The other side of Russia and medical evacuation in bizarre conditions

Oct 2018

From one land mass to another 

We leave Seward, Alaska and are sailing along the edge of the Bering Sea (the divide between the two largest landmasses on Earth: Eurasia and the Americas) where it meets the Pacific Ocean, towards Petropavlosky( Kamchatka Peninsula) along the Eastern Coast of Russia, before cruising south towards Japan( warmer weather).We have a few pleasant  sea days enjoying the calm seas and sun rises and sun sets, reading, lounging on deck chairs and conversing with fellow cruisers.

Smiling, happy Russians

We are tendered into the Russian Town. The first thing that amazes us is the relaxed citizens, laughing with their children and sporting broad smiles -- a stark contrast to our experience in St Petersburg. The town along the bay where the museum is is rather quiet.  We meet a young couple who are happy to talk to us about their home with a smattering of English. It is the weekend after all and so the tourists have the town practically to themselves, while the local populace is enjoying the beach and the Esplanade. The area's undulating land calls for wide staircases leading to various little parks, teeming with plants and shade trees,at different levels. Like in any city some of the stairs and buildings are in need of repair. Overall the theatre, museum and other important buildings and monuments face the bay  with pictureqe hills as backdrop. 

Iconic statues and volcanoes

At central square, presided over by a statue of Lenin, along the shore of a picturesque, placid lake reflecting the volcanos (Koryakskaya Sopka) and the hills surrounding the town, people of all ages sail various types of miniature boats. There is also a statue of Peter and Paul , after whom the town is named. Apart from that there are two red buildings that seem like cottages. They are actually 'mini' hotels. 

Will malls and restaurants be any busier?

Heading out away from the bay we take Lenin avenue towards the commercial part of town. We climb a hill to the Holy Trinity Cathedral, an Orthodox church, the nave replete with icons and paintings of saints, its cupolas  topped by  typical onion-shaped domes  where crosses are mounted. The church is undergoing renovations and hence the other wings are closed to the public. Wandering around the building we are greeted by a scenic view of the Avacha Bay with our ship just 'below' us. It's a long walk from here into the city centre but along the way we stop at the bus stops and tread along paths between trees in their autumn splendour, passing by stark University buildings. We enter a shopping mall at whose entrance is an ice cream parlour. Within the mall few stores are open, but fur stoles and coats dominate. There are very few customers. A supermarket is well stocked and inviting. Outside there is a huge car park ( but where are the weekend shoppers?)and beside it a bus station. We see more activity here. In the alleys there are also vendors with little portable carts loaded with cheaper clothing, footwear, etc. 

Coordinated effort in a medical emergency 

That evening we set sail towards Japan. All seems to be going smoothly until the seas seem to pick up. And then we stop. A guest on board needs immediate medical attention. The services available on board will not suffice. We are in deep waters within tendering distance from another small port along the Kamchatka peninsula. A tender is lowered into the waters and the patient is gingerly lowered into it. The wind is picking up. It seems like a mist coming up too. The waves are getting bigger. Will the tender make it to the shore? After what seems like ages and some tense moments, the patient is transfered to the waiting ambulance. The tender manoeuvres through an increasingly turbulent sea and we keep our fingers crossed for its safe return to ship. Even before the tender is winched up back to its location on the ship we see a helicopter landing near the ambulance and then airlifting the patient to, we hope, a hospital with advanced medical facilities. 

By a hairbreath: Bizarre weather

The seas are in a turmoil now. The port is shrouded in mist. We shudder to think what would have happened had the helicopter not left before visibility reduced and the winds picked up. We see a puff over the hills. It's a live volcano, the ashes causing the haze. The waves are gathering force. They are getting taller by the minute. Waves meet and add to their height for a few moments and then diverge, foamy tips, spumes and crests going every which way. The waves seem to fan out as they curve down creating curtain after curtain of spray marching across the ocean. Occasional breaks in the clouds let in sunbeams that are split into rainbow colours by the plumes and spray.

We sit on the deck watching in detached fascination as the solid gray-green mass swells and turns into glass like walls of water droplets magically transforming terror into beauty.

We must have seen at least a hundred such beauties within 20 mins.

ABCs of Orangestad, Aruba

Anything other than the stretches of sunny beach ?

When we did the Panama cruise to the Caribbean in 2013, Orangestad, the capital of Aruba,  was one of our ports of call. Most travellers to the Caribbean head for the beaches. 

DrINK and I are least comfortable on the beaches simply because they are mostly treeless and too hot (we are baked enough back home). But surely there's more to the country. We find a group of people at the dock engaging a van for a tour of Orangestad, the capital, They could accommodate us. Our driver, a cheerful lady, does her promos - how wonderful the sights are and how popular the beaches are. We are prepared to be amazed.

ABCs

We are already aware that the island we are in belongs to the Netherlands ( a 9 hr 30min flight away), that also includes Bonaire and Curaçao, thus the name ABC islands. Our guide drives us along the beaches, the residential areas. We are made acutely aware of the Dutchness of it all. Even at the port the kiosks have unmistakable baroque Dutch characteristcs  - little ornamentation, symmetrical façades, flowing curves. The same is reflected in the tombstones. In the main shopping thoroughfare domes are also incorporated. There is lots of colour as we have seen in Dutch colonies in Luderitz(Namibia), Medan (Indonesia) and Malacca (Malaysia) to name a few. 

This rock is an attraction?

The biggest source of amusement comes next. We arrive at a park, alight and follow the guide. A few feet away there is a rock, more like a pile of rocks with a gap in the middle that seems like a cave. You walk up the steps to the top of the rock which is only a couple of metres high, about two storeys. This is a view point! We see a residential area spread out before us. 

Not a chance of losing your bearings

The trees are permanently bent in the direction of the wind, becoming a natural compass. They are the famous Divi Divi trees, unique to Aruba climate and terrain. They all point in a southwesterly direction due to the trade winds that blow across the island from the north-east.

Iguana soup anyone?

As we drive around the suburbs we have goat crossings and several iguana sightings. A few crossed our paths. It does not worry our driver. She shrugs it off, 'It'll makes good soup. Next time you visit come have dinner with me. I make a m_e_a_n soup.'  Check out the anatomy of an iguana and you'll see why it is highly prized for virility. Apparently iguana soup is common fare. 

Licence plates stand out 

We notice that the number plates are all in orange with white lettering, but don't think beyond that until we walk around the town. Many souvenir  shops had number plates in various colors for sale! Here's the low down. All vehicles in Aruba,  as in any other country, display licence plates as proof of registration. Owners renew their licence every year. In most countries the plate carries a validation sticker for the year renewed. Not in Aruba. How do you know if someone has not renewed his vehicle registration? Look at the colour of the plate. Guessed it ? They come in different colors, one for each year! The year we visited it was orange, the colour after which the city was probably named. If you have the wrong colour everybody will know you have not renewed your licence.That's  not all. The plate is valid only for the first half of the year. After that a metal tab is added to show validity for the 2nd half and that tab sports a reverse colour scheme.

Cool: Aruba Aloe

I've seen aloe in pots. My mother had one in a pot. But a whole field? Of course, tours almost always include a sovenir shop stop. But our stop is unusual. We are in Aruba Aloe factory where we're allowed to see how the gel is extracted and made into beauty and medical products. A must have for sun bathers. And, of course, visitors are keen to buy from the company which processes the finest Aloe in the world. The Aloe is grown and harvested and processed by the factory. The factory also has a museum because it has a history -- it was started in 1890.

Unabashed

We have time to ourselves after the tour so we walk around the colorful and vibrant shopping thoroughfare and then along the beach front hotels and beside the cars parked along the road beside the beach. At one point we were simply speechless and quickly turned to look elsewhere trying to suppress giggles while raising our eyebrows in disbelief. Right in front of us and elderly man opens the hatchback door of his wagon, pulls off his speedo and casually pulls on clothes. Too old to care, or is it a commonplace act? I  certainly do not want to find evidence to prove the latter.

Mother tongue unleashed

In the shopping area we come across a Swatch ( Swiss watches) kiosk. We speak to the salesman who seems to be an ethnic Indian. The accent gave it all away. He spoke our mother tongue, to our mutual delight. Tamil words rolled off our tongues as though unleashed with a vengeance after a few months of social exchanges predominantly in English.

The source:Wine, poetry, beauty in Vaucluse, France

Drawn by a Ruin

On yet another outing in Provence, France, our hosts take us to a town that had a canal running throught it. We are in Vaucluse, a valley surrounded by high cliffs. We spy a castle in ruins high above us, and so, what do we do but trek up the hill placing our feet gingerly on solid rock, inadvertently rolling some loose stones downhill.  On top we are treated to great views of the valley. We have to be more careful on our trek down for we certianly do not care for a roll! We are just being overly cautious so as not to jeopardise the rest of our travels over the next few months. 

Drunk by the scene,not the wine

Back on almost level ground we walk along what seems like a small lake surrounded by lush greenery, including fig trees. It's a haven for ducks and other birds. The water is green. The sky is blue. Atmospheric temperature is in the soothing twenties. Such balmy weather is ideal  for a walk exploring the terrain and crisscrossing the waters. Our hosts are eager for lunch, as much as we are. We find ourselves sitting at lunch at the waterside restaurant. Two ducks happily float beside us, turning their heads towards us every now and then, as though they belonged to our group. We are served, we share jokes ( I cling on to the few words in French - forget the grammar- that I'm familiar with and my mind connects them into a somewhat coherent whole, enough to give me the gist and hence guess the context, and genuinely respond to the conversation).

Our hosts order wine for themselves. It is a standing joke among us that DrINK and I ( teetotallers) do not appreciate the hardwork put in by the vineyards in the Provence. "Bon Sante" to the wine industry!

Powerful wellspring -- water and Petrachian poetry

A short, but not so laboured, walk uphill leads us to what this town is famous for. The waters we saw were of the Sorgue River and we were approaching the source of the river, a spring located deep down at the mouth of a cave!  What more, it is ceaselessly prodigious! Standing at the cave entrance, dominated from above by the castle ruins, and the cool clear waters pooling from a bottomless chasm below is postcard picture perfect. 

I was stunned by a plaque for Petrach, the Italian sonneteer,set up by the Dante Society. Petrarch, famous for his sonnets, fell in love with a married woman, Laura, and spent the rest of his life pining for her. He found solace at Vaucluse and hence his most productive years as a poet before he became a Poet Laureate of France, turning down the same honour in Italy, his birthplace.

It is then time to explore the downtown area. On our way we enter a reconsructed paper mill and are treated to a look at how paper is made the old fashioned way. The walk also takes us to a glass blower who makes a little bird for my host upon her request. 

L'Isle-sur-la-Sorgue

The walk leads us to the main street of the town which is called an island because the Sorgue river splits into two streams here. The shallow, calm and green stream along which we walk is something like an esplanade where people dip their feet in the water as they sit along the steps on the banks and enjoy a snack or a book. Almost every store-front is attractive for most are antique shops , home decor shops, waterfront cafes and restaurants. Adding to the charm are footbridges and the several working water wheels that are testament to the city's wealthy industial past. 

From natural springs into fantastical fountains: celebration of ingenuity, Austria, Russia

Artful and crafty:Trick fountains, Hellbrunn, Salsburg

Playful host

Driving just a few kilometers from Salzburg of Sound of Music renown, we arrive at a seemingly unassuming palace of sorts. The interior with its frescoes on the walls and ceilings of the spacious rooms are reminiscent of the Roman renaissance painters. The Palace had been purpose built to entertain and so was never really occupied per se. The  Prince-Archbishop of Austria certainly had a playful side. He played practical jokes on his unsuspecting noble guests in a  palace built solely for entertainment. The gardens was a hive of tricks.Tantalized to sit at the supper table?  Lured along the walkway leading to an enchanted cave? Frozen by the irresistable beauty of the scupltures from Greek and Roman mythology incorporated into the fountains?  Be warned. Even if you already know what will happen, you will be thorougly drenched, when you least expect it, by the hidden nozzles which shoot water around and over you, or startle you with a cascade  from right above you! Imagine the amused face of the host! Children love to either dodge or surrender completely with glee. 

Note: The guides remain dry! Do they have control?

A Baroque city sprung into action by a natural spring

But, wait, there's  more. A mechanical theatre (no sophisticated computer programmes or remote controls) that incorporates  amazing musical instruments, simulations and dioramas, powered by nothing other than natural water pressure. The  water operated organ that accompanies the mechanical theater, playing an opera song, was built in 1750. It still works without a hitch!  The 163 figures, placed on several rotating tiers, depict the life of a small Baroque city. Figures carry out everyday activities like drawing water, sawing, milling etc.

Along a narrow canal  are 5 dioramas of water driven figures each repeatedly carrying out an everyday task. 

The budding engineer can take a peek behind the scenes to observe the mechanics behind the working parts. All the fountains and dioramas are fed by a natural spring guided through wooden pipes. An engineerIng marvel, indeed.

Man made wonder: Peterhof, St Petersburg 

Begrudging host

Visiting Russia is not so easy. Visas are complicated. Immigration officials do not smile. Yet, it has a rich history and so we book a shore excursion with our cruise line. They took care of the visas for a hefty amount. St Petersburg is known for the Church of the Spilled Blood, the Hermitage, Catherine's winter palace chock-full of world famous paintings and, of course, Peterhof.

It's a long drive from the city along a canal, a flyover, some dilapidated areas in the outskirts, and then a vast expanse of flush greenery. We drive through a treed avenue and gather at the  Grand Cascade with its gold figures glittering with the sunshine and water. The first thing we do is enter the palace. We are relieved of our jackets and bags at the cloakroom. A dour faced woman hands us tokens. We have our headphones to follow our guide's instructions. We enter room after opulent room, each seemingly more resplendant than the other, each with a theme. The walls are covered in printed satin and tapestry over which a thin plastic sheet is laid so that nothing gets tainted by itchy fingers. The ornate details and furnishing are jealously guarded. The attendants are hawk-eyed in protecting the extravagant artifacts. Even though the castle is small it is elaborately appointed. 

Dramatic effect

It is the gardens that delight us more because we are not confined or closely monitored. A 20m jet of water shoots up from the golden lion's mouth held open by Samson, 200 or more other gilded figures ( dolphins, lions etc), 64 fountains, at different levels, surrounding it, flanked by ladder cascades. This is the Grand Cascade  -- a grandiose entrance to the Palace via the stair case curving around it. Adding to the colossal effect is a 12 meter wide canal leading from it to the sea.

There are other cascades and fountains like the Chess board or the Pyramid and even a trick fountain which is activated when an unwary guest sets his foot on a paving tile, dousing him with a cold spray. There are a lot more fountains to marvel at in the gardens but our time is limited because we are on a paid tour and besides we are already exhausted by sensory overdose. 

Astonishing revelation

What is that cave like structure underneath and behind the cascade? 

It houses the enormous pipes that channel water to the fountains. 

Where does the water come from? 

From the hills 24 km away.

Is the water pumped into the pipes?

It runs through locks and canals into reservoirs on the upper terrace.

What makes the jets shoot as high as 21 ms?

Pumps?

No.

Other water lifting devices?

No.

Clue?

The nature of the terrain and fantastic engineering harnessing potential energy. Or simply, gravity.

 

A breath of freshness in the ancient: cave dwellings, forts and castles and a prehistoric village.

Travelling with well-meaning non-English speakers

We spent nearly a month with friends in St Chamas, Provence, France. Almost every weekend we travelled, in their campervan, to various  historic towns in the province exploring forts, waterfalls, waterways and castles. Our communication was a little inadequate, to say the least, because, except for one, everybody spoke only French and not every bit of conversation was translated. Hence we hardly knew where we were going. Sometimes the sign boards helped. A lot of it began to make sense long after the trip. The impressions came first.

Modern living in a medieval setting: troglodytes

In an earlier blog I mentioned the ancient aqueduct, L'Horologue, topped by a clock tower and the views of the lagoon that hosts yacht races. Little did we realize that the caves in the cliff that bisected the town were actually occupied. The dwellings, nestled into the rock, are called troglodytes. Their windows look out over picturesque views of the lagoon. The entrances to the houses face an alley on the cliff top village, the steps at the aqueduct leading up to them. A beautiful flavour of the Medieval on the outside and contemporary comforts inside. Its like you're in fairy land, tiptoeing, expecting to see an elf pop up just around the corner.

Wine Cellar 

Another of our friends' friends live on a large tract of land with two horses and a few goats,whose pen had a camera so the owners could keep an eye on them while they frequently  campervanned to various picturesque villages and towns in the Provence. Most interestingly, in their back yard they had a cave with an ancient door fitted to the entrance. A natural walk -in wine cellar!

Artefacts in modern housing :Martigues, The Venice of Provence

We visited one of the villages, Martigues, along the lagoon to meet our friend's friends who lived in a beautiful house they had designed themselves. From the kitchen we looked into their backyard vegetable garden and their chickens. They surprised us by offering us a ride on the lagoon on their boat. 

Familiarly known as the the Venice of Provence, the village, criss crossed by canals and charming bridges and lined by docks, lies between the Mediterranean  sea and the Sea of Matigues (aka Etang de Berre), the largest inland sea water lake in Europe. Artefacts from the Tholon archaeological site are on display on a nondescript street in a charming cottage like setting behind a glass wall. 

Le beaux-de-Provence

Little did we know that one of the most beautiful villages of France, sitting on top of a rocky spur, that attracts1.5  million tourists a year, has only 400 permanent residents!

In Mideaval  times up to 4000 people lived here. From the outside all the houses seem like ruins with exposed rock walls, but many of them have been made liveable for modern times. Walking down the narrow streets we are treated to great views of the Camargue and Arles where Van Gogh temporarily resided. 

Arles and the Camargue: Van Gohs refuge

During the more than fourteen months that Van Gogh spent in Arles, he created innumerable paintings and drawings, characterised by bold use of colours and thick application of paint that is now considered a hallmark of 19th century painting.

We walk along the Canal du Midi and have lunch under the trees. We later watch a lock system in use in Beziers( described in another post) before we retire to a cottage in Parque National de Camargue, a protected swamp in the Rhone Delta. We are practically in the marshes frequented buy more than 4000 species of birds, facing brine ponds that reflect the twilight. That setting would certainly inspire artists.

Grottes de Cales

Yet another outing with even more local friends, including teenagers, we find ourselves trekking through the woods, slightly uphill, passing a Chapel, onto a Roman 'road' through a 13th century gate, leading into an ancient settlement made up of cliff dwellings that were inhabited for over 5000 years. The walls and floors are all smoothly worn out! There’s a fair amount of walking and climbing to see everything. We climb into every one we come across, the teens guessing what each room would have been used for since there is no posted explanatory information anywhere. 

We gathered from our friends that the dwellings are carved out of sandstone. The more than 58 distinct and identifiable caves are replete with window openings, niches for storage, posts between 'rooms', porch extensions and ingenious gulleys to divert, route and collect water. There are also animal keeps, a communal hall and food pits which would have had wooden lids on top. It feels like a perfect hideout being nestled between high cliffs topped by  the woods. Some of the dwellings offer fantastic views of the surrounding countryside way below. Good for reconnaissance!

Sillans-la-Cascade: Castle buidings repurposed, Napoleon's  lunch

A stroll in the center of the village, a maze of lively picturesque lanes, before we trek to the waterfall, takes us to Castellane castle completely rebuilt in the 18th century. It now belongs to the sparsely populated  municipality which renovated it. The souvenir shop hands us lavender potpourris, something I've always hoped to have someday! Walking along the ramparts takes us to the 11th century medieval pentagonal tower. One of the houses with exposed stones is where Napoleon stopped to lunch on his return from the island of Elba.    

Deepest Gorge in France

A few days later we drive to Quinson. Our friends, avid sailors, hire a motor boat and there we are sailing on the incredibly breathtaking shimmering turquoise waters (the kind we have experienced in the glacial lakes of Banff National Park in Canada, and the kind in Bora Bora of which we had only a distant view since the captain of our cruise ship had to skip it) of the Gorges du Verdon in France, carved by the Verdon River, which flows 30 km emptying into the man-made  Lac de Sainte-Croix. The limestone cliffs  rise high above us on both sides. Our friend who has trekked the many trails along the cliffs avows that the sights are spectacular from above. We meet kayakers and canoers who at times stop by along one or the other of the coves with a sandy beach for their picnic. 

High above the cliffs cave openings are visible with clearly marked paths downhill to the coves. All prehistoric dwellings.

Before we sail back along the same route we have an excellent lunch prepared by a British couple in their charming restaurant. 

Back where we boarded, we spend the evening exploring the quiet village coming across prehistoric dwellings and the escargot (exotic snail) farm.

The Verdon River gets is colour from a specific algae and fluoride.

I hope to write about the waterways and the very interesting people we met, while in the Provence, in upcoming posts.