SAS Travelogue-Kenya

SAS Travelogue-Kenya

by Rebecca Smith

Jambo!! OK, so in Kenya, day numero uno….I didn’t do anything. I had 6 hrs of dock time. How cool is that?!?!? Anywho, that night I went out with Shawn and about 18 other people. We took a matatu (a 16 seater van like vehicle) and had to pile in like a clown car. We drove all over the well maintained roads (yeah freakin’ right) of Mombasa looking for a Swahili restaurant. Our driver took us to a pizza place. OK, time to explain to the driver the difference between pizza and Swahili food. Aha, eureka, and the like, the man discovers we don’t want food we can get at home and proceeds to drive us to the edge of town to this restaurant slash nightclub. Fabulous. We ate then went dancing. It was fun, they played a lot of American hip hop and then some Kenyan variations of hip hop or dance music. It was so much fun. Until the scary Maasai man started following me around. They have an affinity for pale skinned wives. I’ve been offered a dowry of 40 goats and two cows in exchange for my hand in marriage. Sadly, I had to decline, but boy I could have used those goats. Then some German guy tried to purchase Shawn for the evening by way of the waiter. We realized earlier on in the evening that a large number of the women patronizing the club were, shall we say “working girls.” Most of the other patrons were scheevy old foreign men. Thus, we were rather insulted by the insinuation of this German man’s invitation, but then when he came to our table himself we just kind of told him off, and he didn’t get it. So when we ran away practically screaming and he followed us, we were at a loss for plans to lose our scheezy German tail. After that, we stuck to the group until we went home. The next day I left for my safari in Tsavo. The vans seat seven and have a roof that lifts up so we can stand for maximum photo ops. It was like a two hour ride to the gate to Tsavo East. On the way to the lodge, we did a game drive through the park. We saw lots of elephants, who in Tsavo are red because the soil there is a red clay. That is also the reason that every time I got out of the van I had to wash my face because it had turned clay red. We saw zebras, a lot of guinea fowl, a lot of antelope, and these tiny little mini deer called dik dik. Then we went to the lodge to eat and check in. Then we did another game drive. Then we ate. Then the safari leader gave a lecture. Then we slept. This is what a safari is like: eat, sleep, game drive, repeat. On our afternoon game drive we saw a den of lionesses and their cubs noshing on a zebra carcass. That was pleasant. It was really cool, but we are a bloodthirsty gang and wanted to see the hunt in action, no such luck. The next day we game drove our way through to Tsavo West. We saw hippos!!!! YAY!!!! This whole safari thing almost didn’t seem real. It felt like we were in a zoo staring at the animals and taking pictures. But I learned that the animals often migrate and leave the park by way of something called a corridor. Most of the park is cordoned off wherever it touches a township for several reasons. They want to limit the amount of damage done to property by the animals who get out of the park and they want to cut down on poaching. In Kenya, if you are caught poaching you can be shot on sight. But there are two types of poaching, there is the traditional poaching for commercial reasons with selling done on the black market and there is subsistence poaching where the hunting is of small game that will be used for food by the poorer townspeople. Subsistence poaching is still poaching, but not really, and is allowed in Kenya. It is the commercial poachers with their AK-47’s that are to be shot on sight. I think that is a very effective law, when poachers are caught, but the reserve is so large, it is impossible to police the entirety of it, so a lot of poaching still occurs. Thankfully Kenya has banned the sale of ivory and other by products of poaching so that it makes the market much easier to control. Not much else to say about my safari; it was fun and really cool, but nothing very exciting to tell about. Its something you have to experience. Whenever we saw a warthog we sang “When I was a young warthog…” from “Lion King.” Also, we saw a cheetah, but it was like a mile away, so it looked like a spot in the savanna grasses. We did go to a Rhino Sanctuary, and saw no rhinos, but that’s because there are only 50 in there and they had to be imported because poaching made rhinos extinct in Kenya. And we did stay at a lodge where they put out leopard bait, but we saw no leopards. By the end of the safari, we told our driver, George, that if it was elephants he could keep driving. We came up with a mantra: “Unless it’s killing it, eating it, or doing it, don’t wake us up.” I thought that was very effective. So after our 5 hr long drive home over the well paved (HA HA HA) roads of Kenya, I was excessively tired and opted for a night in. The next day, our last day in Kenya, proved to be quite interesting. I went shopping outside the ship. In each port, the people of the city, especially the taxi drivers and shopowners, know we are coming. I don’t know how, but they all know when we are coming and how long we will be there and that we are stupid Americans with money to burn. Anyways, this information leads to much hustle and bustle outside the dock where our ship is located in every port, usually a lot of hustling and a bit of bustling. Anywho, in Mombasa, a mini open air market sprang up and the “shopowners” (I call them this because as you walk past they invite you to visit their shop, however, the definition of a shop must be different in Kenya, as what was actually there was a sheet on the ground littered with carvings, batiks, or jewelry, no actual structure of any sort to denote shop, just a sheet…on the ground. I took a bag full of stuff like t-shirts, soap, lotion, perfume samples, shampoo/conditioner samples, fun size cereal boxes, an old not very good cd player, a calculator, and other stuff, and NO CASH!!!! I traded my little heart out and got a bunch of stuff that when I got back to the ship, all I could say was “Why did I buy this?!?!” So now I have a bunch of junk from Africa instead of a bunch of junk from the States. Woo hoo. Did you know people really use the phrase “hakuna matata?” I mean I know it was an actual phrase (some girl asked a Kenyan guy if they got that phrase from our movie “The Lion King” …now that’s dumb), but I thought it was like Jambo and they only use it with tourists, but no, they use it all the time!!! So everyone, Hakuna Matata!!! Waheri from Kenya!!! Write again in South Africa. PS—sorry this was sooo late, but the internet in Kenya does NOT work, at all. So oh well, and I spent like $20 on the internet on the ship so I could register, so I thought you wouldn’t mind if I didn’t spend an extra fortune writing a journal entry for Kenya. Thanks love ya, buh bye!!!!!

SAS Travelogue-Madras (Chennai)

SAS Travelogue-Madras (Chennai)

by Rebecca Smith

I have to take periodic breaks from writing this to go be sick. That is the power of India’s effect on me. So let’s go in chronological order, that we you can have the similar roller coaster ride of experience that I had in India. I wouldn’t want to shove all positive or all negative at you all at once. OK, so arrival in India, we got in at some ungodly hour of the morning as usual. The difference being this time, we were not able to disembark from the ship until after 1 pm as a result of the customs officials and the passport process. Highly inefficient or just overly cautious, I am not sure, but it took forever. Not to mention that in order to either get on or off the ship we must produce our passport and several documents. Then there were three other gates with customs officials and a similar process before we even saw an Indian street. So our first experience in Chennai was attempting to exit the port gates. Auto (a mini taxi on three wheels) drivers are all over doing their best to scam you. We just wanted to cross the street to get to the bank. In order to do this you had to go across on overpass. There were like 15 men at the stairs waiting for us and telling us that the overpass was broken and that we had to follow them. We were wary, but they would not let us pass, so we started to follow them. Then we saw other people head up the stairs. Also, the men were leading us further away from the exit and closer to a large number of autos parked down the road. We promptly turned around and went up the overpass despite their screams. As soon as we reached the other side, we were greeted by more aggressive, but equally sneaky auto drivers. They wanted to drive us to the bank because we were unsure of its location, but I know I had seen the sign from the ship. They wanted us to give them a dollar for a ride that would have taken us across the street. That was not going to happen. So we walked to the bank, and they followed us the whole way, even into the bank, and watched as we took money out of the ATM. Fine, as long as they didn’t try to take it. Well, they didn’t, not overtly at least. They were willing to provide the service of driving us around. So, my friend Shawn and I hopped in one and asked him to take us to the market. After an hour of being driven around in the oppressive heat of Chennai, he dropped us off in the middle of the street and demanded that we each give him $10 USD. 1, I didn’t even have that much money on me, in USD. 2, there was hella no way I was gonna pay him that much, especially for dropping me off in the middle of nowhere, and not where I asked to be driven. 3, he told us it would cost us 50 rupees before we got in, thus that was the agreement Shawn and I were willing to enact, no more, but no less either. He said he misspoke when he said 50 rupees. I said no he damn well didn’t. He yelled at us and said that our friends paid that much. I said no friend of mine would be that stupid, handed him 100 rupees (double what he originally told us), and walked away, only to discover that I had no idea where I was. So Shawn and I just started walking down some street with the cows and dogs. She decided to ask someone where Spencer Plaza was, and they told us it was 2 km down a different road. We told him that our auto driver wanted us to give him a lot of money for dropping us off in the middle of nowhere, so he got us another auto and negotiated the price for us and told him to take us to the right place. And so it was that she and I finally reached our destination. Spencer Plaza was interesting. The first shopowners to wave at us received our patronage. It turned out to be a Kashmir carpet store and they had a whole bunch of other things. Plus, if they didn’t have it there, their brother or cousin or uncle owned another shop around the corner. So they were really nice and told us where to go, and gave us “special discount,” just like every other shopowner in the world claims to give you. They made us sit down and have soda and tea with them and talk to them and gave Shawn a pretty pendant. I bought a carpet and some pillow cases, which PS Mom, I shipped home and they said to expect them within a few days. It is coming thru DHL. OK, so there is some positive. That night we rushed back to the ship to make it to the Welcome Reception. This was tough, because our auto driver wanted to take us shopping at the government shops which would give him a commission for taking us there. We were running late and only wanted to get back to the ship. So the struggle began. We finally reached the ship, where he demanded $5 from each of us. I was ready to kill someone by the time I actually got back to the ship. The Welcome Reception. This was nice. They gave us all garlands of jasmine and flowers, put a binhdi of sinhdor on our foreheads and blessed us with rosewater. It was lovely. There was a buffet of idly, dosa, sambar, curry, and I don’t know what else. It was ok. A professor from Madras University spoke. A student performed some classical South Indian dancing while the professor interpreted some of the moves for us. We spoke to other students from the university. It was interesting. Other female students were drawing mendhi in henna on our hands. Mine is finally starting to fade, but its still there. Next day, I went on a service project at the Andra Mahila Orthopedic Home. It was a live in school for children with disabilities. We were there to clean up the garden and paint murals. We went on a tour of the facilities first. We met a boy who was afflicted with I think MS. He had control of very few motor skills, but could use his feet for many things. He demonstrated some of his computer artwork for us. The computer had not been altered in any way because he said no one in the real world would alter it for him, so he wanted to learn how to use it without alteration. His artwork was amazing. I am not an artist, but I feel confident that his work would rank among many that can claim full use of their limbs. Later, I helped paint a mural in one of the classrooms and we had some of the students help us because it was their classroom and we wanted them to feel like they participated and that the final product was something they would like. They kept calling myself and the other girls “sister” and didn’t speak much English so it was challenging. It was a long day, and rather exhausting, but it was a fascinating experience and I was glad to spend time with the kids. It is inspiring to see the conditions that they survive and succeed despite. The next day, we departed for a homestay through the local Rotary club. This was an event that was planned to last for 3 days and 2 nights, so I expected that it would be intense and I would learn a lot. Well, hmmmm, not exactly. The first day our, I had a roommate for this homestay named Ashley, host picked us up and drove us to Adyar, a sort of beach suburb of Madras, about 30 minutes from the city center. He dropped us off at the local Pizza Hut where we bought ourselves lunch and then walked to an English bookstore and hung out there because it was air conditioned while we waited for our host to come get us. So not the typical Indian experience I was hoping for. I was beginning to regret my decision to sign up for this homestay. Vinay, I know, I could have called your family, but I signed up for this homestay in August, whereas you sent me your uncle’s number a week ago, so now I know for next time. Anyways, so our host picks us up and then drives to his wife’s shop; she is a tailor and makes sarees and salvaar kameez (a sort of dress-like shirt to be worn with pants). Very nice stuff, and it was nice to meet her, but we just sat there in her shop, with not much to do, so I observed. One thing that was interesting to note is that many people of a higher caste or social status in India have servants. These servants are very quiet and fade into the background. They are never thanked or treated to typical social courtesies like please and excuse me, only ordered about and only expected to speak when spoken to, they perform menial labor tasks, like diswashing, cleaning, fetching. They are referred to as “my boy” or “I have a girl to do that.” Very different from anything I’ve ever experienced. I would always say thank you and the like, and noticed that no one else did. I thought it must be kind of degrading to not even be thought of as a person but a possession. My host family was always quick with the change purse, as I guess they see money as more important than dignity. It was almost insulting. I know I need to view other cultures with an open mind and understand that things are different here, but a culture and religious group that claim to be very accepting and open minded are rather status minded and very adherent to their caste system. My host father astutely observed that “in India, all people are born equal, its just that some are born more equal than others.” It is much like the American problem of liberty versus equality, but at least we understand the conflict between those two values. In India, it seems that equality is an important value, but only for those who were born to a certain family, inheriting social status. That night, we went to a Rotary club meeting where all the other homestay students were gathered with their families. Well, our host father got us a ride with someone else. So when we got there, I tried to find someone to compare notes with. Luckily, Shawn was there, and she had a similar strange experience to share with me. She was also merely dropped off at the meeting. She told us that her host father, earlier that day, was sitting in front of their coffee table about 6 inches from his glass of water, and yet called for his wife on the opposite side of the house to come and hand it to him. Not my idea of equality. So we sat together and wallowed in misery about our decision to partake in this particular activity. Now, not to give you the wrong idea. Both of our families were perfectly nice and accommodating, but we entered this with certain expectations, especially after my fabulous homestay experience in Japan. This experience, so far, was falling sadly short of those expectations. After departing from this Rotary meeting, we were picked up by our host father and driven to a second Rotary meeting, where the governor spoke for an HOUR. Arrrrggggghhhhhh. Then we had to meet all these people, and many were rather insulting telling me that Americans are too promiscuous, too fat, too lazy, too ignorant, and various other plays on this. Fine, if you have those stereotypes, but keep them to your damn self when talking to an American. And they were all dirty old men. And we had to shake all their hands, which they had been eating with, so I had very sticky hands by the time I left. It was gross, and hopefully a gross misrepresentation of manners in Tamil Nadu. OK, must run and be sick, be right back. OK, so anywho....later that night our host father gave us the paper in English to read. He was talking to us about the sniper in D.C., so I feel safer here in India than if I were at school. Anyways, then we got on to the subject of 9/11. He started to tell us about this conspiracy theory he read about from an American writer. It basically talked about the improbability of the towers falling in the fashion that they did, because of the structure and physical makeup of the buildings. He said they fell more like if they had imploded than if they were just burning. He explained the chemical and physical impossibilities to us, because he is an engineer. He said there is speculation of a government conspiracy, or at the very least, the Al Qaeda and Osama bin Laden are not the responsible parties for such an organized and highly technical operation being that they are a troop of nomadic, ill equipped guerillas residing in mountains and caves. This I was all willing to swallow. I mean how am I to know who is responsible. I was not there; I can not be certain of anyone's guilt or innocence. I am not omniscent. However, he also claimed that perhaps there was no one actually present on the planes used as guided missiles. This is where my roommate and I lost our cool. I spent weeks reading obituaries and articles dedicated to the families of those lost in the planes. My roommate was already pissed because she wholly believes that Islamic fundamentalist terrorists are responsible for the tragedy. I think I was more open to interpretation, but he lost me when he said no one died in the planes. I told him about the cell phone calls to loved ones. I said I could see the smoke from my building. Nothing swayed him. I was quite upset. I think this wound is too new and too painful to start spouting theories such as this to people who were there. I asked him if he believed this, and he said not necessarily, "but it gives you something to think about." I was kinda pissy at this point and wanted to say, I think the event itself gave me plenty to think about, but I had to see it from his vantage point. He wasn't there; he couldn't possibly understand the fear and the pain. Plus, everything else he said was reasonable and possible. I just couldn't wrap my head around the idea that people were not on the planes. He was only trying to offer us another theory about what happened that day. I don't know anyone who understands the why's and wherefore's, so it's only normal to try to understand the how's from every possible position. I was worried I might have to restrainb my roommate from kicking his teeth in, her boyfriend is in the military and she is a very devout Bible-thumping Christian who believes America has the mandate of heaven to do as it will. So she had a bit of trouble believing that our host was actually saying any of this, let alone that he might not wholly believe it, but just wanted to converse with us about it. Our host may have sensed her violent tendencies and kind of abruptly changed the subject and left us to ourselves. Naturally, I had to soothe her seething rage, but I guess I didn't do such a good job, because now the enitre population of 800 on this ship knows of the incident. Oh well, I hope we don't have any militant personalities that will hunt down a harmless Indian engineer and make him pay retribution for his comments. It would not make the sitch any better. Next day the Rotarians organized a trip for us to Mamallapuram. It was interesting, no air conditioning on the bus so we could “feel what the Indians feel.” I wanted to scream. I do feel what the Indians feel every time I step outside, which is why I need air conditioning on the damn bus. Not to mention, since it was blood curdlingly hot, we couldn’t shut the windows when various salespersons were shoving things in our window, saying “Just look, looking free” and then demanding that we pay them an exorbitant amount and refusing to take their merchandise back expecting us to pay. Arrrrgggggggghhhhhhhhh. I mean I understand that they need to make money somehow, but there are reasonable methods to sell me stuff. 1, don’t become belligerent with me. 2, don’t hand me a rock and tell that $50 is “very cheap, good price.” What are you nuts?!?!?!?! 3, don’t follow me around and poke me and hit me, these are not very good sales tactics. 4, yelling and demanding don’t bode well with me, so stop. I probably would have bought something if they had followed these very simple guidelines. As it was I just wanted to run away tearing my hair out. Also, no is not a word they understand. We were told before we got to India that we needed to clearly say no to salespeople. Apparently they have figured this trick out, because it no longer works. Not to mention that you can’t just shake your head and expect them to understand that as no, because here in Tamil Nadu and perhaps all of India, yes is a left to right wobbly gesture of the head that very nearly resembles the American head shake signifying no. So communication is interesting to say the least. It was hard to appreciate the temples and carvings of Mamallapuram when you are fighting off granite elephants and silly little Kama Sutra carvings left and right. Then our guide, Babu, who I already didn’t like cause of his rationale for no air conditioning, told us he was taking us to an Indian factory to see fabric being made and then to the shop. OK, NO, not really. He took us to a small store carrying Polo Sport, Diesel, Nautica, and various other US brands, and the prices were not particularly cheap either. If these can be considered authentic Indian crafts, then I must be an authentic Indian. ARrrrrrggggghhhhhh. I’m surprised more people didn’t die in my wake of aggravation during my time in India, because my most heartfelt wish was to throttle a good number of people. OK last day in India, host father takes us to the beach and then to the Theosophical Society which is a large botanical garden in Adyar. Nice. Then he took us back to the house and I called Vinay’s uncle Madhu. Our host father drove us back to the ship and then dropped me at Spencer Plaza where I was to meet Vinay’s cousin Shilpa. Our host family was very nice, and I really appreciated their efforts, but the entire experience needs help. I would have liked it more if we actually spent any time with our host family other than while sleeping. So when I met Shilpa, and she was super nice and then her mom, and they both reproached me for not calling earlier and were upset that I had to leave that night, I felt so bad, and wished I had called them earlier. We sat and looked at pictures for a while and just talked. Vinay, PS, call your Auntie and Uncle, they miss you. They said they were glad to have me because it was the closest they would get to seeing you. You haven’t seen them in 2 years, the least you could do is call!! Plus they are lovely and want to hear from you. I told Shilpa that if she comes to the States she should call me and not you, because you are sillie. Anywho moving on, they took me to a jewellery store and bought me some silver payals (anklets) and got my nose pierced. And they paid for it all. I felt so bad. It must have been very expensive, being silver, but they wouldn’t let me pay. Oh yeah, mom, dad, Karen, I got my nose pierced. Moving on, stop yelling. It’s alright. I can take it out if I don’t like it or for jobs. It’s very tasteful and aw hell, I was in India, do as the Indian girls do. So no big deal. They took me to dinner at the Sheraton Hotel, which they said Vinay always enjoyed. After dinner they made me try this leaf thing that was so gross, and I wanted to throw up, I tried to swallow it, but I just couldn’t force myself to, my gag reflex is too strong. But other than that the food was great, and the spice was just fine. This however, made us late for on ship time. Meaning I get dock time in Kenya. So Vinay, I just want you to know the sacrifices I made to spend time with your family, but don’t say anything to them, they will probably feel guilty, it was my decision to not say anything. But the dumbass that I am, I tried to run in the pitch black darkness to make it to the ship as it was some couple a football fields distance away from where you can be dropped off. Well, India likes there speed bumps and they put them everywhere with no regard for late American girls, and no decoration of any sort like some yellow paint or something to distinguish it from the flat ground. Needless to say I went flying. But at least now I can say I took a little piece of India with me when I left, since the ship’s doctor couldn’t get the big chunks of earth out of me no mater how much time he spent digging with the scalpel…..god, not only was it embarrassing, but it was so painful. I have like 57 bandaids on right now as well as about a pound of Neosporin and aloe. And despite my efforts, I made an ass of myself, cried in front of like 100 people, still have dirt in my wounds, probably have to get a Tetanus shot today, and get dock time in Kenya. Lesson learned, no more running in the dark in India with stuff in my hands….or I could just try to be on time, but then I would be denying who I am, so nah. Anywho, Vinay, your family is so sweet. I hope they come to the States sometime soon. I wish I had had more time with them. I wish I had had more time in India. I wish I had either spent all my rupees or found somewhere to exchange because now no one will take them in any of the upcoming ports, so I have like $50 in rupees. Terrific. OK, so hotlist about India: freaking hot, super humid, lots of con artists out to get you, mosquitoes are evil creatures from hell, the government is out to get people with speed bumps, driving here is referred to as a “creative process,” dirt in wounds gives you tetanus, eating of any sort gives you disease, which I am as we speak trying to fight off, water is poison, people can be nice, especially when they are relatives of your friends, caste system is still in action even after being outlawed, rupees are just worthless pieces of paper anywhere else in the world, and Beki is sooooo exhausted from her experiences there. Oh yeah, and nose rings are cool, professional, tasteful, and referred to as “poking your nose” here. I loved the motherland and wish I had more time there, I have some regrets associated with the decisions I made, but now I know for next time, and I will call Shilpa at Ascon travel and she will help me. Talk to y’all again from Kenya.

SAS Travelogue-Malaysia

SAS Travelogue-Malaysia

by Rebecca Smith

OK WOW!!! Where do I start? We have only been here 3 days and are already leaving. This is the first country that I am truly upset about leaving from. We did not have much time here, but it is a beautiful place and the people are nice and so varied. The first day I went on an island tour. We went to like 37 temples, ok so I exaggerate, but it felt like a whole lot of freakin' temples. It was more like 3 or 4. Anyways, they were nice, but I'm sick of temples. We went to the Botanical Gardens, wherein, we were nearly attacked by monkeys. But when they were jumping around from tree to tree above our heads, I thought they were trying to kill me, in actuality, the female was trying to escape the male, but he won, and a couple of very gutter minded people videotaped some hot monkey lovin'. I think that's just an intrusion into the poor monkey's personal lives, even if they err a bit on the side of exhibitionists. OK, then we went to lunch at a Golf Club, which was gorgeous and afforded a beautiful view of the island coastal scene. But what else do you expect from a ritzy country club? OK, so then we went to some other places that obviously weren't that exciting cause I can't remember what the heck they were. We went to a Batik factory. Batik is a process of fabric painting that involves chemical dyes, wax, and a very skilled artisan. I bought some lovely silk Batik scarves. The last thing we did was go to the Butterfly farm. This was by far the coolest thing we did that day. There were thousands of Butterflies just flitting about in the hibiscus (the national flower of Malaysia). I took a picture holding one. Lovely. Then we found some turtles who were also engaging in a bit of baby making, and again the camcorders were rolling. Some people just don't understand the concept of a little privacy. That night I walked with some girls to go shopping, I went cuz I wanted to use the internet and find an underwater camera for the next day's excursion, but they were on a mission. We walked 5 miles to find a freaking Pizza Hut. I was soooooooo angry. It is so hot and humid here, just as bad as Vietnam, and I walked 5 miles to sit in a Pizza Hut, which I don't even like, and watch them eat pizza. Man, thank god I found an underwater camera or I would have killed someone that night. Anywho, next day, or yesterday as the locals like to refer to it (he he he), another girl on the ship had met this woman from Wales who lives here now and runs a tour company with her husband. She signed us up to go snorkeling in the coral reefs. There were only 4 other girls, who happened to be from SAS as well, and we took a motor boat out to the reefs. On the way, our guide stopped to buy some prawn and crabs from some fishermen so he could barbecue a lunch for us later. So at least we know it was fresh. Anywho, snorkeling was so much fun, but I think I swallowed most of the water. I fell off the ladder on the way in and banged up my knee and sliced open my finger, my back anf face are totally sunburned, but besides all that, it was awesome. I can take the pain for the fun I had. Anywho, it will all heal with time. I hope my pictures come out. The water was really clear, but my eyesight wasn't as clear as the water, so I might have taken a couple of pictures of my own foot. We'll see. Speaking of pictures, I got some developed in Nam, but the scanner on the ship broke the day before we got to Nam, so I won't be able to send any home or post them here unless it gets fixed, which I doubt. Oh well. OK so after snorkeling, we went back to Feringhi Beach and hung out with the Welsh lady's daughter's pet monkey. It was like babysitting an insane child. He jumped all over everything and his best friend was the kitty, who he rode around on like it was a horse. He bit one of the girls and then we decided play time was over. Another girl and I went to the supermarket and then went home to the ship. OK, so today, I went to a Tropical Fruit Orchard and Spice Estate. I was expecting to be hanging out in a lavish place, in the manner of an old plantation home of the French Indochine era. Well, nope, not really. It was just a farm like place on top of a mountain, it wasn't even a commercial farm. It was, our guide told us, an educational experiment funded by the government. They grow various types of tropical fruit and spices to see what grows well or best in the Malay environment. Then they exhibit for scientific and educational purposes. It was neat to see and try all the different fruits. It was a beautiful location. But I don't think I would have chosen this trip if given the choice again. But it didn't take up too much time, so I have only the regret that I could have spent more time seeing Malaysia if I had not gone. Oh well. When I move here, I can see it all I want. I told the woman from Wales that I want to move here, and she said I could stay with her until I got a job and my own place. So its set, too bad I can't remember her name. Oh well, ok, gotta get back to the ship or I won't be allowed out in India. Apparently I am supposed to look up Kavi's mom and Vinay's uncle in Madras, so I better not get dock time now. OK, since I don't know how to say goodbye in Malay, I will say good morning, since that's what time it is at home...so, Selamat Pagi!!!! Later, kids!!

SAS Travelogue-Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City)

SAS Travelogue-Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City)

by Rebecca Smith

Good Morning, from Vietnam!!!!!!!!!! This is my favorite port so far. I love Vietnam. Ho-oh Chi Minh City!! YAYAYAYAYAY!!!! Anywho, besides being a fabulous place where I could survive on $20 USD if I so chose, but instead went crazy shopping, it is an insanely hot and humid place. For all those of you who have lived through a D.C. summer, you ain't seen nothing yet. I drank like 2 gallons of water a day, and proceeded to sweat it all back out in a matter of seconds in Saigon. There are sooooo many children begging you for money or to buy their postcards. Its so hard to deal with, I tried giving out little toys and boxes of cereal, but quickly discovered that bigger people beat up the kids for the goodies I would hand out. So, needless to say, I stopped doing that. Coconut milk is the most disgusting thing I have ever tasted. We took a cab around the corner and the driver tried to charge us $5 USD, insane. Sorry, couldn't finish this earlier or I would have gotten dock time. Anyways, So about Saigon. The first day all we did was walk up and down this one street called Dong Khoi St., which is basically a strip of fabric shops and tailors where you go to get clothing made for you, really cheap. That's nice and all, but after 8 hrs of 5 girls trying to find or explain excatly what they want in English to people who speak primarily Vietnamese, and then getting measured, and then haggling the cost, I was tired and annoyed and sweaty (oh I'll explain this bit) and just sick of 5 girls. That was all we did that day. JUST freaking shopped for tailors. ACKKKKK!!!!!! I wanted to throttle someone. I love shopping as much as the next girl, but this was just too much. And they happened to be slightly obnoxious girls. When the Vietnamese shopkeepers or tailors didn't understand them, they did that really annoying American habit of speaking louder and slower as though that will alter the words into a form that Vietnamese speakers will understand despite the use of English words. That is one of the most irksome things in the world to me. I really hate it when people do that. Foreign language speakers are not deaf, they just don't necessarily speak English, nor should they be expected to when they live in Vietnam. Geez!!!! And...and...get this!!! They ate lunch in a place called Chicken Town!!! For Pete's sake!!! Chicken Town?!?!? I ask you. One, it is not very vegetarian sensitive of them. Two, we are in Viet-freakin-NAM, and you want to eat fried chicken and french fries. That's almost as bad as going to McDonald's, which thankfully, I didn't see any the whole time in Vietnam. Oh well, there's my rant for that day. More pent up frustration on the way. I must add, Vietnam is disgustingly humid. I'm talking, walk outside and two minutes later you look like you fell in a lake. Beads of sweat are just streaming down your face, you look like hell and feel like it too. Its so gross. But it is so worth it. The country is beautiful. The people are lovely and so happy to talk to you and practice their English and teach you some Vietnamese too. What's wierd is how many of the words in Vietnamese are of Italian origin, not in meaning but in spelling and pronunciation. How strange. I tried to explain this to someone and instead she taught me how to say "I want to kill you" in Vietnamese. I can't remember now. I will try. OK, so I also went to the Mekong Delta, which was beautiful, we went to a tropical fruit orchard and sampled Dragon Fruit and Hairy Cherries (which have the texture of eyeballs and are yucky) and Monkey Bananas which are yummy, but they are bananas, so no big food adventure on my part. We rode in sampan boats on the canals, one girl's digital camera fell into the water and her rower dove in and got it for her, how nice is that?!?! There were monkeys everywhere. We had some sticky rice wine, which is more powerful than Sake, coconut candies, and jasmine tea. It was a fabu day. Next day, Cu Chi tunnels. These are the network of tunnels the Viet Cong used to undermine American troop movements during the war. Our guide was a South Vietnamese navy veteran. He worked in conjunction with the Americans, but remained behind after the US pulled out and Saigon fell to the North Vietnamese. He told us lots of information about the war, and how it lasted 100 years for the Vietnamese, starting as a guerrilla revolutionary movement against imperialist powers and lasting until the Vietnamese-Chinese war in 1988. We went through the tunnels. It was the scariest thing, it was very dark, and very hot and very tight. We had to crawl through them in pitch black, and there were bats and other creatures running rampant through them. YICK!!! But it was interesting to see how they lived and worked and fought to survive. He showed us some of the booby traps and how they made weapons out of bamboo and unexploded American bombs. He showed us how they sent the smoke from their cooking fires through a system to hide the actual location of their kitchen and then used the smoke to covr the ground abouve their tunnel system so it just looked foggy to helicopters. Very interesting all in all. Last day, we picked up all our tailored clothing. It was one of my friend's 21st, so we all went to the spa, they all got massages and I got a manicure/pedicure and facial for $10 USD. How awesome is that. And I had such a kink in my shoulder, and she got it out in no time. Amazing!!! Then we went out for a nice dinner in the Rex Hotel. Gorgeous. If I go back to Vietnam I will stay there. Anywho, Sam I got us the cutest purses. Allyson, I got you something in Vietnam. Mrs. LaVecchia, tell the boys I got them their pointy hats. Suz, I got you a Louis V. YAY!!! OK y'all!!! Han Gup Lai!!! Next stop, Penang Island, Malaysia. Byeee!!!!