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S O U T H A T L A N T I C I S L A N D S
o f
S A I N T H E L E N A a n d T R I S T A N D A C U N H A
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M A L A Y S I A / S I N G A P O R E / I N D O N E S I A
C A P E T O W N, S O U T H A F R I C A
2 0 0 0 / 2 0 0 1
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This travelogue is for a trip taken December 22, 2000 - February 10, 2001
to the South Atlantic Islands of St. Helena and Tristan da Cunha, as well as
parts of Malaysia, Singapore, Pulau Bintan (Indonesia), Cape Town (South
Africa) and a sail-by of Gough Island.
The opinions expressed within are my own, and the information is subject
to change with the passage of time.
Rates quoted are in the local currency of the country being discussed,
though often the US$ equivalent is also noted. The approximate exchange
rates in effect during my trip were as follows (for one US$):
Malaysian Ringgit: 3.80
South African Rand: 7.50 - 7.90
St. Helena Pound: 0.68
Tristan da Cunha: 0.68
Note: the St. Helena Pound is tied to the British Pound, and the
British Pound is used on Tristan da Cunha and on the RMS St. Helena.
@1=US$1.47 / US$1=@0.68
Singapore Dollar: 1.72
Indonesia Rupee 9,288.00
The general country-by-country breakdown of the travelogue is as follows:
Malaysia: Dec. 24 - Dec. 27, Feb. 1 - Feb. 4, Feb. 8 - Feb. 10
South Africa: Dec. 27 - Jan. 1, Jan. 17, Jan. 30 - Feb. 1
Onboard the RMS: Dec. 30, Jan. 1 - 5, Jan. 12 - 17, Jan. 18 - 23,
Jan. 25 - Jan. 30
St. Helena: Jan. 5 - Jan. 12
Tristan da Cunha: Jan. 23 - Jan. 25
Singapore: Feb. 4 - Feb. 8
Indonesia: Feb. 6
(plus a Gough Island sail-by on Jan. 26)
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THE ISLANDS... TAKE TWO
For quite some time now, I've always wanted to visit the islands of
Tristan da Cunha and St. Helena in the South Atlantic Ocean. I'm not sure
why exactly -- and though I certainly had more than enough opportunity to
think up a clever reply to the question with all the times it was asked, I
suppose the answer is simply that I have always been curious about what life
is like on remote islands. Most of my fellow travellers aboard the British
Royal Mail Ship RMS St. Helena had specific purposes for visiting the
islands: interest in Napoleon (who died in exile while on St. Helena),
botanists interested in endemic flora or fauna, journalists writing stories
for various South African magazines, or people simply visiting family or
friends. I had none of that though, and for better or worse, decided to
approach this trip with a fresh mind and only a minimal amount of pre-trip
research. On one level, this meant that I perhaps didn't know every
interesting fact about a place, but it also allowed me a clean slate,
without having in my head old, inaccurate accounts of life on these islands.
One important thing to note is that the impressions conveyed in this
travelogue are that of a short-term visitor, and should be viewed as such.
By no means am I an expert on these countries, nor do I pretend to be. With
such a limited amount of time, I had a chance only to scratch the surface of
these fascinating places, and the views and opinions expressed in this text
are nothing more than my own personal thoughts -- which are of course
completely subjective. Though a travelogue can only hope to represent a
brief slice of time at a particular place, I hope that through these pages I
can give the reader a feel for what it was like to pay a visit to these
interesting little corners of the world.
My trip this year was really the conclusion of a trip started last year:
in 1999/2000, I booked passage on board the RMS with plans to visit not only
St. Helena and Tristan da Cunha, but Africa as well (as the RMS stops in
Cape Town). However six weeks before I was to leave, the ship's crankshaft
broke off the coast of France, causing Curnow Shipping to delay its St.
Helena sailing (ultimately having to rent an alternate vessel) and cancel
the Tristan da Cunha trip altogether. Deciding to postpone the islands for
the following year, I wound up having almost three months to explore Africa
in 1999/2000... and finally making it to St. Helena and Tristan da Cunha
this year, I was also able to see a bit of Malaysia and Singapore as well.
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Dec. 22/23/24: Los Angeles / Kuala Lumpur (Malaysia)
The day started early at 6:00am — not with travelling, but with a full day at home.
My Malaysian Airlines flight wouldn't be leaving LAX until 11:35pm, but with so much to do
before being away for seven weeks, I had a full, non-stop day.
Arriving at LAX in the evening, I found myself waiting in a line typical for a holiday
period, but once checked in, I had plenty of time to walk around and explore the Tom
Bradley International terminal. Upstairs, I stumbled upon the internet kiosks on the upper
level... though they're no longer free (there's now a 10c/min charge), back in December, if
you looked at an ad for 30 seconds, you were given 10 minutes of free web surfing time —
and if you just kept the cursor moving, you didn't even have to look at the ad. For 20
minutes I was able to check my temporary web-based email account (making sure it was
retreiving messages forwarded from my shell account) and look up the weather forecast for
Kuala Lumpur: hot, with thunderstorms. Soon it was time to board, and with it being the
holiday season, the line to enter the gate area stretched the entire length of the terminal.
My flight this year was on Malaysian Airlines, and while they don't quite reach the
standards of a top-tier carrier such a Singapore, they're not a bad choice. Malaysia's in-
flight entertainment system is quite good, with each passenger (even in economy class)
having their own LCD TV, with a choice of 11 video channels as well as Super Nintendo
video games (though most of the controllers had been worn to the point where they no
longer worked). By taking MAS I was also able to stopover in Malaysia (something I very
much wanted to do), but the one drawback was the amount of time spent on board various
aircraft: just to get to Cape Town meant a routing of LAX - Taipei - Kuala Lumpur -
Johannesburg - Cape Town — and as we took off a half-hour late at midnight, the pilot
announced that due to strong headwinds, we'd need to stop in Japan as well to re-fuel.
It would be 11hrs 30mins to KIX (Osaka, Japan) where we'd make our unscheduled
stop to re-fuel, but I passed the time by watching various movies — including an interesting
Japanese one called "Space Travellers", about three guys robbing a bank who borrow names
from a ficticious anime series (many of the bank employees and customers wind up joining
them in the charade, though in the end it eventually goes bad). At 5:00am local time we
landed in Osaka to refuel for 70 minutes, and as we left to continue onto Taipei, the horizon
was just starting to show some light.
2hrs 45mins later in Taipei, we were allowed to disembark the plane and walk
around the airport for an hour. At the duty-free shop, I bought a telephone card (US$3.50)
to make some quick calls home and a Coke (US$2) and slice of cake at the restaurant. After
an hour it was time to re-board the aircraft, though once onboard there was an hour delay,
as the bags of two passengers who didn't return had to be found and removed.
The flight from Taipei to Kuala Lumpur was an additional 4hrs 20mins, but during
the flight I had a chance to peruse a local KL newspaper... some of the stories making news:
it's now the Hari Raya period (the end of Ramadan when many people take a holiday), and
an article urged people leaving the city to visit their hometowns to secure their homes
against theft... in recent school tests, English proficiency has gone down (Malay is the
country's official language), and another article urged readers using ATMs to keep alert for
people wearing helmets nearby, as there has been a lot of ATM crime with robbers getting
away on motorbikes...
Finally landing at KLIA airport in Malaysia, I approached the 24hr tourist information
counter for some maps and information, and received the first taste of Malaysia's cold-
shoulder attitude from the two Tourism Malaysia ladies (wearing traditional Muslim scarves)
behind the counter. This cold shoulder was surprisingly consistant with every Malay
Tourism official I encountered, and perhaps someone should remind them that if they want
to encourage tourism (as their brochures claim), they definitely need to change their
attitude.
This demeanor isn't just prevalant with Tourism Malaysia officials though — it seems
to be the general attitude of most Muslim Malays in the country. Thinking this first
encounter was just an abbaration (as I never felt such a cold shoulder in any other Muslim
country), I didn't give it much thought (except to wonder how they were given jobs in the
tourism sector) — but I soon began to see that this cold disposition is typical of the
country's Malay population, and is in stark contrast to the much friendlier attidute of
Malaysia's Chinese and Indian population. Later in the trip, I felt none of this coldness from
Muslims in Singapore or Indonesia, yet only once (on my very last night) did I ever feel
anything but coldness from Muslim Malays. In Febrary there was an article in a local
English-language paper about an organization boycotting American companies due to the
US' support of Israel, listing many of the boycotted companies and giving out the boycotting
organization's address and phone number as if it was a paid advertisement instead of a
news article — so perhaps there is a bit of anti-American sentiment in the country, but if I
stop to politely ask someone on the street for directions, how does that person know I'm
American and not German or Canadian? As much as I hate to write something like this, I
would be omitting an important observation if I didn't — for throughout my time in Malaysia
there was a clear, consistant difference in attitude between local Muslim Malays and their
Chinese and Indian neighbors.
After picking up a tourist map, I withdrew some local money from an ATM so I could
buy a telephone card. One important thing to note is that phone cards sold at the airport do
NOT work on phones outside the airport and are pretty much a waste of money. Making
things even more inconvenient, normal Telekom Malaysia cards aren't sold anywhere inside
KLIA. Not knowing this however, I bought two cards (MR20/US$5.26 each) at the nearby
shop — and though I eventually used them on subsequent trips to the airport, they were
virtually useless for my stay in Malaysia.
KLIA is a large, new airport... you must take an automated "Aero Train" from one
terminal to the other (where baggage claim/immigration is located), and seeing the cloudy
weather and wet ground outside during the short ride, I knew I'd be needing my umbrella
later. While reading the local newspaper on board the plane, I found a quote from a recent
letter-to-the-editor in which the reader complained that it took over an hour for him to get
his bags at KLIA. The paper then published a response from MAS disputing his claim, so I
thought I'd time it myself today to see how they did... sure enough, it was indeed slightly
over one hour from the time the bags were being unloaded off the aircraft to the time they
rolled down onto the carrosel (even the flight attendants were waiting) — and my student
violin (which I had checked in with a "FRAGILE" sticker) now had a collapsed bridge (I fixed
it right there in baggage claim, but it wasn't reassuring).
KLIA is located far from downtown Kuala Lumpur, and with no light rail yet
connecting the airport to the city (it's currently being built), the only real choice other than a
taxi is the Airport Shuttle bus, at RM25/US$6.58 each way (a price average for other world
cities, but expensive for Malaysia). The bus takes you from KLIA to a half-way terminal,
where you transfer to a smaller van to take you into the city.
Just minutes after the bus pulled away from KLIA, the rain began falling — so hard
and heavy that motorcyclists were taking shelter under bridges until the rain passed. From
KLIA into town there's very little to see: palm oil plantations, some open spaces with weeds,
and new cookie-cutter housing tracts with row after row of identical townhomes. People
drive on the left in Malaysia, and seem to be extra cautious on the toll expressway — though
once on normal city streets, drivers here are just as crazy and reckless as the rest of Asia.
As we approached the hotel the rain stopped, and for the next few days in Kuala Lumpur,
the weather seemed to follow the same pattern: clear morning skies, cloudy afternoons, and
rain from around 3:30pm-6:00pm.
Tonight, I'd be staying at the "Seasons View" hotel on Jalan Alor ("Jalan" means
"street"), one block in from the expensive shopping area of Jalan Bukit Bintang. A great
location, Jalan Alor is walking distance to the fancy shops and hotels on Jalan Bukit
Bintang, and every night between 6:00pm-6:00am the street comes alive with hawker food-
stalls, making it (along with Chinatown) one of the best places to come for dinner. There are
a handful of low-cost hotels along Jalan Alor (it's not that long of a street), but the only two
worth looking at are the Seasons View and the slightly-more-expensive Hotel Nova down the
street. Both are good places to stay, and while I stayed at the Seasons View at the start of
my trip, I opted for the Hotel Nova at the end just to try someplace different.
The Seasons View is a small, relatively new (1998) boutique hotel that's Malaysian-
Chinese run, with most of the guests also being Malaysian-Chinese. I found out about it by
stumbling across a Japanese-language web page on inexpensive area hotels
(http://lovebagus.net/hotels/jalan_alor.html), though there is also a special page with
pictures on the Seasons View itself: (http://lovebagus.net/hotels/seasonsview.html). The
place is cheap and clean, and all rooms have air-con, color TV, and an in-room tea/coffee
set. The hotel uses a computerized reservation system, so a few weeks before leaving on my
trip, I decided to call up and book a room (as it often fills up if you don't book in advance).
There are a few different types of rooms available (including nice ones with balconys
overlooking Jalan Alor), but I opted for the cheapst: Room #215 in the middle of the building
near the elevator — it has no windows, but it also meant I wasn't bothered with street noise
at night. The price with breakfast was RM63++ (which equals RM72/US$18.95 when taxes
are added), but if you stay at least three nights, the price comes down to RM68/US$17.89
per night including all taxes and breakfast (there's also an RM40 "day rate" according to the
sign outside). Though I'd need to leave for the airport at 10:00pm on the 26th, I thought it'd
be nice to have a place to shower and relax in before the flight, so I decided to reserve the
room for three nights instead of two. Walking into the Seasons View room that evening,
there was a buzzing noise coming from the bathroom — so I went down to ask if I could have
another room. Telling me they were fully-booked for the night, the receptionist sent a man
upstairs to fix the noise (the bathroom ceiling fan just needed to be tightened), and
everything was fine.
After setting my bag down, I decided to go out for a walk down Jalan Bukit Bintang.
The rain had stopped, and at 5:30pm on December 24th, there were plenty of of foreigners
out walking around the area, with its Planet Hollywood, Marriot Hotel, and trendy shops and
restaurants (many advertising special Christmas Eve dinners). As well, plenty of local young
Malaysians were busy shopping and hanging out, with the streets quite crowded. At one
outdoor restaurant, employees wearing Santa hats were listening intently to their boss give
them instructions, and the stores along the street were full of Christmas decorations and
sale banners, even though Malaysia is predominantly a Muslim country. Walking into the
Marriot, I tried to take the elevator up for a look at the street below, but as a key-card is
required past the 6F, I decided the view wouldn't be worth any further effort. Besides the
area's fancier restaurants, there are more modest choices as well (from KFC to the food
courts in the large malls, where chicken & rice was going for RM3.80/US$1), but I opted to
wait for the Jalan Alor food stalls to open, as such stalls usually have better food.
In the area are some large shopping malls, including BB Plaza and Lot 10, as well as
plenty of smaller choices. There are a couple of "factory outlet" shops selling apparel
overruns, though their prices are pretty much the same as what you'd pay in the US for
such items (in fact, many of the clothes carried Mervyns and GAP labels on them).
While apparel is no cheaper than low-cost shops in the US (and more expensive than
neighboring Singapore), the one area where Malaysia is a shopper's paradise is in the
bootleg intellectual property arena: pirate music CDs, Video CDs (VCDs), DVDs, and
computer CD-ROMs are everywhere — not just at the outside markets, but in bright, well-lit
shops in the large shopping complexes all over the country (VCD — or "Video Compact Disc"
is a common video format in Asia which uses older MPEG-1 technology for a picture quality
about the same as VHS tape. Though the format is not popular in the US, many DVD
players can play VCD discs). The fact that these bootleg items are sold so openly is
surprising, but unlike Singapore or Hong Kong, the authorities in Malaysia do nothing to
stop it. In fact, there was a recent (confusing) newspaper article about piracy of CDs and
VCDs in Malaysia, quoting a Trade Enforcement deputy-director saying "we cannot have
laws to stop the public from buying pirated products" — before mentioning some recent
raids which have taken place. If the authorities were serious though, the bootlegs would be
found only in quiet street markets, not in dozens of high-profile shops at just about every
fancy shopping mall in the country. Below are excerpts from the article:
The local entertainment industry lost an estimated 60%, or RM300
million (US$78.9 million) out of last year's half-billion ringgit
market for CDs and VCDs to profiteers and pirated products. This has
prompted the industry to launch another nationwide campaign through
Deputy Prime Minister Datuk Sri Abdullah Ahmad Badawi against pirated
products at Dataran Merdeka on Feb. 23. Domestic Trade Enforcement
deputy director-general Abdul Rahman Ghazali said full cooperation
from the general public is still needed to weed out illegal producers.
"We cannot have laws to stop the public from buying pirated products,
and the best approach is to educate and reason with them the
undesirable long-term effects of doing so," said Rahman. "We have
come to know that pirated products are most popular during festive
seasons. This has encouraged their makers to take advantage of the
festivities, and we are forced to increase checks during these
periods" ... He said major urban areas like Penang, Ipoh, and Klang
Valley remained top targets for illegal profiteers making quality
copies of originals, with poorer makes sold in rural areas and states
like Sabah and Sarawak. Rahman was speaking at a news conference on
the latest seizures made by his department, together with the
Recording Industry Association of Malaysia (RIM) general manager,
T.S. Lam. Rahman said recent raids showed that illegal producers are
able to make pirated discs from homes and in luxury apartments, and no
longer in factory-type premises, using compact duplicating equipment
and stick-on labels...
The prices of these bootleg products varies depending upon where you shop and how
hard you bargain, but the general asking prices are: RM10/US$2.63 for a music CD, RM6-
RM10 (US$1.58-US$2.63) for pirate CD-ROMs (including ones with multiple programs such
as Adobe Photoshop 6.0, Microsoft Office, and Windows ME on the same disc), and RM6-
RM7 (US$1.58-US$1.84) for VCD videos of the latest Hollywood movies — available on
bootleg VCD literally only days after they've premiered in US theatres (in fact, most places
selling VCD movies display a list of the past week's Top-10 US box office — with the titles all
available for purchase on pirate VCD for RM6-RM7). There are legitimately-licensed VCDs of
course (usually in the RM10-RM35 price range, often with stickers urging people not to buy
pirated goods), but the vast majority of people just buy the bootlegs — and with VCD players
selling for as little as RM199/US$52.36, the format remains popular. Though VCD is still
the format of choice for Asia, pirate all-region DVDs are starting to appear as well, going for
RM20/US$5.26, though the selection of DVD movies isn't nearly as large and up-to-date as
VCDs.
After buying a large soft-serve cone at McDonald's (RM1.50/US39c for a large,
RM1/US26c for a small) I wanted to make a phone call, but finding a working card phone in
Malaysia is something easier said than done, as most are usually broken. Finding one
inside the Federal Hotel, I soon realized that the cards I bought at KLIA wouldn't work on
phones outside the airport, though one of the staff at the hotel mentioned I could buy
normal cards at a 7-11. Walking back to the 7-11 on Jalan Alor (across the street from the
Seasons View), I was told they were sold out — so I walked into another nearby shop where
the Chinese cashier sold me a "Time Kontact" phone card.
"Time Kontact" is a private company which sells disposable scratch-off cards where
you dial a toll-free number (1-800-182-661) and enter your card's number to place the call.
Available in different amounts, I first bought a RM20/U$5.26 card to try (minus 5% tax, it
had RM19 worth of calls), and even with problems in reaching Time Kontact's network from
time to time, they were still more reliable than the constantly-broken card phones on the
street — and as Time Kontact would work from coin phones as well, I wound up going
through quite a few of the cards. Upon first trying to use them that evening though, I kept
receiving a "Sorry, all lines are busy" recording... so when someone told me that the
newsstand next to the KFC sells "normal" Telekom Malaysia phone cards, I went over to buy
one. At first the Indian guy there thought I wanted to buy another "Time" card, but after
explaining to him that I wanted to buy a Telekom Malaysia card, he sold me one for
RM10/US$2.63. Finally stumbling upon a working card phone, I tried to call my brother
overseas — only to receive a recording saying "sorry, that number is not recognized."
Dialing slowly, I eventually did get through, though Telekom Malaysia card phones are
almost always broken in one way or another — and some (on purpose or by accident) block
calls to Time Kontact's 800 access number.
After walking around Jalan Bukit Bintang for a while, I returned to the hotel at
8:00pm to drop the camera off and look around Jalan Alor. Most of the food stalls along the
street stay open late — with some staying open throughout the night. The stalls were
already quite active, and at around 8:30pm, bootleg CD/VCD tables were being set up as
well (with "The Emperor's New Groove" and "Unbrekable" already for sale). Jalan Alor has
"normal" restaurants as well as the portable food stalls, and deciding to try a few different
things, I ordered two pork baos (RM0.90/US24c) from a stall as well as six pieces of Dim
Sum and chicken-rice from the "One Plus One" restaurant (RM7.50/US$1.97). Sitting down
at an outside plastic table to relax for the first time in 48 hours, I took out my journal and
began jotting down some notes in it between bites.
At 9:55pm I walked back to the hotel room and turned on the TV while washing
clothes in the shower. Looking at the TV listings in the newspaper, it seems that Malaysia
takes their TV ratings seriously: "U"=general viewing for all ages, "18SG"=for 18+ with non-
excessive violent/horrifying scenes, "18SX"=for 18+ with non-excessive sex scenes,
"18PA"=for 18+ with political/religious/counter-culture elements, and "18PL"=for 18+ with a
combination of two or more elements.
Leaving the clothes to dry in the shower, I went to sleep at 11:30pm — the end of a
very long day.
Misc. observation: many bookstores in Malaysia have Japanese manga (comics) for
sale in both Chinese and Malay editions (two I happened to notice were "Doraemon" and
"Chibi Maruko-chan").
Dec. 25: Kuala Lumpur
Waking up around 5:00am to the faint sound of morning prayers (I'm glad I had a
room without windows), I went back to sleep until 7:40am when the alarm went off. Going
downstairs for the included breakfast at 8:00am, I was asked to wait 10 minutes as they
were just getting ready, but returning a few minutes later, the eggs were already cold (you're
offered either a western or local breakfast — I chose western, which included two eggs,
toast, a slice of meat, some baked beans, and tea).
It was a beautiful clear morning (though hot and humid), and by 8:40am I was out
walking towards Chinatown. Most shops were still closed, but the area certainly looked
promising for later exploration. Continuing onto the Central Market, the shops there were
closed as well (the guard said they would open at 10:00am), so I decided to head to the
eastern end of the city where the museums and parks are located.
Arriving at the National Mosque first, I had a look inside (being given a black robe to
cover my inappropriate clothing — I was wearing shorts). It's large, modern, has a pool
around the building, and tour groups were already flowing out from their buses en masse to
have a look.
From the Mosque I walked over to the Deer Park, but the entrance gate was locked.
A sign mentioned the opening time was 10:00am on public holidays (Christmas is still
considered a public holiday in Malaysia), but even though it was just about 10:00am and I
could hear a radio blaring from down below somewhere, the gate was still shut. Deciding to
return later, I walked to the nearby Orchid Garden. Free most days (but RM1/US26c on
public holidays), I paid my RM1 and had a quick look around. It's nice enough, but nothing
special, so after a few minutes, I returned back to the Deer Park at 10:15am, where the
guard finally came by to open the gate. Admission is free, and for RM0.50/US13c you can
buy 5 slices of bread to feed the deer and rabbits with. Though small, the park is a nice
idea, and the tame deer are more than willing to approach you in hopes of receiving some
food (a Chinese family with a young boy was having fun feeding the deer that morning).
Bird Park is nearby, but as it has an entrance fee of RM5/US$1.32 and a "camera"
fee of RM2/US53c, I wasn't sure whether or not to bother with it. Asking three Americans
leaving the park if it was worth it, their reply was "if you like birds it is" — so I had a look.
The park is quite large with many different areas covered with overhead netting to keep the
birds in while giving them more space, and plenty of species from peacocks to flamingos to
pelicans to storks roam the grounds. Though I'm not really all that interested in birds, the
park was enjoyable nonetheless, and if birds are one of your hobbies, you can definitely
spend a lot more time here than I did (one bird in a cage even volunteered a "Hi!" and a few
cat-calls as I walked by). Leaving the park, I passed the Americans I had talked to earlier
(an older couple from South Carolina with their mid-30s daughter), who asked if I enjoyed
the park. Walking with them to nearby Butterfly Park, we chatted for a bit: the daughter
has been working at a hospital in Saipan, and the parents had come over to meet her in
Malaysia.
Butterfly Park is quite nice (RM10/US$2.63 with camera fee), having not only large
display areas catagorizing different types of butterflies, but a large enclosed area complete
with pond, where plenty of butterflies flitter around. With both astethic and scientific
aspects available here, most people will find it worth their while.
After looking around Butterfly Park, I left to continue on my own. With it being so
hot and humid this morning I had a suspicion that rain might come later in the afternoon,
so deciding to continue with the outdoor sights while the weather was still good, I walked
over to Merdeka Square, a large public green area in the center of town. Though the Square
holds historical significance, unless there's a special event occuring it's just a large green
square — though the area around it has many old colonial-style buildings left over from the
days when the British were in Malaysia.
From Merdeka Square I started walking north to find Little India, beginning to notice
how poor street signage can be in KL — there are many intersections where only one street's
name is displayed, and other intersections (including one in the Jalan Bukit Bintang area)
have the same street name posted for both directions, making it impossible to tell which of
the two streets is actually the one named on the sign.
Passing by the Masjid Jamek Mosque, I was only able to look at the buildings from
the outside (even with a black robe on), though it didn't look as interesting as the National
Mosque. Continuing on, I soon found myself at a large outdoor marketplace that stretched
along Jalan Masjid India and some nearby parallel streets. I'm not sure if it was a daily
market or if it occurs only on public holidays, but the streets were filled with stalls selling
everything you could imagine including clothes, fabric, watches, candy, food, shirts,
backpacks, and incense (no-name polo shirts were going for RM18/US$4.74). Continuing
down Pasar Malam (with stalls in the middle of the street), I also looked in at some of the
permanent shops that line the road. Stopping to change a roll of film next to a picture frame
shop (on a street filled with hawker stalls), the Indian man working there asked where I was
from, and we started talking for a bit. As it was a normal shop (not a hawker stall), I said
"you're open today!" and he replied "if I don't work, I don't eat!" — though he seemed to be
doing quite well. Like many of their Asian neighbors, Malaysians are extremely pushy and
shove all the time (especially in crowds and marketplaces like this). Though it's something
I'm used to when travelling in Asia, when I later returned to Malaysia after visiting St.
Helena, the difference between the two places (one where you'll get shoved and pushed
constantly, and the other where people will be happy to simply wait until you've moved
aside) was quite pronounced.
When finished at the marketplace, I decided to head for the tall Menara KL Tower,
which like the CN Tower in Toronto, offers good views of the city. However even though I
could see the Tower in front of me, the major road I was on (Jalan Ampang) didn't go
through to the Tower — so I had to walk all the way around and go out of the way to find the
one road that actually did lead to the Tower (on the last stretch of the road, I passed a group
of monkeys sitting on the fence, looking for handouts).
Waiting in line to buy tickets at 2:15pm, when I finally reached the front of the line, a
tour leader cut right in front of me without a thought, ordering sixty tickets for his group.
The young guy behind the counter was happy to serve him first with no apology to me, and
as each ticket had to be individually printed, it was taking quite a while. After a few
minutes, a second cashier opened and motioned me over to him to buy my ticket, but this
didn't exactly give me a good feeling about the place.
Built in 1996 after four years of construction, the Menara Tower is the fourth tallest
tower of its type in the world — and though it was beginning to get hazy outside (and was
now not the best weather for viewing), it was still worth the RM8/US$2.11 admission
charge. There is a revolving restaurant at the top, but advance reservations (made
downstairs in the lobby) are required, insuring no one sets foot in it unless they actually
plan to dine there. According to the menu downstairs, the cheapest options for dinner were
RM85-RM95/US$22.37-US$25.00 — extremely expensive by Malaysian standards, so at the
top, I opted simply for an ice-cream at the snack bar, resting for a bit to write a few notes in
my journal after taking in the 360-degree view. Up on top were three Telekom Malaysia card
phones, and as was proving to be the norm, none of them worked correctly.
Back down walking into town again, I stopped at a Shell petrol station along the way
and had my first "100 PLUS" soda — a "refresh" drink made by Coca-Cola that's pretty
much a carbonated version of Pocari Sweat.
It was now cloudy, and a few drops of rain were beginning to fall. As I passed the
Telekom Malaysia Museum I decided to have a look, as I've always been interested in
telephones and the sign outside indicated it was open until 5:30pm even on public holidays.
As I tried to enter though, the lady at the gate said simply "closed today!" (I guess I should
have expected this from Telekom Malaysia). Expecting the few drops of rain to soon turn
into a downpour, I headed back for the indoor Central Market now that everything would be
open, and walking past Masjid Jamek and Merdeka Square, found it just as it started to
sprinkle.
Inside the Central Market are various shops of all types, mostly for tourists, but a few
for locals as well — and everything from Malaysian arts & crafts to souvenir T-shirts to
violins can be found here. Near the entrance was a booth with a large crowd gathered in
front of it: the police had set up a graphic display (complete with gory video) to warn people
of the dangers of drinking and driving, but instead of being scared by it, locals were glued to
the screen, watching it as pure entertainment. After spending some time looking around
both levels, I was about to leave just as the sky opened up and heavy, pouring rain began to
fall, complete with thunder and lightning. People outside ran into the Market for shelter,
and I realized I'd be stuck here for a while.
Walking over to the corner of the market where the phones are located, I managed to
place an overseas call using my Time Kontact card before walking over to buy a set of made-
in-USA earplugs from a nearby shop (for my upcoming trip on the ship, as I'd be sharing a
cabin with someone else). After buying a newspaper from the downstairs newsstand
(RM1/US26c), I went up to the 2F food court to sit down, read the paper, and have a late
lunch (a good beef/rice bowl served in a clay pot for only RM3.40/US89c).
Looking through the paper, I couldn't seem to find any cinema times, so when
finished eating, I returned back to the newsstand to check inside another English-language
paper — but still couldn't find any. The man at the newsstand said "they should be in
there," and helped me look through all the English papers he had, but couldn't explain why
none he sold had any cinema times. "I guess not today," he finally said — but just a bit
later while walking around, I noticed a man reading today's Sun (one of the English-
language newspapers I had just searched through). When I asked him why no papers list
the cinema times, he instantly turned the page to show me the cinema listings (the section
must have been missing from the papers from the newsstand). Looking down, the man
pointed out the times for the cinema at the Central Market annex (just across the street),
with the two choices being "102 Dalmations" at 4:45pm and "The 6th Day" at 4:55pm. With
the time now 4:55pm, I asked the man for directions and thanked him as I left (the cinema
is located upstairs in the building directly opposite the Market). With the rain coming down
hard, I was out in it for just a few seconds as I darted across the street to the annex building
to catch "The 6th Day" with Arnold Schwartzenegger (RM8/US$2.11). Though the movie
was pretty bad, it was interesting to note the almost-empty theatre (with only 3 other people
inside), probably due to the fact that someone could already buy and own the movie on
pirate VCD for less than the cost to come to the cinema and see it once (as both "102
Dalmations" and "The 6th Day" were hot sellers at the VCD stalls). The small theatre had
only mono sound, but the projection was sharp and wasn't bad for the price. The movie was
shown with both Malay and Chinese subtitles, but just as the ending credits began to roll,
the projector was immediately turned off (the norm for much of Asia).
When the movie finished, I walked back to the main Market building for one more
quick look (the rain had now become only a light drizzle). Up on the 2F was a shop selling
bootleg CD-ROMs, but they were asking RM20... stalls in nearby Chinatown ask only RM10,
and stores elsewhere in the country asked only RM4-6 for the same CD-ROMs. Also on
display were plenty of bootleg PlayStation games, as well as pirate GameBoy cartridges
(including a "19-in-1" cartridge for an extremely expensive RM189/US$49.74).
As the rain was letting up, I decided to leave the Central Market and head to nearby
Chinatown. It was now about 7:15pm, and the area around Jalan Petaling was bustling. In
the evening, the area is closed to traffic as stalls set up in the middle of the street to sell
everything from fake Rolex watches (RM50/US$13.16 first price — I didn't bother bargaining
as I wasn't interested) to souvenir T-shirts (RM8/US$2.11) to pirate VCDs and CD-ROMs.
Some pirate CD-ROM stalls were charging RM15-RM20 (trying to grab the tourists before
they had a chance to compare prices elsewhere), though one stall was selling everything for
RM10 (later in Penang, the going rate for the same CD-ROMs was RM7 — which was
voluntarily dropped to RM6). While most stalls concentrated on VCDs (at the usual
RM7/US$1.84 price — though occasinally you could find them for RM5-RM6 elsewhere in
the city), a few had a small selection of pirate all-region DVDs as well for RM25/US$6.58 (in
Penang, these DVDs were RM20/US$5.26). On the pirate VCD front, the stalls already had
for sale "Oh Brother, Where Art Thou" — a movie which opened theatrically in the US only 3
days earlier, and most stalls have a VCD player and TV set so you can verify that the disc
works properly — though none of the stalls selling DVDs had a DVD player to test the discs
on. One stand selling cheap knockoff watches had one with a "RM238" price on it... I
stopped just to peer at it, and as I walked away, the price suddenly dropped to RM50,
RM20, and even RM10. Though there are dozens of stalls, most are usually selling the same
items, so bargain hard and don't be afraid to walk away.
Besides the stalls and small shops of Chinatown, there are two very good indoor
shopping malls to check out: S&M Plaza (the better of the two), and the neighboring Koto
Raya Mall. One of the many interesting stores in S&M is a Japanese-themed shop ("Kyun")
where everything the store offers (candy, clothes hangers, coffee mugs, marbles — even little
beckoning cats) is sold for RM5.99/US$1.58 (though most items were labelled in Japanese,
the majority of them came from China). Entering Kyun to look for a plastic cup (as I had
forgotten to take one with me from home), they had only ceramic ones for sale — but visiting
the large S&M sundries store upstairs next, I found a set of 4 plastic cups for only
RM2.80/US74c (needing only one, I wound up just throwing the other three away). At the
cashier's ready to pay for it, a local teenager walked up with a pair of earings, cutting right
in front of me to pay for them, and the Malay cashier waited on her first. Returning to the
store a few minutes later, I also bought two ultra-tiny, made-in-Malaysia "Winnie-the-Pooh"
spiral notebooks (RM0.90/24c each) which I would use everyday on my trip to jot down
notes while out walking and exploring.
S&M Plaza has a nice large supermarket upstairs with good prices on food, and
they're the cheapest place in the area to buy sodas from (the typical price for a normal can
of soda is RM1.20 from a vendor or machine, RM1.40 at a 7-11, and RM1.50-RM1.80 at a
restaurant — though a "special" soda such as 100 PLUS will usually be 10c-20c more. At
the S&M Plaza supermarket, normal sodas were RM1 warm, RM1.10 cold, and only RM1.20
for a cold 100 PLUS). For a change of pace however, I tried a soursop soda from a vending
machine in the hall (RM1.20/US32c).
One of the ground-level shops of S&M was selling Q+Q watches (the low-end range of
Japan CBM Corp. — decent, inexpensive watches). While in Jordan last year, I picked up a
bootleg "O+O" (not Q+Q) watch with traditional Arabic numbers on the face for about
US$3.50, and here in this shop, found the "real" Q+Q model of the same watch for
RM39.95/US$10.51. Q+Q watches can be found all over Malaysia and Singapore, but it
pays to shop and compare before buying... though many shops wanted RM50-RM60 for the
same watches this one shop was asking RM39.95 for, I later found them elsewhere in
Malaysia selling for RM29.
The basement of S&M has some good CD-ROM/VCD shops, including one I found
the next day selling Japanese animation on pirate all-region DVDs (including the Shin
Kimagure Orange Road movie and the Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli films). These movies
aren't legitimately available on DVD yet even in Japan (I own them on LaserDisc), though
the pirate DVDs have Chinese subtitles on them (I'm not sure if the subtitles can be turned
off or not as the sales clerk wasn't sure herself, and the store had no DVD player to try them
out on).
Many shopping malls (including S&M Plaza) have video arcades in them, and though
I had just read a newspaper article mentioning that arcades would be forced to close their
doors under new rules scheduled to take effect January 1st, when I returned back to
Malaysia in February, the video arcades were still open and operating.
Chinatown is one of the best places in the city to have dinner, and though the bao
stalls are RM1 here (as opposed to RM0.90 elsewhere), the food is still cheap, and the sheer
amount of choice is worth the trip. One type of stall found here (but not on Jalan Alor)
offers dozens of different types of skewers (with raw fish, pork, meat, chicken, etc.) which
you choose and cook yourself right at the table by dipping them into a pot of boiling water
for 30 seconds. Fresh and incredibly delicious, most are only RM1.50/US39c each, though
a few (on shorter sticks so the cashier knows to charge you more) are RM3.00/US79c — for
items such as real abalone. As all of the outside tables were taken, I was seated next to a
Chinese family who was just finishing... after they left, a Singapore Chinese family sat down
next to me, and we talked for a bit while eating. For nine tasty skewers, the total was only
RM13.50/US$3.55, and I was stuffed.
When finished, I walked back to the Seasons View via Jalan Pudu and Jalan Bukit
Bintang. As the 7-11 on Jalan Bukit Bintang had a huge line, I left to visit the less-crowded
7-11 on Jalan Alor (across the street from the Seasons View) to pick up a some soda waters
(RM1.40 — though I later discovered the independent convenience store on the Seasons
View side of the street was selling them cold for RM1.20). Too nice of an evening to sit
inside, I sat down at one of the outdoor tables for the Seasons View cafe (they didn't mind)
and wrote a bit in my journal.
At 11:50pm I returned to the room to take a shower and do some laundry in the
shower as well. Turning on the TV, I caught an English-language news broadcast (Channel
2) from 12:00am-12:15am, followed by a different English newscast from 12:15am-12:30am
on NTV/Channel 7. Taking a bit of time to look up things to do tomorrow, I didn't turn out
the lights until 1:15am.
A few misc. notes: in places like shopping malls, the escallators are reversed from the
U.S. (the "UP" escallator is on the left), and are usually set up so that you must walk
through each floor in order to catch the next escallator in the same direction... "Good
Humor" ice-cream (known as "Ola" in Africa and "Miko" on Mauritius) is known as "Walls"
here... "Nandos", the chain of hot & healthy peri-peri chicken restaurants popular in South
Africa, is expanding in Malaysia, with 9 current locations and a planned 25... the various
prayer times throughout the day are printed in the newspapers... as with the rest of the
world, cel phones are extremely popular in Malaysia (perhaps because the payphones here
never work)... KL is a very walkable city, and nothing is too far away that you can't walk to it
if you enjoy brisk walking... and "Bukit" is the Malay word for "hill."
Something interesting today: even with it being December 25th, I was surprised at
how many people asked if I celebrated Christmas. The Indian gentleman at the picture
frame store asked, as did the Muslim cashier at the Butterfly Park (to which she would wish
people a Merry Christmas if they answered yes). Though a few shops were closed (a
motorbike repair shop or two, and of course the Telekom Malaysia Museum), most
everything else was open.
Dec. 26: Kuala Lumpur
It was a nice thought, but the complimentary newspaper being shoved under the
door at 5:56am woke me up. Not having much luck with going back to sleep, I decided to
get up and look for some ideas on what to do today. Skipping breakfast, I left early, and
noticed yet another intersection with poor signage: right at Jalan Bukit Bintang and Jalan
Pudu (a major intersection), the signs as to which street is which are extremely confusing.
The first thing I wanted to do was take the monorail mentioned in the Lonely Planet...
but it was hard to find that morning for the one simple reason that it hasn't been finished
yet! The book shows the monorail on all its maps (with a notation that it'll be completed in
1999), but the reality is that when Malaysia's economy became shaky a few years ago,
construction was halted, and the project is far from complete (along parts of Jalan Pudu are
concrete support structures left abandoned, with no track or train above them). When I
stopped to ask the Indian clerk at a small store about it, he said "not finished yet" — but
construction on it has now resumed, and when finished, it will reach the Jalan Bukit
Bintang area.
With the monorail not being available, I decided to take the Star LRT (light rail)
instead (there are two LRTs: the Star LRT line is above ground, and the Putra LRT line is
underground). Walking towards the Hang Tuah Station, I turned the wrong way, but a nice
older Chinese security guard pointed me back in the right direction, where the station was
only a few minutes walk away.
The LRT operates like metros in many countries in which you buy a flimsy card,
insert it, and keep it until you reach your destination, where you'll insert it once more to
exit. Since the ticket was cheap enough (RM1.20/US32c), I decided to buy a second one to
keep as a souvenir. At the station were signs advertising available service-sector jobs, and
on the LRT itself was a sign indicating a RM500/US$131.58 fine for eating, smoking, or
littering. Wanting to go to the Chow Kit Street area, I took the Star LRT to a station which
for some reason was NOT listed on my city tourist map: Pasar Seni, between Sultan Ismael
and the Putra World Trade Centre Stations.
The area around Chow Kit Street has a lively morning market (mostly Malay, though
there are some Indian and Chinese stalls as well). For RM10/US$2.63, one vendor had a T-
shirt for the Orange County California Planet Hollywood, not to far from where I live (and
ironically, recently closed). The VCDs here were among the cheapest in Malaysia, with most
vendors asking RM5, and one vendor selling them for 3-for-RM10/US$2.63 (having missed
seeing "The Emperor's New Groove" at home, I thought about buying it on VCD here, but
passed). While there are people selling VCDs and T-shirts, most of the marketplace consists
of dozens of stalls selling fresh fruits, nuts, peppers, spices, meats, and other foodstuffs —
and it's quite crowded, even in the morning.
Knowing now that KL weather this time of year tends to be nice in the morning but
rainy in the afternoon, I decided to head for the Petronas Towers while it was still sunny.
The Towers are argueably the tallest buildings in the world (if you count the masts), and are
a landmark of the city and an icon of KL. With it being such a nice morning, I thought I'd
try walking there even though it was quite far... on my side was the fact that you can see the
Towers from most points in the city, but working against me was the way maps of KL tend to
be inaccurate. Still, it was a nice walk...
From the Chow Kit area, I walked down Jalan Raja Alang — and stopping at a 7-11
for a snack (as I had skipped breakfast), found a UFO-catcher (a claw machine in which you
insert coins and try to grab yourself a stuffed animal) playing "Odoru Pompokorin" (the
theme song to the popular Japanese cartoon "Chibi Maruko-chan"), exactly like the UFO-
catchers I had seen in South Africa a year earlier. Chuckling, I ate my snack and continued
on my way. The shady streets in the area were quiet this morning, and very pleasant to walk
down. The area has a relaxed feel to it quite different than the rest of hectic KL — laundry
was drying from the windows, guys were out leisurely working on their motorbikes in the
shade, and perhaps with not many tourists walking around here, people were quite friendly
(a man I passed greeted me with "Merry Christmas"). A bit later, I came across an obvious
night market area where Jalan Raja Alang and Jalan Raja Muda Musa meet, and though the
stalls were now quiet, I'm sure the area becomes quite busy in the evenings. According to
the tourist map I had, the small street Jalan Raja Ali crosses the river and goes through to
the other side — but it actually doesn't (it dead ends at a large concrete wall supporting the
highway and bordering the river). Reaching the wall, I realized I'd have to walk all the way
around, as no street in the area crossed the river — so having no choice, I walked back all
the way to busy Jalan Sultan Ismail (which does indeed cross the river).
Walking down Jalan Ampang towards the Petronas Towers, I stopped in at the
Malaysian Tourist Information complex, located inside a large historic mansion with
beautiful grounds (far enough removed from the street that you can't tell if it's open or
closed without approaching it). Inside, I found one of the few Tourism Malaysia officials
without a cold shoulder (perhaps becuase he was Chinese, not Malay), who told me that due
to the holidays (Hari Raya), the nearby Petronas Towers were closed until January 2nd.
When I then asked about visiting the Batu Caves (located a short distance outside of town),
he said there would be a bus tour leaving at 2:30pm (R35/US$9.21), but looking me over,
guessed I wouldn't be interested in a guided tour (he was right). So instead, he told me to
get to the caves on my own (by catching Bus 11D near the Bangkok Bank behind the
Central Market or Bus 69 from the Pudu Bus Station) — but his information that "the bus
leaves every two hours" was incorrect — the buses actually come quite frequently, as unless
it was an amazing coincidence, I never had to wait more than a couple of minutes for a bus
in either direction.
Since I had walked quite a ways to reach the Petronas Towers and was practially
already there, I decided to finish the walk, and reached the Towers within a matter of
minutes. The two 88-story Towers are based on an 8-sided star pattern with Islamic
designs and motifs molded out of shiny silver steel, complete with fountains out front with
plenty of tourists busy taking pictures. There is no public observation deck in either of the
towers (and security is tight), but the public is allowed up in controlled groups to the 41F
"Sky Bridge" which connects the two buildings, though its closure this week meant I'd have
to return at the very end of my trip in February.
Walking inside the Towers, I saw the sign indicating that due to Hari Raya and
Christmas, the Sky Bridge would be closed until January 2nd. On a longshot, I asked the
two guards if it would somehow be possible to go up anyway, but they politely said no.
Deciding to have a quick look at the attached shopping center, I missed many of the better
shops (finding them only upon my return in February), but did check out the dull, boring
"mall" portion of the complex — no different than a multi-story American shopping mall with
expensive trendy shops and franchised fast-food outlets (including Famous Amos, charging
R3.40/US90c a cookie). However, there is an Isetan in the mall (a Japanese department
store), and I managed to find some "Shige Kicks" candy in their food basement (Japanese
"shock" sour gumi candies that really give you a kick when you put them in your mouth... I
really got hooked on them while in Japan a few years ago). Even though they were
expensive here I picked up a few — though I couldn't figure out why the Orange flavor had a
different price (RM5.40/US1.42 vs. RM5.20/US$1.37 for the other flavors). Schweppes
Grapefruit soda was also on sale for RM1.09/US29c, so I bought a can of that as well.
Hanging in Isetan was a sign indicating that the store would close at 8:00pm tonight, and
would remain closed on Dec. 27 and Dec. 28 for Hari Raya (Sogo also had a similar sign).
Deciding to get something to eat, I ordered an egg-on-toast at the "1901" Takeaway
(one slice of toast and an egg for RM4.70/US$1.24), and during the 15 minutes it took to
make, I walked over to a nearby bakery selling egg tarts for only RM1/US26c.
When finished at the Towers, I took the LRT from KLCC to the Central Market to
catch the bus to the Batu Caves. Outside the Central Market, I asked a policeman where
Bus 11D leaves from and was told to "wait there" — but I knew that was incorrect, as it's
supposed to leave from next to the Bangkok Bank building. Asking someone else on the
street, I was told (correctly) to go to the Bangkok Bank as he pointed it out. As I approached
the bank, I noticed the 11D bus leaving its stop and heading towards me. Flagging it down,
the driver stopped to pick me up, and the fare all the way to the caves was only
RM1.60/US42c (as I didn't have the exact change though, I put in RM2). There were other
tourists on the bus, and the 30-minute ride out of town takes you through some nice quiet
residential areas before leaving you off just across the street from the start of the entrance to
the caves.
At the entrance is a nice Indian-style structure and a line of hawkers selling water,
snacks, and peanuts (to feed to the monkeys). The caves are reached by a 272-step
staircase... I know this because walking up, I was behind a small group of Japanese tourists
counting the stairs as they went. At the top, one of them shouted "ah — koumori!" ("ah —
bats!"), but she was mistaken, for the "bats" turned out to be just a group of birds. There
are plenty of monkeys around though, and they're constantly looking for handouts, often
drinking from discarded soda cans or even a baby bottle. The caves themselves have
stalagtites, dripping water, and an Indian religious hut used for praying (local Indians make
a pilgrimage here on certain holidays), and while the caves are mildly interesting, if you only
have limited time in the KL area and wind up missing them, it's not a great loss.
As it was sunny and hot walking back down the stairs, I bought a can of 100 PLUS
soda out by the main entrance to drink while waiting for the bus — but no sooner did I buy
it than the bus came by (without exact change again, I wound up paying another RM2 for
the RM1.60 fare). On the trip out to the caves, some of the areas we passed closer to town
looked pretty interesting, so on the way back, I decided to get off early and explore the last
leg of the trip on foot.
Leaving the bus quite a bit earlier, I started walking back to the center of town along
Jalan Ipoh... there were no tourists here — just lots of everyday businesses and shops,
including an area full of house and bath supply shops (selling tile, sinks, fixtues, etc).
Noticing a McDonald's across the street, I jaywalked across busy Jalan Ipoh to buy a soft-
serve cone only to find out it was probably the only McDonald's in all of Malaysia that didn't
sell ice-cream.
After walking for quite a while, I finally came to Jalan Raja Laut, and continued down
the street to the center of town. Jalan Raja Laut has a lot of interesting, inexpensive shops
on it: one store selling watches as cheap as RM9.95/US$2.62 also had good prices on
Chinese electronics and household items... across the street and just a bit further down
were two wholesale watch shops where you could buy low-cost watches (single or bulk) quite
reasonably cheap... passing the "Bestel" Hotel (where rooms were RM75), a sign on the door
said "NO DURIANS, RM1,000 FINE"... further down Jalan Raja Laut was an inexpensive
food and clothing shop selling nice polo shirts for RM16.80/US$4.42, and though I didn't
buy anything, the items here were much cheaper than at other places.
Heading south back to the center of KL, Jalan Raja Laut becomes boring once you
reach Jalan Sultan Ismail, but I continued walking until arriving at Sogo. There I found
more Shige Kicks for sale (at RM5.20/US$1.37 for all flavors), and picked up a few. In the
basement food area I bought two McDonald's chocolate soft-serve cones, and as I had
developed a small blister on my foot from walking too much with a new pair of sandals,
bought some terrible German-made Band-Aids (which didn't stick at all) at the small
pharmacy (RM1.50 for just a few).
From Sogo I walked to the Central Market, thinking I should buy a pair of socks for
myself since the Band-Aids weren't working. There, the shops selling socks were asking
RM12-RM15/US$3.16-US$3.95 for just one pair, but on a longshot, I asked at an Indian-
run clothing store if they sold socks, and was shown a pair of brown socks for
RM3.50/US92c. Still continuing to look though, I went upstairs and noticed the music
store which had been closed the other day — inside, everything from Chinese-made student
violins (starting at RM350/US$92.11) to Dominant strings were for sale. I talked with the
young Chinese owner for a few minutes, but soon went downstairs to buy the RM3.50 socks
— as every other shop was asking quite a bit more.
Sitting down on the floor by the front entrance to take my sandals off and put the
socks on, I heard a "hello!" coming from somewhere. Looking up, I saw the mother and
daughter from South Carolina I had met at the Bird Park yesterday. The mom had
developed a blister wearing sandals as well, and thanked me for my suggestion to eat at
Jalan Alor (where they had lunch earlier in the day).
From the Central Market I wanted to head to Chinatown and look around the Jalan
Petaling area during the day, as so far I had been there only early in the morning or at night.
Knowing it would probably rain soon, I started on my way... and once there, I only had a
little time to look around before the rain came at 3:50pm. Heading for S&M Plaza and Koto
Raya, I had plenty of time to look around there again, as the rain only became heavier as the
afternoon wore on.
The VCD shops on the lower level of S&M Plaza are cheaper than the outside stalls,
with most charging only RM4-RM5 rather than the RM6-RM7+ charged outside (computer
CD-ROMs are also quite cheap here, at RM9 rather than RM10-20 from the street vendors).
New titles arrive on bootleg VCD almost daily, with movies such as "Family Man" (which just
came to US theatres on December 22nd) already for sale on VCD. Today I noticed a VCD
shop in the S&M basement selling some of my favorite Japanese animation on both VCDs
and all-region DVDs: "Kimagure Orange Road Memoir" (VCD... RM9.95/US$2.62),
Mononoke Hime (VCD... RM12.95/US$3.41), "Shin Kimagure Orange Road" (DVD,
RM$69.99/US$18.42), the Studio Ghibli films sold separately (DVD, RM69.99/US$18.42
each) or as a set (RM240/US$63.16 — which went down to RM200/US$52.63 when I asked
about them later in February). While the store had a VCD player to demonstrate VCDs on,
they had no DVD player — and the packaging on the 4-DVD set (mentioning 11 movies on
one side and only 10 on the other) didn't reassure me.
From both the S&M entrance as well as from the window of a CD store, I could see
the lightning bolts and hear the loud thunder which quickly followed. For a while, I joined
everyone in sitting on the entrance steps (even though there's a notice saying not to do so),
just watching the rain come down. While sitting there, a young Chinese lady came up to me
with a questionaire on internet e-travel services in Malaysia, which she asked me to fill out
(with questions such as "do you feel safe buying over the internet?", "do you have a
computer?", "what would you like to see in a travel site?", etc). As I was finishing the
questionaire, the police came up to ask a couple of locals sitting down to produce
documents, but didn't bother anyone else... and while the restroom at S&M has a
RM0.20/US5c fee for cleaning, it was pretty dirty inside.
With the rain finally letting up, I walked to the skewer restaurant where I had eaten
at the night before. Due to the rain, they needed another 15 minutes to set up and get
ready (I sat down and waited), and soon I was once again eating wonderfully fresh seafood
and pork, having ten "regular" sticks (RM1.50 each) and two "short" abalone sticks (RM3.00
each), bringing the total to just RM21/US$5.53 for a filling, delicious meal. Sitting there
relaxing with all the good food, I realized that my flight would be leaving in a few hours, at
1:20am.
Walking back towards the hotel, I stopped to call MAS to make sure my flight was
still leaving on time... and along the way, also stopped at an internet cafe to check my email.
Earlier at the Central Market, I saw a sign advertising a rate of RM4/hr or RM1/15mins for
a nearby internet cafe, but here it was RM4/hr or RM3/30mins. Still, they allowed telnet
(my preferred method of checking email, even though this time I had set up a mail-forward
to a temporary web-based account), and I was able to catch up on all my mail for
RM3/US79c for a half-hour.
Finally reaching the hotel (passing the Puduraya Bus Station area along the way and
continuing up the light-lined street towards the Jalan Bukit Bintang area), I took a shower,
re-packed, and relaxed in the room. On TV was the Malaysian version of "Who Wants To Be
A Millionaire" (in Malay) followed by the local version of "Wheel of Fortune." Downstairs, I
received my room deposit back from reception (I had paid with cash rather than a credit
card), and with about 30 minutes left before I'd have to leave for the airport, took a leisurely
walk down Jalan Alor.
Seasons View had called the Airport Shuttle for me, and with Jalan Alor being
typically crowded this time of night, the driver came a few minutes early. Grabbing my bag,
I hopped in for the ride to the half-way station. As the Malay driver was quite friendly and
spoke decent English, we chatted a bit... he asked if I had seen certain sights, and
mentioned that as he had to work during Hari Raya, he would go back to his hometown
after the holiday period. At the transfer station (to the large bus), I paid the RM25 fare,
offering some Shige Kicks to the Muslim ladies behind the counter (the one lady brave
enough to accept some soon convinced her colleague to try them as well).
While checking in for the flight at the airport, I asked the MAS agent if the plane was
sold out or not (curious, as when making my reservation a few months back, this one
segment was highly overbooked, with only one agent with a friend at MAS being able to
squeeze me in — at $100 more than other agents who couldn't get me the seat). The agent
told me it was only about 25% full, but that wasn't true: on board, about 90% of the seats
were taken, and I was seated right in the middle of a huge group of mainland Chinese
tourists before being able to find another seat by a window.
Before boarding I had time to look around the airport, but as the hour became late
and the shops closed, KLIA became very quiet. After exploring the airport a bit (there are
Muslim prayer areas for both men and women, as well as a hotel), I relaxed in an empty
waiting area to catch on up CNN. I also used the otherwise-useless KLIA telephone cards I
had bought earlier to make a few calls, noting that the phones displayed a BARRED CALL
message when trying to call the 800 access number for Time Kontact — though I don't know
if it was intentional or just a glitch, as returning back in February, calls to Time Kontact
from the airport went through. Finally it was time to head for the gate, and soon I was being
herded into a secured area with everyone else waiting for the red-eye flight.
A few misc. things: the ambulances in KL are silent, with their sirens turned off... the
national language of the country is Bahasa Malaysia (Malay), and many words seem to have
been borrowed from English... the sidewalks of KL aren't always smooth, but it's still a very
walkable city — though the traffic can be horrible... the local Chinese and Indian population
speak English (plus Malay and their own language as well) much better than most Malays...
and people jaywalk everywhere, even where pedestrian overpasses have been built.
While efforts are sometimes made to bring the three major ethnic groups in Malaysia
(Malay, Chinese, Indian) together, one can sense tension beneath the surface, and people
tend to stay in groups of their own kind. There is a rigid affirmative-action program in effect
in the country guaranteeing native Malays certain jobs and barring Chinese, Indian, and
other non-Malays from applying for them (in the paper, the available-jobs notices will often
mention if only a native Malay will be considered for the position). Political power and policy
is definitely set by (and for) native Malays, though economic power is held mostly by the
country's Chinese (non-Malays are excluded from much of the political system, meaning
many Chinese and Indians have become entrepaneurs). There seems to be a sometimes-
spoken, sometimes-unspoken jealously between Malays and their more affluent Chinese-
Malaysian neighbors, and the politics of race and affirmative action is a touchy subject in
the country.
Recently, when the Election Appeals Committee of Siqiu (a Malaysian-Chinese
organization) commented that the special favoritism granted native Malays should end, an
uproar soon followed — so the organization backtracked somewhat. Here's an article I saw
on my first day in Malaysia:
The Suqiu committee said today it supported the special positions
of the Malays and the continuation of the Government's affirmative
action programmes, taking into consideration the nation's current state
of affairs. "...Further to an earlier statement issued by the Suqiu
committee on Dec. 22, we reaffirm our commitment to the continuation
of affirmative action programmes for the truly needy in this country.
In this context, we support the 'special positions of the Malays and
natives of any of the States of Sabah and Sarawak' as provided for by
Article 153 of the Federal Constitution," the committee said in a
statement... Article 153 of the Federal Constitution touches on
reservation of quotas in respect of services, permits, etc., for
Malays and natives of any of the States of Sabah and Sarawak. Suqiu
had, before the 1999 general election, submitted a 17-point memorandum
with 83 demands, including a request to abolish Malay rights. It
drew severe criticism and protests from various groups, organisations,
community leaders, and politicians... At a sitting earlier this month,
(the Prime Minister) had said the Government could not entertain
demands by Suqiu as it was tantamont to abolishing Malay rights and
could result in chaos...
Here's an excerpt from another newspaper article on the subject from February, with
the headline of "Malays Have Nothing To Fear":
Malays need not fear for the future as their rights have been
enshrined in the Federal Constitution and through the New Economic
Policy (NEP). This was the message given by Finance Ministry adviser
Datuk Mustapa Mohamed and parliamentary secretary at the Prime
Minister's Department Datuk Noh Omar when speaking with Universiti
Sains Malaysia students... Noh said Article 152 of the Federal
Constitution refers to Bahasa Malaysia as the national language which
has to be used in all official matters, including correspondence...
He said that Article 153 refers to Malay reserve land, services,
permits and their special rights according to Article 153(1)...
Article 159 states that before amending the above articles on Malay
rights, the Malay rulers had to give their consent, otherwise,
parliament could not interfere in these rights through any
amendments, he said... Noh also said Article 181(1) guarantees the
rights of the Malay rulers and their special status... (Mustapa) said
that Malays here did not have to fight like the farmers in Zimbabwe
to forcibly take over control of farms from white settlers, because
Malays here have reserve lands and they have been given a piece of
the economic pie. "They are given opportunities to be involved in
businesses which give them the chance to learn and earn and become
successful and affluent just like the non-Malays," Mustapa said.
Dec. 27: Cape Town (South Africa)
The long red-eye flight to Cape Town tonight would first land in Johannesburg, but
that was still quite a few hours away. On the plane, I managed to sleep a little between the
multiple warnings to return to the seat due to turbulence, but only for short intervals.
Finally landing in Johannesburg, we were allowed to disembark and wait in a secured
section of the airport, but the area had no ATM or telephone card dispenser, and we weren't
allowed to wander off. When I asked an employee if there was a place to buy a telephone
card, she pointed the way to a Telkom office which was supposed to open at 6:00am, but
walking there, I found it dark and closed, and even when we began reboarding the flight at
6:20am, no one had shown up. In the meantime, the coffee stand had opened at 6:00am, so
I hung out there talking with an older South African couple (originally from Britain) and the
waitress about our recent American election. Once open, I also had a look inside the main
duty-free shop, and was surprised to see Nando's peri-peri sauces available for sale in
souvenir take-home bottles.
On board the plane again, our takeoff to Cape Town was delayed by 1hr 20mins
because three passengers didn't re-board as they were supposed to. With a list of
passengers, the stewardesses walked through the aisles asking people their names as they
tried to figure out who was missing. Once the identities of the missing passengers had been
ascertained, we then had to wait as a search was done for their checked-in baggage (so it
could be removed) — though in the end, it turned out none of the three passengers had
checked in any bags.
Finally in the air again, it was another 1hr 50mins to Cape Town, and before landing,
the stewardesses walked through the aisles spraying the plane with disinfectant (though I
have no idea why they did this before arriving into Cape Town, as they didn't spray before
landing in Johannesburg). Looking down at the thousands of shanties below, I remembered
what Paula (of One City Tours) said last year: that she knows it's soap opera time when the
planes start flying overhead.
Standing in line at Cape Town immigration, I had a sense of deja vu... one year ago at
the same time of day in the same sunny weather, I was here in the same line, waiting for the
entry stamps. There was a shorter wait this year, but the lady stamped my passport with a
visa expiring Feb. 1st (the day I'd be leaving South Africa back for Malaysia) — though I
wondered what would happen if I wound up needing a few extra days in the country. Unlike
KLIA, the baggage at Cape Town airport came out quickly, so I soon found myself looking for
an ATM and a place to buy a telephone card.
There's construction going on at the airport, and a sign indicating that the new
international arrivals terminal would be finished by December 2000 (oh well...) Hopefully
when it finally is completed, someone will think to install an ATM and a telephone card
dispenser at the terminal — for even though these are arguably the two most important
services needed for incoming international passengers, you have to walk over to the
domestic terminal to find them. Once at the domestic departures area, one ATM had a
"closed" sign on it, and the other dispensed my request using only R50 notes. Needing
change now for the telephone card machine, no shop would give it to me (the bank had a
long queue), so I had to get some by buying a small snack at a kiosk. The rand was very
weak against the dollar (at US$1=R7.5), but by the time I returned to Cape Town in mid-
January, it had fallen to US$1=R7.9. As good as the exchange rate was though, prices
didn't seem to be that much cheaper than they were last year when the rate was
US$1=R6.1, with Q+Q watches still selling for US$30, and very few real bargains.
Though last year I found and stayed at a wonderful B&B in the Oranjezicht area of
town (Bridle's), the B&B was booked for some of the days I'd need to stay with them... so the
owners instead set me up with a friend of theirs just starting a B&B in the nearby
Vredehoek area. Because I was exhausted from the flight and just wanted to get to town, I
didn't call the B&B from the airport even though I probably should have (as the owner would
have come to pick me up). Instead, I looked for the Intercape airport shuttle office — but
Intercape no longer operates an airport shuttle. I thought about calling Rikkis at first (as
they do an airport shuttle for a cheaper price), but didn't want to wait for them to have to
drive to the airport from town (otherwise I would have just called the B&B)... so I walked up
to the other shuttle company booths to ask their prices: there were 3-4 choices, and though
the first one charged R90/US$12, their van had just left (I saw it leave before entering the
building). Not wanting to wait, the lady showed me to another booth which first wanted
R110, but then agreed to R90 (I wound up being the only passenger).
Driving into town, the weather was typical for Cape Town this time of year: warm
termperatures with sunny skies, and a cloud just over Table Mountain. Arriving at
11:30am, I didn't have R90 in change, so just paid the driver R100 as the owner of the B&B
(Kritz Odendaal) came out to greet me. Located on Pinetree Crescent in Vredehoek (off of
Derry Street, and just below the left-most of the three ugly "silo"-shaped apartment blocks),
Kritz has a nice house with a separate attached structure for the B&B — though as he is
just starting the B&B (I was his first guest), he's in the process of building onto the unit,
changing it slightly, and making a braai (BBQ) area in the front. A nice retired Afrikaaner
who used to work with newspapers and advertising, Kritz greeted me alone today, as his wife
was away for a few days helping their daughter nurse a cold and look after the grandkids.
Though the room has no air-con, it's still quite a nice place, with a ceiling-fan, its own
bath/shower, a refrigerator, a new Konka color TV, and plenty of space. It's still very much
a work-in-progress (in fact Kritz installed the closet shelves later that afternoon while I was
out walking), and I'm sure will be even better when complete. The view of Cape Town below
isn't as impressive as from Bridle's (it's partially obstructed here), but is nice enough, with a
good view of Robben Island in the distance (there are also plenty of guinea fowl wandering
the streets up here).
Looking from downtown, Vredehoek is located up on the hillside just a bit to the left
of Oranjezicht, and is an extra 10 minutes further to walk to. Kritz also has an apartment
closer to the center of town where his daughter used to live, and when he's finished fixing
up the first place, he's going to set up the other flat for longer-term rentals.
In the driveway of the B&B were two cars: an older gold Honda Prelude and a newer
white Honda Ballade/Civic (the same car I drive at home). When I mentioned to Kritz I have
the same car, he said he was considering selling the Ballade in order to buy a Dodge Neon
instead, as the Neons are (relatively) cheap in South Africa — but I advised him against
doing it.
With it being a beautiful sunny day, I immediately wanted to go out and walk around
Cape Town. Leaving me off at the V&A Waterfront in his car (Kritz didn't yet realize how
much I love to walk to-and-from town), I received a short tour of the neighborhood along the
way. With the weather as wonderful as it was, the last thing I wanted to do was spend time
inside a shopping complex, so after walking inside just to ask how much a disposable
camera was (an expensive R50/US$6.66 for one without flash), I immediately turned around
and walked back out.
Outside the V&A, I called the local office of Curnow Shipping (the company currently
running the RMS St. Helena ship I'd be taking in a few days) to let them know I was in town
and find out where the ship was docked: it was to arrive in at "J Berth" of Duncan Docks
later today, and embarkation would begin at 11:00am on Saturday. Duncan Docks is the
"real" dock area of Cape Town, down from the artificial made-for-tourists V&A (from where
only pleasure cruises and the Robben Island ferry depart). Deciding to find the ship and
have an early look at it (and get a heads up for Saturday), I asked around at the V&A on
how to get to Duncan Docks — but almost no one there could give me directions, as it's not
a place that concerns most tourists. Duncan Docks is part of the large Cape Town docks
area neighboring the V&A, but is a world apart in both appearance and functionality. Its
entrance is at the CalTex station just outside the V&A's gate, and once inside this industrial
area, it's very easy to get lost, as there are no signs or directions to tell you where the
various berths are located. With only some general directions, I tried in vain a few times to
locate the RMS, but as it took quite a while to walk the long distances with each try, I finally
decided to give up for the time being and try again later.
Heading downtown, I stopped at the Hungry Lion on Adderly Street for an
R0.85/US11c soft-serve cone (McDonald's nearby was asking R0.99 for their cones), and
just as I had done a year earlier, spent some time looking inside Woolworths, Edgars, and
the other shops along Adderly Street. Woolworths was expensive, and though Edgars did
have a nice polo shirt for R59/US$7.87, its sleeves were too long. Walking into the Golden
Acre Centre, I ordered an egg-toast sandwich for takeaway (R11/US$1.47) from a small
snack shop near Wimpy's before looking around at some of the shops inside. Walking
around a bit more, I was surprised at how quiet Greenmarket Square was today, with only
two or three hawkers out in the pedestrian mall. Wanting to look for some cheap clothes, I
decided to walk over to the wholesale area of town, but most of the shops there were closed,
with signs on a few indicating they were closed for Eid (the same as Hari Raya, I believe).
Later in the afternoon I decided to head back to the V&A (as it's one of the few places
in town where the shops are always open), and spent a couple hours walking around the
overpriced tourist area. At the red crafts barn outside the main mall, nothing had changed:
I found the stall where I bought two overpriced pillow covers and a T-shirt last year still
there selling the same items, though the barn now closes at 7:00pm instead of 6:00pm (just
for this week closing time was 6:00pm due to the holidays). In the main shopping building,
the 1F T-shirt shop "Greatest Little T-Shirt Shop in the Whole World" should be renamed
"Most Expensive T-Shirt Shop in the Whole World" — as they wanted an incredible (for
South Africa) R130/US$17.33 for a T-shirt with a tiny embroidered flag. As I commented in
last year's African Travelogue, the V&A is the biggest tourist rip-off in Cape Town, and I
wasn't surprised to see that nothing in that respect had changed. As with last year, the only
shops offering decent prices on their wares were the two AudioLens camera stores (with
average prices on Fuji film, and no-flash disposable cameras going for R39.95/US$5.33
rather than the R50 everyone else was charging), and the official Ngwenya Glass shop,
which was selling their items for very good prices (much less than the neighboring souvenir
shops were selling them for).
Walking up to the 2F of the V&A, I noticed a bomb bag on the wall ("Barrett Bomb
Bag") with a picture of two popular bomb types (the Mini Limpett type 158 and the Soviet
SPM), along with directions on how to use the bag. While malls in most countries might
have fire extinguishers, in Africa, bomb bags are common in places like this, and I
remembered that the first time I saw such a bag was last year in Windhoek, Namibia.
In one of the CD shops, I noticed a CD for sale called "District Six: The Musical", and
going back to one of the AudioLens camera stores, I bought a disposable Fuji camera (no
flash) for R39.95/US$5.33. The Pic 'N Pay supermarket had a no-flash disposable Kodak for
R36.99, but the import Kodak disposables never indicate what film speed is used in them,
so I opted for the Fuji. In the Pic 'N Pay however, I did buy a bottle of fresh orange/guava
juice, as it's virtually impossible to find 100% pure orange juice (by itself) in South Africa.
Finished with the V&A, I was feeling a bit disappointed that I had been unable to
locate the ship earlier... so being a bit stubborn, I decided to forgo returning back to the
B&B in favor of heading back to Duncan Docks for another go at trying to find the RMS.
Asking directions, I walked down the long road (for the third time today) to finally see the
ship's yellow funnel sticking up above a building. Satisfied, I decided to call it a day.
Walking back to the B&B, I followed the same general route I had come to know so
well last year, though further up the hill at the 7-11 (which no longer had an "Odoru
Pompokorin"-playing UFO-catcher), I veered to the left to head toward Vredehoek. Walking
briskly, I left the CalTex station by the V&A/Duncan Docks entrance at 6:10pm, and
stopping briefly at the KwikSpar down the street from Kritz' place for some sodas and
snacks, reached the B&B by 7:15pm.
Earlier in the day, I had left a message with Russell and his wife Judith, whom I had
corresponded with on the internet's St. Helena Mailing List (they had taken the RMS to St.
Helena the previous year)... locals in the area, they invited me to give them a call when I was
in town. Walking in at the B&B that evening, Kritz mentioned that Russell had phoned
while I was out, so I gave him a call back. Russell teaches sailing right at Duncan Docks,
and talking to him on the phone, we arranged to meet tomorrow, when I'd join his class for a
sail in the morning.
Having had a long day with a lot of walking, I asked Kritz if it'd be OK to use his
phone to call Mr. Delivery (for pizza) — but instead, Kritz offered to drive to dinner
somewhere. We settled on Nando's (it was Kritz's first time eating there), where I ordered
two single chicken burgers with extra-spicy peri-peri, and shared an order of spicy rice.
After returning back to the B&B, the day was beginning to catch up with me, and it was
hard to keep awake. I managed to stay up for a bit to catch up on the journal, but as soon
as I was finished, I immediately went to sleep.
Dec. 28: Cape Town
I woke up this morning to heavy rain — in the middle of summer! Wondering if the
sailing class would still be held (Kritz commented "of course! — if it's a South African
teaching it!"), I called Russell to check... and sure enough, he was planning to teach and sail
today, even with the rain. Since I couldn't walk down to the docks with the weather the way
it was, Kritz volunteered to take me down in the car.
With a bit more time now, I had a chance to talk with Kritz over breakfast. Retired
now, he worked in the newspaper and and advertising business for most of his life, holding
pretty much the same political views as most white South Africans his age (and most white
South Africans in general): unhappy with the ANC, he was delighted that they had lost seats
in Cape Town during the recent local elections.
Driving around the dock area in the rain with Kritz after breakfast, it wasn't easy
finding the non-descript building where Russell was teaching, as most buildings didn't have
signs indicating what they were — though I did see a dark blue VW kombi with "Tristan da
Cunha" painted on it (as I would later find out, it belongs to Tristan House, a place run by a
Tristanian living in the area, where fellow Tristanians visiting Cape Town for medical
reasons or holidays can stay). At 9:30am we finally located the correct building (very close
to where the RMS was berthed), and I walked up to the 2F where Russell was teaching his
class. Five students were in class that morning (most having sailed before), and Russell was
covering subjects ranging from right-of-way to the correct sail adjustments for various wind
conditions.
Though still cloudy, the rain subsided for a bit, so we decided to leave the classroom
and go out for a sail in the 34ft boat belonging to the school's owner. Because of the rain
and weak wind, the on-board motor was used most of the time... leaving the slip, we sailed
right past the RMS, as I had my first good look at the ship I'd be spending close to a month
on. With everyone given wet gear to wear, our clothes stayed dry, but I had only sandals
with the Central Market socks for shoes. With it once more starting to drizzle, we passed a
group of large container ships as we headed out for the open water... the sails soon went up
for teaching, though with the lack of wind, the motor remained on. Russell took the boat to
a neighboring marina to deliver a book to someone on a catamaran about to leave for the
Carribean, and walking around the marina's slip area, it was decided that because of the
weather, the class would return back to go over more classwork for the rest of the day, and
instead have an extended overnight sail tomorrow. Anne-Sophie (a student from France
staying on the boat who spoke English quite well from having lived in the US) had been
steering most of the morning, but with Russell's OK, offered me control of the wheel for a
few minutes.
Back on land, we walked into the warm and dry restaurant at the Royal Cape Yacht
Club for a cheap lunch: R24/US$3.20 for "fettucine" (in reality, just noodles & tomato
sauce), though the hot chocolate (served in tall, thin glasses) was excellent. Sitting around
the table, we had a great conversation about everything from electronics to the recent
elections in both South Africa and the US.
After lunch as Russell returned to teaching in the classroom, his wife Judith came by
to pick me up and show me around the Cape in her little 1984 Toyota Corolla. First we tried
to stop at the V&A, as she needed to pick up mail from her PO Box there — but there were
so many cars trying to get into the complex that the wait would have easily been a half-hour
just to reach the parking lot. After about 15 minutes, she decided to try later in the day,
and made a U-turn before reaching the aquarium.
Judith spent the next few hours driving me through various areas of the Cape, taking
me through towns such as Sea Point, exclusive Clifton, Camp's Bay and Haut Bay.
Stopping for an ice-cream along the way, Judith pointed out Chapman's Peak Drive from a
distance before driving me as far as you can currently go on it (6kms along a newly-paved
stretch of road) — the famous drive was closed last year due to a rock fall, and the general
deterioration of the road coupled with a lack of funds for fixing it has kept it closed and its
future very much in doubt. It's a shame, as not only is it one of the few ways to get from
one side of the area to the other, but the views from the famous road make it one of the
Cape's premiere tourist attractions. One idea suggested for raising the necessary repair
funds was charging a tax for the road — but to date, the status of Chapman's Peak has
remained in limbo, with no firm plan on what will be done with it. Driving up as far as we
could (at which point the road is blocked), I got out to take some pictures... looking past the
roadblock, you can see the potholes, mudslides, and severe deterioration of the closed road,
but from the lookout the view was spectacular, and I'm sorry I missed taking the drive last
year before the road was closed.
Driving back into town via Consentia Valley, Noordhoek and Fish Hoek, I recognized
the area as the same that Francois had shown me last year — but this time, I was finally
able to have an idea of the Cape's layout in my head. In the car, Judith and I had some
good conversations as she shared with me her views on the current state of South Africa:
her view of the ANC is that it's bad to have a one-party political system, as it only invites
corruption (currently the ANC has a virtual lock on political power in the country), and
mentioned that unlike other countries, you don't actually vote for a particular person in
South Africa — you vote for their party. Earlier in the day when Kritz was telling me about
the election, he showed me his thumb — marked with a special paint that cannot easily be
removed (to show that someone has voted), and weeks later, I'd still see people walking
around with paint marks on their thumbs. Judith commented on everything from
affirmative action (feeling people are given jobs in which they have no idea what they're
doing) to how small and useless the government retirement scheme in the country is, to how
expensive it is to get a car — with the buyer not only having to afford the price of the vehicle
itself, but having to deal with loan rates above 20%.
While whites in South Africa are still much better off than their black counterparts,
it's important to note that the current economy is hard on everyone: salaries are low, the
rand isn't worth much, and many whites are struggling. Though their struggle can't
compare to the uphill battle the country's black majority faces in obtaining even the most
basic living necessities, it'd certainly be a mistake to believe that whites in South Africa are
all well-off: many hold down multiple jobs (including low-paying, service-sector jobs), and
have to work hard to make ends meet. One thing I noticed over time was how people living
throughout Africa tended to be much friendlier and helpful towards each other (when not
killing one another) than Americans would be in normal, everyday life. Even in South Africa
where there is still a definite interpersonal separation between whites and blacks (and this
attitude usually only showed itself with people of the same race), I was surprised to observe
the friendliness amongst strangers, and a willingness to give assistance to someone instead
of just passing them by, as Americans — at least in much of the US — would most likely do.
After a while, we stopped at the famous little seaside town of Kalkbay, where Russell
and Judith live in a nice old house with 3 dogs, 2 cats, and 7 birds. When Russell came
home from teaching, the two showed me their photo album of St. Helena from last year, and
gave me an idea of what to expect.
With it now being time for dinner, we went out for a walk to get something to eat.
Strolling down the pleasant main street of Kalkbay, Judith commented that the items in the
windows of the expensive antique stores have been there since she was growing up — only
they're a lot more expensive now that the town has become a tourist area. Still, Kalkbay is
nice small town (there's not even an ATM here — the closest one is in nearby Fish Hoek)
situated right at the water, with the train from Cape Town stopping right by the shore.
Walking onto the sand for a minute or two, we soon decided on the Matisse Cafe for dinner,
a nice little place to sit and relax. I opted for a pizza with chicken (having half and giving
the rest to Russell and Judith), and we chatted on everything from music to how South
African banks charge customers to make deposits and withdrawls from a teller.
After dinner Russell and Judith drove me back to the B&B, and though there wasn't
too much to write about today, it really was quite nice spending it with Russell and Judith.
Returning to the B&B at 10:50pm, there was a note on my refrigerator mentioning that due
to the main house refrigerator breaking, Kritz had put a few of his items in mine just until
the main one could be fixed tomorrow. After writing a few notes in my journal, I went to
sleep about an hour later.
Dec. 29: Cape Town
Walking down the street to the KwikSpar this morning to pick up some Omo laundry
soap for the ship, I noticed that the KwikSpar (two blocks down on Derry, open 7am-9pm)
was more expensive than even the 7-11 just a few blocks away. I was also hoping to pick up
a cheap disposable shaver, but the KwikSpar sold only the expensive refillable ones. It's
interesting to note that the 7-11s in South Africa aren't part of the international 7-11 chain
— nor are they open 24rs... when I asked a cashier at one once what their hours were, I
received a look indicating I must be stupid, with her reply being "from 7 to 11."
It was a beautiful day, and after chatting with Kritz over a nice breakfast, I left at
9:00am to walk into town, stopping first at the Gardens Centre for a look around. There in
a stationary store, I bought a lotto ticket for R2/US27c (I didn't win), and inside Clicks (a
general drug/sundries store that's part of the Pick 'N Pay chain), I bought a cheap
Philishave 30 battery-operated travel shaver on sale for R99/US$13.20. As the camera store
in the Centre was asking an incredible R85/US$11.33 for a disposable camera with flash, I
passed on that, but did pick up a nail clipper at the pharmacy.
Leaving the Gardens Centre, I backtracked a bit to walk over to Kloof Street. The
map I had showed that the small residential street I was on would intersect and connect
with the street I was trying to reach, and though it did for pedestrians (after walking up
some steps), if I was driving a car, I would have come to a dead end.
Walking down Kloof Street, I noticed the listings in a reality office window: homes in
this area typically ranged from US$100,000-US$150,000 — though one was going for a
hefty US$433,000. On the other side of the street was a shop called "Melissa's: The Food
Store", which was much like a California "Trader Joes" only on a smaller scale (I bought a
brownie before continuing my walk down the street).
After a while, Kloof St. turns into Long Street, and while passing a travel agency,
noticed a sign in its window advertising an internet connection for R0.40/min — but going
in and using the service for only 5 minutes, I was charged R5 (a minimum perhaps? It
wasn't mentioned on the sign). With the lady busy helping another client, I figured it wasn't
worth the time to wait and ask about the R3/US40c difference (especially as most of the
other internet cafes in the area were asking R0.50/minute), so I just went on my way.
Finding myself back near Adderly & Strand, I bought another R0.85c/US11c soft-
serve cone from Hungry Lion before walking over to the large Cape Town station. Here on
the roof of the station (near the kombi/minivan ranks), a large outdoor marketplace was in
full swing, with dozens of stalls selling everything from T-shirts to toothpaste. Browsing but
not really needing anything, I soon made my way into the nearby GAME store (located in the
Grand Central complex near the station). GAME is one of the better stores in South Africa,
selling everything from electronics to food to hardware at a very reasonable price. There,
Kodak disposable cameras with flash were only R59.99/US$8 (the cheapest in Cape Town),
but I decided to wait for a Fuji disposable instead. Even with the wonderful exchange rate
and a discount store such as GAME, electronics in South Africa were still much more
expensive than in the States. To give you an idea of such prices, GAME was selling the
same Chinese-made Orion DVD player that both Target and WalMart had put on sale for
US$89 in the States the previous month — but even at one of the cheapest stores in the
country, the price was still R1,899/US$253.20. GAME also had the Sony PlayStation 2 in
stock (it was the first time I physically saw one, for in the US it had been in short supply in
the stores and was a popular item up on Ebay) — but not only was it 220V and PAL (the
South African TV standard), but it cost R4,999/US$666.53.
From GAME I walked to the garment district (around Corporation and Barrack
Streets) to look for some cheap clothes. The two places I mentioned in last year's African
Travelogue are still here selling clothes at very cheap prices, but nothing there caught my
eye this time. However, in the same area is also Li's Clothing (29-31 Buitenkant Street —
look for the blue entrance), where boxes full of polo shirts (without pockets) in various colors
were only R10/US$1.33 each. Buying myself a blue one, I left the store and immediately
stumbled upon the new site of the District Six Museum, just a few doors down from Li's
Clothing.
During the Township Tour of Cape Town I took last year, we visited the museum at
its temporary location in an old church a bit out of town... but since then, it has moved to
its current location in a newly rennovated building right here in town. Even though I had
seen the museum and many of its exhibits last year, I spent time looking through it once
again, as there are some excellent new interactive exhibits. These exhibits are wonderful...
you approach a display focusing on music in District Six, and music automatically begins
playing... and there are museum docents walking around eager to answer any questions you
might have, or volunteer information on what life was like in District Six before the area was
razed. Speaking to one of the docents, I found out there is an active effort by the new
government to try to return the land to those who once lived there — and if you can bring in
proof that you lived in the area, you could put in a claim for land. Entrance to the museum
is free (with donations gladly accepted), and it's a must for any visitor to Cape Town.
Making a quick stop at "Costaless" (19 Buitenkant Street), I picked up a Cape Town
souvenir T-shirt for R14.99/US$1.99 (quite a bit better than the R130/US$17.33 the shops
at the V&A were asking for souvenir T-shirts), and picking up an egg & cheese sandwich at a
nearby takeaway, I walked around the area a bit more before returning back to Strand &
Adderly. Once downtown again, I decided to visit the nearby Castle, a landmark in Cape
Town — and about the only site in town I didn't bother to see properly last year (when I had
just looked around briefly after it had closed).
Walking up to the Castle, I saw a sign mentioning a 2:00pm tour, so I paid the
R15/US$2 admission and walked inside. The Castle is the oldest surviving building in Cape
Town (dating back to 1666), and still has many of its original stones... I stayed with the
guide for most of the tour, but wandered off on my own towards the end. Kritz had asked
me to call and check in with him at 2:00pm (as he had wanted to show me a shopping
complex located outside of town later in the day) — but giving him a ring outside the Castle,
I let him know I probably wouldn't be back until dinnertime (it was a beautiful day and there
was other things I wanted to do more than visit a shopping mall).
Walking back up Adderly, the street turns into the Company Gardens (a nice stretch
of green with historic buildings, museums, gardens, and places to relax). There's a new
Jewish Museum in the Gardens, but after walking uphill to reach it, found it closed in the
middle of the afternoon. Turning around to walk back into town, I headed off for the V&A
again, though stopped in first at the large new Cullinan Hotel to use their bathroom (the
hotel always appears to be vacant from a distance because there never seems to be any cars
outside it — but indeed there were people staying there, with the current single rate being
R555/US$74 a night without breakfast).
At the V&A once more, I went to AudioLens to pick up a Fuji Superia 800 disposable
camera with flash (R69.95/US$9.33), as I didn't have a flash unit for my Canon AE-1
Program. Buying a milkshake at a food stand, I should have waited, for at St. Elmo's (where
I went next to buy a slice of pizza), the milkshakes were only R4.90/US65c.
In the ampatheatre outside, a group of 5 young singers in their 20s (a white girl, a
black girl, a black guy, and two coloured guys) were giving a concert, singing light,
entertaining South African songs concerning the country's history (being the V&A, the songs
weren't political or controversial, but rather happy and upbeat). Many songs were in
Afrikaans, but others were in Dutch, English, and even Xhosa. Between numbers (sung to a
pre-recorded tape) the group put on little skits, and the crowd (including many locals) loved
it, laughing at some of the South African historal references I wasn't aware of. The
ampatheatre was packed, and it was a nice way for everyone to relax in the late 6:00pm sun.
I had planned to leave the V&A at 5:30pm (to be back by 6:30pm), but was enjoying
the show so much, I didn't leave until 6:00pm (though I still left before the end). Stopping
only to pick up another phone card at the Telkom shop, I left the V&A entrance (by the
CalTex station) at 6:05pm, walking very briskly back to the B&B. On the way home, I
passed the internet cafe I used to pass everyday last year (between the Mount Nelson and
the Protea Lodge, next to the pharmacy), but didn't want to spend time checking my email
tonight, as I had told Kritz I'd be home at 6:30pm. When I arrived back at the B&B at
6:54pm, Kritz was outside working on his front lawn, and showed me what he planned to do
to the place over the next few weeks. When finished, he needed a few minutes to get ready,
so I sat down to watch some TV until we were ready to go.
Soon I was driving with Kritz out to Century City, a huge new shopping complex
located outside of Cape Town (near the Ratanga Junction amusement park). Century City is
a large American-style mall done even one better — with African and European-style murals
gracing the walls and marbled floors and domes, the new mall has an opulant look, even
though the stores inside are the same ones you'd find anywhere else in the country. The
mall is divided into two large sections, and as you're allowed only one hour of free parking,
we looked around one area for an hour before going out to move the car for another hour of
free parking. Pick 'N Pay and Clerks had both closed by the time we found them (9:30pm),
but downstairs in the food court I bought a schwarma for R14.95/US$1.99, letting Kritz try
a bit of mine as he had never tried one before. If you're an American, the mall is nothing out
of the ordinary, but for Kritz (a 65yr-old retired South African), I can see where it really
might be something different than what he's probably used to (one thing different than
American malls: bomb bags, of the same type I saw at the V&A).
On the drive back from Century City I listened as Kritz told me South African history
from the Afrikaaner point of view, and once back in town, we stopped at the 7-11 on Kloof
Street — but as they were out of the cheese Kritz was looking for, we made a stop at the 7-
11 on Vredehoek St. and Buitenkant St. as well (the one I'd usually stop at while walking),
as Kritz was good friends with one of the guys working there.
Misc. notes: in South Africa none of the stores (from the supermarkets to the 7-11s)
have pre-sliced bread — instead, the bread is sold whole, and each store has a bread slicer
for people to use... and the oft-used South African expression "just now" doesn't mean "now"
as it would in American English, but rather "sometime later."
Dec. 30: Cape Town / RMS St. Helena / Cape Town
Today I was to board the Royal Mail Ship RMS St. Helena and set sail for St. Helena.
Waking up early, I walked down to the KwikSpar before breakfast to look for a comb, but
with none in stock, I decided to walk a bit further over to the 7-11 on Vredehoek and
Buitenkant streets, where I found one for R2.99/US40c (walking back to the B&B, I also
stopped along the way to use the payphone down the street from the KwikSpar to call
home).
With the RMS embarkation set for 11:00am (though I wanted to arrive early) there
was plenty of time for breakfast this morning, and while preparing it, Kritz handed me an
Afrikaans paper and asked if I could understand any of it. Over breakfast, he talked again
about how lazy some blacks were, but when he saw the student violin I was taking with me
to St. Helena, asked if I would play a few tunes for the black handyman he had working on
his lawn that morning. Taking it out, I played a few quick tunes for both of them before it
was time to go.
Leaving for the docks at 10:10am, we arrived with plenty of time to spare at 10:30am.
In the building next to J Berth (by the RMS) plenty of cargo was stacked high (including
sacks of sugar), though at this late hour, it was obviously not bound for St. Helena. There
in the building, I met John and Cecelia from the UK: John was a botanist probably in his
early 60s, and his friend Cecelia was a retired flutist who liked travelling to far-off places,
even at the age of 80. Kritz was curious to see what the ship was like, but once
embarkation started, his request for a look around was denied (though it's quite possible to
have a look on board if you arrange it beforehand and don't ask to do it right before
embarkation). Going through a metal detector, I said goodbye to Kritz, and walked onto the
ship.
On board the RMS, the first thing I did was try to find the cabin I'd be staying in:
C49. The cheapest rooms on the RMS are 4-person cabins, with the next-cheapest being a
two-person cabin... I managed to reserve the only 2-person cabin with a porthole (C49) for
three of the four segments I'd be on board, but would have to move to a cabin without a
porthole for the St. Helena -> Cape Town segment.
A bit of information on the RMS St. Helena: the current vessel to carry the name was
built in Scotland in 1989 specifically to replace the "old" RMS (which had been a mail ship
converted to a passenger liner), with the purpose of supplying the South Atlantic island of
St. Helena with transportation, cargo, and mail (RMS = Royal Mail Ship). The bulk of the
RMS' sailings consist of routes between Cape Town, St. Helena, Ascension Island, and back
to the UK (Cardiff, Wales) — though once a year there's a Cape Town -> Tristan da Cunha
sailing as well. The length of the ship is 105m, though I was told by crew members on more
than one occasion that it was originally meant to be 50m longer, as the shorter size makes it
rock more in rough seas. The ship does have two stabilizers though, and they help smooth
out the ride considerably. The RMS carries a crew of 56, and can hold 128 passengers
(though most segments had about 95 passengers, as some people prefer to book private
cabins for themselves at a higher cost).
The bottom deck of the ship is "C-deck" (where I was staying). This is the level with
both the galley and the budget cabins (for 2 or 4 people), though to get from the C-deck
cabins to the galley, you must first walk up the stairs to B-deck, go to the other side of the
ship, then walk down another flight of stairs. There is one lift on board the ship between A,
B, and the galley side of C deck, but as there's little other exercise available on board, I soon
found all the stair-climbing a plus. The cabins on C-deck are of the bunk-bed variety (one
on top of the other), and while some 4-person cabins have portholes, only one 2-person
cabin does (C49 — the one I managed to reserve for 3 of the 4 segments). As the cabins on
this deck have no en-suite bathroom or shower, there are four communal showers and Mens
and Ladies toilets nearby.
"B-deck" is the level passengers embark and disembark the ship on, and is also the
level with some of the nicest cabins (the Governor of St. Helena and his wife stayed in B-36).
Located near the entrance is the ship's store (selling St. Helena souvenirs and books, film,
snacks, laundry soap, toiletries, and other miscellaneous items), the purser's bureau, hotel
services, and the booth with the satellite phone, a South African cardphone (for use when
the ship is docked in Cape Town), and an email terminal. There's also a bathtub and private
bathroom for anyone to use at the end of the hallway across from cabin B39, but hardly
anyone even knew it was there. On both B and A decks, there's a pantry where you can go
anytime of the day or night to make yourself a cup of tea or coffee.
"A-deck" has a lot of cabins, a pantry, the ship's laundry (two washers and two dryers
as well as a drip-dry room — free for anyone to use), public bathrooms, the doctor's office,
the exercise room (suspiciously right across from the doctor's office — when I mentioned
that fact later to the doctor, he chuckled), and the main lounge (facing front, though as it's
in the middle of the ship, there's no view of the water in front). The exercise room is better
than nothing, but is by no means a gym: a small room with windows, it has only one
exercise bike, two "pull-up-bike" machines, one sitting bench, a floor mat, and a scale. The
main lounge on A deck has a bar and tables to eat at, but only a small portion is declared
"non-smoking", and smoke circulates through the entire room. The small alcove which
constitutes the non-smoking section has a curtain which can be pulled shut when showing
videos (there's a TV and VCR), and you can borrow videos from the purser's bureau and
watch them here late at night, as many people wound up doing. The ship's reading library
is also located in this lounge, stocked with a moderate selection of boring books. The eating
tables in the lounges have round, sticky peel-off covers placed atop them so your plates and
cups won't slide when the ship is sailing in rough water, and free tea and coffee is usually
served here in the afternoons and evenings (as is "afternoon tea" — cookies, cake, and
tea/coffee, usually from about 3:50pm). There are two slot machines in the bar area of the
A-deck lounge as well, though one was currently broken.
Above A-deck is the "promenade deck", with one expensive cabin (though it's not a
good place to stay, as it's right by double doors which like to slam shut in the wind), the
children's playroom (complete with chalkboard and a 13" TV and VCR — if there are no kids
using the room, you can watch videos in here as well), and the sun lounge (unlike the main
lounge downstairs which has no doors leading outside, the sun lounge exits out to the sun
deck and swimming pool). The sun lounge is also the alternate place to eat breakfast and
lunch should you opt for a lighter meal than that being served down below in the galley (a
light breakfast and light buffet-style lunch are served here, as opposed to the full-course
meals down below). There's also a bar here, as well as another slot machine by the door out
to the sun deck. The sun deck has tables with umbrellas, chairs, and chaise lounges to
relax on, both in the main rear section as well as a few on the sides of the ship. The small
swimming pool (square-shaped) is located here, and though it can be refreshing in warm
weather, don't expect to swim laps, as it's quite small (it actually uses filtered sea water,
though you wouldn't know it from swimming in it). There are some crew accomodations on
all levels except for A-deck, as well as cabins set aside for clergy ("purple patch") and
students when they travel on board.
Above and looking down onto the sun deck is a small balcony with chairs and a
table, though the "covering" lets the sun through and it's quite easy to get burnt, as the
tables there have no umbrellas like the ones out on the sun deck. Further up is the funnel
deck, where the base of the ship's yellow funnel is located. The back of this deck is used for
games such as deck quoits, with the front being where the ship's bridge is (shuffleboard and
cricket are played down below on the sun deck).
The RMS keeps an "open bridge" policy, meaning that anyone is free to enter and
walk around on the bridge at just about any time (unless there's an emergency or special
meeting going on). Though this policy is probably a bit of a burden on the officers, it does
make the sailing quite a bit more interesting for the passengers, and I think perhaps some of
the officers actually do welcome it at times (as the norm is to have only one officer on duty at
a time on the bridge, and it can get quite lonely on some shifts... I wound up spending a lot
of time talking to some of the officers up on the bridge throughout the two sailings).
The RMS St. Helena is described as a "luxury cargo liner" — a working cruise ship,
and while I had never been on a cruise ship before, I can tell you that it's definitely not the
QE2. On some levels, I'd describe the RMS as a "Motel 6" cruise ship — but that's not quite
accurate, as the RMS is different than any other ship in the world. The vessel's primary
mission is to provide transportation for people and cargo to-and-from St. Helena, but within
that charter, the staff tries to make the long days at sea enjoyable, and the food served on
board is quite good. Even with my accomodations being the "basic" shared type (rather than
the expensive private cabins), I still felt quite out of place on the ship though, as I'm
someone who doesn't care for luxury at all, preferring to just get from Point A to Point B in
the fastest, cheapest, and most practical manner possible (I would have easily opted for a
dorm on a container liner if one were available). Still, the staff of the RMS tries hard, and
the food was teriffic — to give you an idea of some of the food choices, take a look at the
sample lunch and dinner menus below. Note though that most of the food uses British
names (for instance, "pudding" isn't a mousse as Americans would understand the term, but
rather a cake), and almost everything is rich. You can order as much of anything (or
everything) as you like, but it's useless asking for smaller portions of something, as most of
the time the portions wound up being the same size anyway...
LUNCH (Jan. 4) DINNER (Jan. 29)
Jellied Consomme HORS D'OEUVRE:
Minestrone with Parmesan Tristan Crayfish Tails
—— Wedges of Brie Cheese
Fillet of Haddock SOUPS:
Grilled Lamb Cutlets Rich Port and Game Broth
Cheese and Tomato Omelette Cream of Parsnip
A Wide Selectin of Cold Meats MAIN COURSE:
and Seasonal Salads Flour and Butter Grilled Slip Sole
—— Prime Fillet Steak O'Brien and
Ciboulette Potatoes Stir Fry Vegetables
Baby Carrots A Wide Selection of Cold Meats
Roasted Pumpkin and Seasonal Salads
—— VEGETABLES:
Bakewell Tart Pont Neuf and New Boiled Potatoes
Chocolate Caramel Slice Buttered Leeks
Various Dairy Ice Creams and Sorbets Glazed Carrots
—— DESSERTS:
Cheeseboard Light Peach and Vanilla Tart
Lemon Gateau with Dairy Cream
Sticky Toffee Pudding & Ice Cream
Coupe Rendezvous
Various Dairy Ice Creams and Sorbets
SAVOURY:
Garlic Sauteed Clams on toast
CHEESEBOARD
Most costs on board are covered with the fare, though drinks (including sodas and
squashes) are extra, as are certain other activities such as bingo (tipping is also extra,
suggested at £0.50/US75c a day for your cabin attendant, dinner server, and bar man).
Email is available, though file attachments aren't allowed (if you absolutely must send
attachments, see the purser... you can do it from the machine upstairs, though it'll cost a lot
more). As it is, it's quite expensive to send an email or place a call, as both go through
INMARSAT (the International Maritime Satellite) — and as email is only sent out in packets
four times a day, there's no web-surfing or access to your own personal email account at
home (all incoming and outgoing email must go through the ship's own account). You're
also instructed not to use the CC: or the BCC: carbon-copy options, though they're available
if you really want to. In the end, I never bothered with email myself, as without access to
my account at home it seemed useless — though a lot of other people made use of the
service.
All announcements made on the ship are preceeded by two musical notes (a "B"
followed by a "B" an octave lower), and lunch and dinner are announced with a silly pre-
recorded tune (a little ditty which sounds similar to what you might hear on a Japanese
train as it approaches the station).
Most of the staff and a good portion of the crew on board are "Saints" (native St.
Helenans), as working on the RMS is one of the few job opportunities available on an island
with high unemployment. Except for Carol (who is the ship's only Tristanian), all the
waiters and waitresses are Saints, as are the cabin attendants, maids, and most of the
service staff. While the two captains, the 1st mate, the head pursers and head chef are
Brits, the 2nd mate (Andrew), a 3rd mate (Jolene), two assistant pursers (Nigel and Carl),
the head waiter (Tubby), and the galley supervisor (Michael) are Saints.
Throughout the course of the two sailings, I gained a lot of respect for the staff of the
RMS: they must put up with people of all different temperments, memorize their names and
needs, and a few weeks later, start the routine all over again with another set of passengers.
While the officers have private quarters, the crew must share quarters (two per room), and
there's never a day off while out at sea. To the officers as well, my compliments... they also
have no days off while at sea, and it can't be an easy life for them either. Saints are
extremely nice people, and the many hours I would spend talking with the staff and crew of
the RMS was one of the nicest things about the voyage.
There were two policies on the RMS which I didn't particularly like: the seating
proceedure for dinner and the lack of any decent non-smoking areas. As far as dinner
seating is concerned, while you're free to sit anywhere for breakfast or lunch (which is
served both downstairs in the galley as well as upstairs in the sun lounge), you're given a
specific seat, table, and time (either 6:45pm or 8:00pm) for dinner. There seems to be some
confusion as to what determines your dinner time though, with one brochure asking you to
indicate which sitting you'd prefer, and another mentioning that all passengers staying in
budget-grade cabins would automatically be given the earlier sitting. The Captain, most of
the crew, and all dignitaries are assigned to the later sitting, and while changing from the
later sitting to the earlier one usually isn't a problem, they generally don't allow those
assigned to the earlier sitting (ie, budget passengers) to switch and join the later one. I
suppose this class separation is an example of the Britishness of the ship, but to me (as an
American), it seemed absolutely ludicrous here in the 21st century — though for some
strange reason I was actually given the 8:00pm sitting!
Because of my assignment to the later sitting, I had dinner with the upper class of
the ship for the first two nights, and hated every minute of it. First, the type of people on
this sitting weren't exactly the best to share a meal with: while nice, most were what I would
consider to be the stereotypical upper-crust weathly Brit — not the kind of down-to-earth
person I prefer having a conversation with (as well, there was a loud, drunk Dutch writer
assigned to my table — she was always either smoking or drinking somewhere on the ship,
and had a voice that could give anyone a headache). All of the Saints (as well as most of the
"normal" folk) were on the first sitting, and while I'm able to walk between the two worlds
just fine, I vastly prefer to hang with people a bit less conscious and concerned with who
they are. As well, 8:00pm was simply too late for me to eat a heavy dinner: with all the
appetizers being served, the main course wouldn't arrive until 8:30pm or so — not the time I
like to eat a heavy dinner.
After the first few nights, I asked to be switched to the less-stuffy 6:45pm timeslot,
but even here, my seat and table were pre-assigned — another ridiculous policy that
deserves to be challenged, and challenged it was. Over those first few days, a group of about
8 fellow passengers and myself began to click and hang out together... and we soon decided
that we should be able to sit together for dinner as well. Noticing one large table that was
never used (Table 16), we all decided one night to just to sit down at that table and eat
together as a group (while it was a South African who first suggested doing it, everyone went
along — including the Brits in the group). When the staff came over to see what was going
on, we all politely pointed out that we were a large group that would like to sit together, and
this particular table wasn't being used. The response was "Yes, but this table is never used
for the first sitting!" Still, we politely refused to move, and the following day, one of the
members of our group worked it out with Michael (the galley supervisor) that we could sit at
that table from then on. Later, we found out the reason Table 16 is never used for the first
sitting: it's the table where the Captain and Governor (when he's on board) dine on the
second sitting — but the other tables have to be cleaned, so one more shouldn't make a
difference! Through special arrangemet we were able to sit together and enjoy our dinner,
but the policy is sorely out-dated and needs to be changed. I understand the need for
having two sittings at dinner (the galley can't hold everyone at once, and for breakfast and
lunch many people choose the sun deck instead), but I don't think it would bring doom to
the line if people were allowed to choose where and when they can eat their dinner. Making
matters worse, the assigned seating chart only put a few people at each table — most with
only 2-4 people (at my original table, there was only myself and the loud, drunk Dutch
writer... that's it). It almost seemed as if they were trying to separate people instead of
letting everyone enjoy each other's company and conversation. Though an opportunity is
given to switch your table for the return sailing, half the trip is over by this time, and the
seating policy should just be completely abolished.
The second item that bothered me (and others, as I later found out) was the lack of
any real non-smoking area on the RMS. I am quite aware that being from California (with
some of the world's strictist policies against smoking indoors), my being used to rooms
without cigarette smoke isn't something the rest of the world is used to — but it was still
annoying that the only place on the entire ship where you could go to escape cigarette
smoke was the galley downstairs. That's it. Every other place is fair game for smokers, from
the cabins to the decks to the indoor lounges (as mentioned earlier, there is one section of
the main lounge set aside for non-smoking, but as it's all just one large room, the smoke
drifts right into the non-smoking section). At the end of the trip when we were filling out
survey cards about the RMS, I was surprised to hear how much the smoke bothered some of
the others in the group as well, with some of them writing it down as their main complaint
(one of the South African journalists on the Tristan voyage who had taken the RMS to St.
Helena a few years ago mentioned he had commented on the lack of non-smoking areas at
the time, but that nothing had changed).
While my luggage was in a crate being lifted onto the ship by a crane, I went to find
the cabin I'd be staying in: C49. The small cabin has one set of bunk beds (49B is the lower
bunk, 49D the upper), two small half-height closets about the size of my backpack (with one
on top of the other), a set of four thin drawers (two of them lockable), a sink with cup-
holders, a mirror, and small individual flourscent lights and ultra-mini fold-out tables next
to each bunk. There's no "desk", but the person in the lower bunk can put his things on top
of the set of 4 drawers, while the person sleeping in the upper bunk can place some items
(such as a book or a glass of water) on the windowsil underneath the porthole. A chain
suspends the metal covering of the porthole when open, but there never seemed to be a
reason to close it — and though normally it's above the water line, in rough seas, water
would often splash against the window.
First to enter the cabin, I set my things down on the upper bunk (figuring it'd be
more fun — it was), but the one thing that surprised me was seeing no protective railing on
the side of the bed to keep you from falling out if the ship hit some rough seas (instead there
was only a small, removable metal ladder to reach the top bunk). A few minutes later my
bunkmate arrived: a talkative Brit in his late 40s or early 50s, Howard had a booming voice
and a daughter married to an American in Minnesota. Though a bit loud, he was nice and
easy to get along with, and as I'd invariably be up late talking or writing, he'd always be
asleep by the time I'd return to the room.
With the RMS still in port, I went out on deck and met Pat (one of three Pats on
board), a 40ish South African in the shoe business who was born on St. Helena but hadn't
been back for over 30 years (he and his wife were waving to their kids down below on the
docks). Next, I met another Pat: a 60ish South African (originally from Britain) in the
publishing business, she was taking the trip mostly to cruise, and would spend only one day
on St. Helena itself, opting to instead stay on board the ship while it ferried between St.
Helena and Ascension. Most of the passengers for this voyage were either British tourists,
Saints returning home, or South African tourists — and other than a doctor originally from
Germany but now living in Conneticut, I was the only American on board. Walking into the
lounge, I met a middle-aged couple from Germany... the wife was quite nice, but the
husband was ranting on about how they wouldn't let him send file attachments in his email
(on board the ship for only a few minutes and already it's the end of the world if he can't
send emails with file attachments).
While still tied to the dock, many people were at the side of the ship waving to their
friends and family below (just like a scene out of a movie). As the ship was getting ready to
leave, an announcement was made that a stowaway search would take place, and one soon
did. This isn't just an exercise: about a year ago, a 16yr-old recently-orphaned Hutu named
Alain Hakizmana escaped Tutsi soldiers in his native Burundi by making his way through
Zambia into South Africa. Once in the country, he travelled down to Cape Town by truck,
and managed to stow away aboard the RMS St. Helena (having no idea what it was or where
it went). Hiding in the top compartment of the funnel, he managed to evade the routine
stowaway search, and lived on a diet of apples which he'd stolen from the dockside. Once
discovered, a pass-around kitty from the passengers raised £257/US$385 to help him buy
clothes, and upon finally reaching St. Helena, he asked for political asylum (though he has
since left the island).
Suddenly, some music began to play over the loudspeaker... first, it was a St. Helena
song... then another piece... then to the music of "Pomp and Circumstance" the ship took
off, with everyone waving as we left the Cape Town docks. Once underway, the crew asked
all passengers on board for the first time to grab their life preservers (located under the bed
in the cabins) and assemble in the sun lounge for a lesson on how to use them, as well as a
lecture on general safety and a reading of the ship's rules.
Out on deck I ran into two gals wearing "St. Helena" sweatshirts, and when asking
one where she bought hers, was smartly told "St. Helena, of course... well, you walked into
that one!" The two girls were British teachers returning from holiday to their 2-year contract
jobs as school teachers on the island, and with them also was Mike, another ex-pat
instructor who teaches science at Prince Andrew School. Though Mike said the pay on St.
Helena isn't as good as that available in Britain, the tax-free income afforded to ex-pat
teachers (along with other benefits such as free housing) is actually far higher than a
similiarly-qualified Saint would receive, and the income disparity between ex-pats and locals
was definitely a sore point with the Saints. Mike also hosts the weekly Classical Hour on
Radio St. Helena (pre-taped for broadcast on Sunday, with a repeat on Wednesday), and
when he found out I was a violinist, asked me a few days later if I wouldn't mind dropping
by to do a show with him (I gladly accepted, as seeing the island's one radio station was
something I had very much hoped to do).
Out in the back I met Peter, a South African journalist who writes movie reviews for
one of the local Cape Town papers as well as travel articles for the South African AMEX
travel magazine (among others). It wasn't long before we were into a great conversation
about travel, life, and some of the places we've visited, though as I returned with a bit of
lunch from the upstairs sun lounge, Peter began to feel quite sea-sick, even though the
water was smooth and calm.
All of a sudden, steam with black soot shot out of the funnel, and a few moments
later we heard an announcement that there was engine trouble: the bearing in the turbo
blower was busted, and we'd be returning to the water off Robben Island to try to make
repairs. "Uh-oh," I thought, "not again!" The ship breaking down last year was the reason I
had to wait a year to get to these islands, and it looked as if there'd be trouble ahead. I was
later told by some of the crew that no one was happy with the engines used on the ship —
but because its funding came from the British Government, certain requirements had to be
met (such as having a certain percentage of the ship manufactured in the UK)... while the
crew all wanted Japanese engines, they were instead given ones that have since proved to be
nothing but trouble.
After turning around for the water off Robben Island, a new announcement was made
that we'd slowly be heading back to J Berth at the Cape Town docks and would go back to
port. Sitting down inside to talk with some Brits and South Africans at afternoon tea (we
would later become the "Table 16" group), I joked that I was the one jinxing the ship, as I
was scheduled to take last year's doomed voyage. Though it then became a running gag
throughout the trip, I wasn't the only one who had been re-scheduled from the previous
year: there were many others (including John and Cecelia) booked on the St. Helena and
Tristan sailings last year who had to reschedule for this year when the RMS broke down in
November of 1999.
Over some biscuits (cookies), another announcement was made that a tour of Cape
Point (one of the southern-most points in Africa) had been arranged for tomorrow for anyone
interested, but I wasn't happy: while today had been a beautiful day, tomorrow's forecast
called for rain — and with tomorrow being both a Sunday and New Years Eve, there would
be very little in town open and very little else to do.
Arriving back at Duncan Docks, it was announced there'd be an hourly shuttle
service between J dock and the V&A for those passengers wishing to go to the V&A —
though after all the times I walked between the V&A and the docks trying to find the RMS I
certainly didn't need a shuttle, and didn't wait for one. After collecting my passport from the
purser's bureau (we had turned them in earlier and were supposed to get them back
tomorrow — at least we didn't have to go through immigration again), I left the ship at
5:30pm to walk to the V&A. Even though it was late in the afternoon, the walk to the V&A
was facing the sun — and as I had left my cap on the ship, I wound up getting quite a
sunburn on my forehead.
Passing the Telkom shop, I thought about using their internet service... but at a rate
of R12.50/US$1.67 for 15mins, decided it was too expensive. One thing I did need to do
though was get some British pounds: the only currency accepted on board the RMS is the
pound (either British or the equivalent St. Helenan), and though rands and dollars can be
changed on the ship, the rate (especially for US$) was extremely bad (with the current
exchange rate at £1=US$1.47, the ship was offering a rate of £1=US$1.70). At the first
ForEx shop I asked at, I couldn't buy pounds with US$ travellers checks unless I first
converted the US$ to rand, then converted the rand to pounds for a poor final rate. However
the lady at another ForEx shop suggested I use a credit card — as if it's done that way, the
ForEx shop only converts from rands to pounds (with your credit card at home doing the
dollar-to-rand conversion, usually at the official rate of exchange + 1%). I wound up taking
out £340 (about US$510), and sure enough, received a decent rate of £1=US$1.50 (which
became £1=US$1.55/US$531 after going through my credit card — but was still much
better than the 1.70 rate used on the ship). I later found out about a better option though
(and used it myself a few times): take a cash advance on your credit card right on the ship.
If you do this, they charge only a 1% commission, and other than that, you only have to deal
with the exchange rate your credit card uses (usually the official rate + 1%).
When finished changing money, I walked around the V&A some more (not having
anything else to do)... looking inside the CNA bookstore, I almost bought a "Learn Xhosa"
book, but in the end passed on the idea. Going into the Pic 'N Pay, I bought some hot
macaroni and cheese, but soon made my way to St. Elmos for a decent slice of pizza
(R7.95/US$1.06) and a milkshake (R4.90/US65c)... walking past the Ster-Kinekor cinema
at the V&A, I noticed the prices were R26.50 for the 8pm show, and R24 for the 10pm show
(last year the cinema chain dropped their prices from R25 to R18 nationwide — had they
since raised their prices again, or was it just the V&A cimema charging the higher prices?)
In the end, I opted against seeing a movie (missing "Billy Elliot" being shown on board the
ship as well).
As most of the V&A stores closed at 9:00pm, I decided to head back for the ship at
9:20pm (I didn't even call Kritz to let him know I was back in Cape Town because I had no
idea how long the ship would be in port, and at this point with everyone on board just
starting to know each other, I didn't want to be a stranger on the ship).
Walking through the dock area at night, I arrived back at the RMS too late for dinner,
but ran into some of the group down in the galley. Grabbing some grapes, we talked for a
bit until it was time for the staff to clean up. At that point, I went outside onto the sun deck
to write in my journal, not going to sleep until 12:40am.
Dec. 31: Cape Town / RMS St. Helena [St. Helena Info]
I didn't sleep well last night — though there was nothing wrong with the cabin, it was
disconcerting to sleep aboard a ship while motionless and docked next to land. Shortly
before 7:00am our cabin attendant Colin came in to wake us up and bring tea or coffee
(yesterday when he asked what I preferred, I first said tea, but from this morning on, asked
if he could instead bring orange juice). Delivered each morning with the beverage is the
"Ocean Mail", the daily color injet-printed newspaper of the ship which would list the day's
planned activities along with any other important information (a copy was also always
posted up by the purser's bureau).
A normal galley breakfast on the RMS consists of a buffet table of fruit, muffins,
yoghurt, juices and cold cereal, as well as your choice of a hot meal (oatmeal, toast, eggs,
fish, etc). Uptairs in the sun lounge, the light self-serve breakfast would typically include
cake or muffins, as well as yoghurt, toast, and jam. Though the normal galley breakfast
usually starts at 8:00am, everything was pushed up a bit this morning due to the Cape
Point tour departing at 8:30am.
The bus tour around Cape Point today was scheduled to last from 8:30am to 4:00pm,
and would be covering old ground for me: though I hadn't previously made it as far as Cape
Point, the drive out there through areas such as Clifton and Simons Town would be a repeat
of not only what I had done last year, but what I had just done with Judith two days ago as
well.
On the bus I sat down next to an older South African (originally from Scotland)
named James, who wound up being the comedian in our group and a genuinely nice person.
From the window we could see some locals selling firewood by the side of the road — our
tour guide commented that Australian acacia trees had been introduced to the area but had
taken over much of the other vegetation, so people are allowed to chop it down and sell it as
firewood. The last stretch of the drive out to Cape Point went through a game reserve,
though we could only spot a few animals far off in the distance. The weather today was
grey, and with it looking as if it would rain soon, wasn't the best day to be out on a bus tour.
Finally reaching Cape Point, we left the bus to look around the area. There's a
funicular up the hill to a lookout point on top, but though we were given round-trip tickets, I
opted to walk up instead (though I took it down later). Cape Point is often mistakenly
referred to as the southern-most point of Africa... it's actually the second southern-most
point, as there's another area not too far away which is technically further south. It's still
an interesting area to explore though, with the funicular, the lookout, old and new
lighthouses, plenty of birds, and (if the weather is good), some nice views.
At the top of the hill is not only a souvenir shop, but a kiosk where you can send
someone an email with a file attachment of yourself at Cape Point for R30/US$4. Passing
on the gift shop, I continued towards the old lighthouse: this was the original lighthouse of
the area, but its location high on the hill wasn't a good idea, for in heavy fog ships couldn't
see it. After a ship crashed onto the rocks, a newer automated lighthouse was built down
below closer to sea level, and it is this lower lighthouse which is still in use today.
When finished looking around the lighthouse, I continued walking down a trail
towards the sea which is definitely worth taking: at the end of it (where you're not allowed to
continue unless you have permission) are some great views of the cliff and birds nesting in
the holes in the rocks. Though it was now misting intermittently, at least it was only a light
drizzle.
Returning back to the gift shop I had a look around, but as with such shops
anywhere in the world, everything was overpriced, especially for South Africa (a polo-style
shirt was R240/US$32, and a cap was R75/US$10). With prices this high, I wondered if the
people working here even earned enough money to buy the items they sold (as these weren't
fancy souvenirs but just items such as shirts and caps). Asking one of the employees (a
white guy in his early 20s) if he wouldn't mind telling me how much he made per hour, he
told me it was R12.50/US$1.67 — which meant he'd have to work for almost 20 hours in
order to earn enough to buy one of the shirts here.
After having a look around the gift shop, I took the funicular down to the Two Oceans
Restaurant below where we were meeting for lunch: the meal (a nice fish stew) was paid for,
but not the drinks (I ordered a Schweppes Bitter Lemon — one of my favorite soft drinks,
which isn't sold in the US). When lunch was finished, we took shelter inside another
overpriced gift shop as heavy rain suddenly began to fall. Boarding the bus a few minutes
later, the rain continued as we left Cape Point, but at least it waited until we were ready to
leave.
Back on the bus, I noticed the indelible paint on James' thumb (the sign that he had
voted in South Africa's recent elections) — and even though it had been over a month now,
the mark was still visible. While driving back into town the rain turned to drizzle again, and
by 4:00pm, we were back at the ship.
This morning we had been told that as repairs were only expected to take a few
hours, we should all be on board the ship by 5:00pm for a 6:00pm departure. However
upon returning back, we found that this wasn't to be: the ship was still broken, and we were
now being assured of an 8:00am departure tomorrow morning. Many of us doubted this
information for a few reasons: first, some of the passengers had heard from the crew that
the Captain prefers to leave during the day rather than at night (so as to give passengers a
chance to get used to the water during daylight hours) — and those of us who were hoping
to be at sea for New Years Eve were pretty mad if indeed the engines were already fixed and
the only reason we weren't leaving tonight was so people could adjust to the sea better. The
other reason the information sounded fishy was the thought that technicians in South
Africa wouldn't be out working on a Sunday night that also happened to be New Years Eve
as well. With no say in the matter though, we all resigned ourselves to the fact that our true
Millennium New Years 2001 would be anything but stellar: the planned New Years dance (at
10:30pm) was still scheduled, but most people wound up going to the V&A in the evening
instead.
The shuttle between J berth and the V&A was running every hour (on the half-hour
returning), and because of the recent rain, I decided to take the 5:00pm shuttle over to the
V&A instead of walking it — though the clouds were now dissipating and it would turn out
to be a nice, clear late afternoon. Arriving at 5:20pm (with the traffic it would have been just
as fast to walk), I went first to the expensive Telkom office to use their internet connection
(R12.50/US$1.67 for 15mins — telnet is allowed). When finished, I asked at the window to
buy a telephone card as well, and the employee only charged me for the card and not for the
internet time. In such situations I would normally volunteer that they needed to charge me,
but having paid Telkom's high rates for calls this year and last — and with their incredibly
high (for South Africa) internet cafe rates, I decided that if they weren't going to charge me
this time, that would be fine with me. A bit later I discovered that the cinema at the V&A
has their own internet cafe at a rate of R7.50/US$1 for 15mins, though by that time they
were about to close, and I had already checked my email anyway.
Because it was both a Sunday and New Years, most of the stores (which generally
stay open until 9:00pm) were closing early (at 6:00pm - 6:30pm). This wasn't good news, as
walking around the V&A was about the only thing left to do tonight (though a few stores did
stay open until normal closing time, including Woolworths and Edgars). Curious if the
salary of the souvenir shop employee this morning was typical, I asked a young white
saleslady working at the Ngwenya Glass shop if she could tell me how much she makes per
hour, and her reply was "around R20" (R20=US$2.66).
Going back to St. Elmos for some pizza (the peri-peri chicken slices are excellent), I
watched some of the bands playing in the small outside ampatheatre, but with it now being
a pleasant evening, I decided to walk around and explore some of the different parts of the
V&A. There were a lot of private New Years parties going on: at one of the fancy hotels a
guard was keeping everyone but invited guests out, and parties were being held on board
some of the smaller ships as well (including the Meteor, a large German research vessel
which visits Antarctica). This evening's walk actually turned out to be the most enjoyable
part of the day, for the weather had cleared, and in the sky was a beautiful sunset of orange,
purple and grey.
Walking back to the ship under the beautiful sky, I was back in the galley downstairs
at 8:10pm for the 8:00pm dinner sitting. As there was only two of us assigned to Table 4
(the loud drunk Dutch writer and myself), I convinced her we should join some people at
another table... getting up, we sat down at the table where the wealthy German couple and a
stereotypical "proper" British couple were sitting. While nice people, the conversation was
bland and boring, and between the type of people and the late meal time, I knew I'd have to
change to the 6:45pm sitting. As would be the case with most nights, the dinner was
excellent, but way too rich (I was probably the only one on board who would have preferred
lighter meals).
Most nights on the RMS had some sort of planned entertainment (generally starting
at 9:15pm-9:30pm so those on the 8:00pm sitting could have enough time to finish their
meal), and consisted of various events ranging from quiz nights to bingo to "frog racing."
While none of it was what you'd call exciting, it did usually serve its purpose of helping to
pass the time in the evenings and make the trip a bit less mundane. For many of the
activities we were asked to form teams in groups of 6-8 people, with the winning team
usually receiving two bottles of champagne. Tonight would be the first quiz show of the
voyage (hosted by 2nd purser Nigel): a "sound" quiz consisting of 23 sound clips played on
the stereo of everything from music to speeches (with our task to identify the clips and
answer obscure questions about them). As our team tied with another to win, both teams
received a bottle of champagne.
Though the ship's New Years Eve party was going on in the main lounge (complete
with a few neon lights and lights around the dance floor), I was also invited down to the
officer's area on B-deck for the crew's New Years Eve party (probably because I wasn't part
of the retired set — the music upstairs was gentle oldies, but downstairs with the younger
crew, it was pure rock). Going down at 11:30pm for a look, I soon found myself in a small
room with an even smaller dance area, with loud music blasting and people dancing. I
joined in for a while, dancing with some of the Saints on the crew before talking to some of
the other passengers down below (including an Australian who works at Cable & Wireless on
the island).
At 12:00am midnight I went upstairs just in time to hear the bell being rung 16 times
(8 for the old year, 8 for the new), though I just missed the fireworks that were shot off at
the V&A (apparently they only lasted three minutes, though some people were shooting up
unofficial flares afterwards). In the main lounge where the official New Years Eve dance was
taking place, a man dressed up as Old 2000 walked away as a girl dressed as New 2001
came in, and after a short look around, I soon returned to the party down below.
After a while I left the crew dance to walk upstairs, where I found some nice
conversation with Mike (the ex-pat teacher) and Carl (the Saint 3rd purser, who also had his
daughter with him). While the discussion touched on everything from the recent US election
to music, it also included a lot of St. Helena politics, and was the first of many times I'd hear
of the problems and issues facing the island today...
The island of St. Helena is considered a British Overseas Territory, and up until the
early 1980s Saints had full British citizenship, being able to enter and leave the UK freely.
However, fears of heavy Chinese immigration to Britain after the Hong Kong handover
prompted the British Government to pass legislation in the 1980s revoking the citizenship
rights of its overseas territories — and from 1983 onwards, Saints were lumped in with
Hong Kong Chinese to be classified only as British Dependent Territory citizens, with
severely limited rights. As things stand today, Saints still have only limited British
citizenship, and can generally stay in the UK for only 6 months at a time — less than a
German or French citizen can. Irking them is that they were once full British citizens, but
had their citizenship taken away on account of Hong Kong — and while the British
Government saw fit to reinstate citizenship for residents of the Falkland Islands (because of
the war there), they have yet to do so for the Saints (who are ironically among the most pro-
British patriots I've ever met). The British Government doesn't seem to be opposed to
reinstatement of full citizenship for Saints, but always seems to table the idea each time an
opportunity arises. Due to the lack of movement on the part of the UK Government, a group
of Saints took the issue to the United Nations Special Committee on Decolonization in July
2000, but it remains to be seen if anything will come of it. For those interested, the brief
submitted by the Citizenship Commission of St. Helena to the U.N. is avaiable in pamphlet
form for £2/US$3 — the ISBN number is: 0 9527499 4 7. While on board the RMS I
purchased a copy of this pamphlet, and it explains not only the Saints' desire for full
citizenship again, but realistic goals for decolonization:
Three legitimate options exist for decolonization:
* Independence (not economically feasible for St. Helena)
* Integration (not socially or demographically appropriate for St. Helena)
* Association (the free choice of the people of St. Helena)
St. Helenians desire a relationship with the UK modelled on that of the Channel
Islands and the Isle of Man. The main components of the desired associatin with the UK are:
* Internal self-government
* Full British citizenship
* Equal access to UK economic rights and benefits
* Equal bearing on taxation and other obligations of British citizenship
* Representation in the British Parliament
Another subject talked about that evening was the recently-finished Governors Cup
yacht race (Cape Town to St. Helena): the British Government appoints a new Governor to
oversea St. Helena and its dependant islands (Tristan da Cunha and Ascension) every few
years, and it has been tradition for the Governor to host a reception for the race's
participants at Plantation House, the historic mansion where the Governor lives. With a
new Governor and wife though, this time instead of being invited inside the house, the
yachtsmen who had sailed for days to reach St. Helena were served snacks under a canvus
tent out on the lawn, being refused entry into the manor even to go to the bathroom
(instead, a porty-potty was placed outside). The canvus tent in fact was borrowed from the
customs area for the event and returned to the docks when finished. This made not only
the yachtsmen furious, but the Saints as well (on board the RMS were some copies of last
week's St. Helena News with this as the top story — not only because the Saints feel that
Plantation House belongs to the island not to whomever is currently occupying it, but
because it made the island appear less-than-friendly to the visiting yachtsmen and the
outside world). To be fair, I wound up spending a lot of time with the Governor and his wife
over the next few weeks, and he's not a bad fellow (as most Saints believe, I suspect it wasn't
the Governor but his wife who made the decision not to allow anyone inside... I was later
told that when the Governor's wife is off the island, the Governor opens the doors to
Plantation House to see people there — but as soon as his wife returns, the doors become
closed again). In the race, there was one yacht with Saints on board, but even though it
arrived first it didn't win because of the handicaps against it. Returning back from St.
Helena a few weeks later, some of the yachts were placed on the deck of the RMS for
transportation back to Cape Town, as the prevailing winds and currents make sailing in that
direction much harder than in the Cape Town -> St. Helena direction.
Talking late into the night, the three of us didn't break up until 2:00am — and I then
went to the cabin to get my journal, which I wrote in until 2:30am. Finally, I went to sleep
at about 2:45am.
Jan. 1: RMS [Bridge Tour]
Having gone to bed at 2:45am last night, I was asleep for only 4 hours before Colin
came into the cabin at 6:50am to set down the tea and juice. At 7:50am an announcement
was made that a stowaway search would soon commence, and at 8:05am a tug boat came
alongside to help us clear the dock. We were finally leaving once more, and (as always the
case when about to depart) the ship's A-major-chord horn was tooted three times.
This morning I did some laundry while using the exercise room, as they're quite close
to each other (the laundry machines on the ship are decent and the dryers fast). Since
there's no treadmill on the ship, I settled for two 30 minute sessions on the exercise cycle —
but as I normally get my exercise by running rather than cycling, it was a bit different than
what I was used to, and probably shouldn't have used it for so long.
While docked in Cape Town, bottled water had to be used on board the ship (some
was delivered to each cabin), as the RMS' desalinization/filtering system isn't active while in
port. Once out at sea, the water on the ship (taken from the ocean) isn't bad, and the RMS
uses 35 tons of it every day for everything from drinking to food preparation (though the
toilets are vacuum-flush, they use some water as well). The toilet stalls in the bathroom
have doors which stick shut so as to prevent them from swinging back and forth as the ship
travels, and the nearby shower doors require a large metal pin and hook to keep them open
when not in use.
Sitting out on the sun deck I began talking to Kevin and Cel, a middle-aged couple
originally from Zimbabwe but now living in South Africa (with bad timing, Kevin had just
injured his leg, and would be forced to use a crutch for the duration of the trip). At one
time, both were policemen in Zimbabwe, but they now live and work in other fields in South
Africa (Cel works for a textile magazine) and were sailing to St. Helena with the thought of
perhaps settling there. Both were tired of life in South Africa (as Kevin put it: "I was never a
racist until I came to South Africa"), and since the St. Helena Government makes it difficult
for outsiders to immigrate unless you can provide jobs or opportunities for the island, they
were considering various ideas, including that of starting a vinyard.
I then talked a bit to Morris and his wife Pat, a nice retired couple from the UK. This
would be an interesting trip for them, as Morris had worked for the British Government
installing radio equipment at various consulates, and the couple had been stationed on St.
Helena thirty years ago. They were now returning for the first time in three decades to re-
visit the island and see some of their old friends.
Soon the core of a group began to form, and besides myself, included Kevin and Cel,
Pat and Morris, Pat (the South African lady in the magazine business), James (the nice
retired fellow living in Pretoria), and Peter (the South African journalist) — unlike the later
Tristan sailing which had a much stuffier clientele, this St. Helena sailing had plenty of nice
people, and many friends were made.
Taking a short walk to visit the ship's store (located near the purser's bureau), I
bought one white and one blue "RMS St. Helena" polo shirt (£14.95/US$22.43 each) before
returning back out to the sun deck. The pool wasn't available yet, but was being filled and
emptied for cleaning (as with the drinking water on board, the pool uses desalinated/filtered
sea water, and the ship must be at sea for it to be operational).
For lunch downstairs the main course was way too heavy, so I opted to have just two
bowls of cream of asparagus soup and some delicious sorbet for dessert (upstairs on the sun
deck is a lighter buffet lunch, but soup is only available downstairs in the galley).
Earlier in the morning I signed up for a tour of the bridge, and at 2:00pm, showed up
for the tour... though the ship operates with an open bridge policy, this was a chance to find
out everything there is to know about the ship in detail. Andrew (the Saint 2nd mate)
conducted the tour, and imparted a lot of information about the ship: the RMS can carry
1,800 tons of cargo of just about any type, and though this trip's load was relatively light,
we had some animals and explosives on board... though fuel can be carried in an
emergency, St. Helena usually receives its oil supply by special tanker which docks at
Ruperts Bay, just off to the side of Jamestown... the RMS' two main cranes can lift 12.5 tons
of cargo each, or 25 tones in tandem... the maximum number of passengers is not 128 as
the brochure states, but 132 (there was to be 100 on this sailing, though with 2 not showing
up the passenger total was 98 — along with a crew of 52)... the staff on the bridge work in 4-
hour increments twice a day (4 hours work, 8 hours off, 4 hours work, 8 hours off) and
never receive a day off while at sea... and generally there will be only one bridge officer on
duty at a time.
The bridge area was filled with all sorts of equipment and instruments, including a
two computerized radar screens, a gyro compass, a set of radios, a shortwave receiver (to
give both the bridge and cabins their live BBC feed — in-cabin audio was a choice of pre-
recorded music or the BBC), weather FAX, NAVTEX text printer (which reports on dangers
out at sea, such as a container vessel which recently lost 5 tied-together containers off of
Robben Island), the auto-pilot, engine status displays, stabilizer controls, GPS, VHF and
satellite radio-phones, echo sounder, and depth gauge (as just a partial list).
The RMS generally goes at a speed of 15-16 knots (about 27mph), which is pretty
slow if you think about it. There are matching speed displays both outside over the bridge
door and on the bridge itself which give a somewhat-inaccurate reading by detecting the
speed of water running over a sensor... much more accurate is the satellite GPS receiver on
the desk behind the bridge, which shows the ship's true speed.
Most of the time the RMS operates on auto-pilot (a large console at the center of the
bridge which is hooked up to the compass, GPS, and other equipment), and while there's a
manual override, the only time I witnessed anyone steering manually was during a bit of
training in the evenings. In place of a traditional wooden steering wheel, the RMS has a tiny
car wheel taken from a Ford Capri stuck onto the auto-pilot unit... this becomes the steering
wheel when the auto-pilot is disengaged.
The ship has two engines (thank goodness, as they always seem to be breaking), and
as talk turned to them, everyone asked Andrew what really happened: not only had the
starboard engine lost its turbo-charger, but there was a problem with the port engine as well
(for those not familiar with the terms, "port" is the left side of the ship when facing forward,
and "starboard" the right). Not as serious as the broken turbo-charger, Andrew said the
port engine problem could have been fixed out at sea had we not had to return to Cape
Town for the more serious turbo-charger breakdown — but the fact that both engines were
having problems didn't exactly instill confidence in the ship (especially with the RMS' recent
breakdown last year).
To help smooth the ride on a ship that's somewhat small and susceptible to rough
seas, the RMS has two computer-controlled stabilizers (one each for the port and starboard
sides)... only 2.5 meters long, they manage to keep the ship from rocking more than it does,
and can be seen sticking out into the water below.
Because of modern technology, there's no need for a separate "radio man" anymore,
so whomever is on duty (the 3rd mate, 1st mate, etc.) takes on the responsibilites for the
radio as well. Mentioning the training required to become an officer, Andrew said you must
attend a maritime college for four years before being able to obtain the position of 3rd mate
— after which you can move up with training on board the ship (standard practice is that
officers are able to take over a job one position higher than theirs — so the 3rd mate is
trained and capable of handling the duties of a 2nd mate, and can also train to obtain the
status of 1st mate).
As the RMS keeps an open bridge policy, the tour wound up lasting until 3:15pm as
people just stayed on the bridge to ask Andrew more questions. Walking back down to the
sun deck afterwards, I noticed the pool had now been filled, but most people were just lying
out in the sun, not seeming to mind if they got burned or not.
There were many interesting couples on board the ship, including an older Brit with a
Russian lady he met over the internet, as well as a retired Scottish vet named Linda and her
fiance Len (a Brit). Linda's daughter married a Saint and now lives on the island, and Linda
and Len were visiting the island for the first time with arrangements to get married there
themselves (they'd be staying longer than just one week). Talking to them, I again was
reminded of the fact that we had lost almost two days because of the ship's engine problems
— as instead of arriving early morning on the 4th as planned, we wouldn't be arriving on St.
Helena until late afternoon on the 5th.
There are three levels of dress on board the ship, and the daily Ocean Mail would list
the "rig of the day" that officers would follow (with it being suggested you take your dress
cues from them). While shorts are fine during the day, dressing up for dinner is suggested
— though as far as I was concerned, with the RMS being the only option to reach St. Helena,
it was nothing but transportation to me, and I wasn't about to start worrying over what to
wear: I almost always wore a short-sleeve shirt and shorts unless it was cold, and even for
dinner, would often still have shorts on if I hadn't yet gotten around to changing into long
slacks for the evening (and as the only shoes I brought with me were sandals and jogging
shoes, I always wore the sandals on board the ship). Though most passengers would dress
up a bit more, there were still others (including some Brits such as my roommate) who also
dressed as casually. The one formal item I did bring with me though was an old tie, as it
was light, took no space, and could easily be given away (as I wound up doing) when no
longer needed.
At 6:00pm tonight was the first of four Captain's cocktail parties I'd attend. Held in
the main lounge, the Captain and most of the officers would line up near the entrance and
greet you as you walk in (then mingle so you can talk with them for a bit). It's the one time
complimentary drinks are served (though I had only some Schweppes Bitter Lemon), along
with plenty of finger-food (pizza pieces, hot-dog chunks on toothpicks, pork balls, potato
chips, etc.) — and as an American not used to the full, rich meals served on the ship, I
actually felt more at home having the finger-food than dinner down in the galley. The
cocktail party was one of the events where formal dress was suggested, so I dressed up the
most I could with what I had: long pants, a long-sleeve shirt and a tie — though as a few
people noticed, I still had my sandals on (hey, at least I made an effort). Talking with the
ship's electrical engineer, he told me everyone wished certain things on the ship (especially
the engines) had been built by others — but because the British Government supplied the
funding for the RMS, 80% of her had to be British-built. The party was crowded and noisy
but nice, with everyone on board able to mingle, meet each other, and talk with the crew
and Captain as well. Those with 8:00pm dinner sittings could stay later, but soon the
music announcing the 6:45pm sitting went off, and those on the earlier meal slowly made
their way down to the galley.
Tonight at dinner I went to the 6:45pm sitting, but even though there were plenty of
empty seats, had to explain in detail that I need to be at the earlier sitting because 8:00pm
was too late for me (and I was never given an option to choose as many people had been).
So just for tonight, they sat me next to James and two nice, older Swiss ladies (much better
company, and a much better time to eat at as well). After tonight though, our little group
would sit together for dinner at Table 16 (myself, Pat/UK, Pat/SA, James, Kevin, Cel, and
Peter). For me, the highlight of the meal tonight was the spicy St. Helena fish soup — and
though I ordered seconds, I could easily have had fourths (especially as the soup bowls
aren't very deep).
As would be the case with most nights, there was a video short at 8:00pm for the
6:45pm dinner passengers to watch while the 8:00pm passengers ate their meal, but I
actually never wound up watching one of them, and as soon as dinner was over tonight, I
walked out onto the sun deck with some others to watch the sunset. When it was time for
the video to start most everyone else went inside, but I stayed out to see the after-sunset
colors, sitting down and staring up at the clouds, the fading orange sky, and the stars.
Out on deck I had my small, pocket-sized Sangean MS-101 shotwave radio with me,
and though I hardly used it during the trip (except to occasionally listen to static with
earbuds at night to drown out snoring), I tried to see what stations I could receive. I was
more than surprised to pick up not only the Johannesburg talk station on 702AM, but FM
stations as well (as FM has a substantially shorter range than AM). Curious as to where we
might be, I walked up to bridge to find out... there, the young lady on the bridge welcomed
me inside, and when I asked how far we'd travelled, found out that as of 8:45pm tonight
(about 12 hours after leaving Cape Town), we had covered a distance of only 187 miles. At
our current speed of 16 knots, we were basically chugging along at only 27mph, and it
didn't sink in until right then just how slow ship travel really is.
Back down on the sun deck, I was able to pick up the African service of the VOA
clearly, and listened for a bit before turning it off to lie back and enjoy the quiet. After a
while, I went back down to the main lounge for a game of Tombola (a variation of Bingo,
where a book of 5 games costs you £2/US$3)... though I didn't win, it was fun and helped to
pass the time. When the game was over I tried my luck on the lounge's slot machine, losing
£2/US$3 pretty fast (at £0.10/US15c a spin), though I then went upstairs to try one of the
two slot machines in the sun lounge, and soon had BAR/BAR/BAR, deciding to leave while I
was £2/US$3 ahead.
By now most people had turned in... Peter had gone to bed early, still feeling seasick
(even though the ocean was quite calm)... at the bar upstairs, Beth (one of the ex-pat
teachers) was talking island gossip with Paul (the Australian working at Cable & Wireless on
the island), and commented that on St. Helena, everyone knows everything about everyone
else (it certainly is true). Clocks would be retarded by one hour tonight (St. Helena time is
GMT — two hours behind Cape Town), so after setting my watch back an hour, I turned in
for the night.
Jan. 2: RMS [St. Helena Info]
Even with the extra hour of sleep from setting the clock back, I was up early at
5:20am. Doing two 30 minute sessions on the exercise cycle this morning, I wound up
straining my right knee, as I wasn't used to the bending motion from the cycle. This wasn't
the way I wanted to start my trip, but it was frustrating being served large, rich meals and
having no other way to exercise on the ship. Finding it difficult to walk now, I wound up
using the lift when I could — but I had to use stairs both to get to my cabin on C-deck as
well as to the Promenade deck, as the lift only covers decks A, B, and C on the galley side.
After breakfast I took the one book I brought with me ("The Hunt for Red October")
outside to begin reading it, but Peter soon came over, and we began to talk about various
things from his recent trip to Antarctica to the current state of journalism in South Africa. A
bit later I sat by the pool to soak my sore knee, though at 11:30am, I went to the sun lounge
to attend a meeting on St. Helena held by the British head purser and his Saint assistant
Nigel. Various topics about the island were discussed, including shops' opening hours, how
to change money on an island with no banks, and the tours available for visitors. On the
subject of tours, the purser asked all people interested in taking some to write their name
down on a clipboard by 5:00pm (no obligation) so the person running them (Basil George of
Magma Tours) could have an idea of how many people to expect. As far as money goes, the
St. Helena pound is pegged to the British pound, and though St. Helenan money isn't
accepted anywhere else, the British pound is freely used on the island (good news for the
British tourists who didn't have to worry about changing money). The RMS charges a
ridiculous 1% commission to anyone wishing to change between British and St. Helenan
pounds even though both are used on the ship — but if you purchase something on board,
you can request your change be in either currency type (while buying a £10 Cable &
Wireless St. Helena phone card from Nigel this morning I used a £50 British note, but asked
for change in St. Helenan pounds — more to tuck away as souvenirs than anything else, as
British pounds are quite welcome on the island). Cable & Wireless is the monopoly
telephone provider on the island (as well as offering recently-introduced television and
internet services), and their phone cards are similar to those found in South Africa (credit
card thickness with an embedded chip). New, good-condition working payphones can be
found scattered throughout the island, and while local St. Helena calls are cheap, a new
card can quickly become depleted calling overseas. There were only 4 cards available on the
ship (in £2, £5, £10, and £20 values), all from the same set with similar views of the island's
interior... and though Nigel thought that since it was now New Years there might be different
cards for sale on the island, those four cards were the only ones to be found anywhere.
The RMS has two pantries (on A and B decks) where you can help yourself to tea or
coffee anytime of the day or night. In one of them was a can of hot chocolate mix — and as I
don't drink coffee and only occasionally have tea, I'd make myself a cup when the weather
was cold. However it was almost empty, and telling Rachael and Beth (the two ex-pat
teachers) about it probably wasn't the best idea, as they soon finished it! Though I asked
some of the staff if they had another can, they weren't able to find one until the ship set sail
for Tristan da Cunha a few weeks later. Interestingly, while looking around in the RMS'
shop, Carl (the Saint 3rd purser who often works in the shop) mentioned that supplies for
the store are only picked up when the ship calls in Cardiff — never in Cape Town, even
though it can be months between visits back to the UK. When stocks are depleted (such as
with the RMS baseball cap), they're gone until the ship returns back to Britain.
This morning there was a clay shooting competition, but at £5/US$7.50 I didn't
bother taking part in it. Later in the day however, I was convinced to join in our group's
team for skittles. For those who haven't heard of the game before (I hadn't), it's similar to
10-pin bowling but with only 9 pins (making it easy for your ball to sail right through a row
of pins and miss them all). Balls of rope were used on the ship, and with 10 teams taking
part, two lanes were set up on either side of the pool. Pat/SA's suggestion for a team name
was "Larry's Layabouts", and I gladly accepted the honor of having our team named after
me. With three chances to hit the pins for each frame, I didn't do too bad for my first time,
but as we were playing against experienced teams, we lost to "The Saints."
Meeting Mike (the ex-pat teacher and host of the Classical Hour on Radio St. Helena)
in the ship's hallway that morning, he pointed out some areas of interest on the large St.
Helena map up on the wall. As he pointed out the radio station, I asked if it might be
possible to visit it at some point... he responded by saying he had been standing there
wondering if I'd want to come by and tape a show with him (as I was a professional
musician), so it worked out nicely, with me joining him for that week's show a few days
later.
After lunch I decided to go for a swim in the pool, and though a bit cool outside, it
was still enjoyable. The pool is about 6 feet deep, but its small size (about 15 feet long)
means you can swim from one end to the other in just a few seconds. Still, the water helped
my knee feel better, and I didn't have to worry about getting burned, as by the time I went in
half the pool was already in the shade.
The doctor for both this St. Helena sailing and the following Tristan run wasn't the
ship's normal doctor, but the one who comes aboard when the regular doctor needs some
time off... semi-retired, the doc has sailed on many ships throughout his career, but this
time was travelling with his wife (though he would be on call when needed). The cost of
seeing the ship's doctor was £10, and those not able to handle ocean travel were paying £10
for a seasickness injection (which people said worked better than tablets). Peter (who
became seasick right from the start) told me about his experience seeing the doctor: walking
in seasick to get an injection, he asked the simple question of why some people get seasick
and others don't — and was immediately treated to a 30-minute lecture on the subject while
in agony, when all he wanted was the injection! Seeing the doctor pass me by as I was in
the pool, I mentioned to him that I had pulled something in my knee... his reaction was
"well, it sounds like you didn't warm up enough... why didn't you come see me?" — but
there was really nothing he could do except prescribe pain killers, something I really didn't
want to deal with.
When finished with the pool, I moved a chaise lounge into the shade to lie down, but
unable to concentrate on my book, I went to talk with Pat/UK, Morris, and Pat/SA. Instead
of staying on St. Helena for a week as most everyone else would do, Pat/SA was more
interested in the cruise, and would stay on the ship during its shuttle run to Ascension and
back that week... Ascension Island is owned by the British, but contains both British and
US air bases, as well as satellite tracking stations and companies such as Raytheon. A
working island, there's little desire to have tourists visit, and those allowed to stay (with a
reason, such as waiting for a ship or plane) are charged very high rates for basic, bare-bones
accomodation (someone mentioned £60/US$90 a night). With the high rate of
unemployment on St. Helena, many Saints go off to work on Ascension (some for years at at
time), as there are plenty of work opportunities there. Ascension is also an alternate route
for reaching St. Helena: though I didn't know it before starting my trip, the British RAF
(Royal Air Force) allows civilians to book passage on their flights from the UK to Ascension
and back — and from Ascension, you can catch the RMS to St. Helena for only a 2-day
voyage at sea rather than the 5 day voyage from Cape Town. Some passengers on board the
RMS this time were actually going to stay longer on St. Helena, take the RMS back to
Ascension after its Tristan run, and finally fly back to the UK via the RAF (these RAF flights
can be booked through the RMS). Though I would have liked to have seen Ascension, doing
so would have meant sacrificing most of my time on St. Helena — something I wasn't
prepared to do.
Later that afternoon I signed up for the ship's Scrabble tournament, playing against a
nice Saint named Michelle. With almost all of my tiles being useless 1-point vowels, she
beat me — and as just one example of how small a world St. Helena is, while walking
around Half Tree Hollow one morning a few days later, I saw Michelle pass me by in her
car... she tooted and waved hello.
That afternoon James mentioned he had pre-booked a different tour for each day of
his stay on St. Helena (with Basil George's Magma Tours) — though at the morning's
meeting only a few of these tours were mentioned as possibilities (with the rest apparently
just for those who had pre-booked the entire week). As some of these prebook-only tours
looked interesting, I decided to ask on arrival if it might be possible to join some of them at
the last minute. Spending some time then looking through my book of walks on St. Helena,
I wasn't sure if I'd be able to do any of them with my knee being the way it was — but I was
determined to go easy on it for the next few days in order to give it a chance to heal.
At dinner tonight we were able to sit together as a group at the large Table 16 for the
first time. The soup selection was spicy asparagus soup, and as with last night's spicy fish
soup, I quickly ordered seconds. Sadly, after these initial first few days, the soup selections
(always a choice of two for dinner) became much more bland, and I wish they had stayed
with a spicy soup for at least one of the two choices.
Later in the evening some Saints borrowed a video ("Tumbleweeds") from the purser's
bureau and closed off the alcove in the main lounge to watch it. I joined them for a bit, but
after about 20 minutes decided to go to bed. However while walking back, I noticed Peter
talking with Nigel, so I asked if I could join them for a bit. Besides being the ship's assistant
purser (who must deal with the passengers more than the head purser does), Nigel also
practices podiatry as a hobby, and helps older Saints when they have foot problems (though
he doesn't charge them, many will try to give him something in return, such as food — or
even once, a live chicken). As well, Nigel once worked with the BBC on Ascension, but he is
now a fixture on board the RMS, and only occasionally takes time off to stay at his house in
the Longwood area (what he calls the "Beverly Hills of St. Helena"). From Nigel, I heard
many interesting bits of information about his island...
While there is a judicial system for smaller crimes on St. Helena, there's also a
travelling judge from the UK who visits the island from time to time. If the alleged crime is
serious enough, the accused is held in jail — but if not he's free until the judge comes,
though there's rarely any serious crime on the island (in the 1980s there were two murders
— one when a man stabbed his wife, and another when a policeman was shot — but these
are extremely rare, and both perpetrators are in prison in the UK). Prisoners are often
allowed to leave jail and mingle with the community, but as Nigel put it, the real
punishment for the prisoner and his family is the stigma of having been convicted, as St.
Helena is a very close-knit island, and everyone knows everything about each other. Nigel
mentioned that an ex-prisoner once told him "I've served my time, but this (all of St. Helena)
is still my prison." Someone with a criminal record is usually not allowed to go overseas
(meaning no employment on Ascension), though one's record is expunged after seven years
of good behavior. With a large alcoholism problem on the island, most crime tends to be
petty (for instance, beer might be stolen, but the money in the till won't be touched). Castle
Beer is one of the island's biggest imports, and marijuana is sometimes grown on the island
(illegally).
Though many people think that the Governor of St. Helena should be a Saint (not a
Brit appointed from the UK), Nigel agreed with the idea of appointing someone from the
outside, feeling that with the way everyone on the island knows each other, it would be too
hard for a local to be unbiased while making hard decisions... the new chief of police will be
a Saint... because there is no place for specialized training on the island, most Saints must
go overseas (to the UK) to learn their trade, and though they receive no price break on
transportation aboard the RMS, their expenses are usually subsidized by the government or
the company sending them off for training.
One bone of contention with many islanders is the inequality of pay between ex-pats
brought in and similarly-qualified locals doing the same job. For instance, an ex-pat teacher
sent to St. Helena (usually on a 2-year contract) will earn a much higher salary than a local
Saint, even if the Saint has gone overseas for training to become similarly-qualified. This
gives people little incentive to go overseas to train — or if they do, little incentive to return to
St. Helena to work for a fraction of what they could receive elsewhere. Not only is the salary
much higher for ex-pats, but it's also tax-free for them, and includes free housing, water,
and electricity (not cheap on the island). This salary difference isn't inconsequential: the
current Saint Education Officer earns £6,000/yr, but the old ex-pat Education Officer
earned £40,000/yr for the same job. Nigel didn't seem to mind a small difference in pay in
order to entice someone to come to St. Helena, but most people feel the gap is ridiculously
wide. Though the ex-pat teachers say their salary is less than comparable jobs in the UK,
the cost of living on St. Helena is relatively low (especially with free housing provided).
Certain expenses you'd have at home don't exist on the island, and even with shipping
costs, food is no more expensive on St. Helena than in the UK due to much of it coming from
South Africa, where a very weak rand is up against a strong pound (likewise, though
overseas rates are high, the cost for just having a phone here is extremely low — Paul, the
Australian who works at Cable & Wireless earlier said that to get a dial tone on the island
costs only about £3/US$4.50 a month).
Another employment inequity on the island has to do with retirement: in the UK, a
government worker is part of a pension scheme which will transfer with you if you move to a
different job (or if you decide to quit, you can opt to receive part of it) — but this isn't the
case on St. Helena, where if you quit your low-paying government job anytime before
retirement, you lose every cent of you pension, making people virtual prisoners of their low-
paying jobs. Decent employment on the island is so rare that while visiting the US on
tourist visa, Nigel's brother (with the aid of a lawyer) actually managed to convince the US
Immigration Service that St. Helena is a third-world country with no opportunities, and was
given a 10-year work permit. Working now as a welder in Flordia, he is currently attending
art college as well — something he would be unable to do on St. Helena.
The three of us stayed up talking until 1:30am, and after jotting a few notes down in
my journal, it was close to 2:00am by the time I returned to the cabin to fall asleep.
Jan. 3: RMS
Up at 6:50am this morning to Colin coming in with the juice, my knee felt a little
better, though it was still somewhat sore, and I'd need to continue staying off it as much as
possible. After a shower I walked outside onto the sun deck, where much to my surprise I
heard the sound of a cricket coming from somewhere (a stowaway!) Looking at the water
below, I was amazed at its color: as someone used to the green waters of a coastline, seeing
the deep royal blue water of the open sea was really something else.
After breakfast I lied down to read more of "Red October", though in a sad departure
from the norm, the book unfortunately didn't seem to measure up to its movie counterpart.
At 11:00am shuffleboard was organized on the deck, and with nothing much else to do, I
decided to give it a shot. Though I didn't win, I actually did quite well for my first time (the
winner was the "proper" British gentleman I sat with a few nights ago on the 8:00pm dinner
sitting).
This morning I went down to buy a satellite telephone card (£8/US$12) from Nigel at
the purser's bureau (though both he and Carl staff the bureau, Nigel usually handles it
when Carl is looking after the store). The cards are available in £8/US$12 or £16/US$24
demoninations, though at the rate of £3.20/US$4.80 a minute for all calls, my £8/US$12
card would be used up in 2.5 minutes. Though I bought the satellite card more as a
souvenir than anything else (as I love collecting telephone cards), I did manage to use the
"entire" 2.5 minutes between both the St. Helena and Tristan da Cunha sailings. Because of
the high rates, credit is deducted in increments of a few seconds rather than minutes: an £8
card has 25 credits, and as you talk, that number quickly becomes smaller. A few notes on
the satellite phone: calls to most American toll-free (800/888/877/866) numbers are
allowed, though at full satellite rates... the system cannot detect when a call is answered on
the other end, so the mouthpiece won't activate and credits won't start being deducted from
your card until you press the "#" button (if "#" isn't pressed within about 30 seconds, the
call will just disconnect). Normally this would be a great way to check messages on an
answering machine at home for free (as you don't need to "talk" to your machine), except the
keypad doesn't produce the needed touch-tones. Whenever I became really bored on the
ship, I'd walk into the phone booth to call a few pre-recorded 800 numbers in the States (a
kid's story line, daily currency exchange rate, etc.) without pressing "#", and would be
entertained for 30 seconds until the free call disconnected.
As well as the satellite telephone card from the purser's bureau, I also bought a few
things at the store: for £2/US$3 I picked up the "St. Helena's Rights Under International
Law" pamphlet, some St. Helena postcards and stamps (postcards are 25p/38c to mail
anywhere in the world, with letters 30p/45c), and a copy of the book "Music on St. Helena"
by Eric M. George, the island's main musician and a really nice fellow (£2.99, with net
proceeds going to the St. Helena Handicapped Persons Aid Society). Eric has written two
books on music and St. Helena: the first ("Music on St. Helena") delves into the history of
music on the island, touching on subjects from the various musical styles to the island's
organized groups, as well as compositions by locals and musical examinations. The second
book (currently sold out, though Eric is planning a re-print — he generously sent me an
extra copy after I returned home) is called "St. Helena Songs 1941-1994", and is a book
containing the actual tunes written on the island by local Saints throughout the years (with
melody, lyrics, and chord notations above the staff). Many were written by children for
various island competitions, and for the ones where no written record or old audio tape
existed, Eric transcribed the songs from people who could still remember and sing them.
Those interested in musicology will find both Eric and his two books fascinating... he can be
contacted by writing to: Eric M. George, New Ground Camp, St. Helena Island.
For lunch I ate with Pat/#3 and his relatives (the South African shoeman born on St.
Helena)... there were six of them travelling together, and they were all extremely nice. One
of today's choices for lunch was stuffed St. Helena tuna steak, and it was hands down the
best tuna I've ever had, as well as one of the best lunches served on the ship. When
ordering, I asked for a smaller portion (as I wasn't getting any exercise), but as usual, the
sizes are set before cooking, and my portion was the same as everyone else's. Still, with
today being one of the ship's best lunches, I was glad the portion hadn't been sized down.
Every day while out at sea a noontime announcement is given (usually at 12:30pm),
in which the officer on duty (usually Andrew) announces what the ship's current position,
speed, and distance from land was at 12 noon, as well as any other relavant information —
and as of noon today, we were half-way to St. Helena.
Relaxing outside, I joined Peter and Nigel again (sitting on the small balcony
overlooking the sun deck) for a chat. In his job as assistant purser, Nigel works three
months at a time for a total of six months a year (3 months work, 3 months off) — and
though he only works a total of 6 months for a year's salary, it's a tiring and demanding job,
with practically no days off during the 3 months he's working, and no days off while at sea.
Though officers' quarters are nicer, the crew accomodations aren't bad either, with a TV,
small refrigerator, and other amenities in the cabin — though the crew must sleep two per
room (bunk bed style), and are at sea with no privacy for three months at a time. Though
not many people were outside today (too hot perhaps?) a nice French couple I had met
earlier joined us to talk about Napoleon and his history on St. Helena (Napoleon was exiled
to, and died on the island). The husband had worked in Texas at one point for Philips
Petrolium (chemecal division), so both spoke English well, and like most people on the St.
Helena sailing, were exceptionally nice (looking off the side of the ship, I spotted some flying
fish).
Later in the afternoon, I thought I should take out the Chinese-made student violin I
had brought with me and practice a bit just to keep my fingers active. Noticing the "Do Not
Disturb" sign on Beth and Rachael's cabin door across the way, I decided to go outside so as
not to disturb them. Though the sun deck was pretty deserted by now (unusual... perhaps
people were indoors watching the movie), I decided to grab a chair and head up to the funnel
deck to literally play right under the large yellow funnel of the ship. Not really practicing
but just trying to keep my fingers from getting too much out of shape, I played for about 20
minutes before a Dutch couple came up and asked if I'd mind them playing deck quoits on
one side (as the funnel deck is the area where deck quoits are played). I didn't mind, though
I put the violin away a few minutes later. With the low noise of the engine and my distance
away from people, I wasn't sure if anyone had heard me or not, but when I later asked, no
one (other than the couple playing deck quoits) even knew I had taken out the violin.
After putting the violin back in the cabin, I returned to the shop to buy some more
postcards, deciding to write them out now so they'd be posted on the 7th from Ascension
rather than being delayed until we were back in Cape Town on the 17th.
Dinner tonight was with the usual crowd, and another good serving of fish: fresh
trout. During the 8:00pm dinner sitting, a video was once again shown for the 6:45pm
diners, but I opted to go out onto the sun deck — and wound up spending about 40 minutes
walking up and down the sides of the ship to get some exercise and gently help my knee get
back into shape. Though just about everyone was inside watching the video, Alan (a nice
relative of Pat the shoe man) came out for a smoke and chuckled at what I was doing.
During my walk up and down the sides of the ship, I decided to open a door at the end
leading to the crew quaters, and there in the hallway was a green South African card phone.
Deciding to try it on a lark, I inserted my South African card and dialed a random number
in South Africa. It soon began to ring, but no one picked up. Curious why I would even
receive a ring (as it's not a satellite phone and we were out at sea), I tried dialing a number
in the US (where it would have a different ring), but received the same type of ring as when
dialing the first number (obviously it wasn't placing any real calls, but where was it ringing
to?)
At 9:30pm it was time for another trivia quiz in the main lounge, and as with before,
it was harmless fun which helped pass the time in the evening. At 11:00pm I talked a bit
with Beth and Rachael about various things (the US, the UK, St. Helena), and I heard that a
young Saint kid on the ship had chicken pox (uh-oh... I never had it as a kid!) — though it
later turned out to be something else. After writing a bit in my journal, I went outside at
midnight to try to find the southern cross, but saw only clouds above. Turning on my little
radio, the ship was now too far from land to receive any FM stations, but SW reception was
loud and clear.
Going back to my cabin to turn in for the night, I noticed a strange sight: my
bunkmate Howard wasn't in the cabin (every night, he'd always be sleeping by the time I
walked in) — so instead of going to sleep, I decided to walk back out and see if I could find
him. Instead, I found myself in the main lounge where some Saints were just closing the
alcove curtain in order to start a video (as most people had gone to bed already). The movie
was "The Bachelor", and though I tried to watch it for a bit, I left after about 20 minutes.
Walking upstairs, I found Howard sitting in the sun lounge, talking to Peter (saying "you
always come in after me... I thought I'd stay up for a change too!") The three of us talked for
a while and didn't turn in until 1:30am (one of the things I enjoyed about the RMS were
some of these late night conversations, especially as the ship can be nice and quiet once
most people retire for the evening).
Jan. 4: RMS [Engine Room Tour / Curnow Problems / Braai]
Up at 6:50am again, it was cloudy this morning. Going upstairs to read move of "Red
October", I relaxed for a bit before breakfast. Afterwards, I returned to the cabin to separate
my luggage into those items I'd need with me on St. Helena and those I could leave in
storage on board the ship. With only the one backpack though, I asked Nigel if he had an
extra bag I could use to store some of my things in... he said he'd have to take a look.
At 9:30am I went on a tour of the engine room conducted by one of the British crew,
who took a small group of us down for a look at the two trouble-makers — as well as the
broken turbo-charger, now lying motionless on the floor waiting to be repaired (it couldn't be
fixed on board the ship, so the spare was installed instead... if the spare was to break, we'd
be out of luck — yet when I asked if a new spare would be waiting for the ship in Cape Town
on the 17th, I was told that they wouldn't be picking up a spare until the ship finally
returned to the UK in March).
Walking into an area near the control room, I noticed a crew member busy trying to
fix another problem at a worktable: a broken cylinder head (hmm...) The control room has a
similar look to it as the bridge, with computer monitors, levers, and lots of dials and
displays. One of the two monitors was displaying a list of engine "alarms" that had gone off
recently, though we were told they were all minor. Our guide pointed at a gauge indicating a
current propeller speed of 600rpm, saying we were going about as fast as we could go.
Though the engine room is manned 24hrs a day, there's usually only one person on duty, so
the control panel has a red button which must be pushed every 20 minutes to tell the ship
that the operator is alive and well, or an alarm will go off.
Due to the extremely loud noise in the engine room itself, we were given most of our
information out in the control area, as we were forced to wear earplugs in the engine room
(given out at the start of the tour, and quite useful against later bunkmates who snored).
The doors into and out of the main engine room are electronic, but in the event of a power
loss, there's a manual hydrolic pump. With the ship's two engines, 25 tons of fuel is used
each day.
When the tour was over shortly after 10:00am, I bought two more postcards from the
store, wrote them, and dropped them in the mailbox before playing another game of skittles
at 11:00am. With 29 points (from two sets), "Larry's Layabouts" lost to "The Saints" (35
points) again, but everyone had a great time. After skittles, I took out Eric George's "Music
on St. Helena" book until the lunch music came on over the PA.
Going down to the galley for lunch, I wound up ordering only the soup and dessert,
returning to the sun deck for a light buffet lunch of Thai chicken, cheese, and fruit salad —
as with tonight being the last night before arriving at St. Helena, an outdoor braai (BBQ)
was planned.
Something I should mention at this point is that while I felt the staff and crew of the
RMS were excellent at their jobs, I had numerous problems dealing with the Curnow offices
(operators of the RMS) in England. With branches in Cape Town and St. Helena, I made the
mistake of thinking it would be better to deal with the head office in the UK rather than the
smaller offices... Wrong. Trying to get information from the UK office was like trying to
extract gold from a turnip, and they gave me nothing but headaches...
For those living in the UK, there's usually an "open ship" day while the RMS is
docked at Cardiff: you're allowed to drop by and have a look at the inside of the RMS while
it's in port (many Brits take advantage of being able to look inside the various cabins and
decide which one to reserve), but if you don't live in Britain, it was almost as if Curnow's UK
office went out of their way to make things difficult for you. Fortunately Curnow is no
longer the operator of the RMS (having lost the contract to a competitor [Andrew Weir
Shipping Ltd.] in Spring 2001) — but for anyone wondering why Curnow might have lost the
contract, just keep reading, as here are just a few examples of what it was like dealing with
their head office: when the RMS broke down in November 1999 just a few weeks before I was
to sail on it, no one from Curnow contacted me to let me know the ship wouldn't be sailing.
I realize things must have been chaotic then, but one would think that contacting the
booked passengers would be a top priority. For me at least it wasn't, and if I hadn't found
out about the breakdown via the internet and telephoned to see what was happening, I very
well could have shown up at Duncan Docks one day in December only to find no ship
waiting for me. When finally reaching Curnow about the breakdown, I was assured I'd be
contacted about an updated schedule... but it never happened. Though I gave them two
telephone numbers and an email address, I heard nothing from them — and once again I
had to call THEM to find out what was going on.
For almost four years — from the time I first sent in my reservation to the time I
boarded the ship in Cape Town, Curnow's promises to get back to me with information were
never kept. I would send an email asking a question, and when no reply was received,
would call them up a few weeks later to hear "yes, we received your email," as they'd then
answer my question — but they could never be bothered with me unless I called THEM.
Even as the time for the 2000/2001 sailing approached, nothing had changed: in October, I
called to request that the tickets be mailed out (as I was told they could be mailed out at any
time)... the lady said she'd do it right away, but after a month and no tickets, I finally had to
call them up again (as emails would never be answered) to ask "do I need tickets to board
the RMS?" — and when the answer was "yes", had to remind them that they still hadn't sent
out my tickets.
The Curnow UK office didn't just have a problem with terrible customer service, they
were inept as well: in 1999 I was able to reserve cabin C49 (the budget 2-person cabin with
a porthole) for only 2 of the 4 segments, but in 2000 it was available for 3 of the 4 segments
— and the people already holding the cabin for the one remaining segment only had a
tentative reservation. Requesting the cabin for the 3 available segments, I asked to be
placed on the waiting list for the remaining St. Helena -> Cape Town segement should it
become available (in order to have the same cabin for the entire trip). In February 2000 I
received a letter indicating that the cabin had indeed become available, yet instead of just
making the change automatically as I had requested, the letter asked if I wanted the cabin
or not. Returning from my African trip two weeks later, I emailed Curnow a "yes", but (of
course) received no response from them. After some time, I phoned them up only to hear
that as they "hadn't heard back from me", they gave it to someone else who had since
requested it (a Saint), even though I had requested long ago to automatically be given the
cabin should it become avaiable, and emailed a confirmation as soon as I returned home.
Since the Saint was a woman, I couldn't share the cabin with her — so in the end I was
stuck having to move to a different cabin for 1 of my 4 segments on board the RMS. There
were other problems as well (discussed later), such as Curnow trying to charge me
£50/US$75 to stay on board the ship for the night between my two sailings when no one
else was asked to pay — but it now seems that Curnow's unprofessionalism has caught up
with them, as their contract to run and manage the RMS has thankfully been taken away.
One thing that needs to be pointed out is that I'm an experienced independent traveller who
is used to having to find out information on my own the hard way (drop me in the middle of
Africa and I'll be fine) — but most of the RMS' travellers are not in this catagory, and I kept
thinking that if it was my father taking this trip and not someone used to dealing with travel
headaches like myself, he would have had a miserable time thanks to Curnow's UK office.
Why do I bring all this up now? Because most everyone else on board the RMS was
sent nice, small tourist maps of St. Helena and Jamestown with their tickets — but not me
of course. So borrowing the map from the German couple, I went to use the ship's copy
machine (in a small room next to the phone/email booth) when no one was looking. Though
I'm not exactly sure what the ship's policy is on passengers using the machine, with all the
headaches Curnow had put me through, I was going to copy the maps they were supposed
to send me whether they liked it or not (especially as with our delayed arrival time of late
Friday afternoon thanks to the RMS' engines, the tourist office would most likely be closed
for the first two days).
Going back outside, I dragged a chaise lounge to the side of the ship with shade and
sat down to read more of the pamphlet on St. Helena rights as well as more of "Red October"
— though with it being quite warm today, I decided to go in the pool for about 45 minutes.
Already in the pool were 3 younger Saint kids, and I was amazed at how friendly and polite
they were — not just to me, but to each other as well.
After the pool I sat outside at a table under an umbrella talking to James for a bit.
He's an interesting fellow who certainly proves you're much better off being young at heart:
at 83, he was incredibly active, sharp, and thoughtful — and it was interesting to note the
difference between him and another elderly passenger only 3 years older, who hobbled along
everywhere.
A bit later Nigel gave me something to store my things in while on St. Helena: an
older, used "RMS St. Helena" duffel bag. Taking it to the cabin, I proceeded to fill it with the
items I wouldn't need while on the island, and would eventually keep it as payment for all
the headaches in dealing with Curnow over the past four years. As well, I picked up some
tipping envelopes from Nigel, and asked about tipping proceedure... because some of the
staff invariably leaves the ship for their vacations in St. Helena or Cape Town, many
passengers tip at the end of each segment rather than at the end of the entire trip, and Nigel
mentioned that the only people who should be tipped (should you feel so inclined) are your
cabin steward, your dinner server, and the man who delivers drinks from the bar (as for the
other crew members, those with jobs where tips aren't given have higher salaries). I'd
definitely tip our cabin attendant, and never ordered any drinks from the bar — but I was
unsure about what to do with the meal servers. We were only supposed to tip our assigned
dinner table server, but what about those who served us the other meals? I'd usually be at
a different table for breakfast and lunch than for dinner, and had a wonderful waitress
during the day. On the other hand, our dinner table's waitress wasn't one of the better ones
and often ignored us... so what to do? In the end, I couldn't bring myself to tip the waitress
this time (the only time I didn't tip on any of the four segments), but left Colin £5/US$7.50,
well within the suggested "50p-£1/day" range.
As I was the only American on board (other than the German-born doctor now living
in Conneticut who seemed more European than American), I stood out a bit from the other
passengers, and after a while most of the staff knew me by my first name. My American
upbringing wouldn't allow me to partake in some of the pomp-and-circumstance formality
which occasionally showed itself (ie, I refused to wear a suit and tie on a ship you must take
if you want to reach St. Helena), and I'm sure other things about me amused the staff as
well. One thing which confused me (until I finally just gave up on the whole thing) was the
table layout with all the multiple forks, spoons, and knives. I had no idea which spoon to
use for what — to me, a spoon is a spoon (one of the nicer waitresses chuckled when I
thought the fish knife was the butter knife, for I'd use it constantly to butter my rolls until
she volunteered that it was really the fish knife). Another reason the staff would know me
though, was that I'd try to talk to them as people, not just as employees. I can well imagine
how the routine of their job must get to them at times, and a little kindness goes a long way
(not to mention that many are very interesting people to talk with).
In the afternoon I laid out in the shade to do some more reading. Not remembering
afternoon tea until 4:30pm, all the biscuits (cookies) were gone, though I did grab a small
half-sandwich. Two videos on St. Helena were then shown in the lounge: one from the
1960s, and a more recent one from the 1990s. When the videos were finished, I walked
back outside to see the sun deck decorated for the evening's braai, complete with flags and
checkered tablecloths.
Standing by the pool, a Saint by the name of Bill came up to me to say hello, and we
began to talk. Bill lives in Longwood, and is in the home construction business... blasting
stones from the quarry he owns, he then puts them in a crusher and uses them to build
homes. Mentioning that there are about 20-40 new homes built on the island each year, he
told me a lot of Saints go off to the UK or Ascension to work... they'll earn money, come back
years later, get some land, and want to build a house (though there are also plenty of people
who want to just re-do or fix up their existing homes). Turning to politics, Bill wasn't shy
about his opinions, saying he no longer votes... he feels once Councilors are elected, they
just take their pay and refuse to bring up the important issues facing the island, knowing
where their salaries come from. The British-appointed governors usually stay for a term of
only 2-3 years, and are forced to leave just as they start to understand the island (at this
Bill's wife nodded in agreement, adding that while there indeed have been some decent
governors in the past, they always have to be replaced by a new one every few years). When I
asked Bill why he doesn't run for the Council himself, he said, "well, then I'd be clashing
with those that just take the money and shut up... and it's a small island..."
Talk then turned to the disparity of salaries between locals and ex-pats, with Bill
mentioning that Saint teachers who go overseas for years to train return to the island to the
same low pay, while similarly-qualified ex-pat teachers are paid substantially higher.
Because of this, many Saints leave the island to work on Ascension or in the UK, where
their pay will be in line with their qualifications. He said the (UK-controlled) Government
refuses to pay a similarly-qualified local anywhere near the scale or benefits given to visiting
ex-pats, mentioning that the problem isn't just with teachers, but other professions as well,
such as nurses (to be fair, there certainly are many jobs without qualified Saints where
outside personnel must be brought to the island — but in areas where there ARE qualified
locals, the pay is no where near equal). Bill then mentioned the high unemployment rate on
the island, commenting that there were many things that could be done to both give people
jobs and make the island a better place: widen the roads, fix the crumbling batteries on the
cliff — but it never happens.
Along with his wife and son, Bill was returning from a 3-month holiday in the UK...
and when I asked what they missed most living on St. Helena (jokingly suggesting Chinese
food), his wife replied that it wasn't so much the food but the hardware — everything from
auto parts to needed home supplies (as such necessary items often aren't available on the
island, people must learn to improvise: "In the UK, if you need a part, you just buy it. On
St. Helena, you have to be inventive and make do with what you have... figure something
out..." she said). Mentioning that they had stayed on a dairy farm in the UK, Bill couldn't
believe the farm's practice of killing a newborn calf whenever one was born. Asking the
farmer why he didn't raise them to slaughter for meat later on, the farmer's reply was that it
would cost too much money. Upon hearing that about 50 newborn bulls are killed at the
farm each year for this reason (with the meat going to hunting dogs), he couldn't believe the
waste of good cows, especially with all the mad cow disease problems going on right now:
"On St. Helena, they'd raise the bulls to slaughter them later for plenty of disease-free meat!"
Bill said proudly. When the subject of the pre-arranged, forced dinner sittings came up, Bill
laughed, saying "Well, they're British... I mean, look at this braai even... a BBQ is a rough
and informal meal... you slap the meat on, put your fork in your pocket, grab some food,
and eat — standing or sitting wherever you want, not any of this 'sit down with tablecloths'
stuff..." He went on to say that he preferred South Africa over the UK: the UK was too cold
and the ground too damp (with cows' hooves going too deep into the ground), and felt that
South Africa had a better mix of tall buildings and small homes, large cities and small
villages.
Bill (like most Saints) has a strong accent (pronouncing "island" almost like "oilan"),
but though the accent takes a bit of getting used to, it's really not as difficult as many
people say. Many Saints will drop their accent when speaking to non-Saints (or consciously
try to speak clearer), but if you just pay attention and listen carefully, it's easy to make out
what's being said. Sometimes if you hear two Saints speaking amongst themselves
peripherally it may sound like gibberish — but if you actually try to listen to them, you'll
find you can understand what's being said.
Bill introduced me to his teenage son, telling me he wants to become a bomb-
defusing diver in the Royal Navy. When I asked Bill what he thought of his son wanting
such a dangerous occupation, he replied that at first he wasn't sure, but since we're all
going to die in some way, why not do what you like doing? As talk moved back to St.
Helena, Bill mentioned that kids like to slide down the 699-step Jacob's Ladder staircase in
Jamestown (I noticed a picture of kids doing this in the 2001 St. Helena calendar for sale in
the ship's store), though he says he never did it himself. He did say that when locals climb
Jacob's Ladder, they swing their legs to make it easier on the muscles (as you lift your foot,
swing that leg quickly behind your other leg before setting it down on the next step). Talking
about driving on the island (as I had planned to rent a car), Bill chuckled, saying "don't
worry, you can't get lost on St. Helena — it's the size of this pool" — pointing at the ship's
tiny swimming pool.
Finally it was 8:00pm and time for dinner: a buffet-style American BBQ with beef,
spare ribs, fruit, garlic bread, cake, and much more. Having the meal outside in the warm
evening air was a perfect idea, but this was the only time it happened during my four
segments on the RMS. After dinner was the awards presentation for the winners of some of
the competitions (shuffleboard, the daily crosswords, etc.), followed by dancing out on the
deck. Though I went onto the dance floor a few times, doing so was a bit of a strain on my
knee (which was beginning to feel much better), so I soon stopped and just relaxed in the
chairs, talking to people, and leaving occasionally to do some laundry in the laundry room.
With the clocks being set back an hour again tonight, I wound up turning in at
1:00am/12:00am.
Some misc. info: being a British ship, the RMS has strict rules about dumping at sea,
and other than approved food waste, nothing is thrown overboard. Nigel mentioned that the
rules are so strict that they no longer allow kids to throw bottles with messages in them
overboard as they once did... though it's not too much of a problem, on rare occasion, there
will be a bit of soot from the funnel out on the sun deck... in May 2001 Curnow lost its bid
to continue running and managing the RMS for the next 5 years to Andrew Weir Shipping
Ltd. The changeover will take place in August 2001, and as happy as I am to hear that
Curnow will no longer be in charge of the RMS, I sincerely hope that the ship's excellent
staff and crew will keep their jobs — and that Tanya (the only land-based Curnow employee
who was any good, from the Cape Town office) will find employment with the RMS' new
operators.
Jan. 5: St. Helena [St. Helena Facts]
Though Colin came in at 6:50am with tea and juice, I had already been up since
5:00am, as Howard had been turning and shifting in his sleep. Going up to the main lounge
at 7:15am, I talked with Peter for a bit before breakfast, and afterwards went outside to
relax and chat with some of the other passengers. The weather today was cloudy but still
quite warm, and would be typical of what I'd experience while on the island this week.
Later in the morning I went to change US$100 worth of US$ travellers checks into St.
Helenan pounds at the ship's terrible rate of £1=US$1.70. As the ship would be off to
Ascension while I was on St. Helena, I wanted some extra money to play it safe — but as it
turned out, cashing travellers checks on the island was a breeze, with a much better
exchange rate at either the Castle or Solomon's than on the ship (for the $100 I changed on
the RMS, the difference between their exchange rate and the correct rate used on the island
was $7.82 — almost an 8% markup).
For lunch very tasty pilau was served (pronounced almost like "plow", it's a beef and
potato curry with rice, and is a traditional St. Helena dish). After lunch I went to leave my
backpack outside the cabin door, as luggage to be taken onto the island would be collected
at 2:00pm. As well, I left the duffel bag with the items I wouldn't need for the next week on
the bed for someone to pick up and store on board the RMS.
By 1:00pm St. Helena could faintly be seen in the distance, though it was quite hazy
and overcast that afternoon (it was also quite warm — and you could definitely feel the sun
through the clouds). Walking up to the bridge level on the port side for a look, I started
talking with a younger Brit who had spent 3 months on the island back in 1999 working
with one of the overseas agencies of the UK Government... he's now back to stay for a year,
and will be involved in trying to think up new ideas to help the island's economy get moving
again. A bit later a large container vessel could be seen off in the distance on the starboard
side... it didn't stop at St. Helena, and was probably going between Cape Town and South
America.
Instead of going back down, I stayed outside by the bridge for the entire approach to
St. Helena... as we came closer, its land appeared very barren and brown — and while this
is the case with much of the island's perimeter, it can be extremely mis-leading, for much of
St Helena's interior is lush, green, and wet.
Arriving at the south end of the island, we sailed around its east side towards the
main city and port of Jamestown... off in the distance I could see the small town nestled
snugly in a valley, as well as the settlement of Half Tree Hollow (where I'd be staying) up on
the cliff above. Connecting the two is the 699-step staircase known as Jacob's Ladder, and
from the ship, the famous staircase appeared as a diagonal line right up the side of the
mountain. In the harbor were some yachts, including some left over from the recent
Governors Cup (a few of which the RMS would bring back to Cape Town), and just to the left
of Jamestown was Rupert's Bay, where oil for the island is offloaded and the Argos fish
factory is located.
Anchoring off the island at 3:35pm, everyone went to the main lounge on A-deck to
meet St. Helenan immigration, who along with Basil and Barbara George of Magma Tours,
arrived via a small boat. Once immigration was set up in the alcove, the process started...
one-by-one we were asked for our passports, and for those who weren't UK or
Commonwealth citizens, proof of medical insurance (yesterday the chief purser mentioned
the reason for this was that a recent visitor to the island from an un-named country was
given medical treatment — then left the island without paying the bill). After paying the
£11/US$16.50 landing fee and having my passport stamped with the incorrect year (5 JAN
2000 — I didn't notice it until much later), I was given a launch ticket (Launch #2), and told
to wait until it was ready to go.
When finished with immigration, I talked with Basil George to ask him about the
possibility of joining two of their tours usually reserved just for those who pre-book the
entire week... I was able to sign up for the two at £10 each (supplying my own lunch), but in
the end I wound up not actually going on either one, as by that time I had already seen the
same places on the Charabanc tour, and had become too busy with various other activities
and people I needed to meet (though everyone later raved about the tours, and how much
information Basil provided). Calling the night before the the tours to tell Basil I wouldn't be
going, he offered to refund my money — but I told him to keep it, as I was cancelling at the
last minute and possibly taking a spot away from someone else (though I did get a look at
the kombi used for the tours, and it was completely full even without me). Still, he insisted
on returning the money, so I finally told him just to give it to charity — but before I left the
island, £20 was waiting for me at Larry and Joy's (the people whom I stayed with), along
with a note which read "with compliments, Basil George" on his business card. Not wanting
to take it, I offered it to Joy (as she and Larry had been extremely kind to me), but she
refused as well — finally accepting it only as a donation for the hospital where she worked.
A few minutes later I was on board one of the small launches for the quick trip from
the RMS (anchored off the coast) to the Jamestown docks. Even though the sea was calm,
the waves near shore had been quite rough recently, so only 15 people were being allowed in
each launch rather than the usual 25 — but soon I was getting off of the launch and
climbing onto St. Helena for the first time. Standing there for a moment, I thought about
how long I had wanted to visit St. Helena and Tristan da Cunha, and here I was finally
visiting the first of the two! (At least I was dressed appropriately: I was wearing "Island
Lines" shorts).
First a few facts and a general overview on St. Helena: the island is situated in the
middle of the South Atlantic Ocean, 5"43' west and 15"56' south, 1,200 miles from the
south-west coast of Africa (off Angola), and 1,800 miles from South America. St. Helena has
two dependent islands: Ascension (which is the closest land, at 703 miles to the north-west)
and Tristan da Cunha, far to the south. St. Helena is 47 square miles (10.5 miles long and
and 6.5 miles wide), with plenty of rocky terrain. There is little flat land on the island, and
no white sandy beaches. Diana's Peak (2,685ft) is usually referred to as the highest point on
the island, though nearby Cuckold's Point is actually just a bit higher. As the island is in
the tropics, tradewinds keep the weather mild and comfortable all year long, though the
weather can vary greatly in different areas of the island. Temperatures can range from 20C-
32C (70F-90F) during the summer, and 15F-26F (60F-80F) during the winter, with
temperatures usually being 5C-10C (10F-20F) lower in the central interior areas.
St. Helena was discovered by Portuguese navigator Joao da Nova, who landed in what
would become Jamestown on 21 May 1502 (and with the 500th anniversary of that date
coming next year, there were plans for a big celebration on the island). The first Englishman
(Thomas Cavendish) anchored at James Bay in 1588, and in 1659, the English East India
Company took possession of the island and started the first permanent settlement at
Jamestown (then called Chapel Valley). Dutch opposition to this culminated in an invasion
in December 1673, when the English were forced to withdraw before they came back and
bombed the Dutch into surrender. The East India Company held the island under charter
until 1834, when it was brought under the direct Government of the British Crown. Over
the years the island has had many famous visitors, including Edmond Halley (who came in
1677 to catalogue the stars of the southern hemisphere), Captain Cook (in 1775 on the way
home during his second circumnavigation), and Charles Darwin (in 1836). The most famous
visitor to the island however, was Napoleon Bonaparte, who was exiled to St. Helena in 1815
following his defeat at Waterloo. First living contently at Briars Pavillion, he was then moved
to Longwood House, where he died in 1821. He was burried at Geranium (Sane) Valley,
chosen by Napoleon himself for the peacefulness and beauty, and although his body was
removed and sent to Paris in 1840, the tomb remains, with it, Briars, and Longwood House
considered to be French property.
During the 1840s St. Helena was an important base for Royal Naval vessels fighting
the slave trade, and those slaves who stayed on in the colony as laborers or domestic
servants became part of the island's racial mix. With the advent of steam and the opening of
the Suez Canal in 1869, the island's economy took a beating from which it has never fully
recovered — though there were short periods of prosperity (often due to St. Helena being a
place of exile for prisoners). In 1890, the Zulu chief Dinizulu was exiled here (where he
remained for 7 years), and in 1900, 6,000 Boer prisoners of war were exiled to St. Helena —
though by 1903 they had all departed and St. Helena was in poverty once more. In 1907 the
growing of New Zealand flax became the island's main source of income, as St. Helena
supplied the British postal service with flax for their string and rope until synthetic fiber
caused a collapse of the industry in the 1960s. For many years the ships of the Union
Castle Line would call at the island on their way to-and-from South Africa, but this stopped
in 1977, and today the island is quiet and peaceful without much of an economy (though
there are plans to build an airport). As things stand now, the island exports a small amount
of coffee (said to be gourmet and among the best in the world — but it's only done on a small
scale) and a reasonable amount of fish (Ruperts Bay is the site of the large joint-venture
Argos plant, where fish is frozen and stored until the next ship comes to call). There is
plenty of tuna and wahoo off St. Helena, and you can buy tins of St. Helena tuna in the
island gift shops as well as on the RMS. There is also a St. Helena Development Agency (set
up in 1995), charged with finding ways to make the island become more self-supporting...
hopefully they will find some good ideas in the coming years. Though St. Helena is rural,
there's not much land suitable for farming, so while certain vegetables, potatoes, maize, and
cattle are cultivated here, just about everything else has to be imported.
There are no commercial banks on the island (only the governent bank at the Castle
for locals) — though you can cash travellers checks either there or at Solomon's Shipping
Office. Credit cards are quite new on St. Helena, and can be used for purchasing goods at
certain businesses — but be aware that most will add a surcharge for their use, and the
percentage varies with each business. Though there are small sub-post offices located in
general stores throughout the island, the main St. Helena post office is in the heart of
Jamestown, and is divided into two sections: the left is the "normal" side for postal
transactions, and the right is the philatelic area, where you can buy stamps and other
souvenirs of the island (credit cards are accepted on the philatelic side only).
There is a taxi rank across from the Market Building in Jamestown, but it's easy to
just get a lift from someone if they're headed the same way, as Saints are extremely friendly
(the taxis have no meter and you'll need to agree on a fare in advance, though as I rented a
car for most of my stay, I never wound up needing one). Because of the narrow winding
roads, speed limits on the island are quite slow: 30mph if there is no posted sign, but many
areas have a 20mph speed limit (I have a humorous picture of two signs posted next to each
other at the top of one of the island's steep hills: the first reads "20", and the second
indicates "no bicycles").
Opening hours for businesses are usually 9:00am-5:00pm Monday-Friday, except for
Wednesday, when everything on the island closes at 1:00pm. Saturdays have staggered
hours, with shops open from 9:00am-1:00pm, then again from 6:30pm-8:30pm — and
everything is closed on Sundays. Though most shops stay open until 5:00pm, some do
close early, and the island's "rush hour" from 4:15pm-5:15pm has many more cars going up
Ladder Hill Road from Jamestown than at any other time of the day. With the addition of
their own St. Helena Day in May, the island's holidays follow those celebrated in the UK.
St. Helena's public library (located in the Castle) is the oldest one in the southern
hemisphere, and visitors may borrow books with a refundable £10 deposit. Next to the
library is the island's Archives, definitely worth a look (they have original books dating from
the 1600s that you can flip through yourself).
For media outlets, the island has its one daily newspaper published every Friday: The
St. Helena News (15p/22c) with a circulation of 1,300 (including 200 sent to overseas
subscribers) — though as of June 2001, the paper officially changed its name to the St.
Helena Herald. They also have a web site (http://www.news.co.sh) where each week's
edition is placed on-line (in PDF format) to help keep overseas Saints up-to-date on news
from home... Radio St. Helena (1548khz/194Mhz) broadcasts 75 hours a week with local
news, interviews, music (from classical to country — though country seems to be the
island's favorite), educational, and religious programs... Cable & Wireless brought television
to the island a few years ago, and there are now three channels plus the newly-added
Discovery Channel (originally there were only two), though you must pay for the service. As
well, the internet recently arrived on the island (first in 1998 by using Ascension's server,
then with St. Helena getting their own server in 1999) — though the connection is painfully
slow for anyone used to a normal one (once I made a remark that people could easily get
new music by downloading MP3s, before realizing just how slow the connection really was...
barely adequate for sending and receiving email, it's not the type where you'd want to do any
serious downloading). As most people on St. Helena don't have their own computer, there
are places where you can go for a public internet connection, ranging from Cable & Wireless
to Tracy's house downtown, where I wound up going (Tracy is the daughter of Colin, the
Charabanc driver).
There is a fairly large (for an island this size) 54-bed General Hospital at the top of
Market Street staffed by ex-pat doctors (though with some local nurses), and next door to it
is the dental surgery and community clinic. Besides the main hospital, there are six smaller
clinics in various parts of the island, though they are usually staffed only once or twice a
week.
As far as island government goes, a Governor is appointed by the British Government
every 2-3 years to manage not only St. Helena, but (with the aid of Administrators), the
dependent islands of Tristan da Cunha and Ascension as well. The island has a
Constitution (the latest from 1988), and the Governor is generally required to obtain and act
in accordance with the advice of the Executive Council, which comprises 3 ex-officio
members and 5 unofficial members nominated by the elected members of the Legislative
Council, as well as the chairs of the 5 Council committees, which are responsible for the
activities of the five major spending departments of the government. The 12 members of the
Legislative Council (from the 8 island districts) get their jobs from a general election held at
least every 4 years.
Education on St. Helena is based on the British system (though there is instruction
in subjects such as marine life and fishing), and all children must attend school between the
ages of 5-15 in primary, secondary, and senior school (students may choose to continue
until age 18, at which point instruction on the island ends). While there are primary and
middle schools throughout the island (though many have recently closed due to a drop in
the number of kids on St. Helena), there is only one senior school: Prince Andrew, located
outside of Jamestown. Because there are no higher education facilities, only a few students
continue on past age 18 (typically in the UK or South Africa), as most can't afford it, and
there are usually only two scholarships available for overseas study in the UK. Many of
those not continuing on will take part in a youth training scheme however, where they will
become apprentices in various occupations.
Food is important on the island, and has many similarities to British fare (there are a
lot of deep-fried eats). Popular local dishes include curry, pilau, and the famous (fried) St.
Helena fishcakes. Most food items need to be imported, and as fresh milk isn't available,
most islanders now use UHT or evaporated milk. Three different types of bananas
(including tiny finger-sized ones) are grown on the island, as well as mangos, guavas, and
other tropical fruits, though non-tropical varieties such as apples and oranges must be
brought to the island via the RMS.
For recreation on St. Helena, there's a wonderful olympic-sized swimming pool by the
shore, a golf course in Longwood (with lots of dry grass), fishing (for sport as well as dinner),
and occasional organized games (there are even tennis courts at Prince Andrew School) —
but the most common exercise for Saints is walking, not just to get to-and-from work, but
taking "walks" (hikes) around various parts of the island.
As a dependency of the UK, St. Helena flies the standard Union Jack — but has its
own flag as well (blue, with a Union Jack in the upper left corner and a shield of arms in the
center). The St. Helena flag can be flown when authorized by the Governor, but it was
always the British Union Jack I saw flying at Ladder Hill Fort or elsewhere on the island.
Here are some statistics from the government-issued "St. Helena in Figures, 1999"
pamphlet:
LAND USE (1998, 12,100 hectares total): Hectares %
Unproductive Land 9,042 75
Arale, Gardens or Past 1,760 15
Forest/Wood 673 6
Flax/Cleared Flax 412 3
Urban 213 2
POPULATION (1998, 4,971 total): Number %
0-14 1,057 21
15-64 3,342 67
65+ 572 12
WORKFORCE (1999)
Employed: 2,005 (81.9%)
Unemployed: 444 (18.1%)
Contract workers on Ascension, the Falklands, or the UK: 1,164
1995 1996 1997 1998
New house plans approved 79 56 45 40
New homes started 50 49 37 26
Fish exported (in tons) 226 222 315 367
Birth rate (per 1,000 births) 14 13 13 12
Death rate (per 1,000 births) 9 9 9 8
KWh (x1,000) of electricity used 4,907 5,051 5,120 5,288
Total imports (94-95, in £1,000) 5,075
Total exports (94-95, in £1,000) 145
Number of schools (1998): 8
Pupils per teacher (1998): 9
The island's population of about 5,000 are mainly descendants of British settlers
and East India Company employees, slaves from the South Asian sub-continent, East
Indies, and Madagascar, and Chinese indentured laborers — all different skin hues and
looks are present.
Saints are among the nicest people you could meet — extremely friendly, outgoing,
eager to say hello and engage in conversation, and first in line to help out when needed.
Their friendliess towards visitors is quite a bit different than their more-reserved Tristan
neighbors, and it really makes one feel welcome. Saints have a few characteristics different
than what I'm used to though (perhaps because of the unique situation they face in living on
an isolated island): in general, Saints are quieter and less confrontational than their British
and American cousins. It's rare to hear a loud or arguing voice in public, and if an opinion
is expressed (even done firmly), it's usually with a soft voice rather than a loud one. This
really hit home on the RMS, as being an American, I'm used to speaking at a certain volume
(as were the British passengers)... but while speaking with Saints on the RMS — whether
one of the crew or an officer such as Jolene or Andrew, I began to notice their voices were
only half as loud as everyone else's. It further hit home as I was up on the bridge one day
during the Tristan sailing, and couldn't even hear 3rd mate Jolene deliver her bridge tour
over the noise of the British passengers, all speaking at top volume. I soon found myself
relaxing a bit as well, speaking with the Saints on board with a voice not shouting for
attention, as everyone else's voice now seemed to be to me. I think many of us tend to speak
louder than we need to, and I often wondered how we must sound to Saints, who are happy
to talk in softer voices and not be so pretentious.
With regard to Saints being non-confrontational, a good example would be while
sailing aboard the RMS with the Governor's wife... she told me over lunch one day how
upset she had been that someone was smoking in the non-smoking area of the lounge —
but was even more upset that none of the Saint staff would do anything about it,
commenting that Saints would never amount to anything because they'll never stand up to
anyone. As bad a comment as this was (and ironic, as the one person Saints would be
standing up to if they WERE more confrontational would be her husband the Governor), she
wasn't 100% wrong... as in general, Saints are indeed much less confrontational than most
people are used to — though one has to wonder if that's really a bad thing. When I
mentioned these comments to Jolene one night on the bridge, Jolene (in her own soft-
spoken voice) agreed that Saints didn't like confrontation, adding that perhaps it was
because they live on an isolated island with the same people, and know they have to get
along with each other.
This non-confrontational attitute also manifests itself in the way people interact with
each other on the streets of St. Helena: you almost can't walk by someone without being
greeted, and no one seems to tire of it. As I was raised in a place where people don't act this
way, I at first thought people must get tired of this all the time — but to Saints it's just a
way of life. After a while most visitors to St. Helena begin to greet people on the street as
well, and I hope a bit of the St. Helena outlook will stay with me back home in Los Angeles.
This difference in attitude really became obvious as I returned to Malaysia for another visit
on the way home: there (as in much of Asia) shoving, bumping, and cutting in line aren't
anything unusual, and Jolene once told me that Saints who go overseas for the first time
have to get used to the different lifestyle (though with videos on the island for the last 10
years, the younger set has at least seen what the outside world is like, whereas 20 years ago
a Saint arriving at Cape Town wouldn't have been half as prepared).
Finally, as part of their general mentality, Saints are never in a rush. After all, this is
an island where there's no airport (at least not yet), and other than a visiting yacht, the
outside world only arrives when a ship docks in Jamestown. There's no frantic rush to have
something done by a certain time, and while people are by no means lazy or slow, the job
gets done when it gets done. One example of this is in the opening hours of businesses:
absolutely everything on the island seems to close down on Wednesday afternoons and
Sundays, even though there is no legal reason for doing so. Nobody runs on the island, they
just walk... and as a stark contrast to life back in Southern California, no one is in a hurry
when they drive: one morning while I was walking down the main street of Half Tree Hollow,
Eric George's wife Ivy recognized me from her car. Stopping to chat for a bit, two other cars
soon came up behind her — and though they both had plenty of room to pass with no
oncoming traffic at the moment, neither car did — instead, both drivers were happy to just
wait for a few minutes until we were finished talking before continuing on. While driving
around myself, it was the same: only ONCE did someone ever pass me, no matter how slow I
went (a young kid driving around Half Tree Hollow at night), though I'd often pull over to the
side where I could to let others pass if I was sightseeing.
Though you can easily walk the distance from where you first step up onto the
island to the customs area (with its canvus tent now returned from the Governor's Cup
function at Plantation House), there was a shuttle bus waiting to take us the short distance.
With the old customs shed situated at the base of a cliff, a temporary customs area with
canvus tent was set up a bit further on due to concerns about rocks falling on the shed.
The dock area is quite small, with just a road winding around the shoreline, a couple of
small offices, and the cargo area for the RMS.
At the customs tent I was unsure what to do about my violin, for it was the one item
which I'd be bringing onto the island but wouldn't be taking back (I was planning on
donating it to a school or some of the young kids on the island, but didn't want to be taxed
for it). The customs form asks people to declare all "high value items" (even for temporary
transit), but as the student violin wasn't really a high value item, I didn't declare it at all —
and in the end, the customs lady just took the form without even looking at it or my baggage
(which hadn't even been offloaded yet).
Almost immediately after stepping out of the customs tent, a middle-aged man
wearing a uniform (which turned out to be a Scoutmaster's uniform, though I couldn't tell at
first) walked up to me and asked if I knew a "Larry Greenfield" who would be coming off of
the ship — and if so, if I could point him out. A bit surprised, I told the man that I was
Larry Greenfield — after which he laughed and greeted me... the man turned out to be Larry
George, the fellow with whom I was to stay with while on the island...
About three years ago while making my initial RMS reservation (two full years before
the time I had originally planned to visit St. Helena), I was sent a list of the various
accomodation choices available on the island by Curnow. Though St. Helena has two hotels
(the Consulate and the Wellington — both in Jamestown), I didn't particularly want to stay
in a hotel — so I considered some of the other options, including a low-cost self-catering flat
which was listed in the brochure at £50/US$75 a week (most were double that). Contacting
the new St. Helena Tourist Office directly (first by phone, then later by email when the
internet arrived in 1998), I made a reservation with them for the self-catering flat for my
planned arrival week in 1999/2000. About a year later I checked back with the Tourist
Office just to make sure everything was still OK, but when I called, someone else picked up
the phone... I was told there was no record of my reservation, and that someone else had
since reserved the flat for the week which I had requested... the lady whom I spoke to a year
earlier was now off in the UK for additional training, and had left no record of my request
with the person taking over. Making matters worse, this was for the Millennium New Years
period, and by the time I found out about the problem, all the other self-catering
establishments had already been booked. The only option now left was one of the hotels,
and that was something I absolutely did not want. The lady working in the Tourist Office
tried to contact her boss in the UK, and over the course of the next few weeks, realized the
miscommunication and mistake made, but they couldn't just take the reservation away from
the person who had it now.
Not wanting to stay in a hotel, I asked if there was any other place I could stay at —
and a few weeks later, heard that if I wished, there was a couple living in Half Tree Hollow
who was thinking about opening their house to guests — if I was interested, it would be
£10/US$15 a night. As there had been no mention of any B&B-style accomodations
anywhere near Jamestown in Curnow's pamphlet at the time, it was something I hadn't even
considered, but thinking it over, I realized this would be better than a self-catering flat, and
quickly agreed to it. Soon afterwards I wrote to Larry and Joy to introduce myself, and
received a nice card back saying they were looking forward to having me. Unfortunately the
RMS had other plans in November 1999, and when the ship broke down off the coast of
France, it completely wiped out everyone's chance to visit the island during the period.
Deciding to try again in 2000/2001, I could have then requested the self-catering flat once
more, but having already corresponded with the Georges — and actually preferring to be
with people rather than by myself in a flat, I wrote and asked if it would still be alright to
stay with them. A few weeks later I received another card telling me it wouldn't be a
problem, and they would plan on seeing me in January. The only concern I had in the back
of my mind was the location I'd be staying at: the Georges live in Half Tree Hollow, a
settlement situated at the top of a cliff overlooking Jamestown... it's close to town as the bird
flies, but for those of us without wings, you must either take a steep winding road, or a 699-
step staircase. Though I had always planned to rent a car while on the island, I began to
have second thoughts, as all the cars on St. Helena are stickshifts, and living in Southern
California, I had virtually no experience driving a stick (literally just for 2 minutes once in
France when I was 16, and around the block at home in a friend's car just a few days before
leaving). If I rented a car, I'd have to learn stickshift on the worst possible roads (steep and
narrow) — but if not, I'd be walking up and down 699 steps a few times each day. Still, I'd
make due somehow, and after all, travel is supposed to be about new experiences, right?
Meeting Larry and his wife Joy, we all introduced ourselves to each other. In his mid
40s, Larry doesn't currently have a regular job, though he has worked on the Falklands in
the past, and now works freelance when needed. He has two daughters from a previous
marriage, and is the Scoutmaster on the island (he was in the middle of a week-long Scout
camp out in Thompson's Wood which he left in order to meet me, but would return back to
stay there through the weekend). Joy used to be a school teacher (it shows — her speech is
very clear), has spent some time in the UK, and now works at the hospital dispensary, giving
out prescriptions.
While standing there waiting for my luggage to come off the ship, I asked if I could
see Pamela at the Tourist Office, as I wanted to pick up some maps and brochures to have
for the weekend. Joy said it was already closed, but pointed Pamela out (waiting with us by
the docks), and introduced me. Confirming that her office was now closed, Pamela did say
that because the RMS arrived a day late, someone would be in the office tomorrow morning
for a few hours if I wanted to stop by.
In passing, I mentioned to Larry and Joy that if possible I'd like to meet Eric George
at some point (the main musician on the island, and the author of two books on St. Helena
music). Larry pointed him out standing just a few feet away, and introduced me to him
(Eric's daughter Sandra had been on the RMS with me returning back to St. Helena, though
I didn't know who she was at the time). Eric is retired now and walks with a cane, but it
doesn't slow him down one bit: the most active musician on the island, he devotes almost all
his time to music, doing everything from coaching the Young Musicians to laser-printing out
plenty of tunes for the various groups on the island to play (he recently orchestrated the
entire musical "Annie" for the available combination of instruments and players from a
piano score for a production at Prince Andrew School). When Eric heard I was a musician,
he immediately asked if I wouldn't mind giving a concert — but not having prepared
anything this year, I declined (originally when I was to visit St. Helena last year I had
planned to give a concert — but I just hadn't had the time this year to work up a program).
I did agree to give an informal concert for the kids in the youth orchestra though, and
offered to coach anyone who needed a lesson — but unfortunately the kids were on break
(with many of them being out at the Scout camp), and the first rehersal wouldn't start until
the day after I was to leave. Eric suggested a special meeting with the kids on Thursday,
and though I told him not to go to any trouble, he managed to arrange a nice informal
concert that was a lot of fun.
When Eric heard I was going to donate a violin to the kids, he was extremely happy
— as a coincidence, he had just placed a notice in last week's St. Helena News asking people
for donations of instruments for the youth orchestra (including violins), so the timing was
perfect. When I mentioned that I had read his "Music on St. Helena" book, he asked if I had
seen his other book as well (the collection of actual songs) — but added that it was sold out
everywhere, though he would try to get me a copy or at least let me have a look at one. A
few minutes later, Eric's son Patrick came by... another musician (wind and brass player),
he was to take the RMS the day after tomorrow to leave for work on Ascension.
If by now you're getting confused with people's names, it's only natural, as there are
many people with the same family name on the island (some more related than others). For
instance, Basil George runs Magma Tours... I would be be staying with Larry George... and
Eric George was the leader of the Young Musicians (later, I'd meet another musician on the
island named George Benjamin!) Because of the similar names, many islanders are known
by their nicknames — many of which they earn early in life, and have forever. Unlike
elsewhere, on St. Helena the nicknames are often substitutes for a family name rather than
a first name (for instance, Larry George's nickname is "Bunny" — but he's not called "Bunny
George", but rather "Larry Bunny"). Some of the nicknames are quite funny, though not
perhaps what you'd want to be known by for the rest of your life (I was told one guy has a
nickname having to do with his bowels: "Blocked") — but the knicknames are known
throughout the island, and are the easiest way to identify people (if I would mention to
someone that I was staying with "Larry George", they'd have to stop and think for a
momemt... but if said I was staying with "Larry Bunny", everyone would immediately know
who I was talking about).
Looking at the canvus tent, I made a comment about it being returned from
Plantation House, and everyone laughed... Patrick had written into the paper about it the
incident, and Larry mentioned that even the young kids at the Scout camp this week were
making jokes about it.
Still waiting for the baggage to be offloaded from the ship, I walked with Larry over to
Donny's for a drink (having my usual Bitter Lemon). Donny's is a newer outdoor restaurant
(and indoor disco on the weekends) by the sea (if looking at the the ocean from the entrance
to Jamestown, customs will be to your right and Donny's will be to your left). Opened in
1998, the restaurant serves a limited menu (usually fried fish, chicken, or cheeseburgers),
though the food is good, and it's one of the few places where you don't have to worry about
pre-ordering your dinner in advance (with its large outside eating area by the water, it's also
quite popular). Donny's is located in the spot where the island's petrol supplies used to be
offloaded in barrels, but with oil now being offloaded in bulk at Rupert's Bay (on the other
side of the shore further out past the docks), Donny bought the land and opened up his
restaurant/pub/disco.
A bit later Joy came by to let us know the baggage has been offloaded. Back at the
customs tent, the lady asked if I had anything other than clothes, personal belongings, and
my declared camera... Larry answered "violin", to which I quickly added "and a radio and
shaver, but none are over US$100", so the customs lady waved me on.
Though Larry and Joy don't have a car, they found a lift with someone to take us
back up to Half Tree Hollow — and I had my first taste of St. Helena's roads going up Ladder
Hill Road. As very little of the island is flat, the roads on St. Helena can really be something
else: many are extremely steep and narrow, and often have hairpin curves. Ladder Hill Road
(the main route out of Jamestown) was widened a few years ago to where about 2/3rds of it
is now wide enough for two-way traffic... but for the parts that aren't (as well as on other
narrow island roads), custom is for any car headed downhill to stop at a pullout (backing up
if necessary) to give any uphill traffic the right-of-way. Many roads (such as the one down to
Sandy Bay) have extreme s-curves while going up/down at the same time, and seem to have
only the exact minimum width required for a car's turning circle (I kept wondering how some
of the small trucks manage on that road). One of the busier roads on the island, Ladder Hill
(built right into the side of the cliff) has only a few blind corners, but is steep enough where
you can easily descend in netural without once putting your foot on the gas pedal (though
the road allows for two-way traffic, the entrance and exit feeder roads to it down by the
Hospital are both one way). Driving up to Half Tree Hollow, I saw a few people walking up
the hill (heading home from work down below in Jamestown), as the only other option other
than getting a lift is the 699-step Jacob's Ladder staircase.
Soon we were up in Half Tree Hollow, and my first impression was that I had landed
on Mars, as the area is extremely barren (due to the volcanic rock, you can't have a normal,
grassy front lawn here). Half Tree Hollow is basically just dirt, rock, a few scrawny shrubs,
and a lot of houses... some people don't like the area because of its looks, but Half Tree
Hollow does have a thing or two going for it: teriffic sunsets, a wonderful view of the ocean
from up on top of the cliff, and a full day of sun (as Jamestown is situated in a deep valley
below, direct sunlight there is lost much earlier than up on top where Half Tree Hollow is).
Because land is cheaper here than in Jamestown (and it's still quite close to town), the area
has grown quite a bit — and there are now more people living in Half Tree Hollow than in
Jamestown.
From the outside, many of the houses here look like large mobile homes, but they are
indeed real houses, with corrugated metal roofs and a rain-water collection pipe leading
down to a large tank (the collected water is for uses other than drinking). Though I would
wind up passing one or two fancier homes while walking around the area later, most were
modest yet liveable: from the outside, they don't seem like much, but once you step inside,
they're just like a home anywhere else.
Larry and Joy live in a pleasant house in the middle of Half Tree Hollow: there's a
nice porch for relaxing, eating, and watching the sunsets, a kitchen by the entrance (with
wood cabinets and a small countertop TV), a decent-sized living room with a larger TV,
Samsung stereo, Amstrad double-VHS VCR (a side-loading unit where you insert the tape
the short way in — I haven't seen one like this since my first VCR, a JVC single-tape unit
bought in 1988!), a bathroom with a shower (with a manual hot-water control box), and a
few bedrooms. I would be staying in the large back bedroom (with a window to the side and
both a twin and a double bed), and everything was neatly made and arranged for me.
Sitting on the outside porch, the three of us looked out at the view as Joy served
some red South African tea and biscuits (cookies). Talk soon turned to food, and when I
mentioned that I had enjoyed the spicy soups served on the RMS (as I add hot sauce to soup
at home), Larry chimed in with his own fondness for spicy soups, saying he adds chili
peppers to his soup even if he starts to sweat.
A bit later, Patsy (the talkative lady from whom I'd be renting a car) dropped by... I
finally decided that I would rent a car (even with them all being stickshifts), and I was
luckier than some in obtaining one: while still on board the RMS, I asked the British chief
purser to reserve a car for me when he emailed the island with the initial tour list. Saying it
wasn't necessary, he assured me that there would be plenty of cars available for rental and I
should just take care of it when I show up. I wasn't so sure though, and was right to be
concerned: when I first mentioned to Larry and Joy that I wanted to arrange a car rental, the
first places they tried had already hired out all their vehicles... then calling someone else for
a suggestion, they tried Patsy, who happened to have a Ford Escort left (but the next day
while dropping in at the Tourist Office, I overheard someone else inquiring about renting a
car — and the girl behind the desk replied that she believed all available cars on the island
had been booked).
The car I'd be renting was an older Ford Escort... it was impossible to tell its year, as
on St. Helena, no one seems to care about such details (whenever there's a notice of a car
for sale in the paper or on the radio, the year of the car is never given or considered
important — instead, the notice will merely mention its condition). The cars on the island
ranged from what appeared to be 1960s models to brand new ones, but the vast majority of
them seemed to be from the late 1970s or early 1980s. My faded lime-green Escort looked
as if it had been put through years of use (which I'm sure it had), but as long as it would
run, it was fine with me.
Patsy dropped by after the 8:00pm Radio St. Helena news, and we sat at the kitchen
table to go over the paperwork. It would be £10/US$15 day for the car rental (the going rate
was £10-£12 a day), and while filling out the required insurance form (no additional charge),
she noticed I wrote "MUSICIAN" down for occupation. When she asked what I did as a
musician, and I mentioned that I mostly play in an opera orchestra and on movie
soundtrack recordings, she asked what movies I had played on. While rattling off some
names, I happened to mention the "South Park" movie — and immediately she groaned,
saying "Oh no!" — and went on for quite a while about how bad South Park was. Finally I
said "hey, it's just a job... they give us the music and we play it... I've done many others too,
as well as all types of orchestral and opera concerts!" Patsy agreed not to "brand" me on the
island with having worked on South Park, and talk soon moved on to Jerry Springer and
why people would ever wish to be on such a show (though it's shown on the island, and
plenty of people watch it) — but St. Helena is St. Helena, and it's impossible to keep a secret
here. Though only Patsy and Joy were in the kitchen with me that evening, it soon seemed
that everyone on St. Helena knew I had worked on the South Park movie... when I met Joy
Lawrence (at Radio St. Helena) for the first time a few days later, one of the first things out
of her mouth was "I heard you played on the South Park movie!" — and the news even made
it to Mike, who brought it up while I was co-hosting the Classical Hour with him. Not being
from small town America (which I've heard can be quite similar), all this was fascinating to
me — but I suppose it's inevitable when you have a small, isolated population (under 5,000)
where everyone knows each other and must live together. The news/gossip circuit can also
work in one's favor though: when Kevin and Cel were in the midst of speaking to local
officials about moving to the island and setting up a farm, they were frustrated at not being
given exact figures for the things required of them... finally, Kevin decided to mention his
frustration while having a drink at the Consulate Hotel, and before he knew it, his
dissatisfaction had made the rounds, as the officials soon approached him with the exact
figures, asking if it was satisfactory.
As I hadn't visited the police to register for driving on the island yet, Larry wound up
driving us into town (down Ladder Hill Road) for dinner. Though I had originally planned to
take care of everything tomorrow morning, Larry said to give it a shot tonight, so we parked
the car by the police station (located at the Castle), and I was indeed able to register
(basically just by showing my license from home and having them jot the information down
— no fee required).
From the police, we headed to Donny's for a very good cheeseburger and chips (fries),
sitting outside and enjoying the evening. It was a busy place, and quite a few RMS
passengers (including my bunkmate Howard) as well as locals were having a bite to eat.
Seeing Jacob's Ladder lit up at night, I asked about it, and was told that the lights
were just recently put in, though they're not usually turned on unless the RMS (or another
ship) is in port. Walking along Main Street, I ran into Tony... he had been the head waiter
on the RMS, but would be taking his vacation now on the island, as the other head waiter
Tubby would take his place for the rest of my sailings.
While eating, I heard a siren go off (3 tones)... I was told it was for the fire
department, and that the 3 tones meant there was a fire somewhere. Sure enough, the next
day there was news about a fire (and this evening on the radio was a report that earlier in
the day there had been a fire at Ladder Hill when someone left their stove on).
At 10:00pm we drove back up Ladder Hill Road and returned to the house. After
talking for a while, I went into the bedroom to write in my journal for a bit, feeling better
now that my knee seemed back to normal. Before going to sleep, I tried to tune into Radio
St. Helena, but the station had already shut down for the day (in the end, I wasn't able to
listen to them as much as I would have liked, as the car had no working radio, and my
attempt to listen on my portable unit in the car was only semi-successful).
Jan. 6: St. Helena [Charabanc Tour]
Having gone to sleep at 11:45pm last night, I seemed to sleep for only a few hours
before the sound of a rooster woke me up early in the morning. This rooster was to be the
bane of my existance on the island, as every morning without fail it would begin making
noise between 3:20am and 4:00am, and wouldn't stop until hours later. Through no fault of
Larry or Joy's (it belonged to the house behind them), it meant that I hardly had any sleep
for the week, and was aggrivating enough to where Kevin and Cel only half-jokingly
suggested I should make an offer to buy and kill it (and if not that one, I should at least find
another rooster to take my frustrations out on). Nothing I did seemed to help: the ear plugs
which worked so well on the ship were useless against a rooster, as was listening to radio
static through ear buds. There were plenty of other roosters wandering around the area
that could faintly be heard, but the one loud one was right behind the house, and its
extremely early wake-up call was piercingly clear.
Finally getting out of bed to take a shower (I never could figure out how to get the
right temperature from the manual water heater box — it seemed to fluctuate no matter
where it was set), I sat with Joy over breakfast. Though the accomodation arrangement was
just for the room (with me supplying my own food), Joy always seemed to make meals for me
when I was around, and sometimes even prepared packed lunches for when I'd be out. Not
wanting to take too much that morning, I had a slice of toast and some orange juice.
Watching the TV in the kitchen, I learned that television was only recently introduced on the
island...
Though St. Helena has had videos for many years (with most islanders owning a TV
and VCR), actual television service on the island has only been around for about three years.
Originally there were two stations: M-Net and Super Sport from South Africa, but a third
(alternating between various channels ranging from Discovery to the news) was added, and
as of May 2001, there are now three channels plus Discovery. Before I arrived on the island,
a survey was conducted asking islanders if they preferred CNN or the BBC for their news...
and as a result, the news feed would soon be switching over from CNN to the BBC (later that
morning, Colin the Charabanc driver pointed out the new satellite dish at Cable & Wireless
which would be used to receive the BBC). Besides providing telephone and internet for the
island, Cable & Wireless also provides television service — but it isn't cheap for what you get
(though the island seems to be hooked on it, especially with shows such as Jerry Springer).
One thing missing however, was a local TV channel: though I suppose not too much
happens on St. Helena in any given day (and what does happen can easily be covered on the
radio), I think it would be nice to have a short daily broadcast to show everything from a
concert in town to a sporting event to the local news, if only for 15 minutes each night.
When I mentioned this idea to Larry later in the week, he told me the Governor had also
commented on such an idea just a few days earlier while at the Scout camp... but everytime
I brought up the idea, people either didn't seem interested, or didn't think it would happen
anytime soon.
Walking outside onto the porch, a flock of pigeons showed up... as I left and returned
a bit later, they all flew down again, and Larry told me they come every morning, as he
usually throws out a bit of food and they're well-trained at expecting it.
Joy commented that now that the RMS had arrived, she'll want to go to the store and
buy some fresh fruit in a few days (once everything has had a chance to be offloaded and
put up onto the shelves), as with little fruit grown on the island, most of it needs to be
imported from South Africa. St. Helena does have a surprising choice of markets however,
with many having small brances in various parts of the island: probably the largest is the
Jamestown Spar (associated with the large supermarket chain found in Britain and South
Africa — though actually managed on the island by Solomon's). The Spar (whose name is
still relatively new on the island) has a second location up in Half Tree Hollow as well,
complete with a petrol station. The part government-owned, part private Solomon's (which
operates all types of stores and businesses on the island from its own hardware and
souvenir shops to running the Spars and being the local shipping agent for Curnow) has its
own supermarkets too, found throughout St. Helena (the Longwood branch of Solomon's has
petrol). Competing with Solomon's are some family-run stores, including C&M's (with a
smaller branch up in Half Tree Hollow), Thorpe's, and others. Even with the high cost of
bringing food to the island, I was surprised to find prices similar to what they'd be at home
— the reason for this is that a good portion of the food comes from South Africa, where the
rand is very weak against the pound (at the time, one pound would buy about 11 rands).
Some of the food does come from the UK, though it's still quite reasonable (my favorite little
orange "Club" bars could be found at the Spar for 20p/30c). Asking later in some of the
stores how long it takes for the food to get from the ship to the shelves, most replies were
"about a week", though the lady at the Jamestown Spar mentioned that their shipment this
time would be relatively small, but in 6 weeks they'd receive a much larger shipment.
After breakfast, Larry drove me down into town after dropping Joy off for work at the
Hospital... I asked Larry to drive down this morning because I wanted to get used to the
roads a bit more before attempting them myself in a stickshift car — and as I'd be on an all-
day island tour, I offered Larry the use of the Ford for the day.
One of the things to do on St. Helena is to take a tour of the island in an old open-top
1920s Charabanc. Though I hadn't originally planned on doing this (as I had purchased two
Magma tours for Tuesday and Wednesday already), I was talked into it by Kevin and Cel —
though in the end I was quite glad I went.
Since the Charabanc wouldn't leave until 9:00am, I had a chance to run into the
Tourist Office to grab some brochures (while inside, I overheard the staff lady tell a tourist
inquiring about a rental car "ooh... that might be hard... I believe they're all out...") In the
office, I picked up the free Tourist Map of Jamestown (nicely done, with details on some of
the various buildings and their history), and on display were three beautiful smaller-sized
posters of St. Helena. When I asked if they were available for purchase, the lady replied they
were free, but she only had extras of one style left, saying that perhaps once the new fiscal
year begins on April 1st, they might have the budget to print some more. The one left wasn't
the best of the three, but I still gladly accepted it, giving it later to Russell and Judith in
Cape Town.
Jamestown is nestled in a valley between two large cliffs, and is quite small and
compact. Looking at it from the water, Ruperts Bay, customs, and the large olympic-sized
swimming pool are to your left, and Donny's is to your right. Entering the main town (by
going under an archway), the Castle (government offices, the bank, council chambers,
courthouse, police station, library, and Ann's Place restaurant in the Castle Gardens) are on
the left, with a tourist shop/mini store, St. James Church, the prison, and Jacob's Ladder to
your right. A bit further up are the colorful old buildings of central Main Street: Solomon's
Shipping Office and the Consulate Hotel on the left, and the St. Helena Development
Agency, C&M's, Solomon's Hardware, the video rental shop, the post office, and the Spar on
the right (this is by no means a complete list). The Tourist Office is located in the center of
Main Street as it forks into Market Street (heading right) and Napoleon Street (heading left),
with Market being the continuation of the main road. Just beyond this intersection up on
Market Street is the clock tower, the Market Building (market space, an office, and Joan's
Bistro upstairs), a bar, and Thorpe's grocery on the right, with some various shops on the
left (including Solomon's Souvenir, Pat Musk's shop, and the London Gift Shop). Continuing
even further up Market Street, you come to the schools on the left (a first and middle school
in the same compound, with a shared play area in the center) before reaching the Salvation
Army and the 7th Day Adventist Church (there is a Salvation Army branch up in Half Tree
Hollow also — as well as a Jehovas Witness building). A bit further up is the Baptist
Church (where I would give a mini-concert for the kids on Thursday) and Dillon's (a bar with
dancing) on the right. Further on, you come to the turnoff for Ladder Hill Road on your
right (though note that China Lane — which you approach first — is for one-way traffic
coming off of Ladder Hill Road, with the one-way entrance for Ladder Hill on the next street).
Up at the top of Market Street is also the Catholic Church, St. John's Church, and the
Hospital (which, like the Tourist Office, is located in the center of a street which splits off
into two smaller ones). Along the way are some beautiful old buildings, and further up past
Dillion's are some nicely-kept up apartments.
Having only a little time this morning before the start of the tour, I just looked
around the central Main Street area by the Consulate Hotel and post office. During the
week, most businesses in town don't open until 9:00am (the post office and the Spar open at
8:30am), and with today being a Saturday morning, not too much was open even though the
town was filled with locals walking about.
At 9:00am it was time for the Charabanc tour, and a large group of us piled into the
old green car. It was probably the best weather for an open-top tour of this type: overcast
but warm with no rain. Pat & Morris didn't come along (they were off seeing old friends),
but Pat/SA was here for her one day on the island (before hopping aboard the RMS to sail to
Ascension), as well as James. Colin is both the driver and owner of the car, and a pleasant
fellow to have as a tour guide (his daughter Tracy who lives close to the Consulate Hotel
with her son, helps out with the tour by preparing and delivering lunch for the passengers).
For £12/US$18, you're given an all-day tour covering many of the island's important sites,
complete with a lunch stop at the golf course.
The first stop we made was at the Briars, an area nestled in the hills above
Jamestown with a good view of the city below. Here, we visited the house where Napoleon
first stayed while exiled on the island — and while the house remains, the area is better
known today as the spot where Cable & Wireless is located (the satellite dishes are here too).
On display in the house are plenty of items related to Napoleon, including some of his letters
(or copies of them, I'm not sure as no one was around to ask). In the area an old man was
tending a small plot of vegetables, and the nearby trees were filled with small, black noisy
Indian minor birds. Besides the Indian minors, plenty of other birds populate the island,
including some small canary-like ones (both red and yellow) as well as the wirebird, St.
Helena's native bird.
From Briars, we drove onto Napoleon's grave (passing Mike, who stays up in the
Briars area), where we stopped off the side of the road to take the short walk (about 10
minutes) down a gentle grassy slope to the site (I couldn't understand why some of the other
tourists thought it was such an ordeal to walk there and back... it really wasn't that far or
steep — though at 83, James stayed in the car). Though Napoleon's body was removed from
his grave and sent back to France years ago, the site remains, with a grave, a shed, and a
flagpole (presumably for the French flag) overlooking a nice patch of the island's green
interior. The path down to the site is shaded by plenty of pine and eucalyptus trees, and
having to go to the bathroom with no loo in sight, I decided to make my own "water-loo" off
in the trees on the way back. While waiting for the others to return to the Charabanc, one
of the other tourists mentioned a Millennium Forest project where anyone could donate
£1/US$1.50 and plant a tree with their name on it. It sounded like a good idea and
something I wanted to do, but I never did get around to finding the correct person to speak
to about it (though at the end of my trip, I did stumble upon the site).
While driving, Colin mentioned there are now about 2,600 cars on the island... and
while the fire department used to be staffed on a volunteer basis, it's now a full-time,
regular-paying job (while walking later in the day, I came across a notice for firefighters
wanted [male or female] on a community notice board, as well as an opening for deputy fire
chief being advertised).
From Napoleon's grave, we drove to Longwood, a large settlement on the eastern
interior of the island where the land is a bit flatter, the homes a bit nicer, and there's a nice,
pleasant feel to the whole area. We soon stopped at Longwood House, the site where
Napoleon lived for most of his stay on the island, eventually dying here after 6 years. Like
the gravesite, the house is considered French property, and a French council lives here to
maintain the grounds. Out front is a nice lawn and garden with the French flag flying, and
inside, the house has been converted into a museum (free admission). Though much of
Longwood house has been rebuilt due to disrepair over the years, it's still an interesting
place to visit, filled with various Napoleon memorabilia from documents and letters to a
replica of his tiny bathtub.
As interesting as Longwood House is though, I wasn't as interested in Napoleon as
some of the others on the tour were, so while they were off spending more time inside the
house, I decided to leave and check out the community of Longwood. Asking Colin if I could
walk around for a while, he said sure... and if I came back and the Charabanc wasn't
around, just keep walking and head for the golf course, as they'd be heading there for lunch
next.
Because Longwood is one of the few areas on the island where there's some flat land,
I began to feel almost as if I wasn't on St. Helena anymore — until everyone I passed warmly
greeted me with a wave or a hello. The greetings don't just come from people passing you by
on the street, but from those working in their yard or driving by as well (while driving, it's
customary to wave or acknowledge the people you pass, whether they be drivers in other
cars or pedestrians on the street). Though most people on the island obviously didn't know
who I was, many still waved to me while passing — and those who initially didn't would
immediately respond with a wave as soon as I waved to them.
Walking down the lovely main street towards the entrance to the Longwood area, I
met three boys (probably 10-13 years old) busy throwing down a can of food as hard as they
could to see if it would break open (I guess there's not too much to do on a Saturday
morning). Coming up to say hello to me, one of the kids looked at my Casio calculator/data
bank watch and said he wanted one just like it, while a (white) boy volunteered that he had
just moved to the island from the Falklands, and is living here now.
After a pleasant stroll down the main street, I turned around to head back to
Longwood House, running into Peter at the local Solomon's grocery (this location has a
petrol station). Talking for a bit inside, I bought a small orange Club bar (20p/30c) and a
telephone card for £2/US$3 (local calls on the island cost only 10p/15c, but overseas calls
will eat through a card [in 50p increments] very quickly).
Continuing on to the golf course, I passed the Longwood First School, and stopped to
talk to a lady standing out on her lawn nearby. In her 60s and a widow, she was quite nice
and eager to talk to me about various things, including the need for an airport. She
mentioned that once when some people had lockjaw, an airplane managed to drop some
supplies onto Deadwood Plain, but by then it was too late for one of them... there's definitely
a medical need for an airport, as when someone gets seriously sick, there are very few
options (not long ago, I heard about a young girl with leukemia who needed to go to Cape
Town for treatment — with a Maersk container vessel having to go out of its way to pick her
up and bring her back to Cape Town).
Contiuing my walk back to the golf course, I passed a home for the
retarded/disabled, as well as a new senior home being built... and soon I was with the rest
of the group again, eating lunch on the benches outside the golf course (Colin's daughter
Tracy had brought the lunch: delicious pilau, fish cakes, and soda). When finished, I took
another walk past the golf course while the rest of the group relaxed...
The golf course is anything but green: when I was there that day, it was a large
expanse of dry, brown grass — but the dry grass is also what the island's native wirebird
likes, and this bird (found only on St. Helena) can often be seen on the golf course (though
the only birds I saw here today were the colorful red or yellow canary types). While the golf
course is listed as 18 holes, there are really only 9 (with the last 9 acheived by playing the
first 9 from the other direction). Out on the course was a donkey helping a man do some
work, and I realized it's not often that one gets a chance to see a donkey out on a golf
course. Both Mike and the Governor like to play here, but I never did have a chance to try a
game myself.
Coming to the end of the course, I went a bit further before turning around to meet
up with the group again — who by now was busy talking to the old lady who lives at the golf
course and handles the keys for the place. She was about to have her 85th birthday next
week, and mentioned that while she's on welfare, she earns a bit of money watching over the
course. Talking about health, she said the major problems on the island are high
incidences of cancer, diabitis, and high blood pressure... and commenting on how hard it is
to find work on St. Helena, she told us her son (who lives with her) was able to find work for
only 3 days this past week (the island has something of a "work-fare" program, where, if you
receive money from the government, you're to go out 3 days a week and work for it. Mostly
this entails simple jobs such as cutting away the flax, but it does help to boost the statistical
number of people who are employed).
After saying goodbye to the lady at the golf course, we continued on the tour as I
asked Colin what people do in the evenings here... he answered that there used to be a
cinema, but it closed down once videos came to the island... still, there are some local
dances, games of skittles, pubs to visit (the Charabanc also does an evening country pub-
hopping tour), and many parts of the island have small community centres where events
can be scheduled.
Driving along in the Charabanc, we could see New Zealand flax all over the place...
left over from the days when it was cultivated as a crop, the plant has been allowed to grow
wild, and now covers a good portion of the island. Efforts are now being made to get rid of
it, but it must be done carefully or soil erosion will occur. Seeing hillside after hillside
covered in flax, I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if the hills were covered in a
more valuable crop instead, such as sugar cane. St. Helena's climate is warm and humid,
and I couldn't understand why no one has tried to plant sugar cane (or other such crops) in
place of the flax.
Passing the Levelwood First School, Colin pointed out that it had recently closed —
as had a few other schools, due to the declining number of students and children on the
island. The kids must now be bussed to other schools, and for some it's not an easy trip:
Colin mentioned that there were only 8-9 school buses for the entire island, and the ride
each morning could be as long as 2 hours (with school starting at 9:00am), though for high
school kids living in Jamestown, the bus ride out to Prince Andrew School is only about 20
minutes (as I found out from Tracy and her son later that evening).
Stopping at Silver Hill for a break, we all took a stretch and a look around. There
was a small Solomon's here, so I walked inside to buy yet another 20p/30c orange Club bar,
noticing a sign on the door saying "Birthday cakes must be ordered 5 days in advance." As
well, there were notices posted with pictures and names of people who were not allowed to
buy liquor (each person had their own sheet)... when I asked the cashier about it, she told
me it's part of the punishment for getting into trouble (causing an accident, having a fight,
etc.) — and the period of being banned from buying alcohol is usually for a year. In front of
the store overlooking the valley were three nice locals and their dog, just hanging around
having a drink... and we all talked for a while before heading on our way.
Continuing on the tour, we passed the Sandy Bay Clinic, and as I had heard that
some people try to grow marijuana secretly on the island, asked Colin about it... he said that
recently a 69yr-old man was caught growing the stuff, but because of his age, he was placed
on probation instead of being sent to jail (if not for his age though, he most likely would
have been sent to prison).
Soon we reached Plantation House, the historic mansion where the appointed British
Governor stays while on the island. Though not allowed inside the house (tours have to be
arranged in advance, and I missed the only one scheduled), we were allowed on the grounds
— and there on the large grassy lawn of the mansion I met its most famous resident,
Jonathan the tortoise. Jonathan is thought to be close to 200 years old (the most recent
study placed him between 175-200 years), and there were also 5 younger tortoises sharing
the grounds with Jonathan. While having a look at the friendly fellow, Colin came over and
managed to make him come out of his shell and rise up on his legs for a bit... though slow,
the tortoises are quite smart — and Colin said at night they all return on their own to their
little sleeping area off to the side of the grounds.
Having a look around, I noticed a domestic worker walking up and entering the gate
to the house. Stopping to ask if anyone like the Governor was home, she replied "yes, but
he'd be sleeping about now" (it was 2:30pm). The current Governor is David Hollamby, and
while the islanders unanimously hated his wife, they seemed to give him mixed reviews...
some didn't like the policies he was implementing, while others thought he was ok (though
not as beloved as some previous Governors), and Colin mentioned that the Governor had
given a speech recently which had made people quite angry, but not having heard it himself,
didn't know the exact details. In the end, I wound up spending a lot of time with the
Governor and his wife aboard the RMS, and while I don't know enough about his policies to
comment on them, he personally seemed like a nice enough fellow.
With the end of the tour approaching, we drove through Half Tree Hollow... here I
asked Colin if I could get out in order to climb down Jacob's Ladder, as I wanted my first
time on the staircase to be in a downward direction. Stopping for a few minutes at the top,
Kevin and Cel took my picture, after which James climbed down 3 or 4 steps to pose for a
shot himself (saying he'd tell his friends back at the retirement home that he climbed up it
everyday). At 699 steps (with each being approximately 11 inches high), Jacob's Ladder is
almost 700 feet from top to bottom, but it's not as bad as it sounds if you're used to it. As I
started my descent, the group stayed at the top for a few moments to take a picture of me
heading down. There are some spectacular views of both Jamestown and James Bay from
the Ladder, and it's something definitely worth doing at least once (I enjoyed it so much, I
wound up going up and down it a number of times — including once going up at night).
From the top, I thought about trying to slide down the Ladder as some kids do (a few people
told me how to do it) — but seeing how steep it actually was, I decided not to take any
chances (had St. Helena been the end of my vacation I might have tried it, but with most of
my trip still to come, the last thing I wanted was a broken leg). The proceedure is simple
enough: lie down on your back, prop one foot on top of the opposite rail, and use your other
foot as a brake against it when needed. The hardest part though, is knowing when to let go
with your hands (necessary every few feet in order to pass the poles supporting the rails).
While walking down is much faster than climbing up, it still takes a while to descend 700ft...
walking down fast without running takes about 5 minutes.
Down at the bottom I ran into the group, who said they stayed on top for a few
minutes to watch me walk down. Earlier in the morning, I had arranged to meet Larry at
3:00pm (the time Colin said we'd be finished), but looking around Jamestown at 3:30pm
now, I couldn't find him anywhere. I didn't actually need to see him for anything, but just
wanted to let him know he could use the car for the rest of the day. Not seeing him, I began
to walk around town (my original plan), though I finally ran into him at 4:30pm (luckily he
had only been looking for me for 10 minutes).
With it being a Saturday afternoon, most shops and businesses closed at 1:00pm and
wouldn't re-open again until 6:30pm (for some reason the Spar remained open until 4:00pm
and re-opened at 6:30pm — I could never understand why they closed for just 2.5 hours).
Thorpe's Grocery had the right idea however, and recently became the only store to stay
open all day on Saturday, from 9am-8pm.
In a store window, I noticed a sign for a dance going on tonight... the "12th Day of
Xmas Dance" over at Dillion's (£1 admission, to help support the Ladies Orchestra) starting
at 9:00pm, as the stores close at 8:30pm. Today was indeed the 12th day of Christmas, and
the seasonal lights and decorations were still up over Jamestown (though they'd be taken
down shortly).
With most places closed, most of the group went to relax at Anns Place (a partially-
covered restaurant in the beautiful Castle Gardens). With limited supplies, St. Helenans
must be inventive, and the restaurant's large flourscent sign was actually a Philips sign
(complete with blue logo), modified to read "Ann's Place" instead of "Philips." Sitting outside,
we all chatted and relaxed as I ordered an ice-cream and Bitter Lemon (with plenty of bees
buzzing around the glasses). Ann (the owner) is an older, eccentric lady whose temperment
can range from extremely nice to obstinant, and her daughter helps out at the restaurant as
well, with the grandkids often around to play and talk with the customers. Today while
buying a telephone card from her, I mentioned that I collect them — after which she gave me
a used one she had set aside in a tin, and told me if any other used ones come in, she'd save
them for me. This was a perfect example of Saint hospitality, and another one was this
morning at the Tourist Office: when the lady there mentioned the possibility of reprinting
some of the other posters, Larry immediately volunteered to send me one if they were
reprinted.
After the ice-cream I went for a walk around Jamestown... Passing the St. Helena
Growers Co-operative Society, I noticed a sign on the Salvation Army's window mentioning
that the thrift store would be closed from 21 Dec - 19 Jan. On my left, I soon came to the
first and middle schools (which share the same compound with a playground between the
two)... though it was a holiday period, the gate was open, so I walked in to have a look.
Outside, the two-story buildings (with a 1988 date on the middle school) didn't look like
anything special, but behind the windows were nice bright classrooms filled with signs, art,
and children's works... and there appeared to be a good-sized library as well.
Further up the road is the Catholic Church and the Hospital, which I briefly entered
for a quick look. Inside, I spoke with a lady at the front desk for a few minutes, finding out
that there are currently 3 doctors at the Hospital (1 from the UK and 2 from South Africa),
and if you are St. Helenan (or a resident of the British Commonwealth), it's free to see a
doctor, with just a small charge for prescriptions. The Hospital is open 24hrs, and outside
in the same compound is the outpatient building and the dentist's office.
In the window of John's Store down the road were kid's plastic backpacks, going for
£3.85-£4.95/US$5.78-US$7.43 (as is the case in Britain, the prices already include the
VAT), and walking back to the Market Building, I made an overseas call from a nearby
phone booth (using up £1.50 of a £2 phone card extremely fast), before joining Colin and an
older taxi driver for a chat by the taxi rank: Solomon's, the large outfit that operates
multiple stores of all types (supermarkets, hardware stores, souvenir shops, the Shipping
Office) had been a family-run business until last year, when the government bought 84% of
the shares — though shares are now being offered back to islanders for £2/US$3 each so
that locals can own a piece of their future, as a large percentage of the island's business
goes through Solomon's one way or another... as talk turned to politics, I was told that when
Prince Andrew came to visit a while back (for only two days), he helped arrange funding for
the new senior school, but during his speech apparently asked that it bear his name... I was
told that the UK Government cut the island's budget for the next fiscal year (starting April
1): the story I heard today was that when the Councilors protested, the Governor said
"accept it or we'll just shut everything down — electricity, medical services, etc." — so the
Councilors caved in without much choice. Both men went on to say that the Councilors
won't go against the Governor because they're paid by the UK Government, and are afraid
that if they disagree, they'll be fired — and even if all 12 agree on something, the Governor
can just veto it by himself. But later while on board the RMS, the Governor gave quite a
different version, as he mentioned that he made a concerted effort to have the Councilors
take part in every step of the budget process (something that had not been done before), and
they were apparently quite pleased to be able to do so. Whichever version is true (perhaps
something in between), budget and funding issues are as much of a sore point with many
Saints as the citizenship issue.
After a while I headed towards the water to meet the group at Donny's, but as it was
now 6:30pm, the library at the Castle had re-opened — so I decided to have a quick look
inside. Outside the open door, the birds in the trees were incredibly noisy (not the most
appropriate place for noise!) but inside was a nice, quiet library with rows of books (mostly
older ones, along with a few new reference volumes), with both hardcover aisles and racks of
softcover books (visitors are allowed to check out books with a refundable deposit). When I
asked the librarian where the books came from, she said they have a yearly budget from
which they send away for books, but others are donated by visitors as well as locals.
Walking down to meet the group at Donny's, we confirmed that we'd meet later at
8:00pm for dinner in the Market Building. As the stores in town were now open again, I
returned back to look inside some of them... in Solomon's Hardware, a large touch-control
microwave was selling for £169.95/US$254.93... a 340ml can of soda was 27p/41c... at The
Emporium, I bought a small South African notepad (to scribble down notes into) for
62p/93c... the video rental store had plenty of videos on the shelves for 50p/75c a night (the
ones here were all legitimate copies, though other shops in town including Rose & Crown
and the London Gift Shop had home-copied videos off British TV as well)... in Solomon's
Souvenir Shop I bought a tiny 1/2-size folding pen, but the polo shirt I wanted they had
only in XL. The store did have Eric George's "Music on St. Helena" book, but was sold out
(as was everyone else) of Eric's other book of St. Helena songs.
Dinner with the group that evening was at Joan's Bistro upstairs in the Market
Building... the cafe used to be called "Dot's", but due to her health, Dot retired, and Joan
(who used to work on the RMS) took over. While walking into the building, I noticed a group
of musicians setting up outside and asked who they were... it was the Salvation Army Band,
and they were getting ready to give a concert right there on the street corner. As I knew I
wouldn't have a chance to hear any of the island's other musical groups, I stood and
watched for a while (running in just to order dinner) as they played some tunes between
their leader speaking softly with a bullhorn. The brass band was small (perhaps 12
members?), and while not exceptional, they weren't bad either.
While everyone was upstairs waiting to be served, I made a quick run to the Spar to
pick up some groceries, and was once again surprised at the reasonable prices on the
island: a small tube of AquaFresh toothpaste was 45p/68c... a large tube of CloseUp
toothpaste was 79p/US$1.19... and tonight, I wound up buying an 8pk of mini Kellogs
cereals (£2.69/US$4.04), the next-to-last 4pk of yoghurt (which indicated "no refrigeration
necessary" but was in the cold area nonetheless — £1.12/US$1.68), 3 granny smith apples
(16p/24c each), a large roll of ginger snaps (89p/US$1.34), and a mini orange Club bar
(20p/30c) — as well as a copy of the St. Helena News (available every Friday, 15p). Inside
the store, only one register accepts Visa (something I didn't know while waiting in line at the
other one), and no one's in a hurry to do anything. Spar is the only business on the island
that adds no surcharge if you use credit cards, even though like everyone else, they go
through Barclay's Bank (as an interesting sidenote, when I returned home and received my
Visa statement, the charges from the Jamestown Spar were listed as coming from the
"South Georgia Museum, Falkland Islands, FK."
On the way back to the restaurant, I stepped into a store for a quick look, and
found one M-sized St. Helena polo shirt left... the normal price was £10/US$15, but because
there was a little thread coming off of it, the lady at the store voluntarily lowered the price to
£9.50/US$14.25 without me even asking.
Back inside Joan's, dinner was ready, and I sat down with Kevin, Cel, James, and
Inga (the loud Dutch writer) for some tasty St. Helena cusine: two delicious fishcakes, chips
(fries), and cole slaw for £1.80/US$2.70, with a drink being 30p/45c more. While eating,
Tracy came in to finalize plans for tomorrow night's country pub tour with Inga, and we
talked for a while... though she's never left St. Helena (she looked to be in her 30s), she was
planning on taking a short holiday to Cape Town soon... when I commented that I had
wanted to send some email earlier, Tracy mentioned that she offers internet access from her
house (near the Consulate Hotel), and to drop by anytime I wanted to use it (she charges
15p/min, but must go through Cable & Wiresless for the connection, which charges
everyone 10p/min for access, though they just announced a new weekend-only rate of
5p/min)... when I asked what the average wage for someone like a cashier was on the
island, she replied that the wage is calculated per day rather than per hour, and for
someone like a Spar cashier, it would be around £6-£8/US$9-$12 per day (for a 9-5 day
with a 1-hour lunch).
As I had left the car with Larry to use for the day, I was given a lift back to Half Tree
Hollow with Kevin and Cel, who were staying at a fancier self-catering flat just down the
road from me. With Cel driving (as Kevin was still using his crutch), we chugged up the hill
in their rented South African VW "Citi" hatchback.
One thing about Half Tree Hollow: if you're walking up from Jamestown (either by the
road or by Jacob's Ladder), once you reach the top of the cliff, you still have a ways to go to
get to where most of the houses are — and it's uphill all the way (for me it wasn't the walk
up the stairs that was tiring as much as continuing to walk uphill from the top of the Ladder
to where Larry & Joy live). Kevin & Cel were staying with the Flaggs, who have a nice
separated double-house (they rent out the right side of it on a self-catering basis) located
about 2/3rds of the way up betwen the top of the Ladder and where I was staying.
Returning to Larry & Joy's around 9:30pm, I went to my room to relax and write in
my journal until 11:00pm.
Some misc. information: water on the island is from ground springs, and not
desalinated (years ago there was a desalinization plant at Rupert's Bay, but it hasn't been
used in ages, though part of the old building still stands)... the sheep on the island aren't
raised for wool, but rather for meat (the wool is just thrown out)... there are new Cable &
Wireless telephone booths scattered throughout the island. Always in good condition, they
accept both cards and coins (cel phones haven't made it to St. Helena yet). There is an LCD
display which shows how much each unit will cost for the type of call you're making, how
much time is left (ticking down) before another unit's worth is deducted from your card, and
how much total time is left on the card at the current rate (there are also buttons on the
phones for things such as "New Call" and "Redial")... school would begin again next week
after the RMS has left for Cape Town... alcoholism is one of the island's big problems, and
up on the wall of the police station was a notice with the number of an alcohol abuse line... I
noticed a few ham antennas around, but not as many as I would have thought (there was
one or two in Half Tree Hollow)... up on the Ladder Hill Road side of the cliff was some
letters reading "We Welcome You Prince Andrew" (the Prince visited the island some years
back)... throughout the city you'll see small little "H" signs posted up on the walls in various
locations. At first I wasn't quite sure what they were, but my initial guess proved to be
correct: it stands for Hydrant, and is an indicator of a hydrant's location (though they must
be hidden or under a manhole cover, as there certainly weren't any hydrants in plain view)...
and finally if the rooster wasn't bad enough, there was a battery-operated wall clock hanging
in my bedroom at Larry & Joy's, ticking away — so each night I'd remove the battery (to
silence the noise) and insert it again in the morning, re-setting the time.
Jan. 7: St. Helena [Scout Camp]
Today the rooster started at 3:54am and continued throughout the morning (I could
hear that Larry was up from it as well, though he was able to go back to sleep). Over
breakfast Joy said the rooster (in a cage behind my window) belonged to the neighbor... but
they were used to it and I wasn't.
Talking about other things, Joy told me she gets fresh eggs from a man living in
Sandy Bay who comes by every week... and for fish, there's a truck which drives around the
island selling fresh fish. People on St. Helena are paid with cash rather than checks, but if
anyone wants to put some money aside they can open a passbook account at the Castle,
where the government has its offices and the island's banking is done. St. Helena generally
operates on a cash economy, and Joy mentioned that the few merchants which accept credit
cards only started doing so recently — though they were eager to set the system up, as in
the past, tourists would come to the island and find they didn't have enough money to buy
things or call home (with the occupants of the many visiting yachts often not having British
pounds on them).
During the day yesterday my suntan lotion turned to watery liquid... telling Kevin
about it, he suggested placing it in a refrigerator overnight to re-congeal (which I did) — but
as I removed it from Joy's refrigerator this morning, all that awaited me was cold, runny
liquid (I continued to use it throughout the trip though, as it still seemed to work). At
9:22am I heard the RMS' A-major whistle, indicating that it was ready to set sail for
Ascension... though you can't see the ship from Half Tree Hollow while it's anchored, there's
a nice view of it sailing away or arriving.
Today was Sunday — parent's day at the Scout camp, when parents were invited out
to Thompson's Wood to have a picnic and be with their kids. As Scoutmaster, Larry had left
the week-long camp for two days in order to meet me (leaving someone else in charge), but
would return today and stay through Wednesday when camp was to finish with a planned
march through the streets of Jamestown. Joy was going to go for the day as well, and both
invited me to come with them (Larry was especially looking forward to seeing the kids'
reactions when he showed up — for as a joke, he had told them he was sailing to Ascension
on the RMS). With the bus to the Scout camp not scheduled to come by until 10:30am
though, I first had time for a short walk around Half Tree Hollow.
Walking uphill, I passed the HTH branches of Spar and C&M's, as well as the local
clinic and the Salvation Army. The Spar up here has a petrol station (at 51p/77c a litre —
£1.93/US$2.90 a US Gallon), though being a Sunday, just about everything was closed.
Next to the Spar is a public toilet, and though clean, there wasn't any toilet paper inside
(luckily I always keep a bit in my daypack). Continuing up past the Spar to the left was a
row of nicer homes, quite a bit fancier than the others in the area... at the end of this street
was just a pile of dirt and rock, but from the edge was a great view of the valley below — and
while walking back, people constantly greeted me "good morning."
At 10:05am I heard the RMS toot again, and a few minutes later, could see it
departing for Ascension. For just a moment I realized what it must be like to live on St.
Helena... for as I watched the RMS sail away, I knew that there was now no way to leave this
island until the RMS returned next week — and if it were to be delayed, I'd simply have to
wait until it finally did return. While walking back to Larry & Joy's, Michelle (whom I played
Scrabble against on board the RMS) drove past in her car... recognizing me, she waved hello
and tooted.
Back at the house at 10:25am, I met Larry's granddaughter Candice, who would be
joining us on the outing. While waiting, the subject of language and the St. Helena accent
came up, with Larry mentioning that visitors often have difficulty understanding Saints
when they speak. Peter (the South African journalist) later compared two Saints talking
together to two people speaking a foreign language — but it's really not that bad, and if you
actually pay attention to the conversation (instead of just hearing it as background noise),
it's easy to understand.
At 10:45am a small bus came by and the four of us piled in, joining the many other
people on board headed out to the Scout camp. Everyone else knew each other of course,
but Larry and Joy introduced me to them all, and everyone was extremely friendly (with
most toting around plenty of food for the picnic).
After stopping along the way to pick up more people we finally arrived at Thompson's
Wood, a nice area of flat pasture surrounded by rolling green hills in the west-central part of
the island. The area is used for cattle grazing much of the time, but doubles as a
campground during holiday periods when the cattle are moved to the surrounding hillsides
to graze (there's a block of toilets and showers for campers here).
As the weather was overcast and cool, the first thing we did was put up a tarp to
have lunch under later (tying it to our bus, a nearby tree, and some stakes in the ground).
Though the weather was cloudy, it didn't turn bad until the late afternoon and didn't seem
to dampen anyone's spirits. After the tarp was up, Larry took me to meet the kids (who
indeed were surprised to see him, saying "hey, you said you were going to Ascension!") and
show me around the large mess tent where everyone ate their meals. The camp was for
Scouts of all ages (no Girl Guides), and with plenty of people around (arriving not only in the
buses but in their own cars as well) it looked like a good turnout — though Larry
commented that there weren't as many as usual, perhaps due to the RMS having just been
in port.
As I relaxed under the tarp, the ladies began taking out the food they brought with
them and setting it out on the table for everyone to share. There was tons of it, all delicious:
homemade stews, curry, chicken, pork, rice, potatoes — you name it, as well as plenty of
sodas, snacks, and desserts. Along with everything else I tried a bit of the British dish of
spicy rice served inside animal gut (something I hadn't tried before), and had a wonderful,
filling lunch. Besides the main meal, people also passed around simple bread-and-tomato-
paste sandwiches, which the Saints call "Bread and Dance", as they're always served at
dances.
Sitting down on the grass, I wound up talking with Raymond Yon (whose son was
attending the camp) and Mickey Benjamin (the older driver of our bus). Raymond has been
to the US, as some time ago he went to work on Ascension and the American company he
worked for sent him to Pennsylvania to study refrigeration and air-conditioning (he's also an
electrician, and currently works for Solomon's). The three of us talked for quite a while
about some of the issues facing St. Helena, including the current citizenship problem, the
number of Saints who must work overseas due to the island's high unemployment (usually
on Ascension or the Falklands), and local politics — from the reduction of UK funding to the
lack of political power Saints feel they have in the current system. One thing I picked up
everytime I was around a Saint was their unwavering patriotism towards England (even after
the way they've been treated), and when I asked Raymond if any Saints served in the British
military, he proudly told me there were currently about 50 young Saints in the British
Armed Forces.
The most talked-about subject on St. Helena now is the idea of building an airport to
service the island. As things currently stand, the only way to move people and cargo
between St. Helena and the outside world is via the RMS St. Helena — one lone ship which
has had some serious breakdown problems. While the idea of an airport isn't new, it has
been brought to the forefront recently due to two competing privately-funded proposals as
well as a reminder of the island's isolation when a local girl diagnosed with leukemia last
year had to be taken to Cape Town for treatment on a cargo liner kind enough to turn
around and pick her up. Locals seem to want the airport for the services it will bring the
island (a steady supply of fresh cargo, easy transport to the outside world, and emergency
medical evacuations when needed), but the problem has been who will build and fund the
project. Both current proposals involve private financing, and are somewhat controversial:
one is tied to the building of a luxury hotel and golf course on the island (with the airport's
main purpose to ferry rich overseas tourists to the resort — though the company promises
jobs and concessions for locals)... but I can't help but wonder what good will come to the
rest of the island from tourists interested only in playing golf in a secluded resort. The other
plan is more even-handed, but to date neither proposal has been able to put together the
funding to move past the initial planning stages, and many people (including the Governor)
seem to feel that in the end, the best solution would be for the UK Government to build the
airport themselves. The UK subsidizes the RMS St. Helena, and there's an ongoing study to
determine if it would be more practical to fund an airport rather than to build and subsidize
a replacement RMS in a few years. Even if an airport is built though, the problem still
remains of what airline will fly there and if it will be cost-effective for them to do so. Talk is
of flights to-and-from the UK and Cape Town, though Ascension (if permission for civilian
flights is obtained) and even Windhoek Namibia (as the closest major airport) have been
mentioned. Of course the other factor one must consider is how the building of an airport
will affect the lifestyle on St. Helena — an island used to isolation from the outside world.
While talking with Raymond and Mickey, the subject of an airport came up, and while just
about everyone I spoke to on St. Helena was solidly behind building one, Raymond was one
of the few people to voice an awareness of the negatives that an airport would bring.
Though not opposed to the idea (progress has to happen), he nonetheless expressed
concerns over how it would change the island's way of life — though in the end, he felt that
if for nothing other than medical reasons, an airport of some sort needs to be built.
Raymond has a computer, and now that the internet is on the island he can email
friends around the world. Mentioning he had a friend on Tristan da Cunha (whom he met
when the fellow came to study refrigeration on St. Helena), when Raymond found out I'd be
headed for Tristan next, he asked if I'd be willing to deliver a letter to his friend from him. I
gladly agreed, but in the end he never got around to writing it.
After relaxing and having lunch, Raymond and Mickey offered to take me on a walk
around the area. Some of the ladies said they'd come along as well, but would follow behind
a bit later. Heading off for Man and Horse (a nice lookout point further on ahead), I
thoroughly enjoyed the fantastic views of Sandy Bay and Sperry Island along the way. After
a while, a couple in a red pickup truck drove by and offered us a lift to the summit (they
were headed there as well, as Sunday afternoon is when people traditionally go out for drives
or walks). Saving time (and a steep walk), we were soon at the top of Man and Horse, taking
in the view. After heading back down, we ran into the ladies who decided to go out
walking... trying to bluff them, Raymond and Mickey said we had walked to the top already
(not mentioning the lift), though the ladies didn't believe it. Still, stretching the truth for a
bit of fun seems to be something Saints like to do now and then: when running into some
kids later on, Raymond and Mickey bragged again that we had walked to the top, and
continued to stand by their story even when the kids knew they were pulling their leg ("no...
you got a lift... we saw the car!") Meeting the ladies down below, we all decided to head back
to the campground via a more direct route, through the rolling green hills and fields rather
than the road.
Along the way I talked quite a bit with Raymond and Mickey about life on St. Helena:
Raymond pointed out a lone house in the distance without an electrical hookup, telling me
the guy who lives there has phone service, but for just the one house, it didn't pay for the
electric company to wire the area. Raymond mentioned that electricity didn't come to St.
Helena until the 1950s or so, and if you grew up used to not having it, being without it now
isn't really a big deal... when he was a kid, Raymond used to slide down Jacob's Ladder (or
skip down it two steps at a time), though now he walks down via the road in the morning for
exercise and takes the company bus back up in the evening (there is no public bus service
on the island, but because of the steep roads, the government and some companies supply
buses to pick up and drop off their employees)... the island's population has remained fairly
constant, but the birth rate has declined recently, and there are now less kids on the island
than at any other time in recent history, forcing some schools to close and the students to
be bussed to other ones... many places on St. Helena have colorful names ("Man and
Horse"), and Mickey mentioned a few more: on Ladder Hill Road, there's a sharp turn which
the locals call "Frenchman's Leap" because some time ago two French men missed the turn
there and drove off the cliff after having too much to drink. The car was totaled, but
miraculously, they were found walking to the hospital with only minor scratches. Another
colorful place name is "Ten Pound Rice", named after the place where a 10-pound bag of rice
once fell off a donkey transporting it, causing the rice to spill all over the road. Finally,
there's a point called "Emily's Jump", where a girl named Emily once jumped from to
commit suicide.
Back at the campsite we all relaxed and talked for a while until the weather started
turning cold and windy. At 5:45pm we thought about heading back, and soon began taking
down the tarp and packing everything up. At 6:20pm we were already in the bus, dropping
people off on the way into town... looking out the window at the areas we were passing, I
began to get a feel for the layout of the island. When we arrived in Half Tree Hollow but
didn't stop, Joy said we'd be going down to Jamestown first, and would be left off last — but
as the usual RMS group had planned to meet that evening for dinner, I decided to get off the
bus in Jamestown.
Meeting everyone at Donny's (Cel, Kevin, James, Pat, Morris, and Peter), I was told
they only had fried chicken and chips left, even though all I wanted was a cheeseburger.
Without much choice I ordered both, as we each talked about our respective activities for
the day. Morris mentioned that Basil George said the home ownership rate on the island is
80% (with most housing on the island consisting of homes not apartments)... and Morris
further commented that "if you upset one person here, you upset a whole bunch of them",
because everyone is either related or very close. I told the group that earlier in the day Larry
commented that Scouting was important because it helps keep kids off the street — and
that while it's still very small, there is nonetheless a drug problem on the island.
Donny's is only open Thursday through Sunday (being closed Monday through
Wednesday), and when a disappointed Cel asked why they would be closed for the next few
days even with plenty of prospective business from RMS passengers, the lady said it was
their policy, as on the days they're open, they stay open pretty late. Out in the water, we
could see the lights of the night fishing boats while we ate.
When finished at Donny's, Kevin and Cel gave me a lift up to Half Tree Hollow again,
dropping me off at Larry & Joy's, where I wrote a bit in the journal before going to sleep.
Though it wasn't an overly-exciting day, I quite enjoyed it, as it gave me a chance to meet,
talk to, and relax with Saints in an everyday setting.
Some misc. info: private car license plates on St. Helena have a number 1 to 4 digits
long, but if the vehicle is licensed to carry public passengers (a bus, a taxi, etc.) there will be
a space and an additional number indicating the amount of passgengers it's allowed to carry
(for instance, "1350 4" indicates the license plate number is 1350, and the vehicle is
permitted to carry 4 passengers)... there's no home insurance on the island... most houses
have laundry lines outside for clothes to dry on instead of electric dryers... people here
smoke — not overly so, but enough to notice after being in Malaysia and South Africa, where
a much smaller percentage of the population smokes (Mickey, in fact, smoked while driving
the bus this morning)... and trash is collected twice a week.
Jan. 8: St. Helena [Farm Lodge / Sandy Bay / Ann's Place]
Even after taking a sleeping pill last night, I was wide awake when the rooster started
even earlier this morning at 3:20am.
Last night I told Joy I'd drop her off at work in the morning, and at 8:00am she was
ready to go. Joy had prepared a nice packed lunch for me today (a ham-cheese-tomato
sandwich and some sweetened sparkling water) — very nice of her, as I was supposed to
take care of my own food.
As Joy doesn't drive and Larry was still at the Scout camp, I had my first crack at
driving the car this morning. I had hoped to be able to practice driving the stick car alone at
first — or at least on a road other than Ladder Hill with its steep grade and narrow width —
but in the end it was a trial by fire, as I carefully started the car and had my first real taste
not only of stickshift driving, but of St. Helena's steep roads. Helping matters was the fact
that since the downhill grade was so steep, I could pretty much just ride the clutch — and
on the one occasion where another car was coming up the hill (thankfully most traffic in the
morning is headed downhill), he waited for me to pass.
I was at the bottom of Ladder Hill Road by 8:10am, and after dropping Joy off at the
Hospital, drove to the post office while trying to remember just what needed to be done to
change gears. Though nervous at first, I picked up stickshift driving quickly, becoming
comfortable with it after just a half an hour or so.
Parking the car in the center of town (with parking spaces located in the middle of the
street), I headed first for the post office, about the only business to open at 8:30am rather
than 9:00am. At 8:15am the post office door was already open, so I walked in to see if they
were ready to start serving customers. Inside, a lady at the counter told me "we're supposed
to open at 8:30am, but it may be later today, as I've just started back again and I don't know
when the other lady will be here... maybe 9:30am?" To pass the time, I wandered around
the nearby area for a bit (having a look at the Consulate Hotel across the street), but as
everything else was still closed, I returned at 8:30am.
The post office has two entrances: the door on the left is for normal post office
business (as well as maps of the island), while the door to the right leads to a separate
philatelic counter (for souvenir stamps, first-day issues, etc). At 8:30am I walked into the
philatelic side, and noticing the VISA sign, asked if I could use VISA to buy some maps.
Unfortunately the answer was no: credit cards can only be used on the "souvenir" side, and
can't be used for normal post office business or to purchase maps.
Though there were plenty of ladies behind the counter waiting to begin helping
customers, they were unable to do so until the lady with the keys arrived — which she did at
8:45am. At that point, I bought three large maps of St. Helena — one to use while driving,
one to give to Russell and Judith (they had asked for one), and one to keep for myself. The
large maps are available in color (£5, recommended) or black and white (£1), but the post
office also sells a smaller A4-size color one — though it's only a general map, and is of little
use while driving. Wanting to send a large map home, I asked the lady if she had any
cardboard tubes I could use to mail it in (and perhaps a second one to carry Russell and
Judith's around in for the next few weeks). At first she didn't think so, but was nice enough
to go in back to look. Sure enough, she managed to find two tubes, and gave them to me
free of charge (she had a hard time trying to get a map to fit inside one of them, but
somehow I was able to squeeze it in). The one in the thinner tubing I mailed off to myself
(85p/US$1.28), and it finally arrived almost four months later.
With a map for driving now, I started my first day of touring St. Helena by car.
Though the faded green Ford Escort Ghia was a 5-speed, nothing above 3rd gear is needed
on the island — and usually nothing above 2nd. Once on a short bit of straightaway, I tried
to get into 4th — but within a few seconds, it was time for 2nd again (the most sensible gear
to use on the island). Though St. Helena follows British driving practices, drivers here don't
drive on the "left", they drive on the "road" — as many are wide enough for only one car.
Often when a car approaches from the opposite direction, one of you must either back up or
move to the side in order to pass each other — indeed, as I was driving up Jamestown's
main street headed towards Ladder Hill Road, traffic was stopped for a good 2-3 minutes in
order to let a garbage truck do its rounds (locals didn't seem to mind the wait or try to pass,
so neither did I).
The first thing I did after driving back to Half Tree Hollow was head for St. Paul's
Cathedral. Though nice, it's quite small (as are most island churches outside of
Jamestown), and I soon continued driving, trying to look at all the green surrounding me
while still keeping an eye on the road.
A bit later I passed a sign reading "Lemon Valley —>", so I stopped to have a look. It
appeared to be the start of a hiking path, but looking around the car I realized I had left my
book on St. Helena walks back at the house. Still, I wanted to give the path a try, so I
parked the car, put some water in the daypack, and started down the trail.
One refreshing thing about St. Helena is that you can leave your car unlocked
anywhere, and nothing will be taken from it or happen to it, even if items are left in plain
sight. This took a bit of getting used to, for in just about anyplace else in the world, locking
your car after getting out is as automatic as walking away from it — but here (as people will
gladly tell you), there's no need to lock your car. Throughout the week I would constantly
leave the car unlocked, with the windows rolled down and items left in plain view on the seat
— but not once was anything ever taken (at first I'd lock it out of habit before reminding
myself I didn't need to!)
Partially cloudy though still hot, I left the car to walk down the Lemon Valley path,
having no idea where it led to. Passing plenty of trees, flax, and prickly pear cacti, I soon
realized I should have put on my running shoes instead of wearing sandals with all the
stones and thorns in the dirt. Off in the distance I could hear what sounded like water
coming from the valley below, but after 40 minutes I decided to turn back around, as
without the walking book, I had no idea where the trail actually ended. Various people I met
later on (including the owner of the Farm Lodge) told me the popular Lemon Valley hike
ends at the water (where people like to swim), and I must have been close to the bottom, as
it typically takes about an hour each way.
Back in the car, I drove through Scotland and Mt. Eternity (a beautiful part of the
island), reaching the quaint, super-tiny "St. Martin's in the Hills" church (complete with four
rows of pews). From there, I continued on to the equally gorgeous areas of Crack Plain and
Blueman's Field, where the road suddenly ends at a small plant store (Cedarvale Plant
Centre) and some very nice paths begin. With no one around, I parked the car and began to
walk down the lower path for 5-6 minutes until it seemed to end at a house. Surprisingly
wired for electricity, the isolated house off by itself was quite charming, and I could hear
people's voices coming from inside. Not wanting to bother them though, I turned around
after looking at the rolling green hills. Back at the car, two vehicles were now parked next to
mine, so I decided to walk into the plant store (now open) for a look around. Inside, a man
was talking to a woman and her kid... the man lived in the area, and when he heard I had
walked to the house, he told me it was possible to continue on to the pasture — just keep
following the path as it splits. Hearing this, I decided to have another go, as it was an
extremely nice walk under some shady trees. After 5-6 minutes I was at the house again —
and sure enough, there's a lower path that continues past it. Passing the sheep in the
house's paddock, I reached the rolling green hills of the pasture, and sat down for a rest and
a bite to eat. Taking out a small box of Kellogs Cocoa Krispies, two nearby grazing sheep
approached me to see what I was doing, but kept their distance. By now the sun had
started to come out, and the weather was becoming even warmer.
After walking back to the car (where the people were now gone and the plant store
was once again closed), I tried to drive back towards Plantation House in order to get to
Sandy Bay — but only the major intersections on the island have any signs, and these signs
will only indicate one particular place where the road heads to... if you don't know the island
well and don't see your destination as one of the choices, you've got to guess which way to
go. Turning the wrong way by mistake, I wound up on a secondary road not even realizing it
was no longer the thick red line on the map. At an intersection, I asked a construction
worker taking a lunch break which way to go... he replied "head for Scotland to go to
Plantation House" (left) — but then I noticed the other choice of direction (to the right) was
labelled "Farm House" — and remembering Peter raving about a Farm Lodge last night at
Donny's, thought I'd check it out first.
Sure enough, just a bit down the road was Farm Lodge: an amazing old house that's
been restored and turned into a high-end B&B. When I stopped the car to have a look
around, the owner (an ex-pat named Steven) came out to greet me and show me around.
Originally built in 1740 (with the 2F added in 1790), it was in terrible shape when Steven
and his wife came over from the UK six years ago to take it over and turn it into a
B&B/hotel. Work on it is still being done, and as I was shown the various rooms, a local
Saint was hard at work installing a shower. Currently six people can be housed in the
finished rooms, but once all the work is complete, ten will be able to stay in the house. On
the grounds outside, finger bananas ("nanas" as the locals call them) and coffee is grown,
though usually just for consumption by B&B guests unless they have an unusually
abundant crop. In the living room, Steven showed me something that came with the
property when he bought it: Napoleon's original wine cooler (set out in the middle of the
room), and out in back, he's trying to re-build a pond that was once there years ago. Steven
worked on ships for over 30 years (spending much of that time as head purser on the RMS),
and when it came time to retire he decided on St. Helena, telling me how much he loves the
island (though he does go back to civilization for a visit each year). There were no guests
staying at the Lodge today, but Steven needs to work harder at getting the word out, for it's
an amazing place where many people would stay if only they knew about it. Its location out
in the country can either be a plus or minus depending on what you prefer... it certainly is
in a beautiful part of the island, though it'd be more convenient to stay here if you have your
own transportation (Steven mentioned many guests hire taxis). The rates aren't as cheap as
other places, but for those who savor the idea of staying in a beautiful old country house,
there's no better choice. Before leaving, I bought a Sprite (40p/60c) from Steven as he
offered to have his partner show me the correct road to Plantation House. Saying it wasn't
necessary though, I thanked him and went on my way.
As I continued driving, I passed the George Benjamin Endemic Garden, and stopped
to have a look. George Benjamin is the premiere botanist on St. Helena, and the garden
bearing his name contains many of the island's rare and endemic plants (we actually passed
the area while driving out to the Scout camp yesterday). The small patch of land by the road
with picnic tables contains such plants as the "she" and "he" cabbage trees (the "she"
cabbage tree was once thought to be extinct, but was found again in 1977) as well as the
Lobelia, some ferns, and many others. Thankfully the fellows with the noisy tree trimming
machines working by the side of the road stopped by the time I finished looking at the
plants, and sitting down at one of the picnic tables, I took out some lunch. The sun soon
began to come out though, so I moved to the inside of a little wooden shelter up in the
corner of the garden, where I ate the packed lunch Joy had made for me. Besides the
garden area by the road, there's also a foot path which leads down an extensive trail —
though I decided not to spend the time exploring it. Across the road from the Garden is yet
another path, but I only walked down it for a few minutes before turning around.
From the Endemic Garden I headed next to Sandy Bay — and managed to find the
correct road on my own (stopping only once on the way down to verify I was headed the right
way). The road to Sandy Bay is fun to drive, consisting of numerous sharp hairpin curves
while heading down (and later up) a steep grade. There are scattered homes throughout the
area, as well as a Thorpe's store, a Solomon's, and an abandoned Baptist Chapel. Heading
down, there are some great views of Lot (the rock formation resembling a mitten) and some
small farms near the end, but the area right by the water is almost all brown-and-orange
dirt. Sandy Bay itself is not sandy — instead, it has lots of small, smooth rocks which make
interesting sounds as the waves advance and retreat around them.
Parking the car and getting out, no one else was around (though Kevin and Cel later
said they were here earlier in the day and saw people fishing). Walking down to the water to
wade my feet, I was surprised at how warm the water was... living in North America, I had
always been conditioned into thinking that the Atlantic was the colder ocean — but not on
St. Helena! Here the water was quite warm, and Sandy Bay is a popular swimming spot
(sadly obvious from the porta-potty and trash). Off in the distance was the remains of an
old brick archway, and I noticed most of the small rocks here were black and volcanic.
Picking up two to take home as souvenirs, I practiced stone-skipping with others on the
small, strong waves breaking close to shore.
After relaxing by the water, I decided to head back... driving up the hill, I honked the
horn constantly on the blind curves (short, unobtrusive toots, as I know people live in the
area). On the way up, I stopped in at the small Solomon's Sandy Bay store, where inside, an
old man and a middle-aged man with his young daughter were looking at the available items
to buy, taking their time in deciding. When I asked the middle-aged man why there are
remains of an archway by the water, he didn't know how to answer me except to say that
there used to be a wall all the way around the area, but all that's left now are the ruins.
When I then asked how long it would take to drive back to Jamestown leisurely, the man
replied "Leisurely? About 25 minutes... Yeah, not rushing..." — and he was right on the
nose, as it would have been 25 minutes had I not run into the evening traffic rush in the
Half Tree Hollow area. Buying a mint Wonderbar and a grape Fanta (39p/59c total), I
continued on my way.
Back in Half Tree Hollow at about 4:15pm, I encountered the stready stream of traffic
coming up Ladder Hill Road from Jamestown below... as the shops and offices begin to close
and people start driving home, just about everyone who lives outside of Jamestown needs to
begin their drive home by heading up either Ladder Hill Road or the equivalent road on the
other side of Jamestown. Behind a truck going down, we were constantly pulling off to the
side to give the right-of-way to a steady stream of cars coming up the road, and the short
distance from Ladder Hill Fort down to Jamestown took a good 10 minutes this afternoon.
Back in town, I first went to Solomon's Souvenir Shop to see if the cashier there was
able to find any St. Helena T-shirts in medium (she told me the other day she'd check in
back)... unfortunately she wasn't able to find any, but I did find a "Dive St. Helena" T-shirt
from the "Rose & Crown" shop up the street (a store which also sells boom boxes and rents
videos). Wanting to send some email, I walked over to Cable & Wireless, but a person in an
upstairs office told me they had closed at 4:00pm. Trying to then meet Eric Benjamin
(someone whom I had corresponded with before coming to St. Helena), I walked over to the
London Gift Shop, which he co-owns with a lady: half the store (Eric's side) sells musical
supplies from guitar strings to metronomes, and the other half sells fashion accessories and
jewelry. Meeting Eric's wife inside, she told me Eric was at a meeting, but that she'd tell him
I stopped by (I then bought a St. Helena cufflink and sticker from the other side of the store).
Going into the Market Building to make a phone call (but the phone there was an older
coins-only model), I walked out to see a man in a white shirt and tie coming up to introduce
himself to me... it was Eric Benjamin (his wife had pointed me out) — a musician and
conductor of one of the island's orchestras, Eric was a nice guy who offered to help in
anyway he could while I was on the island. As we started talking, I found out he's also a
photography buff (with a Canon AE-1 camera, though he was currently using a digital
camera to help out a local office in town with the internet). As he had to return to his
meeting we said goodbye, but I would see him around town a few more times before leaving
— and before going, he pointed out the house where Colin's daughter Tracy lives (so I could
check my email: it's the blue building near the Consulate Hotel).
I next went to phone Mike to find out when he had booked the radio station for us to
tape his Classical Hour show: it would be Wednesday at 1:00pm, and we arranged to meet
by Plantation House beforehand so Mike could show me the way to the station.
As the sun had finally come out, I decided to locate Jamestown's large, olympic-sized
swimming pool (as you walk towards the water, it's outside the archway to the right). As
soon as I saw it, I wanted to jump right in — only I didn't have my swim trunks on and it
closed at 6:00pm (it was now 5:30pm). The pool is wonderful though, and costs only
35p/53c for adults and 15p/23c for children under 8. Howard (my bunkmate from the
RMS) was at the pool swimming with two Saint friends of his, and we talked for a bit before I
wandered off and ran into Kevin and Cel — who invited me up for dinner at their place later
(Cel was going to cook up at the flat).
Heading over to Tracy's house to see about the internet connection, I saw a group of
people waiting at the Consulate Hotel for the evening "country pub tour" which Colin runs in
his Charabanc... so I went over to chat with them for a bit. A few minutes later Tracy came
by, and I asked about using her computer. "Sure," she said, "just a minute..." as she took a
picture of the group with her digital camera, which would later be printed out by the
computer for optional purchase. Taking me into her home/office after the group left, I sat
down at the computer downstairs as her young son came over to watch, curious as to what I
was doing. Though I was able to telnet on her computer, the dial-up connection was so slow
that I switched to my web-based email (where copies of my mail were being forwarded). The
painfully sluggish connection wasn't Tracy's fault... everyone I spoke to said the slow
connection was typical (and thus makes it extremely impractical and expensive to do any
significant downloading). The cost was £2/US$3 for 15 minutes, but I accomplished what I
needed to do (including looking up a friend's address so I could send a postcard off to her).
When finished, I only had a £10 note — and as Tracy didn't have any change handy, she
told me "just pay me when you see me next time."
When done with my email, I drove back up Ladder Hill Road to the Flaggs' place,
where Kevin and Cel were staying. In the gravel driveway, the car stalled on me (Cel took it
the rest of the way in), but from then on, I never needed help again. However once at the
flat, Cel said that we'd be going back into town to join Pat & Morris for dinner at Ann's Place
instead...
Earlier in the day, Pat and Morris had arranged dinner for six at Ann's Place (as at
most restaurants on the island other than Donny's you're asked to make advance
reservations). In the end, most of us (Kevin, Cel, James, and myself) just kind of decided
not to go — but when Pat & Morris showed up by themselves and told Ann it would only be
the two of them, Ann became quite angry at Pat, saying she had already cooked dinner for
six. Pat called Cel up to ask if we wouldn't come to dinner with them as originally planned,
and Cel agreed. I can see Ann's point... we had made a reservation and then it was changed
from six to two... though Pat seemed pretty upset with how mad Ann had been at her — and
upon arriving, we were given a choice of meals (stuffed lamb or tuna), making us wonder if
the meals really had been cooked on not, especially when it took quite a while to be served (I
opted for the tuna while everyone else ordered the lamb). My meal was actually quite tasty
(though luke-warm) — but Kevin's was downright cold (enough to where he asked it to be
heated again). Kevin and Cel were upset, Pat was just happy she didn't have to endure
being yelled at alone, and I was somewhat indifferent to the whole affair (my food wasn't hot,
but it wasn't cold either... and though Ann didn't have to act the way she did, it's true that
we originally said there'd be six people).
While eating dinner, I remembered that I needed to call Basil George: I had called him
earlier in the day to let him know I wouldn't be joining his tour today, but told him I'd call
him again later in the day to let him know about tomorrow... so I left for a minute to call
Basil and tell him I had decided to go off on my own tomorrow as well (not to ask for a
refund, but just to let him know not to bother waiting for me in the morning).
After the meal (£4/US$6) and a scoop of ice-cream for desert (40p/60c) I left the
group to climb Jacob's Ladder at night — but I soon returned after seeing that the lights
were off tonight: apparently the staircase is lit only when the RMS (or similar ship) is in port,
and now that the RMS had left to go onto Ascension, the ladder was dark. Not particularly
wanting my first climb up the ladder to be in the dark, I decided to wait and see if it would
be lit when the RMS returned once more in a few days.
Back with the group, I talked and chatted with everyone between writing notes in my
journal until about 10:15pm. Ann (a very strong, eccentric lady) scolded me for not eating
my string beans, and continued to press her point about why she was so angry before... but
in the end, she can be quite funny and friendly. Soon, the son of an old friend of Morris &
Pat's joined us (he was just a young child when the two last saw him), telling us that while
some homes on the island can cost as much as £80,000/US$120,000, most are in the
£20,000-£60,000 (US$30,000-US$90,000) range, commenting that Half Tree Hollow is
popular as a "starter" area, as the homes there aren't quite as expensive as some other
places. Shortly after 10:15pm, I returned back up to Half Tree Hollow with Kevin and Cel,
where I finished my journal and went to sleep.
Misc. info: one of the shops in Jamestown is a "catalog shop" filled with nothing but
dozens of different British catalogs, where local islanders can browse them, select an item,
and the shop will take care of the ordering.
Jan. 9: St. Helena [Radio St. Helena / Diana's Peak / Deadwood Plain]
Due to the rooster waking me up the past few mornings, I actually woke up today out
of habit at 2:56am — just minutes before the rooster began his daily noisemaking. However
I discovered that the earplugs from the RMS' engine room tour actually worked somewhat in
blocking the noise (though not completely), and decided to give them a try tonight.
Having had almost no sleep last night, I just sat in bed for a few hours until finally
deciding to get up. Once up though, I saw that Joy had already left for work, leaving the
following note on the table:
Larry—Good morning! (1) Please go into Jamestown Spar this morning
and ask for Marilyn Benjamin — something about the name on your
credit card not coming out clearly. (2) Phone 4669, ask for Tony Leo.
He wants to interview you for Radio St. Helena. (3) Phone Dougie
Bennett on 2470... something about meeting the Young Musicians. If
in any doubt, phone me on 2500. Okay! See you later (the packed
lunch is yours).
Amazing. Here I had just arrived a few days ago, and already I needed to phone up
people I hadn't even met yet! But that's what I liked about St. Helena — and next to the
note was a packed lunch, complete with a Schweppes Bitter Lemon Soda for me. Though
my original plans were to have an early start heading off for Diana's Peak, I decided to pick
up the phone and call the people on the list first.
The lady I was supposed to speak with at the Spar wasn't in yet, but apparently the
name on my credit card hadn't come out on the charge slip, so I'd need to drop by later and
have them make another imprint of the card. Telling them I'd drop by some point before
closing, I then called up Radio St. Helena.
When I first called the station Tony was in the middle of his show, and could talk
only for a minute... he had heard I was on the island, and wanted to know if I wouldn't mind
coming down to the station for an interview and mini violin concert on the air. A bit
apprehensive (as I hadn't practiced in quite a while), I nonetheless agreed, telling him I'd
leave the house in 20 minutes, and asked for directions to the station. Putting down the
phone, I quickly took out the violin and began to flip through some of the music I had
brought with me, searching for some nice, short pieces I could play on the radio — then
proceeded to run through them once or twice to refresh my memory (the rooster started
going off again at the sound, but my reaction was "you don't like the violin? Too bad!")
After not even 20 minutes, I piled everything I'd need for the day into the car and
headed off towards the radio station, located inland from Half Tree Hollow (at least I didn't
have to start the day by taking Ladder Hill Road again)... with it cloudy and misting, maybe
it was better to start the day indoors at the station.
Walking into Radio St. Helena, I met Joy Lawrence (one of the station's on-air
personalities), and one of the first things out of her mouth upon meeting me was "I heard
you played on South Park!" (news definitely travels on St. Helena). I ribbed her back a bit
though when I mentioned that I had heard her on the air quite some time ago... she seemed
puzzled, and asked how long I'd been here on the island — but then laughed as I explained
that I heard her on the homemade CD the station released containing clips of the yearly
shortwave broadcasts they used to do...
Radio St. Helena is the island's only station, and for quite a few years (until 1999),
they used to do a special yearly broadcast relayed on shortwave as well. DXers from around
the world would try to pick up the signal, sending in reception reports, postcards, and
greetings from their home countries... a shortwave listener myself, I was never able to pick
up the station as I had only small hand-held radios incapable of receiving the weak signal —
but a few years ago, a home-made CD containing clips of the various broadcasts was made
available, and Joy Lawrence was one of the hosts heard on the CD. In 1999 the shortwave
broadcasts stopped, as they used Cable & Wireless' old transmitter (C&W would pick up the
station locally, then use their transmitter to re-broadcast the signal onto the shortwave
spectrum). When C&W no longer needed the transmitter, they donated it to the station —
but with Radio St. Helena's meager budget, the station didn't have the resources to put up a
tower or complete the necessary work, so the yearly shortwave broadcasts are (at least for
now) a thing of the past. Joy mentioned they've toyed with the idea of having a live internet
broadcast, but it just wouldn't be the same.
While Tony was on the air, Joy showed me around the station for a bit... the walls
and windows of Radio St. Helena are plastered with postcards and letters from people
around the world who heard the shortwave broadcasts, and standing side-by-side next to
each other are the station's two American-made transmitters (one on standby in case the
other breaks down). The walls of the main hallway are lined with endless racks of old LPs,
some cassettes and CDs, and even a few MiniDiscs... many of the LPs are quite old, and one
large collection was a set of LPs donated by Radio Sweden (featuring Swedish artists, of
course).
The station was built in 1967, and has an extensive archive room with recordings of
old broadcasts (mostly from 1973 on, though a few 1960s recordings exist) — Tony later told
me they were currently in the process of copying the archival recordings onto the MiniDisc
format (originally they were to use CD-Rs, but in the end, decided on MDs). The range of the
current transmitter is about 300 miles (visiting yachts have reported picking up the station
that far out) — though I've heard locals joke that it's hard enough hearing the station
everywhere on St. Helena itself. With 1,000 watts of power, the station broadcasts on
1548khz AM/MW (St. Helena uses a 9khz step-rate increment instead of 10khz — not that it
matters though, as Radio St. Helena is the island's only station!) Their yearly budget is only
£30,000/US$45,000 — and from that must come the salaries of six full-time staff, power,
upkeep, and other operating expenses (when later noticing a collection of CD radio plays
produced by the BBC, Tony told me how expensive they were to buy). The station re-
broadcasts the BBC at certain times of the day, and when I asked how they get their feed, I
was shown a small desktop Yaesu receiver. Tony commented that reception can often be
pretty lousy, and they've been bugging the BBC for years to provide a satellite dish in order
to receive them properly. He mentioned that a colleage at a Bulgarian radio station was
given one years ago, but only recently did the BBC finally agree to provide one to St. Helena
(it would be arriving soon, and a few months later in April, the front-page story of the St.
Helena News was the successful installation of the new BBC dish).
During a quick break, Tony introduced himself and asked if I would mind doing the
interview live (I didn't) — but by the time Joy's tour of the station was finished, there was
only about 5 minutes of Tony's show left... so we instead decided to do it to live-to-tape.
When Tony was finished behind the mic, he came out of the studio to talk with me for
a bit. A genuinely friendly guy with a great radio personality, he's pretty much the voice of
the island (along with Joy), and has been at the station for over 20 years.
While taking out the violin to show Tony, I swung the bow around and watched as it
slipped out of my hand and fell to the floor, breaking right in front of us. I couldn't believe
it. I had kept this violin and bow for a few years specifically for the purpose of bringing it to
St. Helena, and had managed to transport it through Malaysia, Cape Town, and the RMS —
and right here at the local radio station just before I was going to play it for an interview, I
dropped the bow. Being a student violin, the bow was plastic, and it shattered right at the
tip. Tony went to fetch some super-glue, and after carefully gluing it together, set it down to
dry as we went into the studio to start the first part of the interview.
The studio itself is a decent size and has all the necessary equipment, including
mixing boards, turntables, reel-to-reel, CD, and cassette decks, and of course a mic. Tony
sat behind the desk, and I took a seat in front of him. It was quite cold inside the studio, so
I switched off the air-con unit (made by Defy — a brand found in South Africa) before
beginning. Before switching on the recorder, Tony started to give me a brief outline of what
he might ask, but I told him just to go ahead and ask anything he wished — and with that,
we started the interview. About 20 minutes long, we covered everything from why I wanted
to visit St. Helena in the first place to how I managed to get here — as well as plenty of
questions about my job, from how many hours a day I used to practice when I was a kid to
what it's like recording a film soundtrack. At one point, Tony mentioned I had brought a
violin with me to leave on the island, and asked if I'd play a few tunes on the air. Saying I
would, we stopped the tape to walk out and see if the super-glue had dried and held...
indeed it had, though when I put the bow back together, the hair bunched up instead of
lying flat. Figuring it was because the tip had been reset slightly askew, I told Tony it would
work, but that the sound would be diminished and not as even.
Back in the studio we continued with the interview, as Tony asked me what pieces I'd
be playing. I had selected two: the Romance of the Wieniawski Violin Concerto #2, and the
short, fast Giga from the Bach Unaccompanied E-major Partita. Not having a music stand,
Tony found a case, opened it up, and used tack gum to stick my xerox copies onto it.
Picking up the violin, I played both pieces without stopping or editing... the Wieniawski was
a little long (I told Tony he could edit it if he wanted to — which he did for broadcast), but I
was a little angry at myself for the tone being so thin due to the problem with the bow.
Afterwards, Tony had more questions and we continued with the interview, but when it was
all done I took another look at the bow and managed to untangle the hair most of the way.
Asking Tony if I could re-record at least the Bach with the bow now in better shape, he let
me — and with the hair flatter (though still not normal), the sound was much better (I told
him to use this second take instead of the first).
When the interview was finished, Tony said he'd mix it that afternoon and get a copy
of it to me — then took me around the station to introduce me to some of the staff. Up on
the wall I saw a sign listing station merchandise for sale, and I wound up buying a Radio St.
Helena T-shirt (with only S or XL available I bought the S), a pin, and a bumper sticker.
Tony then threw in a second bumper sticker for free ("put one on your car at home!" he
smiled), as well as a set of coasters and some buttons. I had a great time at the station, and
wouldn't have traded the morning for anything.
From Radio St. Helena I started my drive out towards Diana's Peak. The weather was
cloudy (as it had been all week — "strange weather" Tony had said, as it's usually sunny
this time of year) — but at least it wasn't overly hot.
Diana's Peak National Park contains the highest point on the island (reached via a
short, medium, or long path)... and finding the spot where the three different trails begin, I
parked the car off the side of the road. About three years before, I ordered a map of Diana's
Peak showing the routes and approximate time of each trail (the map is also available on the
island)... however I became quite confused during the course of my walk, as the map makes
it appear that "Cabbage Tree Road" is the road you drive in on (it's not — it's the long
FOOTPATH you walk down before reaching the point where the trails actually start).
Because I thought the footpath was actually the start of the trail, my idea of where I was on
the map was totally wrong, and I wound up getting completely lost. Along the way are
occasional wooden posts with arrows in three colors (red is for the shorter trail, black/green
for the middle one, and yellow for the longest), but they're not everywhere, and it's easy to
become confused if you don't know exactly where you are.
After walking for 45 minutes, I came to Cuckold's Point — which is actually a bit
higher than Diana's Peak, and the true highest point on St. Helena (it has the tall pine tree
which can be seen from much of the island — as well as a fine view if the weather isn't
misting as it was today). After taking some pictures I walked down to continue along the
same path trying to find Diana's Peak — but after a while, I reached a gate where the trail
seemed to end. Puzzled, I returned to the base of the Cuckold's Point stairs, climbing up to
the lookout once more — though this time, I decided to walk down the other side. I could
hear voices in the distance, so I yelled out asking if Diana's Peak was nearby (during the
radio interview with Tony, he joked that if I got lost in this weather at Diana's Peak, I should
just take out my violin and start playing). The voices responded by telling me (in a strong
St. Helenan accent) to keep going — and in a few minutes, I met a group of four Saints
working in the area to clear away some of the overgrown flax with machetes (though they
were all resting). They pointed out Diana's Peak just a bit ahead, and after getting my
directions straightened out, I went on my way.
Soon I was at Diana's Peak: at the top is a box on a post, inside of which is an ink
pad, a stamp, a notebook, and a pen. The stamp (which you can place on a postcard or
piece of paper) reads "Diana's Peak, Highest Point on St. Helena, South Atlantic Ocean,
823m/2,700ft" — though again, Cuckold's Point is actually slightly higher. Opening the
notebook, I read the names and comments of other visitors who had come to the area
(including a few from Japan) before leaving my own. Looking down at my Nikes, I noticed
they were soaked with all the wet grass in the area.
The fellows earlier had pointed out the way to continue in the same direction, but
with the misty weather, I decided to just return the way I came. Passing the workers again
(they were having lunch now), I thanked them for their help and headed back to the car —
and it was only then that I realized the confusion with the map. Still, the walk was
definitely worth doing, even with all the clouds and mist around.
Back at the car, I ate Joy's sandwich and a small cereal box while trying to pick up
Radio St. Helena on my portable Sangean (as the car had no working radio of its own). The
sun was beginning to come out now, and the weather was getting warmer.
After lunch I continued driving, making my way through Stitche's Ridge, the
Dungeon, Hutt's Gate (where a now-closed store was for sale), and Longwood. From
Longwood, I drove north to Deadwood Plain, where I was ready to drive onto the dry grassy
hillside until I ran into Basil George and his tour arriving at the same time. Surprising
James, the German couple, and the other RMS passengers on the tour, I walked up to the
Nissan kombi to say hello — at which point Basil invited me to join them for a while.
There was a bird expert tagging along with the group to help point out the wirebird to
everyone (a bird found only on St. Helena)... while the small grey and white bird is capable of
flight, it usually moves by running quickly along the ground, and tends to be found in areas
with lots of dry grass (such as Deadwood Plain or the Longwood Golf Course). As I had no
binoculars (only a 210mm lens on my camera), I couldn't see the birds as the expert pointed
them out until someone lent me their pair — but with the aid of binoculars, I could watch
some of the small birds scurry along the ground off in the distance. There's only an
estimated 370 wirebirds left in the world, all living on St. Helena.
Climbing into the van with the rest of the group, we then drove up into the hills (as I
was originally going to do in my rented Ford). Along the way, we passed the three wind
turbines recently erected to help supply the island with electricity...
Deadwood Plain was once one of the two areas considered for a possible future
airport, but that's no longer the case now due to the presense of these three new turbines.
Installed less than a year ago in this windy area, the three turbines supply 11% of the
island's electricity needs (though Basil commented that the price of electricity hasn't gone
down because of them). Later on the RMS, I asked the Governor about the possibility of
putting up a few more... he was in favor of it, though he wanted to wait a few years first to
see how these held up over time (a few days ago on the Charabanc tour the turbines weren't
running, though today they were going at full speed).
In front of us was Flagstaff Hill, and as the van stopped at the base, a group of us
decided to climb to the top with Basil while others stayed behind to look for more wirebirds.
The walk up doesn't take too long, and from the top there are some spectacular views of the
island and the coastline. Looking at the barren, colorful volcanic hills nearby, Basil pointed
out the route the lava followed centuries ago, and off in the distance to the other side was
Half Tree Hollow.
After looking at the incredible views (this is one of the nicest hikes on the island —
don't miss it) we headed back down, with Basil answering my questions along the way...
when I asked about the island's water supply, Basil said it now comes from ground springs,
with some chlorine added (though years ago there was a desalinization plant where Rupert's
Bay is now)... he mentioned that houses start at £20,000/US$30,000 but that the land itself
is relatively cheap (commenting that he managed to buy some land for his son at
£750/US$1,125 a while back, and it wouldn't cost much more now — the major cost is for
the structure, not the land)... though he has asbestos in his house, he doesn't worry about it
even though he knows everyone says it's dangerous... joking, he asked me and the German
couple how he would know when St. Helena joined the 1st (or even 2nd) world — the
German couple replied with answers such as traffic and crime, but my answer was simply
"when phone numbers are more than 4 digits long"... though he was joking about St. Helena
being in the 3rd world, he did stress that it's a different style of life here, and things such as
asbestos dangers just don't bother people.
At the bottom, the tour group decided to spend more time birdwatching, so instead of
waiting for a lift back to my car, I decided just to walk the distance on foot. From the point
where the van was parked the car didn't look that far away — but it was mis-leading, for it
was actually quite a long walk (though throughly enjoyable). Along the dirt road, I walked
right past the three turbines (hearing the "whoosh" sound up close as I stood right
underneath them), and there were plenty of cows out relaxing in the dry pasture.
Back at the car, I stopped for petrol at the Longwood Solomon's, where an employee
pumps it for you on the honor system (before you've gone inside to pay for it). Telling the
employee how much you want, you then go inside the store to pay the cashier (who writes
your name and the amount of petrol purchased in a log book, before giving you a receipt to
show the employee outside). Inside the store I also bought two small orange Club bars, and
noticed a sign on the front door advertising a low price on out-of-date flour, mentioning that
it would be good for use in cooking, though results may be slightly different due to it being
out of date.
I next drove past the Longwood Golf Course out to Horse Point at the end of the road.
Here on the left is the large island garbage dump, with the new Millennium Forest on the
right (located at the site of the old forest, which had been cut down over the years). For £1
you can have a tree planted with your name on it here, and there were hundreds of small
saplings in the area, all propped up by wooden sticks with dates and names written on
them. There's a wooden gate and small covered structure at the entrance, though it
currently seems somewhat out of place, as right now the "forest" is nothing but tiny
saplings. Still, in a few decades this should become quite a nice place, and help to balance
out the island's trash pile on the other side.
Driving back from the Millennium Forest, I stopped along the way to call home from a
phone booth placed right in front of someone's house. When finished, I continued driving
back towards Jamestown, passing through Seaview (one of the more expensive areas on the
island) before opting to go down the hillside opposite Ladder Hill for a change. This other
road was even worse than Ladder Hill due to the curves, blind hilltops, and roadwork that
had been going on here (with it now late afternoon, the workers were gone and the road had
re-opened until tomorrow, but there was plenty of loose gravel on the road and signs
warning drivers to "Look Out For Loose Grit").
Back in Jamestown at 4:55pm, I noticed the souvenir shop by the archway was still
closed (this shop had the St. Helena sweatshirts I wanted to buy hanging in the window, but
never seemed to be open). Deciding to visit the Spar to get the credit card problem fixed, I
ran into Valerie Joshua on the street (a lady who often organizes walks on the island).
Asking her about the possibility of a walk tomorrow, she said one might be organized with
someone else (as she'd have to work), but it wound up not happening (probably just as well
though, as I was constantly busy).
Walking into the Spar, I gave them my credit card to make another imprint of (with
credit cards being new on the island — and only being used by visitors, some of the cashiers
didn't quite know the proper way to handle them). I then bought a tart (the Spar has a fresh
bakery section by the front), a cupcake, some more small Kellogs cereals, and some club
bars, putting everything on Visa once more.
Outside, I ran into Pat (the South African born on St. Helena)... with his relatives
around him, he showed me where he once lived (in a house right at the start of town), as
well as where an old swimming pond used to be.
Thinking about the pond, I realized it was still early enough to have a dip in the local
swimming pool, as today I had come prepared and brought my swim trunks with me. One
end of the pool is shallow for the kids, but there's a diving board at the deep end, and the
pool's long length makes it perfect for swimming laps. Going in from about 5:15pm-5:45pm,
I enjoyed the large, beautiful pool with only one or two other people around (including
Howard, who showed up after a bit), but changing back in the men's room afterwards, I did
something stupid: I dropped the daypack with my camera in it, and damaged the lens.
Though the glass itself didn't shatter (the filter did), the lens became mis-aligned, and would
cause a lot of headaches for me in the coming days. Borrowing the broom next to the pay
window, I swept up the filter glass and walked back to Main street.
With it being about 6:00pm, I walked into the library to find a quiet spot to start my
journal for the day (so I wouldn't have to write it all tonight) — but the library closes at
6:30pm, so I was soon forced to continue it on the benches outside the library (under the
trees with the noisy birds).
At 7:00pm I drove back up to Half Tree Hollow for dinner with Cel and Kevin (delayed
from yesterday). James was there as well, and it was nice to be able to sit back, talk, and
enjoy a leisurely dinner. The Flaggs (who live in the other half of the structure) had given
Cel some fresh makrel they recently caught, so a delicious dinner was made with it tonight.
Patsy Flagg is actually Tony Leo's brother (not the same Patsy whom I rented the car from),
and while Cel was cooking, Patsy came in to say that my interview was on the radio.
Turning it on, we caught the last half of it, along with the violin pieces (it was the first time
any of the group had heard me on the violin — though Tony had indeed edited the
Wieniawski due to its length). Listening to myself being interviewed seemed strange, but
everyone got a kick out of it and said I sounded great.
Tonight there was to be a total lunar eclipse, so throughout the evening we kept
peeking outside, but the sky was filled with clouds. Watching the cricket game on South
African TV, Kevin pointed out the occasional split-screen image the station had of the
eclipse, but we all wanted to see it for ourselves. A bit later Patsy came by to tell us the
moon was now somewhat visible — so we all went out to the backyard to have a look. As
Patsy turned out the lights we all sat down... and indeed the clouds would occasionally
pass, giving us a brief glimpse of the eclipsed moon. A few minutes later Patsy's grandkids
came by to look as well (as Half Tree Hollow would normally be a prime viewing area), and
soon there were a lot of eyes looking up at the sky (even the dog was staring up).
Returning back inside for dinner and ice-cream, the four of us enjoyed a nice meal
and some interesting conversation. Kevin and Cel had spent part of the day talking to Mr.
Thorpe (of Thorpe's stores), and are now more serious than ever about moving here to start a
farm/vinyard. Though they would return back to South Africa on the RMS in a few days,
two years from now they might be here for good.
After a while we called it a night, and I drove the short distance back to Larry &
Joy's. When I walked in, Joy (watching Jerry Springer on TV) told me that Dougie Bennett
had called... he had arranged a time for me to meet some of the young musicians and
present the violin to them. The last thing I wanted was to make a big fuss about the violin,
but it was what Eric and Dougie had arranged, so who was I to say no? I'd be presenting
the violin this Thursday night at 7:30pm at the Baptist Chapel in town (when there'd be a
meeting elsewhere discussing the various options for the RMS schedule during the island's
500th anniversary in May, 2002).
After taking a shower I relaxed in my room, catching up on my journal for a bit and
turning on the radio, as it was still early enough to hear the end of the daily broadcast: at
10:00pm, a repeat of the 8:00pm news bulletin is aired, followed by the advertisements and
announcements, and finally a religious sermon before going off the air.
Among the stories reported on in today's news bulletin: for the week of Jan. 2-8,
police received 22 reports (down from 29 the previous week)... for the last 5 weeks the sea
has been quite rough in James Bay, preventing passengers aboard the QE2 from going
ashore when the vessel visited in early December (causing a loss of tourist revenue), and
forcing fishermen to use the landing steps in Jamestown rather than Rupert's Jetty (the
usual spot for fish and petrol), though conditions are slowly returning to normal... a man
was arrested and released on bail for allegedly stealing a water tap... a driver involved in a
minor traffic accident was given a verbal warning... the various calls of the fire department
were given... the RMS arrived at Ascension at 00:15am and departed at 12:30pm today, with
arrival at St. Helena estimated to be at noon on Thursday, embarkation at 10:00am on
Friday, and sailing at noon on Friday... the lady with cancer (who was on the RMS in order
to spend her last days on St. Helena) died Monday, with the funeral being set for tomorrow...
the winner of the post office raffle draw for a Barney doll was announced... because of the
Governor's Cup race, a total of 25 yachts visited the island in December, with 180 total for
all of 2000, including 55 from South Africa, 38 from Britain, and even a few from America...
a large white ship was seen off St. Helena — radio contact was attempted, though
unsuccessful... and finally, the lights and flags out for Christmas were taken down around
town today.
After the news, the announcements and advertisements followed (all read by the
station announcer... there are no snappy jingles on St. Helena): allotments from Falklands
will be paid after 11:00am on Thursday... from tomorrow, Brown's Video will close from
1:30pm on Wednesdays... mail to Cape Town will close at 3:00pm Thursday from the
Jamestown post office, and 12:00pm noon from the sub-offices... employment in the UK
with AC Plastic Industries is available, see the notice board in the Employment Office for
details... Ascension needs a school bus driver/handyman (single and unaccompanied) — the
pay is £3,970/US$5,955 per year with accomodation and board provided... at the Castle, an
assistant is needed with good education and a good sense of humor... Solomon's Half Tree
Hollow Spar needs a hardware assistant and petrol person... the St. Helena Fire Service is
looking to fill a full-time position in Jamestown at £63.75/US$95.63 per week, uniform
provided... there will be a skittles match Thursday of Rock Club vs. Ascension, followed by a
disco... tender offers/bids are being accepted for 6 ton tipper trucks and 3 ton flatbed trucks
— you can view them at Bradley's Garage... for sale: Ford Escort 1600cc convertable car,
excellent condition, insured through August 2000, 4 new tires, £2,500/US$3,750 or next
offer, call Leslie Henry at 4599 (note: as is typical, when a car is advertised for sale, the year
is never given... on St. Helena, the condition of the car is much more important than its
year!)... "Building a house? Shop 'Queen Mary!' Everything you need for building a home.
Price examples are as follows: 50mm waste pipes £4.60/US$6.90..."
The broadcast ends with an epilogue presented by a minister at around 10:15pm
before the station goes off the air.
Jan. 10: St. Helena [Prince Andrew / Jamestown / Radio / Lonely Cottage]
During the night I used the earplugs from the RMS' engine room tour to help against
the rooster, but I still woke up at 3:00am (a half-hour before the rooster began its daily
noise) out of habit. Lying in bed until 6:20am, I finally decided to get an early start, and left
the house at 6:50am to drive out to Prince Andrew School.
The only high school on the island, Prince Andrew is located outside of Jamestown (a
bit past the Briars), and all kids aged 11-18 on St. Helena are bussed there. Situated down
in a valley, the road to get there has some nasty hairpin curves, and I can't imagine how the
island's school buses manage the road.
Under cloudy and misting skies I arrived at the school expecting it to be deserted, but
found a few groundskeepers there working. Asking if I could look around, they said no
problem, so I checked the place out — first by myself, then with one of the groundskeepers
volunteering to show me the insides of some of the classrooms.
The school is comprised of four main buildings attached to each other, and can
accomodate about 365 students (the school term would begin again on Tuesday). Looking
in from the outside, the classrooms seemed quite large and modern, and included rooms for
pottery, art, homecraft (3 rooms), science, shop, music, and just about anything else you
could think of — including a room labelled "Deputy Head—Pastoral" (something which
would never be allowed in US public schools). There's a large exercise area, a gym which
doubles as a multi-purpose room, two large computer labs filled with rows of computers
hooked to the internet, and many other rooms and offices. One area outside the classrooms
had some missing floor tiles, but there was a sign posted which warned students about
them, as well as another sign asking kids to keep to the left when walking. Uniforms are
worn in class, but there was a poster mentioning a recent fashion show held at the school.
Passing the Nautical Studies room (a subject which no doubt comes in handy living
on an island), I reached the music room and had a peek inside. Up on the wall was the
schedule: Monday-winds, Tuesday-brass, Wednesday-strings, Thursday-chorus, Friday-pop
group — and the music terminology posted up throughout the room was of course British
terminology.
On a wall out in the hallway was a picture of a group of British Royal Marines with a
local Saint circled: "Jamestown Boy Makes Front Page News..." — as well as another nearby
poster reading "Army: Be The Best."
Meeting up with the groundskeeper near the gym/multi-purpose room (where not
only sports are played but productions are put on), he told me that as this is the only high
school on the island, the students are divided up into four "houses" (teams) to compete
against each other in sports. From the gym he then took me around the other buildings
again, opening up any classroom I wanted to have a look into and telling me a bit about the
school system on the island: school here is compulsory to age 15, and before Prince Andrew
was built, there was no schooling for kids older than 15 — but now kids can continue to age
18 (originally the school handled kids aged 12-18, but that's now been changed to 11-18,
with "first school" handling ages 5-7, "second school" handling ages 7-11, and Prince
Andrew handling ages 11-18). After spending some time looking inside the various
classrooms (including a nice, well-stocked library), I went back outside, where I talked to the
groundskeeper a bit more before thanking him for showing me around. From the large
grassy field in front of the school you can see High Knoll Fort nearby, so that's where I
decided to go next...
Driving up the hill to High Knoll Fort, I soon reached the top. While nothing special
(it's basically an old, deserted fort), there are some nice views from here — though it was
quite windy each time I peered through the openings of the fort wall to take a picture. It was
also here this morning when I realized that my camera lens was indeed broken... the
manual-focus lens would no longer focus sharply at most ranges unless it was at full-wide
or full-zoom: when most of the frame seemed focused, the focus circle in the center wasn't
aligned properly — and if it was, then the bulk of the frame seemed blurry. Damn. After
taking a few pictures as best I could with the Canon, I took one with the little Kodak
disposable bought on board the RMS before going back to the car for shelter from the wind
and drizzle. In the car, I tried to see if I could somehow fix the lens, but it was useless...
there was nothing I could do. The best I could manage was jiggling the lens a bit to make it
slightly clearer — but there was definitely something wrong, and with it being an old
manual-focus Canon FD-mount lens, I knew it would be next to impossible to find a
replacement in this part of the world (and I'd be going to Tristan da Cunha next!)
From the Fort I continued driving, soon arriving at the Boer Cemetary off to the
right... leaving the car at the side of the road, I walked through some cow pasture (where a
friendly farmer greeted me) to arrive at the graveyard. Here, the remains of many of the
Boer prisoners exiled on the island are burried, along with their names and a few
headstones. Nearby is a chapel as well, but just as I was about to walk to it, I heard the
sound of a car or truck honking its horn constantly. Fearing my car might be blocking the
road (though I thought I left enough room), I turned around to run back through the pasture
towards the car — only to find no one there (apparently the honking was for something
else... you're always supposed to toot when going around blind corners, but this had been
continous honking that had just stopped. Oh well).
Deciding to continue on in the car — tooting my own horn (an "A" and a "C" together)
around the blind curves, I tried to find the road which winds through places such as Stitch's
Ridge, Green Hill, High Ridge, and Levelwood — but many intersections aren't signed and I
kept getting lost, soon finding myself in Cason's Forest by mistake. There, a couple of locals
backpacking pointed out where I was on the map, and gave me directions for where I wanted
to go...
One thing I noticed while on St. Helena was that with only this one exception, no
local I stopped to ask directions from could show me on the map where they were. They
could recite off directions verbally to me, but seemed befuddled anytime I'd ask them to
point out on the map where we were at that moment. Perhaps it's because not everyone
owns a car, or perhaps it's because locals probably drive by rote rather than map, but it was
almost without fail that no one could show me their present position on a map.
Once back on the correct road (headed towards Sandy Bay for part of it), I wanted to
find the turnoff for Teutonic Hall, an old, run-down house that Peter, Kevin, and Cel had
talked about the last couple of days (Kevin and Cel had considered it as a place to possibly
move to, but as the house has been declared a historical site, anyone who wants to do
anything with the building must restore it to its original condition — so the current owner
has protested by letting it fall apart). However, I couldn't find the turnoff for the place, and
when I stopped to ask some men working on the road about it, they had no idea how where
the turnoff was either, with one commenting that it might just be a footpath.
Giving up on Teutonic Hall, I continued on towards Longwood, as I wanted next to
drive out to Prosperous Bay Plain (the site of the proposed airport, as it's one of the few flat
areas on the island) — however after turning off at Longwood gate, the downhill dirt road
became rough pretty fast (with stones and washout areas)... I continued down it for a bit,
but soon decided I'd better not head any further in a small 2x2 Ford Escort. At the bottom
there wasn't even enough room to turn around, so I had to back up before finding the room
to maneuver the Ford (I felt like an old pro on the stickshift by now). Before turning around
though, I got out of the car at the bottom to have a look at the area... there was some
beautiful scenery here, with even a few donkeys in the field (Mike later told me that donkeys
are actually considered government employees, and are used for jobs in places where people
won't go).
Heading back to Jamestown, I knew that the road by Gordon's Post would be closed
for road repair from 9:00am-2:00pm today (usually 9:00am-3:00pm), so at the signpost I
had to stop to figure out the proper alternate route back into town. While stopped, I noticed
a Land Rover with an SHG license plate (SHG = St. Helena Government), and asked the
driver for directions. Saying he was going that way himself, the driver told me just to follow
him — so I did, trying to keep up with him in my noisy, sputtering little Ford Escort.
Following the Land Rover I arrived back into Half Tree Hollow in the late morning.
Wanting to finally walk UP Jacob's Ladder at some point today, I decided to leave the Ford
there at the top (near the Fort and across from the construction vehicle depot), and got a lift
down to Jamestown from a local.
In Jamestown again at about 11:50am, I ran into Pat the shoeman again who
mentioned he was staying with his cousins in Seaview. Looking over at the gift shop near
the arch, I saw it was still closed, so I walked up to Solomon's Shipping Office to change
some US$ travellers checks into local currency...
There are two places on St. Helena where you can change US$ or travellers checks
into pounds: Solomon's Shipping Office, and the bank at the Castle. I decided to try out
Solomon's first, and was glad I did... inside there was almost no line, and a very friendly
lady happily changed my US$ travellers checks into St. Helenan pounds at the decent rate
of £1=US$1.56 (with her commenting that the rate for travellers checks was slightly better
than for cash — US$1=£0.64 for travellers checks, or US$1=£0.62 for cash). They charge a
1% commission on this, but it was still much better than the horrible £1=US$1.70 + 1%
commission rate offered by the RMS. When I asked about the rate, the lady mentioned that
if I wanted to wait until tomorrow, she could check at the Castle to see if it had changed any
(as they receive their rates from the Castle) — but I was just asking out of curiosity, and told
her that the 1.56 rate would be fine, giving her one US$50 travellers check to cash.
From the Shipping Office, I walked up Main Street for a bit, stopping in first at the St.
Helena Development Agency. Inside, I asked an assistant some questions, though she said
I'd need to talk to the Director for some of the answers. Asking her then about the airport,
the assistant told me a bit about the two competing proposals: both are privately-funded,
with one being from a South African businessman who wants to use smaller aircraft mostly
just for tourist flights, and the other is from a UK company called Shelco, who wants to
build a larger airport to handle both tourism and cargo. Environemtal studies were
currently being done on the various plans, and when I asked if the UK Government would
help fund an airport if it removed the need for a new RMS, she didn't know. Before leaving, I
picked up a copy of their "Guide To Investing on St. Helena" pamphlet, as well as some other
flyers.
Next, I stopped in nearby C&M's (a locally-owned chain of stores) to have a look
around. Noticing a sign mentioning they served takeaways, I discovered the little restaurant
in back, complete with tables and chairs. Ordering a cheeseburger (plain is 95p/US$1.43)
and chocolate cake (25p/38c — both were very good), I had a look inside the shop while the
food was being prepared, actually buying a few overpriced souvenirs: a red St. Helena cap
(£4.99/US$7.49), a St. Helena T-shirt (£6.99/US$10.49 — way too expensive for a collarless
T-shirt), 2 keyrings (60p/90c & 70p/US$1.05), a pen (70p/US$1.05) which later turned out
to have dried ink inside, and a plastic coaster (£1.56/US$2.34). Noticing the VISA sign, I
was going to pay for the souvenirs by credit card until I was told that there was an
additional 5% surcharge for credit card purchases — so in the end, I just used cash. When
the meal was ready I sat down to eat, with two Saints at a neighboring table chatting away.
After C&M's I decided it was time to climb Jacob's Ladder. Though partially cloudy,
it was still quite warm and hot (as well as being mid-day). Walking to the base of the ladder
(near the prison and some public toilets), I began the climb up, following the advice of locals
to swing my legs as I go. As there are almost 700 steps (699), I decided to climb in spurts of
70 at a time, resting for a bit after each group. At 350 steps up, the cement off to the side
reads "1/2 way, 350 steps"... and coming up behind me was a local man who didn't stop
once or swing his legs (though I saw most locals swing their legs on the ladder during my
stay). Though I climbed in spurts, I still managed to walk up those 699 steps pretty fast
(stopping occasionally to take a picture or two with the disposable camera), with my time to
the top being just over 15 minutes.
As I neared the top, I could suddenly hear the sound of a bugle coming from down
below — it was the Scouts returning from Scout camp! Remembering Larry telling me that
they would walk through the streets of Jamestown, I hurried to get to the top in order to
drive down and see them. Reaching the top sweating, I ran to use the payphone next to the
construction vehicle depot to call Mike up and tell him I'd be a bit late (1:30pm-2:15pm for
our appointment instead of the planned 1:15pm), then hopped in the car to drive back down
into Jamestown — only to see no Scouts around. When I asked in town about it (and later
Larry at night), I found out that due to there not being enough kids today — as well as
others needing to get ready for the funeral to take place this afternoon, they instead decided
to just drive through town in a truck blowing the bugle for a few minutes. Ah well. With
Jamestown now getting quiet (as it was a Wednesday afternoon and everything closes on
Wednesday afternoons — and people were also preparing for a 3:00pm funeral today), I
decided to head off for the radio station.
The funeral at the large St. James Church in Jamestown was for a local Saint who
had left the island to undergo cancer treatment... but when it proved ineffective, she
returned home in order to spend her last few days on St. Helena. At one time she had been
the catering officer for the RMS, and had been on the ship with all of us last week returning
home. Her son couldn't make the funeral because he was unable to get a flight to Ascension
in time to meet the RMS (the RMS could only wait 5 hours, and his son needed 10 hours to
make the connection)... this was yet another example of the hardships endured with one
way to reach the island.
On the way to the station I stopped to pick up an older man who motioned for a ride
to another part of Half Tree Hollow... but when I mentioned I was going to the station, he
insisted on staying with me to show me the way, even though he'd have to walk back or get
another lift afterwards.
Seeing Joy and Tony at the station again, I met Mike as he was getting the studio set
up (his Classical Hour show is pre-taped for airing on Sunday evenings and the following
Wednesday afternoons). Sifting through the LPs on the wall, Mike let me pick the selections
for the week, though he wanted to start with a bit of Victor Borge, as he had died while Mike
was on vacation. The selections I picked were the Mozart Eine Kleine Nachtmuzik, the Ravel
Tzigane (from the Radio Sweden collection), the Dvorak Cello Concerto with Rostropovich,
and the Gershwin Rhapsody in Blue. Before playing each selection, the two of us chatted
"on air" about things music — everything from what I do for a living to Mike bringing up that
yes, I had indeed played on the South Park movie. Off the air while one of the selections
was playing, Mike told me he had once studied viola, so for the next bit of discussion I made
sure to include some viola jokes... it was definitely a fun way to spend an hour. The show
was recorded onto a reel-to-reel tape, with LPs (and one CD) used to play the selections.
When finished, Mike said he'd be happy to make a copy of it for me, as Joy chimed in saying
she'd make sure I received it (sure enough, while back on the RMS someone informed I had
a package waiting... inside was the tapes containing the interviews with Tony and Mike).
Before leaving, I talked to Joy and some of the station staff a bit about the nicknames that
locals have on the island, and was told quite a few of them... one person is known as
"mackrel"... another (who had problems with his bowels once) is known as "blocked" — and
after Tony Leo returned from Ascension years ago, he began to be known as "Tony
Sidewinder."
At the station, I told Mike I'd give him a lift home (as he couldn't drive his red Toyota
MR2 until he started work again to pay for the insurance). On the way, he started telling me
about a place I shouldn't miss, and said he'd show it to me if I wanted — so we made a
detour and drove out to the end of the road where "Distant Cottage" and "Ball Alley" were.
Mike mentioned the small cottage was owned by Solomon's, and though there was a "no
trespassing" sign, we both jumped the fence to continue on past the property. No one was
home, though the small house did appear to be occupied occasionally, as there was a small
vegetable garden and some goats on the property. Just beyond the cottage though are some
spectacular views of Sandy Bay and White Rocks (including some beautiful multi-colored
rocks), as well as plenty of orange-and-rust colored dirt right in front of us. Some of the
island's best views and most interesting scenery can be had from here, and if you visit St.
Helena, make sure to drive out to this area for a look around.
While talking in the car on the way back, I mentioned to Mike that I was disappointed
the souvenir shop by the archway has been constantly closed, as I wanted to buy a St.
Helena sweatshirt. Saying "no problem," Mike directed me to the house of another lady just
north of the Briars who sells the sweatshirts — though the road to get to her house (opposite
Ladder Hill) is steep, with plenty of blind hilltops and curves. Parking the car and getting
out, there were some roosters walking around... my mind suddenly had thoughts of choking
a few of them until Mike interrupted my train of thought to introduce me to the lady. When
Mike introduced me as "Larry", the lady suddenly asked "you're not the one who was just on
the radio, are you?" When I answered yes, the lady told me how much she enjoyed hearing
me on the radio last night (to which Mike added that we had just pre-taped the next
Classical Hour show, and I'd be on the air again with him this Sunday). The lady had the
sweatshirts in both M and L (I opted for the M), but we tried without luck to find one of her
"Where On Earth Is St. Helena" T-shirts in M. She said she'd be getting some in soon —
probably with the next RMS sailing — but of course that wouldn't be of any help to me.
Still, the grey sweatshirt was nice (£15/US$22.50), and after talking for a while, we left to
continue on our way.
As I hadn't had a chance to see Rupert's Bay yet, Mike said he'd show it to me as
well. The area (to the left of Jamestown looking from the water) is where both the petrol
supplies for the island are offloaded as well as the location of the Argos fish factory where
the fish are frozen and stored for the next departing ship. Right by the water is a short
landing which people often jump off of to go swimming, and the area has two BBQ pits (with
some large boulders hanging precariously above on the hillside). The area in the valley
leading up to Rupert's has some homes as well as the newest church on the island: an
Anglican church which looks nothing like a church. Even though Rupert's is just down the
coast from Jamestown, there's no coastal road connecting the two — instead, you must
drive inland, and go up and down the hill.
After walking around the landing area for a bit, we hopped back in the car and
continued to drive along some more crazy St. Helena roads back to Pat Musk's place (where
Mike was staying), taking the Gordon's Post road now that construction was finished for the
day (there was still plenty of loose gravel around). Though the Gordon's Post road was
usually being closed from 9:00am-3:00pm for repair, I heard that when Ladder Hill Road
was being widened it had to be closed completely (and as one of only two main roads out of
Jamestown, must have caused considerable inconvenience).
Dropping Mike off at Pat Musk's place, I stopped the car for a minute and began to
hear the sound of water boiling... the car was overheating! Mike opened the hood to let the
boiling water out and noticed there was hardly any left (it's a good thing it overheaded here
and not in the middle of the road somewhere). It took two large containers of water to fill
up, and as I was running low on petrol also, he emptied the entire 5 litres of petrol from his
spare gas can into the tank, even though I told him I just needed a bit... very nice (a few
days later on the ship Peter mentioned he had run out of petrol this afternoon — and with it
being a Wednesday afternoon, there was no place open to get more).
While telling Mike about my camera problem earlier, he suggested I try a camera
store in Cape Town where he recently bought some supplies himself... so when finished with
the car, he took me inside to find the receipt with the phone number, showing me a bit of
the house as well (as an ex-pat teacher, he was given a room to stay in here for free... quite a
nice house, it was owned by Pat Musk, who runs a shop in Jamestown). From the house, I
also called up Kevin and Cel (who had invited me to dinner again) to let them know I'd be
starting on my way soon.
Leaving Mike (with it almost dark now), it wound up taking quite a while to get to
Half Tree Hollow, where I finally arrived at 7:20pm. There, Cel had prepared some great
macaroni and cheese, and the four of us (including James) sat down to eat, talk, and relax
(Cel and Kevin mentioned they were going to meet with some agriculture and government
officials tomorrow regarding the possibility of farming on the island).
At 8:45pm I returned back to Larry & Joy's (I was having extremely long days with
very little sleep — but I still enjoyed every minute)... when I walked in, Larry was back from
Scout camp sleeping, but Joy was up, so we talked for a while. Though it wasn't raining,
there were occasional strong gusts of wind outside, and lying down in my room a bit later, I
began to catch up on my journal and think about the day just ending...
I had done a lot of driving today in misty conditions along wet roads surrounded by
miles and miles of flax (finally driving home in the dark) — but still, the actual mileage
covered wasn't that great due to the slow speeds one must travel at.
While walking around Lonely Cottage, Mike mentioned that the Saints were among
the most patriotic people (towards Britain) he's ever met, yet the UK has paid them back by
stripping them of their citizenship (due to a blanket law meant to stem the tide of
immigration from Hong Kong) and has yet to reinstate it, even though the UK reinstated
British citizenship for residents of the Falkland Islands because of the war there (I later
commented to Larry that the surest way for Saints to get their citizenship back is for there
to be a war on St. Helena). Mike went on to mention that the UK Goverment doesn't want to
give any more than £10/US$15 million a year to support St. Helena, yet has been spending
more than £40 million (US$60 million) a MONTH on their Millennium Dome project —
something that would soon be torn down. No wonder the Saints are upset.
At 10:00pm I turned on Radio St. Helena to hear a repeat broadcast of the 8:00pm
news bulletin: St. Helena is getting £500,000 less this financial year than last year for
commercial fishing licenses, with less than 1/4th the number from last year (this is
important to the island's budget). Last year there were 48 licenses granted (4 to Japan and
44 to Taiwan), but this year there were only 12 (2 to Japan, and 10 to Taiwan) — they cost
£13,000/US$19,500 for Taiwan (for use off of Ascension waters only), and
£11,000/US$16,500 for Japan (off Ascension or St. Helena), with the agreements differing
slightly between the two countries. For both, no fishing is allowed less than 12 miles from
St. Helena, and though there are 6 more yet-uncompleted licenses pending for Taiwan, the
amount is still much less than in previous years... there was more RMS news: cabin bags for
those leaving on the RMS would need to be out by 8:00am on Friday, and there would be 52
passengers arriving from Ascension, along with 48 bags of mail (there is no real mail
"delivery" on the island... though I saw some red Royal Mail trucks, they basically supply the
sub post offices, and most people must go to one of the post offices to collect their mail —
only if their mail isn't picked up after quite a while is it sometimes delivered apparently)... it
was reported that the Scout camp which lasted from Jan. 3 - Jan. 10 was finished...
tomorrow night (at the same time I'd be presenting the violin to the kids) there'd be a
meeting to discuss proposals for the RMS' schedule during the 500th anniversary of the
island in May 2002 before finalizing it... the eclipse of the moon last night was mentioned,
along with the fact that it wasn't visible in most places due to the clouds (with the
announcer commenting that some people call this bad luck "Napoleon's Curse")...
After the news it was time for the announcements and advertisements again: an
optician would be visiting the island for a shot time in February — phone up a local number
now to make an appointment by Jan. 26... Family Planning Services schedules were
announced... the Jamestown pool will be open evenings from Jan. 16 (Tuesday and
Thursday from 7:30pm-9:30pm — adults only — and Wednesday from 7:30pm-9:30pm for
adults and children)... a pastor on the island is conducting an annonymous questionaire for
Saints relating to changes on the island over the past 10 years... a charge hand gardener at
Plantation House is needed... there was a listing of the times of various music groups
playing at the different discos this upcoming weekend... more cars being advertised for sale
(with the years never given): a Ford Capri 1600cc insured until July for £1,850/US$2,775 or
next offer... and finally the broadcast once again ended with a religious epilogue.
Misc. info: While staying with Larry & Joy, they would usually lock the door when
going out but always kept the windows open, showing me where the key would be waiting if
I needed to enter. Crime is very low on St. Helena, and the island lifestyle reflects that.
Jan. 11: St. Helena [Jamestown / Prison / Young Musicians]
Though I slept more last night than I had the last few days, I was still up by
5:00am... and at 6:30am, I began doing some initial packing to see if I'd be able to fit
everything into my bag now that I had T-shirts and other items to bring back from St.
Helena.
Over a light breakfast (cereal and yoghurt from the Spar) I talked to Joy and Larry for
a bit... airplanes don't fly over St. Helena much — Joy mentioned that she usually hears one
flying overhead about twice a week, and will often run outside to see if she can spot it) —
and Larry added that during the Falklands war, planes were flying overhead all the time...
there are no earthquakes on St. Helena... while it rains often on the island, Larry said it was
rare to see lightning or hear thunder.
Returning to talk of the Falklands war, Larry said that as the RMS of the time was
appropriated for use in the war, another vessel had to be provided to supply the island with
cargo — and mail for the island would often be dropped by parachute from a passing plane.
Now, mail to/from St. Helena goes either through South Africa (via the RMS to Cape Town)
or through the UK (via the RMS to Ascension, then onto the UK). When international mail
arrives on St. Helena, it's generally held for the recipients, and people will wait in queue at
the post office to collect their mail — though if it hasn't been collected after a few days, it
will often be delivered. Inter-island mail gets delivered sometimes as well, though many
locals also have post office boxes.
There are no numbers displayed on any of the houses on St. Helena, and with the
exception of a few major roads, streets rarely have names (let alone signs displaying those
names) — so if you were trying to find "100 Half Tree Hollow" on your own, you'd be out of
luck. Fortunately, there were markers to help me find Larry & Joy's house at the end of
each day: driving up Ladder Hill Road into Half Tree Hollow, I'd stay on the same road until I
came to an orange trash bin on a pole — at which point I'd turn right onto a small side-
street. Then continuing down this unnamed (or at least unmarked) street, I'd turn right at
the small intersection with the "Give Way" sign — before continuing on and making a right
onto the property.
While talking with Larry and Joy, I heard the sound of the fish truck in the
distance... this morning was its scheduled run to the Half Tree Hollow area, and with the
"William Tell Overture" blaring from its speaker (just like an ice-cream truck), it slowly
cruised the streets of Half Tree Hollow as anyone who wanted to purchase fresh St. Helena
fish came out to meet it. While walking around the area later, I met up with the truck and
its driver as a local lady was buying some fish... the driver told me there was only the one
truck, and while today would be his only day in Half Tree Hollow this week, next week he'd
be coming here twice. The fish is wrapped in celophane just as you'd find it at the local
supermarket, with the weight, price-per-pound, and total cost clearly marked (today, there
was plenty of fresh tuna and wahoo, all caught yesterday). Local fishermen catch the fish
and sell it to the co-op, who operate the truck and sell the fish to the public for just a bit
more money (to cover the cost of running the truck and driving it around the island).
This morning was cloudy, but still hot and humid. As I had skipped much of
Jamestown over the last few days in favor of exploring other parts of the island, I decided to
set aside most of today to see Jamestown. Leaving the car at the house for the time being, I
headed for Ladder Hill Fort on foot. On the way, Eric George's wife Ivy passed me in her car
and stopped to chat for a bit, telling me they were still trying to find a copy of Eric's book of
St. Helena songs to give me. While we chatted, two other cars came up behind Ivy — but
instead of passing her (even though there was plenty of space to do so), they were content to
just sit and wait until we were done chatting. Such is St. Helena life.
At Ladder Hill Fort, I had a look at the old guns which look out over the sea (now with
grafitti on them — about the only place on the island I noticed some), as well as the small,
well-kept building at the top flying the British flag. Earlier from his porch, Larry had
pointed out a wall in the Fort compound, telling me it's used for rifle target practice once a
year.
At the top of Ladder Hill Road and Jacob's Ladder I noticed some interesting signs:
for Ladder Hill Road, there was a sign displaying the 15mph speed limit, as well as another
which indicated "no bicycles" (though I'm sure at least a few kids have tried to go down it on
bikes through the years). At the top of Jacob's Ladder was a sign telling a bit of information
about the staircase: there are 699 steps, each approximately 11 inches high, with a 602ft
rise from sea level. The original inclined plane was built by the St. Helena Railroad
Company in 1829 as a funicular, and was converted to steps in 1871 by the Royal
Engineers.
Going down Jacob's Ladder took exactly 5 minutes this morning, and once at the
bottom, I noticed the shop by the archway was finally open. Stepping inside, I discovered
the shop was quite expensive for souvenirs, but nonetheless bought myself a medium
"Where On Earth Is St. Helena" T-shirt for £9.50/US$14.25. I also purchased another St.
Helena cap (£6.50/US$9.75), as well as some extremely good (and cheap) chocolate peanut
clusters for 10p/15c each. While looking inside the shop, some locals came in to buy
snacks and were chatting about various things... one of them had a cold, and I was trying
hard not to stand close to him, especially as I had been exerting myself with very little sleep
over the past week.
Walking over to the Castle, I met up with Pat & Morris, who told me I needed to have
my passport stamped at the police station before boarding the RMS tomorrow — preferably
getting it done sometime today (those staying at the Consulate Hotel were notified about
this, though no one had told me until now). Since I was right there, I walked into the
station to have my passport stamped for exit tomorrow (no charge — with the year now
correctly changed to 2001), and while inside, I asked how large the police force is on St.
Helena: there are a total of 32 police island-wide, which includes 12 at the prison as well as
those in the three smaller stations on the island.
Outside the police station, I had a look around the other parts of the large, white
Castle complex (built in 1708 according to the sign): just about all government offices are
located here, including the Government Printing Office, Cashier, and the Finance Ministry.
Inside the main building and up an old wooden flight of stairs was the Legislative Council
room and the Governor's office — though unfortunately, both doors were locked when I tried
them.
The island Archives are housed in the Castle as well, so I went in for a look:
contained inside are original books from as early as 1673 that you can actually hold in your
hand and examine... I flipped through one labelled "Saint Helena Constitution, Laws, and
Instructions, 1673-1714" (an old hand-written book with a warning stuck on it indicating it
had been preserved with mercury chloride, a poisonous substance). Some of the many
chapters in this book were: "East Indian Company Laws", "Abridgement of King's Charter",
"First Commission after Retaking the Islands", "Rules for Settling Land, London, 20th Feb.
1677", "System of Laws and Constitutions", and "Orders of Ship." Another book I picked up
was titled "Letters to England from Goodwin, 1673-1707" — and there were dozens of such
books, relating everything from island births and deaths to shipping information throughout
the years.
Needing to cash one more travellers check, I went next to the Castle bank, only to
find a line... so I decided to go back to Solomon's Shipping Office instead (as the rate would
be the same). At Solomon's, I cashed the US$50 travellers check (at the same rate as the
other day) and smiled as the cashier greeted the one customer in front of me not by saying
"hello, sir" but rather "hello, Eric."
From Solomon's I went to the post office to buy some commemorative stamp sets,
telephone cards, and a set of new St. Helena coins in a bag — and was disappointed to learn
that the post office tacks on a 6% surcharge for credit card transactions (I bit the bullet and
put everything on Visa).
Next, I used the phone in front of the post office to make some calls to the camera
shop in Cape Town that Mike had recommended (Shap's Cameraland) to see if they might
have any new or used lenses that would fit onto my camera. As a telephone card gets eaten
up extremely fast on overseas calls, the lady at Shap's said she'd phone me back (even when
I told her it was overseas) — but after waiting for quite some time, the call was never
returned. This meant I had to buy more telephone cards in order to call back — so hoping
that Cable & Wireless might have cards with different pictures on them, I walked into the
C&W office across the street — though they only had the same 4 cards everyone else did.
Asking if I could place a call from the C&W office itself (as in many countries you can place
calls from the telephone company), I was told they don't offer that service — which meant I
had to buy more phone cards even though I didn't know how many I'd need. Noticing some
C&W merchandise for sale, I bought myself a 100th anniversary 1999 C&W T-shirt
(£3/US$4.50) on top of the telephone cards... when I asked if I could put the items on Visa, I
was told there'd be a 5% surcharge — though in the end, the lady charged me only 2.5% (for
those of you confused about the credit card surcharges, here's how it stood when I was on
the island: the Spar was the only establishment I found not to asses a surcharge on credit
cards — a nice thing to know... the Consulate Hotel's surcharge was the highest, at 7% —
something James wasn't too happy about... the post office was 6%... C&M's was 5%... and
while I could have sworn the C&W lady told me the surcharge would be 5%, she only
charged me 2.5%, writing 2.5% on the receipt as well).
Coming out of Cable & Wireless, I decided to stop in at Brown's Video Rental to
inquire about the key needed to open the St. Helena Museum, as the museum would be
closed until Friday, but Cel heard that the lady who keeps the key works at the video shop,
and sometimes lets people borrow it if the museum is closed. Asking about the key, I was
told that because the RMS would be leaving tomorrow, someone had already gone to the
museum to open it up — so I quickly scooted over there for a look.
The St. Helena museum contains plenty of items from the island's past, including old
sea equipment, pictures, bottles and antique telephones (my favorite). Above the museum in
the same building are the offices of the St. Helena News... so after looking around
downstairs, I walked up to give my compliments to the fine job the news staff does both with
the weekly paper and the website (as each week's paper is placed online for anyone in the
world to download, at: http://www.news.co.sh). Knowing that the paper comes out on
Fridays but that the RMS would be leaving in the morning, I asked what time of day the
paper is distributed... the young lady there said usually by 10:00am — but that was when
embarkation was to start for the RMS. When I asked if it might be possible to buy a copy
beforehand, she said if they were done in time it'd be ok — I should drop by tomorrow at
9:30am and she'd try to hold one for me (they don't usually supply the RMS with copies —
the recent holiday issue available on the outbound voyage was an exception, and I felt that a
paper covering the week I was on the island would make a great souvenir).
For lunch today, I went back to C&M's for an egg salad sandwich (40p/60c) and
another good cheeseburger (for some reason they only charged me 85p/US$1.28 today
instead of the 95p I was charged yesterday). In C&M's shop I bought another pen — this
time asking to test it first, telling the cashier that the ink in the pen I bought yesterday had
dried. She offered to refund my money if I brought the pen back, but it was all the way back
at the house and wasn't worth the hassle.
After lunch (and with some new phone cards from C&W), I gave Shaps Cameraland
another call... the lady on the other end told me she had tried to ring me back but received
only a series of beeps. At any rate, I was told that they had only a used 35-105mm lens for
R1,250/US$159. Still, I had them set it aside for me, also asking them to hold anything
else close to what I was looking for that might come in, saying I'd be in on the 17th around
closing time (they're located on Long Street in downtown Cape Town). Though I hated to do
it, I also called and left a message on Russell's answering machine telling him what had
happened, and asking (if he had the time) to phone a few area camera shops to see if he
might be able to track down a lens for me as well, as I'd only have a few hours in Cape Town
in which to find and buy a replacement.
Finished with the calls for now, I went back to Solomon's Souvenir Shop to buy a
keyring (£3.50/US$5.25), and thought about buying some of the books they had for sale
(including one on St. Helena cooking) — but in the end, decided against it.
Having seen much of Jamestown by this point, I considered taking a walk, as
yesterday Morris mentioned he had walked all the way from Longwood to Jamestown (5
miles, though all downhill). I thought I'd give it a try as well, but first I'd have to find a way
to get to Longwood (as if I drove there, I'd have to find some way to get back to the car later
on). Walking up the street, I stopped in at the Consulate Hotel to use the loo in the bar, but
my mini "Pooh" notebook (which I had been using to jot down notes into) fell out of my shirt
pocket into the toilet tank! All wet now, I'd have to dry it out later that evening in order to
read my notes, but it wouldn't be of much use after tonight (thankfully I had a spare).
Stopping in at the Tourist Office to say a quick "thank you", I ran into Kevin outside.
Not wanting to carry a heavy camera around with me on a walk (especially with the lens not
working right), I asked if I could leave the camera in their car (he replied "sure, it's parked
by the police station, unlocked... just put it in the boot.") Walking down to the car, I placed
my camera, the notebook, and a few other things inside the unlocked vehicle — but by now
the sun had started to come out (a rarity this week), and with the heat, I was having second
thoughts about the walk.
Suddenly the streets of Jamestown seemed to swell with people — the RMS had just
docked, and the town was instantly full of life... Saints went down to greet friends and
family, and passengers from Ascension were now walking through the streets as well. With
the sudden change of mood in town, I decided to stay in the area and not go for the long
walk. Looking up at the sky, even though the sun was out over Jamestown, it appeared
other areas of the island still had clouds.
Instead of walking around Longwood, I spent some time walking up and down the
streets of Jamestown again (though further up), taking pictures with my disposable Kodak
camera before heading to Ann's Place for ice-cream and soda in the shade. There I joined
Peter in chatting with a young reporter for the St. Helena News named Gary, who seemed to
think the island wouldn't change much even with an airport. When Peter asked Gary how
he got started as a reporter, Gary said that while journalism isn't offered in school, he's
always liked to write... so somehow he just ended up working for the St. Helena News. He
commented that there often isn't a lot to cover on the island, and tries to plan what to write
a week ahead in case nothing happens. Though the St. Helena News is controlled by a news
board overseen and funded by the government, it is independent (as its coverage has
shown), and the weekly paper (available throughout the island) costs only 15p/23c (note: in
June 2001, the St. Helena News changed its name, and is now known as the St. Helena
Herald).
When Gary left, Peter gave me a few other suggestions on camera shops in Cape
Town to try — so I bought more telephone cards (from Ann, as they're the same price
anywhere on the island) and made more calls — only to have no luck at all with any of the
three new places.
At this point I suddenly remembered that I hadn't seen the prison yet, and wondered
if such visits by the general public were allowed. Walking up to speak to one of the two
guards on duty there, I was told that I first needed to get permission from the Chief of Police
across the street — so I walked over to the police station to get my permission. The Chief
wasn't around, but the lady behind the desk called someone else who OKed the visit, and in
turn called the prison to let them know I had received permission.
Back at the prison I once again met the two guards on duty: Lionel Jonas and
Raymond Crowie. Lionel would be my guide through the prison compound, and was
extremely nice, answering any and all questions I had no matter how trivial.
There were currently 3 inmates at the prison (all men), and they were quite friendly
as we walked through the jail. We first visited the men's side, where the cels open up to a
general living room area with a computer system and printer (no internet, but games and
educational software — one of the inmates was playing solitaire on it), TV, VCR, goldfish
tank, and signs up on the wall stressing a positive attitude. As well, artwork created by the
inmates was displayed on the walls, and some of it was quite impressive (when I asked one
of them if he created any of the art hanging on the walls, he replied that did two of them,
and pointed them out to me). Next we went upstairs (where the staff relaxes, works, and
cooks meals) before going into the female area (now empty — Lionel mentioned it's rare to
have a female prisoner). Downstairs was a nice gym, complete with an exercise bike and a
treadmill (probably the only one in 2,000 miles!) Passing a few bikes, Lionel mentioned that
the prisoners buy them to work on, fix them up, then keep or sell them. There's a buzzer in
each cel which rings on a switchboard if an inmate needs anything, and there are at least 2
guards on call 24hrs a day. Down below where the old cels used to be, the area has been
converted into a workshop, complete with woodworking tools and plenty of sawdust on the
ground (Lionel teaches the inmates woodworking, and showed me some of the wood they
use). There's also a pig farm out of town where some of the prisoners can work if they have
permission, but it all depends on your clearance level...
New prisoners start out at "A" level (where you must stay inside the prison), but
approximately every 4 months your behavior is reviewed... if you've been good, your status
can be upgraded to "B"... then "C", and finally "D." Prisoners with a "C" status are allowed
to leave the prison for supervised work outside, and those with "D" status can leave for
unsupervised work — but if you do something bad or stupid, your status can be bumped
back up to "B" or "A", and all such privileges revoked (if inmates leave the prison to work,
any money they earn is paid to them by their employer).
When the tour was finished we returned to the front entrance, where I talked to
Lionel and Raymond for a bit. Asking permission, I took their picture (no problem as long as
it faced the wall and not the inside of the prison — as one of the stipulations of taking the
tour was no pictures or sketching inside), and though I had the intention of sending it to
them later, the picture (with my non-flash Kodak disposable) came out way too dark. When
Raymond asked my name and what I did, he said "Oh, you're the one on the radio the other
day... I heard you! I play the violin too!" (and Lionel plays the harmonica). Seeing that I had
been quite curious about the prison and the British penal code, without my even asking
they then took out a lot of miscellaneous items to show me, from blank inmate booking
forms to the clips and containers used to store the belongings of overnight prisoners. Talk
then turned to other subjects as well, and the three of us chatted for quite a while until it
was time for me to leave. Very friendly guys, I felt bad that the picture I took of them hadn't
turned out, so upon returning home I sent them a postcard of California instead.
Needing to be back in Half Tree Hollow before 5:00pm in order to put petrol in the car
(as the Half Tree Hollow Spar closes at 5:00pm), I made a quick stop in at the Jamestown
Spar to buy a small Spar-brand juice box of 100% orange juice (you can't find that in the
South African Spars!) Then it was time to climb Jacob's Ladder again... going up in groups
of 70 steps, it took me only 14 minutes this afternoon.
Resting at the top, I realized my climb wasn't over — the hardest thing about
climbing Jacob's Ladder isn't the climb to the top, but the realization that once you've
reached the top you then have to continue walking uphill to get to where the houses are
(and Larry & Joy's place was located right in the middle of Half Tree Hollow). Continuing on,
I passed the Flaggs' place on the left where Kevin and Cel were staying, dropping by for
about 10 seconds to say hello (Kevin was watching cricket).
Soon I was back at Larry & Joy's, but when I walked in the door Larry told me he had
put some petrol in for me already, as he had used the car for part of the time (very nice of
him, and typical island behavior). Still, not being sure if there was enough petrol in it (as it
was supposed to be returned half-full) — and wanting to get a cold soda and some snacks
anyway, I decided to make the short trip to the Spar. Asking Joy if I could bring her back
anything (especially as she was nice enough to do some of my laundry when doing Larry's
after his return from Scout camp), she replied perhaps just a soda for dinner... so I hopped
in the car and drove to the nearby Spar. There, I put in £3/US$4.50 worth of petrol, but
indeed it wasn't realy necessary, as the tank was now almost 3/4ths full. Inside, I picked
up four sodas for Joy, as well as some snacks and a soda for myself. Though the Half Tree
Hollow Spar isn't as large as the Jamestown location, it's pretty nice in its own right, with
the only thing missing up here being those orange Club bars. Looking at the odometer, not
even 120 miles had been put on the car this past week, with both Larry and I using it on
varying days.
Returning back to the house, I sat down in the bedroom to write in my journal until
6:15pm, when it was time to shower and get ready for the evening. Joy served an absolutely
wonderful dinner of tuna fishcakes, fish curry, and rice — and when I asked her the
difference between curry and pilau, she told me it's curry if the rice is prepared separately,
and pilau if it's all mixed together.
At 7:15pm I put the violin in the car and drove the three of us down to the Baptist
Chapel to meet some of the Young Musicians. Upon arriving, Eric George asked if I would
play a little bit for the kids before presenting the violin, so I agreed. Some people there I
already knew, including Raymond from the Scout camp (his son was in the orchestra), but I
also met some others, including Steve Terry (the temporary ex-pat dentist who was on the
island relieveing the normal dentist now on vacation). Steve was an amateur violinist, and
brought his violin that evening as well... it was a good thing too, for as I started rosining the
bow, the super-glue failed and the bow broke again (luckily Steve had a spare bow with him
in his case, and let me borrow it). Standing up, I introduced myself to the kids, and after
answering some of Eric's questions (meant for the young ears in the audience), I began
playing the Meditation from Thais and a bit of the 3rd movement of Mozart's Violin Concerto
No. 3 (answering more of Eric's questions, and talking a bit to the kids between numbers).
As Steve had brought a book of Playl duets with him, I convinced him to come up and join
me on stage — though he requested I play the 2nd violin part, as it was actually the harder
of the two (with double-stops). After a few duets, I played a bit more by myself (the first page
of Paganini Moto Perpetuo, and a different solo Bach than I had played on the radio) before
returning to some more duets with Steve.
Once the performances were done it was time for the presentation, and I wound up
meeting the young girl who was the current violinist in the orchestra (Roxanne... perhaps
14?) Posing for a picture together, the lady taking the shot couldn't get the flash on the
digital camera to work, so she wound up using her old 35mm standby instead. All in all I'm
a pretty casual guy, and really hated having all this fuss made about something as simple
as donating a violin... but I did enjoy talking with the kids and playing for them, and really
did have a nice evening. As most of the kids were leaving, one little tot (about 5 years old)
came by to look at the violin... as I was about his age when I first saw a violin, I let him
pluck the strings and play with it for a bit... though it was too big for him, he really liked it
— and perhaps in a few years he'd be another member of the Young Musicians. As for the
bow, I promised Eric that I'd send him another one as soon as I returned home — and a few
months later, I received an email from Eric letting me know that not only had the new bow
arrived, but that they were also able to fix the old one to use as a spare.
When the ceremony was finished, Eric invited us all out for a drink at the Consulate
Hotel (Eric, his wife Ivy, myself, Larry, Joy, Dougie, Steve, and Steve's wife — who was
another Bitter Lemon fan). We all had a nice time talking about everything from music to
the RMS, and left only when the hotel started to turn out its lights downstairs at 10:30pm.
When I mentioned I had never used my computer to print music, Eric told me how easy it
was, and invited me up to his place to show me what he can do. Once outside though, I
noticed that Jacob's Ladder was once again lit (now that the RMS was in port), and I wanted
to climb it at night now that the lights were on. Telling Eric, Ivy, Larry, and Joy that I'd
meet them at the top in about 15 minutes, I started up the Ladder, enjoying the climb at
night immensely (especially with all the lights of Jamestown below).
As I neared the top, the group of four were there waiting for me (Larry drove the car
up), greeting me as I reached the top step. At that point we all crammed into the car, and
with Larry driving, headed off towards Eric's place in the Sapper Way/New Ground Camp
area, further out past Half Tree Hollow.
It was about 11:00pm by the time we reached Eric's house, and he immediately sat
me down next to his computer to show me what it could do. Using Windows 3.1, he writes
and arranges music for most of the groups on the island with it, then prints everything out
on his laser printer. Showing me how he enters a tune from scratch using his MIDI
keyboard, he then assigns each voice an instrument in order to hear the approximate sound
on the computer before printing everything out (and demonstrated by writing a little piece he
called "The Two Larrys" on the spur of the moment... when he was finished, he printed out
the page, autographed it, and presented it to me). Though very happy about being able to
work with kids, he did lament the fact that the young people on the island usually grow up
and leave (often to work on Ascension), and he's always having to start over again — yet
that's the lot in life for a youth orchestra instructor, and he keeps on going full steam ahead.
At one point a few years ago, he had arranged the entire musical "Annie" for the instruments
and players available on the island from the piano score (for a production at Prince Andrew
school) — and said he charged only a nominal fee for spending the hours upon hours it took
to complete (he still had all the numbers in the computer, and played me some of them —
and there were plenty... it wasn't just the main songs he arranged, but the entire score). An
amazing fellow, he was basically self-taught (having been instructed only in piano), and can
play most instruments at least a little. Showing me all he does on the computer, his love for
both music and kids really made itself obvious, and it was a real joy to sit back and watch
him proudly show me what he does everyday. Finally it was time to call it a night at
12:20am (by this point Larry had fallen asleep on the couch, while Joy and Ivy were busy
talking about various things) — and had I not been so tired myself, both Eric and I could
easily have continued on until dawn, for I really enjoyed meeting and talking with him.
I volunteered to drive back that night, but the day didn't end at 12:40am when we
arrived back at the house... alone in the bedroom, I then needed to finish my journal for the
day, and didn't turn out the lights until 1:45am. Though it was an extremely long day, it
certainly was a most enjoyable one.
Misc. info: while waiting for the lady from the camera shop to call me back, I had a
look at the island's phone book — and was surprised to see separate areas for both FAX and
email listings inside.
Jan. 12: St. Helena / RMS
Having turned in at 1:45am, I didn't manage much sleep by the time I got out of bed
at 6:30am... but I didn't care... it was my last night on St. Helena, and I'd have plenty of
time to doze on the RMS during the slow voyage back to Cape Town.
Walking outside at 6:30am, I hung around the house for a while until Larry and Joy
woke up. Having a nice chat, Larry reconfirmed what Mike had earlier told me on board the
RMS: that country music is the most popular style on the island (Larry himself plays drums
in a small group which performs in various pubs each Saturday night). While Larry was
setting the trash out to be picked up, I saw the garbage truck in the distance: on its side
was a sign reading "Chuck 'N Chew." Asking Joy if the street they lived on had a name, she
replied "no... everyone just knows where everyone lives." There's an RMS schedule sheet in
just about every Saint home, and Larry & Joy's was no exception (hanging right in the
kitchen) — little wonder, as those important dates tell the Saints not only when loved ones
will be arriving, but mail, fresh fruit, and everything else they must be supplied with.
It was time to pay Larry & Joy for the accomodations they had provided me for the
week, as well as for the car rental (as they would return the car and forward the money to
Patsy for me). Joy only wanted to accept about half of the proper amount for the car, saying
that they had used it on the days I hadn't — but I insisted on paying the full amount
(£70/US$105 for the week), as it was my decision to rent the car. I also felt that the £70 (for
a week's accomodation) wasn't enough with all the extra things they had done for me
(everything from cooking meals and packing lunches to inviting me along with them to the
Scout camp) — and I wanted to leave more. Joy wouldn't hear of it, but finally I gave her
£150 total (telling her to take at least £80 for the accomodations, as I pointed out not only
the food, but that Larry had put petrol in the car yesterday as well). Both Larry and Joy
were extremely friendly, and took me in as part of their life for a week... I couldn't have
found a better place to stay while on St. Helena.
Over breakfast, I copied down the fishcake recipie (to try at home) from two St.
Helena cookbooks Joy had in the kitchen, and at 7:45am it was time for the three of us to
head down into town (as cabin bags for the RMS were supposed to be dropped off by
8:00am). On the way, I left Joy off at the Hospital (no work today, but she wanted to leave
off some flowers), before continuing on with Larry all the way to the end of the docks (past
the customs shed), where large containers filled with cabin baggage were waiting to be lifted
onto the RMS by the crane.
Now that the bags were taken care of, I had about two hours left to look around
Jamestown. As Larry and I split up for a bit (he went to find Joy), I walked into the post
office at 8:30am — only to find a huge queue of people waiting on the left side to pick up
mail the RMS had just delivered (as each person reached the front of the line, the lady
behind the counter would go in back to see what mail or packages had come for them... she
didn't even have to ask their name — she already knew everyone). With all the staff now on
the left side helping with the mail, the philatelic (right) side of the post office was quiet... but
after a few minutes, someone came by and noticed me, and I bought another set of newly-
minted St. Helena coins in a pouch, as well as two copies of the small "St. Helena in Figures
1999" pamphlet.
From the post office, I spent the first part of the morning having a last look inside
some of the town's shops (in the window of one was a sign advertising a dance on Jan. 20th
to help with overseas music tuition). After buying a small souvenir from Solomon's, I
realized I should get another fine-tip pen (for writing in the journal) in case the pens I had
ran out of ink — but looking around town, no one seemed to sell fine-tip ballpoint pens (only
medium tip). Finally, someone suggested trying the Emporium (a shop which sells general
hardware supplies), and sure enough, I found a fine-tip ballpoint there for 30p/45c.
Returning to the post office to buy another postcard and stamp, I noticed a sign advertising
special new weekend rates for calls to countries other than the UK or South Africa (which
are cheaper): the new "cheap" weekend rate for most countries was £1.50/US$2.25 per
minute (from my perspective, it currently costs only 7c/min for calls from the US to Hong
Kong, and about 55c for calls from the US to St. Helena).
At 9:15am I stopped in at the St. Helena News to see if this week's paper was ready
yet. Unfortunately not only was it not ready, but they hadn't even sent it to the printer's yet
— a fellow was still working on a computer to finish the back sports page. Buying an old
paper from a few weeks ago (so I'd at least have something to read), I asked if it'd be possible
for someone to send me this week's in the mail (I left £1 to cover any costs, as the paper is
15p). The lady told me to write my name and address down, but for quite some time after
returning home, nothing ever came. Then in the middle of June (a full five months later), I
received a package with the January 12th St. Helena News in it, along with a small note
apologizing for the delay.
Having just a little bit of time left, I decided to walk up some of the smaller streets of
Jamestown that I had missed before (finding a building with the humorous sign "Press For
Percy" next to the bell). Back in the heart of town, I met up with Mike, who apologized for
not yet running off a copy of the show for me, but thought that someone else might have
aleady taken care of it — and if not, I was to email him upon returning home. Suddenly, I
heard my name being called, and saw Larry coming up to me holding a package he needed
to deliver to the large general-merchandise store near the prison. As I hadn't yet been inside
this shop, I decided to go with him, and spent some time looking around inside while Larry
chatted with the clerk (outside, I could see Lionel at the prison as he waved a friendly hello
over to me). Seeing all the cars in town today, I was again reminded of the great mix of
vehicles the island has: everything from 1960s British Minis to a 1980s Yugo to a new
Suzuki jeep... I even saw the Governor's car (with just a crown for a license plate) drive by
the other day.
Soon it was time to head to the water, where a good number of people were already
gathered to say their goodbyes. Meeting Joy again, she presented me with a bag of presents:
a St. Helena cookbook and apron, accompanied by a nice note. Thanking her, the three of
us talked for a while, as I also said goodbye to others I had met on the island, from Eric
Benjamin to some of the parents I had met at the Scout camp.
Mike then came by and he introduced me to one of the priests on the island (someone
I'm told drinks and swears nothing like a priest should). As the subject of the prison came
up, Mike related the story of one prisoner to me: apparently, there's a local Saint named Mr.
Polly who keeps escaping from prison whenever a magistrate is about to visit the island... he
was convicted of arson, and is upset not because he was found guilty, but because he has to
spend time in jail while his fellow accomplice (who is the brother of the 2nd Chief of Police)
got off (at least that's the way he sees it). So everytime the magistrate comes to the island,
he escapes up into the hills, coming back down as soon as the magistrate leaves. The police
saw him go once, but didn't want to follow him up the hillside (as they know he'll always
return once the magistrate leaves). There was another prisoner who did manage to escape
the island though: a foreigner who arrived on a yacht with drugs on board escaped by
stealing another yacht, so his original boat still sits in the Jamestown harbor today. While
talking about the prison, Larry corroborated what I had earlier heard from others: that the
real sentence on the island for a prisoner isn't the jail term, but the stigma one has from
having been jailed — and having a prison record might deny you the opportunity for good
work overseas (such as on Ascension).
Standing and talking with Larry, Joy, and Mike by the water there, I watched as the
crowds slowly diminished, with most taking the shuttle bus the short distance out to the
launches. With a few other RMS passengers still in the area though (such as Linda and Len
— the Scotish vet and her English fiance who were to get married on St. Helena), I figured I
was still safe. Finally, Joy mentioned that while she wished I didn't have to leave, it might
be time for me to go — and as I pointed to the others, Mike reminded me that they would be
staying on St. Helena for five weeks. Uh-oh! After a quick final goodbye, I half-ran towards
the landing (as the last bus had already left), and made it just in time to be loaded onto the
final launch out to the RMS.
The water was now calmer around the harbor, and looking back at Jamestown, the
sun was starting to peer through the otherwise cloudy sky (though it was still quite warm).
On board the RMS, this was the segment where Curnow had screwed up and given
someone else cabin C49... my new cabin was C43 (also a two-person cabin, but without a
porthole, and more cramped than C49). Without a porthole, there was no area underneath
for the person on the top bunk to place his things, but in the end my new bunkmake Ken
wound up taking the top bunk first (I didn't mind... it would be a change). Ken was a young
Brit who had visited St. Helena to study the birds and ecology of the island, yet seemed to
spend each night on the ship at the bar, and the days sleeping the drinks off in the cabin.
Still, he was nice enough, and though he snored, at least he didn't smoke.
Out on the sun deck of the RMS once more, it was as if we were still on that first
RMS segment, with our usual group back together again, sitting out and talking about our
experiences on the island. Pat/SA was back after having sailed to Ascension (as was Fritz
and his friend), but while Fritz got off the ship to take a short 3-hour island tour, Pat
decided just to stay on the boat and relax.
Chatting with some other RMS passengers, we also caught up with Wendy, a lady in
her late 30s from the UK whose birth mother was a Saint. Given up for adoption at 3 years
of age, she never knew where she was from or who her real mother was until recently, and
had never even heard of St. Helena before she started researching her past. When she
managed to find out where she was from, she wrote her relatives on the island... her mother
didn't reply, but her aunt did, and invited Wendy to visit. With no idea of what to expect,
Wendy sailed with us aboard the RMS and stayed the week on St. Helena. In the end her
mother still didn't want to meet with her, but Wendy had a fantastic time on the island
meeting her aunt and all her other relatives (who urged her to come visit again anytime she
wanted) — and seemed quite happy not only to finally know about her past, but to know all
the relatives she has on St. Helena.
Besides most of the outbound passengers returning and a few new Saints aboard,
there were two other passengers of note now on the RMS: the Governor and his wife (in
cabin B-36). Because of the RMS breakdown last year, the Governor was unable to visit
Tristan da Cunha for his official duties, so was making the trip this year. He and his wife
would be on board the RMS for the journey back to Cape Town, then to Tristan and back,
and over the course of the next few weeks, I'd have a chance to talk and meet with both of
them.
Without much wait (as I was with the last group to board the RMS), the ship blew its
horn and slowly started to leave. Captain Roberts sailed the ship past Jamestown, Half Tree
Hollow, and a bit further in order to give us all one last look at St. Helena before sailing off
into the open water. Once away from the island, the skies were pure blue, with St. Helena's
fading shape the only spot with clouds over it.
It was soon announced that the ship's clocks would immediately be advanced by an
hour — so 2:00pm suddenly became 3:00pm. At 5:30pm (4:30pm island time), I could still
pick up Radio St. Helena out on deck, catching a bit of the 5:00pm (4:00pm) BBC relay from
the station.
On selected days, classical music would be pumped out onto the sun deck in the late
afternoons (usually close to sunset time)... today's printed program had a humorous
mistake: instead of the "Bruch Violin Concerto", the selection was listed as the "Brunch
Violin Concerto."
For dinner seating this segment, we were now all officially at Table 16 (the large
round table which we had "requisitioned" during the outbound segment)... as the Captain's
table for the second sitting, it would also be the Governor's table as well now that he was on
board. Tonight service was a bit slow, and we weren't quite finished with the meal at
7:55pm (at which point the waiters get nervous if you haven't left yet). Though James had
asked for dessert, they still hadn't brought it — and when they finally did, he was adamant
about not gulping it down. Kevin was adamant too that we wouldn't be rushed, and we all
stayed with James as he ate his dessert past 8:00pm, even as the hotel officer peered his
head in to find out why the 8:00pm sitting hadn't been called to dinner yet. I know that the
staff had done us a favor by allowing us to use the table for the first sitting (our waiter said
it had never been done before), but James was 83 and had ordered dessert early enough...
should he have missed out because it wasn't delivered promptly? After tonight, there was
never a problem... service was much faster, and as we were always served our food with
enough time to eat, we reciprocated by making sure we were out early enough for the staff to
clean up for the 8:00pm sitting (though there were plenty of occasions where the 8:00pm
dinner sitting didn't end on time, and the 9:15pm or 9:30pm scheduled entertainment
would start 20-30 minutes late).
After dinner tonight I walked outside to watch a gorgeous sunset followed by a sky of
bright stars. Everyone in the group then related their discoveries and impressions of the
island, and it was interesting to hear the slant others had on St. Helena: most Saints who
receive money from the government do a 3-day work week to earn their money, though
Kevin commented that they never seemed to be working at all (I did notice a lot of workers
just relaxing on the job — but then, it's also St. Helena)... Peter related a story told to him
by a a Saint about visiting Cape Town with his girlfriend at age 18 — things in Cape Town
were so different and strange that his girlfriend cried the whole time (though this has now
somewhat changed, as with the introduction of the internet in 1998, TV in 1995, and videos
since the early 1980s, Saint kids are now much more aware of what the outside world is
like).
Kevin and Cel talked about the "official" and "unofficial" figures from government
employees, and how they'd be given an official office email address at a meeting, then later
told to "use my personal one instead"... we all talked about the way news travels on the
island, and Kevin related a story: there's a clause in the regulations regarding people who
wish to move to and set up businesses on St. Helena, stating that they must be able to show
a "substantial" profit. Try as he might, Kevin was unable to get the government officials to
define what "substantial" meant, and angry at not being able to have this important
question answered directly, he voiced his frustration to fellow visitors while in the bar of the
Consulate Hotel. The news of his disappointment soon travelled back to the officials, and
within hours, they came up to him and presented him with exactly what he was asking for
(in this case, a figure of £5,000/US$7,500 a year) — and then wanted to know if they could
answer any other questions... along the same lines, Kevin commented that it's better to
complain to someone else rather than to the person directly, mentioning that when he was
upset at Ann for serving cold food that one night when everyone was angry, he mentioned it
to a few other people, and the next day, Ann came up to him acting extremely friendly and
nice.
Peter made the observation that the Saints could help themselves out so much if they
just opened their eyes to the business opportunities around them, commenting that if a
restaurant were to open at 8:15am instead of 9:00am, it would have the business of the
everyone who has to be in town early to start work at 9:00am (saying that if someone even
just put out a stand selling coffee and croissants early in the morning, they could make
quite a bit of money)... Peter also related a story from this morning: having left his bags off
at 7:45am, Peter was extremely hungry, but nothing was open. Asking around, a local
finally told him to see Joan (in the Market Building) for some breakfast — but when he went
inside, the CAFE CLOSED sign was up even though she was in the back cooking. Normally
he would have just walked away upon seeing the CLOSED sign, but because a local had just
told him he could get breakfast there, he decided to ask for some, and Joan replied "sure,
you want bacon and egg?" When Peter told her "you know, your sign says CLOSED", her
reply was "yeah, but that's ok. Everyone knows I'm open" — but Peter told us there were at
least 8 tourists who passed by earlier hoping to get a bite to eat, but upon seeing the CAFE
CLOSED sign, moved on.
Morris mentioned meeting a woman with 5 kids from different husbands, and there
didn't seem to be any animosity among anyone involved.
Sitting there and thinking back myself on St. Helena, it occured to me that St. Helena
was probably the polar opposite of a place such as Kuala Lumpur... in KL, you shove your
way around, honk, and make a fuss with no apology, whereas on St. Helena, people are
happy to wait patiently while someone in a car in front of them stops to chat... while the
Saints certainly have feelings and opinions, they don't shove it down your throat the way so
much of the outside world does, and their soft-spokenness was a real contrast to places
such as KL (not to pick on KL particularly, but it was somewhere I had recently just visited).
Thinking back to my time behind the wheel on the island, I laughed as I realized that
for two years I had tried to find a stickshift rental car to learn on with no luck — I had to go
to St. Helena Island in the middle of the South Atlantic in order to learn how to drive a stick!
Taking a bit of time to look through the old (Dec. 8 2000) issue of the St. Helena
News, these were just some of the stories: The QE2 had arrived, but due to the rough waters
around James Bay, passengers were unable to disembark and walk onto the island,
disappointing not only them, but those who owned shops and businesses in Jamestown. It
was estimated that with the number of passengers the QE2 carries, the lost revenue could
have been as high as £35,000/US$52,500, as it was estimated local merchants made
£20,000/US$35,000 from the QE2's November landing... there were 23 police reports, with
three being theft-related (one was the reported theft of a garden hose and sprinkler), and the
mention that "the police are appealing for any informatin which will lead to the detection of
these crimes, which are still under investigation"... mention that the current public solicitor
will be leaving now that his contract is up, and as his replacement won't arrive until
February, if anyone needs legal advice, they should phone one of the lay advocates... the
Tourist Office is continuing with UNDP-funded projects, one of which is the replacement of
directional signs around the island (being made by two unemployed people)... a full page
devoted to church news and service times... a full page listing various discos (Pub Paradise,
Donny's, Dillon and Son, Godfathers Rock Club, Silver Hill) and their scheduled bands for
the week... a full page of TV listings... a full page showing the Radio St. Helena program
guide for the week... a full page for sports (the back page)... a notice that if you have
something to sell up to £30, you can advertise free in the St. Helena News... an ad from a
guy in the States: "America pays excellent American money for real Martian Meteorites"...
thanks given to the owners of Pub Paradise for providing free tea to 25 Blue Hillians on their
return from planting 50 trees out at the Millennium Forest... a recap of a recent Legislative
Council meeting... notice of a house for sale in High Hill area... From Cable & Wireless: "Do
you require a TV installation or telephone connection before Christmas? If so, please
contact us by the 15th of December"... "The Rose & Crown has JVC HiFi music systems,
Sony Discmans, Daewoo 14" Televisions"... an ad for someone offering desktop publishing
services: "we hope this will fill the gap in the services that Saints 2000 will no longer offer
due to the departure of Andrew Yon"... birthday greetings for a young 2yr-old girl... and
among other stories, a full page on the subject of television influencing people's behavior,
and the study done recently using St. Helena as the testing ground. Here are edited
excerpts of the two stories (one from the Daily Express, and the other an op-ed piece):
PROOF TV REALLY IS GOOD FOR YOU (from the Daily Express, 28 October)
Experts have exploded the myth that watching television leads to bad
behaviour in yongsters. In an 8-year study, child psychologists
scrutinised children's behaviour on the remote island of St. Helena
to see if the introduction of television in 1995 made a difference to
their conduct. Far from discovering that the children became more
violent, it found that their anti-social behaviour actually decreased
slightly. "Our report concludes that it's all to do with the amount of
family and school support and checks that are made on children's
behaviour," Professor Charlton said. Over 2,000 minutes of video
recordings were analysed from the island's two playgrounds. Results
found there was little change in anti-social behaviour such as kicking,
pushing, and pinching, with an actual slight decrease in anti-social
behaviour. Fewer than 7% of children on the island have serious
behaviourial problems, compared to 12% in London...
——
The Op-Ed Piece:
A month ago, UK papers gave coverage to the latest findings from the
St. Helena TV Project. Comparisons between children's anti-social
behaviour before and after TV arrived have been reported previously.
On this most recent occasion however, the research focused upon a wide
range of first school children's playground behaviour, including
football and other games, talking, sharing, turn-taking, etc. Few
"significant" differences were noted in playground behaviour between
1992 and 2000, and other results showed that first school pupils are
at least as well-behaved now as they were eight years ago. As in 1992,
there was little evidence of unwanted behaviours such as bullying,
teasing, fighting and kicking... in St. Helena, we may not always be as
swift as we should be in recognising and applauding positive aspects of
our island life. Perhaps we should recognise island qualities which
those elsewhere view with envy...
It should be noted though, that many people feel the TV study was flawed and didn't
represent the full story. One of the main arguements they have is that while the study
started in 1992 (before television was introduced in 1995), there had been videos on the
island since the early 1980s, and many of these action videos are far more violent than the
relatively benign two (now three) channels offered on television. They say that in order for
the study to have any merit, it would have to have started in the 1970s before the
introduction of such videos, but in the end, regardless of the whether TV has made a
difference on the children or not, Saint kids are still extremely well-behaved, and as the op-
ed writer suggested, the island should be proud of this fact.
At 10:00pm I walked into the children's room to finish my journal... we were now
headed into the wind and waves, so the ride for the next few days would be considerably
choppier than the smooth one we had sailing to St. Helena.
Some misc. info: while inside St. Helena stores, I noticed that prices on items
imported from the UK containing a printed suggested retail price were slightly higher than
the printed price (though still reasonable), but prices on most items (especially those from
South Africa) were quite cheap... there were 101 passengers on board the RMS for this
segment, including a Saint named Larry (a friend of Morris') who managed to get a cheap
last-minute deal for the sailing, giving himself a short holiday in Cape Town... I was
surprised at the number of people who heard me on the radio, as more people came up to
me on the ship to let me know they had heard me play, and enjoyed it.
Jan. 13: RMS
I only slept so-so last night, though at least there wasn't a rooster to wake me up at
3:20am. Without a porthole in the cabin though, it's impossible to know if it's time to get up
or not without searching for your watch in the dark (without a window, 7:30am looks just
like 3:30am)... and having total darkness around you isn't condusive to waking up in the
morning, let alone being able to look out at the weather and have an idea of what to wear.
Not wanting to push my luck with my knee yet (which had been doing OK), I decided not to
exercise this morning, and instead just went down to breakfast after a shower.
The feeling on the ship for this return voyage was slower and more subdued than on
the outbound voyage, with most passengers realizing that the best part of their vacation was
now over, yet they'd still be stuck on this ship for the next five days. I knew beforehand that
I'd feel this way myself somewhat (and I was right), even though I'd be continuing onto
Tristan afterwards. Also contributing to the quieter atmosphere over the next five days was
the ship encountering much rougher seas than on the way out, making many people seasick
and wanting to stay in their cabins. As we were heading into the wind and waves, the ship's
speed was also slower, meaning that the trip back would take a bit longer (at the noon-time
report, Andrew announced we were travelling at a speed of 15.1 nautical miles rather than
the 16.1 we were doing while headed towards St. Helena). Three of the yachts from the
Governor's Cup race were out on the main cargo deck tied down... because of the rough
currents and winds heading back to Cape Town, the participating yachts don't sail back on
their own, but either get carried back to Cape Town aboard the RMS or continue sailing on
towards the Caribbean.
Most of the bright, sunny morning was spent talking to the regular group out on the
sun deck, but at 11:00am I tried deck quoits for the first time (on the RMS the game is
played by throwing rubber discs towards marked rings up on the funnel deck, with the
object being to get as many points as you can while trying to slide you're opponent's discs
out of the way). Forming a team with Morris, I began to get the hang of it after a few turns,
and even though we didn't win, we nevertheless managed to do pretty well (leading for most
of the game until one of my last throws was spoiled by the rocking ship — "Neptune's Luck"
as Nigel put it).
When the ship's store opened this morning it was packed with people buying St.
Helena post cards, canned St. Helena tuna (60p/90c — the same price as the tourist shops
on the island), books, souvenirs, and other miscellaneous items. I myself wound up buying
a 2001 St. Helena calendar (£5/US$7.50) as it had some nice pictures of the island, as well
as an RMS keyring for a friend (£1.95/US$2.93) and a 39-exposure (no flash) Kodak
disposable camera (£6/US$9) as a backup in case the lens on my Canon couldn't be fixed
or replaced.
In the late morning there was a questionaire from the St. Helena Tourist Office at the
purser's office you could fill out and leave anonymously — though with it asking for your
"NATIONALITY" and "OCCUPATION", it kind of took away the anonymity (as I was one of
only two Americans on the RMS, and the only musician). Deciding to leave those two spaces
blank, I went ahead and filled out the rest of the questionaire... my biggest criticism (and I
wrote a long paragraph about this) was that information on St. Helena is hard to find, and
the Tourist Office should realize this and volunteer information on various topics instead of
answering only those questions directly asked of them (as it's impossible for visitors to think
of every possible question that might yield important information). I also mentioned the
problem with the double-booking that happened (there goes the anonymity), but I realize
they're a small office, relatively new to the tourist industry. However, it just would be nice
(especially when the big ships are in port) to have a bulletin board outside the Tourist Office
where tourism officials, business owners, and local citizens can post information about
events happening around the island — whether it be tours, poetry readings, or which bands
are playing in which pubs this week. Such a thing would be a win-win idea, helping visitors
know what's going on, and helping local businesses as well.
Already thinking about the next part of my trip to Tristan da Cunha, I asked Nigel
this morning if it might be possible to stay on island itself rather than staying on board the
ship offshore (the normal routine), as a few months back I stumbled upon a South African
website which stated there was a guesthouse on Tristan where one can arrange a stay — if
there's room and permission is given. A few weeks before leaving, I emailed the
Administrator of the island (the only person on Tristan with email), but received no
response. I thought perhaps the email address might be wrong, but what I didn't know at
the time was that due to a computer virus his computer crashed — and no email was getting
through at all. Telling Nigel I knew about the guesthouse, he said it depends on the
Administrator and if people are allowed to disembark, as with Tristan there's always the
possibility we could sail all the way there only to find the water too rough for anyone to leave
the ship (though with the Governor on board this time, there would be at least SOME people
who would need to go onto the island for a few days). Acknowledging that yes, others have
stayed at the guesthouse in the past and no one else had yet asked him yet about it, Nigel
said he'd email the Administrator to ask for me.
Lunch today was interesting: one of the choices was a "taco", but it certainly wasn't
anything near authentic (to be fair though, tacos aren't exactly British or St. Helenan fare).
While most Southern Californians consume hundreds of tacos a year (usually 2 or 3 at a
time), there was only one taco on the plate, presented in a gourmet setting (hey, tacos are
supposed to be quick 'n dirty!) Looking around, I noticed I was the only person who had
ordered the taco plate... Pat/SA had never even HEARD of a taco before, but I can't fault
her: I myself didn't know most of the British names the various foods were given on the
menu, and often someone would have to explain to me just exactly what something was (for
example, what the RMS calls "coupe mysterie" would be a "fudge sundae" to me). The taco
was less-than-satisfying (they tried, but it was pretty pathetic), though this failure was a
rare exception in an otherwise excellent array of meals.
Over lunch, a passenger who had planted a tree at the Millennium Forest mentioned
that there are now over 4,000 trees there... at the noontime announcement today, the air
temperature outside was 73F, with the water being an even warmer 75F... while I was
eating, the Governor came down to peer into the galley for a bit before leaving. A few
minutes later his wife came in, sat down, and began complaining about something — and a
bit later, the Governor came back to sit down at the table next to us.
After lunch I relaxed, watching about 20 minutes of "The Untouchables" in the alcove
of the main lounge before playing a game of Scrabble with Howard. Later in the afternoon I
went outside for bit, and Alan (a relative of Pat the shoeman) was outside as well, noticing
the swells. Even with the stabilizers, the ship was rocking quite a bit, and by now there
were clouds and even a bit of rain. Walking up to the bridge, the 1st mate (a Brit)
mentioned it would probably be like this for the rest of the evening, and when it began to
rain, he frantically tried searching for the windscreen controls (when the wipers didn't do
much good, he commented "no wonder why we never use them...") In a way, the swells, grey
clouds, and rain were probably more realistic of what life is usually like out on the open sea
(instead of the smooth, glassy water and sun we had been spoiled with on the outbound),
and I actually enjoyed the change in weather — though others seasick in their cabins for the
next few days would beg to differ, I'm sure. Outside the bridge I also talked to the current
watchman on duty — the person who sits out on either side of the bridge to look for passing
ships, debris, and other dangers in the water. It was always a Saint who had this job, and
two of the regular watchmen were great fellows to chat with.
After dinner tonight our gang played a game of Trivial Pursuit to pass the time while
the 8:00pm sitting ate (Morris and I won) until "frog racing" began at 9:30pm. "Frog racing"
(in the main lounge) consisted of 5 people sitting in a chair holding a rope fed through a
wooden frog with a hole in it — the idea is to jerk the rope in a manner so as to bring the
wooden frog closer to you — and the first person who brings the frog all the way across the
floor to them wins. Passengers could bet on which of the 5 players they thought would win
(20p/30c per bet, complete with odds based on the number of bets for each participant after
all had been placed), and everyone seemed to take part in the action. While we were
finishing Trivial Pursuit, a few people went up to practice on the frogs, but I hadn't even
bothered to see what was going on until 9:30pm, when the event officially began. There was
a new chief purser on board (a Brit named Geoff who had been on vacation and re-joined the
RMS at Ascension, though he had been doing the job for years — first on the old Union
Castle Line, then on the RMS), and after two rounds with volunteers and staff, Geoff took
the mic and announced that the final round would be an "international" match, with the 5
participants coming from various countries (uh-oh... as just about the only American on
board, guess who would be picked?) There was a Saint, a Brit, someone from Namibia, a
South African, and myself. Not having paid attention earlier, I didn't know the right way to
jerk the rope, and didn't realize how to do it properly until the race was almost over.
Though I came in second-to-last tonight, I did much better a few weeks later while on the
Tristan sailing, recovering some of my wounded pride. For the first round, I bet on someone
at random (20p), but my old bunkmate Howard wound up winning... for the second round
(played between the ship's officers as well as the Governor with an added twist: they had to
drink 1/2 pint of beer first before starting), I bet 20p on the doctor, but lost (Carl wound up
winning)... and for my round, a nice young Saint woman named Pamela won (seeing the
Governor bet on her, she joked that he better have, to save face).
After frog racing, our group dispursed for the night, so I sat down with the Governor,
his wife, Pamela, and the "proper Brit" couple from dinner early in the voyage. The Governor
(who was quite nice) mentioned he was stationed in Dallas during the Falklands war, and we
chatted about various topics: Pamela mentioned that St. Helena had two bouts of polio (Eric
George walks with a cane now because of the disease) — one in the 40s, and another in the
50s... she also took great issue with the study on television violence done on St. Helena,
noting that it didn't take into account the violent videos that have been on the island since
the 1980s, and that as someone who actually lives on the island, she has noticed a definite
change in kids' behaviors over the years, mentioning that the author himself had never
actually been to St. Helena. When I brought up seeing Ann's grandson playing with a toy
gun while eating at her place, Mrs. Governor (from El Salvador originally, though very much
a politician's wife) said Ann's granddaughter Jessica came up to her husband recently to say
"you're fat!" (and to another person, "you're old!"), so she decided to retort back to the young
child (about 7 years old): "you're rude!" Though not saying anything, one part of me sided
with the kid, as honesty is something we all tend to lose once we grow up (though to be fair,
the Governor really isn't that fat).
Over the course of the next few weeks, the Governor's wife seemed to make it quite
clear that she didn't enjoy being on St. Helena, and saw it more as a prison term than a
plum posting... this is unfortunate for all the Saints for whom St. Helena is home. While the
Governor's wife would often come up to talk to me, I have to say that she seemed the
stereotype of a spoiled, stuck-up, status-conscious society lady (true or not, it was the
impression I constantly had of her — as apparently, did the Saints), and seemed almost the
polar opposite of her quieter, more down-to-earth husband. Whereas the Mrs. always
seemed to be complaining about one thing or another, the Governor seemed pleasant,
friendly, and taking things in stride — though he's still quite the consummate politician.
One complaint I heard from Saints about this current Governor is that he doesn't mix as
much with the locals as previous Governors had, but my own opinion is that the problem
doesn't lie with whomever the current Governor may be so much as with the system of
having a Governor in the first place — someone appointed from London to run an island in
the middle of the South Atlantic, where he has never lived and has no stake in its future —
and which he'll leave after a few years without being around to see the results or
consequences of his decisions (while there is a Legislative Council, as I understand it, the
Governor has the final word if there is a disagreement). Still, whether you agree or disagree
with the current Governor's policies, he's quite approachable on a one-to-one basis outside
of politics as just a regular guy with a good sense of humor. In passing tonight, the
Governor mentioned he heard it had actually snowed in Los Angeles (as I later found out, it
was barely noticable only in one particular place, but was rare nonetheless).
After discussing St. Helena for a bit, talk soon turned to Tristan (where both the
Governor and his wife would be headed to take care of some official duties): just a couple of
months ago, two fishermen drowned off the island because of bad weather — one drowned
initially, and another (who tried to rescue the first), drowned as well... Pamela mentioned
there was recently a play in London about the time in the 1960s when the Tristanians were
forced to evacuate to London due to the volcano erupting, believing the title was something
like "Farther than the Farthest Thing"... she also mentioned that when she visited the island
10 years ago, she was surprised that the volcano that had erupted wasn't the large, main
cone, but a small tiny offshoot to the side.
During the course of our chat, Pamela found out my name — and suddenly said "Ah,
there was a package for you I left off with the purser's office yesterday... something from
Tony over at the radio station..." It was already the second day at sea, and no one from the
ship had informed me I had a package waiting... if I hadn't spoken to Pamela by chance (and
she hadn't found out my name), would I ever have received the package? The next day I
went to inquire about it, and saw it was the package from Tony containing two cassettes of
the interviews I did at the station.
After talking for a few more minutes, we all split up to go our separate ways. There
was a scheduled disco in the lounge, but not many people were dancing with the ship
rocking so much. Sitting there, I realized I would be on this ship for almost three more
weeks.
Deciding to play with the satellite phone a bit (as everything on the ship was quiet), it
took three attempts for a call to St. Helena to go through, and calls to other INMARSAT
numbers were blocked, with the word "UNAVAILABLE" appearing on the LCD display (I tried
calling the ship's "874" FAX line as a test).
Misc. info: Americans are used to disposable paper toilet seat covers in public
restrooms, but no place I visited on this trip had them (including the RMS) — so I'd wind up
using toilet paper to cover the seat on a public toilet... it was generally much colder in the
cabins than elsewhere on the ship (even the hallways were warmer), though perhaps this
was just as well, as it's easier to sleep under some blankets when it's cool than when it's
stuffy. The rooms did have temperature controls, but they never seemed to work in
anyone's cabin.
Jan. 14: RMS [St. Helena Info]
I hardly had any sleep last night... after reading some of "Red October" I went to bed
at 1:00am — but at 3:00am Ken came in quite drunk, and the cabin was soon filled with
lawnmower-volume snoring so loud that neither the good earplugs nor the radio blasting
static in my ear could block it out. I was so tired in the morning that I asked Colin if there
was a room I could get some sleep in tonight, but all the cabins were full (I verified this
myself by looking at the master list posted up by the purser's bureau). Searching around
the ship for an area that would be quiet in the evenings, I decided that if the snoring was as
bad tonight, I'd sleep either in the exercise room (where there were blankets and pillows in
the closet) or the doctor's semi-private waiting office across the hall. Later that morning I
told the group why I was so tired, and Kevin kidded me about it for a while (asking me the
next day if I had slept in the exercise room). A few days later, Ken found out that I hadn't
had much sleep one night because of his snoring and aplogized (confirming that it was due
to all the alcohol)... I told him not to worry about it, as while it was still loud on subsequent
nights, it wasn't half as bad as that second night, and never forced me to sleep outside the
cabin.
Seeing Nigel in the hallway this morning, I asked if he had a package waiting for me,
and went later to pick up the two cassettes from Radio St. Helena.
Outside was a mix of sun and clouds today, but the waves were still quite choppy,
causing a lot of people to stay in their cabins instead of coming out for breakfast (even
Pat/UK wasn't feeling well). After breakfast, a man who had been tracking the RMS' course
on a large chart with the aid of a portable GPS unit pointed out that the straight course the
RMS had been on was altered yesterday (as it turns out, to try to avoid bad weather) though
we were now back on course after having lost some time. Later in the morning when Kevin
went on the engine room tour, he found out we were indeed a few hours behind schedule
now, but the Captain hoped to make up the time in transit, as the ship had to be in Cape
Town by a certain hour on Jan. 17th to be used for the filming of a TV commercial in the
evening. It was also announced that because of the film crew needing to be on board the
ship, those people continuing on to Tristan the next day would be put up in a local Cape
Town hotel (the Townhouse) instead of staying on board the ship. As I was the only
passenger of the dozen or so people taking both voyages asked to pay money to stay on
board, I opted to arrange accomodation on my own in Cape Town (with Kritz at the B&B) —
and though the thought of possibly being put up in a nice hotel room for the night appealed
to me, I decided to stick with Kritz (or at least pay him for the night), as I had already asked
him to hold the room. With the shoddy way Curnow had treated me (asking for money from
me but not from others), I was curious to see how the situation unfolded, but in the end,
Curnow (ever cheap) changed their minds about the Townhouse Hotel, and decided just to
keep everyone on board the ship.
Going against the waves and wind, our speed was now much slower than on the
outbound: sailing at the same 85% power level as had before, the somewhat-inaccurate
speed indicator over the bridge door showed 12.8 nautical miles, while the more accurate
GPS indicator read 13.5 — compared to 16.1 during the trip out to St. Helena.
After breakfast I decided to relax and do a bit of reading... going back to the cabin to
fetch my book, I saw Ken still sleeping like a log on his bunk. Upstairs in the sun lounge, I
noticed the Governor sitting down reading himself, so asked if I could join him and ask a few
quetions, to which he kindly obliged.
Both today and later in the trip (see Jan. 29) I was able to spend some time talking
with the Governor about the problems facing St. Helena. Asking him first a bit about how
the system of British governors works, I learned that there are 13 British Overseas
Dependent Territories with governors — except these days (unlike during colonial times), the
governors come from the Foreign Office.
Gov. Hollamby has held many postings over the years, from the US (New York and
Texas) to Rome (his most recent one), and was in the Caribbean section of the Foreign Office
when it merged with the South Atlantic section... being the deputy head, he asked for the
posting to St. Helena and received it. When I asked if it was what he expected, he replied
"partially... but not quite", commenting that people are always coming up to him with every
conceivable problem (a pothole here, a pothole there, etc.), with him having to reply that he
can't fix everything himself — go see the appropriate person. Saying the island's isolation is
the worst thing about the posting, he mentioned that he tries to take breather holidays from
time to time.
The Governor seemed quite proud of the some of the changes he's tried to implement
on the island, including liberalizing immigration policy (insuring it's no longer the hassle it
once was for spouses of Saints wishing live on St. Helena) as well as liberalizing shop
opening hours (if a shop now wants to open on Wednesday afternoons or Sundays, they can
— though so far, none seem to have done so). He's in charge of finance, defense and other
"national" issues, with much of the local concerns being left to the elected Legislative
Council. As Governor of St. Helena, he's also in charge of Ascension and Tristan da Cunha
(both dependents of St. Helena... though there is an Administrator on each — his "deputies"
as he calls them), and is also technically in charge of the RMS.
The island's budget lasts for 3 years, with the current one higher than the last — but
still down about 16% in real terms (adjusted costs) over the last few decades (with the
Governor commenting that like politicians everywhere, when budget talks come up every 3
years, no one wants to give up any money).
Moving onto the economy, the Governor said the only real hope for the island lies
with building an airport, believing that the future will hold either an airport or a new
(replacement) RMS, but not both. Even though the two current airport proposals are
privately-funded, he feels that in the end the airport will wind up being funded by the
British Government, mentioning that the smaller passengers-only option isn't realistic, and
the more-ambitious Shelco plan has been around since 1987 with nothing to show for it. As
far as the airport's location, it would most likely be built on Prosperous Bay Plain because of
the 3 new wind turbines recently placed at the other possible site (Deadwood Plain). Proud
of opening these three turbines last year, the Governor commented that they now supply
11% of the island's electricity. When I asked "why not put up 30 of them then?" his reply
was that they want to wait and see how they hold up over time... they don't want to be 100%
dependent on the turbines as they do break down occasionally, but he seemed to indicate
that perhaps in about 3 years some more might be put up.
On the citizenship issue, the Governor feels as the Saints do — that they deserve to
have their citizenship reinstated, and feels it's only a matter of time ("throwing the baby out
with the bathwater" is how he described the law causing Saints to lose their citizenship
when the UK Government was worried about an influx of Chinese immigrants from Hong
Kong). When I pressed him on why it hasn't happened this year, he said it was because of
the current UK Government's desire to have a short legislative session in order to call new
elections soon — and while he feels that citizenship will indeed be restored at some point, he
doesn't believe such status would include pension schemes or social security. With full
citizenship however, Saints would once again have the right of abode (to live and work) in
the UK without special permission, and when I asked the Governor if he thought there
would be an exodus of people off the island once that happened, his reply was "perhaps from
the young at first"... but felt that in time, most would return to build a home and settle back
on St. Helena.
Back to the economy, when I mentioned the inequity of the UK Government spending
so little on one of their territories compared to the £40 million (US$60 million) a month on
the Millennium Dome project, he once again stressed that once the airport comes, the
island's economy will turn around. St. Helena has a 3-day work week for people on welfare
(a "workfare"-type program) in which you must work to receive a check... and there's a high
unemployment rate on the island. Currently, the highest boost to the economy are the
remittances sent back to the island from Saints living and working overseas, but as those
Saints become more used to life outside of St. Helena, the remittances often stop.
Moving onto the Governor's Cup race, when I asked what all the ruckus was about,
he commented (not realizing I was asking about the Plantation House reception) that
Captain Roberts (the current captain on the RMS) and the Royal Cape Yacht Club both want
control of the race, and pretty much hate each other. When I clarified that I was referring to
the reception given outside Plantation House under a canvus tent instead of inside the
mansion (as has been the tradition in the past), he leaned forward, lowered his voice, and
said "oh... well the thing was, the guest list was for 250 — and you can't fit 250 people into
one room at Plantation House, so we had it outside..." mentioning that the Queen's birthday
celebration was also held outside. Though I didn't press him any further on the matter, it
should be noted that the reception could easily have been held in more than one room, and
that such receptions have always been held inside the mansion in the past. I suspect
though, that the Mrs. just didn't want people inside "her" house (the feeling had by everyone
who took the Plantation House tour).
As we were talking, someone came up to hand the Governor a xerox page from the
new St. Helena News (which wasn't ready when I wanted to buy a copy). On it were three
op-ed letters written by Julian-Cairns Wickes (a Brit married to a Saint)... the Governor
chuckled, saying Mr. Wickes is always writing in complaining about something.
As the term of these British governors is short, I asked Mr. Hollamby what an ex-
Governor does once the job is finished, and his reply was that he'd probably be given
another Foreign Office posting. After talking with him for some time today (as well as over
the next few weeks), I believe the Governor is a decent person — but I think one problem he
faces in his job is his British upbringing and outlook, which seems to clash with the island
way of life. I honestly feel he believes he's made some good decisions for the island, but the
Saints absolutely hate his wife, and don't have the same sense of closeness with him that
they've had had with previous governors. I suppose my only advice to him (which I never
offered) would be that while I realize he's the representative of the Queen and the British
Government, it might help if he were to go just a bit more native, mingling and mixing with
the locals more (reflecting some of the comments made to me by Saints).
Finishing our talk at 10:30am, it was time for a "non-denominational" (Christian)
Sunday church service in the main lounge... and curious to see what it would be like aboard
a ship, I decided to attend. With about 30 other people in the room, I sat off to the side (as I
was wearing shorts — though I noticed some others were as well), and the Governor soon
sat down next to me with his wife. The service was led by Captain Roberts, using small
combination hymn/prayer books with music provided by Carl running a pre-recorded tape
on the audio system. At first, I couldn't see if there was actually someone playing an organ
or not (as the RMS does have a Casio keyboard for such occasions), and as I walked up to
ask Carl about the music afterwards, another passenger was there asking the same
question (Carl said that once a lady thought he had been playing the organ). Without a
sermon, the service (which also included the 2nd mate reading a lesson) lasted 25-30
minutes, and was over by 11:00am.
When church was finished I walked out onto the sun deck upstairs to see the water
in the pool splashing wildly about as the ship rocked, with the waves being rough enough
this morning to postpone the 11:30am shuffleboard game until 4:30pm. Having had very
little sleep last night, I decided to go back down to the cabin and rest for a bit — only to see
Ken still sleeping (as without a porthole, it could easily have been 3:30am in the cabin).
Resting my eyes without sleeping, I realized my stomach was just a tad woozy — but I think
it had more to do with the lack of sleep than the rocking of the boat, as I didn't really feel
sick, and as soon as I had some sleep tonight it went away. Lunch today (as would be the
case every Sunday) was curry, and though it was quite good, there were hardly any people
down in the galley eating. At 4:30pm I tried my hand at shuffleboard, doing well but not
advancing to the finals... and when it was finished, I watched the bingo game going on in the
lounge (I didn't play).
Dinner was light this evening, and over the meal Peter talked about Mrs. Governor
and how bad she was during the Plantation House tour he took on Wednesday (while I was
off doing Mike's Classical Hour). Apparently when the Governor and his wife moved into the
mansion, the Mrs. replaced a historic 300 year old toilet with a modern, auto-sensing one —
and when someone on the tour asked about it, she threw up her hands and shouted "Oh
pleeeease! Not that!" Peter also felt she was quite rude and standoffish, conducting most of
the tour herself in order to keep a close watch on everyone in "her" house — and to make
sure no one touched anything, she had a maid watching people in other rooms. It wasn't
just the impression Peter received either: the French gentleman with us at dinner that night
(who had worked in Texas) had also been on the tour, and nodded his head in total
agreement, commenting that he couldn't believe how pompous and rude she the Governor's
wife was on the tour.
After dinner I played some Scrabble with Peter before going up to the main lounge for
"pub games", a collection of 3 games played in teams: a bagatels table (where you throw a
puck through a slot for points), mini table skittles, and darts. Because I was so tired, I
wasn't even going to play, but in the end, decided to give it a shot. Fritz was my partner
tonight, and we both did exceptionally well with the darts (even with the ship rocking wildly),
though between the three games, other teams pulled ahead of us. Feeling extremely tired
from the lack of sleep, I didn't even bother to stay for the final results, and headed to the
cabin at 11:20pm.
Jan. 15: RMS
Today was the first and only day on my entire trip where I slept right through the
alarm — I was that tired. When I looked at my watch, it was 8:45am and orange juice was
already sitting out for me. Taking a quick shower, I hurried downstairs for a late breakfast
at 9:00am (it ends at 9:15am)... with finally some sleep, I felt much better, even though the
waves were just as rough today.
Walking outside after breakfast, I spotted a white tropic bird with a long, thin tail
following alongside the RMS. At 9:40am the Captain made a general announcement that
the current swell and wind conditions were to continue for at least the next 24hrs, and
advised people to have a free hand to hold onto something should the ship rock suddenly.
He then announced that at 10:30am the crew would take part in an emergency drill using
theatrical smoke — so not to be alarmed if you see smoke on the ship (adding that though
it's unusual to use smoke in a drill, they were doing so due to the isolated nature of the
RMS). Lasting about 45 minutes, the drill wound up being the most exciting event of the
morning.
A bit later I played a game of Scrabble with an older Saint lady looking for a partner,
and after lunch did some laundry while catching most of "Tea With Mussolini" in the alcove
of the main lounge. With there not being much to do (and with many people in their
cabins), it was turning out to be a quiet, boring day. After lying out in the shade on the side
of the ship to read more "Red October", I went up to the bridge for a look around. Captain
Roberts was there, and I talked to him for a while about the RMS and Tristan: he mentioned
that while some shipping traffic does pass by St. Helena (mostly between Cape Town and the
east coast of the USA), hardly anything makes its way as far south as Tristan. Speaking
about the rough seas, he said the swells were pretty normal for this direction, and that the
current wind speed was a Force 5. Returning back down below, I watched the end of the
bingo game (without playing) before going to dinner.
Tonight's meal had a French theme to it, with special menus, candlelight, and French
flags everywhere. Though there was a fancy dress dance scheduled for tonight, I didn't feel
much like dancing with the type of music likely to be played... so earlier in the day, I went to
see Nigel and Carl at the purser's bureau to check out some videos, borrowing the original
"Day of the Jackel" and a double-movie tape of "Ruthless People" and "Tin Men." The ship
keeps a nice collections of videos (many of which are shown publically, though you can
borrow them to watch on your own as well), with some not even officially out on video yet
(such as "Billy Elliot"). Nigel mentioned that as the ship gets newer videos in, they often
donate the older ones to Tristan or the hospital on St. Helena... and seeing me, said that
Curnow has now changed their minds regarding passengers continuing onto Tristan,
deciding to keep us all on the ship instead of putting us up in a hotel (though I would be
leaving the ship to stay with Kritz that night).
Popping "Day of the Jackel" into the main lounge alcove's VCR, I watched for about
an hour before Carl came in to tell me they needed to get the area ready for the dance.
Putting the video aside, I watched the pre-dance fancy dress ceremony: about 20 people got
all dressed up in self-made costumes and paraded through the lounge as the Captain
"judged" them to find a winner (every participant won in the end though, receiving a gift
certificate for £5/US$7.50 to use at the bar or the ship's store). Some of the costumes were
pretty elaborate, but my two favorites were simple yet effective: a man entered holding only a
pint of beer and walked up to the Governor to give it to him (which he drank), calling it "The
Governor's Cup" — and the other (which received huge laughs from everyone who knew
about the Governor's Cup reception scandal) was a British family of 4 walking in under just
a large white sheet labelled as "HMS Customs."
With the parade of costumes over at 10:30pm and the dance set to begin, I walked
upstairs to the sun lounge to finish "Day of the Jackel" on the 16:9 TV there (with only
about 3 other people in the room, it was nice and quiet).
Jan. 16: RMS
Though a bit cloudy this morning, I went out to lie down after breakfast, with Pat/UK
joining me. While relaxing, Michael "Cook" (the Saint catering head) came up to talk to me:
a few days ago I had asked him about the possibility of taking a galley tour, and while it's
not one of the ship's normal tours (he asked me not to tell other passengers about it due to
there being limited space and time in the galley), said one could probably be arranged. At
lunch yesterday he informed me the tour would be 2:00pm today, but coming up to me this
morning, said it now needed to be moved to 10:30am tomorrow — a shame, as with today
looking to be quite boring again, I was really looking forward to it. In passing, Michael told
me that there were 14 people on this current leg who would be continuing onto Tristan
(including myself), and that there would be about 80 more joining us in Cape Town... at first
I was surprised, figuring that the voyage would be completely sold out (as it had to be
scrapped last year), though I didn't take into account people booking large cabins just for
themselves — and in the end, every cabin was indeed sold out. Michael mentioned that the
last time he was at Tristan the weather was so bad that people and cargo couldn't get ashore
normally... just by chance, a navy ship was visiting as well, so the cargo was lifted by
chopper to the island, as well as a few people lucky enough to go ahore that way.
Flying alongside the RMS today was a different sea bird than yesterday, and I found
out we were now about 400 miles from land. The crew was still telling passengers of a
noontime arrival into Cape Town, but for that to be the case, they'll have to make up more
time at sea. The water was still choppy, but not as bad as it has been — so perhaps a little
time could be made up. Instead of the daily crossword puzzle today (which was a morning
staple with Cel, Pat/SA, and Pat/UK), there was instead a ship's "treasure hunt", in which
many trivial questions were asked, with the answers to be found or displayed somewhere on
the ship — and though I didn't take part in it, it kept a lot of people busy. As the day wore
on, people began to realize that tomorrow would be the last day of their trip (for those not
continuing onto Tristan), and were soon jotting down each other's addresses.
It was announced both in the Ocean Mail and later over the ship's PA that bar tabs
were now ready for settlement at the purser's bureau, so after watching a touristy film on
Cape Town in the sun lounge at 11:00am (out of sheer boredom), I went down to settle my
tab: a "big" 50p/75c (for a 1/2-size can of soda water I ordered a few nights ago at dinner...
normally I'd just pay right as I order). While settling my account, I noticed that Nigel was
handing out RMS/Curnow questionaires to everyone, but when I asked for one myself, was
told that I'd receive mine when I was finished with the Tristan voyage, as I'd be continuing
on. Too bad, as there were a few things I wanted to comment on (all having to do with the
office end of Curnow, not the staff or crew on board the ship) — but I would have my chance
a few weeks later.
As tonight would be the Captain's farewell cocktail party, I didn't want to have a large
lunch, but of all the days not to want to eat a lot, they picked today to serve an extremely
good lasagna (was there not a cocktail party tonight, I would have easily ordered seconds
instead of asking for just a 1/2 serving). There was also extremely good lemon sorbet, and it
was fast becoming my desert of choice for most meals, even with the other wonderful choices
being offered.
I spent some time after lunch reading more of "Red October" out on deck in the
shade... it was sunny but windy — and though it had been smoother earlier, the swells
picked up again by the afternoon.
At 4:45pm a 45 minute film about Tristan da Cunha was shown in the lounge: made
by an Italian crew who spent 45 days on the island, the film (though a few years old by now)
was quite interesting. Mrs. Governor (not happy with her seat), stood up to switch with
someone in the front row before deciding just to leave altogether halfway through the film.
At 6:00pm the Captain's cocktail party went into full swing, and just as before, there
was plenty of tasty fingerfood (breaded pork, weiners on toothpicks, pizza pieces, potato
crisps, etc.) and free drinks. Talking to some of the officers, I heard that the RMS has
always been able to dock, get cargo, and at least some people ashore at Tristan... so I hoped
the RMS' luck would hold.
At 6:45pm it was time to go down for dinner (light tonight because I had eaten at the
cocktail party). There, Peter commented that the interview he recently had with Captain
Roberts consisted of the Captain just talking about himself (besides Captain Roberts there is
also Captain Smith — and in the past, a Saint named Rodney has filled in for Captain as
well, though he's actually the 1st mate when not on vacation).
After dinner our group went up to the main lounge to chat, and at 9:30pm the
presentation of awards (to the winners of various events) took place, followed by a musical
quiz — which our team actually won (finally receiving two free bottles of champagne).
Though I generally don't like alcohol, I had a bit of the champagne to celebrate our victory as
we talked and chatted until 11:40pm — which became 12:40am as the clocks were
advanced one hour at midnight to return us back to Cape Town time.
The water was once again choppy, and at the awards presentation the Captain
mentioned that due to the weather turning rough again, we might be getting in at 12:30pm
or later (rather than the scheduled 12:00 noon).
While waiting for the quiz to begin, someone in the room showed us a copy of a
propaganda-style "information" packet on the passenger-only airport proposal, meant to
sway Saints into accepting their plan for a luxury upmarket resort hotel and golf course on
the island. Below are some excerpts from the packet:
"It is only the British Governemnt who have always believed that
transport to St. Helena had to be a loss-making activity... the island
will not be swamped with cheap 'package holiday' tourists at all... our
plan envisages 204 people per week arriving by air, of whom only half are
anticipated to be tourists who will stay in our new upmarket hotel...
economy class airfares will be set as cheaply as feasible, roughly
equivalent to the mid-priced cabins on the ship. Saints will be able to
buy special lower-priced 'Islander' fares on three routes: the flights
to-and-from Cape Town (twice a week), Ascension (fortnightly, subject to
landing rights being granted), and Falklands (fortnightly), with 10 out
of 46 seats reserved for passengers paying "Islander" fares. A return
Islander fare to Cape Town is likely to be around £790/US$1,185, while
a cheap RMS budget fare in a 4-berth cabin is £524/US$786... other
planned flights (mainly aimed at the tourist market) will arrive direct
from London (weekly), Dubai (weekly), and Bermuda (fortnightly), though
Islander fares will not be available on these routes. The direct return
economy London -> St. Helena fare will be £2,750/US$4,125, though the
cheapest way for Saints will be via Cape Town, at £1,390/US$2,085... what
happens to the RMS is wholly a matter for the St. Helena Government..."
The proposed timetable outline (obviously behind schedule now) includes:
March 2001: appoint consultants and contractors
April 2001: begin construction on airport
August 2001: begin construction on hotel
Dec. 2002: hotel hand-over
April 2003: hotel opens to visitors
April 2003: first commercial flight
Reading this over, I couldn't help but wonder about this plan: with those Saints who
work only earning a small daily wage, can most afford the prices being offered for the
flights? The idea of a passenger-only service (with no plans for cargo) seems a bit stupid,
and the idea of building a luxury hotel and golf course makes me shudder: the people who
visit these resorts usually have no desire to mix or mingle with locals, and I highly doubt
anyone not directly involved with the proposed resort will see much increase in the amount
of tourism money flowing their way. To the Saints, transportation (whether by ship or a
proposed airport) isn't just an afterthought, it's survival... and in the end if it is indeed the
desire of the Saints to build an airport for themselves (with the Saints making the decision
— as they will be the ones who will have to live with the consequences of it, good and bad), I
hope they decide upon a general, all-purpose airport to serve their own needs first (cargo,
medical, and tourism) above the idea of building a small airstrip merely to bring rich tourists
to an isolated hotel and golf resort.
Jan. 17: RMS [Galley Tour] / Cape Town (South Africa)
I didn't really sleep much during the night between the boat rocking and Ken
snoring, but it didn't seem worth it to move to the exercise room for only a few hours... so I
pretty much just lied there and rested my eyes.
After a shower and breakfast I walked outside... it was sunny and windy, but no land
was yet in sight. Walking up to the bridge to find out what time we might arrive, the
German guy was there already asking the same question of Jolene (the 3rd mate who re-
joined the ship on Ascension)... she didn't want to answer however, saying that the Captain
would make an announcement soon (though a bird-watching fellow had inquired earlier and
found out it would be 2:00pm). Sure enough, just a bit later the Captain made an
announcement that due to the strong winds and currents, we'd be arriving late, at around
2:00pm. What I didn't find out until a few hours later was that the current wasn't the only
thing keeping us behind schedule: during the night there was yet another engine failure,
and from 2:00am to 6:00am this morning we were down to only one engine.
At 10:30am I went downstairs for a very interesting galley tour, conducted by one of
the young chefs from the UK (with just myself and one other couple who had asked
separately about a tour). Over the next half-hour, we learned a lot about preparing food on
the ship: the galley is just a bit smaller than the adjoining dining saloon... there are 6 chefs
on board, and while one concentrates on salads, another will be baking — though they
switch their duties around every week to make the job less routine... most foodstuffs come
from South Africa or the UK, though the cheeses come solely from Britain, as they're
generally more consistant than SA cheeses... just about all desserts except for the gateau,
cheesecakes, sorbet and ice-creams are made fresh on the ship... the staff tries to buy both
produce that's ripe as well as produce that's slightly underripe, as it can be 3 weeks between
procurements... they also try to buy tuna and other fish from St. Helena... breakfast
preparation starts at 5:00am for a few cooks (with the others coming in at 6:00am), lunch
preparation usually goes into full swing at 11:00am, and dinner at 4:30pm — but in reality,
meals are being prepared throughout the day (especially dinner)... the cooks don't eat
leftovers (they work hard), and dinner for them can be late — often they're not out of the
kitchen until 11:00pm... there's a full-time storekeeper who keeps track of supplies and can
tell the chefs which items are about to go bad in a few days (in order to use them while
they're still fresh)... there's over 10,000 different food items on the ship... the cooks usually
work for 10 weeks, then receive 10 weeks off... our guide commented that it usually only
takes a day or so before they can estimate how much of each type of food will be ordered,
reflecting the tastes and pallates of passengers on a particular voyage, and if there's choppy
weather outside, there will be more requests for rolls and soup, and less for veggies... there
have been a few near misses with accidents in the past (once, a large soup pot fell over
during a big wave), but they're very careful and know how to work on board a ship...
foodstuffs can be thrown over the side (about the only thing allowed to be dumped at sea),
but usually only one dustbin's worth a day, and never things such as oil or grease... the
galley is quite small and compact, especially for the amount of food that must be prepared
— the stove has only 6 places, but it's still enough to do the job... there is one bread oven
which cooks 105 rolls or 12 loaves of bread in about 20 minutes, with the general daily
bread consumption being 500 rolls and 30 loaves of bread... the chef mentioned that he'd
like to be able to prepare certain dishes, but must cook for the people on board, telling us
that Saints generally like basic, filling food, while Europeans and Americans often look for
healthier, lighter meals.
As the tour was finishing, the chef mentioned that originally with our arrival time of
12:00 noon, there was only to be a buffet lunch served upstairs — but now that we would be
arriving later, they were going to cook a downstairs lunch as well. On another matter, he
told us he had heard that the film company needed to use the ship between 9:00pm-3:00am
tonight.
After the tour, I went up to the sun deck to jot a few notes down in the journal. With
land in the distance we were soon in cel phone range, and the sound of people chatting
away soon filled the air (I borrowed Cel's phone to try calling Russell, but received only his
answering machine). Though we were close to land, it would still be a while before arriving
at the docks. Over the PA the Captain pointed out a few things, including the interesting
phenomenon of an inversion layer off the island we were passing, as well as some whales off
the starboard side (there was one somewhat close coming up for air). Everywhere on the
ship people were saying goodbye to each other and making sure addresses were jotted down.
Borrowing Cel's cel phone again, I managed to reach Russell — who called me back with his
wife's cel phone number (as Judith was working by the docks today, and would be able to
pick me up).
Wanting to use up the four 10p coins I had left, I went to play the slot machine in the
sun lounge — and on the 3rd coin, hit PLUM-PLUM-PLUM. With a heap of 10p coins the
last thing I needed now (it didn't even occur to me that I could trade them in for pound
notes), I gave them all to Cel as thanks for the use of her cel phone and the meals she had
cooked for me. Using the coins, Cel then tried her luck and won a jackpot as well — though
she smartly took the coins and traded them into bills at the purser's bureau (as each pound
was worth about 11 rand). By this time, the rand had lowered against the dollar as well,
with one US$1 buying R7.9.
After a while, we sailed past Robben Island and picked up the pilot boat which would
guide us through the dock area at 2:00pm. As we came closer to land, it began to get much
warmer — and soon turned into an absolutely gorgeous day with not a cloud in the sky (not
even over Table Mountain). We finally reached E Berth (where we would dock for the night)
at 2:45pm, and as I was considered a "transit passenger" not needing to clear immigration, I
was finally able to leave the ship at 3:15pm (though there were 13 of us continuing onto
Tristan da Cunha, only myself, the Governor and his wife, and one other couple decided to
leave the ship for the day).
Though I didn't have to clear immigration, I did have to go through customs — first
through a metal detector, then by walking to a makeshift area nearby where a man was
waiting to hand-inspect my luggage — but when he saw I had only the one small bag, he
just waved me through.
Meeting Judith, we waited around until others began clearing immigration so she
could say hello to a friend from church who had been on board the ship as well. While
waiting, I tried to find a phone but had no luck: there was a row of seven green card phones
where the customs gentleman was standing, but they had just been set there for no
apparent reason, and weren't actually connected. Asking the customs officer about a phone,
he was at a loss as to where one might be (other than to suggest walking all the way out by
the entrance area — something I wasn't about to do in the 90F heat).
By now Pat & Morris were off the ship, looking around for the Townhouse Hotel van
which was supposed to meet them, but didn't show up. As it was quite hot, Judith offered
them a lift into town after meeting with her friends, and the four of us squeezed into her
little Toyota to head off. On the way to the Townhouse, Pat mentioned she wanted to have
tea at the Mount Nelson Hotel at some point... so we made a short detour to drive onto the
hotel grounds to show Pat & Morris where it was (of all the times I had walked between
downtown and Oranjezeicht or Vredehoek passing the Mount Nelson Hotel, this was the first
time I had actually entered its gates!) From what I could see as Judith turned around
inside, it was quite fancy — and pink!
After dropping Pat & Morris off at the Townhouse, we drove to Shaps Cameraland —
the store supposedly holding a used 35-105mm lens for my camera (Russell had earlier
mentioned he had been unable to find anything else). Inside, I purchased a replacement UV
filter (Sigma, R220/US$27.85) and suddenly thought to ask if someone would be able to
examine the lens and possibly repair it instead of me having to buy a new one. Just as I
asked, I saw that the lens they were holding for me wasn't an FD mount lens — and thus,
wouldn't work on my camera after all. The lady at the shop suggested (at 4:30pm) going to
their other location a few blocks away to see someone about repairing my lens, so Judith
and I walked to the other store. There inside, we were told to walk just a bit futher to the
actual shop where Shaps sends equipment out to be fixed (Cape Camera Repair, in the
Strand Building at the corner of Strand and Long). Walking around the corner, we entered
the building and took the lift up to the repair shop... the secratary took the lens to a
technician to examine, and returned saying it could be fixed by tomorrow for
R320/US$40.51. Leaving the lens and camera body off, we walked out hoping it would be
fixed properly — and by tomorrow morning.
As it was hot, I told Juidth I'd treat her to an ice-cream (I wanted one too), but not
finding any in the area, we hopped in the car to drive out of town at 4:45pm before the
5:00pm traffic began. Plastered up on poles in the area was the newspaper headline that
Laurent Kabila (President of the DRC) had been killed... asking Judith about it (as I had
been out of the news lately), she told me there were conflicting reports, but that it seemed he
was assasinated.
Heading out of town, I spoke to Russell on the phone as Judith drove (there's a new
law in South Africa against talking on a cel phone while driving)... Russell said to head to
the False Bay Yacht Club, as when his day job (working on PBXs) was done, he was
supposed to help out a pupil who wanted to sail in the weekly Wednesday evening race
there. My original plan was to treat Russell and Judith to dinner at the top of the Table
Mountain Cable Car, but I figured there still might be time to do both. Going towards False
Bay there was a bit of traffic, but with school still on holiday until next week, it wasn't too
bad getting out of the city (even with the narrow roads, it was no comparison to Los Angeles'
rush hour).
Along the way we needed to stop for petrol, but Judith soon realized she had left her
bag back at the school... so at a Total station, I gave her R50 for petrol, and picked us both
up an ice-cream. Outside, I also used the attached ATM to take out some rand, as well as
make a quick call home to check my answering machine (I tried to call Kritz as well, but
there was no answer). Driving on, Judith popped the tape of me being interviewed by Tony
Leo into the cassette player, but we soon started talking, so I turned it off.
Meeting Russel at the False Bay Yacht Club at 6:00pm, we scurried into his student's
boat, where the four of us quickly prepared for the 6:15pm race (no sooner am I off one ship
than I'm back on another!) Sitting outside on the tiny boat, we had to navigate around
several buoys (markers) — though we once went too far, reaching the outer buoys meant for
the larger boats. There was one particular boat we were trying to beat (as it was the same
class and type as ours), and as we tilted heavily (leaning to the side), we got soaked when
waves would come up. By 7:45pm (still light outside, though the sun was now behind the
hills), boats were crossing an imaginary finish line, radioing the harbor that they had done
so — and we soon finished second in our class. At the finish line (just a bit out from shore)
the wind died down completely, and a boat with no engine stood motionless, waiting for
another boat to tow it in. Walking around the docks later, I passed a yacht flying an
American flag, and met a middle-aged lady from Long Beach California who, along with her
husband, had been sailing around the world for the past 3 years. Russell talked to her for a
bit (about a local fellow who broadcasts on the radio for yachtsmen) before leaving to drive
back to Kalkbay.
Back at Russell & Judith's, I gave them the ordinance survey map of St. Helena they
had asked for... and while they took a shower, I called both my service at home and the B&B
(Kritz' wife answered), letting Mrs. Odendaal know I'd be arriving late and wouldn't need a
ride. I then called the Table Mountain Cable Car (R75/US$9.49 now) to find out what time
the restaurant at the top closed — the recording said the last car up was at 9:00pm, but it
was now 8:30pm, and we'd have to somehow get from Kalkbay to the cable car station in 30
minutes. Russell said "no way we'll make it," but Juidth said "yes, we can!" — so piling into
the car, Judith made a go at trying to reach the base in time (driving way too fast for
Russell). In the end, we arrived at 9:05pm with the ticket booth closed... the cars were still
running (as the last car down was at 10:00pm), but no one was allowed to go up any longer.
It was worth a shot though, as it was a beautiful, warm evening with plenty of stars above
and the city lights sparkling below. While Russell was putting water into the car to prevent
it from overheating, a mutual sailing friend of theirs came by, and the three started chatting
for a bit... a few minutes later we decided to head out towards Camps Bay for dinner.
At Camps Bay we parked the car by the water and ate at a nice restaurant called
"Blues" (an establishment which would easily be expensive in the States, yet with the
current exchange rate, just about all dishes were US$7.59 [R60] or less). Walking towards
the restaurant, it felt strange having solid ground under my feet, and I could feel myself
swaying a bit even while standing still (almost ready to anticipate the rocking motion of the
ship). The restaurant was packed and noisy, but we still enjoyed a nice dinner: as it's not
something I can often find at home, I ordered cajun ostrich (extremely tender and tasty), and
we all split a little bit of our respective orders. The final bill (I treated) was R197/US$24.94
(R227/US$28.73 with tip) — very reasonable for the type of restaurant it was.
Russell and Judith drove me back to the B&B, and we said goodbye... I'd call them
up upon returning again from Tristan, but there wouldn't really be enough time to get
together again. Back at the B&B at 12:15am, I found the key (left out for me in a hidden
place), and began sorting my pack, leaving items I wouldn't need for Tristan in a bag to keep
at the B&B. When finished, I took out my journal to start catching up... and after a shower,
went to sleep at 1:30am.
Jan. 18: Cape Town / RMS
Waking up at 7:00am today, I managed only a few hours of sleep — but at least it
was a nice one on solid land. Walking outside before breakfast, I decided to use the card
phone down the road past the KwikSpar to call my dad and hear a bit of news from
California. I also asked him to call Malaysian Airlines to reconfirm my flight back to
Malaysia for me, as I'd be at sea until 24hrs before, and was asked to reconfirm 3-7 days
beforehand (normally I wouldn't bother with this, but the segment between South Africa and
Malaysia was heavily booked).
Over breakfast I met Kritz's wife (who made the meal this morning). Though I had a
lot of things I needed to take care of before re-joining the RMS this afternoon, it was hard to
get away at first, as after breakfast Kritz wanted to play me a few Afrikaans CDs (including
one about various rugby teams called "The Cup Is Back" and another with a male Afrikaans
singer). Though anxious to start the day, I knew I was staying at a B&B and not a hotel
(where I could just scurry out the door) — and besides, Kritz and his wife were both
extremely nice people to talk with. It was 9:15am before I finally said goodbye (leaving with
them the RMS St. Helena duffel to keep until I returned on Jan. 31st) as I started down the
hill into town.
It was turning out to be another beautiful, warm Cape Town morning (with the more
typical cloud over Table Mountain), and the first place I stopped at was Gardens Centre... I
wanted to pick up another Philips pocket shaver at Clicks, but the sale price (R99.95) had
expired, and they were now back to R129.95 (US$16.45 at the current US$1=R7.9 rate). It
was only a matter of a few dollars though, and not thinking I'd have time later to look
further, I bought a spare (though I should have waited: later that morning, I found them for
R109.99/US$13.92 at GAME). In the stationary store, I bought two fine-point black, made-
in-Spain pens that tried to copy the look of the Berol Pilot pens I was using (R2.99/US39c
each), as well as a "Lucky 7s" lotto card — winning R3/US38c from my R2/US25c
investment, and cashing it in. As well, I picked up a bottle of SPF30 sunblock
(R38.95/US$4.93) in case I ran out of what I had and needed more.
Continuing down the hill, I once again passed the internet cafe I'd always pass
whenever walking to-and-from town (part of the Virtual Turtle i-cafe chain: 12 Mill Street,
next to a pharmacy and near the top of the Gardens, just down from the Mount Nelson
Hotel)... so I decided to stop and check my email (R0.50/min with a 10 minute minimum).
Emailing friends and family on a fast telnet connection, I also looked at some web pages
(including the St. Helena News) — and as a friend at home turned out to be online at the
same time, we emailed each other back and forth a few times. In the end, I was on longer
than planned — 40 minutes, at a cost of R20/US$2.53.
Leaving the internet cafe, I felt as if I had wasted too much time, even though I
enjoyed catching up on email and surfing the web. Stopping at the nearby Engen station, I
used the phone to reconfirm my flight with Malaysian Airlines in Cape Town, and called my
dad back to tell him he no longer needed to do it himself.
Walking next through the Company Gardens, I went to check out the new Jewish
Museum (which had been closed a few weeks ago). The museum (R20/US$2.53 entrance
fee) is brand new (opened by Nelson Mandela on 13 December 2000), and includes both a
look inside an old synagogue (the new one is next door), as well as a building filled with
multimedia displays about South African Jewry. The docents are friendly and eager to
answer any questions you might have, and one can easily spend hours looking at the
various exhibits. Unfortunately I didn't have as much time as I would have liked, but I did
learn a few things about Jews and South African history: in 1804 religious tolerance was
allowed when the Dutch India Company lost control of the Cape... as the British began
occupying the Cape in 1806, Jews began arriving (before, they would have had to have
practiced the same religion as the Dutch)... in 1880, there were about 4,000 Jews (mostly
Eastern European, though there were also British and German Jews), with many of them
settling in District Six... by 1860, many had moved north after diamonds and gold had been
discovered... in 1841, the first Jewish congregation was established in Johanessburg... in
1858, the first Jew was elected to the Cape Legislative Assembly... the mayor of Cape Town
from 1904-1907 was Jewish... around 1910 many Jews moved to Oudtshoorn (for ostrich
farming)... in 1902, immigration laws mandated that all immigrants must be able to speak
European languages (not Yiddish), but the law was amended in 1906 to include Yiddish... in
1930 though, limits were placed on the number of immigrants from heavily Jewish countries
such as Lithuania, Poland, and Russia, cutting off most Jewish immigration except from
Germany... in 1937, a "no unassimilateable" law was passed which placed Jews in that
catagory, effictively eliminating most Jewish immigration... for years, many Jews quietly
accepted apartheid — but not all, and a good number of white anti-apartheid protestors
were Jewish... and by the mid-1980s, the Jewish Board rejected apartheid openly. The
museum also has numerous displays and exhibits on the contributions of South African
Jews to society, highlighting famous people in varying fields from science to entertainment
to athletics.
From the museum I continued down into town, as the path which cuts through
Company Gardens becomes Adderly Street. On the way, I stopped to call the camera shop
to let them know I'd be in a bit later for the lens then originally planned.
Spending some time walking around, I stopped at Hungry Lion for a soft-serve cone
before going next door to Mr. Price, a low-cost clothing store chain. There, I found two nice
lightweight polo shirts with pockets (grey and aqua) for only R29.99/US$3.80 each before
returning back to Hungry Lion for another cone. Looking into nearby GAME (located inside
Grand Central, behind the outdoor flower area), I saw the pocket Philips shaver for R109.99
(oh well), though I did buy a pair of earbuds (more for the foam covers which had worn off
on my own set than for the actual buds themselves — R17.99/US$2.28). GAME is a very
good store which sells everything from electronics to hardware to food, and always seems to
be a bit cheaper (sometimes quite a bit cheaper) than their competitors. GAME did have a
good closeout price on a regular Philips shaver — R599.95/US$75.95 for a nice high-end
model, but had already sold their last one, with no other GAME locations downtown.
Continuing my walk, I stopped at a nearby pharmacy (a pharmacy is called an
"apteek" in Afrikaans) to look into buying some motion sickness pills: I had been OK on the
ship even during the rough return, but having been told that the waters near Tristan can be
even worse, decided to buy some medication just in case — as it would be much cheaper
here than seeing the doctor on the ship for a shot. Peter had suggested "Avomene" (a South
African medicine which had worked for him), so I bought a package for R24/US$3.04 —
though in the end I never had to use it.
Next, I decided to go back to the wholesale clothing area to look around... in the same
shop where I bought three South African hats last year, I bought a souvenir South African
cufflink (R5) for my knick-knack shelf. As the Townhouse Hotel was close by, I stopped for a
moment to see if Pat & Morris might be around... they had already gone out for the day, but
I left them a "have a nice time in South Africa" note. At the nearby City Library, I walked up
to the music floor to see if they had any music scores for sale (as last year they were selling
off lots of old scores for R1 each), but nothing was being sold today.
After walking around downtown for a while enjoying the day, it was time to go to the
camera repair shop to see about my lens. Back at Cape Camera Repair, I tried the lens
out... it seemed to be better, but not 100% fixed — so the technician came out to say the
fuzziness was due to the shutter, not the lens. I knew this wasn't true (as I've had
reincarnations of the same camera and lens for almost 20 years), but at least it was
somewhat better than before I brought it in. At R320/US$40.51 it was certainly cheaper
than trying to find a new lens, but after a few days it once again began experiencing the
same problems (with me having to wiggle it back and forth to get rid of the blurriness), and
bringing it in probably helped only marginally.
It was now around 1:00pm, and there wasn't much time until I was supposed to be
back on the RMS. Stopping in at Muchachos for a toasted (grilled) cheese sandwich
(R5.95/US75c), I went looking for a card phone in the area while the food was being cooked
(as the cashier said it would take 5 minutes to prepare). Usually green card phones are all
over the place, but after 10 minutes of searching, I could find only one card phone in the
area — and it wouldn't work for completing overseas calls.
After picking up the sandwich, I headed down for the docks, and at the CalTex
station outside the entrance, used the last of my South African coins to buy some corn chips
and a local paper. For some strange reason the payphones at the CalTex weren't completing
overseas calls either (what was wrong today?), but walking around Duncan Docks, I finally
found a working card phone. Besides calling home one last time to check for messages, I
also called Rikkis to see if they were still around (as I hadn't used them at all this year) —
they were, and as well as driving you around town on the cheap, they'll also take you to the
airport for R80.
I arrived back at the RMS at 2:10pm, and as I was a transit passenger, didn't have to
go through immigration. On board, I helped show a passenger where the South African card
phone was and how to use it before walking around the ship and talking a bit with Jenny, a
nice Saint on staff who usually works the lounges serving tea... she mentioned that while a
lot of the crew like and respect Captain Roberts, he's not as much of a "people person" as
Captain Smith is, commenting that Smith will come down and chat with the passengers in
the lounges more. Watching a new group of passengers board the ship for another voyage, I
commented that it must feel strange having to go through the same routine over and over for
each sailing — for just as you start to get to know some of the passengers, they leave and a
whole new bunch comes in... her reply was "you get used to it."
The RMS departed 5 minutes late at 4:05pm, with the Captain deciding to sail
around the Cape coast for a bit before heading out to sea (unlike the St. Helena runs which
tend to be more transportation-oriented, this Tristan voyage definitely had more of a
"pleasure" atmosphere to it). Though I didn't need to sit through the safety and life-
preserver lecture (as I had watched it before), I did so anyway to check out the group we had
on board this time. Unlike the St. Helena voyage (which had a perfect mix of Saints,
tourists, and people young and old in all different professions), this Tristan sailing was for
the most part made up of wealthy, retired British tourists (with a few South African
journalists along for a story). The demeanor of the passengers on this sailing was also
different: the Brits on board now were much less approachable than those who headed to
St. Helena, and were more apt to show off their status in life — not exactly the type of
personality I care for — which is why there weren't many groups formed during this sailing
(by anyone), and why I tended to hang out mostly with the journalists.
The Captain took us almost to the end of the Cape coastline before heading out to
sea, affording us some nice views of various rock formations (such as the 12 Apostles) as
well as the many small villages in the area. While looking at the coast, I met the four South
African journalists on board: Graham (a freelance writer on travel and wine who had taken
the RMS to St. Helena the previous year), Neil (who brought his kayak along, hoping to
circumnavigate the island in it), and Don and Callin, a team working for Getaway Magazine
(a South African outdoor monthly). After what the Tristanians considered some bad
publicity in the past (where they were scrutinized like lab rats), the island now often
requires journalists to receive permission before visiting... and Don mentioned that they
would be allowed to write on the island as long as they didn't write about the people.
Once we headed away from the coastline, I walked inside and spoke to Governor
Hollamby for a bit, talking about what we had done for our day off. In passing, he told me
he would actually prefer to eat at the earlier sitting, but protocol demanded he and his wife
eat at the later one with the Captain. Talking about the Saints, the Governor commented
that they always think they have it bad — but now that they have TV, they can see how
much worse off people in other parts of the world are (such as Mozambique or other parts of
Africa). I then met Bryan (the Tristan Administrator), who along with his wife Liz, had been
on a short vacation, but was now returning to the island. Mentioning that I had tried to
email him about staying at the guesthouse, Bryan told me his computer caught a virus, and
he hasn't seen any email since October (they were bringing a new computer with them to
install). He did say that while accomodation at the guesthouse wouldn't be possible this
time (due to others currently using it), staying on the island with a family wouldn't be a
problem, at a rate of £20/US$30 a night. Though I'd find out much more about Tristan over
the next few days, I did learn a few interesting things today: there are 283 people on the
island, with about 10 Tristanians living overseas (including Carol, one of the waitresses on
the RMS)... Bryan mentioned that the water on the island (from natural springs) is so pure
that it's currently being tested in South Africa with the hope of possibly bottling it for sale
overseas... 30%-40% of Tristanians can't read or write... and about 4-5 cruise ships pass by
the island each year.
For dinner that night, there were three other people seated at my table: Tanya (who
works at Curnow's Cape Town office), her husband Andre (an electrician — they were
married a few months ago and were taking this trip as their honeymoon), and Udo, a
German who operates hot air balloon flights 6 months a year in Germany and 6 months in
Paarl, South Africa (he used to work on high-tension wires before turning to ballooning).
Though they were all nice, there wasn't any sort of connection as happened with the "Table
16" group on the St. Helena voyage, and dinnertime turned out to be pretty boring without
much in common to discuss (until the return — when I switched tables to join some others).
At first, Tanya kept calling me by my last name (addressing me as "Mr.") until I finally told
her "hey, you're not working now... you're on vacation! It's Larry!"
After dinner I walked outside and met Simon, a Brit in his mid 30s who became
interested in Tristan at the age of 15 by way of stamp collecting. A while back, one of the
island's ex-Administrators came to live in Simon's village, and ever since hearing about
Tristan, he's wanted to visit. Nice (if perhaps a bit overexcited), we'd hang out from time to
time — especially as most others on the ship were retirement age and not as down-to-earth
as Simon. At 9:00pm we watched the last bit of light disappear at the horizon before a
sudden bit of drizzle came from the half-cloudy sky.
Inside the lounge, I met three interesting fellows who were visiting Tristan to help give
the island its first telvision capability: while Tristan (like St. Helena) has had videos for
years, there's no actual television reception on the island... so the company with the Tristan
crayfish contract was paying for an experiment to see if any television signals could be
picked up (eager to please, as their contract would be up for renewal soon). Along with a
representative of the South African-owned fishing concern was a professor from the
University of Cape Town and an assistant (originally from Austria)... they would be setting
up the two dishes they brought with them on the RMS (one American, one Russian).
Unfortunately Tristan da Cunha is too far south to be able to receive the DSTV satellite
signal (an African satellite TV service) and apparently the only signals available are the US
military's Armed Forces Radio/TV service (asking permission to receive them garnered an
immediate "no") or the British Armed Forces TV (who granted permission). So the three guys
would spend a few weeks on the island (returning on one of the fishing vessels later) setting
up the two dishes to see what signals could be picked up.
Talking to the satellite team, I found out for the first time that there are alternate
ways to get to Tristan da Cunha — the South African research vessel "SA Agulhas" makes
the trip once a year, and it's also possible to travel on one of the two fishing ships (the
Edinburgh or the Kelso). If you opt for a fishing ship it's extremely cheap (around US$200
— about 1/8th the price of the RMS — lowered to US$100 if you're Tristanian), but
arrangements must be made to see if there's space, as each carries only about 20
passengers. You must also follow the fishing ship's schedule, and as a tourist, are given
lowest priority (meaning you could be stuck on the island until the following ship if enough
islanders want to go on the current sailing, as you'll be bumped in favor of them). As I was
complaining that the fishing vessel sounded more like the type of boat I wanted to be on
rather than the RMS with its shuffleboard and deck quoits, the guys invited me to return
with them if I wanted to — but the current fishing ship wouldn't be scheduled to return to
Cape Town until Feb. 11 — the day after I was to fly home from Malaysia (and the day I was
to start work again in Los Angeles).
My roommate for this voyage was an Afrikaaner man in his 50s named Willie
(pronounced "Villie")... from Johannesburg, he worked at a mine, and seemed the most
unlikely type of person to be on such a voyage (when I asked what prompted him to visit
Tristan, his reply was "it's something different") — and in fact he told me that he had booked
the trip as a last minute decision just a few days ago (otherwise I would have had the cabin
to myself). Though we got along OK, we didn't really click, and rarely saw too much of each
other outside the cabin. One problem was that he was a smoker... the RMS has no policy
regarding smoking in the cabins, but I had requested a non-smoking roommate (even if it
meant moving to another cabin). When Willie booked at the last minute, I assume Tanya
informed him about my request for a non-smoker, for he volunteered not to smoke in the
cabin (nice of him, but he'd still go out in the middle of the night to smoke and come back
reeking of an ashtray, making the small, enclosed cabin smell of smoke). I certainly couldn't
fault him for his habit, but the cabin always seemed to have a constant low-grade cigarette
smell with him around (and just to be on the safe side, I hid the ashtray in my one lockable
drawer).
My cabin was once again C49 — the only two-person budget cabin with a porthole.
Being able to board the RMS earlier than others (as I didn't have to go through immigration),
I set my things down on the top bunk... though when I later asked Willie if he'd like the top
bunk himself, he replied that he preferred the bottom (at least that worked out).
While wandering the halls in the evening, I actually found the one public bath on
board that Kevin had told me about (on B level at the end of the hallway... though I didn't
take a bath tonight, I'd use it later on the trip). Looking in the pantry, I noticed there still
wasn't any hot cocoa (I was hoping they'd have stocked up in Cape Town) — though when I
asked a few days later, one of the staff managed to find a can. With some long days with
little sleep recently, I decided to call it a night when finished with my journal at 11:15pm.
Jan. 19: RMS [Tristan Info]
There were two separate rattles in the cabin, and I didn't sleep much during the night
because of them. I can't recall hearing them when I was in the same cabin and bunk a few
weeks earlier, so I'm not sure why I was hearing them now, except perhaps being at the end
of the hallway the cabin was closer to the engines, and some excess vibrations might be
causing at least one of the rattles (coming from the door area) — though the other (a rattle
everytime the ship pitched in one direction, reliable as clockwork) was more puzzling.
Besides the cabin noise there was my roomate Willie, who at 2:30am this morning turned on
the light and left the cabin to smoke, returning a few minutes later smelling like an ashtray.
With almost no sleep during the night, I was pretty much in a daze for most of the day.
Over breakfast this morning I met more of my fellow passengers, including a retired
747 pilot from Britain and a young Swede interested in Tristan bird life. Tubby (the head
waiter) repeated something others had also told me: that no one was happy with the engines
on the ship, and hopefully they'll finally be dumped in favor of some more-reliable Japanese
ones. He and Michael then said that the RMS was originally meant to be 50ft longer than it
wound up being — and because of its size being cut due to cost concerns, the pitch of the
waves are felt much more than if it had been a larger ship. Joining us also for breakfast
was a vulcanologist with the British Government, who would spend a month on Tristan
studying its volcano, trying to formulate a plan for evacuation should it erupt again (as it did
in the 1960s).
After breakfast I went out on deck... it was cloudy and cool, but a few people were out
looking for birds. On board the ship was a South African named Warham, who in exchange
for free passage on the RMS (in a private cabin — though he received no salary), would
conduct daily bird watchings and give lectures on various subjects about the islands.
Unfortunately there weren't many birds out today, and Warham commented that
countinued use of long-lined fishing nets by some countries have caused a huge decrease in
the number of birds, including the albatross.
Going up to the bridge for a look around, Jolene (the current 3rd mate) was on duty...
a young, sweet soft-spoken Saint, I'd wind up talking with her quite a bit over the next two
weeks (she had been on leave in the UK for the past 6 months, but was re-joining the ship
with the Tristan sailing). Hearing that I had just come back from St. Helena, she was
curious what I thought of the island — and when I mentioned I was a musician and had met
Eric George, she told me he had been her piano teacher when she was young, as her
grandfather had taught Eric piano many years ago. As she first went overseas at age 6, she
became used to the outside world early on, but mentioned that when she goes to Cape Town
or the UK with 16 or 17 year old first-timers who have never left St. Helena before, they can't
believe everything the see, often wanting to do things like ride the lifts and escallators up
and down for fun. Jolene saw her first video when she was 6 (she's at most in her early 20s
now), and though TV is relatively new on the island, most young Saints today have grown up
watching videos. Jolene has been with Curnow for 4 years, and as with most officers, is
qualified for one level above her current status (though 3rd mate, she's qualified to handle
the job of 2nd mate).
From the bridge window I could see workers down below setting up mesh netting
around the outside cargo area... Jolene said it was so people could play deck tennis there
(even though it was quite windy), as the cargo load to Tristan was light: just some general
cargo and a JCB (an earth-mover — what Americans would call a Catapillar). While on the
bridge I also asked one of the officers about the "Tristan da Cunha" kombi (van) I had seen
at Duncan Docks, and was told it belongs to the Tristan House (a place in Cape Town run
by a Tristanian in charge of looking after any islanders who come to South Africa for
vacation or medical treatment, as well as buying and procuring items for the island).
A bit later in the morning it was time for a game of deck quoits out on the funnel
deck... I played against Governor Hollamby, and it was extremely close (he won by only one
point). While playing, we talked about various things, and when he found out I had
attended Juilliard in New York, mentioned that while stationed in the city he'd park his car
in front of the Chinese embassy across the street from Juilliard to attend the opera at
Lincoln Center, as the car had diplomatic plates on it. He also talked about working in
Dallas (at the British trade office), and told some pretty good jokes.
As today would be yet another Captain's cocktail party for me, I didn't want to eat a
large lunch, so I decided to have three bowls of cream-of-asparagus soup (as the bowls are
very shallow and small) and two orange sorbets, skipping the main lunch course entirely.
For lunch I sat at a table with Susan, a nice lady who lives on a rural cattle farm in
South Africa with her husband and son, though she was travelling alone. Sitting there at
the table (and for the rest of the Tristan voyage), the one thing immediately apparent was
that just about every Brit on this trip was a non-stop talker — usually in loud, bragging
voices. This wasn't the case with the Brits on the recent St. Helena sailing, but almost
without exception, these Brits just wouldn't shut up. The poor South Africans and
Europeans on board would sit back patiently while being bombarded with incessant brags,
only occasionally being able to get a soft word in edgewise. I realize that Americans can
often be known for this as well, but perhaps being on St. Helena had put me in a mellower
mood... sitting back and looking around at everyone on the ship, it was amazing how
consistantly the South Africans and Europeans would partake quietly in conversation, while
the Brits had almost a complusion to prove they were one better than the person sitting next
to them. This was so different than the many wonderful Brits I met on the St. Helena
sailing, and was one of the primary reasons why people didn't form close groups on this trip
— most were too busy trying to show off. This is also one of the reasons I spent so much
time talking with the crew, as other than the journalists, they were about the only real
people on a ship filled with self-centered passengers. I could certainly hold my own with
these Brits in conversation, but had no desire to do so. For instance, one older Brit was a
self-described German-phile who would talk incessantly about everything he thought he
knew on classical music and opera... as I'm a classically-trained violinist who plays in an
opera orchestra, I could partake in an "I know as much as you do" conversation with him,
though it wouldn't have given me any satisfaction or pleasure. There was a retired pianist
on board as well, but even with all soon "approving" of me, I could only stand so much of
this attitude, and seeing them only occasionally throughout the day for a short conversation
would be enough. About the only Brits on board not pompous were the retired British
Airways pilot, the vulcanologist, Simon, and those few who had also been on the earlier St.
Helena sailing (a retired couple from Wales, Cecelia the flutist, and her friend John).
Looking back, I realize that almost every person I hung out with on this voyage was either
South African or a Saint.
At lunch, Mrs. Governor came to sit down with us at the table. Though she was
eager to engage in conversation, it was almost exclusively about herself (how as a diplomat's
wife she must do this and that)... she also ordered her food specially-prepared ("I want this,
but put that dressing on the side... and don't pull the bread crusts off on mine...") and I
suddenly began to feel quite sorry for the Governor.
After lunch I went to read a bit more of "Red October"... even though the novel was
turning out to be quite disappointing, I was determined to finish it before arriving, as I
wanted to leave it on Tristan (figuring the island could always use another book).
There was a bridge tour today, but even though I wanted to go on it again, didn't sign
up in order to give those who hadn't yet been on one a chance. Later as the tour was
finishing though, I wandered up to the bridge for the conclusion. Though I had heard most
of the information before, I did learn that the ship consumes 1 ton of fuel each hour. As the
tour petered out, people stayed on the bridge to ask questions about Tristan... and no
sooner did that start than other passengers eagerly began butting in to show how much they
knew on the subject — not chiming in to be helpful, but literally yelling over each other's
voices to make sure everyone was aware of how much they knew. It was so loud in fact
(especially as one gentleman had a booming operatic voice) that no one could even hear soft-
spoken Jolene as she tried to answer the questions. Walking up to her, I asked if she could
repeat her answer as we both smiled... she was obviously used to this. Suddenly, hearing
these people clawing to be heard over one another, I began to realize just how loud most
people really are (myself included — though these Brits were definitely the extreme). I
suppose that's the way our society is, but seeing the ugliness of it right in front of me made
me realize how much we all need to stand back and take a moment to reflect on how much
bluster we can do without.
Out on the sun deck I had a chance to meet the South African doctor and his family,
who would be spending the next 13 months on Tristan as the island's new doctor. An
Afrikaaner, the doc seemed a bit aloof at first, but I think it was more the difficulty in
understanding his English than anything else, as he and his family turned out to be quite
friendly. His wife is a nurse, and their two pre-teen kids (daughter and son) were extremely
well-behaved. The doctor was looking forward to the assignment, commenting that "it
should be an adventure"... and when I later asked the kids how they felt about spending a
year on a remote island, they also said they were looking forward to it — though I wonder
how much they'll miss their friends and life at home. While there is a school on the island,
the mom told me she'd be home-schooling her kids instead with a Christian method from
the United States. The doc mentioned that while there are usually 4-5 nurses on the island,
2 will shortly be leaving for 6 months, and he heard one of the main problems with island
medical care is that even if the local nurses are trained in certain things, because of the
small island population, it may literally be years before they encounter a problem once
trained for — and by the time it occurs years later, they'll have forgotten what to do.
After sitting down to read a bit more and talk with Graham, I went to the ship's store,
as it would close at 5:00pm instead of 5:30pm today due to the Captain's cocktail party.
Inside, the store was now out of the gummy candy I liked, as Carl reminded me that they
don't stock up in Cape Town, but only in the UK. Disappointed, I walked back outside to
catch up on my journal for a bit until it was time for the cocktail party.
At the cocktail party tonight I had a chance to speak with Bryan (the current British
Administrator on Tristan) and listen as he imparted some information on the island to eager
ears (something I'm sure he was quite tired of doing, though he was kind enough never to
show it): on Tristan schooling is mandatory until age 15, but stops on your 15th birthday
(there's only one school, with 29 current pupils)... the birth rate on the island is dropping...
last year there were 8 babies born (all girls), though previously there were 9 boys in a row...
boys aren't as keen on leaving the island as the girls are, as the boys have a life in front of
them they can see (fishing) so often don't take school as seriously — whereas the girls often
realize that there isn't much on the island for them other than being a housewife and
mother — and they know from an early age who their choices for husbands are... a few kids
(usually girls) will go on to continue studying on St. Helena after age 15, but not many...
there's full employment on the island: men work, and if a woman wants to work she can get
a job too... everyone works for his/her own self: Bryan once suggested "why not build a
dairy?", but people prefer to keep their cows as their own... still, there's a spirit of
cooperation on Tristan, where the entire island will come out to help build someone's
home... Bryan commented that "instead of having 10-12 close friends as I've had in previous
postings, here I have 283 close friends" (the current population of the island)... there are a
few ex-pats who stay on the island for longer periods of time (such as the doctor or priests)
— and sometimes a post will remain empty for a few months between the departure of the
old person and the arrival of the new, in which case the position is filled temporarily by a
local layperson (as is the case with priests)... the Administrator (appointed by the Governor
of St. Helena) usually serves for a 3-year term... as Tristan is a dependent of St. Helena, full
British citizenship for Tristanians was stripped away in the 1980s along with the Saints, but
the Tristanians are a more independent lot, and as there is full employment and not much
desire to leave the island, getting their full citizenship back doesn't mean as much to
Tristanians as it does to Saints... there's usually a weekly dance in Prince Philip Hall... the
total yearly budget for Tristan is about £750,000/US$1,125,000 — with about £100,000 for
medical and £60,000 for communications... Bryan mentioned that Tristanians can speak
"normal" English (and usually do when they're around non-islanders), but amongst
themselves speak a sort of shorthand, dropping certain words and speaking very fast...
today's island population is still descended from the original eight women on Tristan, and
the new doctor mentioned that close to 40% of islanders have asthma — not only from the
harsh weather, but from heredity, traced back to two of the original eight women (sisters)...
according to the Italian video shown a few days ago, the custom is not to get married until
after a couple has a child, but the Administrator said this isn't always the case now, and
when done, it's more for practicality's sake... there's a golf course on the island ("sort of", as
Bryan put it)... the Administrator must wear several different hats: Administrator, head of
the Government, magistrate, judge and jury... in his 3 years on the island he has tried only
1 case... there's a jail, but it's only been used once in the last 20 years (to put a drunk in
overnight) and there isn't any real crime other than drunkenness (Conrad, the island's one
policeman, later told me that the prison is now stuffed with rescue equipment)... even with
all the potato patches, the islanders don't brew their own alcohol but import it instead
(including lots of Castle beer)... the mainstays of the economy are crayfish and postage
stamps... there are currently 44 cars on Tristan, a sharp increase from the 6 cars registered
in 1997... and last year, 4-5 cruise ships called on the island.
After the cocktail party and dinner down below with Tanya, Andre, and Udo, I walked
up to the bridge area at 8:30pm, staying for almost an hour. At 8:45pm there was a
beautiful sunset, and I enjoyed talking to the Saint watchman on duty outside: he's been
with the RMS for 20 years and lives in Half Tree Hollow when not working. While he's on
the RMS his son watches his house, but his daughter has married and settled in the UK.
When talked turned to his island, he told me that as much as he loves it, "you don't want to
live on St. Helena... it's too slow, I think" — though he'll retire after a few more years and
return there to live.
Down below the evening's entertainment was to start at 9:30pm, but didn't actually
get underway until almost 10:00pm. While sitting in the smoking area of the lounge (as only
one small section is non-smoking), two "proper" British gents came over about to light their
cigarettes, complaining that a lady had just told them she wanted a non-smoking area on
THIS side of the lounge instead of THAT side (and though I secretly wished the entire lounge
could have been non-smoking myself, the lady's reaction was typical of the type of person on
board this sailing). Just as I was about to move to the non-smoking area myself, the two
gents found out that the evening's entertainment was to be bingo, and said "let's leave... it's
the lower-class that likes bingo" — and left, with their just-poured coffee on the table
untouched. After this wonderful display of upper-class British behavior, I decided that
maybe I should play bingo tonight even though I hadn't planned on doing so... the £2/US$3
book of 5 cards didn't win me any money, but was a nice way to pass the time, with Nigel
reading off numbers while trying to make puns and jokes with them.
Even though we'd be setting the clocks back one hour tonight I was pretty tired, and
by 10:50pm left to get ready for bed. As I sat on the seat in the C-deck bathroom, the
constant drone of engine noise nearby suddenly began to wind down and stop. Uh-oh.
Instead of going to bed, I decided to go up to the bridge to see what was wrong. Outside,
tons of black soot was coming from the funnel, and around the bridge it was dark —
completely dark. Though I later found out that the bridge is always left dark at night as a
safety precaution (in order to make it easier to see), it spooked me as I looked in to see
Jolene and the Captain frantically looking around with a flashlight. The speed indicator
(outside and just above the port entrance door to the bridge) was reading 6.0 — less than
half the speed we should have been going, and looking down at the water below, it was
obvious we were now moving at a snail's pace. Not wanting to bother the crew (as they
looked busy enough), I stayed outside the door, though a Brit came up and walked onto the
bridge to ask what was going on (at which point I walked in as well to hear the answer)...
Captain Roberts admitted that yes, they had indeed lost an engine, but everything was
under control and they were in the process of looking at it now. When I asked if power for
the lights comes from the engine, he said it does, but that they also have generators (as
other than the bridge — which I later found out was supposed to be dark — all the other
lights on the ship were working). A few minutes later the nice retired couple from Wales
came up as well, saying they had heard the sound of a generator cranking up. We both
looked up at the incredibly starry sky (even nicer up on the bridge tonight with no moon or
lights to impair the view), but with some sudden clouds and drizzle coming by about 10
minutes later, I decided to go back down to the cabin. Willie (who had been asleep) was up
now, and when I told him about the engine, he got dressed to go up and have a look himself.
At midnight (now 11:00pm after the time change), I went up for a quick look again with
Willie, and felt the boat now rocking quite a bit (at first I thought we had picked up speed,
but the indicator still read just 7.0 — without much speed or working stabilizers, the swells
could be felt quite a bit more). Deciding to then write a bit more in my journal, I left for the
main lounge where the scheduled dance was finished and a few people were watching "Mr.
Holland's Opus."
Before going to sleep I went up to the bridge for one last look... the clouds were now
gone and the stars out once more, but little else had changed: we were still on one engine,
and because of that, the boat was gently rocking from side to side. Finally at 11:27pm (new
time), the second engine started up again.
Note: before the engine trouble, I found out that the Captain had altered course
slightly in order to sail directly into the swells instead of their sides... all-in-all though, the
water on this voyage would be smooth — possibly one of the smoothest sailings ever to
Tristan.
Jan. 20: RMS [Bridge Tour / Tristan Info]
Last night I took a sleeping pill, sleeping soundly for 3 hours, after which it was on-
and-off again until morning. Deciding to do just a bit of exercise, I went on the cycle for only
10 minutes today — and interesingly, though the ship's passengers were much older on this
run than the St. Helena voyage, the exercise room was always much busier.
Though it was cloudy early on, the sun soon came out, and I spent much of the
morning talking with Susan (the South African cattle rancher) and Graham. Though her
farm is still active, Susan said it's on the market — but to date there have been no takers
(though she also commented that she wouldn't know what to do with herself if they actually
did sell it). At 9:30am Warham held his daily morning bird-watching session for those
interested, but no birds were yet spotted.
Talking to the head of the satellite TV team, he showed me a printout of a weather
map downloaded off the internet he intended to show the Captain, as with all the technology
at the disposal of the RMS, the ship receives only the sketchy hand-drawn weather maps
provided by the South African Weather Bureau rather than the true satellite images. The
RMS does connect four times a day to the internet (via satellite), and it would be quite easy
for Curnow to send the ship a daily satellite weather map of the area they're in either by
email or FAX — but for some reason, this isn't done (why am I not surprised?) and seems
almost negligent on Curnow's part, especially as the hand-drawn maps (which come over the
ship's FAX) don't seem to arrive on a regular basis and aren't always accurate. Once the
Captain saw the printout he was impressed, saying he'd pass the idea along — but
something tells me two years from now nothing will have changed. Meeting up with the new
doctor inside, I borrowed a home video of Tristan someone had given him (filmed June-July
2000) to watch later on.
This morning another bridge tour was offered, and wanting to take it again to find out
more interesting information (as well as what happened with the engines last night), I signed
up for it. Jolene was the presenter, and told us there was both a port engine failure as well
as a power failure — and though the ship's generators soon kicked in, the delay caused a
failure of the steering radar and port stabilizer. Because of this, we were drifting off course
last night, and steering had to be done manually in order to get back on course (though
steering was restored after 15 minutes, it took 1.5 hours before the engine came back
online). As well, a ship headed from Argentina to Africa was detected on the radar last
night, and with the RMS having major problems, they altered course in order to avoid it by
12 miles (more than the usual amount — they also tried to reach the ship by radio, but its
crew didn't speak English very well). When I asked about the bridge being dark, Jolene told
us that it's standard practice to darken the bridge at night (with light only behind a curtain
in back where the charts are) in order to make it easier to spot other ships and debris.
Continuing on with the general bridge tour, Jolene showed us once again the
difference between the ship's speed gauge (with speed measured by water passing over it)
reading 11.3, and the ship's GPS indicator (much more accurate), which read 13.2 at the
same time. Also, Jolene pointed out the ship's echo sounder, saying it works up to a depth
of 1,200 meters — though according to the charts, the area we were currently passing
through was slightly over 5,000 meters. Asking about the stabilizers, I found out they're 7
feet long and are either full out or full in, never half-way.
While the tour was going on, the Captain came up to the bridge to get the targets and
rifles for the clay pigeon shoot, and Susan jokingly asked him if there was a mutiny on
board. Half-laughing, the Captain went out to play with the passengers — he was definitely
more in his element with this crowd of people than with those on the usual St. Helena run.
Talking to Jolene after the tour, when I asked how she wound up in her current job,
she answered that she loves the sea, and always wanted to work around it. Originally she
had hoped to study marine biology, but there are usually only two scholarships available for
young Saints to continue their studies overseas (if not they must pay all expenses on their
own — and as they currently aren't full British citizens, education for them in the UK would
be twice the cost). Not feeling confident that she'd be one of the two chosen, she instead
decided to apply for the RMS... there was a notice advertising two openings on the ship for
males (they alternate between asking for males and females, but at the time were looking for
males), but applied anyway — and was quite surprised when she received the position to
train for the ship. The training took 3.5 years — half in a UK maritime school and half on a
ship (because Curnow has only the one ship, they work out agreements with other shipping
lines to send students onto other ships for training)... Jolene wound up spending some time
on a dredger, a container ship, and the QE2 as well as the RMS.
From the shortwave radio on the bridge, I heard the BBC — and having been out of
the news for weeks now, realized there was a distant world out there where things are much
more complicated than on St. Helena or out at sea. The news today: President Estrada of
the Philippines resigned... the transfer of power in Washington DC to a new President was
just a few hours away... and an oil tanker ran aground off the Galapagos Islands.
For lunch I went downstairs for soup and dessert before going up for breaded veal in
the sun lounge with the satellite gang. I then took the home video of Tristan into the
children's room to watch with a few other passengers... the video showed no people, but
plenty of sights on the island, as well as pictures of the Edinburgh fishing ship.
After the video, I went for a relaxing dip in the pool for a half-hour, trying to "swim"
as much as I could around the tiny pool's perimeter. Due to the ship rocking, water was
splashing up onto the deck, and looking up at the sky, the moon seemed to move around in
circles while I seemed to stay in the same place. The doctor's two kids were in the pool as
well, and when I asked them what they thought about staying on Tristan for a year,
answered politely "it should be an adventure, sir."
Drying off, I relaxed on the side of the ship (for shade) as I heard an announcement
for certain staff to meet up on the bridge. Going up myself to see what was happening, the
Captain (in play clothes) was holding a meeting, and I was temporarily shooed away. There
was soon another announcement for the electrical engineer to come up, and I could only
assume that the problems with the ship weren't yet fixed.
As just another indication of the different type of passenger on this voyage than the
St. Helena one, by the early afternoon there had already been two announcements for
passengers that incoming satellite telephone calls were waiting for them.
At 5:00pm I went into the sun lounge for a slide presentation by Warham on some of
the various birds we would hopefully see on and around Tristan. Though not a bird-watcher
myself, it was nonetheless interesting, as Warham gives some great lectures.
After dinner I went up to the bridge hoping to see the sunset, but with clouds now in
the sky, there wasn't much of one. After speaking to another Saint watchman, I talked with
Andre a bit, the representative of Ovenstone (the South African company with the license to
fish off Tristan, and the ones sponsoring the satellite TV project)... Ovenstone owns the two
fishing vessels (the Edinburgh and the Kelso) as well as running the island's fish-processing
plant where the crayfish is frozen and boxed... though they are paying for the satellite TV
project, Governor Hollamby earlier suggested that they're doing it out of their own self-
interest, as they're on year 4 of a 5 year contract, with the license granting them exclusive
rights to fish off of Tristan up for renewal next year... though Andre didn't know offhand how
much his company pays the Tristan Government for the rights to fish in their waters, he did
say that as well as paying the government, they also pay the fishermans' wages — a monthly
flat rate plus commission on fish caught. They also operate the 3 diesel generators which
supply power to the island, and while each house used to receive only 5W of power, it's now
15W per house — with the power staying on from 6:00am to midnight now (the government
pays for the electricity and distributes it to the people, who pay the government for it)...
there are no real phones on the island (on a settlement so small, why would you need any?
You can just walk to all your fellow islanders) — and as Tristan has no country code, the
company's telephone number is an INMARSAT "871" satellite number. If people on the
island wish to make a telephone call, they can go to the radio-phone operator (with a radio
link to South Africa), though they now have the option of a more-expensive (but better
quality) satellite call... a dentist visits the island once each year... and Ovenstone expects to
have 100 tons of crayfish on the Edinburgh when it next leaves Tristan.
Staying up on the bridge after Andre left, I spoke a bit more with Jolene... as it began
to get dark, a deckhand (Jolene's cousin) came up to practice his manual steering on the
bridge (he was in training). Turning off the autopilot and trying to keep the course at 261,
he did a pretty good job at the wheel (it's not just a matter of steering straight — with the
swells, you have to constantly adjust your course). If he did 11 hours of training (one hour
at a time) he would qualifty for steering — and he was on his 6th hour tonight. When I
asked if it was difficult, he said the hardest thing was just standing in the same place for an
hour without moving, not being able to sit. Jolene mentioned that a few months ago a
British passenger wanted to steer, and when another then wanted to try it, they began
fighting over the wheel and the ship went way off course, with it being hard to pull them
away.
Before dinner I sat down with the Governor and his wife for a bit, and the Mrs. began
complaining about someone who had been smoking where they weren't supposed to. Angry
that none of the Saint staff would do anything about it, she leaned forward to say "the
Saints are all afraid to speak up to a white man!" (she's from El Salvador herself). A bit later
while speaking to Jolene about Saint characteristics, I mentioned this to her, and she
quietly agreed somewhat, saying that Saints don't like confrontation.
By 9:00pm the bridge was dark, with only Jolene and myself in the room (at times I'm
sure the open bridge policy can be a burden on the officers, but at other times, they seem to
welcome the company... as a 4-hour shift can really seem to last forever at night when it's
dark and you're alone). Turning on the BBC, I heard a bit of news again: Estrada left office
in the Philippines, and Bush had taken over as President. Talking about some of her
assignments aboard other ships, Jolene mentioned she'd prefer to be on a container vessel
rather than a cruise ship, as the container crews entertain themselves, and seem more fun
than the staff on cruise ships.
At 9:30pm it was time for frog racing again down in the lounge. I lost 40p on each of
the first two races, and was once again drafted to take part in the "international" race (I
knew it was coming and should have just left the room, but as I finally got the hang of how
to move the frog too late the last time, I wanted to have another go at it myself). Governor
Hollamby was drafted as a "Saint" (as there were no Saint passengers on board), and sat
down next to me. In the end "Norway" won — but I actually came in 2nd. Happy to regain
my wounded pride, I turned in early at 11:20pm.
Jan. 21: RMS [Tristan Info]
I had my first good night's sleep since the start of the Tristan sailing last night,
turning out the light at 11:20pm and not waking up until 6:20am. Going up to the exercise
room, someone was already on the cycle... but after waiting, I managed to use it for 15
minutes.
It was a gorgeous day today, with low swells and a clear blue sky. Walking up to the
bridge area before breakfast, I tried to go in for a look at an updated weather map, but the
Captain said "no", and kept everyone out while a meeting was going on.
In today's Ocean Mail, it was announced that Warham would be leading some guided
walks on Tristan — both a historical walk of the Edinburgh settlement, as well as a walk
down to the seals and penguins. Speaking with him outside the bridge, Warham said that
while he'd be happy to have me along, I'd probably be better off on my own — as they'd be
going at a snail's pace due to all the old ladies on board (he himself was retired, but in
excellent shape). Saying his "old lady" walks would eat up too much valuable time, he
volunteered to show me where to go beforehand and answer any questions I might have.
After breakfast I went out on deck to do a bit of reading, also finding out what the all-
important meeting on the bridge was about: there had been more engine problems, and at
8:45am the Captain was on the ship's PA informing passengers that due to "serious
problems" with the port engine cylinder head, they'd be stopping the engine for 6-12 hours
in order to attempt repairs on it out at sea. With only one engine, our top speed would be 7
knots — so our arrival time at Tristan was now scheduled for noon on Tuesday instead of
7:00am (a lie, for unless extra time was made up, 6-12 hours would be 1:00pm-7:00pm, not
noon). The Captain assured us we'd still have the same amount of time on the island as if
the engines hadn't given any trouble, but I think at this point he was exaggerating. When
finished with Tristan, the ship was scheduled to do a sail-by down at Gough Island before
returning back to Cape Town, and I soon hoped that if worse came to worse, the Captain
would give up on Gough in favor of enough time on Tristan (which is after all what everyone
was on board for) — though I doubted this by-the-book Captain would do it. At exactly
9:00am, the port engine was turned off.
After the announcement I went down to the copy room near the purser's bureau to
copy the Edinburgh sections of a large Tristan map the vulcanologist had lent me. A bit
later (once the bureau had opened) I went down again to sign the required indemnity form
which all passengers who wish to disembark onto Tristan must sign. Back out on deck,
birds were being spotted (including a few petrels and an albatross), and there was an
interesting sight down on the poop deck: fishing lines. In his announcement earlier, the
Captain commented that the "bright side" to the engine failure was that with our new slower
speed, they'd put out some fishing lines to try to catch some fish. Two lines were cast out
into the sea, but even at our slow speed, the one engine still made enough wake to scare
away the fish, and nothing was caught.
Out on deck, I talked with the vulcanologist for a bit, missing the church service...
he's been sent around the world to look at various volcanos, and had a beef about
sensationalist TV news coverage scaring people and taking answers out of context.
At 11:15am there was a meeting to discuss some of the various tours to be offered on
the island... afterwards, the Administrator's wife Liz stood up and kindly offered her house
as an available loo or watering station for anyone who needs it, as there's only one public
bathroom on the island (though if one really needs to go, I found that the Catholic Church
has a nice, clean bathroom as well). Bryan (the Administrator) then stood up and gave a bit
of information: there are no credit cards accepted on the island (they tried to look into them
on a limited basis like St. Helena, but the credit card companies require charges to be
cleared within 30 days — something impossible to do on Tristan right now)... there is no
special Tristan money, and the pound (British, St. Helenan, or Ascension) is what's used on
the island... you can change travellers checks (pounds, rand or US$) at the government
office... and there's a 9-hole "golf course" on the island, though Bryan commented that you
must "share it with the cows" — it's a par 36 for 9 holes.
Speaking to Bryan this morning, he had changed his mind regarding people staying
overnight on the island, telling me that while it was still OK with him, the Captain didn't
want anyone staying over. However the four journalists were being allowed to stay (as well
as the Governor and his party), and when I commented that "the journalists and Governor
will need to get back on the RMS... 25 people can fit in the launch and only a handful have
asked about staying on the island... I don't see the problem", he just shrugged and said it
was the Captain's decision. When I later talked to Graham about this, he felt really bad for
me — especially when I told him that had I wanted to, I could have truthfully said I was a
journalist myself, as I've been a contributing writer for a magazine in the past (concerning
animation, not travel — but it still makes me a published journalist). Relating some stories
of how he had fudged his own credentials in the past (it's part of the job), Graham
commisserated with me... but in the end, it appeared my unwillingness to stretch the truth
would keep me from staying on the island (I couldn't very well go up to Bryan now and say
"I'm a journalist too!" after it had been made clear that only journalists would be allowed to
stay on the island). The Captain's arguement was that the weather on Tristan can change
very fast (true), and if it were to start turning bad and the ship had to leave, the less people
on the island the better — but only a few of us had asked about staying on the island, with
only myself and Simon continuing to inquire.
Sunday was curry day again for lunch, and afterwards I walked back out onto the
deck, spotting a wandering albatross and some petrels. Going up to the bridge, I noticed
that our speed (according to the more-accurate GPS indicator) was currently 10.2 with still
just one engine (the Saint officer mentioned you could actually go as fast as 12-13 knots on
one engine if you really want to push it).
In the afternoon I had a chat with Bryan, who graciously sat down with me to answer
my questions about Tristan da Cunha — and my "10 minutes" soon turned into two hours:
the Administrator's term is usually 2 years of actual island time — though it can be
extended to 3 years (which Bryan did). He and his wife Liz have now been on Tristan for 3
years, but still have about 5-6 months left due to them taking some vacations. Though they
have both loved Tristan and its people, their next posting will be on the Solomon Islands...
when I asked about the islanders' reported dislike of journalists, Bryan said it was
exaggerated, but that about 10 years ago they felt some journalists had mis-represented life
on the island, and since then, have been more cautious about which journalists they allow
and what can and cannot be covered (likewise, many must now pay a hefty price for a
limited number of journalist permits — though not all needed them, apparently). The
islanders don't have any problem with people reporting on the island, but when reporters try
to put the Tristanians themselves under a magnifying glass, they get upset... all the
islanders can be traced back to 8 original women... until recently there have been only 7
family names on Tristan, and every Tristanian is either a Hagen or Rodgers (descendants of
American whalers), Lavarello or Repetto (Italian), Swain (British), Glass (Scottish), or Green
(Dutch — originally Groen). However there is now an 8th name on the island — Elsmore: a
while back, a young Tristanian lady (a Repetto) left the island for the UK, where she lived
and eventually married a Brit named John Elsmore. Two years ago, they decided to come
back with their daughter to live on Tristan, bringing with them the island's 8th name.
Tristan is a volcanic island, and in October 1961 an offshoot of the volcano near the
settlement (not the large cone itself) erupted, forcing the islanders to flee and eventually
wind up in London. After spending 18 months in "civilization", virtually all islanders
decided to return to Tristan, with only a few then going back to the UK later (most of the
original thatched-roof homes were destroyed by the volcano, and now only metal-roof homes
exist)... there's no drug problem on Tristan, though sometimes people can drink a bit too
much... as the Administrator, Bryan must wear several different hats, including being the
official representative of the Queen, the person who registers births and deaths, the
magistrate, and the coronor... in his 3 years on the island there have been 7 deaths, 9 births
(with 2 more on the way), and 2 weddings... the doctor (always an ex-pat) stays on the island
for his contracted time, though there are local Tristanian nurses... a dental team visits once
a year, an optician from the UK visits once every 2 years, and they're usually the same
people each time... all medical care on the island is free... there are no taxes on Tristan...
having a child before getting married really isn't common anymore, though couples do live
together before marriage, as a wedding is quite a big deal and a priest is not always on the
island... with family planning (an economic and physical necessity due to the small amount
of livable space on the island), the size of families are much smaller than they used to be (no
more families with 6-9 kids)... not too many new homes are built, but often new families will
either refurbish empty houses or add onto existing homes... the gaps between priests can be
long, so a local lay priest will lead services until a new one arrives or the old one returns (a
priest will usually stay for a few years). Though there is currently no priest on the island
(the old one left last year), the new one will be arriving in 2 months... there's an unwritten
rule to discourage marriage between first cousins... one problem with living in such a small,
isolated community is that you're always seeing the same people all the time — grudges can
happen, but not often, as they know the must all live with each other everyday... the island
follows both UK and St. Helena laws as well as its own: you must be 18 to enter a pub, 18
for marriage without parental consent, and 16 for marriage with consent.
The school currently has 29 pupils, with 6-7 teachers (all locals) in 4 classes — which
means each class might contain kids 3-4 years apart in age. The local teachers are sent to
the UK for training, and besides the usual subjects, kids take a "Tristan Studies" class.
Schooling ends when a child hits his 15th birthday, after which there is a youth
employment scheme for a year to allow kids to see if they like a particular job (with them
deciding when the year is finished) — or if they're the top of their class, 1-2 kids will be sent
off to St. Helena to continue their studies at Prince Andrew School (paid for by the Tristan
Government). If those few still have the grades and desire to continue, they can then attend
Denstone College for college matric, as the school has a scholarship program for Tristanian
students (usually about 1 student every 3 years winds up going this far). From there,
there's always the possibility of attending a university, but to date, it hasn't happened yet.
Ovenstone (the South African company with the rights to fish off Tristan) has two
vessels: the Kelso and the Edinburgh, with a total of 6 roundtrip voyages a year (the
islanders can use them for transportation to-and-from Cape Town if necessary). Ovenstone
owns the diesel electricity generators, but the government buys the power from them and
people pay the government for the power (available from 6:00am to midnight)... for crayfish,
Ovenstone pays a nice royalty fee to the islanders whether fish is caught or not
(US$300,000/year), as well as a small percentage of the profits. Last year the island made
almost the opposite agreement with a New Zealand company interested in whitefish, opting
for a smaller up-front royalty, but a larger share of the profits.
The Tristan Government's budget is £650,000/US$975,000 a year, basically coming
from fishing fees and overseas postage stamp sales, as well as interest from a savings
account the island keeps in the UK (a £3/US$4.5 million reserve in a managed fund which
the island has built up over the years). Though the island uses the interest, they rarely dip
into the principal — though they have done so recently in order to help finance the building
of a new harbor: the old harbor was built in 1963 when the islanders returned after the
volcano, but it's not very good, and can only be used about 60 days a year. There was an
attempt to expand the harbor in 1995, but it only made matters worse — so now the plan is
to break through the sand to a shallow inland pond area and build a new breakwater (which
will curve around to protect the launches), with half of it resting on the current reef, and the
other half resting in the deep water. It will take at least 3-4 years to complete, as it will
require at least 18 months to build the large cement "X" blocks needed for the breakwater
(the plan is to mix 20% of a special type of local volcanic ash with imported cement, but it
will still be an enormous undertaking, with 300,000 tons of cement needing to be sent from
Cape Town). The island has assembled a workforce of 12 people working 9-5 daily to build
the blocks... they're mostly retired pensioners (who will receive extra pay for their work), as
it's important that fishermen not be distracted from their fishing duties (back in 1995 the
islanders stopped fishing in order to work on harbor improvements, allowing others to come
in to fish — but it was a big mistake, as there was a lot of overfishing).
Besides the RMS, the SA Agulhas research vessel, and the two fishing ships, about 4-
5 cruise ships a year call on Tristan, with most stopping for 1-2 days... budget negotiations
on the island are quite easy, as the island is self-supporting with the fishing royalties and
high interest from the £3 million... there are 5 working satellite phones on the island, with
the first having arrived in 1994 (before which only radio was used): 2 lines on INMARSAT "A"
(including the one internet account for the island, as this is the fastest — albeit most
expensive connection), 2 "M" suitcase phones, and 1 "Mini M" phone (the local payphone). If
someone wants to call overseas, they have a choice of using the radiophone to Cape Town
(cheap, but crackly and not private), the Mini M phone (at US$2.56/min) or using
INMARSAT "A" (£4-£5/min).
While St. Helena has a high unemployment rate, there is full employment on Tristan
(seen to by the Island Council). The Council is made up of 11 members (8 elected and 3
appointed), of which at least one must be a woman (though Bryan was happy to see a few
women on the Council) — the one who receives the most votes (and opts to take on the job)
is appointed Chief Islander (currently Jimmy Glass). Members serve a 3 year term, the
Council has 6 committees (Education, Health, Agriculture, Natural Resources, etc.) which
advise it, and each October the 11 different government departments submit what they need
to the Council and Administrator for approval... all in all, 140 people work for the
government at least part time, 25 work at the fish factory full time (about 100 more join in
on fishing days), and the rest are pensioners, teachers, housewives or kids... 25% of the
island population is over 65, there are 29 pupils in school, and 10 children below school age
(Tristanians often live very long lives — one need only to look at the dates on the tombstones
to see this). There's currently a 5:1 imbalance between 18-25 year old guys and gals, with
12 guys for every 2-3 gals. Generally, the boys can see a future for themselves fishing, but
many bright girls want to leave, as they realize all that awaits them is being a housewife or
perhaps having a part-time job — and they've known their choices for husbands since they
were kids (however there's no divorce on Tristan). Those families with relatives in the UK
help the Tristanians who want to leave, but as with the Saints, they currently don't have full
citizenship status... and there are 5 places a year available for a 3-year job stint in the UK.
Believe it or not, Tristanians do have holiday homes to escape to outside the
settlement: out by the potato patches are plenty of small sheds which can be used either for
storing equipment or spending a little time in (one even had an antenna to receive the local
radio station). As well, many islanders have holiday homes on Nightingale Island (shelter
that could also be used in the event of another volcanic eruption), though it can sometimes
be difficult to get ashore there... the island has mice and rats, but no bees, so there is no
pollination for plants... gas is used for heat rather than wood, as there's not much forest on
the island (there are trees, but no large-scale forest areas)... there's no vet on Tristan, but
there is a self-taught lay vet who helps out with the cows and sheep.
While the island once had a tradition of music, there's very little left today except for
the CD/stereo. A few people play the squeeze-box, but most prefer country music from CDs
or listening to the island's one radio station (Radio Tristan, 93.5 FM)... there's not too much
sports activity on the island, as most spare time is spent subsistence farming — and with
such a small population they must be careful not to hurt themselves (no rugby games!)
There are some sports played though, including football (soccer) and rounders (like baseball,
but you kick the ball), with a sports day being held once a year. People don't walk for
exercise, as they get enough of it working, tending to their sheep, cows, or potato patches
(though they can drive or take a bus out to the patches, the bus doesn't allow you to carry
your produce on board)... Bryan mentioned that one 15yr-old Tristanian seeing Cape Town
for the first time commented that it was so large — and was awed by all the lights at night...
as the island has limited space and resources, immigration to Tristan is discouraged and
extremely rare (all kinds of hurdles are put in place, even for a spouse married to a
Tristanian). Though permanent immigration is discouraged, the island does welcome both
short and long term visitors (with Bryan mentioning that the island is available for any
brillant eccentrics who want to escape the world for a bit)... in 1997 there were only 6 cars
on the island, but today there are 44. Though there aren't many places to drive, it's still
convenient when going to-and-from the patches, and as the islanders' prosperity has
increased, so has the number of cars (apparently youngsters like to drive along the beach
and blast their stereos).
Due to the limited space on the island, each house is allowed only 2 cows and 7
sheep in the prime pasture areas near the settlement (you can have more animals elsewhere
on the island, but you're limited to those numbers for the prime areas). Everyone looks after
their own meat requirements, with cows providing meat and milk and sheep providing meat
and wool (a favorite pastime among Tristan women is knitting)... world-famous Tristan
stamps are designed on Tristan but printed in England — and the island sells more stamps
than any of the other 30 countries the Crown Agent deals with... if there's a medical
emergency, someone will send out an SOS to a passing ship. 18 months ago, a young lady
had a problem with kidney stones which needed to be treated off the island. A cruise ship to
the Falklands stopped to take her towards the Falklands — but as she became worse, a
convoy of 2 other ships from the Falklands (with choppers) went to meet the cruise ship
halfway. At 800 miles out, the chopper landed on the cruise ship in a storm to pick her up,
take her to the first ship, refuel, continue onto the second ship, refuel, and finally make it to
the Falklands — from which point she was airlifted to the UK. Another case was when a
man's diaphram split (with a fishing boat taking him to Cape Town), but thankfully both
patients are now OK.
Tristan da Cunha is the remotest inhabited island in the world, having an area of 38
square miles... the island flag is the union jack with a fishing ship in the middle... the
potatoes in the patches are normal white ones, not yams... the island's one store is a co-op
type venture: overseen by the government, people can sell various items in it, but no one
person owns it or makes a profit from running it... with temperatures ranging from 4-26C,
the island receives an average rainfall of 66 inches per year... the volcanic peak of the island
is 6,760ft (2,060m), but there's a plateau on the way up (known as "The Base") which is
about 2,000ft (600m)... the animals generally graze in the area along the coast and around
the settlement... Prince Philip Hall is the social center of the island, with both a pub and a
large multi-purpose room (where indoor sports and the weekly dance are held). As well,
there is one cafe, an outdoor swimming pool, a library, a gym (opened in 1998), and plans
for an adult education center... finally, Governor Hollamby decided not to bring the
traditional fancy white uniform with him for his ceremonial duties on Tristan, thinking it
was too silly.
Up on the bridge earlier, Jolene mentioned that the Captain was going to partake in
deck tennis (using quoits, not tennis balls) at 2:30pm... I was interested in having a peek,
but because of my long talk with Bryan, missed it (that's alright — I learned an incredible
amount from Bryan, and thanked him sincerely for his time, as I'm sure he must get tired of
quoting the same figures and answering the same questions each time he meets someone
new). After we were done, I spent some time copying down all the information he gave me
into my journal before attending a slide show on the history of Tristan given by Warham at
5:00pm.
On a beautiful evening outside after dinner, I spotted some birds with Warham before
heading up to the bridge to hang out and talk with Jolene again (who pointed out a cold
front ahead to the side, but said we'd miss it). Very sweet and easy to talk to, Jolene said
she missed real homemade St. Helena food, as the meals on the ship were wonderful but
usually not authentic St. Helena cuisine. When I mentioned to her what Mrs. Governor had
said yesterday (about how Saints will never stand up to a white person), she replied "yes...
most Saints don't want to be impolite," but then laughed and added "well, not always me..."
(being modest). Because of the clouds in the distance there was no sunset, but it was still a
beautiful evening, and Venus could be seen shining brightly up in the sky.
At 9:20pm I went down to the lounge for a quiz and darts game. At 9:45pm the
second engine was restarted (almost 13 hours later), with the Captain announcing the
restart at 9:49pm. When finished in the lounge, I went up to the dark bridge area to look at
the stars up in the clear sky. Jolene pointed out Sirrus as well as Orion's Belt, and we
talked for a while: her boyfriend is on board with her now (as the RMS allows spouses and
boyfriends to be on board, where some ships don't), and walking back down, I noticed that
the decks were somewhat wet, and wasn't sure if they had just been cleaned, or if it was due
to sea spray. Finally, the clocks would be retarded by an hour to GMT/Tristan time tonight.
Jan. 22: RMS [Tristan Info]
Willie was up at 3:00am from the ship rocking, and woke me up. As I was only able
to fall back to sleep for an hour or so, I decided to get up early and head for the exercise and
laundry rooms. Afterwards, I ate a quick breakfast upstairs so I could be in the front of the
line when launch numbers were handed out between 9:00am-10:00am (as you leave the
RMS for Tristan in order of your launch number).
Going downstairs to the purser's bureau at 8:30am, I was first in line — though
Simon and a few others soon joined me in waiting for their launch numbers as well. A little
after 9:00am Nigel opened the bureau and began handing them out... though I was first in
line, I received #23 (with #1-#22 set aside for the Governor's party, the journalists, and the
other official passengers) — and though each launch can hold 25 people, I was given launch
#2.
Due to the rain outside, the morning's shuffleboard game was cancelled, but through
the drizzle I spotted more albatrosses (it was now quite common to see one or two flying
around the ship, either out in the distance, or directly overhead). Going inside due to the
cool weather, I asked one of the Saint staff if there was any hot chocolate left (as I couldn't
find any in the pantries)... I was told to ask Pat (another Saint), and she showed me a large
container of the stuff. As I was the only person on board to ask for it, Pat offered to give me
the entire can to keep, but not wanting to be selfish, I had her put it behind the bar in the
sun lounge in case anyone else wanted some.
Some more Tristan information: there are rats on the island (brought over on an old
shipwrecked vessel), and Tristanians have an annual "ratting day" each March — it's a
public holiday when, for 24hrs, the male islanders divide into teams and go out to try to
bring back as many rats as they can. Prizes are awarded for various catches, including the
largest, shortest, longest tail, etc. — and lots of drinking and merriment goes on during the
period. Sometimes people attempt to cheat (such as by putting one in a microwave to
straighten its tail), so the doctor is usually called upon to verify that the rat wasn't caught
before the actual start of the event (which runs from midnight to midnight)... on the other
side of the island is an apple orchard — though it's basically just a few apple trees. It was
started by an ex-pat who once lived on the island, but is no longer kept up — though people
will occasionally go out to the area to see if there are any apples... each family has its own
potato patch and shed, with the potatoes used to feed both the islanders and cattle... the
current quota for Ovenstone is 323 tons of crayfish a year, with most being exported to
Japan (where they prefer them whole) or the United States... the levy on alcohol basically
pays for the store's upkeep on the island — so as Chief Islander Jimmy Glass later said,
drinking is somewhat patriotic... there was a recent election (in October 2000) and many
new faces are on the Council... about 30 years ago, a wind turbine (for power) was built, but
because the technology back then wasn't as good as it is today, it broke — and now if you
mention the idea of building another turbine, locals reply "we already did that, but it blew
away"... fish caught on fishing days go to the island quota, but anyone can go out on a
normal day and catch fish for themselves... on fishing days, those who hold down other jobs
(as many fishermen do) leave to go fishing, with the day's labor being paid for by
Ovenstone... Ovenstone operates the two large fishing vessels (Kelso and Edinburgh), while
the locals go out in their own small boats (traditionally they used to be longboats, though
today they're a bit more modern).
This morning I talked a bit with the vulcanologist again, who mentioned that in
September an international team will come to both Tristan da Cunha and St. Helena in
order to set up sensors to monitor the international nuclear test ban treaty... the water on
Tristan is incredibly pure (it really is!) and the government is looking into the possibility of
bottling it and selling it overseas — the South African Bureau of Standards is currently
analyzing the water in South Africa, and if the plan is given a green light, it would eventually
be bottled right at the source on Tristan... drunk driving is a problem on the island with all
the cars now, and there was a serious accident recently... barter happens from time to time,
not only among islanders but with outsiders as well: recently, the Administrator waived all
landing fees for a ship in exchange for some flour when the island ran out.
After taking a picture of Jolene up on the bridge, I went down to the ship's store to
buy some Tristan postcards — but by now, there was only one type left. Still, I bought a few
and stamped one with a souvenir RMS Tristan stamp... though I could buy a St. Helena
stamp and drop it in the mail slot next to the purser's bureau, I decided to hang onto the
postcard, buy a Tristan stamp on the island, and mail it from there (though it would still be
carried aboard the RMS back to Cape Town).
At the purser's bureau I realized that the best way to get extra cash wasn't by
exchanging travellers checks at the ship's horrible exchange rate, but by doing a cash
advance on the Visa (especially as I had pre-paid my credit card before leaving, figuring that
I'd be doing this). Though I knew I could exchange travellers checks on the island itself (at a
decent rate at the government office), I nonetheless decided to take out £70/US$105 from
my Visa (paying the small 70p commission in cash) in case I wanted to buy a sweater or
other similar souvenir on the island. As well, a few days ago I asked Nigel if he could find
me a small notepad (as the last of my two mini pocket "Pooh" pads was half used by now) —
and this morning, he managed to track two down for me (a full-sized pad and a small
pocked-sized red one). When I asked how much, Nigel said if I wanted smaller one just to
take it... if I wanted the larger one, just put something in the charity jar. Wanting the
smallest one possible, I took the red one — but as far as the charity jar, I'd always make it a
habit to drop extra coins into the jar when changing currencies or disembarking.
Going upstairs onto the bridge, I talked with Andrew (the Saint 2nd mate) for a bit
about everything from the recent US election to Governor Hollamby. His take on the
Governor was that he was a nice enough guy, but that previous ones used to mix with the
islanders more, playing football, going out sailing, and playing cricket with them, whereas
Governor Hollamby generally tended to keep to himself.
At 1:30pm I went down to see the showing a video (belonging to Bryan) on the recent
November 2000 rescue of South African fishermen off of Gough Island. Though Gough is
British, the only presence on the island is a South African weather station (for which the
South African Government pays the British Government £1 a year). Some South African
fishermen from the Edinburgh went out in small boats during bad weather... one of the
boats capsized, killing one of the fishermen (the other was able to make it to shore on Gough
Island) — but due to the harsh weather, people from the weather station were unable to
make it down to where the stranded fisherman was (there's no infrastructure on the island
other than the weather station complex itself). Another boat then went out to try to rescue
the first fisherman — and the same thing happened, with another person dying, and two
more making it to shore. With two fishermen now dead and three stranded on Gough
Island, the ones who had made it to shore survived by eating penguin eggs for two weeks
until a South African naval vessel (the SA Protea) could be dispatched to rescue them, using
their on-board helicoptors. The program was shown on South African TV, and had
interviews with the crew of the SA Protea, the fisherman — and even showed Andre (the
Ovenstone representative currenly on board the RMS) in the background. In the end, two of
the three fishermen went back on the Protea, while the third opted to return to work on the
Edinburgh right away.
When the video was done I left to go outside and finally finish reading "Red October."
Afterwards, I looked out at some of the birds (albatrosses and petrels) flying behind the ship
(one albatross just settled and sat on the water, looking much like a duck).
At 5:00pm I went inside the sun lounge for an excellent BBC video on Tristan entitled
"Forgotten Island" (it was so good in fact that I later asked Geoff the head purser if it was
available for purchase — he didn't think so, as it was loaned to them with permission). The
video was made by a Tristanian lady who left the island in the 1980s and returned for a visit
in 1997... as it was shot by an islander, it was full of interviews and personal accounts of
her friends and family, being both insightful yet light (narrating, the lady joked that they
didn't actually all marry their first cousins as many people believe). The video featured
many of the people I'd soon meet on the island (including Conrad, the island's one
policeman), and is probably the most accurate account of life on the island available on
video if one can get ahold of it. Some information from the video: there's no postal delivery
on Tristan, so when a ship arrives with mail, people go and wait for their names to be
called... on fishing days, women wait at the harbor and knit... each Saturday just about
everyone goes out to the potato patches to work (located 2.5 miles from Edinburgh).
After the video, Geoff went over some general information for tomorrow: it would cost
£10/US$15 for a landing permit to go ashore (if you didn't wish to disembark, paying £10
would enable you to get your passport stamped)... then Captain Roberts addressed the
crowd on the difficulty of disembarking at Tristan: a rope ladder must usually be used, and
he warned that those not capable or nimble enough should stay on board the ship. His
briefing was a masterful performance, given as only a Brit with a sense of theatrical flair
could: a mixture of information and humor, he successfully managed to get across to the
(mostly elderly) passengers the real danger posed by trying to disembark at Tristan (with the
rope ladder, the swells which cause the launches to bob up and down wildly, etc.) — and
mentioned that the final decision of who could and couldn't go would rest with him. It was
such a perfect performance for the crowd that I wasn't the only one impressed — as soon as
it was done, I spotted Graham, and the first words out of both of our mouths was "boy, he
really did a great job on THAT speech!" Afterwards, there were some ridiculous questions
from the audience, including one from a crazy old Scottish lady who asked "can I wear my
rings when I disembark?" Of the 75 unofficial visitors on board, 70 had requested to
disembark, yet certainly all would not be able to go, as many were over 80 and in no
condition physically to attempt anything like a rope ladder.
When the speech was finished, I approached Bryan once more to find out if anything
had changed about staying on the island. Asking as nicely as I could (as I hated to be so
tenacious), I nevertheless knew that if I didn't ask, nothing would change. Bryan looked at
me and said "it's not up to me... ask the Captain" — but by then, the Captain had already
left. Seeing Nigel, I stopped to ask if he'd be able to speak to the Captain about staying
ashore — and his response was "oh yes, it's OK... as long as you have a place to stay. After
all, we have to get the Governor back on board." Saying he'd check with the Captain to
make sure, he didn't think it would be a problem — and I was now hoping that it wasn't too
late, even if permission was received.
After dinner I went up to the bridge, where Andrew suddenly said "so Larry, I hear
you're going to stay on Tristan for a couple of days..." Stunned, I answered "I am?" — to
which he replied "that's what I heard..." (I explained to Andrew that I had requested it, but
still hadn't been given permission directly). With nothing but this on my mind for the next
couple of hours, I was ecstatic when Nigel came up to me at 9:15pm to say the Captain had
given me permission to stay on the island. Great! But now the problem was that Bryan
needed to know so he could find me a place to stay. Nigel said not to worry, that tomorrow
morning would be enough time — but I didn't quite believe him, as already the Governor
was in his room packing, with bags needing to be ready by breakfast tomorrow. For the
next 20 minutes or so I combed the ship searching for Bryan, but had no luck. While
passing the Governor, he mentioned Bryan was headed upstairs — but he must have been
watching the video in the darkened lounge, as I couldn't find him anywhere else. Not being
able to locate him, I decided to watch the movie myself ("Billy Elliot"), though it was hard to
keep my mind on anything other than going ashore. When the movie was over, I finally saw
Bryan and Liz (they had indeed watched the movie), and when I told them I had received
permission from the Captain, Bryan said that it wouldn't be a problem if indeed it was OK
with the Captain — and that I should see him in the morning.
Jan. 23: Tristan da Cunha
After waking up at 6:00am, I took a quick shower and was up outside the bridge by
6:20am — Tristan da Cunha was in clear view, and not too far away. Our current speed
was 13-14 knots, and off the side of the ship was plenty of flying fish. The Captain
mentioned that kelp can sometimes be a problem when landing at Tristan, but with the good
weather we were having there shouldn't be any problem — in fact, the plan now was to use
the gangway instead of the rope ladder. To the left of Tristan I could make out Nightingale
Island in the distance, and as the ship came around, Inaccessible Island came into view off
to the right.
At first I decided to skip breakfast downstairs in favor of some brownies being served
upstairs (delicious... but for breakfast?), though in the end I later went down for a quick
breakfast as well (including more brownies), figuring I'd need the energy later in the day.
After breakfast I went to the cabin to pack... I didn't know for sure yet if I'd be able to spend
the night on the island, so while I decided to take my large pack, I empied almost everything
out into the tiny storage closet, and put only one change of clothing into the bag (as I
wanted to have plenty of space for any Tristan souvenirs I might buy). Not telling anyone
that I might be staying ashore (both because I wasn't yet sure myself, as well as not wanting
to start a flood of last-minute requests), I went upstairs to see Bryan in the lounge — where
he told me he'd take care of everything.
Up outside the bridge everyone was now crowded around the front, taking pictures as
we slowly approached the island ("it's almost like Christmas," two different people
commented). The settlement of Edinburgh could clearly be seen sticking out on the flat
plain of the otherwise-mountainous island, with all the colorful rooftops (red, grey, green,
and blue)... looking at the tiny settlement from the ship, I realized that Tristan's entire
population lived in this small little village. Though it was a nice, partially-sunny day, the
very top of the volcanic peak was hidden in the clouds.
At 9:45am we arrived at Tristan, and the Captain let the doctor's two kids toot the
ship's horn. At 9:50am we anchored offshore... the swells were quite low, but as soon as we
dropped anchor the boat began to rock from side to side. All those who planned on
disembarking to the island (or who just wanted to have their passports stamped) then
assembled in the main lounge in order of their launch number to meet with Tristan
immigration (who arrived by launch a few minutes later). After paying the £10/US$15 fee,
my passport was given a colorful blue Tristan da Cunha stamp... and shortly before Bryan
left to go on the first launch, he told me everything had been arranged — that I just needed
to stop by and see him on the island at some point during the day.
While waiting for the second launch to arrive, I talked with some of the Tristanians
who had boarded the ship... one told me that even though the weather was calm today, it
wouldn't be a fishing day, as they only needed three more days worth of fish to reach the
year's quota — and with the RMS visiting, didn't want to call a fishing day.
At 11:00am the call for the second launch was announced, and I walked out to where
the Captain was personally helping people get down off the gangway, waiting for the swells
to lift the launch close enough to the RMS before yelling "GO!" at the appropriate time. For
me, boarding the launch wasn't a problem, and as second on the launch, I had plenty of
opportunity to watch the elderly passengers hesitate when the Captain ordered them to go.
With the good weather for the next few days, the rope ladder was used only once (the
following day), and I was half-disappointed that I never had a chance to try it myself. There
were 25 of us on the second launch, including Carol Swain, the RMS' one Tristanian
(carrying roses she brought all the way from Cape Town which she had kept in the ship's
freezer — it would be an emotional visit for her, as with the RMS breakdown last year, it had
been two years since she had last been able to visit her home, and during that time, her
father had passed away).
At 11:21am our fast, motor-powered launch took off for Tristan, with one of the locals
telling me they had a mild winter this year. Just a few minutes later we arrived at the
island, where locals were waiting to assist anyone needing help in climbing out (because the
gangway was able to be used with the good weather this morning, many — but not all — of
the elderly passengers were able to go ashore today). After all these years, I finally made it
to Tristan da Cunha!
Walking uphill from the harbor I looked around... off to the right were the many
colorful fishing boats used to catch crayfish, nets stored inside. Though these wider boats
are now the ones used, examples of the thin, older-style longboat can be seen on display
near the Administrator's house. On a small white building with red stripes was a sign
reading "Welcome to Tristan da Cunha", and much of the island had come out to see the
ship and its arriving passengers.
The area down by the harbor has some grazing areas, and the various fields are
separated by walls of stacked black volcanic stones (with no cement or mortar holding them
together). Just a bit up the road is a sign which reads "Welcome to the Remotest Island" —
though I suspect it's placed up only when a ship is calling (as is the case with the signs
indicating the direction of the church, cafe, and other settlement landmarks).
Though I would be exploring the island in depth later, I decided to play Japanese
Tourist first, heading for the gift shop to pick up a thing or two before the rest of the ship
dropped by. Walking into the Tristan Craft Market & Museum, I wound up buying
£66/US$99 worth of items, including some large Tristan maps (for which the lady kindly
took a cardboard tube meant for calendars to store them in), a cap, T-shirt, souvenir license
plate, button, and keyring. Piling everything into my pack, I then continued to look around
the settlement.
Not too far from the water is a row of six similar-looking attached buildings which
comprise everything from the Agriculture Department to the Electrical Workshop to the
island's one store (a nicely-stocked market selling everything from frozen goods to toys to
clothes). In the store I bought myself a roll of ginger biscuits (ginger snaps) for a very
reasonable 71p/US$1.07 and a hand-painted T-shirt for £7.50/US$11.25 (I noticed that
Cokes were 28p/42c and wafers 25p/38c). There were some fresh doughnuts as well, but
they were being held for a local who had pre-ordered them (the store alternates with their
available baked goods... today it was doughnuts, but you usually either have to pre-order
them or arrive early enough before they're all gone).
I went next to the post office to buy some first day covers and stamps (£13/US$19.50
worth) — and it turned out to be the busiest place on the island, as a good number of
visitors had the same idea (the two people working the counter were kept busy as everyone
bought stamps not only for themselves but for gifts as well). I picked up not only a few
postcards, but two caps — as the post office happened to have the best-looking Tristan da
Cunha caps on the island (£6.50/US$9.75 each).
Next I headed to the building which houses the government offices and the Island
Council chamber. Inside, I cashed US$100 in travellers checks into £64.52, and noticed the
computers in the office, with a 5 minute UPC backup in case of a power failure (the email
was still down due to a virus). In a neighboring room, I bought two copies of the Tristan
Times (which comes out once or twice a year — 30p/45c each) and noticed that the new
computer/email system had already been offloaded from the RMS, and was just waiting to
be installed. When I asked the lady if she had a general fact sheet on Tristan, she kindly
went to her computer and printed one up for me right on the spot.
The signs posted up at the government building were interesting to read, and give a
glimpse of island life: this year's quota for Tristan fish is 125 tons (5 tons more than last
year)... the swimming pool will re-open on 2 December, but incidents of glass or debris
thrown in it will cause it to close... there is a vacancy for a shop assistant/clerk... Tristan is
under attack by pests and bugs, and all imported fruit and vegetables must have an import
certificate... the 288th meeting of the Island Council was 19 October 2000 (many younger
islanders were elected this time, and the Council now includes 5 women)... there was a
posted complaint about dogs not being under proper control, along with a notice of a
possible £250 fine... the satellite phone room is next to the video library, and the price for a
call to anywhere in the world from 28 September is now £1.83/US$2.75 a minute (for the
radiophone it's £1.40 to the UK or 73p to South Africa, and payment must be made within
four weeks)... notice of speed and DUI problems: if you're caught driving under the
influence, you'll receive a 3 month ban on being able to drive — no warning given... and
pleasure visits to Nightingale Island are available in patrol boats for £12/US$18 for ex-pats
or £8/US$12 for residents.
Walking outside, I met a young boy who introduced himself as Eugene. When I
asked him which way the Administrator's house was, he kindly showed me the way himself,
offering to carry my bag. Talking as we walked, he told me that school was now in session,
though the kids were all out on lunch back until 1:30pm... when I mentioned that my name
was Larry, he told me he has a cousin on the island here named Larry too. At the
Administrator's house I ran into Liz (Bryan's wife), and (asking her if it'd be OK), gave
Eugene £1 for carrying my bag.
The Administrator's house is the official residence of whomever the current island
Administrator is... it's extremely nice, and unlike most modest island homes, looks as if it
has been transplanted from the UK or the US. In the front is a long walkway leading up to
the house, cutting through a large lawn with flowers, a canon, the British flag, and plenty of
golf balls — and off to the side are some colorful old white, blue, and red Tristan longboats
(no longer used, but quite decorative). Inside, the house is full of furniture and decorations,
but has an airy feel to it with the windows and doors usually kept open... standing in the
living room, one can immediately feel as if he's home in the UK rather than being on the
remotest inhabited island in the world.
Liz unfortunately didn't know where I was to stay while on the island, mentioning
that Bryan was out and she was just about to leave herself to have a quick chat with the
Governor's wife — but said I should feel free to drop my bag at their house and come back
later. Doing so, I thanked her, letting her know I'd return in a few hours.
Walking around the area, the settlement seemed to be full of life with the RMS in port
and the kids out on lunch. Five younger kids (3 on bikes) came up to say hello, letting me
take their picture (with them being as eager to meet a visitor as I was to meet them).
Laundry was hanging out to dry on the clotheslines, and a large red tractor was parked
outside one house. There are thin, wooden electricity poles to supply the houses of the
settlement with power, and I even noticed ham antennas next to two homes.
Seeing the cafe, I decided to walk inside for a look around and a bite to eat, ordering
half a tasty crayfish sandwich (50p/75c) and a good slice of chocolate cake (55p/83c).
Meeting Udo inside, I also talked with a group of local guys about various things, finding out
that the hours of the school were 9:00am-3:00pm with a break for lunch. One of the guys
then told me it would be OK to look at the school — as well as suggesting I check out the
ages of those burried in the cemetery. Before leaving, I asked the lady behind the counter
what time she closes... her answer was "usually 6:00pm" (I found out a few days later that
she was actually the owner of the cafe — one of the few businesses on the island owned by
someone).
Walking outside with Udo, we went to have a look at the nearby school — but arrived
just as it was starting up after lunch. At 1:30pm a young boy rang the bell, and all the
students lined up outside before walking in together by class number. Though we were
right at the school, the teacher neither acknowledged us nor invited us in, so we decided to
leave.
Nearby the school is the fishing-day bell — a long hanging metal gas can which
someone will hit early in the morning to inform the village if it's a fishing day (though most
islanders I talked to said they can usually tell by the weather if it'll be a fishing day). In the
area plenty of cattle were grazing in the fields (separated by walls of stacked black volcanic
rocks and gates), and I walked past the cows to get to the cemetery.
There are actually two cemeteries on the island, right next to each other: the older
one is where some of the earliest settlers are burried, and the newer, larger one (with nice
tombstones and plenty of flowers) is the one currently being used. Looking at some of the
dates on the tombstones, the fellow at the cafe was certainly correct: Tristanians definitely
live long lives (1902-1996, 1922-1999, 1899-1994, 1902-1993, etc). In the old cemetery is
the grave of William Glass (founder of the settlement), and his tombstone reads: William
Glass, born at Kelso, Scotland, the founder of this settlement of Tristan da Cunha, in which
he resided 37 years and fell asleep to Jesus Nov. 21, 1853, aged 67 years."
Walking with Udo towards the volcano mound near the hillside, I noticed the Tristan
water pumping station in the distance. Deciding to rest on the hillside for about 20
minutes, I sat down to write a bit in my journal while Udo went climbing higher up in the
hills. There was a nice view of the settlement, but cow dung was everywhere, as any
available space is used for grazing. Though cloudy, the weather was warm, and the sun had
began to come out a little.
When finished with my journal I walked down to have a look at the volcano mound...
Tristan is volcanic, but when the volcano erupted in 1961, it wasn't the main cone which
blew, but a new, small offshoot which formed next to the settlement (a small mound, really).
Being so close, the old fish factory and some nearby homes were destroyed, and with little
flat, livable land on the island, it took away precious space (other than the small settlement
area and the nearby potato patches, the island is basically just the cone of the main
volcano).
Climbing up on the mound (now just a pile of large, black volcanic rocks) there was a
great view of the entire settlement of Edinburgh spread out in front — as well as a view of
the island trash dump behind me. While there, I ran into Susan and some other RMS
passengers who were being shown around by Hanny (pronounced "Honey"), an interesting
lady originally from Germany but now living in the US. She had come to Tristan to research
folklore and traditional music on the island but had alienated herself with the islanders with
her personality — and with still a few months left on the island, no one wanted to have
anything to do with her. Though not a bad person at heart, it was one of those situations
where I both felt sorry for her, yet could also understand the islanders' point of view.
Though her actions (as told to me by some islanders) would be nothing out of the ordinary
elsewhere, the old attage "When in Rome, Do Like a Roman" needs to be applied when one
visits another place. Bitter at being ostricized, she nonetheless planned to stay the entire
length of her intended visit, as it was something she had looked forward to her whole life
(though she was of course more than happy to meet and talk with fellow outsiders).
Showing Susan and some of the other passengers around, Hanny was full of
information about the island — but note that this information came from a fellow outsider,
not an islander: from Dec. 18 to Jan. 6, everything on the island closes... on Saturdays
when people go out to the potato patches, everything closes as well... Prince Philip Hall
houses a hall, the island's pub, and a gym... the square patch of area surrounded by New
Zealand flax is called the Mission's Garden (Monica Glass later told me it's owned by the
government and is a small patch of land where vegetables are grown for the local store)... the
brother of Lewis Carol ("Alice in Wonderland"/"Through the Looking Glass") was once a
reverend on the island... Tristan has one Catholic church (red roof) and one Anglican church
(green roof)... there are flies, but no mosquitos... all of the original males on Tristan were
white, but only two of the original females were white (the two sisters from Ireland —
responsible for much of the asthma on the island people now believe), with the other females
being mixed (Saints, or Cape Coloureds).
I'm sure it was her bitterness talking, but Hanny complained that no one on the
island has an original or creative idea, or opens their mouth to suggest anything... she said
that the "trained" islanders haven't had much training at all: the current school director
became a clerk when she hit 15 (the age you leave school), as it was the only job available.
She then applied for a job as a school teacher, went off the island for 6 months of training,
and is now the school director. No one has a two or four year degree, or (according to
Hanny), any ambition... a permit is usually required for journalists to come to the island
(£1,000 for print, £5,000 for TV), and they've all been given out until 2002... according to
Hanny, there are almost no musical instruments on the island now — just a few recorders
and button accordians, though I noticed keyboards in both the churches and the school.
When I asked about the church organs, Hanny said they're played hunt-and-peck style with
just one finger, though she did mention that the headmaster of the school (now overseas for
training) could read music... the "street" signs (indicating the direction of the cafe and other
buildings) are taken down as soon as the tourists leave... men and women talk and
congregate separately (this is definitely true: while at the cafe, I noticed the men and women
sitting and talking in separate groups, and one of the sattellite technicians later mentioned
how, at the Governor's reception, the islanders all came in together, but once inside, split off
and separated by gender)... you can vote at 18, though there is no campaigning — you
simply put your name up for a spot, and as you run for office, declare if you'll accept Chief
of the Island or not... Jimmy Glass is in his third 3-year term as Chief Islander, and has just
turned 40... he was the only one to invite Hanny over for Christmas dinner... Hanny
complained that rumor and vicious scuttlebutt is everything on the island, and that while
people pray in church for the lonely, they have no problem ostricizing someone right there
among them (however others would say that with her attitude, Hanny brought it on herself):
Hanny had been paying the standard £20/US$30 a day rate (with meals) on an 8-month
term for a place to stay. After a while though, she wanted to re-negotiate the price, as she
was staying for quite a while. When the landlady said "no", Hanny found out about a self-
catering flat for only £10/day and decided to move there instead. While this might be
acceptable in the outside world though, the islanders saw it as her going back on her word
— and along with her pushiness in asking questions (allegedly showing up uninvited at
people's homes to bother them), caused her to be ostricized.
All around the area of the volcano are holes into which you can stick your arm in and
feel heat coming out — and each of us gave it a try. Later that night at the pub, I asked the
vulcanologist about this, and his reply was that it's quite normal, with rainwater geting
inside and coming back up as steam.
After walking around the volcano area with Hanny, Susan, and some of the other
RMS passengers for a while, I figured I should head back to see if I could find Bryan — as I
still had no idea where I would be spending the night. Walking back to the Administrator's
house with Graham, I finally managed to catch Bryan while he was in. Saying he had given
my name to his assistant Cynthia earlier in the day, Bryan said I should speak with her, as
she'd know who I was to stay with (telling me I should let her know that I was the one he
had talked to her about in the morning). As Cynthia had already gone home for the day,
Bryan drew a map to her place — but mentioned I should go now, as she'd be leaving soon
to attend the Governor's cocktail party. So as Graham went to look for penguins, I began
walking up the hill to find the Administrator's assistant.
When I found Cynthia she looked surprised to see me, saying Bryan never told her
about me wanting to stay on the island — just the four journalists and the satellite TV crew.
Mentioning she'd have happily made accomodations for me had she known, she now didn't
know what to do, as it was getting late in the afternoon. Asking me to wait there at her
place, she went next door to talk to her neighbor (who often takes in people for
accomodation)... a few minutes later she returned to say everything would be ok, and I
followed her next door to meet Monica Glass, the lady with whom I'd be staying (her
husband Edwin was currently out fishing for himself). A nice couple, Monica and Edwin are
the parents of Conrad (the island's one policeman) and Sheila (a teacher at the school).
Their grandson Warren (in his 20s) stays with them, though I'd be using his room for the
next two nights while he moved into a neighboring room. After setting my things down and
chatting with Monica for a bit (while she was knitting — a favorite pasttime among Tristan
women), she wanted to know what time I'd like dinner. Asking if 7:00pm was too late ("no,
not at all"), I said perhaps between 7:00pm-7:30pm, then went out to explore some more.
Seeing Graham walking back from the penguin area, he told me that after a lot of
climbing he managed to see only one penguin (the penguins found on Tristan are
rockhoppers — and with their yellow "eyebrows", have an almost "punk" look to them).
Splitting up (as being a journalist, he had been invited to the Governor's cocktail party), we
decided to meet later that evening at the pub. Running into Hanny next, she invited me to
visit her place — but as I was just on my way to walk out to the potato patches, told her I'd
meet up with her later. As we talked for a moment though, she stopped a local woman
walking by to ask if the maize has been delivered yet... after a long pause, the islander
finally answered with a cold "no." All around, lots of nicely-dressed islanders were walking
down from their homes to the center of town in order to attend the Governor's cocktail party,
and in a way, I wish I had been invited as well.
Before walking out to the potato patches, I stopped by Bryan's house to let him know
who I'd be staying with... though as he was already gone, I had to leave the the message
with his wife Liz. While Bryan always seemed a bit scatterbrained, Liz was one of the nicest
people you could meet, and there in the kitchen (filled with food for the cocktail party), she
asked if I was hungry. Intent on giving me something, she took a brand new pizza and gave
me a few slices (insisting on cutting some tomato slices for the topping as well), telling me
not to worry, as the pizza was meant for tomorrow and not for the party. She then gave me
an apple and kiwi, and though I felt bad, I nonetheless gladly accepted, as I hadn't had
much to eat all day. Telling me to relax in the kitchen and eat while she got ready for the
party, I looked around the room... besides the usual kitchen amenities such as a fridge and
microwave, a stereo was tuned to the BBC — though while it had a shortwave band, I later
found out it was Radio Tristan's rebroadcast of the BBC I was listening to (at 5:20pm).
Thanking Liz, I soon left to walk along the mostly-tarred road out to the potato
patches. All around me were rolling green hills, streams of water, and plenty of cattle and
cow dung. The sun had now come out, yet even though I was walking towards it that late
afternoon, it was still quite pleasant, with blue skies and puffy white clouds above. As
Conrad later told me at the pub, there are only 65-70 days a year where the weather is good
enough to go fishing — and perhaps only 5 days a year where the water is as calm as it was
today. As cold as Tristan can get at times, I was quite comfortable wearing shorts that
afternoon.
Arriving at the first bunch of potato patches, I noticed that it wasn't just potatoes
which are farmed here, but other crops as well. There are dozens of individual square plots
(each family has some), all separated by walls of black volcanic rocks. Next to most every
patch is a small building of varying size and stature (the locals call them "camping huts"):
some are made of rock while others are made of iron... some are bare while others are nicely
painted with windows — and while some are only slightly larger than a tool shed, others are
tiny little houses in their own right. These are the local holiday homes for the islanders,
where they can stay and spend some time away from town.
As I had taken only my Nikes with me (leaving my sandals on the RMS), I decided to
take off my shoes for a bit in order to "feel" Tristan under my feet — and avoiding the cattle
dung, had a nice walk around the area before putting them back on. At 6:50pm the
lowering sun provided magnificent colors to the rolling hills behind me, and as I continued
walking further, I noticed more huts close to the cliffs by the sea. Here, I also found
something a bit out of place on the remotest inhabited island in the world: a British "Bus
Stop" sign for the occasional "bus" which runs between town and the patches (there is a
posted schedule in town) — though many islanders now have their own cars. One hut
overlooking the water had an attached antenna... at first it looked like a ham antenna, but
Ed later thought it was just a regular antenna to pick up Tristan Radio.
At 7:15pm I sat down at the edge of the cliff to look out at the sea, surrounded by the
stillness and quiet of the area with only a few lone cows and birds nearby. Though I knew
I'd be late in returning back to Monica's, it was just too beautiful an afternoon for me to
leave yet. Off in the distance I could see Inaccessible Island, and its silhouette against the
setting sun looked very much like a hippo (complete with ears). After sitting there for a few
more minutes I finally decided to head back, hoping I wouldn't be too late but knowing I
probably would be.
Walking back along the road, I heard the sound of a motorbike come up from behind
me... as I moved to the side, the local waved without stopping. A few minutes later a new
white Ford bakkie with canopy (a pickup with a shell) came by, and as I didn't want to be
late at Monica's, I waved and it stopped. Five people were squeezed into the cab (the young
husband driving, his wife, their teenage daughter, a boy, and a baby), and the husband
offered me a ride, telling me to hop in back. Driving back to town, I noticed one quirk of
Tristanians: quietness whenever strangers are around... while I was riding in the back,
everyone in the cab was dead quiet (with only the curious daughter and boy occasionally
turning around to have a look at me), and I'm sure had I not been there, the family would
have been talking for the whole trip. Along the way, we passed the hospital as well as the
doctor's house (which had a sign saying "Camogli, 1971" on it). Dropping me off at the bus
stop in town, I smiled and thanked the family, noticing that it was now 7:45pm.
Walking up the hill, I briefly ran into Eugene (the boy who had carried my bag
earlier)... and back at Monica's, dinner was cooking on the stove. A bit sweaty, I first went
into the bedroom to change into long sleeves and long pants before coming back out to meet
her husband Edwin — he had been out fishing for himself and had caught some fresh ones
for tonight's dinner. With it being a beautiful early evening, I was almost ready to go out for
another walk around the area, but dinner was soon ready: fresh fried fish, potato fries (with
skin), and canned corn (with of course delicious Tristan water straight from the tap). The
dinner was basic yet delicious — much more what I'm used to than the fancy fare served
aboard the RMS.
Over dinner, the three of us had a nice talk: Monica works in the fish factory
spraying the fish... Edwin is a retired fisherman, though he has come out of retirement to
fish again, as a friend of his needed a partner (you always fish with a partner, never alone)...
their son Conrad ("Connie") who lives adjoining to them is the one policeman on the island...
their daughter Sheila teaches at the school... their grandson Warren works for the Fisheries
and Environmental Department of the government, though now that the Governor was
visiting, he had been given the job of protecting him and keeping him on schedule... Monica
and Ed were both evacuated to the UK in 1961 of course (it was quite difficult for them, as
Conrad was only a few months old at the time) — but they wanted to return to Tristan, and
have since never been back to the UK (though Conrad went to Wales for police training)...
there's not too much live music on the island, but CDs and tapes are popular... there's a
video rental library, and most homes (including theirs) have a TV and VCR.
Monica and Ed's place is quite nice, and typical of most island homes: modest, yet
not lacking any conveniences, the one-story metal-roof building has attachments next door
where Conrad and his wife stay, a nice little yard and gate in front, thin carpet, an
automatic washing machine, clothesline for drying laundry, shower with temperature
control box, 13" TV, VCR, stereo, microwave, a nice sitting room between the main house
and attachment (where the TV and sofa are), and of course individual bedrooms.
While eating dinner I heard a bell ringing outside... Monica said it was the mail bell,
signaling that mail from the ship was ready to be handed out down at Prince Philip Hall
(Sheila would go down later to collect the mail for everyone).
After dinner I walked outside for a moment to take a picture of the RMS anchored
under a beautiful sunset... it was dusk on an absolutely gorgeous evening. For a while I sat
down with Ed in the sitting room to chat, but anxious to see the pub, I asked if he'd like to
come have a drink with me. Accepting, the two of us walked the short distance down to
Prince Philip Hall (where the pub is located — the Hall is about halfway between the harbor
and the top row of homes against the hillside). There are a few street lights along the road,
though it's such a small village, it's impossible to get lost.
Walking inside the Hall, I noticed a lot of women gathered in the "gym" side (opposite
the pub, and where the dances are held)... it was mail distribution time, and as the ladies
from the post office (standing in the center of the room next to giant bags of mail) read off
names, the women of the village came up to collect their parcels and letters (one of satellite
techs in the pub later said that as men, we weren't allowed inside the room during the mail
call).
The pub at Prince Philip Hall is a lively place in the evenings, and walking inside, I
immediately noticed the difference in people's behavior from earlier in the day — whereas
most islanders were friendly-but-reserved when tourists were around (answering a hello but
never initiating one), in the pub now at night with most tourists back on the RMS, it was a
different story: people were friendly and talkative, and everything from darts to a serious
game of snooker (on a beautiful brand new table) was going on... locals came up to offer me
a drink, and everyone seemed to be of good cheer.
In the pub I ran into Simon (who had managed to arrange accomodation for himself
as well — other than the journalists and people on official business, only myself, Simon, and
one older couple had managed to arrange a stay on the island). With the pub being about
the only nightlife in the settlement, everyone was there: the journalists, the vulcanologist,
the satellite techs, and a lot of locals just hanging out. Buying a Castle beer for Ed, an older
local drunk got me to buy her a drink as well (I had a Sprite). Behind the counter, I met
Dylis once more... earlier in the day she had been working at the post office while I was
buying stamps, but at night she becomes the pub's bartender. Extemely friendly, we talked
for a while, with her telling me that the mail is sorted by hospital, police, and the various
families first before ringing the bell. The Austrian satellite tech then came up to ask if I
wanted a mailbag (as a joke)... and thinking I could always use an extra carrying bag
(especially if it had Tristan da Cunha on it), I said "sure!"... so Dylis went away and came
back with a huge empty plain white sack made of rice bag material. Though it was way too
big to be of any use, I nonetheless thanked her and took it back to the house with me later,
as she had been nice enough to find one for me. A bit later Andre (of Ovenstone) introduced
me to Greg (the young South African manager of the fish factory) and his wife... I was
delighted to see how as management, he hung out with the islanders and got along fine with
them. Talking with Dylis again, she told me no one person "owns" the pub (the island
government operates it), but she pretty much runs it... it usually closes around 10:00pm,
with the last drink order accepted at 9:30pm.
A few minutes later Neil (one of the South African journalists) came into the pub wet,
cold, and chattering his teeth. There was a lot of commotion, and I soon found out what
happened: Neil had brought his kayak with him to the island in the hopes of being the first
person to circumnavigate Tristan da Cunha in a kayak — but instead of asking permission
or letting people know what he was planning, he decided to just go off by himself, starting at
around 3:00pm. As time went by and no one could find him, word got out about what he
was attempting to do — and when he hadn't returned by nightfall, everyone from Conrad to
Captain Roberts was notified, as they began to organize a search party. Finally returning
back at a little after 8:00pm, Neil certainly pissed off the people who were just about to look
for him... Conrad was especially mad, saying "look, no one warned us of what he was
doing... I've already had 5 beers, as has Warren... we're in no condition to take part in a
rescue... how stupid can you be? There are sharks around the island... all he had to do was
tell us what he planned to do, and we'd have had someone follow him... it's stupidity to try
something like that and not let others know what you're doing!" Neil's excuse was that he
hadn't actually planned on doing the whole thing, saying he just started it and kind of kept
going — but I believe he meant to do it from the start, and was just afraid that if he told any
islander his plan, they would have put a stop to it (a real possibility, though no one will ever
know now). In the end he made it, becoming the first person to circumnavigate Tristan da
Cunha on a kayak — though without any witnesses, it will never be in the record books.
Captain Roberts was supposedly very angry that night (though later in the voyage, seemed
to almost congratulate Neil on his feat), and Conrad, pretty pissed by the incident, went on
to say that there are maybe only 5 days a year where the water is calm enough for
something like that to be successful — and Neil was damn lucky that today was one of
them. Don half-jokingly suggested to Conrad that he arrest Neil... with Conrad answering
that he might have had the jail not currently been stuffed full of rescue equipment
(commenting also that he doesn't think someone should be locked up after they've just been
rescued — or almost-rescued). Though he was fine, Neil couldn't stop his jaw from
chattering for a while, and people were soon offering him a beer.
At 9:25pm the bell for the last drink orders rang, and at 9:50pm I left to go back to
the house. Relaxing in the sitting room was myself, Monica, Edwin, Conrad, Sheila, Warren,
and two local guys who had come over to chat (one had sailed with the old RMS, and
another was a fisherman — they'd both be guides on tomorrow's walk up to the Base, and
one of them was named Neil). Having a nice chat, we talked about everything from the
kayak stunt to Captain Roberts and the RMS: apparently, Roberts had to go to court once
for taking the wind out of a smaller boat's sail during a race, as well as coming too close to
the other yacht and damaging it. The guys said Captain Robert's nickname (behind his
back) is "ticketyboo", as one of his favorite expressions is "everything will be ticketyboo" —
and also commented that from what they hear, the crew likes Captain Smith better than
Captain Roberts, as Smith trusts the crew more and lets them carry out their jobs without
butting in, while Roberts always has to do everything himself (witness him personally being
the one to tell passengers when to jump down off the ship at Tristan). The general
consensus on the Governor here was that he seems nice enough, though everyone really
liked the last one quite a bit, and Governor Hollamby will have to live up to his predecessor's
legacy (Warren commented that while he was on St. Helena, he was amazed at how the last
governor mixed with the locals all the time, treating everyone as equals and not
subordinates). Warren then talked about his stint on Gough Island (as he works for the
Department of Environment) — in the middle of winter with only a few days notice, he was
sent to the harsh island (where the only structure is the large South African-manned
weather station) to help with ways of getting rid of a certain type of grass from Marion Island
which was destroying much of the other vegetation on Gough. With very little training, he
found himself stuck in one of the world's harshest environments in the middle of winter
(though he said at least the station had videos in the evening).
At 11:30pm the two guests left, and everyone went their separate ways. After
brushing my teeth I went into the bedroom to start my journal... as the power shut off right
at midnight, I lied down on the floor, continuing to write my journal by flashlight until
finally finishing at 12:50am. As I hadn't brought my pajamas with me, I slept in my long
clothes — but I didn't care... I was able to spend a few nights on Tristan da Cunha. Lying
there in bed, I listened to the total silence around me... there wasn't a sound to be heard or
a light to be seen for thousands of miles in any direction.
Misc. notes: as I wasn't sure if I'd actually be able to stay on Tristan or not, I had
with me only one polo shirt, one long-sleeve shirt, one pair of shorts, one pair of long pants,
two pairs of underwear and socks, and my Nikes (no sandals) — and I had to make those
last for three days, as I wouldn't be on the ship again until it was time to leave... my camera
lens was indeed not working right, and as I'd jiggle it about to try to clear up the focus, I
hoped profusely that the pictures would come out alright (in the end they did)... there are
plenty of dogs on the island, and many of them will yap at you as you walk by — what's
scary about them is that the white-and-black dogs all look identical — I couldn't tell one dog
from the other (Ed and Monica had two dogs: Rocky and Scout, and I wouldn't be able to tell
them apart save for the fact that Rocky had two brown eyes, and Scout had one brown eye
and one blue eye)... there are no cats on the island... most people here hold down more than
one job, as there is always a lot to do and only so many people on the island (for instance,
Warren was not only with the Fisheries and Environmental Department, but helped out
looking after the visiting Governor as well — and Dylis worked at the post office during the
day and the pub at night)... like everywhere I suppose, people here like to drink a lot,
especially beer... islanders have an interesting accent, though it's not hard to understand:
one thing they do is add an "H" before words beginning with an "A" or "O" — so "Ann" will
become "Hann" and "organize" becomes "horganize."
While on the island I asked a few people about the hours of Radio Tristan (as I had
left my radio on the ship and never had a chance to actually listen to it) — and I received
slightly different answers each time I'd ask the question. In general, it seems that the
station operates for a few hours in the morning and a bit in the evening (the lady in the
government building told me two hours in the morning and one hour at night), though a few
people thought it also was on the air for an hour or two on certain afternoons. I never
actually heard anyone listening to the station while on the island, though I was usually off
doing my own thing most of the time.
My impressions of Tristanians are that they are quite different than their Saint
neighbors in demeanor: whereas a Saint will usually wave and greet everyone he passes
(whether he knows them or not), Tristanians are much quieter, passing people without
waving or acknowledging them (though a "hello" on the street will always be answered, it will
almost never be initiated — very different than on St. Helena). This lack of greeting occurs
among the islanders themselves as well, though I guess with everyone living so close to each
other every day of their lives, greeting people all the time would probably become rather
annoying (at least St. Helena is a larger island). I suppose the one word which describes the
Tristan attitude (at least when others are around) is "reserved" — but this doesn't mean
unfriendly, and one need only step into the pub at night to see some of the reserve drift
away. Young kids don't have any of this however, and are just like kids anywhere — eager
to meet and talk with you about frogs, giants, and their fellow classmates. These
observations are of course only personal impressions gained over a course of just three days,
but I'll bet if you sit a Tristanian and a Saint in the same room, you'll notice quite a
difference (then again, if you sit a New Yorker and a Californian down in the same room,
you'll notice quite a difference as well).
Jan. 24: Tristan da Cunha [Base Walk / Island Reception / Dance]
Even though I went to bed late last night and was up early this morning, last night
was still the best sleep I had in a long time. It was also interesting sleeping with no ambient
light outside — when the electricity shut off, the island was completely dark. However when
the power went off at midnight, I forgot to turn off the light switch — so at 6:00am this
morning I awoke to the lights in my room suddenly coming on. Lying in bed, I heard the
family stirring (Ed said he's often up by 5:00am), and at 6:20am went to take a shower in
the bathroom.
Having breakfast (toast, egg, and ham) with Monica, Ed, and Sheila, I found out that
Sheila teaches the first class (kids aged 5-7) at the island school (St. Mary's School), and
had gone to the UK for 6 months of training for the job. Later in the day while attending a
reception at the school, I was surprised to see a room with 7 or 8 computers inside —
though Sheila said only 3 or 4 of them work. Sheila unfortunately is one of the many
islanders with asthma, and it was acting up a bit this morning. When I asked about snow,
Edwin (whose nickname is "Spike") said that it occasionally falls on the mountain, but never
down below in the settlement (though they receive plenty of rain and wind throughout the
year). As I gave Monica my "Hunt for Red October" book, Warren came in the room and said
"hey, they made that into a movie, right?" I then addressed and sealed the tube with my
Tristan maps, as I planned to stop by the post office later that afternoon.
Walking outside, I soon met up with the journalists... Don told me he was up at
5:00am to watch some cow milking, as the local ladies go out early in the morning to milk
their cows (feeding them potatoes to keep them happy while the milking is going on). I was
determined to see this myself tomorrow, but I later found out Don had exaggerated a bit —
the milking usually doesn't start until 6:15am-6:30am.
Walking around on my own, I had a peek into the Catholic Church (St. Joseph's, with
the red roof; the Anglican Church has the green roof) and discovered that besides the one
public restroom in the settlement (which doesn't have a light), St. Joseph's is a good place to
visit if you need to use a toilet, for inside is a clean, well-lit little bathroom. Wanting a place
to sit and jot some notes down into my notepad, I actually used the church loo — though I
also used it for real, knowing I'd soon be going on a long hike. On the walls of the church
were shelves of wholesome family videos, and there was even a small Casio organ for hymns.
Back outside I ran into Simon, and we talked for a bit. I figured the first launch from
the RMS wouldn't arrive until later — but at 8:10am the first bunch of passengers was
already walking around the settlement. As I had left my small daypack back at the house, I
had to now scurry back to fetch it — for today was the scheduled Base hike, and we were to
leave at 8:30am. Back at the house, Monica had a packed lunch waiting for me (a cheese-
and-tomato sandwich), and after filling my water bottle up with fresh Tristan tap water, I
hurried back to where the hikers were gathering. All in all there would be 27 people and 4
guides going on the Base walk, as Conrad made sure we were all accounted for — and we
soon boarded the 4 vehicles (2 bakkies, 1 Land Rover, and an open truck) which would take
us out to the start of the walk (out past the potato patches). Carl was going on the hike as
well (his first time), and he had a radio with him to help coordinate things if people fell
behind.
The cost of the hike was £6/US$9 and £2/US$3 more for the round-trip
transportation between town and the start of the walk (the normal tourist fare for the bus)
— though when Geoff (the head purser) first mentioned the hike on the RMS, he didn't
mention the transportation fee wasn't included with the £6. Geoff said he'd pay for the hike
today (with us having to pay him back at some point later on), but none of us was expecting
to have to pay the £2 transportation fee as well (collected by Conrad on the return). With all
of us piled into the 4 vehicles, we began driving out past the last set of potato patches (the
sight of people standing in the open truck behind us made them look almost like migrant
farm workers), and finally got out of the trucks to begin our walk at 9:00am.
With blue skies and warm weather, today would be a perfect day for the hike... the
hills around us were a beautiful green, and though we walked for a bit through some flat
land, we soon began to climb. It turned out to be quite a nice workout: though nothing
extraordinary, the hike requires walking along narrow trails and climbing steep hills
(towards the top there's a rope to hang onto), and is certainly not something which someone
in their 80s should try. Still, I was surprised that the group did as well as they did, with
myself usually being somewhere in the middle of the crowd.
During the walk we had a chance to talk to Neil and the other guides, and learned a
lot of information: families on the island can have as many potato patches as they want (if
there's room), and some large families have quite a few... there are two types of potatoes
grown... fruit on Tristan is rare, though there are some peach, apple, and plum trees on the
island... farm animals on Tristan include cows, sheep, pigs, and chickens... most islanders
go swimming out by the patches... there are sharks in the water, but if you keep close to
shore you should be ok (the sand on the island is volcanic black, and extremely fine)... to
put up a camping hut you must first obtain permission, but it's free to do so (no property
costs)... the camping hut for the Administrator is the furthest one out (off by itself by the old
patches and the rock out in the water), and can be seen from the climb up... there is daily
bus service (except Sunday) running between town and the patches... and when the
potatoes are harvested, most are stored until needed.
Passing the sheep paddocks on the hillside at the beginning of the walk, Neil
mentioned there are about 800 sheep, and either the ears or the wool is tagged so that
people can tell who the various sheep belong to. Way off in the distance, someone pointed
out a rockhopper penguin, and Neil told us they're a little hard to find now, as it was
currently moulting season (later that afternoon I noticed feathers around where I finally
spotted some).
The hike today certainly was a good climb, and it took a full two hours to reach the
Base (located at a height of about 2,000ft — the volcano itself is over 6,000ft). The path
winds through valleys, around corners, and along barely-marked trails, with the occasional
need to shove some bushes aside. We also passed many interesting plants, and John (the
botanist also on the St. Helena trip) pointed out an edible berry which is nicknamed
"diddledee" (when I later mentioned this to Monica and Ed, they said yes, they use the berry
to make pies... when I asked them "what do you call it?" [meaning the proper name of the
berry], Monica replied "oh, berry pie").
On the way up I noticed one hillside was nothing but a clean slope of red dirt... half-
jokingly, I asked if we could slide down it on the return instead of having to walk down the
same way we were coming up — and was surprised to hear "yes, if you want to." Going up
it's hard to see the top, and just as you think what you're looking at is the Base, you realize
it's not — and there's still quite a ways to go. As the climb becomes steeper near the end
there are ropes which you can grab on to (hammered into the ground or tied around trees),
though the first one we came across wasn't properly fastened.
It was 11:00am when the middle of the group finally reached the Base. Finally
having a chance to relax, we all sat down on the grass (getting a lot of sun, as there was no
shade around) and ate a bit of lunch while looking down at the spectacular view below.
Passengers who had stayed on the RMS were given a box lunch (complete with yoghurt), but
I ate the sandwich Monica made for me, drinking only some of the Tristan water (as I only
had a small bottle and didn't want to finish it yet).
Up at the top albatrosses were flying all around us, and it was quite a beautiful sight.
Though Graham and Neil (the journalists) didn't go on the hike, Don and Callin did — along
with 25 other RMS passengers, including Susan, the retired 747 pilot, a middle-aged South
African couple, and even Hanny (who joined the group for the walk). After resting and
chatting over lunch at the lookout point, some of us decided to explore around the base —
as just a short walk in from the viewpoint is an area where many albatrosses nest... and we
were soon able to see and approach a baby albatross (approximately 1 month old) at a close
distance. When albatross babies feel threatened, their only defense is to spit, though by
now this particular one had been approached so much this morning that he was out of spit
(though he still went through the motions). White and extremely fluffy, he sat there on his
nest while we all went up to take pictures (though I tried not to disturb him as best I could),
and while others then went further into the area, most of us returned to the lookout to eat a
bit more and enjoy the view of the patches and ocean below.
At 11:25pm I was ready to go down, but the guides didn't want to start heading back
until everyone was ready — as some people were still just making it up to the top and others
had decided to go deeper into the area behind us. So with no shade around I put on more
suntan lotion, took off my shoes and socks, drank most of the water, and chatted more with
the group (many of whom decided to lay out to get a suntan). Udo and Susan had noticed I
didn't return to the ship last night, and were surprised to learn I was able to arrange a stay
on the island. While talking, we all took pictures of the view (with both Nightingale and
Inaccessible Islands visible from the grassy lookout), with it being so nice that the husband
of the South African couple wound up walking down halfway (only to climb up again) in
order to borrow more film and a different camera for his wife. After climbing up for a second
time, the husband and some others decided to start down on their own — and as 12:05pm
came and some of the guides still weren't back (having gone deeper into the area behind us
with some other hikers), I decided to start down myself as well.
On my way down I had to be careful not to slip, so I used every available rope... I also
soon decided to do what a few other hikers were trying, sliding down the steep grade on my
butt (using my arms to help push me). Of course this turned my tan pants green and
brown, but in the end I didn't care... it was quicker and safer than trying to maneuver down
on foot, though I walked normally for part of the way as well.
By now some of the guides started down to make sure we were going in the right
direction, and we soon came to the slope which was nothing but soft rust-colored dirt and
stones. Once there, I decided to run down it all the way to the bottom — the slope was so
steep and the dirt so soft that each time I'd set my foot down, I'd slide a few feet before I had
a chance to lift it up (I called it "dirt skiing"). With the momentum of going down this way, I
fell down more than once, though I was always able to land softly on my butt (continuing to
descend until I dug my hands in to stop). This certainly was a faster (and much more fun)
way to get to the bottom than walking — and I managed to finish the last half of the Base
hike in about 3 minutes. Just before reaching the bottom, I stopped to look down at the
colorful, lightweight volcanic rocks, collecting four of them (red, grey, orange, and black) to
take home as souvenirs.
While waiting for the rest of the group down below at 1:10pm, I decided to join Don in
having a look at the nearby ocean for a bit. Taking off my shoes, the fine black volcanic
sand was extremely comfortable, and also made the waves appear somewhat dark. Rolling
up my long pants and wading in the water, I was surprised at how warm the water was,
even this far south. Sadly, I did see some trash in the area (broken glass and rusted cans),
though I suppose few beaches in the world now are completely trash-free. My feet definitely
looked strange as I tried to brush the fine black sand off them in order to put my shoes and
socks back on... and I soon joined the rest of the group walking back to where the vehicles
were waiting. Along the way, I asked Neil about the homes the islanders have on
Nightingale... he replied that when the sea is calm enough, they will sometimes go there for
a vacation, though the huts also serve as an evacuation area in case the Tristan volcano
erupts again (they always use the longboats to get to Nightingale, not the fishing boats).
Wondering what happens when there's a fight between people in a community where
everyone must live so close, Neil replied that it's been a long time since there was such a
fight. He also mentioned that most food comes to the island from South Africa aboard the
two fishing ships (Kelso and Edinburgh) rather than the RMS, as the RMS only comes once
a year for a few days, and if it can't anchor long enough for the food to be offloaded (in the
case of bad weather), everything then has to be returned.
Standing next to the vehicles, Conrad was waiting in full uniform to collect the
£2/US$3 fee from each of us for the transportation — which we had to pay before being
taken back (luckily we all had the money on us, as Geoff hadn't made clear that the £2
transportation fee wasn't included with the £6 for the hike). The husband of the South
African couple decided to save £1 and jog back though, taking off his shirt and running
along the road.
Heading back, I found out a bit more about the fishing situation: this year there are
only 4 days of fishing left for the island to reach its quota... last year they managed to catch
the quota in only 18 fishing days, but those days lasted until 6:30pm — this year, the
fishing days have been shortened to end at 4:00pm, so a few more days were necessary...
and the quota is strictly adhered to in order to prevent overfishing.
Returning to town at 2:15pm, I first went back to Monica's to pick up the tube with
my maps in it, though I wasn't sure if it would now be too late to send them — as I had seen
a sign up at the post office yesterday saying that the mail would close at 4:00pm on Tuesday
(yesterday) — or if the weather was good, 12:00 noon today (as they must have time to pile,
sort, and send the mail off to the RMS). However upon walking in, Dylis said that due to the
unusually good weather, they would be accepting mail until 3:00pm today — meaning I was
able to send off my Tristan maps from Tristan itself instead of having to carry them with me
all the way home. Dylis also told me that if I used an "airmail" sticker it would travel airmail
via Cape Town, but if not, it would stay aboard the RMS until it reached the UK in March.
Paying £3.70/US$5.55 and using the airmail sticker (laughing a bit, as of course it still has
to go by ship for a good part of the journey), the tube from Tristan did indeed arrive quickly
once I returned home — at least a month before the tube I mailed from St. Helena did (the
St. Helena tube also arrived damaged, while the tube from Tristan arrived in perfect shape).
While at the post office, I picked up a few more stamps and post cards (mailing one to my
dad and one to myself), and noticed a list of names and addresses up on the wall of people
overseas wishing to have pen pals on the island.
From the post office I ran into Don again, who took me over to meet Mr. Lindsey
Repetto, one of the few model-boat makers left on the island. Commenting that young kids
today don't care about such things anymore, he showed us some of the model wood-and-
canvus longboats he was currently making in his workshop out in front of his house.
Telling us they take about 60 hours to complete, he said most of the wood used is local,
though he does use one type of imported wood. A very friendly fellow, he charges
£40/US$60 for a boat (plus about £3 to ship them overseas), though he didn't have any
ready to sell, as he was currently working on boats for others who had already placed
orders.
Splitting up with Don, I passed Conrad on the street (who complained he had so
much to do)... usually he has Lorraine as an assistant, but as she and her husband were
about to leave on the RMS tomorrow, he was extremely busy, having to do everything
himself.
Making my way down the row of small, attached buildings near the fish factory, I
decided to have a look inside the market once more. Inside, I was surprised to see just how
cheap many items were, especially considering they all have to be imported from
somewhere... soap: 14p/21c, large toothpaste: 39p/59c, Tabasco sauce: £2.20/US$3.30,
500g box of Omo laundry detergent: 48p/72c, 8-pk of mini Kellog's cereals: £1.33/US$2.00,
biscuits (cookies): 50p/75c, a box of wafers: 53p/80c, white grape juice in the bottle:
24p/36c, box of 40 red tea bags: 33p/50c, good SPF30 sunscreen from South Africa:
£3.88/US$5.82, and a cheap Chinese-made harmonica: £1.58/US$2.37. When I mentioned
to a lady at the store how inexpensive some of the prices were, she commented that a lot of
the products (such as toothpaste) are subsidized... and when she asked how the prices
compare to those I'm used to at home, I told her how much some of the items would cost
back in the States (using the toothpaste as an example). Her reply was "maybe that's why
so many visitors stock up on toothpaste here..." Later by the register, I saw a notice for
tourists posted up, saying that as prices for certain items (such as toothpaste, tea, and jam)
are subsidized for islanders, please understand that higher prices for these items need to be
charged for visitors ("please see the price sheet for the visitor price") — but the lady didn't
mention this policy, and seemed to indicate that I could buy the toothpaste at the marked
(islander) price (sure enough, as an experiment the next day, I bought a few items such as
toothpaste — and even though the notice was posted right by the register, the cashier just
rung the toothpaste up at the subsidized price, never even mentioning the notice). Asking
next about the doughnuts I had seen yesterday, the lady told me they were all out (as you
need to get them early in the morning before they're gone)... she did ask if I wanted to pre-
order the baked item for tomorrow, but as it was to be beef pies, I decided not to.
The Governor's wife then came into the store to look around herself, and joined me
browsing through the souvenir section. The store was selling great coffee mugs with a
detailed, full-color map of the island for only £3/US$4.50 — and even though I figured it
would never last the journey all the way back to California, decided to buy one anyway (even
Mrs. Governor wanted one, though in the end, she bought a tea cosy, afraid that the mug
would break). Asking the cashier if she had a box or anything to protect it with, she came
back with some paper towels, and wrapped them around the mug... in the end it actually
did make it all the way back home, and now sits nicely on my knick-knack shelf. Leaving
the store, I stopped by the candy area (by the exit, so kids don't have to enter the main store
just to buy sweets), and bought myself a candy bar for 23p/35c... on the way out, I noticed
a sign up on the door saying the store would be closed for stocktake on January 30th.
Next I decided to walk down to the fish factory (a large, modern building close to the
water). A "No Unauthorised Entry" sign was on the gate, but as it was open, I had a quick
peek around the grounds (though I didn't actually walk inside the building itself — even
though its door was wide open). No one was around the factory today, but looking in at the
building through its open door, I could see the clean, modern facilities which are used to
freeze and box the crayfish, from the metal chutes the fish come down on to the scales they
get weighed with (including a sign indicating a Ladies Tea Room off to the side). Tristan
fishermen use short long-line nets from their boats, not the incredibly large ones which trap
and kill the albatrosses which some other countries use (at the reception tonight, Jimmy
Glass mentioned he had heard that some of the Japanese long-line fishing vessels use nets
over 60 miles long).
From the empty fish factory I walked up a bit to see the satellite techs working on
their dishes (the two dishes would face opposite directions)... one dish was already up, and
the parts for the second were laid out on the grass. Trying to figure out the assembly
instructions for the second dish, the techs searched for a missing screw — and though both
dishes were eventually set up, a bad storm in May 2001 knocked one of them over.
With the satellite team working outside the radio station, I decided to have a quick
look in at Radio Tristan myself, as no one was inside the building and I was curious to see
how it compared with Radio St. Helena. Inside, the building is divided up into two halves:
one side is the communications area (with a two-way radio, a radio-telephone, and a satellite
phone), and the other side is for Radio Tristan: the small studio contained a CD player, a
double-cassette deck, 2 LP turntables, and a simple mixing board — as well as plenty of
recordings. On the wall were shelves of old LPs (mostly pop or country albums, as well as
some from Radio Helvetica — just like St. Helena), some cassettes, and a few CDs. No one I
asked seemed to know the exact schedule of Radio Tristan, though most people said it
broadcasts for about 2 hours in the morning, and a bit in the afternoons, with a local lady
acting as DJ.
Stopping by at the Museum/Craft Centre again, the lady at the front showed me a
first-day cover envelope someone had dropped, and asked if I would take it back to the RMS
and return it to whomever dropped it. I agreed, but said I wouldn't be returning back to the
ship until tomorrow, and was afraid it would get messed up in my pack... the lady asked
who I was staying with, and then said she'd drop it off for me at Monica's later in the day.
The museum half of the building has quite a few nice displays on Tristan, including some
historical photographs from 1947, showing the old thatched-roof homes on the island before
the volcano erupted. After reading a bit on Tristan's history, I asked the lady at the desk
how locals pronounce "Tristan da Cunha" (as I've heard foreigners pronounce it both "coon-
ah" as well as "coon-nya") — and her reply (as well as Monica and Ed's when I asked them
later) was "coon-ah."
At 3:55pm I walked over to the cafe — glad it was still open, as I was pretty hungry.
Before entering, I could hear the place was noisy and lively, with locals chatting away in
separate groups of men and women... though as soon as I walked through the door, an
immediate silence fell upon the room — as with the presense of a stranger, people quietly
returned to eating. Ordering half a crayfish sandwich, a slice of chocolate cake, and an
orange juice box, I sat down to eat, completely aware that were I not in the room people
would be acting much differently (by this time the other passengers were back on board the
RMS, and the locals probably didn't expect a visitor to walk in). Before leaving, I asked the
lady at the counter if the cafe belonged to the government or if she owned it, and was told
that she does in fact own it (making the sandwiches herself) — though she rents the
building from the government.
From the cafe I had a look inside the Anglican Church (St. Mary the Virgin Church)
and remembered someone mentioning that there were no sermons on Sunday at present,
because it would be a few months before the new priest would arrive (services were currently
being conducted by local lay priests). Quite a nice church, it had a large electric organ
inside.
Continuing to stroll around, I passed a lady (perhaps in her 60s) also out for a walk.
I don't know if she saw me coming from the church or not (she was wearing a cross for a
necklace), but her reaction to my "hello" was much different than other locals — instead of
just answering back "hello" while passing, she greeted me with a smile, asked how I was
doing, and stopped to talk with me for a while. As we were standing in front of a house with
a ham antenna, I asked her whose house it was... she told me it was Jimmy Glass' (the
Chief Islander) — though Andy and Lorraine (two locals already on board the RMS, ready to
head to the UK for few months of study) were also ham operators. I know that as just a
visitor to Tristan I must respect the feelings and attitudes of the locals (as it's their island!)
— but the friendliess and willingness of this one lady to chat with a stranger for a bit really
made me feel better after having witnessed the way everyone in the cafe closed up as soon
as I walked through the door.
Continuing to meander around the settlement, I soon ran into Graham — who
mentioned an Islander's reception at 6:00pm for the visiting guests (the Governor, the
journalists, satellite techs, etc.) — but of course, the few "normal" RMS passengers staying
on the island weren't invited. I very much wanted to attend this reception if for no other
reason than it would be interesting to see... Graham didn't mind, but of course I didn't have
an invitation.
Graham also mentioned he just saw a penguin out by the water where all the large
black volcanic rocks were — so splitting up, I went to have a look myself. Following his
directions on where to turn off the dirt path, I climbed over the large, loose rocks for quite a
while trying to see the shore below... but had no luck, and didn't see one penguin.
Disappointed, I finally started heading back... but coming down the dirt road from the other
direction was none other than the new doc and his two kids in the official ambulance Land
Rover, taking it out for a spin. When I told them I was looking for penguins but couldn't
find any, the doc said to hop in, as they had seen them all over the dock area earlier, and
would show me where they were (at the fish factory before, I did try looking by the docks
myself, but didn't see any penguins). Giving me a lift, we stopped by the docks and walked
down, with the kids eagerly trying to find the penguins again for me. Soon, the daughter
found one hidden in the breakwater stones (next to a discarded orange Fanta can), and
another one nearby. Thanking the kids (as well as the dad), we then split up, as they
needed to get ready for the reception, and I needed to walk back to the house.
It was now 5:30pm, and I wanted to shower and change out of my dusty clothes. The
RMS left for Inaccessible Island at 4:40pm, (it was to sail by Inaccessible Island and anchor
off it tonight — something I'd miss, but was happy to give up in order to spend more time on
Tristan), and as I thought about it, I realized Tristanians don't have the same fondness for
the RMS as Saints do — for as the RMS is the lifeblood of St. Helena, it's the Kelso and
Edinburgh fishing vessels which are important to Tristanians. With the RMS gone
(hopefully to return), I was able to have a glimpse of what the island is normally like without
dozens of tourists wandering around it.
In Monica's kitchen, I mentioned wanting to go to the reception... Monica's reply was
"but you don't have an invitation, do you?" — but when I said that I had hoped to meet
Jimmy Glass before leaving (both because he's the Chief Islander as well being a ham — as
I've always been interested in ham radio and shortwave), Warren chimed in that Jimmy
would be at the reception, and said it'd be ok for me to come along — he'd introduce me to
him. While Warren dressed up in a white shirt with black jeans (and a two-way radio), I had
the choice between clean shorts or dusty, dirty long slacks. Deciding on the slacks (with the
long-sleeve shirt), we left at 6:05pm to go down to the school, where the reception was
taking place.
The school was packed tonight, with lots of locals as well as guests... and as drinks
were made at a make-shift bar, small hors d'ouevres on toothpicks were being served by
roaming locals (not wanting to impose too much, I took just one toothpick and a tiny slice of
pizza). Among the guests was Bryan (seemingly a bit surprised to see me) and Liz, the
Governor and his wife, the journalists, the new and old doctors and their families, and the
satellite techs. Jimmy hadn't arrived yet, but I was immediately asked if I wanted a drink (I
accepted a Coke), and everyone was friendly, open, and warm — not just to me, but to each
other (if for no other reason, I'm glad I attended the event because it allowed me to see the
islanders' warmer side, which isn't always displayed when tourists are around). A group of
men were sitting on the edge of the school stage, and as we chatted and joked around, I told
them I'd play the keyboard only if one of them sang (as the stage had 3 Casio keyboards, a
drum set, and an electric guitar). Some handwritten music was resting on one of the
keyboards (including "When The Saints Go Marching In") — and though all were
monophonic (with only a melody line), "Saints" also had the guitar chords notated.
A few minutes later Jimmy arrived, and Warren introduced me as Don was asking
him some questions. A friendly fellow, we talked a bit about everything from ham radio to
island politics: he's in his third term as Chief Islander, and (among many other duties)
serves on the Council, is a pig farmer, a lay minister at the Catholic Church, and a diver
(saying the visibility is about 15m in the area)... though he's able to talk with people from all
over the world on his ham rig (including many from the States), he has regular schedules
with ham buddies on the US east coast, St. Helena, and Japan (usually in the 40m range)...
there are 3 lay ministers for the Catholic Church who rotate weekly until the new priest
arrives in a couple of months... most items on the island are jacked up 15%-40% for
shipping costs, but some are subsidized to help defray the expense... liquor has a 150%
tarrif — so "drinking is kind of patriotic!" Jimmy smiled, as the government relies on the
income for a large source of its revenue (the stashes of Castle beer will usually last 6
months)... just about all islanders have camping huts on Nightingale Island, and if the
volcano erupts again, it would be the place to evacuate to... there is no tax on the island...
and people here help each other, never charging money for their services (this would be seen
as an insult).
After talking for a while with Jimmy, I was ready to leave (as I didn't want to overstay
my welcome). After thanking Liz once again for being so nice, I walked outside to the
courtyard area (the school is shaped like a square, with a courtyard in the center)... there,
Warren was hanging out with some boisterous buddies who offered me a beer (everyone was
drunk), and we joked around for a bit. Looking around, I once again noticed the seperation
between the sexes — those not in the school hall were separated by gender, with the guys
hanging out together, and the women working to prepare and serve the food.
Just as I was ready to leave, Jimmy stood up inside the hall to make a speech — so I
peered in from the outside to hear it. Saying goodbye to the old doctor and his family, he
joked that his advice for the new doc is to take any advice given to him by the old doc —
except on how to catch fish. The old doc was absolutely loved by everyone on the island, and
it showed as they all wished him goodbye (I was constantly told by locals how good he was,
and how he and his wife and kids would really be missed... apparently, the doc wouldn't
take ANY chances with people's health, and if something seemed questionable, instead of
advising them to wait, he'd get them on the next transport to Cape Town for treatment).
After Jimmy's speech, the Governor stood up, mentioning that he had just been informed 2
minutes ago that he was to give a speech. Doing an excellent job, the Governor told
everyone how impressed he was with the island's self-relaince, commenting that he wants to
try some of the same ideas (such as stamps and commemerative coins) back on St. Helena.
He went on to point out how, with St. Helena's high unemployment rate, Tristan enjoys full
employment — and that while there will be 150 applications for 30 overseas openings from
Saints, Tristan can't even fill their quota, with islanders content to stay at home. He also
mentioned how happy he was to see so many young people on the Council, commenting that
on St. Helena, most councilmembers are in their 60s and 70s. Including a few jokes, his
speech was quite well-received (as was Jimmy's).
With the speeches over, I walked through the school before leaving, having a look
around some of the classrooms... there was one with about 7-8 computers in it (no internet
though), and up on the chalkboard of the same room was the music to "The First Noel."
Walking up the hill at 7:00pm, I ran into two friendly kids: Glenda Swain (10) and
Patrick Green (7) riding bikes, eager to talk with me and tell me everything about anything...
when I told them my name, they said "we have another Larry on the island... but you look
more like Jeremy..." (telling this to John Elsmore, I managed to meet this "Jeremy" person
the next day — and sure enough, we do look a little alike). Talking to me about everything
from giants to the fact that Carol Swain (on the RMS) is Glenda's godmother, they would
have been happy to talk to me all evening had I not needed to return back to Monica's (as it
was already getting quite late for dinner). Asking if I could take their picture, I wound up
sending it to them (in care of Monica) after returning home.
As I walked into Monica and Ed's at 7:25pm, the lady from the Craft Centre was
there chatting with Monica, having delivered the lost fist-day envelope for me to bring back
to the RMS. Apologizing for being so late, I explained that Glenda and Patrick had stopped
to talk with me — and when I told them that the kids had said I looked like "Jeremy",
everyone laughed and agreed. By now, people had opened up more (perhaps because the
RMS was gone?), and the Craft Centre lady expressed surprise herself at how surprised a
tourist had been upon finding out that admission to the Museum was free.
Dinner that night was chicken with stuffing, sausage, cabbage, corn, fries, and
spotted dick cake (pudding — don't laugh, that's what it's called... we were served it on the
RMS as well) with ice-cream and cling peaches. Over dinner, we talked about various
things: Ed commented that the current north-easterly wind meant that perhaps some bad
weather was coming... there is a fire department (part of Search & Rescue), and the last big
fire was about 5 years ago (an electrical fire in an ex-pat's house, after which the islanders
donated clothing and other items to help him out)... and both Ed and Monica commented
once again on how wonderful and well-liked the outgoing doctor was.
Having heard Monica ask one of the young guys who stopped by earlier (Leon) if he
was going to the dance, I inquired about it, and was told that there was indeed a disco
tonight at Prince Philip Hall, and I was welcome to attend. When Conrad came home, he sat
down in front of the TV, eager to watch some new videos that had just arrived in the RMS'
mail... when I asked if he was going to the pub or the dance, he said no... as usually
because of his job he's had to give up drinking (with last night being an exception).
With the dance taking place in the gym side of Prince Philip Hall (where the mail had
been handed out the other night), I first stopped in at the pub for a bit. There, I saw Carol
(happy to have been able to see family and friends before returning back to her RMS duties
tomorrow) as well as all the other ex-pats. After being introduced by Simon to the family he
was staying with and chatting with the vulcanologist, I met up and talked with John
Elsmore for a bit. A friendly fellow from the UK, John is the "8th name" on the island now,
as he, his wife, and young daughter have settled on Tristan, at least for the time being.
Originally from the UK, he's been trying to teach himself guitar, and even though his
progress has been slow, I urged him to continue, as it's something he really enjoys doing.
When the subject of Hanny came up, he said the reason she's unliked on the island is
because of her personality: apparently she has barged into people's homes to ask them
questions, and has made comments such as "your dress is dirty" — and Tristan is the one
place where you cannot be pushy.
Dylis rang the "last drinks" bell at 9:30pm, and at 9:45pm I left the pub to have a
look in at the dance across the hall. When I had first walked into the building earlier and
peeked in at the dance, the room seemed pretty empty even with the music playing — but
now the dance was in full swing, and there was a nice-sized crowd inside as rock music
played and disco lights flashed in the dark room. Bryan was dancing with 6 girls, but this
was the exception: everywhere else on the dance floor there was only one gal to each guy,
and in something quite different than what I'm used to, the girls don't just walk out onto the
dance floor to dance, they must first be invited by a guy (along one wall were all the young
ladies, sitting there until being asked by a gentleman to dance). As I walked in, a local guy
came up to say hello, and asked if I wanted to dance... but as I didn't know anyone there, I
just said "that's ok"... he insisted though, saying "it's alright!" — and brought me over to
meet his wife, introducing us, and setting it up so I could go out and dance with her on the
floor (to the theme from "Flashdance"). When the song was over I thanked her, and just
hung out on the side for a bit... but a few minutes later the guy came back to ask if I wanted
to dance some more — and this time, introduced me to a nice young lady named Maria. We
shared a good fast song, and it was a lot of fun. When finished, I thanked Maria and left to
return to the house, walking back under a beautiful clear, starry night, and glad that I had
attended the dance.
Back at Monica's by 10:20pm, I could still hear the music from the dance going
strong for well over another hour. Walking into the bedroom, there on the bed was a
computer-printed bill/receipt for £40 for two nights' accomodation on the island, with a
notice to please pay at the Treasury (I was going to pay Monica and Ed directly tomorrow,
but I guess the routine is for people to pay at the Treasury office). Starting to write in my
journal, I heard the sound of drizzle about an hour later — and by 11:30pm, heard the
sound of rain (Ed had indeed been correct with his prediction, but there had been a clear
sky just an hour ago!) As the rain began to fall, my first thought was "uh-oh"... I hoped the
rain wouldn't mean trouble trying to re-board the RMS, and had a fleeting moment of panic
wondering what would happen if I was stuck on the island for a few weeks until the
Edinburgh left. The rain stopped, but soon started up again even harder a bit later as I
continued to write. Expecting the lights to shut off at 12:00am midnight, I was surprised
when they were still on at 12:30am — but perhaps it was because tonight was something of
a special occasion (dances are usually held on Saturday nights, but with the doctor and his
family leaving tomorrow, I think everyone considered tonight to be a farewell party). At
12:45am, the electricity finally went off, and after remembering to turn off the switch this
time, I continued writing my journal by flashlight until 1:20am. With my desire to wake up
early to watch the cows being milked, I set my watch for 5:00am, and knew I'd only have a
few hours of sleep tonight.
Misc. info: earlier in the evening, Monica had given me a gift of two pair of hand-
knitted socks (one white and one grey), each with two rings on them (the rings symbolize the
level of friendship the giver has towards the receiver — one ring means you're an
acquaintance, two rings means you're friends, and three rings means a whole lot more)...
earlier as well, Sheila mentioned that she once had a cat, as at one time there were cats on
the island — but the doctor at the time thought they were responsible for spreading disease,
so he forced them all to be put to sleep. Now there are just black-and-white dogs, which all
look alike.
Jan. 25: Tristan da Cunha [Cow Milking / Pigbite] / RMS
Though my alarm was set for 5:00am, I woke up on my own at 4:48am. Having been
told by Don that the cow milkings happen at 5:00am, I slowly crept outside with my
flashlight, so as not to wake up anyone else in the house. Wearing my lightweight
windbreaker, I soon took it off — as even before dawn it was actually quite pleasant and
clear. After wandering through the quiet settlement for a while without seeing anyone else
about, I began to worry that I might be in the wrong place... I walked over to where the cows
were (both by the cemetery as well as by the volcano), but most were still asleep. In a way,
walking around before anyone else was up was kind of neat... the electricity hadn't yet been
turned on, and the settlement was completey quiet. After 45 minutes, I finally saw someone
walking around outside his house... going up to him to say hello, he told me that the cow
milkings usually don't start until 6:00am or a little before, and pointed out where to go.
Sure enough, at 5:50am I heard the shouts of a lady calling out for her cow — though it
soon stopped and became quiet again.
One thing to mention about the cows on Tristan: they must be the smartest cows in
the world. I've always thought of cows as being stupid, but on Tristan, they're trained to
come when the ladies call them — and as hard as it is to believe, it's true: the cows all
recognize their owners' voices, and come to be milked when they hear their names shouted
(looking forward not to the milking so much as the potatoes the ladies give to appease them
during milking). As each family is allowed two cows in the prime grazing area, many will
give both cows the same name so that both will come when one name is called.
Shortly after 6:00am I began to hear the shouts of other ladies in the distance, and
soon caught up with Jean Swain (a nice Tristanian who's been to the UK)... she was calling
her cows, but they weren't anywhere to be seen, as she commented that they probably
wandered over to Pigbite where the grazing was currently better. Saying that her auntie
would now have to take care of the milking (as she had to get ready for work), she left. The
next lady I ran into also couldn't find her cows, but at 6:30am I met Trina, who spotted hers
off in the distance. Yelling out "Fortune! Fortune!" (the name she had given both her cows),
I watched as they wandered over to Trina and her friend.
Before milking begins, the cow's hind legs are tied together to prevent it from kicking,
and each is given some potatoes in a bucket to eat while being milked (watching as someone
else's cow followed Trina as well, she commented that they're eager to come because they
know there are potatoes in the bucket). Both Trina and her friend managed to get quite a lot
of milk, but as both cows had recently had calves, they only milked what was needed before
untying the hind legs and letting the calves in to get some. After watching I offered to help
carry one of the large buckets, and walked with Trina and her friend back to their house
(where the milk will first be boiled before being consumed). Having never seen a real cow
milking before, it was quite interesting.
At 6:50am I was back at Monica's, and Sheila was up already with her foot hurting
quite a bit (she would take the day off from school to see the new doctor about it). Being
served freshly-baked bread for breakfast (along with eggs, bacon, and toast), Monica
mentioned that automatic bread-making machines are popular on the island, though they
don't have one themselves. Having some fresh Tristan water from the tap, I commented on
how pure and light it tasted... Monica told me that when Warren returned from St. Helena
(where water is rationed), she was amused at how he kept bugging her not to let the tap run
— as water is plentiful on Tristan. Unlike mineral waters such as Evian (which to me have a
definite taste), Tristan water is light and pure with absolutely no taste at all (exactly how I
like my water), and if it ever does wind up being sold overseas, I'll certainly buy some.
Monica, Ed, and Connie (Conrad) have a total of 17 patches for themselves scattered
in different areas, and today Ed was going to walk (for exercise) out to the family patches to
work on them — though he'd take the bus back later. When I asked about the bus, he said
there is a set schedule, but you're not allowed to bring any packages, potatoes, or other
vegetables on board. They usually begin planting in July or August (winter in the southern
hemisphere) and harvest between September and February. Often they will rotate both the
crops and fertilizer type to help keep the soil healthy... and once the potatoes are harvested,
they're stored in the sheds out by the patches. As I'd probably be gone by the time he
returned, I said goodbye to Ed and thanked him for his hospitality.
After breakfast I went out for a bit, running into Simon and John Elsmore... Simon
had misplaced his camera, and was telling Connie about it. After reporting on the camera,
the three of us walked down to Pigbite (the area on the other side of the volcano, towards the
water) to have a look at some seals. Along the way we passed a lot of cows, and John told
us people are able to tell the cows apart by marking their ears in a special way (there was a
fence to keep the cows out, but as grazing was much better here, the cows had broken
through and were now grazing where they shouldn't be). We then passed the island
junkyard/garbage dump, and though we didn't spend any time sifting through it, Graham
later mentioned he had spent some time there the other day, and had found some
interesting old items.
After walking through a muddy field (due to the rain last night), we reached the rocks
by the water, where quite a few seals were out relaxing and playing. There were also some
rockhopper penguins around, and John even picked one up to let us to have a closer look.
Walking back, John told us a little bit about island life: he, along with his Tristanian
wife and young daughter live in a 10-year-old house (built by an ex-pat who left the island)
which they bought for £10,500/US$15,750 with furniture... Radio Tristan operates daily
from 9:00am-11:00am, plus a few hours in the late afternoon on Mondays, Wednesdays,
and Fridays (with Friday having a show hosted by the doctor — and both the Administrator
and Hanny have shows as well). John ought to know the schedule for the radio station, as
he has no job on the island, and spends most of his time at home looking after his daughter
and learning guitar. The reason he doesn't have a job is because not being a native
Tristanian, he hasn't been allowed to have one (at least for now) — for as there's virtually no
permanent immigration to the island, laws regarding newcomers are often made up on the
spot. There are times when it seems islanders don't want anyone around with experience in
matters, because on some level it means that the person with experience might be better
than everyone else. For instance, John's Tristanian wife was fully trained in the UK as a
nurse, but quit the island hospital because the people she was supposed to teach didn't
want to be taught. While not an expert with computers, John still had some knowledge of
how they work, and recently fixed a problem back in Cape Town similar to what the island's
computer was experiencing — yet no one asked for his help even after a fellow islander who
knew about John's experience recommended Jimmy ask him (John volunteering himself
would be awkward on Tristan, and isn't the custom here). He gets a pension from his old
job, and his wife is on call at the hospital part-time if there's an emergency, but not being
allowed to have a job means he has a lot of spare time on his hands. He won't be able to
vote for 5 years — and even though his wife is a Tristanian born and rasied on the island,
she won't be allowed to vote for another 2 years because of having left to go overseas for an
extended period of time. Mentioning that most people on the island have at most only 6
months of training, he said they do an excellent job nonetheless, citing the teachers as an
example. As his daughter is young now (10 or 11), they're content to stay on the island, but
will probably move back to the UK at some point when his daughter gets older (in order for
her to continue her education past the age of 15). Even with the downsides though, John
loves the island and its people, and is quite practical about living there, accepting the
customs and conditions that come with life on Tristan.
Walking back we passed Richard (one of the guides from the Base walk) by the
volcanic rocks, and soon found ourselves back at the school. As Simon wanted to say
goodbye to someone working there, we were given permission to enter a classroom... while
John said hello to his daughter and talked with the teacher a bit, I looked around the
room... the classroom was small yet nice, with one wall displaying the Chinese Zodiac
animals along with the names of local kids born under the corresponding years. Walking
out, I had a second look in at the multi-purpose room, re-checking the year on the plaque
(which indicated the school was built in 1975).
From the school I next walked over to the government building to pay the £40 for
accomodation at the treasury... and on the way back, stopped once more at the store.
Curious to see if I'd actually be charged more for toothpaste as a visitor (as it's subsidized
for islanders), I decided to pick up a small tube of Colgate for 22p/33c along with some
chocolate wafers (25p/38c) — and the cashier just rung the itmes up at the marked price,
without charging the higher visitor price (not needing the toothpaste, I offered it to friends
and fellow passengers on the RMS later, but in the end gave it to Nigel in case anyone came
to him needing toothpaste — also giving him the Avomine as well). A sign up on the wall of
the store mentioned some newly arrived "medicines" (items like Vicks, multi-vitamins, etc.),
and thinking it might be a good idea to pick up some extra vitamins, I told the cashier I'd
like to buy some. She first said I'd need to get them at the hospital — but then took out a
bag of items from the hospital and asked if it was what I wanted. Saying it was, she gave me
a small ziploc baggie containing 30 tiny orange multi-vitamins for 50p/75c.
Outside the store I ran into Bryan, who I stopped to thank for helping me stay on the
island. Then, realizing that I had collected quite a few items over the past few weeks, I went
back inside the store to see if they had any duffel bags for sale. They had only a cheap,
lightweight plastic grey duffel for £6.69/US$10.04, but I bought it anyway, figuring I'd
probably need it later in the trip.
Walking back to the house I realized just how fast the weather can change here... last
night it was clear coming home from the dance, yet raining just a bit later... early this
morning I didn't even need the jacket I had taken with me, though a few hours later with
John it became quite cool. However at only 10:30am, it was once again sunny and warm.
Back at Monica's, I stuffed the empty grey bag into my pack and sat down for an
early lunch at 10:45am (a delicious crayfish curry rice that Monica made for me). Sheila
had just come from seeing the new doctor about her sprained ankle, and now had a light
cast around it. Saying the new doctor seemed OK, everyone once again brought up how
great the departing doctor was (he would come at any hour, arrange a medivac to South
Africa at the slightest hint of a problem, and always have a smile on his face). The old doc,
along with his wife and two young teenage boys would go to Australia next for the boys'
education, and would be a hard act to follow. While eating, Carol (from the RMS) dropped
by to say a final goodbye to Monica before she was off for another year away from Tristan,
and as she hugged Sheila, I could see that this was hard on her, for even if she chooses to
live overseas, she has family and friends here that she grew up with... it had been two years
since the last time she was able to visit, and it would be at least another full year before
she'd be able to return.
After saying my own goodbyes to Monica and thanking her for everything (as well as
leaving her my water bottle and empty 35mm film containers to store things in), I too started
down for the docks. The RMS was supposed to return at 11:00am, but over lunch word
filtered in that it would be 11:15am (with passengers requested to be at the docks by
11:00am). However it wasn't actually until 11:45am that the RMS showed up, and it would
be even longer until any of us could get on board (a bit earlier in the day, we were told to
place all luggage for the ship onto the scooper part of an earthmover... and I hoped that my
pack wouldn't be lost or damaged).
Standing by the dock with the RMS now anchored offshore, the entire island seemed
to come out to say their goodbyes to Carol and the departing doctor (with Carol, the doctor,
and the doctor's family walking through a line of well-wishers, saying goodbye to each
person). Watching all of this, I spotted John with his wife and daughter (school was
dismissed so people could see the doctor off), and talked to them for a bit. As all this was
going on, the "cage" for the Governor and his party had to be readied, and this took quite a
while: apparently because of an incident with a former (overweight) Mrs. Governor who
slipped and fell while trying to board a launch, custom is now that the Governor and his
party sit down inside a cage, and have it lifted up and set down onto the launch by way of a
crane. Neither the Governor nor the Misses seemed to care much for this, but after a long
wait, we finally all watched (and took pictures) as the cage was hoisted up into the air and
set down inside the small launch, carrying the Governor, his wife, and Andrew (an older
Tristanian going to Cape Town for a hernia operation).
Finally we all boarded the launch except for Don (who would be on the following one),
with the cage containing the Governor, the Misses, and Andrew right next to me in the little
boat. Heading back to the RMS, I was amazed at how clear the ocean water was here — so
crystal clear that I could see every little imperfection on the RMS' hull in front of me. Both
the rope ladder and the gangway were down, but though I really wanted to try the rope
ladder, the Captain insisted all passengers use the gangway. One by one we all went up,
and from the RMS, I watched the launch return to the island to pick up the luggage, the
kayak, and Don. While final preperations to leave were being made, I went to grab a light
lunch upstairs (Chinese beef slices and a 55p Coke Light), and sat out on deck to look at
Tristan from a distance.
After some time the ship finally pulled up anchor, and while talking with the other
passengers (whom I hadn't seen in a few days), I looked at the island from a distance as the
Captain sailed around it to the other side before heading out to the open sea. On board I
met and talked with Andrew a bit (the older Tristanian going to Cape Town for a hernia
operation), and watched as Tristan slowly faded off into the distance, with its volcanic peak
finally visible. Though I had missed a chance to see Inaccessible Island up close (opting
instead to stay on Tristan overnight), we were now headed for Nightingale, and borrowing
someone's binoculars, I could see all the tiny camping huts the islanders had placed on the
island. Off the coast of Nightingale we passed the Edinburgh fishing ship, with its crew
waving at us and blowing their horn — as well as a small little fishing boat belonging to an
islander. On Nightingale itself there were hundreds of birds — and though I couldn't see
them from that distance with the naked eye, with binoculars, they looked like hundreds of
specks of moving dust. Sailing past Nightingale, there were some beautiful views of it as
well as Tristan off in the distance, basking in the warm weather.
One of the first things I did back on the ship was go down to the laundry room and
wash my clothes (the ones I had taken with me onto the island were sweaty and dusty —
and the ones I had left behind now all smelled of cigarettes, thanks to Willie smoking in the
room while I was on the island). Also in the laundry room was the Governor and his wife (it
appeared they had the same idea) — and when the Governor pressed the wrong key on the
washing machine (pressing START again instead of OPEN), the Misses dug into him, yelling
extremely unkind words right there in public (I myself made the mistake of forgetting to put
some underwear into the wash, and wound up washing them by hand in the sink there).
After sitting down to catch up on my journal for a while, a passenger pointed out a huge
school of dolphins (light grey on the bottom and dark grey/black on top) off the starboard
bow at 4:25pm — first they heading towards us before changing course to swim alongside
the ship. Looking out back from the sun deck, I could still see Tristan off in the distance,
and along with Simon, watched until it was slowly no longer visible with the haze at around
6:35pm. With Tristan now out of view, I went down below to take my clothes out of the
dryer and finally put on my sandals.
At dinner that night I wore shorts, and Tubby commented on it, saying "Shorts?
Larry!" — but not wanting to change, I said my long pants were dirty and being washed at
the moment (they actually WERE still a bit dirty, as the machine hadn't removed all the
stains — though they'd be good enough to wear on subsequent nights to dinner). Before
landing at Tristan, Michael had come up to me to ask if I wanted to change my dinner
seating... I was happy to be asked, for though there was nothing wrong with Udo, Tanya, or
Andre, I just didn't seem to have anything in common with them. Michael suggested sitting
at a table with some of the journalists, and it worked out perfectly: at the table was Graham,
Don, Callin, Simon, myself, and Liz (a nice lady who works and lives in Victoria Falls,
Zimbabwe). As with the St. Helena "Table 16" group, I actually looked forward to dinner
now each night, as conversation with these folks was really quite fun. One other nice
benefit of moving was that the waitress for this table (in the far corner of the room) was
Carol Swain, the RMS' one Tristanian — a sweet person who does an excellent job. As with
everyone else, Carol at first kept calling me "sir" — before I told her just to call me "Larry" (to
which the others at the table chimed in with similar requests). Carol was just doing her job
as trained of course, but (call me an American), I'd rather be friends with someone than
have them address me as "sir." While drinking the ship's water, I joked with Carol that I
wished I could be drinking Tristan water right now — to which she told me she had brought
five bottles of Tristan water with her onto the ship, and asked if I wanted one of them. Not
wanting to accept at first (as it should be her water), she insisted that it was OK, saying she
had already given two of them out to some of the staff — so I nodded my head and said
"sure, if you can spare it!" Saying she'd make sure to get one to me, the next day there was
a 2-litre Coke bottle filled with pure Tristan water waiting in my cabin.
After dinner I walked out onto the back of the top deck at 8:00pm for a half-hour,
and not one person came outside. Enjoying the quiet, I noticed it was cloudy now, though
the weather was still warm and the water smooth. At 9:00pm I went into the children's
room to watch the Disney short "Reluctant Dragon" until the music quiz began at 9:30pm...
with many (but not all) of the same questions as the music quiz on the St. Helena run, our
team managed to come in second (winning one bottle of champagne — though I was too
tired to stay up and didn't find out we had even won until the next morning). Sitting there
in the lounge, I felt a pang of sadness to be back on the ship again, already missing Tristan
a little, and knowing that I'd once again be stuck on the RMS for almost a week.
T R I S T A N T I M E S
Here are some stories found inside the most current edition of the Tristan Times:
There is a report on the eradication of Sagina Procumbens grass on Gough Island
from Jan. 20th to Feb. 14th (in which Warren Glass was one of the two people to travel to
the island to help eradicate the weed using two handheld spray pumps) — over £60,000 was
given by the Foreign and Commonwealth Office in London to support a full-scale eradication
programme to remove all alien weed on the island.
"Sorry, You Can't Retire Yet!: A working group of retirees agreed to take on the task of
rebuilding the road to the east of the settlement. This road is going to be heavily used for
the building of the new harbour, the drawing of stone for the new Administration Building,
and the new Septic tank, as well as private buildings. The road was expertly finished, and
the group were hastily employed on the Septic tank..."
"Tristan's First Dual Carriageway!: A black-spot area was identified on the road out to
the Patches — the answer has been to build a short dual carriageway area leading the
increasing number of cars separately away from the danger area. Again, due to the increase
in traffic flow (both private and island equipment) several other danger areas were identified
and "sleeping policemen" [speed bumps] have been built and safety barriers installed,
particularly where children may be in danger."
"A New Hat For Hadmin!: There was a serious danger of the Hadmin being washed
away, and several key offices were flooded badly during one of the wettest periods for many
years. So it was decided to re-roof the Admin. building before further destruction occured.
Fortunately, a couple of dry days allowed the reroofing to be completed in record time — in
the nick of time, as since then, the roof has been well and truly tested!"
"Island Store — 'Canteen': I am sure Christopher Beadle of BESO who came to the
Island last year to advise on some organisational revamping of the store will be pleased to
hear that two new display cabinet fridges have been installed, which have prolonged the life
of our last order of fruit as well as improving the display of the chilled goods — and a space
to chill our cool drinks for those hot summer days. A large freezer room using
environmentally-friendly gas has also just been built with a capacity of 3557cu ft..."
"Welcome Back!: Samantha Green, Leon Glass, and Warren Glass returned from their
two years of education overseas. Samantha and Warren studied their GCSEs in St. Helena,
and Leon was accepted at Denstone College in the UK. Samantha is now Cashier in the
Treasury Department, Warren is appointed to Natural Resources Department, and Leon is
Information Technology Adviser."
"We would like to offer congratulations to the young people who left the island last
year: Shirley Swain achieved a high award for her Arts Course; Hazel Swain has done very
well as a Dental Nurse, and is now training to become a Dental Technician; Melanie Glass
has a full-time job in a Bank, and has undertaken many training courses; Geraldine Rogers
has had several promotions within the Catering Trade, and her brother Gerald accepted into
the Queen's Own Regiment of the British Army. Our congratulations to him on being
awarded a medal for excellence at his Passing Out Ceremony. And it is with great pleasure
that we hear of the wedding of Karen Lavarello in Switzerland. She will be going to the
United States with her husband Daniel Schreier, who has taken a research post for two
years at a University in South Carolina."
"Education and Appreciation: The Administration have negotiated an enhanced and
more flexible training package with the Department for International Development, which
allows for two people to have a 12 month training period or two people to have 6 months.
The first two people to take advantage under the new arrangement are Allan and Marlene
Swain. Marlene will be taking further teacher's training, a priority of the scheme. Allan's
further training is in satellite communications, radio programming, and computer
technology. Leon Glass also undertook courses for two months (funded by the Tristan
Government) in computer technology whilst in Cape Town returning from his two years at
school in the UK at Denstone College."
"Island Training: Inspector Conrad Glass spent 4 weeks teaching cycling proficiency
to the school children. This has become a priority due to the increased number of vehicles
on the island."
"Late Extra!: We are very grateful for the thoughtful offer made recently by Ovenstone
to divert one of their fishing vessels to assist with a possible emergency medical evacuation
of an islander. This is a further indication of the very close cooperation that exists between
the Company and the Island."
"Pensioners' Annual Dinner: There are two events a year especially for Pensioners —
a dinner during the Christmas period and a winter tea. Each occasion requires two separate
parties due to the number of Pensioners on Tristan (over 60 in total). Some entertainment is
planned each year, and this year the School choir kindly agreed to perform for the dinner
parties. Marlene, the headmistress, led with her keyboard, and the children sang
beautifully."
"Sports Equipment: To encourage more recreational exercise for the benefit of the
long-term health of the island and the reduction of the medical budget (!) new cricket and
football equipment has been bought. As the winter has been so wet and wild, it has been
difficult to start using this equipment seriously. The Youth Club has been using the cricket
gear for indoor cricket in the Prince Philip Hall, and managed to play one outdoor game on a
fine day. It is hoped to start Sunday football and cricket games so that we can improve our
record when challenging the visiting naval vessels!"
"The Dawn of the Year 2000 on Tristan da Cunha: New Years's Eve 1999 and New
Year's Day 2000 were celebrated with all due pomp and circumstance on our dear island.
Jimmy and Felicity Glass again excelled themselves by organising a great party at St. Mary's
School. Even the weather was perfect: a beautifully clear evening with a soft cool breeze
blowing seaward from the braai-fires on the tennis court. Great food, plenty of liquid
refreshment, a great speech by Jimmy in which he outlined the achievements of the 20th
century on Tristan and the expected greater achievements of future years; and a great spirit
amongst all present resulted in a most memorable evening. The church bells rang the new
century in and a magnificent fireworks display on American Field put the cherries on the
top. Warm thanks to Bryan Baldwin [the current Administrator] and Ovenstone [the fishing
company] for the supply of the colourful spectacle. Footnote: Tristan da Cunha enjoyed the
minor distinction of being the first inhabited land West of the 0-degree meridian to greet the
new century."
"St. Joseph's News: Father Richard Obenhauser arrived on the Edinburgh on the 8th
Sept. 1999. He was, as he said, one of 26 "passengers" — the others being a pig and two
dozen hens. Father Richard comes from Austria, from a region known as the Tyrol, and is
the son of a farmer. During his time on the island, he fitted in very well with the life of the
community as a whole and was beloved by all at St. Joseph's. Father Richard left on the
Edinburgh in February to return to his home, and we wish him every success in his work
there."
A full page is devoted to Shipping News (mostly concerning the Kelso and the
Edinburgh, though also covering the SA Agulhas and other vessels). As well, there is a
section on "Visiting Ships And Yachts."
A full page is devoted to Anglican "Church of Saint Mary the Virgin" News.
A report on "The Last Visitors of the 20th Century", detailing the visit of the Royal
Navy Ship HMS Grey Rover (in which everything from a braai/BBQ to a golf game was
organized for the visitors).
A story about fishing: "A Japanese long-line fishing vessel (Showa Maru) called in
August to collect a fishing license for long-line fishing, and Norman Glass was taken aboard
as Observer. The vessel left after 3 days, maintaining that it could not fish effectively, as the
water was not suitable for their targeted species of fish. Norman reported that their fishing
practices were not in accordance with the license conditions, and a number of albatross
were hooked on the lines. A report has been made to London with a request for action with
the Japanese authorities in Tokyo, and a number of other measures to safeguard albatross
are being actively considered with the Environmental Department of the Foreign and
Commonwealth Office in London. The various species of albatross are protected birds, and
the Tristan islands are a significant breeding area for them. We are therefore taking
seriously any threat to them by fishing vessels.
Ratting Day 2000: The first Ratting Day in the year 2000 was a much looked-forward
to event. This is when the islanders split up into several teams named after areas around
the potato patches. Each team splits up into two groups. One group takes the dogs (which
are trained to hunt out the rats) and hunts them around the hillside and amongst the
stones. The second group hunts around the patches in the area of their team name. The
teams cut the tails of the captured mice, with prizes for the longest tail and the most tails
(the most tails are judged by the total number of tails in the group divided by the total
number of people in that group, giving you a total number of tails per man — thus if you
have a small group you are at a slight advantage because your grand total need not be so
high). The results were as follows: third place was Below the Hill with 12 group members
and an average of 26. Second place was Redbody Hill with 3 group members and an average
of 37. And in this year's first place was Daily's Hill with 4 group members and an average of
67. The prize for the longest tail went to the Twitty Patch, with a length of 28.4cm.
Jan. 26: RMS [Gough Island]
I had set my alarm for 7:00am this morning, but was up at 5:30am when Willie woke
up. The cabin still smelled of cigarettes from him smoking in it while I was away, and even
the towels for the shower had a tobacco smell. As Willie left the cabin at 5:30am, I went to
take an early shower, going outside afterwards at 5:50am — and while I was talking to one
of the Saint lookouts (who mentioned he wanted to visit the "Big Apple" someday), Willie
came out looking for me at 6:10am wearing only shorts, yelling "open the door!" — he had
left his key in the cabin, and was angry that I had locked the door (as we both would always
do). Saying he had just gone to the bathroom, he must have actually gone there to smoke,
for he was away for at least 20 minutes before I left. After going down with him to open the
door, I returned back outside to continue looking for Gough Island — which was supposed
to be very close, though with the clouds and mist this morning, it would be impossible to see
for a while. However one nice sight was a group of penguins swimming off the side of the
ship, looking like salmon as they'd jump in and out of the water.
After a while other people began to come upstairs hoping for a glimpse of Gough —
but visibility remained poor, and even though the bridge staff said the island was now only
7-8 miles away, nothing could be seen through the fog. Though Gough is British, its only
human inhabitants are the people staying at its one compound — a South African weather
station, for which the South African Government pays the British Government £1 each year.
The complex is located on top of a cliff, and is comprised of a large white building and a few
smaller structures. Often the SA Agulhas research ship is used to ferry people to the
island... in good weather a chopper is used (the ship has a heliport), but in bad weather a
crane becomes the normal mode of getting people up to the station, (in a cage — though it's
somewhat dangerous, as due to the cliff, the crane operator's view is severely impared).
The Captain (now on the bridge) tried to reach the station on the radio (channel 16),
but had no luck. With nothing much happening yet, I went down to the sun lounge for a
yoghurt and a cup of hot chocolate (nice in this weather), though was soon back outside the
bridge to see a faint black outline of land through the mist. There had still been no reply on
the radio, so almost as a joke I suggested to the 1st mate that we blow the horn — but as we
arrived closer, the Captain decided to do just that, blowing the ship's horn first at 8:00am,
then again a few minutes later.
After the horn was blown, we finally received a reply on the radio... it was Derek, one
of the South Africans at the station. Though we had woken him up, Derek was quite
friendly, and talked to the Captain for a bit, apologizing for not answering earlier. When the
Captain made a joke about the bad weather, Derek said they were glad for it — as since it
hadn't rained in a while, the rivers had dried and they haven't had any water for quite some
time. Currently, there were 10 people staying at the station (5 men and 5 women): a usual
team of 6, as well as 4 visiting scientists (most were South African, but there was also 1
American and 1 Brit — to which the Captain made a joke about the Brit being upstanding)...
they had been on the island for 8 months, and had 5 more left to go until returning to
civilization. Outside, we could now see 4 people who had come out to wave hello (though it
was too far to see their faces, some still appeared to be in their pajamas) — we had obviously
woken them up, but they nonetheless seemed happy to see us.
The Captain called for the Governor to come to the bridge (as the representative of
the British Government), and a few minutes later he addressed the team on the radio
(slipping up once by saying "your island" to the South African, before correcting it to "our
island").
After saying goodbye at 9:20am we then began to sail around Gough... and during
the next hour as the fog began to dissipate and the sun came out, we could all see just how
green an island Gough really is. Full of valleys and rolling green hills, it was absolutely
beautiful (perhaps it's a good thing there aren't any other people there). The island is a
haven for birds, and though we were too far to see them without the use of binoculars, a few
came out to greet us, resting on various parts of the ship. While sailing alongside of Gough,
we passed a small island out in the water (just a large chunk of rock really) — and on it was
a stone formation resembling a human face, complete with eyes and ears. Finally ready to
leave, Graham, Liz, and myself talked for a while on the upper deck until Gough slowly
faded away into the distance (with another school of dolphins swimming nearby). Though
this was supposed to be the "roaring 40s" (traditionally rough seas), the water today was
smooth, glassy, and almost dull (according to the GPS monitor on the bridge we were doing
15+ knots)... in the end, the roughest seas encountered was on the voyage from St. Helena
back to Cape Town.
Going downstairs I met and spoke with Donald (the doctor leaving Tristan) and his
wife Maggie for a bit... they were both extremely nice, and mentioned they'd be moving to
Tasmania soon. I then went downstairs so Nigel could tear off the "return" portion of my
ticket and collect the £6/US$9 fee for the Base walk from me.
Going down to the galley for lunch (hungry, as I had skipped breakfast), I heard at
the noon announcement that barring any unforseen problems, we would be arriving into
Cape Town a day early (on the 30th instead of the 31st) — meaning I'd now have a free day
in Cape Town before my flight out on the 1st (though anybody who wanted to stay on the
ship for the 31st could do so if they wished). Helping us make good time was the unusually
calm seas, and in the end we'd not only arrive on Tuesday instead of Wednesday, but early
enough on Tuesday for the Captain to sail down the False Bay side of the Cape Peninsula
before docking. Using the satellite phone for real today, I quickly called Malaysian Airlines
in Cape Town to ask if they offered a flight back to Malaysia on the 31st — but the flight is
only offered on Sundays and Thursdays (not pressing the "#" key on the phone until a live
operator answered helped conserve some of the credits, but for the few seconds I did talk,
the £8/US$12 25-unit card ticked down to 21 units).
After making my call I went up to the children's room to watch a bit of "Oliver & Co."
on the 13" TV (noticing yet again the annoying fact that when American movies are
converted to the PAL video system, the pitch gets raised by a 1/2 step). I then spent a good
part of the afternoon talking with Graham, Callin, and Mike (a nice older South African gent)
about things to do in Cape Town for the free day I'd now have (as between this year and last,
I had pretty much seen everything around the city).
For the next few nights there was a series of trivia games played at 6:00pm, with the
overall winning team being whichever one won the most nights. Susan, Graham, Mike,
myself, and a few others formed a team we called the "Lions", but as would most often be
the case, our team came in second tonight (this time to the team with the 747 pilot).
For dinner, the appetizer was calamari, shrimp, and rice — and skipping the main
course entirely, I ordered three before going straight for the sorbet. Over dinner, one of the
other people at the table asked Carol how she felt about Tristan, and her reply was that she
had been away from the island too long: "I've seen the big city... I've lived too long in the
UK." To her Tristan will always mean family and the place where she's from, but she has no
desire to return there for good now.
After dinner I went up to the bridge to look out and talk with Jolene again... when I
asked "what do you dislike about St. Helena?" she had to stop and think for a while,
commenting that she's never been asked that question before. Finally she replied "I really
can't think of anything I dislike about it"... so I then asked "would you like to live there or in
the UK?" Her reply was "well, if I hadn't gone to the UK, I wouldn't have met my boyfriend...
so that's good... but I'd like to live on St. Helena."
Tonight's activity was casino games, but while waiting for it to begin, I tried my luck
at the slot machine (10p a spin), quickly losing £1. However I then took £1/US$1.50 to play
blackjack (with the Governor and a few others joining me at the table), and after an hour
and a half of fun and conversation, not only kept my £1, but won back the £1 I had lost on
the slot machine. Breaking even, I decided to call it a night, especially as the clocks would
soon be moved forward an hour.
Jan. 27: RMS [Cricket]
Up at 6:00am today because of Willie, I went up to the exercise room for 20 minutes,
exchanging the towels (which still smelled of cigarette smoke) for fresh ones from the
exercise room. After breakfast (served by Jackie, the waitress for the table I normally ate
breakfast and lunch at), I went upstairs to re-pack, throwing some items away and giving
others to Nigel (in case anyone else might need them). Calling my dad for a few seconds
from the satellite phone, I also picked up a photocopy of the 1960s National Geographic
article on Tristan to read.
At 10:00am I went to watch Warham's lecture on St. Helena history (nice, but I had
seen just about everything he talked about already)... and at 11:00am it was time for cricket
(played out on the sun deck by the pool with a normal bat and the same rope balls used for
skittles). Over the past two years I've asked people to explain the game of cricket to me on
numerous occasions, but have never once understood their response (probably because
people have tried to explain it using cricket jargon — but if you don't know what a wicket is,
how can you understand the explanation?) Memories of me asking everyone from Kevin and
Cel to some white store clerks in Outjo Namibia came back, as I once again asked people the
general outline of the game only to be bombarded with a plethora of unknown cricket
terminology. Finally asking the Governor for help (telling him I was a cricket-stupid
American), he was the first person able to explain the game to me in a way I could actually
understand... so I had my first shot at playing ship's cricket today (obviously a bit different
from real cricket — we couldn't exactly keep it going for 5 days, you know). Having never
even held a cricket bat before, I asked the Governor to take a picture of me... but the bowler
hit the wicket before the Governor even had a chance to take my picture. He was able to
score because I had been standing in the wrong place though, so the Captain said "ah, he's
American... give him another chance" — and after being told where best to stand, managed
to deflect the rope ball and hit it quite a few times, scoring 11 points (not bad for a first-
timer). The game pitted officers against passengers, and though we put up a valiant effort,
the officers wound up winning 125-106. I certainly had a lot of fun though, and now have
at least a general understanding of the game.
As I was sitting down at an outside table after lunch jotting down some notes, the
Captain (sitting with his wife at another table) said "good hitting!" — so I went up and
thanked him for the second chance. Asking him about the new arrival time at Cape Town
(as everyone seemed to have heard a different rumor), he said he hoped we'd be docked by
6:00pm, and finished with customs by 8:00pm if everything went according to plan.
I then went into the children's room to watch the "Ruthless People" video I had
borrowed from Nigel some time ago, but just as I was about to start, Tanya and Andre
walked in carrying the video of "Gone in 60 Seconds" (the re-make). As I had missed the
screenings of it on the ship, we all sat down to watch it — though it was a pretty
disappointing waste of two hours.
After the video I went back to the satellite phone to call Kritz and ask if it would be
alright to come a day earlier (he said it was fine — and to just give a call when I arrived).
Though I had used the card only for extremely short snippits, it was nevertheless down to
only 8 credits by now, and would be finished by the time we docked. As well, the phone
didn't always work properly: while trying to use it earlier, the pause between dialing
sequences wasn't long enough, and the second half of the automatic sequence began before
the dial tone had a chance to come on. Telling Geoff about the problem, he said he'd have
someone take a look at it (though before hearing back from him I was able to place my call
successfully).
While in the loo on C-deck, I heard a faint "bing-bong" (the tones which usually
preceed an announcement) — but with there being no speaker in the loo, it was impossible
for me to hear the subsequent announcement. A bit later Udo mentioned a page for me,
asking if it was anything important. Not knowing what he was talking about, Udo continued
"yes, didn't you hear? They paged you a while ago." Walking into see Geoff, he told me that
a tech had looked at the phone and it should be working now. Thanking him (though I had
already placed my call), I told Geoff that I had been in the C-deck bathroom earlier, and
could only faintly hear the warning tones — but not the announcement which followed.
Commenting that this could be a safety problem (as you wouldn't be able to hear alarm bells
in the loo either), he said "my, I'll have to have a word with someone about that." The lack of
a speaker in the loo is indeed a safety problem, for it's a frequently-used area of the ship
where you cannot hear any announcements or alarms... but knowing Curnow, my bet is
that nothing has changed.
In the late afternoon I walked out onto the back deck to watch a graceful wandering
albatross as I talked to Udo about everything from Tristan to middle-east politics. At
6:00pm it was time for the second night of the quiz, with our team once again coming in
second (by just 1 point).
After dinner I went up to talk with Jolene again (as she would pull two 4-hour shifts,
including the 8pm-midnight one), and a bit later her cousin Richard came by to do his last
hour of steering. Jolene must have been thinking about what I had asked her last night, for
as Richard took the wheel, she posed my question to him, asking what he didn't like about
St. Helena... his reply was things such as high taxes and the government system — but not
the lifestyle. Jolene then mentioned that she had bought a house in Scotland, but as a
Saint without full citizenship, her partner in buying the house had to be British — and if
she quits her job to move to the UK, she'll only be allowed to stay for 6 months.
After a while I went back to the children's room to watch a bit of "Ruthless People"
before watching horse racing at 9:30pm. Being pretty bored with it though, I retured to
watch more of the movie when John (the botanist) came in... as he had never seen the movie
before, I offered to start it from the beginning again, and he enjoyed it quite a bit.
As it was common for me to return to the cabin later than Willie, out of courtesy I'd
make it a habit to take my toothbrush and toiletries bag with me (in my small black day
pack) so I wouldn't have to wake him up getting them out of the cabin. As a matter of habit
though (even during the day), I always carried the black zip-off daypack around with me,
and the sight of it hung over my shoulder was so common that everyone on both voyages
kept asking why I always carried it with me ("what do you HAVE in there?") The truth is I
was just used to carrying a daypack around, and it was much more convenient to have my
camera, book, and other items with me rather than having to do down to C-deck all the time
to fetch them.
Jan. 28: RMS
Up a bit later today, the exercise room was busy when I arrived, and I had to wait 20
minutes for the exercise cycle. Today's weather was somewhat rougher — not as bad as
returning from St. Helena, but the smooth, glassy waves were gone. While speaking with
Jolene last night I had joked that the water was too smooth, suggesting she should shake
the ship up a bit — and on the bridge this morning after breakfast I thanked her for
obliging. As we were now going slower, I asked if we'd still be able to arrive by Tuesday
evening — but her response was that they're now so far ahead of schedule, they've slowed
down on purpose to avoid arriving too early!
There wasn't too much going on around the ship today... being Sunday there was a
church service, but I didn't bother to attend. At 11:00am Warham gave a slide presentation
on the history of the Boer War and St. Helena, and some of the information was quite
interesting: more than 6,000 Boer prisoners were exiled to St. Helena, being watched over by
1,000 British soldiers... the Consulate Hotel is actually the old American Consulate... the
large St. James Church in Jamestown once had a steeple, but has not had one since 1980...
the first Cape Town - UK telegraph cable came through St. Helena in 1899... the main Boer
camp was on Deadwood Plain... only 2 prisoners managed to escape the island (via a
Russian ship — most others were eventually rescued and brought back, though at least 4
Boers opted to stay on St. Helena, with one of them being Basil George's grandfather)... and
100 years ago, a desalinization plant at Rupert's Bay was used to create drinking water, but
today only its chimney remains.
Sunday lunch was once again curry, and during the meal the waves were so high we
could see them hitting against the galley portholes. Strangely though, by 2:00pm the water
was back to normal.
After watching a bit more of "Oliver & Co.", I went back to the bridge to look for
something to do. Talking with 1st mate Andrew (on duty now), he mentioned he has a flat in
the south of Britain, and his mom now lives in London.
Today as Carol worked the afternoon tea shift, she told me that the crew quarters on
the ship are shared, not private (she bunks with Jackie, but they get along well). When I
asked why the staff doesn't hang out with passengers so much, she said they usually won't
unless they're invited — but that they're also usually pretty tired by the end of the day (with
most not being able to eat dinner until 10:30pm-11:00pm).
With the afternoon passing slowly, I decided to take part in the 4:30pm shuffleboard
tournament, managing to make it to the finals, though Graham beat me in the end (still, the
fact that at least one of us "Lions" won did indeed bode well for the evening quiz). While
talking with the Governor in the afternoon, I invited him to join our team for the nightly quiz
(as he hadn't been taking part in it), and he said he'd give it a shot. Turning to other
subjects, when I asked about the tiff between Captain Roberts and the Royal Cape Yacht
Club, the Governor mentioned that after he had had lunch with the RCYC, the Captain
boycotted his party the next evening... and turning to politics, the Governor commented that
like any good politician, he relies on a few people with ears to the ground to advise him.
At the 6:00pm quiz, the Governor's presence brought us luck (and an answer or two),
allowing us to take first place for the evening. However with us arriving earlier than
scheduled, the original four nights of quizes was turned into three — so even with our win
tonight, the "Roaring 40s" would take the series, beating the "Lions" by 2-1.
At dinner tonight (and later up on the bridge), I heard about the bombing of the Daily
News, the opposition newspaper in Zimbabwe. Suspected to have been carried out by
Mugabe's forces (as the government had just reacted to some recently-published articles by
threatening to shut the paper down), Liz (along with everyone else) was hoping that Mugabe
would soon be gone.
Up on the bridge at 8:00pm there was a light drizzle outside but not much wind...
and downstairs later, I went into the children's room to watch a video containing 3 short
films on Tristan (shown on board the ship while I was staying on the island).
The evening's entertainment tonight was pub games, but as I was quite tired (not to
mention that we'd be losing yet another hour on the clock at midnight), I decided to use the
ship's private bath for the first time (it's on B-deck — Kevin mentioned it to me while on the
St. Helena sailing, but I don't think anyone even knew it was there)... with BBC on the
speaker, I relaxed in the tub for a good 20 minutes. When finished, I had a quick peek in at
the pub games, but stayed for only 10 minutes before going to sleep at 10:45pm/11:45pm.
Some misc. information: with all my trips up to the bridge, I soon counted the
number of steps on the ship: there are 38 steps from C-deck to the Promenade Deck, and
another 24 more (12+12) from the Promenade Deck up to the bridge level... also, on few
occasions, I left the bridge (and once climbed up to the bridge) by way of the radio room and
crew accomodation quarters — I was given permission once, and it was such an interesting
walk (seeing the officers' area and all the plaques up on the wall), I used the route a few
more times.
Jan. 29: RMS [St. Helena Info / Fancy Dress]
Going up to the exercise room for 20 minutes this morning, it was quiet due to the
lost hour last night. Outside on deck afterwards, it was cloudy with some drizzle, though
not cold.
Tonight would be Fancy Dress night, and though I had skipped it on the St. Helena
sailing, I decided to take part in it tonight. After breakfast I asked Nigel to borrow a tux and
sunglasses, before buying some crepe paper (60p/90c) from Carl at the store. At the
purser's bureau I took my last cash advance from Visa, as well as converting a bit of extra
rand into pounds for the tips I'd leave the staff tomorrow.
At 10:00am Warham gave a lecture on Cape Town history, and though it wasn't quite
as interesting as some of Warham's other talks, passed an hour of the day. 11:00am was 4-
person skittles (myself, the Governor, and two others), though our team lost to another
calling themselves the "Saints and Sinners."
At lunch it was announced that we'd be arriving into Cape Town by 11:00am
tomorrow morning, and would then sail along the False Bay side of the Peninsula.
After lunch I spent some time working on my costume: though I was to dress up as a
rockhopper penguin, I also wanted to do a skit... there's a place on Tristan called "Ridge
Where the Goat Jump Off", and before Fancy Dress started, I was hoping to do a bit of pre-
event performance art, dressing myself up in wool as a goat and "jumping off" something (I
borrowed a Tristan wool cap from Mike and a Tristan wool sweater from Simon, who initially
had considered going as a penguin as well). As for my penguin costume, Nigel managed to
get me a white shirt and tux pants from one of the staff, and by safety-pinning some yellow
crepe paper to my white-and-black hiking hat, I turned into a rockhopper penguin (using
Nigel's yellow-tinted sunglasses to complete the look). To make a pun, I also cut some
brown crepe paper into the shape of potatoes and pinned a few to the sleeves of the white
shirt in order to become "Larry The Rockhopper Penguin And His Potato Patches."
By the afternoon it had become hot and sunny, though many people were inside
either working on their costumes or watching "Tea With Mussolini." Over afternoon tea, I
asked the Governor if I could talk with him a bit more about St. Helena, and as there was
nothing much else to do, he had me pull up a chair. Though I had asked him many
questions about St. Helena a few weeks ago (see Jan. 14), I nevertheless learned some new
things today: Argos (the large company which operates the fish plant at Rupert's Bay) is a
Spanish-UK joint venture — when the RMS heads north to Vigo, it takes the fish from Argos
up to Vigo for the Italian market... most of the islanders on the 3-day work week (for those
on welfare) have jobs connected with public works or roads... the Governor would like to
develop more niche tourism (focusing on Napoleon, endemic species, history, etc.) but the
big problem is access — with it possible to only have about 3,000 visitors a year come to St.
Helena, there's only a 15% occupancy rate on the island, and this isn't much of an incentive
for Saints to enter the tourism sector... the island has a workforce of 2,700 (of which 15%
are unemployed, and 1,300-1,400 work offshore)... besides tourism, one investment idea
being looked at is back-office data processing (answering phones, taking airline reservations,
etc.) — as there's no minimum wage on the island, labor is 1/5th that in Britain, the
workforce is English-speaking (with some good IT skills apparently), and the time zone is the
same as the UK (the only problem is the high cost of telephone calls to-and-from the island
with Cable & Wireless — the Governor mentioned that something would have to be worked
out)... some other interested investors on St. Helena include a brewer interested in setting
up a microbrewry, and a small hotel chain possibly wanting to open up a hotel on the
island.
When talk turned to the airport, the Governor said he feels the British Government is
now serious about an airport for the island — and a cost-comparison study between
building an airport or funding another ship is due to be released next month. If an airport
is built, there would be no need for a new RMS (even for cargo), for while the ship currently
has a monopoly on carrying cargo to-and-from St. Helena, supplies could still reach the
island by awarding the contract to any normal cargo line. The airport option would also
help with island investment: according to the Governor, there are a number of people
interested in investing on St. Helena, but lack of access has been a hinderance (as he put it,
Bill Gates won't take a 5-day voyage to look at a possible site). Also, besides the obvious
medical need for quick transportation off the island, an airport would help to get fish to
overseas markets sooner, and the number of tourists could be controlled with a small
number of flights (perhaps only once or twice a week, not daily). The Governor seemed to
feel that in the end, any possible airport would probably have to be funded by the British
Government, as the Shelco plan won't work because they don't have the money, and the
other plan (for a luxury resort and private airline) isn't as good for St. Helena as having a
normal carrier such as South African Airways serve the island. He also mentioned that in
1991 Shelco was granted a 25-year lease on Prosperous Bay Plain if they built an airport
within 5 years — but as nothing has happened, it was recently revoked.
When I asked what the biggest complaint made by Saints is, he replied "lack of
citizenship", though he thinks full citizenship will come with a second Labor Government.
The island can't go to the UN for help, because they're considered the UK's dependent... flax
on the island is a big problem: you can't just remove it or erosion will take place, but crops
such as coffee take at least 5 years to develop. There was an attempt in the past to replace
the flax with eucalyptus, but the trees required too much water... being quite candid,
Governor Hollamby felt that the Governor has too much power in St. Helena Government,
and would favor trimming some of it away... there's a St. Helena representative in both the
UK and South Africa, but any political issues must usually go through the Governor...
remittances sent back to the island from Saints working overseas help to form a large
underground economy of undeclared income, and when you add barter to the equasion
(anything from pigs to veggies), this underground economy reaches an estimated £3/US$4.5
million. However without this, it would be very hard for many islanders to survive, as the
wages for a public service employee range from only £3,000-£11,000 (US$4,500-US$16,500)
a year — and most private-sector jobs pay a lot less. As overseas remittances come in
though, aid from the UK tends to drop accordingly, and such aid has dropped 16% over the
last 10 years... many Saints work overseas to earn the money to buy a house and car, then
come back to the island to live... the Governor commented that Saints don't always have as
much pride as Tristanians in what they do, and that it's a much more laid-back atmosphere
on St. Helena than on Tristan.
Prince Andrew School now educates until age 18 (raised from 15 as of only last year),
and between the ages of 15-18, students can choose either normal education or vocational
training (brought back last year). After age 18 there are only 2-3 openings a year for
continuing one's education overseas, though if you're training for a job, many companies
will train you themselves... the island has a declining birth rate, and by 2010, 70% of its
population will be over the age of 70... there's no stigma attached to an illegitimate child on
St. Helena... one of the biggest problems on the island is drinking... there is some marijuana
(which is usually caught), though no hard drugs... when ex-pats come to fill certain jobs, the
Governor tries to get them to search for locals to take their place in time: the Chief of Police,
Chief of Education, and Public Health head are all locals now, and next will be the head of
the Agriculture Department (hopefully in the future there will be a local doctor as well, with
the Governor mentioning one bright girl definitely smart enough, who seemed interested).
The Governor told me he's tried to have an open, transparant government: in the
past, the Council has always vetoed the budget, but when he came on board, he invited the
elected Saints to take part in the negotiations with the UK Government alongside him — and
for the first time, the budget was given a "yes" vote by the Council (many Saints I talked to
believed the Council voted "yes" because they knew where their paychecks came from... as
with all politics, reality is in the eye of the beholder). The Governor went onto say that when
he first proposed the Saints work with him, they were happy — until it was made clear they
would share some of the responsibility as well. Still, in the end they were able to work
together and pass a budget... one other change Governor Hollamby made was a
standardizing of club and pub hours (before, a pub would close at 11:00pm and a club at
1:00am, causing a lot of drunk driving as people would drive from a pub to a club — so now
both close at 1:00am).
Governor Hollamby had been extremely nice, and as we were nearing the end of our
sailings together, I made one suggestion to him: spend just a little money to promote St.
Helena in the United States, as though many Brits and South Africans know of the island,
almost no Americans do unless they have a particular interest in the place. The RMS and
its sailings are advertised in the UK, and I suggested that just a small targeted ad in the
New York Times travel section would raise a lot of awareness (after all, there are 275 million
Americans, and many are looking for a "different" type of place to visit — to not advertise St.
Helena in the US is ignoring a huge potential customer base).
At 6:00pm I attended the last of the Captain's cocktail parties, and had a chance to
speak to some of the staff for one last time: Carl would soon be leaving to join the QE2 for a
few months, the Captain mentioned that this was his first time to Gough Island (as it's new
on the RMS' itinerary), and I once again realized what a small world it is when it comes to
Saints, for when Carl talked about a certain Saint living in the US, I asked if it was someone
whom I had corresponded with briefly via email — and sure enough, it was. All the
passengers were saying goodbye to each other and the staff, and I realized my long stay on
board the RMS St. Helena was soon about to end.
Dinner tonight was a candlelight farewell dinner (with no "theme" as there had been
at the end of the St. Helena sailing, though the Tristan crayfish tails more than made up for
that shortcoming). After dinner, I went up to the bridge to look out at the sea: with the sun
having just set, the sky was a mixture of blue and stars, with orange clouds on the horizon.
Lying out on the sun deck for a while, I soon went down to get ready for Fancy Dress.
Bringing my penguin outfit with me, I first dressed up as a sheep — and going
upstairs, told Geoff that I wanted to do a little skit before the start of the event (after which,
I'd then change into a penguin). A lot of people were taking part in the Fancy Dress this
time, and many of the costumes were elaborate and inventive: Don went as "Crocodile Don-
Dee" (complete with hat and fake rifle)... the South African couple went as a Singapore
Airlines captain and stewardess (carrying a sign reading "Tristan da Cunha Flight #1")...
Simon went as Governor Roll-On-By... a group of five ladies (including Susan) went as the
Spice Girls (with an elderly grandmother going as "Old Spice") — but the funniest costume of
the evening was undoubtedly Udo going as a nun (wearing a habit which read "Sister
Inaccessible").
With everyone lined up, Geoff forgot that I wanted to do a skit first, and began the
evening by having the first "contestant" walk out. With it now too late for the skit, I hurridly
put everything down and ran into the bathroom to change into my penguin outfit. As I
didn't have a jacket, Don said he had one in his cabin I could borrow — so I quickly fetched
it, and with the help of the ladies in line, took the potato patches off the shirt and
transferred them onto the jacket. When it was finally my turn, Geoff asked "are you going to
do a skit?" — but telling him no (it was now way too late), I gave up on my "Place Where the
Goat Jump Off" idea and just waddled into the room as "Larry The Rockhopper Penguin And
His Potato Patches."
The Captain pretended to judge us, but of course (as I knew from the previous time)
everyone wins a prize: £5/US$7.50 for use on board the ship. Hot and tired from the fast
change, I used my coupon to get a cold Schweppes Bitter Lemon from the bar (55p),
receiving the difference back in cash.
While everyone was at the bar after Fancy Dress, I went down to the cabin to
change... and Willie was there sleeping instead of enjoying himself up in the lounge with
everyone else. Back upstairs, it was then time for a special presentation of crew hijinks
(something which didn't occur on the St. Helena run). First was a poetry reading by 4
officers (including the Captain), followed by Nigel, Geoff, John, and Peter (the 1st mate) as
ballerina dancers with balloons (extremely funny). Then Nigel and Geoff did a vaudeville
routine, and between all the dancing, an Officer's Chorus of six officers (including the
Captain, Carl, Andrew, and John) sang "If I Were Not Upon the Sea, What Would I Rather
Be." After this stirring finale the doctor leaned over to say "very poignant" — as now that
Curnow's contract for running the RMS will be up for renewal next year, there's the
possibility that some of these people will be unemployed if Curnow doesn't win the bid (sure
enough, a few months later Curnow lost its bid to continue running the ship, and the RMS
is now being handled by Andrew Weir Shipping Ltd. — though hopefully the officers and
crew will retain their jobs with the new management).
Though it was already 11:45pm, it seemed like only 9:00pm — and I didn't wind up
going to sleep until 1:00am.
Jan. 30: RMS / Cape Town (South Africa)
I didn't turn out the light last night until 1:00am, and at 4:00am awoke to the cabin
reeking of smoke... though I didn't see him do it, Willie must have smoked right in bed, as
the smell wasn't just on his breath, it was everywhere. Throughout the entire sailing, Willie
would go to smoke in the C-deck bathrooms instead of the cabin (this would foul the air in
them for hours, and I'd often wind up using the toilets on A-deck or the Promenade Deck to
escape a room full of smoke), but this morning the entire cabin was filled with smoke. Still,
I somehow managed to finally fall back to sleep for an hour and a half before it was time to
wake up.
This morning I gave Colin (our cabin attendant) a £10/US$15 tip, and last night gave
Carol a £10 tip as well, even though she had only been my waitress for the last few days —
for not only was she an excellent waitress (the only one to remember how I liked things), she
had also given me some of her Tristan water, and was a genuinely nice person throughout
all four sailings. This morning when I asked Carol whether the crew would be in danger of
losing their jobs if Curnow lost their RMS contract, she thought not, saying that it would
most likely affect only management — though if she were to lose her job, she'd most likely
return to the UK to work, saying she didn't want to be on board the RMS forever.
When the purser's bureau opened at 9:00am I returned the tux shirt, pants, and
sunglasses to Nigel, changing some of my leftover pounds into rand. Picking up an
immigration card, I was finally given an RMS/Curnow survey to fill out as well: I generally
gave high marks to the staff and other on-board questions (except for the lack of decent
non-smoking areas), but wrote a nice long paragraph on how bad the UK Curnow office had
been. Walking outside to complete the survey, there was a sunny sky above and plenty of
cigarette smoke out on deck.
Up on the bridge, I found out one of the reasons we were returning early was to try to
get the engines fixed, with the plan being to offload part of each engine onto land while in
port. Speaking with Andrew, he mentioned there were 3 other companies besides Curnow
bidding for the St. Helena Line contract... the offers had already been tendered, and the
decision would be made public on March 31, 2001. When I asked what he thought of
Curnow, Andrew said the problem with them was that there were too many people in the
company who had no idea what it was like to be at sea, and everything needed to be
explained to them (an Idiot's Guide to the Sea) — whereas some of the competitors (one of
which he had worked for before) were better qualified. A few months later it was announced
that Curnow had indeed lost the RMS contract to a competitor (Andrew Weir Shipping Ltd.),
and there would be a new management team behind the ship as of August 2001. I can only
say that Curnow brought it upon themselves, and as long as the crew keeps their jobs, I'm
happy to see the contract awarded to someone else.
As we approached the Cape coastline, the Captain came onto the bridge to raise the
local maritime authorities on the radio for permission to sail by the coast. The first person
he spoke to said it was OK with him — but that the Captain would need to radio for
permission from another authority as well (as we were asking to sail as far as Muizenberg,
past the Naval Station in Simonstown). As the other person (another Captain) could only be
reached by landline (not via HF radio), the Captain had his cel phone sent for and soon
received the appropriate permission (as it was granted, Captain Roberts lived up to his
nickname by replying "Good, fine, ticketyboo").
As soon as we were given the go-ahead we began our sail around the Cape Peninsula
that sunny, blue morning, passing Cape Point, Simonstown, Fish Hoek, Kalkbay, and finally
Muizenberg... not wanting to miss the view, I just grabbed a few pizza slices upstairs rather
than going down to the dining saloon for lunch. At 12:50pm we turned around at
Muizenberg to head back, as people's cel phone signals would fade in and out... I borrowed
Don's phone to call a camera shop he recommended (Orms Camera) about a replacement
lens, but they didn't carry anything that old in stock.
After a while the ship became pretty quiet, with most passengers either watching the
movie, packing, or sleeping in their cabins. Arriving into the general harbor area, Jolene
said we couldn't just cut through in a straight line, but had to instead circle around and
enter via the normal shipping lanes. The Captain was now on the bridge again, and with the
help of a small pilot boat, we followed a large container vessel into the harbor. While
standing outside, my trusty faded-blue cap suddenly flew off my head in the wind, and was
no where to be seen (it was probably floating behind the ship)... and entering the main
harbor at 4:56pm, I spotted a Canadian ship with the humorous name of "Canadian Reefer."
At 5:26pm we docked between E and F berths, and a few minutes later South African
Immigration came aboard. As I was close to the front of the line I was cleared early on —
but South African Customs then announced that they wanted to speak to each of us on
board rather than after we disembarked (with Geoff and John saying that Customs had
informed them no passengers were to leave until ALL had been cleared). The fact that
Customs was taking such an interest in this sailing seemed pretty amusing to most of us, as
all but 5 passengers had originated in Cape Town, and Tristan wasn't exactly a place to buy
things. It soon became apparent that we'd be here for a while, for while there were four
Customs officials on board, only one was actually speaking with passengers (with the others
only working when a bag needed to be inspected at random). When it was finally my turn,
the official asked to inspect my bags (currently resting out of sight in the hallway)... so I
walked over with two of the officers and waited as they looked inside. After a quick glance
they cleared me — and when I asked if I could now leave the ship, they answered yes. By
the ship's entry/exitway, I asked a Saint crewman to watch my bags as I ran down to the
cabin for my bottle of Tristan water — only to find the door locked. Having already returned
my keys (and wanting to leave while I still could), I decided to give up on the water, and
headed back to the exit. There, John (one of the officers) saw me ready to leave, and asked
what was going on... when I told him Customs had given me permission to leave, he went up
to ask if there had been a change in the plan — but not wanting to wait around (as I had
already received an official OK), I quickly left the ship.
Back on land at 6:10pm, I didn't see Kritz around anywhere, so I waited in the shade
near some taxis and the Tristan da Cunha kombi, watching the other passengers slowly
depart the ship. Kritz finally arrived at 6:40pm in his gold Honda Prelude, apologizing for
being late (saying he had problems getting in and finding the right berth — as the docks can
indeed be quite confusing).
On the drive back into town we stopped at Gardens Center to make a quick run into
the Pick 'N Pay before it closed at 7:00pm... Kritz picked up some yoghurt, and I bought
some biltong (South African beef jerky) to take home as a souvenir (both Clicks and the
camera store were already closed, though I made a quick stop at the ABSA ATM to withdraw
some rand). As the Pick 'N Pay was out of some items Kritz wanted, we also stopped at the
7-11 where Kritz' friend works on the way back.
Back at the B&B I gave Kritz an unused California T-shirt, a cheap warm jacket, and
my tie — as I'd no longer need these items in hot, humid Malaysia. After stuffing everything
I wouldn't need for the rest of the trip into the RMS duffel (which I then placed inside the
grey duffel for extra durability), I was going to order pizza from Mr. Delivery... but Kritz
offered to take me to the V&A at 8:30pm, so in the end I never did use Mr. Delivery this
year.
At the V&A, I bought some more Fuji film at AudioLens (3 rolls of 36exp for
R71.95/US$9.11 — another store wanted R37.95/US$4.80 for just one roll) and also tried
to find a cap for myself — though the places which sold them were too expensive here (Cape
Union Mart wanted R39-R59, and other shops were asking R49-R80). For dinner, I ordered
two slices of pizza at St. Elmos: their excellent peri-peri chicken slice (R7.95), and their
average steak slice (R8.50), as well as two chocolate milkshakes (R4.90 each). Before
leaving, Kritz showed me the pub which had been the first business to open at the V&A
(before it became a major tourist hub), as well as some finely-crafted wood furniture in
another restaurant.
Back at the B&B the wind was howling outside... as I was writing in my journal, the
neighbor on my side began blasting his radio — though he thankfully turned it off at
11:00pm.
Jan. 31: Cape Town [Simonstown / Boulders]
Waking up at 7:00am this morning it was still a bit windy, but quite pleasant (I put
long pants on but took shorts with me in the daypack). There wasn't a cloud in the sky (not
even over Table Mountain), and after having breakfast at 7:30am, I managed to leave by
8:40am — as today would be quite a full day.
The first thing I did was head for the wholesale district near Corporation Street to
pick up a cap for myself. At the place I've stopped at frequently (now called T-Boss
Clothing), they had souvenir hats for R12/US$1.52, but I picked up a non-souvenir hat for
only R6/US76c — a far cry from the R50-R80 prices being asked at the V&A. Walking back
through town, I went into GAME to check their film prices, but at R27.99 per roll, I decided
to return to the V&A tonight for more film.
Now that I had a hat, what I wanted to do for the rest of the day was take the train
out to the large penguin colony at Boulders Beach (as suggested by Graham and Don on
board the RMS). While I had been through much of the Cape a few times now, I never made
it as far as Boulders (nor did I have the time to explore some of the nearby towns) — so I
thought it would be nice on this beautiful day to take the train there and back. At breakfast
Kritz warned me against using the train (being worried for my safety), but everyone from
young students to elderly white ladies were riding on it, and everything was fine. While the
train travels underground at first, most of the trip is above ground — and for the last 20
minutes, you travel right by the shore. The train only goes as far as Simonstown (where the
Naval Base is located), but from there it's not too far of a walk to get to Boulders.
From GAME I walked into the nearby Cape Town station to purchase tickets, buying
a round-trip ticket for R19/US$2.41 (good on the same day for uninterrupted journeys —
though when I asked the clerk if there was a discount for buying a round-trip ticket, he said
no). As I had a half-hour before it was time for the train to leave, I walked into the
information booth to have the gentlemen behind the counter look up return times.
Afterwards, I called Malaysian Airlines to ask about the Kuala Lumpur -> Penang flight I had
planned to take tomorrow. After hanging up the phone, I went to the bathroom to change
into shorts, putting my slacks in the daypack (where I had with me only some suntan lotion
and a disposable camera).
As the time to board neared, I walked past a guard who didn't even bother asking for
tickets (though you're supposed to have them with you in case someone does check) and
boarded the train. The train used for this run was a little old but still comfortable, with
windows you could raise or lower and doors which sometimes opened automatically (and
sometimes didn't — in which case you'd have to help them along). Each car had a "no
smoking" sticker on a window (which you couldn't see if the window was lowered) — though
even with signs elsewhere in the car, people just ignored the "no smoking" rule and lit up
when they pleased (twice on the way out to Simonstown on a relatively empty train, and
twice on the way back in a crowded train). Before the train left Cape Town, peddlers walked
through the cars selling various items, though on the way back, they were on the train as it
travelled.
Leaving right on time at 10:25am, the train was relatively empty (we were going
against the rush-hour traffic), and a passenger immediately took out his cel phone to begin
a conversation. As the train goes slow and the stations are close to each other, there was a
sign in the car mentioning that as of two days ago, a program had started where certain
trains would be express-only during peak hours, stopping at every other station — though
most trains (including the one I was on) would make every stop, with a travel time of about
70 minutes (we arrived into Simonstown at 11:35am — just 2 minutes late). Though much
of the trip isn't anything out of the ordinary, the last 20 minutes by the turquoise water of
the coast is quite nice.
Arriving into Simonstown, I got off the train and began my walk to Boulders. While
on the RMS, I asked a few different Cape Town natives how far Boulders was from
Simonstown, and received a different answer each time, from "a 15 minute walk" to
"15kms." In actual fact, it's 1.2km from the Simonstown tourist office (which is about a 5-7
minute walk up from the train station).
Simonstown is a nice large pleasant seaside town... the country's main naval base is
located here, and throughout the area you can find mention of "Just Nuisance", a dog from
years back that was named an able seaman for looking after the troops. Stopping in at the
tourist information office to make sure I was headed the right way, the friendly lady there
handed me a xerox map of the city, and recommended that I stop for lunch at the "Salty Sea
Dog" (a small restaurant in the area run by an ex-magistrate of Cape Town) — though I had
already planned to do so, as just the other day Graham had told me not to miss eating
there.
With it still being too early for lunch, I continued onto Boulders, stopping to call the
Seasons View Hotel in Kuala Lumpur (to add Feb. 8th to my current reservation of Feb. 9th).
Along the way, I passed a new kombi with "Rikkis" painted on the side... stopping the driver
to ask if Rikki's offered service out here, he replied that he was only making short shuttle
trips between Simonstown and the nearby areas (for those who didn't want to walk) — but
at least I knew Rikkis was still around and expanding their service.
Arriving at Boulders, I paid the admission charge of R10/US$1.27 (which goes
towards research, conservation, and upkeep of the area). The jackass penguins (now called
"African penguins") congregate right on the beach, and while you're not allowed to go down
onto the sand next to them, there are a series of wooden boardwalks which take you
extremely close (just a few feet away). Today, dozens of penguins were on the beach (many
laying and sitting on eggs)... and while walking around the area, I immediately spotted two
people from the RMS: John and Cecilia, the British botanist and retired flutist from both
sailings. Approaching them, Cecelia recognized me — and as John was taking a picture, I
walked up to do a "give me all your money!" joke (ever calm, John turned around merely to
say "Ah...") The two were being shown around the area by a mutual friend, and we all talked
for a bit before they had to leave for their next destination. I soon left as well, after finding
out from a volunteer that the average lifespan of a penguin is 11-12 years.
Walking back into Simonstown, a car tooted its horn and a man got out right across
the street from the entrance to the Naval Base — it was none other than the husband of the
German couple from the St. Helena sailing. He had recognized me walking down the street
and wanted to say hello (my cap was now different, but otherwise I had on familiar clothes).
Parking the car, he got out, introduced me to his colleague, and mentioned that he was in
town doing business with the Navy. After talking for a few minutes the two had to be on
their way, but it was still quite fun meeting up with 3 fellow RMS passengers all within a few
minutes of each other (and it would happen once more this evening).
Back in town I bought another telephone card at a local store (as I had run out of
change while trying to call the Hotel Nova in Kuala Lumpur to inquire about a possible
reservation) before heading off to the Salty Sea Dog for lunch. A nice little eatery by the
water, the place serves great calamari for either takeaway or sitdown (though as the sitdown
prices were a bit higher, I just ordered takeaway and took it outside onto the nearby pier).
The owner is a retired ex-magistrate of Cape Town, and he's quite an interesting fellow
(Graham had done a story on him and his little restaurant recently, and mentioned that he
seemed happier running the restaurant than being in politics). Though the calamari was
fried (you can't seem to find it any other way in South Africa), it was delicious nonetheless,
served in large, thick strips for a reasonable price.
Being a tourist city (as most of the small towns in the area are), Simonstown has
plenty of touristy shops, but some are actually quite nice. Inside one, I saw a nice ceramic
giraffe for R51/US$6.46 that I was debating whether or not to buy... in the end, I decided
first to look at the other shops in town in case I could find it cheaper — but by the time I
finished, it was almost time for the train to depart (with the next one being 40 minutes
later), and I didn't bother going back (I should have just bought it here, as the same giraffe
was R65 downtown). Walking along the main street, I also took a moment to call Judith and
thank her again for the hospitality she and Russell had shown me.
While on the trip out to Simonstown this morning, I looked carefully at the various
towns while passing them on the train, and decided that with it being such a nice day, I'd
spend the afternoon walking a good part of the way back instead of taking the train.
However as the stretch between Simonstown and Fish Hoek didn't seem that interesting, I
decided to take the train to Fish Hoek, then get out and walk for a while. Though the ticket
mentioned it was good only for an uninterrupted journey, no one looked at or stamped it —
so I hoped to be able to use it again at a later station.
Off at Fish Hoek, a station employee stamped my ticket (uh-oh), but if worse came to
worse and they wouldn't honor it again further down the line, I'd just pay for another ticket.
Looking around town, I stopped at a convenience store to buy a Bitter Lemon, but as I didn't
have much money on me, I didn't buy anything else. I then headed onto Kalkbay, spotting
plenty of homes and buildings with gables (traditional Cape Dutch style — such gables can
be seen all over the Cape Peninsula on buildings both old and new).
In Kalkbay I had a look in at the Brass Bell, a famous restaurant right at the water
that everyone seems to know about. To get to the restaurant you must first enter the train
station and walk under the tracks — and on the way back, a station guard asked to see my
ticket... luckily I had taken a business card from the Brass Bell and just showed him the
card (he let me pass) — but how would he know if someone was telling the truth about
having just come from the restaurant instead of the train? At any rate, the restaurant is
divided into different indoor and outdoor areas (with a bar as well), and was doing good
business even on a weekday afternoon.
After dipping my feet in at the water, I headed back to the main street, passing the
Cafe Matisse where I had eaten with Russell and Juidth a few weeks ago, and all the
touristy antique shops which line the road. Continuing my walk, the next little town was St.
James, a quiet little place without many tourist distractions.
Finally I arrived at Muizenberg, a tourist town famous for its long, sandy beach (with
shallow water and tiny waves breaking multiple times by the shore). Though the beach area
had plenty of tourist amenities, it was quiet this afternoon, with only a few people walking
along the sand. Skipping an internet cafe, I decided to use the phone in the large ShopRite
supermarket to call Kritz and let him know I wouldn't be back until about 6:30pm. When
he found out where I was and what I was doing (walking from town to town), he said "ah,
well you're certainly getting your exercise!"
Deciding to catch the train at the next station, I walked just a bit further to the
nearby False Bay train station — where the guard looked at my ticket (as it was already
punched at Fish Hoek), but seeing the top portion read "Simonstown -> Cape Town", didn't
seem to care about the uninterrupted journey rule, and let me through after stamping it
again. When I asked when the next train would come by, his answer was the typical South
African "just now" — but it actually did come only 3 minutes later, at 3:56pm (and I enjoyed
listening to three high school girls next to me talk about their friends at school amongst
each other while waiting)... by now the cars were much more crowded (about 2/3rds full,
becoming 3/4ths full after a few stops).
Back in Cape Town at 4:35pm, I spent a bit of time looking at any open curio shops I
could find (as many tend to close early). In one, the same ceramic giraffe which was R51 in
Simonstown was R65 — and though I managed to buy it for R60/US$7.59, I still felt ripped
off (the clerk's response was that the other shop must be selling old stock — not true, it was
the same).
When finished with the curio shop, I then walked down to the V&A again (I certainly
did enough walking today!) Almost immediately I heard my name being called: it was
Susan (from the RMS), who spotted me walking by as she sat eating dinner with her
husband and son at an outdoor cafe. Joining them for a few minutes, Susan showed me the
photographs she had just developed (giving me one of myself in the penguin costume), and it
was nice to chat and run into yet another RMS passenger around town.
After saying goodbye to Susan, I went to pick up more film at AudioLens — this time
deciding to call the clerk on the shop's false advertising: at the store, a normal 3-pak of Fuji
36/200 print film was R71.95, but they also had a special 3-pak of the same film with a
"free watch" for R86.95 (how could the watch be "free" if the pak was R15 more?) The sign
advertising the promotion (both outside and inside the shop) clearly said that if you buy a 3-
pak roll of Fuji print film, you'll receive a free watch — so I asked the clerk for my free
watch. Of course he said the free watch came only with the 3-pak which cost R86.95, not
the 3-pak which cost R71.95, even though the only difference between the two packs was
the watch. I calmly showed him the sign, and explained to him that a "free watch" means
you don't pay for it... and since I was buying a 3-pak of film (following the requirment of the
advertisement), I should receive the free watch. Showing me that the 3-pak with the blister-
packed watch rang up at R86.95, the clerk tried his hardest to pretend as if nothing was
fishy... on one level I felt sorry for him, but his insistance that everything was on the up-
and-up made me want to continue. Gently telling him that I know he doesn't make the
rules himself but that it's still false advertising, he finally relented and admitted that yes, it
wasn't very honest. Quite truthfully I didn't care for the watch at all (a big, ugly Casio), but
it was the principal of the matter... if not for the good rate of exchange that Americans enjoy
in South Africa now, many would be annoyed at trying to buy things in the country, as not
only are occurances such as this commonplace, but there is never an official suggested price
marked on anything, meaning it's up to an individual store to sell the item for whatever they
think they can get for it. To be fair, Clicks was having the same misleading promotion
(charging more for the 3-pak with the "free" watch), but it certainly doesn't make it right.
As this was my "last chance" to buy things in South Africa, I had one last look
around at some of the other V&A stores: at the official Ngwenya glass shop I bought a small
giraffe (R36/US$4.56 — it was R60/US$7.59 at other V&A shops), some ostrich biltong at
Clicks (R9.95), and made one last stop at St. Elmos for two peri-peri pizza chicken slices and
a milkshake, relaxing outside in the early evening sun.
At 7:15pm I changed pants in the bathroom for the walk home, and passing the
Telkom Exploratorium (a science exploration place for kids) I thought about having a look —
but with an R10 entrance fee, decided not to help fund the monopoly anymore than I
already had. On my last walk up to the hills from the V&A, I went through the Company
Gardens in the beautiful early evening, as even though it was getting dark, there was still
enough light out to let me feel safe. At the top of the Gardens, I decided to stop at Virtual
Turtle again... besides checking my email, I used an online hotel broker to make a
reservation for myself at the Hotel Nova (Kuala Lumpur) for the end of my trip (there was
nothing wrong with the Seasons View, but I just wanted to try someplace new — and the
Hotel Nova was just a 2 minute walk down the same street from the Seasons View). Online
for 16 minutes, it cost R8/US$1.01.
Walking back up the hill, I stopped at the 7-11 to pick up a few snacks for the plane
tomorrow before finally reaching the B&B. At first I had planned to stop at the Standard
Bank ATM next to the KwikSpar down the road from Kritz to withdraw some rand, but as I
had just enough to pay for the accomodations, decided not to.
Once back at the B&B, Kritz suggested stopping by to see Pete & Naomi at Bridle's
B&B in Oranjezicht (as I had stayed there last year, and Kritz and Pete are good friends).
Surprising them, we dropped by and sat down as they were eating dinner to talk for a while
(they were waiting up for a German couple who would be arriving late). Unfortunately, they
had just been robbed by the same bloke three times on subsequent Tuesdays (luckily no
guests were around at the time)... Pete admitted that the first time it was his own fault (he
had left the door open with the key), but the other times really bugged him, and he was
about to put up more security measures. One thing I found out about Pete which I didn't
know last time was that he speaks fluent Xhosa (as he used to teach in Xhosa schools), but
with the robberies and everything happening around him, he was even more pessimistic
about where South Africa was headed. Pete & Naomi were glad to see me again, and one
part of me really missed their place (their B&B has spectacular views, and the two are
extremely hospitable) — though Kritz and his wife offer a nice place as well.
Back at Kritz' at 10:00pm, I caught up on my journal: I had brought two Japanese
notebooks with me to use as journals, but as of tonight, the first was now full. Carefully
tucking it into the duffel bag that I'd put in an airport storage locker tomorrow, I took out
the second one to start on the plane tomorrow. Making sure everything was packed and
ready to go, I set my alarm for 6:45am and went to sleep.
Feb. 1/2: Johannesburg Airport / Kuala Lumpur (Malaysia) / Penang
Though my alarm was set for 6:45am, I woke up on my own at 6:30am and walked to
the KwikSpar down the road for more souvenir biltong. It was another beautiful day in Cape
Town this morning, though the forecast called for 30% chance of showers tonight.
After breakfast and on the way to the airport, Kritz stopped to show me the other flat
he owns in town... not too far from Gardens Center, it's where his daughter had been living,
but now that she's moved away, he plans on fixing it up and hiring it out for longer-term
self-catering rentals.
At the airport a lot of construction was going on... and after checking in for my flight
to Kuala Lumpur, I tried to buy a ticket for a connecting KL -> Penang flight but was unable
to, as Malaysian Airlines has no ticketing facilities at the airport (only at their downtown
office). I really wanted to buy the ticket now though, as the reservation would expire just
before I was to arrive in Kuala Lumpur, and MAS in the States had told me I'd be able to buy
my ticket here this morning. The agent at the counter suggested I see someone in their
office upstairs... so I asked the young man on the 2F if he could call the Malaysian ticket
office in Kuala Lumpur for me, but was told their phones wouldn't call out overseas. Still,
he kindly sent a Telex to the office in KL informing them that I would definitely buy the
Penang ticket upon my arrival into Kuala Lumpur, and said he'd have a copy of the Telex for
me by the time I boarded the plane.
I then tried to call home to check my messages, but for some reason none of the
telephones at the airport were placing overseas calls correctly (giving a fast busy after just a
few digits). When I asked the lady at a snack shop to change a bill so I could try some of the
coin phones, her surly response was "the bank wouldn't give it to you?" — right under an
airport sign reading "Come A Visitor, Leave A Friend."
At the ABSA ForEx Bank (the only one in the terminal) not only was the rate bad, but
they charged R22 commission — so for the R40 I wanted to exchange it just wasn't worth it
(they also didn't deal with Malaysian ringget). One thing to note though, is that it's very
hard to change rands outside of South Africa, so if you have any rands left, make sure
you've spent them before reaching the airport.
Trying another phone, it worked for calls within South Africa, but not for overseas
ones. Realizing I still had time, I decided to walk over to the domestic terminal... there, the
phones worked for calls to the US (I had my dad call me back), but not to Hong Kong.
Returning to the international terminal, it was finally time to board the flight, and
there to meet me at the boarding gate was the Malaysian Airlines employee from upstairs,
handing me a printout of the Telex he had sent to KL.
The flight today started out in Buenos Aries, and would continue from Cape Town to
Johannesburg before flying onto Kuala Lumpur. During the flight to Johannesburg, an
extremely noisy kid who liked kicking the seat was behind me, and asking one of the flight
attendants if the kid would be continuing onto Kuala Lumpur as well, found out the answer
was yes. Not wanting to have a kid kicking my seat for the next 10 hours, I tried to find an
MAS representative in Johannesburg in order to change my seat — but with no MAS official
around to greet arriving passengers, an airport employee had to let me use a phone to page
one. The MAS agent who showed up was quite understanding, not only moving me to 44A
but volunteering to block out the two seats next to me as well (during the flight a Chinese
guy sat in the aisle seat, but at least the middle seat remained empty, with no bratty kid
behind me).
At the Johannesburg airport I had a look at some of the duty free shops, and there
were actually a few good deals: the electronics store was closing out a top-of-the-line Philips
shaver for R499/US$63.16 (a model which sells for $145 at home)... I was ready to buy it
until I noticed that the AC plug was designed for South African outlets — and the plug input
on the shaver itself was thinner than the older models I had at home, so I wouldn't be able
to use a cord from a previous model. Figuring I'd have to buy a bulky plug converter as well,
I decided against buying the shaver — but perhaps I should have, for when I returned home
I could have just ordered a cord from Norelco for probably $20 (as the shaver was 120-240V
compatible). In the end I managed to find a new one for $89 on Ebay a few weeks later, but
it still would have been better to have bought it in South Africa.
The electronics shop also had something I had never seen before: international
satellite radios which would receive not only local AM/FM signals, but free satellite
broadcasts as well. The company operating the system is called WorldSpace
(http://www.worldspace.com), and two models were available: a large Hitachi portable (KH-
WS1 for R799/US$101.14) and a Sanyo home/luggable unit (DSB-WS1000 for
R650/US$82.28). Wanting to buy one to bring home (as they aren't sold in the US), the only
thing preventing me was their size (even the "portable" unit was pretty large). I thought
pehaps I'd leave it in a storage locker in KL along with my duffel bag, but in the end I
decided against buying one, and saw these radios for sale at only one other place on my trip:
the Mustafa Centre in Singapore. There, I was able to look through some brochures and
find out that the satellites used for the service were being launched one-by-one, and would
cover almost everywhere EXCEPT North America — so if I were to have bought one, it would
have been useless back in the USA.
Walking into the airport branch of "Out Of Africa" (a chain of curio shops with a
location at the V&A as well), I spent some of my rand to buy a souvenir ceramic cup for
R25/US$3.16, realizing if I didn't spend the rand I had left it'd just go to waste. While
talking to the young black saleslady at the shop, I asked how much she makes at her job...
her reply was R12.50/US$1.58 an hour, with a 45 minute lunch break.
At the "Milky Lane" (soft serve ice-cream) counter next to Steers, the sign listed the
available milkshake flavors, with vanilla, chocolate, Milo (chocolate malt), and strawberry all
in the R6.50 catagory... however when the lady rung up my order for a Milo shake (before
actually making it) the register showed R7.95, with her telling me the only R6.50 shakes
were vanilla, chocolate, or strawberry, refusing to honor the advertised price. With it being
blatant false advertising, I walked away and used my remaining rand on two packs of
Mentos at the candy store (though a bit later I discovered another R50 bill I had tucked
away — totally useless once I had left South Africa).
At the Johannesburg airport the telephones worked for overseas calls, and I was able
to call both my machine at home (to change the outgoing announcement) as well as my
sister and brother-in-law in Hong Kong until the card ran out.
The continuation of the flight onto Kuala Lumpur left right on time and actually
arrived a bit early (at 5:55am KL time), though the game controller was broken for the long
10-hour flight — and as the aircraft hadn't been back to KL in a few days, the movies on
board were the same as those offered for December/January. The flight path took us over
Mozambique and Mauritius, but as it was cloudy, I couldn't see much of Mauritius from
above. Though I was able to rest for a few hours I really couldn't sleep, and by the time we
arrived into Kuala Lumpur early in the morning, a long day was just beginning.
Back in Malaysia, I asked the cold, surly staff at the tourist desk for a map and used
an ATM to get some ringget. As none of the telephone cards sold at the airport work outside
KLIA, I didn't waste my money this time, but I still had some Telekom and Time Kontact
cards left over from before.
I next found a left-luggage area to leave my grey duffel bag at (with the T-shirts and
other items I wouldn't need while in Malaysia). The rate for a small locker (more than large
enough for the bag) was RM9/US$2.37 per 24hr period, so I rented it for 8 days
(RM72/US$18.95). As it was hot and humid in Malaysia (landing at 5:55am it was already
86F outside), I changed into shorts before heading off to buy my Penang ticket.
The reservation for my Penang flight was to be held until 7:00am (though the Telex
from Cape Town would hopefully hold it longer) — but as the plane from South Africa had
arrived early, I managed to make it to the ticket counter by 7:00am. After purchasing the
ticket (RM109/US$28.68 — RM104 plus RM5 airport tax), I went over to KFC for a breakfast
of chicken nuggets... the price didn't include tax, but at least I was served a free cup of
water when I asked for one (something McDonald's wouldn't do).
Having a bit of free time, I called up the cheap hotel in Penang I planned to stay at
(the Peking Hotel, RM47/US$12.37 with air-con) to make a reservation for the evening. A
strange quirk with the airport phones is that they actually do give change back —
sometimes. For this call I had RM0.30 credit left from the RM1 coin I put in, and it was
actually returned — but on a later call where I had RM0.90 credit left, it only returned
RM0.40.
I went to McDonald's next to order two Egg McMuffins, but they refused to serve me a
cup of water, saying they didn't have any (in the end, I had to get some from the Chinese
bartender at the "Traveller's Bar").
With some of the shops now open, I went into the bookstore to buy another Time
Kontact card — but upon scratching it off, found some of the numbers barely visible
(between myself and the store manager we were able to make them out, and used a black
pen to write them on the card). Using the card to call my sister in Hong Kong (who had just
returned from Penang), she gave me plenty of ideas on places to see and things to do.
Heading next for the gates, I had a very long walk down to where the Penang flight
would depart from — and I soon noticed how lax security was in Malaysia: as I had no
check-ins, I put my backpack through the security machine but walked my camera (in a
large case) and film bag though without anyone asking to examine them — and the camera
case was large enough to have been anything. After going through security at the gate, I left
to call my sister's brother-in-law in Taiping (as the phones were located outside the gate),
and arranged to meet him over the next few days.
The plane to Penang was a 747 with international passengers, as it would continue
onto Hong Kong (further worrysome with the lax security), and departure was almost an
hour late as the crew waited for some connecting international passengers.
Penang is an island off the northwest coast of peninsular Malaysia, and immediately
off the plane it was hot and humid (a sign mentions that Adelaide Australia is Penang's
sister city... no wonder — they both share the same type of weather). The first thing I
wanted to do was get to the hotel, but the taxis in Penang are known for their refusal to use
meters. Just at the airport though, a taxi coupon system is in effect, and the fare to
Georgetown (the main city on the island) is R23/US$6.05.
Taking the taxi, I was dropped off at the Peking Hotel, a typical cheap Chinese hotel
with attached "fitness centre" (ie, a place with ladies rather than gym equipment — these are
common in the area, though at the Peking there was at least a separate entrance). The hotel
is just a few doors down from the CitiTel (a newer, fancier hotel I had considered staying at),
but as I was on a budget, I figured the Peking would be fine. The first room I looked at had
a lot of street noise due to a window which wouldn't close fully... the second room had a
leaking, dripping toilet... and the third had no air-con — so I wound up going back to the
first room (at least the street noise wasn't too bad, and I did have earplugs). The Chinese
staff at the Peking was quite friendly... when I left to go out (mentioning I had turned the air-
con off), the lady at the desk said it was more than OK to leave the air-con on if I wished
(which I then did) — and also mentioned it wouldn't be a problem for me to leave my luggage
with her for a few hours tomorrow after checkout.
After setting my bags down in the room I went out to walk through the streets of
Georgetown. In the distance was the large Komtar Tower (it's the tallest building on the
island), and I decided to head there first, starting down Jalan Penang (the street of the
Peking Hotel) before turning down some smaller side streets (all throughout the area were
plenty of old, original buildings and lots of Chinese shops).
Besides housing plenty of offices, the Komtar Tower is also the main bus station in
town, and had a large shopping complex. There's an observation area at the top
(RM5/US$1.32) with scratched, tinted windows surrounded by a gift shop, but it
nevertheless affords you a nice view of the city. Especially impressive is looking down at the
Chinese section from above, and seeing just how crowded and close all the small shops and
homes really are.
When finished with the observation floor, I went down to look at some of the shops
below, discovering only part of the complex (I'd find the better shops later on). Disappointed
(though at least it was air-conditioned), I spent the next 15 minutes searching for the tourist
information center — only to find that it was closed for lunch until 2:15pm.
Walking down Jalan Penang again, I passed a small hotel (probably a "fitness centre")
with a great name: the "Ai Goh Hotel" ("I Go Hotel"?), with "Ai" meaning "love" in Chinese.
Also in the area was a huge indoor food market, with people selling fish, eggs, spices, and
various other edibles. Some smaller streets here appear to have been modernized recently
with wide, clean sidewalks and pricey shops, but most still keep their older, grimy charm
(due to the hot sun, most shops have blinds to pull down over their entrances when the sun
hits the storefront).
Besides a large Chinatown, there's also a Little India section of the city (Malaysia has
a large Indian population), and the streets here are lined with stores selling Indian textiles
and videos, while the smell of Indian spices fills the air.
As with the rest of Malaysia, Penang was once occupied by the British, and I soon
found myself in the Colonial District, an area full of buildings displaying traditional British
architecture. Many are in excellent shape and are used as office space (one also houses the
British Council). While walking down the Esplinade (part of the large grassy park by the
water), I noticed a sign still up advertising the Population and Housing Census from July 5-
20 2000... the park has a snack bar, a play area for kids, and plenty of grass — as well as
Ft. Cornwallis, one of the old British forts.
At Ft. Cornwallis, I noticed a sign indicating that due to construction, a temporary
entrance was located on the other side... searching for quite a while, I finally found it, but
decided to keep walking for now and return back to see it later.
To get between Penang and Butterworth (on the mainland), you can either drive
across a new, modern bridge or take the ferry (for both pedestrians and cars). With it being
so hot and humid, I figured a nice cheap way to cool off would be a ferry ride to the
mainland and back, as it's free for pedestrians going from Penang to Butterworth, and costs
only RM0.60/US16c in the other direction. The trip takes about 12 minutes each way (plus
the time it takes for the cars to get on and off at each side), though if you want to go round-
trip, you must exit and re-enter the ferry at Butterworth to pay your RM0.60. The posted
"no smoking" signs (with a fine of RM1,000/US$263) didn't stop a local from lighting up,
and no one (including ferry employees) seemed to care. The area where passengers sit is
covered, but allows a nice breeze to come in... and the ride was indeed a pleasant, cheap
way to cool off.
Once back at the Penang ferry terminal I went to go have a look at some of the nearby
clan piers... these are multiple old wooden piers sticking out into the water, on which
various families have build their homes. They appear to be occupied mostly by Chinese
families, and even though the small wooden homes are built extremely close to each other,
many have a porch or an area for potted plants... every home had a TV antenna, and some
even had a satellite dish as well. Many were adorned with Chinese decorations (red lanterns
by the entrances), and looking down the main "street" of the pier, I realized it would almost
pass for a typical Penang street — just with wooden planks instead of tar. People were
sitting out in front of their homes watching the afternoon go by, talking amongst themselves
or hanging laundry up to dry, and seemed to be content with their lives. Some of the piers
even have small stores on them, and in a house-store, I bought a cold "Fizzi"-brand cola
(with no caffeine).
Georgetown is full of cars and bikes, but most areas have few traffic signals. One car
prolific in Malaysia is a small, locally-produced hatchback named the Perodua "Kancil" (a
bad choice of name in English, though in Malay it means a type of small deer) — and though
Japanese cars are commonplace in the country, many choose to drive Malaysian-made
Peroduas or Protons.
Walking back to Fort Cornwallis, I went in for a look (RM1): inside, construction and
restoration work was going on through March, and there wasn't much to see (it's mostly
interesting as a historical landmark). Along its ramparts are some canons facing the water,
but after spending a few minutes at the Fort, I soon left (noticing a sign across the street
indicating the future site of the Penang Yacht Club).
Strolling through Little India, I stopped at a small internet business on the corner of
Lebuh Penang and Lebuh Cina to check my email — the cheapest place for internet access I
had seen advertised on Penang so far was RM2/US53c an hour, but the place I found (TRX
Internet Cafe) wasn't bad: RM2.50/US66c an hour or RM1.50/US39c for 30 minutes.
Inside and upstairs (with no air-con) I checked my email for a half-hour, wrote to friends,
and verified with the hotel broker that I indeed wanted the room at the Hotel Nova next
week.
Though the Little India area is quite interesting, I began to feel a bit drowsy... so I
returned to the hotel for a brief rest in the air-con room before going back out again at
5:45pm to the Komtar Tower. Along the way, I noticed that white tourists seemed to be
everywhere — more so here than other parts of Malaysia (it seemed there were as many
tourists walking around Penang as there were locals).
On the lower levels of Komtar I found the other large shopping area with the better
stores, but decided to return tomorrow for another look. After ordering an oreo soft-serve
cup at McDonald's, I left to find the food stalls in the area, as it would soon be dinnertime
and I didn't want to stay up late (my sister had given me the location of a food-stall area
when I talked with her earlier). Along the way I passed a camera store, and just for the heck
of it, decided to walk in and see if they might have a replacement lens. Out of sheer luck
they actually did, though it was far from the best I could buy: in stock was a 28-200mm
"Makinon" lens (an off-brand labelled "Lens Made in Japan", but probably assembled in
Hong Kong) which the guy said he'd sell for RM580/US$152.63, giving me a "discount" off
the "marked" price of RM690. As I had left my camera back at the hotel, I told him I'd
return tomorrow with the camera to try it out, and asked him to write the price on his
business card and give me directions to the food-stalls.
Turning down a side street I finally came to the hawker stalls my sister had
recommended: they congregate right by the large Sunway Hotel, but note that all the stalls
here are Chinese. I tried some Chee Cheong Fun (large rice noodles with plum and chili
sauce, RM1.20/US32c for a small — one of my favorite snacks and very similar to the Dug
Poki I had in Korea two years earlier) and Chiou Koay Teow (very good fried noodles with
sprouts, shrimp, and beef — normally RM2.50, but RM3/US79c with egg), before ordering
more Chee Cheong Fun from another vendor. There were also tables selling bootleg VCDs
for RM6/US1.58, and Penang turned out to be the cheapest place in Malaysia to find not
only VCDs but software CD-ROMs was well.
Walking back to the hotel, most of the shops along Jalan Penang were closed already,
though I did find a nice embroidered T-shirt for RM11.90/US$3.13 in a general discount
store (not bad, but I later found the same shirt elsewhere for RM8). I then headed down
Kimberly Street in hopes of finding some Malay food stalls, but even here they were all
Chinese. After buying a doughnut for RM0.60/US16c, I saw a table selling not only VCDs
but DVDs as well: the DVD selection wasn't anywhere near as good as the VCDs, but they
did have Fantasia 2000 on an all-region DVD. Though the lady at the table had a VCD
player and TV, there was no DVD player to demonstrate the disc on — but taking a chance,
I decided to buy it (more as an experiment than anything else) for RM20/US$5.26. When I
asked about lowering the price, the lady said she'd lower it if I bought more discs, but as I
just wanted one to test, didn't bother bargaining further. Upon returning home I tried out
the disc, and it worked fine (I also tested out the region settings, as my player has selectable
regions — and the DVD played no matter which region I set my player to).
When finished on Kimberly Street, I stopped at Yasmeen Restaurant on Jalan Penang
for some squid & egg (RM3/US79c) and spicy lamb rice (RM2.5/US66c). Interestingly,
though the place seemed to be Indian-run, they were serving spicy beef. Stopping finally at
the 7-11 to buy some water and soda, I was back at the hotel by 9:15pm... the end of a long
two days.
Feb. 3: Penang [Penang Hill / Kek Lok See Temple] / Batu Ferringhi
Waking up with the alarm at 7:45am today, I managed to sleep through the leaky
toilet and the noise outside. After a shower, I left my bag with the lady downstairs and went
out.
The first thing I wanted to do this morning was head for Penang Hill and its
funicular. Walking down Jalan Penang, I soon caught Bus 101 in front of the bookstore at
Jalan Penang and Lebuh Chulia... the bus fares are posted on small stickers by the door
(RM0.80/US21c for this one), and change isn't returned. Thankfully the bus was air-
conditioned, though I had to transfer to a special bus (Bus #8, RM0.70/US18c) for the last
stretch up to the funicular station (this second bus actually has a change lady on board).
Both the driver and change lady on Bus #8 were Chinese, and while waiting for it to depart,
the lady asked me where I was from, and how I was enjoying Malaysia.
Though there were a lot of people in line at the funicular station, it wasn't as crowded
today as it can be on weekends or holidays, and the wait wasn't too long (cars depart every
30 minutes). The fare is RM4/US$1.05 return or RM3/US79c each way, though if you have
your own transportation you can also drive to the top. Built in 1922 by the Swiss, the
original tracks are still used, though the original cars were replaced with new ones in 1977.
The up and down trains run symetrically using the same track (except at the point where
they'd otherwise hit each other — here the track briefly splits in two), and the journey to the
top is in two stages, with a half-way station in the middle. Getting out briefly at the station,
I didn't realize it was only the halfway point, and began taking pictures — until I noticed
everyone else lining up for the approaching second car. The upper half has stations along
the way where the car will stop if requested (or if someone is waiting) — though if you wish
to get out at one of these earlier platforms, be sure and tell the conductor beforehand or the
car won't stop (as with the up and down cars operating symetrically, your conductor must
inform his counterpart that a stop will be needed). There were indeed stops requsted this
morning, but mostly by workers at some of the fancy homes nestled in the hills, or by an
occasional hiker. On the way up, I noticed a huge western-style mansion with a large green
lawn, and found out on the way down that it was originally built by a Brit, but is now owned
by a wealthy Chinese family. The area contains some apartment blocks and moderate
homes as well, with access either from the funicular or the road.
Riding the funicular will give you a typical taste of Malaysia: in the crammed cars
many people were coughing without covering their mouths, and while waiting to get onto the
second car, someone stepped on my foot in the mad stampede to get a seat. Still, the 25
minute ride each way (for both halves) was pleasant and well worth doing.
At the top of Penang Hill the temperature is cooler than down below (as it's about
2,000ft above sea level), and there's a nice view of the island and some walks (including a
long 7km trail down to a waterfall). Not having too much time though, I decided just to have
a look around the summit... walking out of the station, I soon came to both a Muslim
mosque and a Hindu temple and tea room, and had a quick peek in at each. There's
accomodation available at the Bellevue Hotel (RM120/US$31.58 a night), and I stopped at
its neighboring Bellevue Bird Aviary (RM2/US53c): though small, it nonetheless had many
interesting birds from not only southeast Asia, but Africa, Australia, and other countries
around the world.
After exploring the top for a while, I tried calling my sister's brother-in-law with a
Time Kontact card from two different phones. Each time though, I received a recording
saying "calls to this number (the Time Kontact access number) aren't allowed"... finally going
back to the station to wait for a car down, I watched a Malay man make grasshoppers out of
palm frongs to sell to the kids for RM1/US26c.
Back at the bottom, I was surprised to see no waiting taxis... but when one finally did
arrive, I asked the driver how much he'd charge to take me to the nearby Kek Lok See
Chinese temple: his first answer was RM10/US$2.63, so I asked "how about
RM5/US$1.31?" — but as his final offer was "for you, RM8/US$2.11", I just decided to wait
for the bus (RM0.70/US18c). When Bus #8 arrived a few minutes later (different driver,
same change lady), the lady told me it'd be another 15 minutes before it departed, so I
hopped out to use the loo and the Telekom Malaysia card phones nearby (which actually
worked). After calling my sister's brother-in-law and arranging to meet him tomorrow, I
called both Singapore and Malaysian Airlines to reconfirm the reservations I had on each for
a flight to Singapore tomorrow evening (as each offered different times).
Getting off the bus near the base of Kek Lok See Temple, I had a look up at the
impressive complex on the hill: though modern, it's one of the largest and nicest Chinese
temples in Malaysia, and definitely worth the trip. One note to fellow travellers: if you want
to buy anything (from water to T-shirts), buy it on the street before you enter the temple
grounds (I picked up two small waters here for RM1/US26c each, and noticed that just a bit
further up they were as high as RM1.90/US50c. Likewise, the same T-shirts which were
RM8/US$2.11 here were RM10/US$2.63 inside — and there were plenty of nice ones as low
as RM5/US$1.32 here as well).
The temple grounds are built on a hill with ascending levels reflecting a mix of
different styles (Chinese, Thai, etc.), and the covered walk up to the grounds has dozens of
stalls selling everything from T-shirts to snacks to children's toys. Though admittance to
part of the temple is free, if you want to visit the pagoda there's a mandatory RM2/US53c
"contribution." It's possible to climb to the top of the pagoda, but not finding the entrance at
first, I turned around to leave — only to look behind me to see other visitors peering out
from the top. Deciding to go back and have another look (having to once more pay the
entrance fee), I finally found the stairway. There are 194 steps (though many are quite small
and it's not a hard climb), and from the top are excellent views of both the rest of the
grounds as well as much of the island itself. Besides the pagoda, the temple also has
various shrine areas and a giant bell you can ring (with a date of 1993 in Chinese).
Walking back when finished, I ignored most of the vendors, but did stop at one to
buy an embroidered T-shirt (originally RM10/US$2.63, though the lady went down to
RM9/US$2.37). Out on the street below though, the T-shirts were even cheaper (without
having to bargain), and I picked up a different one for RM5/US$1.32. As the lady was
handing me the T-shirt, I asked her where the bus stop was: unmarked, it's just down the
street next to a yellow sign reading "Las Junnie Unisex Salon" (there's also a small
unmarked store there as well). There were some students and locals waiting too, but when
the minibus finally came by (RM0.70), it was so crowded that only a few of us could get on.
I was able to board, but had to stand by the open door (almost hanging out of it) until a few
stops later when we were squeezed in even more as someone else took my spot.
Back at Komtar, I discovered the Komtar Bazaar on the 2F (one floor below
McDonalds)... as yesterday was a Friday, many of the shops had been closed, but today
everything was open. A good place for general shopping, this (as well as the large mall
across the street) is also a good place to find bootleg CD-ROMs — and what's surprising is
that they aren't sold on little tables in back alleys, but in clean, brightly-lit, well-advertised
shops whose only purpose is to sell these CD-ROMs. The prices in Penang are much better
than in KL or Batu Ferringhi, with most shops asking RM7/US$1.84 — though when I
picked up 11 at one shop, the employee voluntarily lowered the price to RM6/US$1.58 (and
for the two titles that were slightly more, from RM12/US$3.16 to RM9/US$2.37), for a total
of RM74/US$19.47 for 11 CD-ROM titles — many of which would cost hundreds of dollars a
piece at home. As my computer didn't even have a working CD-ROM drive, I picked them
up just as an experiment, but anything you might need for your Windows or Mac machine is
freely available here. Surprised at how casual and out-in-the-open this all was (I even
received a receipt), my suggestion to the software industry is to forget Hong Kong and
concentrate on Malaysia, for I doubt there is one legitimate software copy sold in the
country.
Besides normal tourist-related stores, the Komtar Bazaar also has a few non-tourist
shops ranging from electrical equpiment suppliers (wires, light switches, etc.) to a stamp-
collector's shop (where I bought 2 keychains for RM1.50/US39c each).
Walking up to the McDonald's level, I saw that the tourist information window was
now open. Unlike the tourist desk at KLIA, this desk was staffed by two Chinese-Malaysians
— and instead of receiving a cold shoulder, I was happily given all the bus information I
needed (on how to get to Batu Ferringhi).
Walking out of Komtar to check out the large 6-story mall across the street, I noticed
that a good percentage of its shops were computer CD-ROM stores as well... walking in
"Virgo Computer", I picked up two more CD-ROMs for RM7/US$1.84 each.
Needing more cash, I walked back into Komtar to use the ATM across from
McDonald's... and as I had skipped breakfast and lunch, ordered my first food all day (a
McDonald's chocolate soft-serve cone).
With it now already after 2:00pm, I left Komtar to re-visit the camera store with the
Makinon lens. While it did indeed work, I could tell that it wasn't a high-quality assembly (it
was almost impossible to fit a filter onto the unit, and the AE-1 Program's light meter only
went to 4 rather than 2.8). Still, the lens I was using was on its last leg (requiring me to
wiggle it into focus each time), so I decided to buy the lens for RM580/US$152.63 (getting
them to throw in two rolls of Fuji Superia 200/36 film for my old Vivitar lens). The Makinon
lens worked for the rest of the trip, but soon became stiff, noisy, and difficult to zoom with
— so upon returning home I decided just to buy another Vivitar 28-210mm lens.
Returning back to the hotel to pick up my backpack, I thanked the lady there for
watching it, and walked all the way back to Komtar in the heat to catch Bus #202 out to
Batu Ferringhi, a nice stretch of beach located a bit out of Georgetown. Though the fare was
RM1.70/US45c, I only had an RM2 coin — but quickly put it in so I could grab a seat before
all were taken (as it's a 30-40 minute trip).
Batu Ferringhi is a popular tourist destination with foreigners and locals alike, so
hotel prices aren't as cheap as elsewhere in Malaysia. Because of this, I pre-booked a room
over the internet for tonight before leaving on my trip, deciding on a large self-catering
apartment complex called "Sri Sayang Resort Service Apartments" (not to be confused with
the "Rasa Sayang" resort across the street). Various internet hotel brokers offered rates
from RM88 to RM138 for the same room, but there's also a RM50 surcharge for Saturday
nights. However a broker in Singapore quoted a rate of RM108/US$28.42 for any day
(including Saturday), so I decided to go with them (otherwise the cheapest would been
RM138/US$36.32 [RM88+RM50]). Though I had given my credit card number to guarantee
the reservation, I was worried that the resort wouldn't honor the quoted price (since it was
obvious the broker had screwed up by forgetting about the RM50 surcharge). Walking into
the lobby, the posted daily rates were RM88 (lower than the RM108 rate from the broker),
and the Indian check-in lady soon asked me for RM138 (RM88+RM50)... when I mentioned
that I had been guaranteed a rate of RM108 even for Saturday, the lady looked up my file,
verified it, and even though it was the broker who screwed up, honored the
RM108/US$28.42 rate.
The ride out to Batu Ferringhi took 40 minutes today by bus, and though I asked the
driver to let me know when it was time to get off, he didn't (luckily I noticed the apartments
and immediately rang the bell for the bus to stop). The large white 32-story Sri Sayang
Resort Apartment building is pretty much the first accomodation in the area (on the left),
though it's also quite close to the hotels. Asking for a room on a higher floor while checking
in, I was first given 1605 — though the air-con unit was busted and the card-lock was
broken — so I went back to ask for another room, and was given 1604: large and spacious,
it had a nice main room (with a balcony overlooking the street/ocean), two bedrooms, two
bathrooms (one with a bath/shower), air-con, fan, a kitchen with a fridge, and other
amenities — and reminded me of my stay at Les Cases Fleuries in Mauritius (another self-
catering flat, though on a much smaller scale).
Setting my bags down at 5:22pm, I changed into swim trunks and went down to the
lobby to drop some vaulables off in a safe deposit box. Though guests are usually supposed
to keep their own key, I decided to ask the check-in lady if she wouldn't mind holding it for
just an hour or so while I went swimming (she kindly agreed). Crossing the street, I wound
up walking through the lobby and grounds of the fancy Rasa Sayang resort to get to the
beachfront (as with the similar name, I at first thought they were owned by the same people
— but this isn't the case).
At the beach by the Rasa Sayang resort is a large area just for swimming (roped off so
as not to interfere with jet skis, parasailing, and other activities) — and I was surprised to
see no one else in the water. It was 5:30pm but still quite warm even with the clouds...
going in, I enjoyed the wonderfully warm water for 45 minutes, relaxing and swimming out
to the deep section while watching one of the local parasail operators take clients up for a
ride. After a while I decided to ask how much a ride was... the man replied "usually
RM75/US$19.74, but if you don't tell anyone, RM50/US$13.16" (there was a parasail-
booking desk on the hotel grounds, and I can only assume the hotel takes a large cut of the
fare). As I've parasailed enough before, it wasn't something I had to do, but thought it might
be pleasant nonetheless. Though ready to stop for the day, the guy said he'd fit me in —
and when I said I'd have to first go to my room to get the money to pay him, he replied
"that's ok, I trust you, do it later" (though he thought I was staying at the Rasa Sayang
resort, and when I then mentioned I was staying across the street, he seemed a bit more
apprehensive). Still, he was ready to go ahead with it until his parnter (operating the boat)
came by to talk about the weather conditions. A minute later, he told me that the wind was
now coming from offshore, and it wasn't safe to go out anymore... asking if I'd like to do it
tomorrow morning instead, he vowed to still honor the RM50 rate. Telling him I'd be leaving
early in the morning, I was disappointed, but his reply was "as much as I'd like to earn the
RM50, I have to think about your safety... as you can see, the wind has changed... if you can
come back tomorrow morning I'd be happy to take you for RM50, but we really can't go up
with conditions like this right now." So with that, I went back in the water to swim and
relax, watching as he and his partner packed up for the evening.
Walking back through the Rasa Sayang lobby, I asked one of the employees if the
hotel was owned by the same people who own the Sri Sayang apartments across the street.
Being told no, I felt bad about walking through their lobby in swim trunks — but it's how I
was told to reach the beach by the staff at the Sri Sayang.
Back at Sri Sayang I noticed their swimming pool, and even though I had just come
from the ocean, decided to give it a try, as there was a waterslide off to one side. With water
gushing down a twisting, turning tube, the slide was a bit smaller than something you'd find
at a water park, but was certainly just as nice (no mats required). As the only people in the
pool were a few kids off in the shallow end, I immediately climbed the stairs to use the slide
nonstop for the next half-hour... I lost count of how many times I went on the thing, but it
sure was a lot of fun (especially trying it in different directions... forward, backward, sitting
up, lying down, etc).
Finally finished with water, I collected the safe deposit key (and my wallet) before
going back up to the room to change. Batu Ferringhi has a large night market, and I wanted
to spend the evening exploring the area (the Sri Sayang Apartments are situated at one end
of town, and I spent the next few hours walking through town towards the other end). There
was an occasional light drizzle, but I didn't even go back to get the umbrella, as it was still
quite warm and pleasant.
I soon passed a seafood restaurant with specimens of all types on display in the lobby
(which you can order), including crayfish (RM18/100gms), goby fish (RM18/100gms), a
large morra eel (RM17/100gms), and a huge estuary garoupa (RM26/100gms). Though
there are more restaurants than hawker stalls here, there are still plenty of stalls around,
and in one area they all share a large covered eating space where you can sit and relax (and
order drinks if you wish). Stopping at an Indian-run stall, I ordered a chicken murtabak
(pancake) for RM2.50/US66c... it was really good, and I would have ordered another had I
not wanted to save my appetite for other things. I next tried some "satay on a stick" (good,
but a total ripoff at RM4.50/US$1.18 for 6 tiny pieces of chicken or beef), and while waiting
for it to be cooked, had a look in at the small market next door. With Batu Ferringhi being a
tourist area, stores here were more expensive than elsewhere on the island... for example,
one store was asking RM1.80 for a can of Bitter Lemon soda (I didn't buy it, and soon found
another store charging "only" RM1.40), and the internet connections here are a rip-off by
Malaysian standards (one sign touted "INTERNET: RM4" in big letters — but only in small
print did it say "per 1/2 hour" — this is double what the rates are elsewhere).
At 7:30pm the sound of prayers blasting from loudspeakers could be heard, and
some of the vendors finally began to set up their tables (much later here than in other
cities). The usual items were for sale: T-shirts, fake watches, CDs, VCDs, CD-ROMs — but
were too expensive (for instance, pirate multi-game GameBoy carts were going for
RM188/US$49.48!) I wound up walking all the way to the other end of the town (stopping
at the halfway point to step into the lobby of the Holiday Inn for a quick peek, as I had
originally considered staying there) — and upon reaching the end, turned around to walk
back. By now it was dark, and all the hawkers were in full swing, with plenty of tourists
interested in the fake watches — but as it started to drizzle more, I headed back to the room
to pick up an umbrella, figuring I'd go out again soon.
Upon reaching my room however, I suddenly fell violently ill, and began to vomit
uncontrollably — no matter how hard I tried to keep it down, I couldn't, and the toilet in the
main bathroom soon became full of vomit. I had no idea what was going on, as I had felt
fine up until that moment and had never vomited with so much force before. After a while, I
finally thought it was over, but 20 minutes later I was vomiting into the sink — and no
matter how hard I tried to stop, I couldn't (by now, it wouldn't even go down the drain, so
the entire bathroom had a horrible smell). Finally sitting down in the main room, I felt
extremely weak and shaky with a horrible aftertaste in my mouth. I wanted to go right to
sleep... going out again was now definitely out of the question, but I stayed awake to write in
my journal and try to figure out what had just happened. Obviously something had been in
the food I ate, but I could only guess at what it was. I first suspected the squid & egg from
last night, but it seemed to me that if this was the case the reaction would have happened
sooner — so in all likelihood it was either the satay or the Indian pancake, but I'll never
know for sure. At any rate, at least the toxins had exited my body with force, and though
weak, I didn't have another relapse (as a precaution I took some Imodium tablets
afterwards, though I don't think they made a difference). The bathroom was now a mess,
and though I cleaned up what I could, the sink would unfortunately be extra work for
housekeeping the next day.
I finally tried to sleep, but as weak and tired as I was, it wasn't easy: first, there was
a Chinese party going on a few floors below, with the noise being heard throughout the
building... and second, my mouth was like a dry cotton ball all night — no matter how much
I filled my stomach up with water, I couldn't get the dryness out of it. To top it off, because I
had the chills, I turned off the air-con — but at 2:45am it was so stuffy in the room that I
had to turn it back on. Though the party noise stopped after midnight, I spent the night in
a daze between being awake and half-asleep, with a dry, parched mouth — and I'd have to
be up at 6:15am.
Feb. 4: Taiping / Singapore (Singapore)
I was so tired this morning it was good that I set multiple alarms on my watch... it
was hard to drag myself out of bed, and I only had 10 minutes in which to get up, gather my
things, and check out of the place. The lobby receptionist had told me yesterday that the
first bus of the day to Georgetown came by at 6:25am, so after checking out, I walked across
the road in the dark, set my things down, and looked for an approaching bus in front of the
Rasa Sayang Resort (as I couldn't find the official bus stop in the dark, I just watched the
oncoming traffic for a bus). At 6:35am a bus came by, but waking up this early turned out
to be all for nothing: the reason I wanted such an early start was so I could catch a 9:00am
bus to Taiping from the Komtar Bus station — but as I later found out, the first bus of the
day to Taiping wouldn't leave until 11:00am. At any rate the bus to Georgetown stopped for
me (RM1.40), and though there were still plenty of seats, I was surprised to see it already
half full so early on a Sunday morning. With little traffic out on the road, the trip only took
30 minutes this morning as the driver propelled the bus as if he were trying to set an all-
time speed record — and though he said he'd let me know when we arrived at Komtar, he
didn't (it was still dark, so it was hard for me to tell where I was). Luckily, as one passenger
rang the bell to stop I heard other passengers mention "Komtar" — and after watching many
of them leave, asked one if we were at Komtar yet. Indeed we were, so I hurridly left myself,
walking the few blocks to the bus station in the dark.
At the tourist information desk the other day I was told there was a 9:00am "Super
Ria" bus to Kamunting/Taiping (Kamunting is the actual bus stop, as Taiping is a bit off the
main highway)... but when I arrived at the station all was quiet, with the ticket offices closed
and only a few people waiting around. A Chinese vendor selling snacks (one of the two food
shops open) invited me to sit down at his table to wait, pointing out a ticket office for Super
Ria and saying they wouldn't open until 7:50am. As he was asking a very expensive
RM2/US53c for a can of "100 Plus" soda (usually RM1.30-RM1.40 elsewhere), I first tried to
get a RM0.70 Coke from the only vending machine in the area — but upon seeing it broken,
I decided to pay the high price, as my mouth was still incredibly dry and "100 Plus" is a
electrolyte replenishment drink (I later ordered a second can as well, figuring that as much
as I hate being ripped off, it was worth the US15c difference in price).
Slowly more people began to arrive, including other tourists. When one of the other
ticket windows opened, I asked the man there if he sold tickets to Taiping/Kamunting — but
was told I'd have to go across the street for a Taiping ticket. Unsure what to do (as the office
which the Chinese vendor pointed out did indeed have a "Super Ria" sign), I decided to wait
for this "Super Ria" window to open at 7:50am — only to be told by the lady there that I'd
indeed need to go across the street for a Taiping/Kamunting ticket. Lugging my bag across
the street just as this other ticket window was opening, I soon found out that there was no
longer a 9:00am bus to Kamunting — and the first bus of the day wouldn't leave until
11:00am. I now wasn't sure what to do... not only was I angry at having woken up so early
for nothing (especially being so weak), but taking such a late bus would give me precious
little time in Taiping — as I'd have to return back to Penang this evening for my flight to
Singapore. Though I had two different plane reservations (7:10pm on Malaysian and
9:10pm on Singapore), I really wanted to take the earlier flight — for if I took the later one, I
wouldn't arrive at the hotel until after midnight (not something I wanted to do with the way I
was feeling).
Without much choice, I bought a ticket for the 11:00am bus (RM7.35/US$1.93)...
since I had a few hours to wait though, I asked the ticket lady if I could leave my heavy
backpack with her (she was nice enough to let me — though I took the camera). At first I
was going to waste the morning looking around the Komtar shops again... but feeling that I
really should find a way to get to Taiping earlier, I decided to ask a few taxi drivers how
much they'd charge to take me to Kamunting (as in Penang none of the taxi drivers use
meters, and you must bargain for your fare — if you're a tourist, forget about paying
anything near what a local would pay). The first taxi wanted RM100/US$26.32 (going down
to RM80/US$21.05), though the next one wanted RM120 (followed by another standing firm
at RM100). Knowing I was being ripped off immensely, I decided to leave the station area,
and soon found myself at the fancy hotel behind Komtar. Inside, I asked the concierge lady
how much a taxi to Taiping/Kamunting should be... she answered "around RM25/US$6.58"
— so I asked if she could flag one down for me herself. However as soon as the taxi driver
saw I was to be the passenger, the lady came back to say the driver was firm in asking
RM120 (I of course declined).
Walking back to the station, I tried to find the first taxi driver who said he'd take me
for RM80, but he was no longer around. Asking another driver, the young guy at first said
RM100 but finally went down to RM80 once I mentioned another driver had agreed to RM80
(though he wouldn't go down any further, saying there's a bridge toll to pay — even though I
noticed it was only a RM3.50 toll each way). Figuring I'd better take it even at a price 3
times more than a local, I asked him to wait while I went to fetch my bag from the ticket
office.
Sitting in the front of the taxi, the driver asked for RM40 up front so he could put
some petrol in the car... a bit hesitant at first, I did give it to him, as it was only half of the
promised RM80. After stopping for petrol we started on our way, and I managed to have an
interesting conversation with the young Malay driver on everything from cars to daily life in
the US (I think it helped when I told him that my sister's brother-in-law was Malaysian and
living in Taiping — though I didn't mention he was Malaysian-Chinese): the driver was
currently studying compters, but was driving a taxi on the side to support his family... as
well as Proton, Perodua is also a Malaysian-made car, and "Kancil" (a popular Perodua
hatchback model) is the Malay name for a type of small animal... the hundreds of palm trees
along the road are palm oil plantations... all over the country, I'd see signs saying "Follow
Me" — but the driver said they were ads for a brand of shampoo... we also talked about the
different prices of everything from cars to homes in both the US and Malaysia, as well as
how to say certain words in Malay. The scenery on the long trip (1hr 15mins by taxi at
110kph) was quite boring, with the only interesting part being the long bridge connecting
Penang with he mainland (toll: RM3.50/US92c).
Arriving at the Kamunting bus station at 9:45am, I gave my sister's brother-in-law
Thomas a call... he was expecting me a bit later, but said it wouldn't be a problem, and
would be by in 10 minutes to pick me up in front of the KFC. About 10 minutes later
Thomas came by in his dad's Proton and took me back to his place, a nice little home in a
residential part of town. Some houses in the area are sold with the land forever, but a
cheaper option is to buy a 99-year lease — something Thomas and his wife did, figuring that
in 99 years they would no longer be around and their children might very well want to live
elsewhere.
Though Thomas is originally from the suburbs of KL, Thomas' wife is from Taiping...
both decided to settle here because of the town's peaceful, slow lifestyle (many would call it
boring, but Thomas said that when you've had it with KL, this is the perfect place to live).
Though Thomas was currently taking a break from work until March, his current job is in
public relations with a private healthcare company — and he mentioned that while the state
does offer medical services, if people can afford it they'll opt for private healthcare and
hospitals, as they tend to be much better than the government-run ones. Thomas was also
about to start his own business — an IT/computer school in the area, saying that while
such schools can be found everywhere in KL, there were hardly any in the Taiping area.
After I dropped off my backpack and told Thomas about getting sick last night, he
asked if I wanted to sleep for a while... but not wanting to waste the day, I said I'd be OK.
Showing Thomas the CD-ROMs I bought in Georgetown, he was interested in the one with
Windows ME (as one he purchased elsewhere included an incorrect serial number) — so as I
checked my email on his laptop, he ran off a copy to try later on. While on hold with
Malaysian Airlines to re-confirm my flight and get and assigned seat, I asked Thomas about
TV in the area: there are 4 off-air channels, but Thomas also subscribes to satellite TV
(about US$20 a month) and has a VCD player as well. A big fan of Babylon 5, Thomas
mentioned it was currently being shown late at night on normal TV... and said radio stations
in the area will play songs in Malay, English, and Chinese.
The name "Taiping" means "peaceful city", though in the late 1800s the area suffered
from waring Chinese triads feuding over tin. Though the city was once just a tin-mining
town, it has now become one of the greenest cities in Malaysia, with the old tin mines now
turned into parks with plenty of trees and reflective lakes (complete with paddle boats). The
government even bought up an old private golf course to turn into a park, and people come
from all over the country to enjoy the city's quiet pace (many newlyweds come to have their
wedding pictures taken in the park or along the tree-lined street which surrounds it). As
peaceful a city as Taiping is though, it houses not only a local army base but the largest
prison in Malaysia — as well as a second prison for political prisoners. Though it's
considered to be one of the rainiest cities in the country, there was nothing but blue in the
sky today (with plenty of heat and humidity).
Going out for a drive around the area, we skipped the nearby hill but spent some
time around the parks and lakes (there's a zoo, but other than stopping for a Pepsi, we
didn't bother with it). Stopping at a CalTex station in town for petrol, I noticed the price was
only the equivalent of US$1.19/US Gallon — and Thomas mentioned that petrol was one of
the many products which the government subsidizes or puts price-controls on in order to
help out its Malay population, though of course it winds up helping everyone (the
government sets limits on how much can be charged for certain items... besides petrol, food
staples such as rice, chicken, and fish are on the list).
The Malay-run government gives ethnic Malays special opportunities and programs
available only to them, from lower bank loan rates to certain civil service jobs (in a
newspaper you'll often see it indicated that a job is available only for an ethnic Malay —
though Thomas commented that most Chinese wouldn't want these public service jobs
anyway). I was surprised to hear Thomas take this blatant discrimination in stride — but
he felt that if such things weren't offered there'd be even more hostility and backlash against
the generally more affluent Chinese and Indian population in the country (such as what
happened in Indonesia not too long ago)... if it helped to keep the peace, he was all for it.
Malay is the country's national language, and Thomas learned it in school (he can
also speak English and Chinese)... when I earlier asked the taxi driver if he had learned any
Chinese (as a large percentage of the country's population is Chinese), he said no. Wearing
shorts as I was, Thomas mentioned that 15 years ago dress wasn't as strict as it has become
today, saying you'd hardly ever see a woman wearing a veil 15 years ago... and while there is
official religious freedom in the country, if non-Muslim kids go to school in shorts they'll
stand out, so most tend to dress as the Muslims do (including full body coverage during PE
on hot, humid days) — though after school and on the streets, most Chinese will wear
shorts and western-style clothing.
Driving around town, Thomas pointed out the different architectural styles in the
area: old tin houses, stately British buildings, Malay-style homes on stilts, and newer, more
western-looking houses (with virtually no grafitti anywhere). The Malay are given their own
land and generally seem happy to stay on it and farm rather than starting an
entrepreneurial business, with the majority of businesses in the country being run by
Chinese or Indian Malaysians. When I asked about all the "Silverstone" billboards I had
seen (as well as a building with a Silverstone sign), Thomas mentioned they were a tire
manufacturer, and had a factory nearby.
Stopping to walk around the downtown area, I saw its appearance was similar to that
of any mid-size Malaysian city, with plenty of storefronts, marketplaces, and food stalls
(decorative red Chinese lanterns were hanging over the streets, leftover no doubt from the
recent Chinese New Years). Stopping in at a small store, I bought a popsicle for myself — it
was the first thing I had all day that made my mouth feel better (I couldn't handle anymore
water or soda), and wound up returning later for another one on the way back. In town I
was able to get a close look at some of the old tin houses which still remain, before spending
some time walking through the covered marketplace (busy on a Sunday, with everything
from French apples to soursops to durians for sale).
After walking a bit more, we went back in the car to drive to Thomas' in-laws so I
could meet his wife and two kids (staying there for the day). With Thomas' older daughter
watching TV (a kid's game show in Malay mimicing a video-game), we talked for a bit before
leaving to visit the local museum. Housed in an old colonial-style building, the museum
(free admission) was quite interesting (if hot — there's no air-con), and contained displays of
everything from Malaysian swords and native garb to exhibits on various wildlife found in
the area.
Returning back to the house at 2:10pm, I decided I'd try to catch the earlier flight to
Singapore tonight, as there wasn't really too much to see in Taiping (though it's a nice city to
live in and spend a relaxing day at). Picking up my bag, we drove to the Kamunting bus
station to see that the only bus back to Georgetown left at 6:00pm (the ticket office lady this
morning told me there were hourly returns at 4:00pm, 5:00pm and 6:00pm). However there
was a 2:30pm bus for Butterworth (just a short ferry hop across from Penang), so I decided
to take that one back. After saying goodbye and thanking Thomas, I boarded the large air-
conditioned bus (RM5/US$1.32), noticing everyone else on board (except for two young
Chinese teenagers) was Malay.
Relaxing and looking out the window at the passing countryside, I thought a bit
about the last few days... because of the recent Chinese New Years, signs and decorations
were still up in most cities wishing people a Happy New Years in romanized Chinese, similar
to the signs wishing people a happy Hari Raya back in December. Malaysia tries to practice
cultural diversity, but with the government's policies favoring Malays and many ethnic
Malays resenting their fellow Chinese and Indian countrymen, one can sense the tension
beneath the surface. Thinking back to my visit to Mauritius last year (which also has a
population split between Chinese, Indian, and "locals"), I realized how different the countries
were even with a similar population split: the lifestyle on Mauritius is friendly and laid back,
but it's push-and-shove in Malaysia, with a cold shoulder from most Malays (something one
might be tempted to attribute to Muslim culture were it not for the fact that I never felt this
way in any other Muslim country, including nearby Indonesia). Thinking back, I couldn't
remember one time where a local Malay even gave a hint of a smile, even when it was their
job to greet and help out tourists. After a while, if I'd need to ask for directions I'd try to find
an Indian or Chinese local to ask, because as much as I hate to stereotype, I'd usually be
brushed off or given a curt response by a Malay, but a Chinese or Indian Malaysian would
always take the time to help.
With the bus trip cool, comfortable and relaxing, I soon began to feel better. Arriving
into Butterworth, the town didn't look too interesting, so I followed the crowd of people to
the nearby ferry terminal and caught the ferry back to Penang (RM0.60 in this direction). As
I sat down in front, a Malay guy next to me began coughing violently, so I moved next to a
young Chinese couple. Taking out my Lonely Planet, I asked them if it was possible to catch
a bus to the airport (as I didn't want to deal with Penang taxis again)... extremely friendly,
they said "yes, from Komtar" — and as they were going to Komtar themselves, told me just
to come with them.
As an obvious tourist, I was yelled at by every waiting taxi driver at the ferry terminal,
and though I decided to remain silent, thought back to a useful Malay expression Thomas
had taught me: "Tak Mau" (the equivalent of "bug off" or "leave me alone"). Following the
couple, I soon boarded a small minibus by the ferry terminal to Komtar (RM0.80/US21c — it
actually wouldn't have been that far of a walk from the terminal, but with the hot day and
heavy backpack, I decided to stay with the couple... they had been nice enough to help me
anyway).
At the Komtar Bus Station, it can be a bit confusing figuring out which bus goes
where, for while each lane has a map showing a route, there's no centralized sign — and the
airport isn't prominently marked on the maps. Asking a station employee which bus to
catch for the airport, he couldn't answer in English, so instead wrote the answer down on a
piece of paper: Bus #83 or Bus #66 (Bus #83 will take you right to the airport, while Bus
#66 will stop about 4-5 minutes walk away from the terminal). Waiting for what seemed like
forever, I watched as bus after bus of the same number came into the crowded station,
hogging the lanes and staying still until they each picked up enough passengers — but none
of these went to the airport (I asked a few drivers just to be sure, but they indeed verified
that I'd need Bus #66 or #83). So much time had passed and it was now so late (almost
5:00pm) that I actually started walking towards a taxi when I finally saw a Bus #66 come by
(turning into a different lane, as the correct lane was still full with other minibuses).
Running to meet it (as did others), the driver said he only stopped outside the airport — but
I still boarded it, for it could have been another hour before a Bus #83 came by. With
standing room only, I left my backpack at the front and found a spot under a weak air-con
vent (though with the windows open it didn't do much good). As with the ferry, there were
plenty of non-smoking signs, but they still didn't prevent someone from lighting up on the
packed bus. This big yellow bus was different than the usual Transit Link buses... here, the
fare varied depending on the distance travelled, and instead of dropping coins into a box
near the driver, there was a fare collector walking through the packed aisle to collect money.
The fare from Komtar to just outside the airport was only RM1.70/US45c (a far cry from
what a taxi would charge) and took 35 minutes (leaving Komtar at 4:54pm and arriving
outside the airport at 5:30pm). Though the driver assured me he'd let me know when we
arrived at the correct stop, with other recent drivers forgetting to do so, I constantly looked
out the window for the airport — but just as I saw it off in the distance, the bus stopped and
the driver motioned for me to get off (pointing out the direction I had to go). Walking a brisk
4-5 minutes, I soon found myself at the Penang Airport just at the suggested "90 minutes
before" check-in time.
At the airport I changed a little ringgit into Singapore dollars at a decent rate
(RM100=S$44) before going to the Malaysian Airlines check-in counter. There was actually
an earlier flight in the process of boarding, but I was told it had already closed (and I hadn't
even bought my ticket yet). Though I could have used Delta miles (by taking Sinagpore)
more than Northwest (Malaysian), I wanted the earlier flight... so I bought my ticket on
Malaysian (RM295/US$77.63: RM255 + RM40 Penang Airport tax), with both Malaysian and
Singapore being the same price. Checking in next, I was given seat 5F (assigned this
afternoon while calling from Thomas' place), and was told it'd be OK to take my backpack on
board as a carry-on (as it turns into a large duffel bag).
With a bit of time to spare I put my bag through security — but security at the
airport was a joke: there's an X-ray machine in the center of the check-in room where an
employee merely puts a piece of tape on your bag's zipper to show that it's been cleared.
However it's quite easy for anyone to just open it up and slip something else inside (I opened
it afterwards to take out a pen!) — but once your bag has a piece of tape anywhere on it, no
one looks closely as you walk through the gates (located away from X-ray/security).
Looking around the small airport lobby for a few minutes, I first called home to check
messages from a rare working Telekom card phone before using my Time Kontact card to
call the hotel in Singapore I wanted to stay at: the Mayfair Hotel. Hotel rates in Singapore
are no bargain, and are much more expensive than in neighboring Malaysia. However the
Mayfair Hotel was one of the cheapest, and for S$52.50/US$30.52 per night (S$50 + 5%
tax), you're given a plain-but-nice room with air-con and private bath located in an older
building not too far from the Raffles Hotel. Making a reservation for this evening, I let the
hotel know I'd be arriving a bit late, and asked them to hold the room.
After calling the hotel I sat down at a table to start writing in the journal until I heard
the announcement for people on my flight to head for the boarding area. Passing through
sections where plenty of construction was going on, I reached the gate only to see that I'd
still have quite a long wait, as the plane we were to depart on had just arrived, and
passengers were just starting to come off. Being quite hungry after having nothing but
liquids and popsicles all day, I asked one of the two ladies at a snack kiosk how much a
small piece of sponge cake was — and was told RM2.20/US58c (a rip-off for Malaysia).
Giving the other lady RM2.20, this second lady then said it was RM2.30 — and as the two
conferred on what the proper price should be, the second finally said RM2.20 would be OK...
so I gave her RM2.27, getting rid of all my change except for a RM0.50 piece.
The plane itself was quite comfortable (it should be at 3 times the price of the KL ->
Penang flight, even though it's only 1hr 10mins long), and sitting next to me was a young
Singapore-Chinese couple with a baby (who thankfully was quiet and well-behaved).
Though the flight was supposed to be non-smoking, once again Malaysians don't seem to
care, and I smelled cigarette smoke three separate times during the flight. Taking out my
journal, I wrote in it continously, stopping only for takeoff and meal service (spicy chicken &
rice... I just had a little).
Landing at Changi Airport in Singapore, I was immeidately impressed at how
complete and visitor-friendly it is — if I hadn't been so tired and eager to get to the hotel, I'd
have spent some time looking around the various shops and areas of the airport. Signs
everywhere ask "Do You Need Help?", with arrows indicating the direction to the closest
visitor information counter, and one marked difference between Changi and KLIA is the
friendly, helpful attitude of the tourist information staff — quite different than the cold-
shoulder attitude one receives at KLIA (not to mention all the racks filled with maps and
brochures... meaning a visitor can just browse and take what he/she needs rather than
having to obtain them from an information desk).
Customs at Changi was almost too easy, and looking around I realized this was one
of the nicest, most practical airports I had ever been in (I especially liked the aquarium). Not
wanting to spend time at an airport tonight though, I went first to an ATM to withdraw some
S$ before buying some SingTel telephone cards from the money changers (purchasing both
the insertable and scratch-off types).
If you don't want to bother with public transportation or the cost of a private taxi,
there's an airport shuttle van which will drop you off at the various hotels in town for
S$7/US$4.07. Buying a ticket at the counter for the 8:55pm shuttle, I thought I still had
some time, and asked a guard if I could re-enter the secure area to stop at the Burger King
(he refused, saying another Burger King was just outside). Before I had time to check it out
though, my van number was being called, and it was time to follow the Chinese driver to the
waiting Mercedes minivan (which left ahead of schedule, at 8:50pm). With Chinese pop
tunes playing softly on the radio, the driver answered an incoming cel call for a minute (his
phone ringing to the theme from "Mission Impossible") as we drove quietly through the night
into downtown.
Being dropped off at the Mayfair City Hotel (40-44 Armenian Street), there was a
family of tourists banging on the locked door outside, saying they had been there for a few
minutes, but no one had come to open up the door. With a public phone right outside on
the street, I called the hotel's number — and a minute later an old Chinese man came down
to open the door. This was the only drawback with an otherwise fine, inexpensive hotel:
though you're free to come and go as you please, the front door is kept locked in the
evenings, and while the old Chinese man usually sleeps by the door (ready to open it when
someone knocks), he'll occasionally be off in the bathroom or somewhere else in the building
(later the old Chinese man told me "don't worry, I sleep down here... just pound on the
door"). Welcoming me to the hotel, the old man offered me a glass of juice and took my
passport, saying "pay tomorrow" before taking me up to the 2F to show me room 204: the
nice-sized room was indeed plain, but had two twin beds (one better than the other), a
cabinet to hang clothes in, a chair and table, a strong air-con unit on the wall, and a private
bathroom with shower (the wall in the bathroom isn't quite sealed all the way at the edge,
and while no one can see anything compromising through it, if people in the room next door
are talking in their bathroom or taking a shower, you can hear the noise in your room —
though closing the bathroom door helps).
After setting my bags down I decided to go out for a quick bite to eat, as I was now
beginning to feel hungry for the first time since last night. The old guy downstairs said the
food stand next door wasn't very good and instead recommended one a few blocks away...
but I actually wound up going the other direction in hopes of finding a 7-11. A teenager I
asked on the street pointed out the direction of a 7-11, and I soon found myself at the
corner of Northbridge and Coleman streets. Here, I noticed a lot of kids just hanging out,
and it seemed that this was the place where kids come at night to let off steam in a soceity
where rebellion is frowned upon by the state.
Walking into a few of the shops here, I immediately noticed the different atmosphere
of Singapore: unlike most of Asia, when you walk into a store in Singapore, you'll never be
hassled or bothered until you approach someone to ask a question (a nice change of pace,
especially for less-travelled tourists who will invariably avoid looking in stores or stalls
where there's a heavy sales pitch). In Singapore you can walk into a store or stall and take
the time to decide without being hassled or bothered (about the only exception to this are
the Indian tailors along Orchard Road who tout a bit as you walk by... other than that
though, shopping in even the smallest shops is a hassle-free experience). The stores in this
area (Northbridge and Coleman) have good prices on various items, selling three souvenir T-
shirts for S$10/US$5.81, watches for S$10/US$5.88, and long drawstring slacks for
S$9.95/US$5.78.
Finding the 7-11, I first checked out the food court below it: in Sinagpore, the food
courts are clean and tidy, with large signs displaying pictures and prices in a uniform
standard (more like a food court in an American shopping mall than in Asia) — and at this
particular one there were 20 restaurants, with plenty of chairs and clean tables in the center
(looked after by employees constantly cleaning them up). Though I really wanted some
chicken soup, the place serving it was out... so instead I ordered a crock-pot of chicken-rice
(S$3.30/US$1.92), but the rice was a bit burnt for my taste. In the end, I went to the
Burger King next door (as much as I hate do visit such places, with the way my stomach
had been, the plain chicken sandwich with cheese [S$4.00/US$2.33] really hit the spot).
Everyone in Singapore speaks English, but that didn't stop Burger King from being Burger
King: when I asked for a chicken sandwich plain with cheese, it instead arrived without
cheese, but with all the toppings (at least they gladly fixed it).
On the way back I stopped at the 7-11 to pick up a few cans of soda water and some
gummy candy... and back in the room (where I had left the air-con on), it was now nice and
comfortable. Even though I was pretty tired with the lack of sleep last night, I still finished
my journal (though it didn't take as long tonight, as much of it had been written on the
plane).
Misc. observations: arriving into Singapore tonight the streets were wet (it obviously
must have rained earlier, though the weather was clear now)... there are instructions on just
about everything you see, including a complete list of "DOs and DON'Ts" on escalators... like
Hong Kong and London, Singapore has its share of double-decker buses... while food isn't
expensive in Singapore, it's more than in Malaysia (for instance, a can of 100 Plus soda
would be US32c-US37c in Malaysia, but US76c in Singapore).
Feb. 5: Singapore
Waking up in a cool, air-conditioned room at 7:20am, I had my first good night's
sleep in a while. Leaving right away (the old Chinese man said to pay him later — though I
asked for my passport back), I headed to nearby Ft. Canning Park — a nice green area with
an old fort, excavation area, and plenty of walking trails. A few locals were out exercising
this morning, and signs everywhere explained the historical significance of the various
sections. After meandering around for half an hour, I walked down the back side and
noticed a sign by a traffic signal reading "Should traffic signal become faulty, please call
[number]... quote signal #282." Singapore is full of such helpful signs, including
intersections with "walk" signals indicating the seconds-to-go and traffic condition boards
showing the estimated time to certain areas.
From the other side of the park I soon found myself in the Colonial District of town —
an area filled with old, British-style buildings which now house everything from Parliament
to the Supreme Court. It's an interesting area to walk around, and plenty of public works
employees were out sweeping the sidewalks and streets, helping to keep Singapore clean.
There's almost no litter anywhere out in public, and only once did I notice grafitti (in an
underpass under Orchard Road).
Arriving at the Singapore River, I strolled along the shore for a few minutes to take a
picture of the famous Merlion statue (though no water was coming from its mouth), and
though the morning was cloudy and overcast, it was still warm and humid. The area was
full of tour groups, and though the cafes and shops by the water were closed and quiet now,
they'd be busy by the evening. Continuing my walk, I found a motorized underground
passageway for the Fullerton Hotel before heading on over to Chinatown via the Central
Business District.
Walking through the CBD, I noticed that even here among the city's tallest
skyscrapers, there were green areas set aside where people could relax and have a cup of
coffee. Asking a building security guard for directions to Chinatown, he went out of his way
to be clear and helpful. Listening to the sounds around me, while a few people on the street
spoke Chinese or an Indian dialect amongst themselves, most spoke English to each other
— and I never once encountered a Singaporean who didn't speak fluent English.
Using the Chinatown walking course suggested in the Lonely Planet, I spent some
time exploring the area, but perhaps because a majority of the country's population is
Chinese, the "Chinatown" is pretty disappointing — clean and sanitized, it feels more like a
Universal Studios Chinatown than the real thing (on the other hand, Sinagpore's Little India
still feels authentic, and is one of the best spots to visit). However in Chinatown, the streets
really lack character... the few original buildings still around have been painted and made
into fancy offices or shops, and they stand alongside new buildings that all look alike. Here
there are no chickens hanging in display cases or stalls selling knockoff watches... no hustle
and bustle or people out doing business — as dirty and noisy as most Chinatowns are, they
at least have life in them, but that was all missing here.
While looking in at the Thian Hock Keng Temple, I saw a local elementary school
visiting it on a field trip — and it was interesting to note that while a majority of the kids
were Chinese, the teacher was Indian (wearing a turbin), lecturing the kids in English on the
history of the Chinese temple. Also nearby in the heart of Chinatown is Singapore's oldest
Hindu temple: the Sri Mariamman Temple (S$3/US$1.74 for a camera permit)... quite a
beautiful temple and well worth a visit, the ceilings are covered with paintings of various
deities (for some reason the Indian temples in Singapore were much more impressive than
the Chinese ones). The only business I stopped at in Chinatown was a stationary store (to
pick up a small notepad), and it was no different than if it had been located in the CBD.
Walking up Ann Siang Hill (a small hill located next to Chinatown), the area at the
top is much the same as Chinatown below, with newly-painted, restored buildings all
looking alike (including one housing DoubleClick Asia). After a few minutes I walked down
and left Chinatown, stopping for a bao (S0.90/US52c) at an outside food court on Amoy
Street occupying the 2F of what looked like a concrete parking structure. Using a nearby
phone to try to call home and check my bank balance (with a scratch-off telephone card), it
wouldn't work — as when using a scratch-off card, the "#" key acts as the hangup/new-call
button (though if an insertable card is used, the "#" key will work properly).
Entering the Kreta Ayer area, I noticed it was one of the few places with homeless
people lying out on the benches, and was surprised that they hadn't yet been removed...
looking up, every flat in the large apartment block next to me had a "flagpole" rod sticking
out, onto which people would hang their laundry out to dry... and at the base of the building
a Singapore Post mailman was delivering mail on a bicycle. In the area was a "3 for S$10"
store selling various junky items (fake crystal swans, thimbles, etc.) for 3-for-S$10 or 6-for-
S$10 (I later noticed many of the same items for sale on Orchard Road [the expensive
shopping district in Singapore] at a much higher price).
Noticing a bunch of tour buses parked nearby, I decided to walk over and see what
was going on... but it turned out just to be a small shopping area where the buses stop in
droves. The merchants had their wares out on the sidewalk (clothes, souvenirs, etc.), but
there were no bargains to be found, as all the tour groups stop here.
I next walked into the People's Park Centre (a large indoor shopping complex) and
was surprised to see how expensive cameras and electronics were in Singapore. While good
deals on textiles can still be found in the country, it seems that Singapore no longer lives up
to its reputation as a place to buy cheap electronics or photographic gear, as such items
(even after bargaining) are either more expensive than home, or the exact same price. To be
fair, I'm looking at it from an American's point of view... some non-American tourists I spoke
with (including a Scotish family looking at the same Philips shaver I was) said the prices
were still cheaper than in the UK — but for an American, the only reason to buy an
electronic or camera item in Singapore is if it's a model not available at home (otherwise
you'll just pay more for it). If you do wish to buy such goods in Singapore however, the
absolute best place to go is Mustafa Centre in Little India. Whereas most electronics shops
in Singapore either don't mark their prices or mark ridiculously high ones (from which you
have to bargain down), Mustafa has each item clearly marked with a firm price that is
always lower than the lowest bargaining price I was ever able to get in other shops. For
instance, disappointed that I hadn't bought that Philips shaver at the Johannesburg airport,
I looked for Philips shavers every chance I had in Singapore — and while one particular
model was S$180-S$190/US$104-US$110 at all other shops (with S$160/US$93 being the
lowest price I could bargain down to after a lot of hassle), Mustafa had the same model for
instant purchase at S$133/US$77.32 — quite a difference, though as it's the same price it
sells for at home when on sale, I decided not to buy it.
Continuing my walk, I headed back to the Raffles Hotel to walk inside its famous
Long Bar. Though the Singapore Slings here aren't reputed to be very good anymore, I was
more interested in the bar's atmosphere: the drinks were indeed expensive, but the place
has plenty of ambiance, with tourists sitting at tables under ceiling fans telling stories of
their adventures in Singapore, taking pictures of themselves. At first I was going to order a
Coke just to order something here, but soon decided to leave, not wanting to waste the time
or money (I stopped to get a slurpee later — S$1.40/US81c for a large). Walking out to have
a look at the hotel grounds, I saw plenty of expensive boutiques (many with signs posted in
Japanese)... but when I tried to walk into the lobby, I was turned away by a guard: the hotel
has a dress code, and I guess shorts and sandals weren't allowed (though a guest of the
hotel was wearing shorts... was it really the sandals, or the fact that I wasn't a guest?)
Walking up Waterloo Street, I passed a small but nice Jewish Synagogue before
coming to to the Sri Krishnon Hindu temple... outside the Hindu temple were incense sticks
with a sign posted for the benefit of their Chinese devotees indicating they were free. Next
door at the Kwan Im (Goddess of Mercy) Temple, lots of Chinese were praying both outside
and inside — and the outside grounds were filled with hawkers selling flowers, incense,
paper money, and other items for use in the temple, even though a "NO HAWKERS" sign was
posted.
Stopping at various stalls and shops along the way, I noticed that most of the VCDs
in Singapore were legitimate copies (with many carrying the "Board of Censors Singapore"
seal). Though there were a few junky titles for S$1.90/US$1.10, most VCDs ranged from
S$9.90-S$29.90/US$5.76-US$17.38, with the pricey S$29.90 ones having stickers stating
"stop video piracy" (though I suspect most Singaporeans have plenty of bootleg VCDs just as
their Malaysian counterparts do).
Nearby on Bugis Street (a small, unimportant covered shopping area consisting of a
few aisles), I found some boogleg audio CDs, knockoff copy watches, pirate gameboy games
("41-in-1"), as well as a cheap tiny radio for sale with the name "MOTARLOA" (instead of
"Motorola"). Here I also saw the first of many stalls selling DVDs... many were marked
"Region 3" (for Singapore), though most shops in Singapore also sell "Region 1" DVDs
imported from Canada where the dollar is weaker (with the notice "Not to be sold outsdie
Canada" printed on the back). With S$55/US$31.98 the typical price for a Region 1 DVD,
they were more expensive than at home, and I didn't see any bootleg DVDs for sale.
Walking around, one thing strange I noticed was that quite a few of the shops and
stalls seemed to be closed... I'm not sure if it was because some might keep only late hours
or because Chinese New Years had just finished and some owners might still be on
holiday... but about 20% of the shops seemed to be shuttered during what should have been
a normal business day.
Next I decided to walk to Sim Lim, the large indoor shopping center famous for
electronics and computer supplies. Here the lower floors house the electronics shops while
the upper floors have the computers and computer accessories. Perhaps because this is a
famous place for people to visit, the electronics stores here offered the worst prices in town
(again, if you're really interested in buying electronics or camera gear in Singapore, head
straight for Mustafa Centre in Little India and forget Sim Lim and the other shopping areas).
Though I didn't spend too much time up on the computer floors, I did notice that they were
filled with locals browsing and buying, whereas the electronics shops on the lower levels
were filled almost exclusively with tourists. Stopping in at a few computer accessories
shops, I tried to buy the replacement rubber covers for Toshiba laptop pointing sticks — but
no one seemed to sell them. Finally one shop I inquired at said their other office in town
had them — and after calling to verify, quoted an expensive S$15/US$8.72 for a set of two (I
passed).
After spending about an hour inside Sim Lim I decided to walk over to Little India —
and I immediately liked the area. While parts of Little India were as clean and tidy as the
rest of Singapore, other parts were a bit less sanitized... and the district is interesting to
explore. There are plenty of shops selling everything from Indian clothing to toys, and in
general most stores here have better prices than anywhere else in town (warm sodas were
only S$0.50/US29c from the sidewalk shops). While exploring the area it suddenly began to
rain, though I didn't mind, as there were plenty of stores to browse through and many were
worth spending some time in. Serangoon Road has plenty of bargain stores, including one
which sold food, plastics, and other miscellaneous items (many imported from Indonesia) for
extremely good prices.
A bit further up Serangoon Road and you come to Mustafa Centre, which now
occupies their old location as well as the Serangoon Plaza next door (the store basically
takes up an entire corner). Mustafa is not only the best place to buy electronic and camera
equipment in Singapore, it sells just about everything else on its various floors, including
watches, toys, stationary, suitcases, clothing, and all types of food — and the price is always
clearly displayed on every item in the store. Some examples: Philips high-end shavers:
S$133/US$77.32... the mini Sony ICF-22 shortwave radio: S$108/US$62.79... Fuji Superia
200/36 print film: S$3.50/US$2.04... and a nice Casio analog watch: S$13/US$7.56 (the
store has tons of watches for sale, with brands ranging from Casio and Q+Q to Seiko, Citizen
and Rado). In the end I didn't buy anything at Mustafa — but had I decided to buy
something in the country, it would definitely have been from them. Their prices on
everything from cameras to portable VCD walkmans were considerably lower than anyplace
else in Singapore, and if you aren't able to visit Malaysia or some of the cheaper countries in
the region, head straight for Mustafa (I was actually tempted to buy that S$13 Casio watch,
but decided not to... and a few days later found it for sale at the exact same equivalent price
in a Chinese watch shop in Melaka, Malaysia). Besides having the lowest prices in
Singapore, Mustafa also has a huge selection: it was the only place in either Malaysia or
Singapore where I saw WorldSpace satellite radio receivers for sale (the same Hitachi and
Sanyo units I had seen at the Johannesburg airport) — and when I asked for some
information on the radios, the friendly salesman handed me some promotional literature for
both a Hitachi and Panasonic set (it was from this literature that I found out WorldSpace's
satellite coverage plans would not include North America).
With the rain now stopped, I continued walking through the city... in the Nemura
Hotel area at around 5:30pm I was surprised to see transvestite prostitutes soliciting, and a
bit later on Bencoolen Road, I stopped for the first real food (other than a bao) I'd had all
day: some curry chicken noodle soup in a small ground-floor Chinese restaurant of an office
tower (though the broth was excellent, there wasn't enough of it, with too much chicken-on-
the-bone). The soup and a Coke Light came to S$5.20/US$3.02 — not bad considering the
part of town I was in (a business area).
Having walked the whole day, I decided to keep going, as I still wanted to see Orchard
Road (figuring it'd be cooler in the evening, and the shops would still be open). There was a
lot of construction going on for the new MRT line between the YMCA and Plaza Singapura —
it was a major hassle to get around, but soon I was walking down Singapore's most
exclusive (and expensive) shopping street. It was now 6:30pm, and I spent the next few
hours walking around the area, looking in at some of the various shops and malls along the
way. This part of town could easily pass for a street in Tokyo's Shinjuku or Shibuya wards,
with its huge color TV monitors, Japanese department stores, fashionable boutiques, and
American-style shopping malls. Unless you like such shopping (I don't) there's not too
much to the area, but if curious, it's probably worth an hour or two of your time. Walking
into one of the 5-6 story shopping malls (all lined up one after the other), I realized someone
could easily spend the entire day here, though I suppose the question would be "why?"
Outside one mall was a taxi queue area with a push-button board to help you find others
needing to go to the same area as you (so you can share a taxi and split the fare — not a bad
idea). With all the walking I had done, I stopped for a slurpee at 7-11 and a chicken
sandwich at Burger King, noting one of the few cheap stores of the area (the nearby S$1.99
Store, filled with cheap S$1.99/US$1.16 Japanese and Chinese items). Orchard Road also
has many small Indian tailor shops, and these shops are about the only ones in Singapore
where the storekeepers will do a bit of hawking as you walk by, trying to persuade you to
step into their shop for a tailor-made suit.
As it was now dark, I walked into the Hyatt Hotel in hopes of a nice view... but taking
the elevator up to the 13F, saw only a partial view of the street below. Continuing to stroll
down Orchard Road, I also walked down a few side streets (including Scotts Road — the Far
East Plaza is nothing special), finally reaching the end of Orchard Road (where it curves and
becomes Tanglin Road) before turning around to walk back on the other side.
All over town today I noticed bus stops plastered with ads touting KFC's S$0.50
chocolate soft-serve cones — but every KFC I asked at (including here on Orchard Road)
said "oh, it's only available at selected KFCs," — and instead offered Walls pre-made ice-
cream for about 8 times the price. I didn't find any Shige Kicks candy for sale at Isetan, but
on the way back, did buy some at Takashimaya. There's also a Kinokuniya bookstore in the
Takashimaya building, so I went in for a look: large and well-stocked, it sold both Japanese
and Chinese versions of manga.
As it was now past 9:00pm and many of the stores were closing (though the night
spots would remain open), I decided to head back to the hotel, as I would need to leave early
for the ferry to Bintan Island, Indonesia tomorrow. After walking back most of the way, I
realized I hadn't yet taken the MRT in Singapore — so I decided to try it for just a short
distance (it was on this walk home that I noticed the only grafitti I saw in Singapore, in a
temporary pedestrian walkway in a construction area).
Walking into the Dhoby Ghant Station, the automated ticket machines were easy to
figure out, and I wound up buying 3 S$0.80/US47c tickets (keeping 2 as souvenirs, as your
ticket is eaten/recycled once used). For those planning on using the MRT a lot, there's an
all-day pass offered — but as I prefer walking, I never saw the need to buy one myself (the
special multi-trip tourist ticket costs S$7). The MRT is quite nice and extremely clean (with
air-conditioning and hard seats), and at most underground station stops (unlike the
elevated outside ones) the tracks are sealed off behind glass doors which remain shut until a
train arrives (both for safety and to cut down on noise — with the tracks sealed off, the
approaching train almost can't be heard). The MRT doesn't operate 24 hours though, and
shuts down at midnight.
Returning back to the hotel after stopping at a mini-mart for some cans of soda
water, I paid for two nights worth of accomodation and told the old Chinese man that I'd
probably be spending two more nights — but would let him know for sure by tomorrow
morning (I would take the ferry to Indonesia tomorrow, but wasn't sure if I'd spend the night
there or not). Going upstairs to write in my journal, I noticed the space of about 2 inches at
the edge of the wall connecting my bathroom to the room next door (meaning any smoke,
talking, or noise would come right in).
While picking up messages earlier in the day, I received a work call for next week...
having to wait until midnight though (when it would be 8:00am in California), I finally went
to use the phone outside the hotel door to confirm the job (having to wake up the old
Chinese guy — but he sleeps by the door, and returning guests wake him up all the time).
Misc. info: addresses of shops in the large shopping centers show their exact location
in the address, with the first digit indicating the floor and the second digit its location on
that floor (for example, "#05-18" would indicate Shop 18 on the 5th floor)... the MRT stations
have not only names but station numbers (E6, E7, E8, etc.) to identify them... about the
only thing lacking at these stations are coin-changers: the automated ticket machines are
only automatic if you happen to have coins on you — if you have only bills, you must go to
the window and ask for change in order to use the machine (you can't buy tickets at the
window; all they will do is give you change for the machine)... you can purchase a fare card
for use on the MRT and bus, and if you use the pre-paid card, you're given a small discount
on the fare.
Feb. 6: Pulau Bintan (Indonesia)
Though my alarm was set for 7:00am, I woke up before it went off, and lied in bed
until 6:40am. Getting up to look over some information on Bintan Island, I had to decide
whether to just visit the main city of Tanjung Pinang and return to Singapore that evening,
or try to stay the night at Trikora Beach. The more I thought about it though, the more I
realized I had seen enough beaches from Thailand to Zanzibar lately, and with the limited
amount of time, I had, I'd almost certainly return back to Singapore unless something really
interesting turned up. To be on the safe side I took along a pair of swim trunks and some
dental floss, but I was pretty sure by now that I'd return back in the evening.
Walking downstairs, I told the the old man (as well as a younger Chinese guy now
around) that I was going to Pulau Bintan for the day, and would probably return here in the
evening — but if I didn't return that night, to still keep my room for two more days (he said
no problem, just pay later).
At the nearby City Centre MRT station I took the train to Tanah Merah (the stop
closest to the ferry terminal). Though most people this time of day were headed the other
way (from the suburbs into town), it was still rush hour, and there were plenty of people on
the MRT. For part the trip the train goes outside, affording you some good views of
suburban Singapore... many people tend to think Singapore is just the main downtown area
where most tourists wind up, but it's not: most of the country is made up of suburban living
areas filled with large colorful apartment blocks, small homes, schools, parks, and factories.
At Tanah Merah station, I left the train to wait for Bus 35 outside (the bus for the
ferry terminal). Cloudy and looking as if rain might come (though still warm), I waited with
dozens of locals at the bus stop, noticing how ordered and less pushy they were than their
Malaysian neighbors. Finally a double-decker #35 drove up, and I had my first chance to
ride one of Singapore's buses: though the fare depends on the distance you wish to go, from
the MRT station to the ferry terminal was S$0.80/US47c if you paid by cash — however like
the MRT, the fare is slightly discounted if you use a fare card (in this case, S$0.70). Each
bus has a machine to insert a fare card into and obtain a receipt (if you pay the driver cash
your receipt will also come from this machine), and it's a good idea to hang onto the receipt
as proof that you've paid the fare. As there's no change machine on the bus, I dropped my
S$1 coin into the slot and walked up to the second level.
At the ferry terminal, I noticed a few different ferry companies operating to Pulau
Bintan... originally I thought the correct one to take was Bintan Resort Ferries, but it turns
out this company only operates to an exclusive resort on the island, and not to the main
town of Tanjung Pinang. For those wishing to go somewhere other than the resort, the only
two choices are the Penguin Fast Ferry and one other company.
Walking up to the Penguin office, the friendly lady there informed me that the
weekday round-trip rate was S$42/US$24.42 not including Indonesian departure tax
(weekends are higher). I bought the ticket, but then noticed that Bintan Resort Ferries
would be leaving earlier (and had a cheaper fare). Asking if I could have a refund, she
cheerfully gave me one — but at the Bintan Resort window, I found they only stopped at the
resort. Looking over at the third company which offered service, I saw their first ferry didn't
leave until 10:30am — so I walked back to the Penguin desk once more. The lady there was
still quite friendly, but as I was ready to re-buy my S$42 ticket, I noticed a flyer mentioning
a package deal for S$50/US$29.07, which included a tour of the island, a visit to a local tea
factory, and a stop at a neighboring island of your choice (Bintan has some smaller islands
just off its coast). Thinking about it for a few minutes, I wasn't sure what to do... the lady
told me I'd be the only one on the package today (and it was only S$8/US$4.65 more than
the fare itself) — but in the end I decided I'd rather just set my own pace and explore Bintan
on my own. Finally buying the ticket for S$42, I thanked her and walked over to
immigration.
After clearing immigration and buying a snack it was time to board, and as the
announcement was made, everyone calmly walked out to the ferry. The Penguin ferries are
modern and new, but passengers are only allowed indoors, not outside. To keep people
entertained there are TV monitors playing typically violent Hong Kong movies and a small
snack bar which sets out sealed cups of spring water for free. Because the ferry is operated
by a Singaporean company rather than an Indonesian one, it's clean and safe, with a life
vest under every seat. Sitting by the window, the first thought in my head was "I'm on
another boat... again..."
Taking a ferry to Bintan is a good way to see Singapore's shipping business up close,
for as we left the dock, we must have passed literally hundreds of container ships, all lined
up and parked every which way while waiting to enter the Port of Singapore (with buoys to
mark the lanes we came quite close to them in our tiny ferry boat). There were so many
cargo ships in the area that even after travelling for some time we still hadn't passed them
all, and they're a testament to one of the world's busiest ports. The ferry terminal is also
quite close to Changi Airport, and there are always planes landing and taking off in the area
(later that night while waiting for the bus I watched plane after plane come in for a landing).
Indonesia is one hour behind Singapore, but while on the ferry, I made the mistake of
setting my watch ahead by an hour instead — meaning my watch showed the time two
hours later than it really was (earlier that morning from in front of the hotel, I called the
Trikora Beach Resort at 7:00am Singapore time to ask how much a room was
[S$60/US$34.88], thinking it was 8:00am Indonesian time, and not the actual 6:00am), but
I wouldn't notice my mistake until later this afternoon.
Arriving at Tanjung Pinang about 1hr 45mins later, the first sight one notices is all
the garbage floating around in the water — plastic bags, cans, and anything else people
decide to just throw into the sea. After immigration, you're soon besieged by touts shouting
"taxi!" and "where you go, sir?" (just ignore them). Once you walk past the taxi area and out
to the main street, you're greeted by yet another group of touts on motorbikes (with double-
length seats), all lined up wanting to take you somewhere, as the motorbike taxi is a popular
form of transportation here — and though the seats are big enough for two adults, I once
saw a family of 5 (3 young kids and 2 adults) riding on one.
As Indonesia is one of the largest countries in the world — and I've seen only tiny
Pulau Bintan — I have no idea if this is an accurate reflection of the rest of the country or
not, but even with all the touts and hawkers, I came away with quite a good impression of
the Indonesian people. Perhaps it's because the Riau Islands are so close to Singapore, but
just about everyone I encountered was extremely friendly towards an obvious tourist
(especially for a Muslim country), and was night-and-day different from Malaysia. Of course
the hawkers here are as pushy and rude as anywhere else in the world, but once you leave
them, I was surprised with how genuinely friendly everyone was. Except in the ferry
terminal area where the touts congregate, the "Hello, Mister!"s and other greetings were
always sincere, whether they be said by people passing you on the street or children waving
from a distance. Even those who didn't speak English would smile and apologize for not
understanding rather than brushing me off, and while Indonesia is a huge country requiring
months of time to see properly, I'm still glad I visited tiny Pulau Bintan for the day. All this
of course doesn't apply near the ferry terminal, where dozens of touts will shout at you in
hopes of getting your business... the taxi drivers (both normal and motobike) can be a
hassle, with your only option just to ignore them.
The first thing I did was find an ATM to withdraw some local currency. This isn't a
problem, as there are now 3 ATMs in town on the Plus and Cirrus networks relatively close
to the ferry terminal: the first one you come to is a BII ATM, though the smallest bills it
dispenses are Rs50,000 notes. Just 30 seconds further down the road though, the Lippo
Bank ATM dispenses Rs20,000 notes — but not seeing the Lippo ATM at first, I took out
Rs100,000 (Rs50,000 x2) from the BII ATM at the rate of Rs5,400=S$1=US58c (or about
US$1=Rs9,288). The ATM rate is much better than exchanging money at the Singapore
ferry terminal, but the only problem with the ATMs is that thet dispense large bills, and
you'll need to change them into smaller notes. Having only Rs50,000 notes, I walked into a
nice Chinese-run hotel across the street to ask if they could give me change... the lady there
kindly did, giving me Rs20,000, Rs10,000, and Rs5,000 notes (though I later found more of
a need for Rs1,000 and Rs500 notes than anything else).
Pulau Bintan has two smaller islands nearby: Penyenget and Senggarang. Figuring
I'd have time to look around Tanjung Pinang later, I first wanted to visit Penyenget, known
for its old buildings and pleasant atmosphere. There are a few different piers in Tanjung
Pinang, and following the Lonely Planet and Rough Guide directions, I headed off towards
the one from which the boats to Penyenget were supposed to depart. As it turns out though,
both books were incorrect about which pier to catch the public boats from... and at the pier
the books mentioned, I was told it would cost Rs20,000/US$2.15 to charter my own boat.
As I was looking for the public shuttle boats, the man there pointed back towards the main
ferry terminal, hardly speaking any English. Walking back, I stopped to ask a Chinese
shopkeeper if she knew where the Penyenget boats departed from, and she also said that I
needed to go back towards the ferry terminal as well. Soon, an older man came up to ask if
he could help... at first I thought he was a tout, but it turned out he just wanted to be
helpful and practice his English a bit... he showed me to the proper jetty, and before
arriving, told me the price should be Rs2,000/US22c. Once there though, the man by the
boats wanted Rs20,000... shaking my head, I politely said that it should be Rs2,000. A
moment later a local official who spoke some English happened to wander by, and asked if
he could help. Explaining to him that the proper price to Penyenget should be Rs2,000 not
Rs20,000, he spoke to the man down by the water for a moment before clarifying things:
Rs20,000 is the price for a private boat out to the island, but I can also take a shared boat
for Rs2,000 — though I'd need to wait for others to come. Saying that was OK with me, I
thanked both the old man and the official, as the man by the water showed me the correct
boat to wait in. Though the difference wasn't a lot of money to me, I honestly wanted to take
the public boat along with everyone else instead of hiring a private boat (otherwise I would
have just opted for the package tour). For those of you wishing to visit Penyenget, forget
what the Lonely Planet and Rough Guides say: the shared boats to the island now leave
from a tiny jetty just next to (almost part of) the main pier where you disembark from the
Penguin Ferry... walking from immigration onto land, it'll be on your right-hand side by the
shore (facing the pier, it'll be on your left). There's no second pier, just a small area by the
shore from which to board the boats.
Though I was the first to wait for the shared boat to leave, it wasn't long before two
locals boarded... and after waiting only 10-15 minutes, we left for Pulau Penyenget. The
shared boats are small wooden motorboats with a covering overhead and a few benches to
sit on. Most also have pull-down "blinds" made of rice-sack material to protect you from
water splashing in (as the boats sink fairly deep), though they're often ragged and don't do
much good (on the trip back, a local lady pulled down the shade to keep from getting
splashed — but as it was full of holes, it didn't do much good... we couldn't do anything but
move in a bit and smile at each other).
The trip to Penyenget takes only 15 minutes, and from your first step onto the
smaller island, you can feel its different atmosphere: nearby Bintan is noisy and bustling,
but smaller Penyenget is quiet and peaceful, with a coastline filled with with rows of
Indonesian-style homes on stilts. On the pier, I noticed plenty of trash washing up against
the shore, and took a picture of it: sadly, the environment is the last thing on most people's
minds here.
By now the day had turned hot, sunny, and humid, but I still enjoyed walking
around quite a bit: almost the first building you come to (right by the pier) is a beautiful
mosque (I'd later hear the mid-day prayers broadcast from here while walking around)... as I
had on shorts, a guy sitting outside warned me not to enter with such clothing (I wasn't
about to, only wanting to walk up the stairs a bit), so I motioned that I understood. Near
the mosque are plenty of old, arabic-style buildings built for the Sultans who once lived
here, including the old palace of Rajah Ali and the tombs of Rajah Ali and Rajah Jaafar.
Quiet and peaceful with no one about this morning, the buildings (surrounded by trees and
lush vegetation) were quite interesting to explore.
Continuing around the area I walked passed a school, as well as plenty of people just
sitting out in the shade of their porch watching the day go by. Meandering down the small
local pedestrian roads, the only "tout" I saw was a tri-shaw driver motioning he could give
me a ride... but once I smiled and shook my head, he didn't ask again (I later saw him
ferrying around some locals). People here are extremely friendly, and everyone from
teenagers to adults would say "hello" to me even if they spoke no other word of English.
Most locals in fact don't speak English, and when someone walking by would greet me with
"hello" and I'd answer them back, they'd often then continue in their own language, hoping
I'd understand. Still, there'd always be a smile and a friendly greeting rather than a frown,
and it really gave me a good feeling about the island. A bit later (while walking along some
of the houses by the water), I took my camera out to take a picture of the coastline... to be
respectful, I was careful not to get some locals sitting on their porches in the picture, but
was surprised when a group of 2 guys (outside one house) and 2 ladies (outside an opposite
house) laughed... one of the guys (just relaxing and trimming his moustache) waved hello,
and motioned that I should take his picture! Asking if it was OK, he nodded and brought
his friend and two young children next to him as I captured the shot. Thanking him, he and
his kids waved goodbye as I continued on.
Penyenget is somewhat rural, and it was nice to have the shade of the trees and
vegetation on this hot day. Walking past the various area homes, I noticed that while some
were of the traditional Indonesian style (with a "hairpin" roof), most were western style —
though many still had arabic motifs. There were also plenty of homes built on stilts, and
those by the shore were often built right over the water itself. I don't know how wealthy or
poor the island is compared with the rest of the country, but the homes here were all decent,
with many being quite nice... some were tiled, others had large TV satellite dishes... but even
those not so fancy were more than adequate. Most homes had laundry drying out on a line,
and there was always plenty of green — everything from palm trees to durians. I don't know
what Penyenget's main economy is (I suspect most people who live here have business on
nearby Bintan), but it certainly is a quieter, nicer place to live than Bintan, and I can
understand why those who live here want to.
Wandering around, I came to a large traditional Indonesian building off by itself
which looked as if it might be the local community center, though I heard rock music
coming from inside. At the shore, I saw how far out the waves were breaking, and knew I
had made the right decision in not going out to Trikora Beach (for I had read that when the
tide is low, it's pretty disappointing). Interestingly, I noticed plenty of cats around town, but
saw only one dog.
Finally walking back to the pier, I sat down in the covered waiting area to relax in the
breeze while waiting for a boat to take me back to Bintan. At first, I asked someone how
much a boat to Senggarang would be, but the answer was Rs20,000 (for a private boat, as
no one else wanted to go there directly). While waiting, I asked someone the time, noticing
the guy's watch appeared a few hours slow — only it was my watch that was wrong (his was
indeed correct as I later realized), and thinking it was 2 hours later than it really was, I
decided to forget about Senggarang and head back for Bintan. About 15 minutes later, six
locals came by wanting a ride to Bintan — enough for the boat to leave.
As with the boat ride from Bintan, the boat ride back was Rs2,000 — but knowing I
could always use smaller bills, I decided to stuff a Rs5,000 note into my pants pocket to give
the driver. When it was time to pay, I reached into my pocket to give him the bill... but
instead of giving me change, he then seemed to ask for more, indicating that I had only paid
him Rs1,000. Confused and beginning to think that he had switched bills on me, I took out
a Rs1,000 bill and said "two, right?" — to which he motioned yes, and that he needed the
other Rs1,000 bill. As he didn't speak any English, someone nearby who spoke some came
up and said "one more", pointing at my Rs1,000 bill. Thinking I was being scammed, I
politely but firmly replied that he owed me change, not the other way around. This went on
for about a minute, and though I knew I could have just walked away, I finally decided that
to me, the difference (Rs4,000/US43c) wasn't a lot of money... so I feigned sudden
understanding, apologized, paid the driver the other Rs1,000, and left feeling as if I had just
been fleeced. After the friendliness shown on Penyenget, this incident left me with a sour
taste in my mouth for the day — but that evening while on the ferry back to Singapore, I
found the Rs5,000 bill I had stuffed in my pocket, and realized I had indeed only given him a
Rs1,000 note by mistake at first. Thankful that I had decided to pay the additional Rs1,000
instead of just walking away (as the last thing I wanted to do was stiff someone), I
nonetheless felt bad inside for making the fuss, and wished I could once again apologize to
the driver.
Back on Pulau Bintan, I walked into the air-conditioned Wartel + Warnet office (the
government telephone and internet division) not too far from the docks. Here I bought a
cold 100 Plus soda (Rs4,000/US43c) as well as a 140-unit telephone card for
Rs38,000/US$4.09 (the Indonesian telephone cards are similar to the flimsy NTT cards in
Japan, and though expensive, are quite nice. Had I the money to spare, I would have
bought two — though in the end I never even used the one I bought, as finding a card phone
in the area was close to impossible).
Walking down the main street from the ferry terminal, I noticed how busy and
bustling everything was, especially after just having come from Penyenget. The streets were
clogged with a continuous stream of noisy, polluting motorbikes (this is no exaggeration — it
was quite difficult to cross the main street by the ferry terminal with the non-stop stream of
bikes), and lined with plenty of shops (mostly Chinese-owned) selling things of interest to
locals (watches, kid's backpacks, wallets, Pokemon toys, etc.) rather than souvenir items.
Plenty of stores also had clothes and fabric for sale, though I didn't really enter many shops
for a closer look.
While walking down a busy side-street, I noticed some food stalls selling pancakes
and decided to try one... surprised that a tourist was stopping at her stand, an older lady
seemed delighted to sell one to me (Rs1,000/US11c). The thick pancake was folded over,
and contained something which tasted like brown sugar, maple syrup and a bit of fruit in
the center. Though there were also stalls selling potato and banana chips, the pancake was
so good that I stopped at another stand to buy seconds. Above the streets, signs were hung
wishing people a Happy Chinese New Year in romanized Chinese, and down below plenty of
trash was strewn about (as well as people's spit — this isn't Singapore). The sidewalks were
uneven (with the areas in front of various stores often being different heights or sizes), but to
me this was more interesting than uniform, sanitized Singapore.
Finding the entrance to the Pasar Baru, I had a look inside the covered marketplace
("pasar" means "market"). Much of the market is devoted to foodstuffs, and while I noticed
some sacks with "Product of Thialand" printed on them, I'm sure many items (especially the
fruits) were grown locally. In one area a few vendors were selling chickens in cages, and
when I asked a young guy if I could take a picture, he motioned to wait a minute while he
opened a cage, took a rooster out, and proudly posed with it for the camera (much like the
man trimming his moustache on Penyenget, people here are friendly towards tourists, and
quite eager to have their pictures taken).
After looking around inside the marketplace, I returned to the normal streets of the
city. I did run into one con artist here, trying the same con as someone had tried in Kenya
the year before: seeing me walking down the street, a middle-aged Indonesian came up to
say "Oh, hi! Do you remember me?" (I just ignored him).
Coming to a Chinese temple, I stopped inside for a rest. While sitting down, an old
man came up to say how much he liked America, and opened a book (akin to a Chinese
Farmer's Almanac) to show me the two pages of Chinese/English translations it had inside.
From from temple I walked down the back alleys behind the businesses of the main street,
having a look at the hidden apartments where people lived. Coming back out, I found a nice
small hotel for anyone needing to stay in Tanjung Pinang for the night: the Chinese-run
Lesmina Hotel (Tel: 62-771-315000) is S$26/US$15.12 for an air-conditioned room, and
though I only saw the lobby (as I was just curious about their rates), the building seemed
brand new and clean.
Deciding to leave the downtown area, I walked in a different direction for a while (as if
continuing straight from the pier rather than turning left). Walking up a hill for the view, I
passed a Prodestant church before coming to a Catholic school (both of which I was
surprised to see here). Further up, the homes became nicer... and walking down to the
right, some passing kids greeted me hello (in a ravine behind one house I noticed piles of
trash that had just been dumped). A bit later, I suddenly heard a bunch of "Hello, Mister!"s
coming from somewhere... turning to look, I saw 5-6 young kids running out of their Muslim
school down below to wave hello to me (they had seen me from the window). When I
answered them and waved back, they continued to wave and smile as I passed.
With the heat and humidity and all the walking, I started to feel a bit tired. I knew
there were two Penguin ferries returning to Singapore that afternoon: one at 2:10pm and
one at 6:20pm... so I looked at my watch to see what time it was. Seeing the "4:30pm", I
first thought it was almost time to start heading back — until I suddenly remembered that
Indonesia wasn't an hour ahead of Singapore, but rather an hour behind! It was only
2:30pm, and I had just missed the 2:10pm ferry — meaning I'd have to wait another four
hours to catch the next one back to Singapore. Trying to figure out how I'd spend four more
hours in town, I walked to the top of the hill, where I found the Hotel Sadaap and its
informal outdoor restaurant on a nice grassy spot overlooking the water. Ordering a cold
water (Rs2,500/US27c, as the Cokes weren't cold) from the friendly young guys at the
register, I sat down at an outdoor table to relax and enjoy the cool breeze (the two sealed
water cups I had taken with me from the ferry were long since finished). In the distance I
heard the afternoon prayers start, and after a while I decided to head back down, wondering
if perhaps another company might offer an earlier ferry.
At the bottom of the hill, I walked along the coastal road before returning back to the
ferry terminal area. When I inquired about the ferry times back to Singapore at some ticket
offices, none of the agents mentioned Penguin, but said "5:00pm" or "6:00pm" (I had the
impression they weren't too sure themselves, though they had some timetables right there).
One agent said a ferry was scheduled to depart in just a few minutes... though I didn't have
a ticket, I hurridly walked onto the pier to see if it was too late — but indeed it was, as you
need time to clear customs. Walking back out again (to "taxi, sir!" yet again, even though I
had just come in), I decided to just take Penguin back, as the Penguin 6:20pm wasn't that
much later than the other 5:00pm or 6:00pm ferries.
Seeing the nearby air-conditioned Wartel + Warnet office again, I decided it might not
be such a bad idea to check my email... it would kill some time, be air-conditioned, and
would save me from having to do it later. Walking into the office, I noticed the different rates
posted: for a half-hour the rate is Rs8,000/US86c for tourists, Rs6,000/US66c for locals,
and Rs3,000/US32c for students (for an hour it's Rs15,000/US$1.62 for tourists,
Rs10,000/US$1.08 for locals, and Rs6,000/US66c for students). In an adjoining room was
a main terminal connected to three sub-terminals, and as the young man turned everything
on, he told me to sit down by one of the sub-terminals. While the connection worked, the
sub-terminals wouldn't allow "telnet" — so trying it out on the main terminal, I found out it
worked perfectly there, and asked the guy if I could use the main terminal instead (no
problem). Though I had originally planned to stay on for only a half-hour, with the slow
speed of the connection I wound up staying on for an hour (at Rs15,000/US$1.62). While
there, a local came in to use one of the other terminals... and seeing me type, came over to
comment that he had never seen anyone type so fast, and asked what country I was from.
When finished checking email, I decided to try to find some smaller bills to take home
as souvenirs (something I always do when travelling). Asking a money changer, he didn't
have enough Rs1,000 notes to give me, but kindly traded my Rs10,000 bill for two Rs5,000
ones. Looking at the post office in front of me, I thought I'd try asking in there just as a
longshot — but the employee actually gave me change in Rs1,000 and Rs500 notes without
any purchase.
Not sure how much the Indonesian departure tax was (as it's the one thing not
included on the pre-paid Penguin ticket), I walked back to the ferry terminal again to find
out (through the course of the day I must have walked this route more than a half-dozen
times, passing the touts and taxi drivers each time). On the pier, the official I asked didn't
know how much it was either (as it was still too early for the proper officials to be there yet),
so walking back out, I stopped at the Lippo Bank ATM to withdraw a bit more cash just to
be on the safe side (and the bills I wouldn't use, I'd keep as souvenirs).
After one last quick look around downtown, I walked back to the ferry terminal once
more just as the Penguin official arrived. Going through immigration early, I then had
plenty of time to sit upstairs in the terminal and relax. Looking through the duty-free shop,
I noticed how inexpensive everything was (even at a duty-free shop), though there was
honestly nothing I wanted to buy. Many of the souvenirs weren't even Inodnesia-themed
(models of cars or wooden American-Indian silhouettes), though there were a few items with
an Indonesian look... one item I almost picked up was a puppet of a traditional Indonesian
woman suspended inside a clear, round plastic case. Though it cost very little, I knew it
would get squashed in my backpack... so I decided just to buy a 100 Plus soda
(Rs5,000/US54c) and some snacks instead (two small packs of locally-made oreo clones...
the lemon-filled ones were great, but the strawberry-filled ones were disappointing). Sitting
at a table by the window I looked out at Pulau Bintan and enjoyed the incoming breeze. A
bit later I decided to look once more at the duty-free shop, but while doing so, the power
suddenly went off in the building (I don't know if it was a power failure or an intentional
blackout, for at that moment it was announced that the ferry was ready for boarding).
Walking up to the ferry, the Indonesian immigration official shook everyone's hand
goodbye... and inside, I sat by the window once again, even though it would soon be dark.
The trip back seemed to take longer than the trip out (perhaps because it was at
night), and about 30 minutes before arriving, rain began to fall quite hard (out the window I
could also see plenty of defused lightning). The same violent Hong Kong movie as this
morning was being shown on the TV, and as I had left my journal in the hotel (so it wouldn't
get lost), I didn't have much to do but count the minutes until we arrived back (noticing that
my second pocket Pooh notebook was now almost finished).
Back in Singapore, I waited for a bus for 15 long minutes in the light rain (watching
plenty of planes come in for a landing at nearby Changi Airport)... and finally a double-
decker Bus #35 came by — but as with this morning, I didn't have exact change on me (just
a S$1 coin). Transferring back to the MRT at the Tanah Merah station, I noticed a sign in
the train car mentioning some fines: S$1,000/US$581.40 for smoking, S$500/US$290.70
for eating or drinking, and S$5,000/US$2,906.98 for taking flammable liquid or gas on
board.
Back at the City Hall MRT station it was still raining... heading back to the hotel, I
stopped at 7-11 to buy a cold 7-11 bao (ugh) and soda water, but I really felt like having
soup. Most places in the area were closed already (or only serving coffee), but just by
chance I ran into a Japanese ramen restaurant: Kado-man. I ordered both plain ramen
(S$8/US$4.65) and takoyaki (breaded balls with octopus bits inside — also S$8/US$4.65 —
though the amount of fish inside was negligible). Though expensive and honestly only so-so,
the ramen was nonetheless hot and exactly what I felt like having, so it really hit the spot.
As I really hadn't eaten much all day, I was still hungry... so back by the hotel I decided to
visit the 24hr outside food stalls the old Chinese guy had recommended. At first I ordered a
local dish, but then changed my mind to a chicken sandwich with cheese (S$2.50/US$1.45)
to take back to the hotel. Arriving back at 10:40pm, I wrote in the journal and took a
shower — and didn't turn out the light until 1:25am.
Feb. 7: Singapore
Waking up at 7:00am, I was out the door by 7:20am on my way to the Lavendar
Street Car Park to buy a bus ticket to Melaka for tomorrow. The Melaka buses depart from
this car park (an outdoor parking area a few blocks from the Lavendar MRT station), and as
it's best to buy your ticket a day in advance (S$11/US$6.40 for a 4.5hr express bus), I was
there bright and early this morning.
From Lavendar Street I decided to walk back through the Arab part of town... the
Sultan Mosque looked quite impressive, though there was scaffolding surrounding the
building as renovation work was occuring. Walking past the many small storefronts of the
area, I was disappointed to see that the small, freshly-painted sterile buidings looked no
different than those found in Chinatown — and if not for the names on the shops, I wouldn't
even know I was in the Arab quarter. From their signs, the businesses here sold items such
as textiles and halal foods, but there's nothing about the place that sets it apart from other
areas of town.
Stopping to buy a pork bao on Ocean Road, I soon saw a young Chinese man dressed
in military fatigues using an ATM. Asking him about the army, I found out that it's
compulsary to serve for 2-2.5 years (depending on your level of education), followed by
reserve duty for up to 45 days a year (what he was currently doing).
As it was a pleasant morning I decided to walk next to Suntec Centre, a "self-
contained city" of 5 high-tech office skyscrapers which also houses Singapore's largest mall
containing over 200 shops. The complex is home to the International Convention and
Exhibition Centre, as well as the world's largest fountain (in the Guiness Book of World
Records for 1998) — but when I arrived there at 9:30am, everything was closed. Though
part of the shopping area resembles a typical upscale American mall, the one differnce is
that the stores here open late — when I asked people headed for the office towers what time
the shops would open, I was told 10:30am or 11:00am. What gives? In a country where
business is so important, don't shop owners realize how much more business they would
generate if they opened earlier? This puzzle wasn't just with Suntec, it was something to be
found all over Singapore: whether it be a department store, small boutique, or merely a little
stall, very few businesses opened before 11:00am.
Stopping to use one of the the phones in the lobby, I noticed they were all green
StarHub phones (a SingTel competitor)... and immediately I hated the company, and refused
to ever patronize them, as their phones would block calls even to 800 numbers unless you
bought one of their cards. I wanted to call the tourist information line to ask for suggestions
on things to do, but was out of luck, as every telephone in the area was a StarHub phone. I
then notice a sign advertising one attraction I decided not to try: Snow City — for
S$15/US$8.72, you're given an hour of playtime in "real" artifically-generated snow (the
price includes a jacket, boots, and snow-tube rental).
Deciding I'd return to Suntec later in the day (as there was no reason for me to be
there now), I headed off for the aerial car to Mt. Faber and Sentosa Island. Sentosa is a
huge amusement park built on an island of reclaimed land, with a Swiss-made aerial car
connecting it to the mainland. While I had no desire to visit Sentosa, the aerial car offers an
impressive view of the Singapore skyline and harbor between its three stops (Mt. Faber, the
World Trade Centre, and Sentosa), and is well worth the price. Figuring I should head for
the City Hall MRT station, I noticed a sign indicating an underground passageway to the
station, and entered Singapore's first underground shopping mall. Though the bright, clean
boutiques were all closed, at least it was air-conditioned, and other people were using it as a
walkway as well. Finally spotting a normal SingTel phone, I called the tourist information
line to ask how to get to the aerial car from where I was... the agent wasn't sure, and wound
up telling me the wrong bus numbers (I then called the river boat company to make sure
their boats were running today — they were).
As the agent suggested I head towards the Raffles Hotel, I walked up out of the
undergrond mall to find myself by the Westin Plaza and Westin Stamford Hotels: at 70
floors, the Westin Stamford is the hightest hotel in the world, but there's no access to a view
unless you pay for a room (coming back later to check at night, I was able to take the
elevator to the 63F, but there are no windows outside the rooms). This morning I stepped
into the Westin Plaza (thinking it was the Westin Stamford) to see a nice view of the city —
as here in the Plaza, there's a decent (though not spectacular) view available from the area
between the North and South towers on the 21F.
Leaving the hotel, I needed to find the bus to the World Trade Centre (the middle of
the aerial car's three stops, and the easiest stop to get to). After trying in vain to find one, I
walked back to the Raffles Hotel, where bus after bus came by — but each driver would tell
me it wasn't the correct bus (bus stop signs in Singapore aren't well thought-out: they list
some of the various destinations each bus goes to, but the World Trade Centre wasn't even
on the sign for the bus that actually goes there). Finally being told by a few drivers that I
needed Bus #100 (different than what I had been told by tourist information), a driver
informed me that I'd need to wait on the other side of the street — except I couldn't see a
bus stop there, and it took a few minutes to cross and actually find the darn thing. After
waiting about 10 minutes, a Bus #100 came by and I boarded it (S$0.80/US47c — S$0.70 if
paying with a farecard). On board the bus was a sign which read: "no smoking, no
food/drinks, no littering, no durians — maximum fine S$1,000 or collective work order."
Finally arriving at the World Trade Centre (an ugly area serving the cargo industry
with plenty of construction going on), I walked a bit until arriving at the building where you
board the aerial car (obvious, as the car goes right through the top floor of it). A 4-segment
fare (so you can go WTC -> Mt. Faber, Mt. Faber -> WTC, WTC -> Sentosa, and Sentosa ->
WTC) is S$6.90/US$4.01 — but unless you want to spend time on Sentosa as well, be sure
to make it clear that you want to be charged only for the aerial car and not for admission to
Sentosa (the lady ticket agent — who had a voice like a man's — charged me for both, even
though I said "aerial car only please" — and had to then subtract the S$6 Sentosa
admission).
Even though it can be a hassle to get to and the ride isn't that long, the aerial car is
still worth the trip: the view is fantastic, and you can see both the downtown skyline as well
as the port area (spread out before you are the hundreds of "dinosaur" cranes which offload
cargo from the ships). Unless it's crowded you'll be given a car to yourself, with a running
audio commentary in your choice of languages (you can also choose silence) explaining the
sights around you. The windows don't roll down of course, but usually one of the side
windows is open a little, and an employee at the World Trade Centre station constantly
cleans the windows of each car as it comes in.
Taking the car first from WTC-Mt. Faber, I got out to walk around for a few minutes
(allowed at any stop), heading down a path for a better view. In the distance were dozens of
Singapore's trademark apartment blocks, where 90% of its residents live... and unlike such
high-density housing in other contries, they aren't squalid or run-down, but clean, tidy, and
well kept-up (often painted in interesting colors or motifs). After walking around and talking
to a British couple, I got back on the aerial car... the car this time wasn't the best (not only
was the audio system broken, but one of the windows was scratched)... so at the WTC, I
decided to switch cars. Continuing onto Sentosa, I had a look at the giant amusement park
from above: as Singapore's answer to Disneyland, the island is split into various areas with
different themes... and though quiet now, the park can become quite busy during holiday
periods. Not interested in getting out though, I continued on back to the World Trade
Centre. In the distance I could see Jurong Island with its oil refineries... Singapore is one of
the largest oil refining countries in the world, and the Jurong Island refineries supply almost
all of Asia. Looking back at the skyline and all the cargo cranes, the audio commentary
mentioned that the Port of Singapore services over 80,000 ships a year — with one arriving
or departing every 3 minutes.
Finished with the aerial car, I bit the bullet and paid S$1.50 for a Coke from a World
Trade Centre station machine before leaving the building. Noticing yet another ad for KFC's
S$0.50 soft-serve cones, I saw a small shopping complex attached to the World Trade Centre
with a McDonald's, and asked someone if there was a KFC nearby. Being told there was one
in the building next door, I walked there only to see no KFC in sight. Finally asking
someone else, I was told it was actually a 5 minute walk out the back — so I decided to
forget it and just wound up getting a pre-packed S$0.80/US47c McDonald's chocolate ice-
cream cup. Starting to eat it as I walked towards the bus stop (using an overpass, as
construction for the new MRT line below made it impossible to cross the street), the bus
came by almost immediately — and with no eating on the bus (strictly enforced in
Singapore), I put the cup back into the bag and hoped it wouldn't melt too quickly (at least
the bus was air-conditioned). Inside, a middle-aged Chinese guy started up a conversation
with me... he had attended school in Pittsburgh, and when he found out I was from
California, wanted to know if CitiBank had a large presence there, or if it was mostly an
east-coast bank (he was currently on his way to a local CitiBank branch).
Getting off the bus by the river (and finishing my ice-cream), I went to take a
riverboat cruise. Though I usually don't go for such touristy things, the price wasn't bad
(S$10/US$5.81 for 30 minutes) and it would allow me a good view of the city's skyscrapers
(a hobby of mine) — not to mention enjoying a nice breeze out on the water. The riverboats
cruises leave from Clark Quay every 15 minutes, and heading down to the Quay area, I
walked past rows of shuttered cafes and shops lining the riverbank which would open later
in the day. Buying my ticket, I sat down to wait in the hot weather for about 10 minutes
until a boat was ready to leave. At first I was the only one on board, though just as we were
about to depart, a middle-aged white South African couple joined me.
The boats are small unassuming little motorboats with benches and a covered top...
our driver today was an elderly Chinese man who didn't speak much English, but as the
ships all have audio systems which play a pre-recorded running commentary about the
various sights you're seeing, there wasn't much need for him to speak to us (a small chime
tells the driver to stop the tape until arriving at the next location). Though nothing special,
the cruise was nonetheless an enjoyable way to relax and cool off, with some nice views of
the skyline up close (though the Merlion statue still wasn't spouting any water). The old
driver would occasionally motion at a good place to take a picture, and as well as using an
entire roll of film on the city's skyscrapers during the 30 minute trip, I also enjoyed speaking
with the South African couple about everything from the low value of the rand to their recent
elections.
When finished at the river, I decided to find the 30F UOB Building observation deck
the tourist information line had mentioned while the weather was still holding (a bit cloudy
now, it was still good enough for viewing). Walking through the downtown area with its
skyscrapers, I entered the OUB Building by mistake. However this actually turned out to be
a good thing, for there are some nice views from the OUB Building as well: thinking it was
the UOB Building, I didn't even bother to ask the security guard downstairs where the
viewing area was, and just headed for the 38F (as it would be higher than the 30F). Many of
the floors in this building are occupied by Exxon/Mobil, but there are windows by the lifts
on each one, and with the way the building is set up, you won't even be noticed unless
someone enters or leaves one of the various offices. Though the view was only in one
direction, it was still quite nice, and I wound up taking a few pictures. When finished, I
went down to the lobby and found the lifts on the other side... these go up to the 60F
(without a special key you're able to go up to the 58F), and the view was even better (the
offices here were for Swiss Re Life and Health).
Not having seen any notice of a public observation deck in the building, I finally
asked the security guard on the way out about it — and he mentioned that it was in the
nearby UOB (United Overseas Bank) Building, not the OUB (Overseas Union Bank) Building.
Walking out to enter the correct office tower this time, I found that the public viewing area
isn't on the 30F as the tourism office tells people, but rather the 38F: the 38F is the transfer
point between the lifts for the lower and higher floors, and there's a large public viewing area
here covering half the building. On the 60F is a restaurant with a nice view (open to the
public), but it's expensive, and they don't allow anyone inside who's not going to dine (the
place was packed almost exclusively with Japanese tourists having lunch).
Leaving the UOB Building for one of the more interesting skyscrapers of Singapore, I
took the lifts inside the new (1998) Republic Plaza Building. There's a restaurant on the 62F
I had a quick look at ("The Tower Club"), but it's for members only, and I was quickly
stopped. Having a look at a few random floors on the way down, I was disappointed to see
no windows outside the offices, and the lifts in full view of everyone (a shame, as it's an
interesting building with probably some great views).
With my skyscraper hopping now finished, I wanted to head away from downtown
and go out to see suburban Singapore, where most of the country's residents live (most
tourists tend to think of Singapore only as the downtown area, but downtown is only one
small part of the country). Though I had planned to do this from the start on my own, I
actually found the same suggestion while browsing through the Lonely Planet last night
(nice to know we think alike), with the book recommending a stop at the Tampines MRT
station not only for the typical apartment block scene (actually the stop before Tampines
[Simei] has more apartment blocks), but for some "local" shopping centers as well.
Taking the MRT out to Tampines, the first part of the trip was a repeat from
yesterday (as the ferry terminal stop of Tanah Merah is on the way), though it was still
interesting to look out the windows once again. The suburbs here are filled with the colorful
high-density housing blocks (hundreds of them), rows and rows of identical townhomes
right next to each other, and every now and then neighborhoods with small, compact private
houses with tiny yards. Every once in a while a stretch of green appeared, though a sign
next to one read "State Land: No Playing of Football." There are also plenty of large schools
for the different neighborhoods (all clean and modern), with some displaying banners
touting their high scores or recent victories.
At Tampines there are two adjoining malls: Golden Village and Century Park, and
while they aren't anything special, they're typical of where most Singaporeans shop. With it
now being sunny, hot, and humid, I wound up looking around in them from 3:00pm-
4:15pm... with the feel of an American mall, they were soon filled with hundreds of kids in
school uniform just out of class hanging out, eager to buy the latest fashion or fad from a
trendy shop. Entering the Golden Village Mall first, the Fair Price Supermarket in the
basement had cheaper prices than the stores downtown, and I wound up buying six Shige
Kicks for S$1.95/US$1.13 and two 250ml orange juices for S$0.60/US35c each (though the
240ml containers were originally attached as "bonus" containers to larger ones, the store
was selling them separately for a cheap price). Nearby was a food court (I bought a
doughnut and cheese pastry), and the mall also contains an 8-plex cinema. The Century
Park Mall next door was similar, with another good supermarket/food court area in the
basement (sample prices: 5 Sunkist California oranges: S$2.90/US$1.69, 5 green apples:
S$1.90/US$1.10, and a can of soda: S$0.65/US38c), and featured a Metro department store
as well as plenty of individual shops on the upper levels. In one shop, I found legitimate
VCDs of "Tonari no Totoro" and "Kimagure Orange Road Memorial" (Japanese animation) for
S$10/US$5.81, and back in the Golden Village Mall again, found the complete 12-VCD set
of "Kimagure Orange Road" at Disc Megamart for S$36/US$20.93 (the same set was later
S$44 at another shop).
At 4:15pm I left to take the MRT back to town, and while waiting, noticed a sign
indicating a S$5,000/US$2,907 fine for going onto the tracks (as Tampines was an outside
station, the tracks weren't protected by glass). Taking the train back to City Hall, I
transferred to a train for Sommerset Station (located in the middle of Orchard Road), where
it was cloudy and humid. Not being too interested in Orchard Road itself, I returned to the
area today simply so I could take a few pictures in better light (as I had walked around the
area at dusk two nights ago). However there really wasn't much more to take pictures of, so
I wound up spending a bit of time looking for T-shirts and keychains. Many shops were
running a 3-for-S$10/US$5.81 special on T-shirts, but they all seemed to be out of the good
ones in "M"... so I settled for buying a slurpee at a 7-11 (there must be at least a dozen 7-
11s along Orchard Road).
Walking back, I noticed the police controlling traffic for minute while some dipolmatic
cars drove into Istana (the home of Singapore's President). Asking a policeman what was
going on, he replied "if I am not wrong, I believe it is the Prime Minister of Mongolia" (this
wasn't correct though, for the next day I read in the paper that the Deputy Prime Minister of
Malaysia visited to discuss relocating a railroad station... and in the evening — about the
time I was outside — a delegation of 40 young Malaysian leaders were visiting with their
Singaporean counterparts at Istana to meet each other, interact, and have dinner).
A few minutes later I ran into something which made me glad I decided to come back
to Orchard Road: though I didn't realize it at the time, today was the Indian holiday of
Thaipusam (as well as Chinese Valentine's Day, as I later found out) — and all along Penang
Road (which is close and somewhat parallel to Orchard Road) was a procession of Indian
men making a pilgrimage between two area temples (starting at the Sri Srinivasa Perumal
Temple on Serangoon Street and ending at the Sri Thendayuthapani Temple on Tank Road,
4kms later). The men were wearing kavadis (decorative head gear suspended with spikes
that pierce the stomach), and as the police kept vehicular traffic to one lane (controlling
pedestrians crossing at the intersections), the men walked down Penang Road (now lined
with spectators and well-wishers).
Not sure what was happening, a white lady informed me that it was Thaipusam
today... and later asking some Indians who had come out to watch and cheer the
participants on, was told that the holiday is celebrated by Indians all over the world on the
same day ("from India to Britain"), and is a day when men take, and promise to fulfill their
vows. Though a policeman said the walk "began in the morning and would last until
10:00pm," one Indian gentleman I spoke with said that it actually began at 1:00am and
would end late tonight. Every few minutes a man wearing a kavadi would walk down the
street (usually accompanied by a few friends), and as he'd pass, those in the crowd would
cheer him on.
After watching for about 20 minutes, I continued my walk back, this time going
through the part of Ft. Canning Park I had skipped the other day (past some gravesites of
important historical figures, as well as the local drama school). Back near the hotel area, I
headed for Coleman and Northbridge to look for T-shirts — and found one of the cheapest
shops in town: the ABC Bargain Centre. Though the shop sells only miscellaneous
merchandise (little souvenirs, cheap watches, food, etc.) the sign outside advertising the
lowest prices in town isn't a lie: the cold sodas in back were only S$0.50/US29c
(S$0.60/US35c for 100 Plus), and a 4-pk of Mentos was only S$1.90/US$1.10.
Buying some Mentos and a soda, I walked to Suntec City again for a look at its shops
and fountain. The first thing I did was head for the food court though... unlike food courts
in Malaysia, most ones in Singapore are immaculate and bright, complete with brushed
steel counters and neon signs showing pictures of the various food items available (I opted
for some Hokkien Fried Noodles and a few pork dumplings).
After dinner I went to have a look at the world's biggest fountain... the Suntec
Fountain is quite impressive, with both an arc that throws water down as well as ground
jets that shoot water up — and though it's not the highest as far as the shooting water is
concerned, it's the highest in terms of its actual structure (reading a sign about it outside
later, it said that many people come to the fountain for luck — and if you walk around it for
a certain length of time, it's supposed to bring good fortune). There are nightly laser-light
shows at the fountain, and shortly before 8:00pm I walked out to the viewing area to sit
down and wait while a young Indian lady DJed tunes on the PA system. At 8:00pm the
laser-light show began, and it was quite nice: for 8 minutes, ever-changing colored
spotlights were projected onto the fountain, with multiple lasers reflecting animated images
off the water's fine mist (forming moving people, animals, aliens, birds, dinosaurs, and other
assorted characters).
When finished I headed back to the hotel, but stopped in a the Westin Stamford to
see if there was a view (as mentioned earlier, there wasn't). Back at the corner of
Northbridge and Coleman around 9:30pm, I stopped at the "Shop Inn" clothing store next to
the ABC Bargain Centre to buy an Arnold Palmer "umbrella" polo shirt for
S$19.90/US$11.57.
Close to the hotel I suddenly realized I had too much S$ on me (back at Suntec, I had
used and ATM to get a bit more S$ — at the time not noticing the S$50 bill I had tucked
away in my passport). As I'd be leaving for Malaysia tomorrow, I wanted to change some of
the excess S$ into RM or US$, but asking at two hotels near the Mayfair City Hotel, none
would change S$ into anything (only willing to change other currencies into S$). The lady at
one of the hotels suggested trying a nearby money changer, but he was already closed, and
I'd be leaving early in the morning tomorrow.
Back at the Mayfair City Hotel at 10:00pm, I paid the old man for the last two nights
of the room and went upstairs to write a bit in the journal.
Feb. 8: Melaka (Malaysia) / Kuala Lumpur
Up at 6:50am, I was out the door by 7:00am. Running into the old man up on the
2F, I showed him how I had left a few items I would no longer need in the room (including a
polo T-shirt and a little-used towel), and by 7:10am I was on the MRT headed for Lavendar
Station. While walking the short distance to the Laveendar Street Car Park, I stopped in at
a Shell petrol station to pick up a newspaper (The Straits Times), an Orangina, and a water.
Each ticket for the 8:00am Melaka bus had a seat number on it, and though I first
sat in the correct one, I soon moved towards the back where there were plenty of empty
seats. Cloudy but with a bit of sun outside, the bus drove through the heart of "real"
Singapore (ie, the suburbs), passing one high-density housing block after another in endless
succession. Going through Jurong, there were joggers running along a grass strip, a
colorful neighborhood school, and plenty more apartment blocks... at least we were headed
out of town though, and weren't stuck in the bumper-to-bumper traffic of the rush-hour
commuters headed into downtown.
In 40 minutes we were at the Singapore/Malaysia border, where everyone got off to
go through immigration. With few people crossing that morning we were finished with the
Singapore side in a matter of minutes, and soon re-boarded the bus to cross a bridge into
Malaysia. There, immigration was also fast, and "customs" consisted only of two Malay
ladies chatting with each other.
Finished with the borders by 9:15am, I was now back in Malaysia, where much of the
land appeared undeveloped (unlike nearby Singapore), with plenty of grass and weeds, and
an occaional large palm tree plantation.
While reading the Straits Times on the bus, I found out about the Malaysian
delegation visiting at Istana, as well as yesterday's double holiday (with lots of information
given about Thaipusam and Chinese Valentines Day). For Thaipusam, it mentioned that
16,000 people took part in the processional, with 1,200 devotees wearing kavadis and 7,500
carrying milk pots. The holiday is a time for believers to fulfil vows they have made, seek
forgiveness, or offer thanks to Lord Murugan (a Hindu deity representing virtue, youth, and
power). The holiday (which falls on a full-moon day in the Tamil month of Thai) has been
celebrated in Singapore for 150 years, and leaders of other religious faiths were also invited
to attend. The story on Chinese Valentines Day mentioned that it was tradition for young
ladies wishing to find a good husband to throw oranges into the river, and included some
interviews with various young women on whether or not they took part in the ritual.
Another story in the paper concerned Singapore's Social Development Unit (the state
matchmaking agency — a unit of the government which provides opportunities for singles to
meet one another). The story mentioned that for the first time, the SDU would start
advertising (in the Straits Times and elsewhere), with ads touting some of the agency's
success stories (one such story was the marriage of a local 29-year-old Chinese woman [a
public servant] to a 30-year-old permanent resident originally from Australia. The lady
wasn't ashamed to have her story told, and mentioned that it makes for great conversation
at parties whenever she tells people how she and her husband first met with the aid of the
SDU). According to the paper, the SDU arranges over 800 activities a year, ranging from
trips to self-development courses, to sports and dance lessons.
One part of the paper was a humorous look at "Break-Boy Wanna-Bes", with
columns on how and where to try everything from break-dancing to tagging (grafitti) — as
well as your success probabiliby for each endeavor. For grafitti, the article "recommended"
HDB (high-density housing blocks), MRT cars, and automobiles — though under the column
of "chances of pulling it off", listed "zero, because of the police" (under the column of "props
required", it said "you're not going to carry it off, are you? Remember Michael Fay?")
At 10:15am we turned off the main highway, and at 10:20am stopped at a pre-
determined rest stop with a food stall and market. Buying a package of Toasties corn
snacks (RM2.20/US58c), I asked the Chinese guy at the register if they took S$, and found
out that I could exchange my S$ for RM at a 1:2 rate (receiving RM64 for my S$32 instead of
the RM71 I'd receive at a bank). Though the rate wasn't that great, the difference still wasn't
all that much (RM7/US$1.84), so I decided to change all my remaining S$ here.
After the 20 minute stop, we continued down the main highway for the rest of the
forgettable, boring drive. For most of the trip there isn't much to see other than weeds and
palm trees (the main highway bypasses a lot of towns), but as we began to approach the
general Melaka area, businesses began sprouting up along the side of the road. Just before
arriving at the Melaka bus station, the driver pulled into a petrol station to re-fuel the bus,
wasting 12 minutes instead of letting the passengers off first (he was also smoking a
cigarette right next to the pumps). When finished, he drove the last 2 minutes to the station
and dropped everyone off at 12:40pm.
The first thing I did off the bus was buy a ticket for the rest of the journey onto KL
later that afternoon, choosing a 4:15pm departure time ("be here at 4:00pm" I was told).
Though the ticket said RM7.90, I was charged RM8/US$2.11... and upon asking if there was
a place to leave my luggage, I was told to see the guy next door (a nice older Chinese guy
selling tickets for other cities who will watch your luggage for RM1/26c a day — though he
won't keep anything overnight).
Walking down Jalan Bunga Raya towards downtown, I passed plenty of small shops
on both sides of the road (though I didn't spend the time to look inside them now). A bit
later, I came to a nice modern church before walking past some maroon-painted buildings to
enter the historic town center. Melaka was once occupied by both the Portugese and the
Dutch, and some of the original buildings from the 1600s (including the maroon-colored
Christ Church and Stadthuys) still remain. While having a quick look inside the old Christ
Church, Muslim prayers (in Arabic) started up outside, and it was interesting to hear them
while standing in a 1600s Christian church.
The old Stadthuys building has a fantastic museum (probably the best in Malaysia)
with displays and exhibits covering everything from daggars to traditional musical
intruments to Melakan history, as well as numerous paintings and life-size diaramas
(including a mock-up of a traditional Melaka kampung house). The museum's only
drawback is that photography isn't allowed inside — but even if you're not "into" museums,
this one (at only RM2/US53c) is definitely worth your time. Though you can literally spend
hours here, my limited time only afforded me a quick walk-through — though I still
managed to take in quite a bit from all the different displays on its two floors (the 2F
concentrates on Melakan history). Every exhibit has a placard in both Malay and English,
so understanding what's being displayed is never a problem... and one of the best exhibits in
the museum is a set of displays showing the traditional wedding ceremonies of some of the
native peoples of the area (including those partially descended from Portugese settlers). On
hot days it can get a bit stuffy (even in the 2F rooms with windows), as the only area with
air-con is the kampung room... but it's such an interesting museum that you won't even
mind.
Leaving the museum, I walked up a nearby hill to the remains of Bukit St. Paul's
Church (originally built by the Portugese in 1521)... rennovations were currently taking
place (with too much scaffolding around for a decent picture), though from the hilltop I
could see Pulau Melaka, a new RM2 billion offshore resort island built on reclaimed land.
Walking back to the center of town, I used the public toilets (RM0.20/US5c) before heading
off to explore the area's Chinatown.
While nothing out of the ordinary, Melaka's Chinatown is nevertheless interesting to
walk through, with lots of antique (junk) shops lining the narrow roads and plenty of old
buildings to pique your interest. It also happens to be home to Malaysia's oldest Chinese
temple: the Cheng Hoon Teng Temple, built in 1645 (though recently rennovated). The
English-speaking staff was quite welcoming of tourists, eager to explain some of the various
rituals taking place (such as the sticks and fortunes) to anyone who asked. There were a
number of European and American tour-bus groups walking around that afternoon, but
even if you're not with a group, the staff will go out of their way to answer any questions you
might have (even handing out little pieces of chocolate to visitors for good luck).
Turning to walk down a side street, I stopped at a small store to buy a popsicle... the
old Chinese lady running it was sleeping in the hot afternoon, but woke up as I bought one
from her (it was so hot that I soon returned to buy another, as they had the cheapest prices
in town).
Walking back along Jalan Bunga Raya (the main, modern street of the city stretching
between the old part of town and the area by the bus station), I decided to stop in a few
stores that I had walked past earlier. The watch shops here were selling knockoff Casio
watches labelled as "CASIQ" instead of "CASIO"... and in a corner shop (with prices clearly
marked), I found the same Casio watch I had seen at Mustafa (in Singapore) a few days
earlier. The Chinese-run store was asking RM29/$7.63 for the watch — the exact same
price in US$ (almost to the penny) that Mustafa had asked for it (S$13). Deciding just to
buy the darn thing (a nice analog watch with a 24hr dial), I picked one up and headed back
to the bus station.
Stopping in at one of the many shops by the station, I bought two doughtnuts at a
bakery as well as a soda nearby (passing a few touts trying to sell me tickets and taxi rides).
Collecting my baggage from the old Chinese guy (who was just about to leave — though
someone else would have looked after the bags), I saw a sign on the ticket window saying
that the 4:10pm bus was now sold out, with the next available one being at 5:45pm. When
the bus left at 4:20pm though, I noticed plenty of empty seats — but that soon changed as
the bus turned out not to be an express to KL as promised, but a slow one taking the busy
streets and stopping along the way to pick up passengers. The bus didn't enter the
expressway until one full hour into the trip, and spent most of that hour in heavy traffic on
one-lane surface streets in order to pick up passengers at other stops (the driver also
seemed more concerned with changing radio stations than watching the road). On one level,
this little detour was nice in that the view outside was more interesting than the boring
scenery available from the expressway — but by now I was anxious to return to KL, and I
didn't like the thought that I'd be arriving into KL later than planned. Still, I managed to see
plenty of traditional kampung houses along the road that first hour, and somehow made the
best of it. The worst part about the trip though was that the bus had been over-sold: at the
second stop, two more people had been sold tickets than there were seats. At first the two
young Malay ladies without seats stood in the aisle, though after a while some people in
front squished in, sitting 3-in-a-row-of-2 for the rest of the trip. Though there were a few
Chinese on the bus, most passengers seemed to be young Muslim ladies in their late teens
or early 20s, with many probably being college students. After the 2nd stop we finally went
onto the expressway — at which point the driver turned off the radio and turned on the VCD
player (hooked up to a TV monitor for the passengers), starting the James Bond movie "The
World Is Not Enough" somewhere in the middle.
Arriving into KL at 6:45pm, we were forced to stop at a busy intersection just a few
blocks shy of the Puduraya Bus Station for what seemed like eternity, as police let traffic
from the other direction flow for two consecutive cycles. Finally we were allowed to move,
and arrived back at the Puduraya Bus Station at 7:00pm (the station I'd pass on my walks
from Chinatown back to the Jalan Alor area).
Walking along the sidewalk (complete with streetlights) up to the Jalan Bukit
Bintang/Jalan Alor area, I soon arrived at the Hotel Nova. Earlier in the day I had phoned
the hotel from Melaka to let them know I would indeed be coming, as the internet hotel
broker said the reservation would expire if I didn't show up by 6:00pm (I also called the
Seasons View a few days ago to cancel my reservation there... nothing was wrong with the
Seasons View, but I was able to get a good rate at the Hotel Nova — which is just 2 minutes
walk down the same street — and just wanted to try someplace new). The current rate at
the Malaysian-Chinese run Hotel Nova was RM105/US$27.63, but I managed to get an
internet rate of RM95/US$25 (including all taxes and breakfast).
Checking into the hotel, I asked for a room which wouldn't face Jalan Alor (as the
street remains busy through the night), and was given room #910, a nice large room with a
safe-deposit box and a good view of a quiet street. Setting my bags down, I left to walk to
Chinatown for dinner, going via Jalan Pudu and Jalan Hang Tuah (for some reason I always
wound up walking to Chinatown this way, but returning by way of the Puduraya Bus
Station, along another part of Jalan Pudu). With the sidewalk closed for a stretch due to
road work, I was careful to watch out for cars... and down a side street, I called up my
sister's in-laws (who live in KL) to say hello before reaching Chinatown.
Stopping once more at the cook-your-own-skewer restaurant, I had a wonderful
dinner (including abalone) for RM12/US$3.16... and while walking along the sidewalks of
the stall-filled streets, found a shop selling older CD-ROMs for RM2/US53c (I picked up 3,
though I didn't really have a use for them).
Walking back from Chinatown, I decided to have a look around Bukit Bintang for a
bit... and back at the hotel, I re-arranged everything in the bags after writing in my journal.
A bit later, I went out to buy some soda water from the cheaper independent convenince
store across from the 7-11 (just down from the Seasons View) before returning back to
watch a bit of TV.
Feb. 9: Kuala Lumpur
Waking up today at 7:20am, I didn't need to be in any particular hurry, as most
businesses would be closed until the late morning. Skipping the hotel breakfast, I went out
walking the streets of KL again at 8:15am.
This morning I decided to cover some of the same ground I had earlier in the trip,
walking up Jalan Pudu to Jalan Raja Laut and Jalan Ipoh before heading out towards the
Batu Caves along Jalan Ipoh (though this time I was headed in the opposite direction as my
walk returning from the Caves back in December). Passing the various tile and bath shops,
I also came upon two very nice Indian temples and stopped inside them for a look. There
really wasn't a reason for walking this route again except I just felt like going out walking...
a bit after passing the Ford dealership, I turned around to return back.
On the way back, I decided to walk past the Putra World Trade Centre... as there's
not too much there (it's more of a meeting/exhibition center), I was going to check out the
shopping mall across the street — but then I noticed the Malaysian Tourist Information
Office inside. Stopping in to ask the hours of the Petronas Towers, the lady behind the desk
gave me the usual cold shoulder, actually giving priority to incoming telephone calls rather
than the one person in her office — me. When I asked if Petronas would be open to the
public today, she said "yes" to brush me off — but as I knew many places close mid-day on
Fridays, I then asked specifically if Petronas would close in the afternoon. Finally taking out
a book and looking up the correct schedule, she casually mentioned that it would close at
12:15pm (it was now 10:45am)... if I hadn't specifically asked her about it closing early, I
would have missed my one last chance to see the building. The lady suggested taking a taxi
there (as one needs a reservation time to enter the Sky Bridge), and though I wanted only to
walk the city this morning, I now had no choice but to go outside and catch a cab.
Having never taken a taxi in KL before, when one pulled up in front of the World
Trade Centre, I asked the driver if he'd use the meter (otherwise I'd refuse to get in)... when
he said "yes", I entered and sat down in front. Pulling away, he hadn't yet turned the meter
on... as I once again reminded him to use the meter he became quite irritated, saying "yes, I
will use the meter... why do you keep asking?" Seeing him turn the meter on, I replied
"sorry, but I just came from Penang" (where taxi drivers are notorious for refusing to use
their meters). Understanding, his anger subsided as he said "Ah, well in KL we all use the
meters." Driving me through the city, the middle-aged Malay asked where I was from, and
beamed with pride as he talked about his country's economy and achievements (such as
building the Petronas Towers), commenting that Malaysia has it all — oil, electronics,
agriculture, manufacturing — and that if one sector has a temporary slump, other sectors
can be relied upon. While passing some of the unfinished monorail columns, I asked him
about the stalled project... his response was that yes, the monorail project had stopped
when the economy turned bad, but has since started up again (and sure enough, walking
back from Petronas later that morning, I passed a crew working on the pillars).
The taxi ride from Putra World Trade Centre to the Petronas Tower was only
RM4/US$1.05, and just a few minutes later I was at the Towers once again, re-visiting them
from December. With most sections of the Towers closed to the general public, the only area
you're allowed to visit above ground is the Sky Bridge, which connects the two towers on the
41F (while up on the Sky Bridge I noticed a restaurant on the 41F of the other tower, but
was told it wasn't open to the public). Walking inside the lobby, a lady behind a desk
handed me a free entrance ticket with an exact time on it, telling me I should assemble at
the bottom of the nearby escillator in a few minutes (tourists are taken up in groups every
15 minutes, and are allowed 10-12 minutes before being ushered back down).
Downstairs you must go through a security check and x-ray machine (with better
security here than at Malaysia's airports), and are given a color-coded badge identifying you
as being with a particular time's group. Lining the walls of the waiting area are pictures and
the story of how the Petronas Towers were built, as well as some general information on
Petronas (Malaysia's national oil company). It was interesting to note that there were
lightning problems during construction (with a few workers losing their lives) — and that the
Sky Bridge we would soon be on was completely assembled before being lifted and lowered
into place between the two towers.
When it was time for our group to go up, a security guard escorted us in an elevator,
letting us wander around the Sky Bridge for about 12 minutes (the bridge is very steady,
with nice views of the city — though the 41F really isn't all that high). At the other end of
the bridge was a security guard making sure we didn't leave the group... and seeing only
tourists around, I wondered if anyone in the offices actually uses the thing or not. Though
there isn't much to keep you occupied, I waited to see if I could stay longer — but when it
was time for our group to go, the guard counted the number of people before calling out to
me that it was time to return.
While looking at the informational walls on the way out, I noticed that the Towers are
the home of the city's main concert hall, where the Petronas-sponsored Malaysian
Philharmonic Orchestra performs. Being a violinist myself (and having heard about the
orchestra's formation a few years back), I had to check it out... sure enough, the hall is
located in the space between the two towers, and though I wasn't able to look inside, I did
speak to one of the ladies at the indoor ticket counter (asking for an old program to peruse
the names). I also asked a few questions about the hall itself (it seats 800), and found out
that tonight's concert would include the Nutcracker Suite and Mendelssohn's Symphony No.
3. When I mentioned to the lady that I was a violinist, she nodded... but with me standing
there in shorts and sandals, I wondered if she believed me.
Leaving the Petronas Towers, I walked back to the Jalan Chow Kit area via Jalan
Ampang and Jalan Sultan Ismail. The area around Jalan Chow Kit is a good place to find
watches, textiles, clothing, and other miscellaneous items at good prices (I decided to do a
bit of watch shopping today, though while walking around I also picked up a colorful polo
shirt for RM9.90/US$2.61).
Looking at Q+Q watches (as they're cheap, but have decent Japanese movements in
them), most shops in town were selling the analog styles for RM49-RM79... in this area most
did as well, but a few shops stood out as being cheaper — with the best being "Mydin
Wholesale Emporium" on Jalan TAR (Jalan Tuanku Abdul Rahman) in the Stanford Hotel
area, just across the street from the Shell petrol station. As with the Mustafa Centre in
Singapore, Mydin had every item clearly marked with a price much less than you'd get
elsewhere even after haggling. The exact same Q+Q watches that were RM40-
RM50/US$10.53-US$13.16 elsewhere were RM15/US$3.95 here... those that were
RM59/US$15.53 elsewhere were RM24/US$6.32 here... and a nice model with day & date
which was selling for RM79/US$20.79 at all the other shops was RM36/US$9.47 here.
Other than watches, Mydin also stocked a lot of junky electronics (a Chinese "Sunny"
shortwave radio was just RM15/US$3.95), and it's only a shame they didn't carry better
brands (one interesting item was a Muslim Talking Prayer Watch for RM39.90/US$10.50 —
to remind you of prayer time).
There's no food or drink allowed inside Mydin, and you must check your bags... as I
had just bought a popsicle from the Shell mart across the street (RM0.70/US18c), the guard
gave me a plastic bag to place it in, as I checked it at the front along with my daypack
(luckily it didn't melt). I refused to check my camera however, and just wore it around my
neck while in the store (not easy, as the aisles were quite crowded). Undecided about how
many watches to buy, I asked the lady behind the counter to set a few different models aside
for me, telling her I'd return after using an ATM outside (I first wanted to look around
elsewhere in hopes of finding other stores as cheap... but in the end, none would be able to
match Mydin's prices).
Leaving Mydin, I walked around the area (by Jalan TAR and Jalan Haji Taib) for over
an hour, making it as far as the Pan Pacific Hotel and its nearby mall (by the Putra WTC)
which I had missed earlier in the day in order to head to the Petronas Towers. With nothing
special or cheap inside the mall though, I turned around to head back. As Mydin doesn't
accept credit cards, I stopped at the Maybank ATM outside before going in to buy the watch
with the day & date. At the front, there was no "thank you" or other such pleasantries from
the Malay cashier, and I was once again reminded that while a Chinese cashier would
usually offer the standard "thank you", I didn't encounter one Malay cashier who did.
After buying the watch I walked down Jalan TAR towards Sogo, first stopping in at a
clothing "reject" store (where clothes with slight imperfections were sold at lower prices).
Though the bright, air-conditioned basement shop had a large selection of everything from
slacks to jackets, nothing caught my eye, and I soon walked up to use the phone inside
Sogo.
Earlier in the day I called the Hotel Nova to ask them to arrange an airport shuttle
pickup for me early tomorrow morning... the lady at the front desk told me to call back at
2:00pm, but calling her back now, I was told that the airport shuttle didn't run that early in
the morning (5:00am). I knew this was incorrect, but the lady at the hotel said this is what
she had just been told, and wasn't able to make a reservation. Hanging up, I called
Malaysian Airlines to ask for the number of the shuttle service (to call them myself), but was
given an incorrect number.
After buying some Shige Kicks candy in the basement of Sogo, I left to continue
walking in the area, only to find no working card or coin phones on the street (Malaysian
phones have no coin-return mechanism on them in case a coin becomes stuck). Though it
started to drizzle, I kept walking, hoping to make it to the Central Market before the heavy
afternoon rains.
At the Central Market I went to the payphone area (where the few working phones
were being hogged by people chatting away), and finally received the correct number for the
shuttle from Malaysian Airlines. Calling the shuttle up, I found out the lady at the hotel had
just mid-understood: the first bus to leave the half-way station is at 5:30am, but in order to
meet that bus, they'll come to your hotel at 5:00am to pick you up. Making the reservation
myself, I arranged for a 5:00am pickup the next morning.
From the Central Market I decided to head off to the S&M Plaza, knowing that the
rain would surely come soon — and just as I arrived, it began to come down hard, along
with plenty of thunder and lightning. Inside, the same Q+Q watch Mydin was selling for
RM15 was RM49-RM59, and walking into the good VCD shop in the basement, I had
another look at the bootleg all-region Chinese DVDs of the Studio Ghibli films (priced at
RM236, though the lady said she'd go down to RM200/US$52.63). Though I was tempted,
she didn't have a DVD player to demonstrate them on, so I passed (the poorly-printed box
advertised 11 movies on 4 DVDs even though there were only 10 — and even if the DVDs
worked, I wasn't sure if I could turn off the Chinese subtitles. The box also indicated a 4:3
size rather than the 1.85:1 format the films were made in, so I decided to save my money).
More tempting was to buy the Shin Kimagure Orange Road movie on Chinese DVD, but for
much of the same reasons, I passed.
Upstairs in the 5F food court, a can of 100 Plus was an expensive RM1.70 (I should
have just waited, for after buying it I noticed cold 100 Plus sodas were only RM1.20 [and
warm ones RM1.10] at the supermarket on the 4F).
Leaving S&M (without looking in at the neighboring Koto Raya Centre), I walked back
to the hotel to leave the heavy camera off and take my umbrella (though the rain had now
stopped). Resting for a few minutes from all the walking, I wrote a bit in the journal before
going back out again to head for Lot 10 and Bukit Bintang Plaza nearby. With a constant
light rain, I then left to return once again to the S&M Plaza area.
In the Koto Raya mall, I picked up a cheap little buddah statue for a friend who
collects such trinkets... while it was only RM1.90/US50c at the shop here, another store
had similar junky dragons for an incredible RM39.95/US$10.51. The Q+Q watch that
Mydin was selling for RM15 was RM52.90 here... many stores had those "CASIQ" watches
for sale... and looking around the mall, I noticed the video arcade still very much in business
(as back in December I had read in the paper that they were all to be closed nationwide as of
Jan. 1st).
Returning back to the basement of S&M Plaza next door, I wound up buying a VCD
of "Little Mermaid II" at a neighboring shop for RM4/US$1.05 (of the various titles in the
RM4 bargain bin, only "The Little Mermaid II" and "The Aristocats" were familiar — but as
the lady mentioned that "The Aristocats" was dubbed in Cantonese, I opted only for "The
Little Mermaid II"). As the disc was a VCD (Video CD) rather than a DVD, the lady at the
shop was able to put it in her player and show me that it indeed did work... though I bought
it more as an experiment than anything else, for I couldn't remember if my DVD player at
home played VCDs or not (it does). Up to this point I hadn't bought any VCDs (though I was
tempted to buy "Emperor's New Groove" back in December, for I hadn't even seen the movie
yet, and the price to buy the VCD would have been cheaper than seeing even a matinee of it
at home), so I was curious to buy at least one, as the format isn't really found in the US.
Interestingly, when the lady put the Little Mermaid II disc in the machine to demonstrate,
the pitch was 1/2 step too high (typical when converting between NTSC and PAL) — but
upon returning home and trying it in my NTSC player, it was also 1/2 step too high.
Leaving the malls to get something to eat, I decided to stop at some different food
stalls tonight, opting for some prawn mee noodle soup (RM3/US79c) in the area. Being
seated outside next to a bartender from New York, we talked for a bit before I left to take one
final stoll through the stalls, buying two RM0.50/US13c pancake slices much like the ones I
found on Pulau Bintan.
Under a clear starry sky (with slippery wet streets), I walked back to the hotel area to
finish having dinner on Jalan Alor. There, I ordered a bowl of Penang Laksa (hot curry soup
with noodles, RM3/US79c) at the top of the street before walking back down for some
Penang Chiou Kwei Teow (RM3.50/US92c with egg). With all the walking today, I had pretty
much skipped breakfast and lunch (with only a few snacks along the way), so the food really
hit the spot.
When finished, I was going to go into the cheaper convenience store across the street
from the 7-11 to buy soda water, but wanting a slurpee, I decided to visit the 7-11 instead.
The slurpee machine listed two flavors: "Strawberry" and "Sour", but the signs must have
been old and incorrect, for "Strawberry" was green. Deciding to try something new, I asked
the young Malay teenager behind the counter for a small "Sour"... but as the store had run
out of "bubble" lids (which enable the cups to hold a bit more), she asked if it was OK just to
have it filled to the top of the cup. Saying it was, I proceeded to drink my slurpee while
looking arond the store (as it was nice and air-conditioned inside). The girl went back to
talking to her co-worker (another young teenager), and after a minute or two, I finished it (I
don't know what flavor it actually was, but it was quite good). As I was ready to throw the
cup away and leave, the second girl asked me if I'd like some more (free), and happily took
the cup to re-fill it with "Sour" — though by now the "Sour" half of the machine was on
defrost mode. The girl suggested I try some green, but as I really liked the "Sour", I said I
didn't mind if it was a bit watery. Filling the cup with "Sour", it was indeed watery (more
like soda than a slurpee), but was still quite tasty. Thanking them both, I finished the cup
in the store... but when ready to leave again, the Malay clerk actually smiled [a first] and
suggested I try some of the green too, as she took my cup to fill it up to the top with
whatever flavor "Green" was. Asking me where I was from, the three of us chatted for a bit,
as both girls seemed bored with their jobs with no one else around. Finally thanking them
once again, I left, finishing most (but not all) of the green flavor outside.
Up to this point, a cold-shoulder attitude was the norm from just about every Malay
I'd encounter, no matter how friendly I'd try to be (the only exceptions being when someone
once showed me how to raise my seat on the bus, and just the hint of a return smile
yesterday, as a young Malay woman sat down in her assigned seat next to me on the bus
back to KL). This demeanor had really started to wear on me — and whether the two 7-11
girls knew it or not, their small gesture of being friendly and kind (and actually smiling)
really made me feel better about Malaysia in my last few hours here.
Finally stopping at the cheaper convenience store across the street for some cans of
soda water, I returned back to the Hotel Nova, telling the staff at the front desk that
everything was arranged for an airport shuttle pickup at 5:00am tomorrow morning.
Going up to my room, I finished the day's journal before sorting through my things,
setting out a few items I'd no longer need for the cleaning lady (the cap I bought in Cape
Town, some spare BandAids, a comb, etc). After taking a shower and setting my watch for
4:45am, I finally turned off the lights at 11:50pm, deciding to sleep with the curtains open
— as I'd be waking up before the sun and there was a nice view of the apartment block
across the street and the KL Tower in the background.
Feb. 10: Kuala Lumpur / Tokyo (Japan) / Los Angeles (USA)
Though my alarm was set for 4:45am, I woke up on my own at 4:40am. Outside the
window the view was much the same as a few hours ago, and after getting dressed, I
grabbed my bags and went down to the lobby to pay for the room (RM190 for two nights).
Leaving my bag by the front desk, I went out for a quick walk up the street to see which
stalls and restaurants were still open — and was surprised to see about 1/3rd of them still
serving customers. Returning back to pick up my bag, I asked the man at the desk what
time the stalls closed... his answer was that some stay open pretty much throughout the
night, from 6:00pm to 6:00am. Going outside to wait for the shuttle, the driver showed up
right on time at 5:00am, and we soon headed off early this Saturday morning.
At the half-way station I paid my RM25/US$6.58 and boarded the 5:30am bus with a
few other passengers. While the airport shuttle is currently the only practical option to get
to-and-from KLIA, that will soon change, as while reading the Sun (an English-language
Malaysian newspaper) later on the plane, I found out that an Express Rail Link between KL
and the airport will become operational by next year (with the article commenting on how
limo drivers tout and harass arriving passengers).
Reaching the airport at 6:25am, I first went upstairs to fetch the bag from the left-
luggage facility before going down to check in for my flight. Getting seat 60A (the first row
with 2 seats instead of 3), I then went to get some breakfast. Burger King didn't offer a
breakfast menu, so I went to McDonalds for 2 Egg McMuffins (no ham in Malaysia) for
RM3.65/96c each... interestingly, this time when I asked for a cup of water I was given one
(perhaps enough people had complained). I still had some ringett left afterwards, but most
of the souvenir shops were still closed (with only a few pricier ones open so early). Using the
last of the remaining credits on my Time Kontact card, I called up a few friends in the US
and Japan, as the 800 access number didn't seem to be blocked from the airport phones
anymore. Time Kontact had a bit of a glitch this morning though: while placing a call to a
friend in the US, I was told I had 9mins 11secs of talk time available... after talking for 3-4
minutes, the recording butted in again (right in the middle of our conversation), telling me I
had 9mins 11secs of talk time left. I then received a "processing error" recording, and was
summarily cut off — but no credits were deducted for the call.
When finished with the phone, I cleared immigration and caught the Aero Train to
the satellite building where the appropriate gate was located. There, some souvenir shops
had now opened, but their prices were sky-high: T-shirts that were RM8/US$2.11 in town
were RM29-RM34/US$7.63-US$8.95 here, and metal keychains that were RM4-RM5 in
town were RM12-19 — but using the last of my ringett, I bought a metal keychain for R12
and a non-metal one for RM4.
While buying the keychains, I realized my plane was already boarding... so I made my
way to the gate as fast as I could. In the seats in front of me was a Chinese couple and their
daughter, all enormously large (they were thankfully kind enough not to recline their seats
all the way), and sitting behind me was a young Japanese couple flying to LA (why they
originated in KL instead of Tokyo I don't know). Seeing them read a Japanese printout
explaining the rules of poker, I asked if they were headed for Las Vegas... they were, and
throughout the flight, we talked every once in a while as I tried to think of different things
for them to see along the way.
The flight from KL to Tokyo was supposed to take 5hrs 50mins, but soon passed 6
hours due to a holding pattern. Landing at Narita, I was startled to look out the window
and see nothing but brown (from the fields to the grass at the airport) — before suddenly
realizing that all my trips to Japan had taken place during spring or summer, and never
winter (getting off the plane it was nice to feel the cool 10C weather in the connection tube
after coming from hot, humid Malaysia).
At Narita we were all required to leave the plane for 40-50 minutes, so I had a chance
to stretch my legs and look around a few of the souvenir shops by the gates. The one main
duty-free shop didn't have anything exciting, but before leaving, I did wind up buying two
ultra-thin pocket shavers at a snack kiosk. I had no idea if the shavers (Lozenstar, 2-AAA
size, Made in Japan, Y980/US$8.17 each) were any good or not, but decided to pick up two,
as they were cheap enough. Though the snack kiosk accepted US$ cash (with a sign
indicating a US$1=Y120 exchange rate), they also accepted credit cards... so picking up a
Snickers bar and an onigiri as well, I put everything on Visa. I also tried to change the
spare R50 South African rand note I had into US$ at an airport money changer, but was
told they didn't deal with rand.
The flight from Narita to Los Angeles was supposed to take 9 hours, but wound up
being a bit longer. For most of the time I watched movies (the current Japanese pick being a
children's sci-fi adventure called "Juvenile", though it wasn't nearly as entertaining as
"Space Travellers"), however the aircraft had constant problems with the entertainment
system (with first and business class totally losing their feed, and coach passengers having
to constantly push the MODE button on the controller to prevent the video from shutting
off). Walking into the lavatory to freshen up in-flight, I suddenly had the weird sensation
that I was only coming to the US to visit — for I had been overseas so much recently (8 of
the last 24 months) that I felt as if I was just visiting America temporarily (and as fate would
have it, I'd soon leave again to spend the entire month of May in Japan).
Touching down in Los Angeles at 10:15am I was finally home, and the trip I had
planned and tried to take for so long was now over. Thinking back to all I had seen and
experienced, I realized how lucky I was to have been able to see these vastly different
corners of the world, and while one part of me felt relieved to be home, another was already
wondering when I'd be able to return.
::::: End :::::
