with the soldiers' facing ( literally glaring at)each other ( perhaps reflecting the undercurrent hostility) at the border. The guards salute each other, exchange brisk handshakes and then  lower the flags in coordination. The gates close. 

It is already dark  and,  gladly, as I walk out towards the town, I spot Drink.