Maybe now it's Yangon, but to my Granddad, it's Burma

And I'm a Brit, and apparently we still don't recognise it by any other name, although some say it has been Yangon, Myanmar since 1996.

Today was sort of a pilgrimage for me, you see, my Granddad fought in Burma in WWII, and there is an Allied War memorial 19 miles out of the town centre, where the shuttle bus drops us off. My Granddad used to tell my Mum stories about crawling through the jungle on his 21st Birthday in Burma, and I'm also aware that he lost many friends there, so you can imagine I was determined to get to the memorial.

My Granddad fought in Burma in the Egypt Lincolnshire regiment, has the Burma Star medal and is still a member of the Burma Star Alliance. He could travel there (with a carer even) for free, to see the memorial and revisit the place, but right now he has a poorly lung and so it was up to me to walk in his footsteps, whilst taking pictures of the new things Burma has to offer since he was last here.

We got the first shuttle in the morning from Thilawa Port, and the next 12 miles (or 40 turbulent minutes) were truly extraordinary. I have never seen a place like this.

Our guide Eddie (his friends say he looks like Eddie Murphy!) made us laugh, but as we drove through the surrounding rice paddy fields, we saw some of the thinnest cows, goats, pigs and young boys I have ever seen. You can see them wading in the water in the distance of this shot. Eddie told us the cows are not milked, they are used just for their meat, which as you can see in this picture, is negligable.

In the town, children waved, men wore skirts (long, like sarongs but tied in a very particular way, this is absolutely commonplace as you can see) women carried huge loads on their heads, and monks walked around with food pots which you could put food into. Apparently the monks eat only breakfast and lunch, they have no evening meal, and live off these donations.

This is public transport in Burma. People cram into these vans from the 1950s, and hang off the back for dear life in order to get to their destination. Also extraordinary are the big terracota pots of water with a huge stopper and a cup on top, at the side of roads every mile or so, for public consumption I imagine, as their is no running fresh water supply for most people.

Once at the Trader's Hotel, on the corner of Bogyoke Aung San Road and Shule Pagoda Road, we got in another taxi, with a lovely friendly driver (you have to look for taxis with a black label for tourists, other coloured labels like red, blue, etc. are for other types of people eg. monks) for the war memorial. It was, again a fascinating journey.

The memorial and cemetary, in Htauk Kyant, is dedicated to the Allied soldiers who died in the Burma Campaign, and is home to 27,000 stone graves.

Some of the headstones, like this one, bear no name, but others have names, dates of birth, regiment, age and messages from their families inscribed on them. This was my Granddad's regiment.

Eric noticed that there were also Canadian soldiers buried here.

The memorial is altogether peaceful and beautifully maintained, with a different plant for each stone and a beautiful lawn all around. There are various inscriptions on the arc of the stone terrace behind the cross, and a covered walkway with hanging vines through the cemetary.

We sat on a bench, where I took this picture, and had a little cry. 27,000 lives lost is an awful lot of families left heartbroken, but to see them all out in front of you, row after row of casualties of war, was an extremely sorrowful sight.

We signed the guestbook when a man who worked there ushered us over to it.

We got back in the taxi, here's our driver, and headed back to the Trader's Hotel as a point of reference. On the way, we saw this perfect-looking boy, in some kind of ceremonial wear. We think he was being christened (of sorts!) or involved in a "becoming a man" type of ceremony in Hindi faith. Look how proud his father is behind him.

Back at the hotel, we made a tactical decision not to join up with the crew tour, lose out on $19 and figure it out alone because we were too late to make it back to the ship. Instead, we walked around Bogyoke Aung San market behind the hotel. I bought some wonderful beads and a blanket for my family, handmade and so cheap. A friend of ours bought a string of pearls for $17, real freshwater pearls, AND they were re-strung for her. There was also jade, laquerware and teakrosewood boxes on sale for $2-$3. This woman is making sugar-cane juice, putting the sugar cane sticks through a mangle-type thing to pulverise and extract the juice from the cane.

We changed some money into Kyats ("Chats", the exchange rate is 1,200 to 1USD, and the largest note is 1,000) and headed to the Strand Hotel, built by the Sarkies brothers (of Raffles fame) in 1896 and opened 1902, for lunch. Our taxi was possibly the oldest, most ready-to-konk-out car I've ever been in.

I bought some postcards from this persistent young girl. Other children cried around me because I'd given my custom to someone else. Many people wear the makeup she has. It is from a paste, and you can buy it in blocks at some stores. As far as I can tell, it is not a religious custom, it smells fragrant and is also worn by both men and women (men just their faces, women can wear it all over their bodies) because it keeps the wearer cool.

It is extremely interesting to note the extent of British colonial rule and influence throughout our recent ports. Eric is part of this, as a Canadian, but even he was surprised by some examples, such as our tour guide telling us "this square used to be known by it's British name, Victoria Park, but not now."

The Strand also had a wonderful faded elegance, Victorian frosted glass with arched windows and original frames let in the light at the bar. Even the cocktails and peanuts felt old, as was the selection of glasses, with old port and sherry flutes behind the bar, and pigeon holes for bills. Not a computer screen in sight, although this is one of the only places in Burma where you actually can use a credit card. Eric, as you can see, was pleased. In most places, the Myanmar government has issued a no credit-card, no cash machine law.

We sipped our Strand Sour and Strand Crush, and then went to lunch in the adjacent dining room and had a great falafel curry salad. It was $9 for the food, $6 for the drinks.

Feeling tipsy, we got another taxi to the Kan Daw Gyi Lake and Karaweik Palace. We paid 300Kyat to get in to the park, which was relaxing and had a great lake view with the Shwedagon pagoda in the distance, as you can see, and then another 1000Kyat to get into the "palace". Although it's only $1, I feel as if we got ripped off. The palace is basically a buffet restaurant, made to look like a golden palace-boat, with a hall on one side where many weddings and functions take place. The carpet was clean, but alas due to the open nature of the building and it's exposed position, it has decayed somewhat, and sparrows have invaded the rafters. The place even smelled bad. Our "tour" with a man wearing a badge who ushered us quickly around took all of 5 minutes, this was one of the "picture stops." This is another, the swan heads are actually very pretty. I did, however, like this picture which was inside the building, it's Erte-esque. See, I'm creating a dance and music piece with my man, where we use his upright bass and I dance around him, using and imitating the curves of the bass. We think this is the end position (my friend Paul took it during a rehearsal.) This picture, where she echoes the shape of the swan, is exactly what I'm going for.

When we left the palace, built as late as 1975(!) we were given an energy drink called Shark, almost as an apology I think. It was very sickly-sweet.

We were so tired, it really is hot in Burma, but I wore long sleeves because, even though I wear repellent, I'm getting eaten alive by mosquitos or some kind of bugs in these ports! This grass "sofa" was a welcome break, until we discovered the red ant army we were sitting on!

The last place we knew we had yet to visit was the Shwedagon Pagoda. It's a wonder of the world, don't you know! It is thought to be 2,500 years old. Just as we got shoe-less and went in to the Inner wall of the Pagoda area, the heavens opened and rain poured down. It was a short-lived storm, but for the rest of our tour we sloshed around in foot-juice. Nice. As a dancer who needs to take care of her feet from any nasty infection, this was not an ideal situation, but we had fun. Hey look, I'm in this picture!

Their are SO many Buddhas here! It's incredible, I have no idea how many, they're everywhere you look. In this little alcove people were SLEEPING amongst buddhas! In all of these alcoves there are buddhas. Yes, in ALL of them. Some date from as early as 1140, one is from 1792, but some, honestly, look like something out of an amusement arcade. There's even a Buddhology showroom. Buddhology! What a great word. At this smaller shrine, of which there are several, people dowse the Buddha images with water, over the shoulders and head a few times, with small cups and fonts of water provided.

At the very top of the Pagoda, about 100 metres up, is a diamond orb, with a height of 22 inches, a diameter of 10.5 inches, with no less than 4,351 diamonds on it! The total carat of all the diamonds is 1,800, but the apex diamond, a huge rock at the very top that is almonst oblong, is 76 carat! THAT'S WHY IT'S A WONDER OF THE WORLD! Even though, after watching the movie Blood Diamond, my love affair with the girl's best friend has fizzled out somewhat (I think after watching the movie it's practically impossible to tell whether a diamond is truly not a 'conflict diamond'), I did find myself salivating over such a huge piece of bling.

I wish I could've got a decent picture of it, but alas it was just too far up. Apparently at night when you stand at different points, you can actually see the different rainbow colours the apex diamond reflects.

We had tired ourselves out, and ended up getting the 4pm shuttle from the Trader's Hotel back to the ship. I even gave my camera to Eric, and told him that if he saw something wonderful, he had to take a picture of it for my Granddad. He immediately pointed the thing at my tired mug and took this picture. Ah! I slept most of the way home.

Oh, Phuket!

I’m so sorry, please forgive me, I DO know it's pronounced FooKET, but why does the name STILL never stop being funny to me?

After a sleepy start (I guess we were both thinking “Phuket”…I HAVE TO STOP!) but a beautiful sail-in seen through my port-hole at 7am with rainforest hills, beaches below and the odd wooden fishing boat nearby, we got the 12pm shuttle into downtown Phuket.

Some of the beaches Phuket is famous for, Patong and Kamala, are still being straightened out after the tsunami. Indeed, the beach we went to had “Tsunami exit route” signs by the main road, as a precaution against the terrible scenes created by the tsunami ever repeating themselves. The signs made me quite sad, as if, had they been there beforehand, something could've been done to get more people away in time.

After a big iced coffee, and a stop in Mister Donuts (best donuts in Asia) to buy this huge Duraemon sippy-cup (LOVE the sippy-cups on a cruise ship. IMAGINE all the hot water I can take from the mess in this li'l baby!), we plumped for Kata beach, which wasn’t too far away on the South -West coast of Phuket, and apparently good for swimming, but less commercial than the most popular beach, Bang Thao.

Another fresh breeze in another, slightly different but equally bumpy tuk tuk (it’s the only way to travel in Thailand) another cool barefoot driver and 300BHT later, we got to Kata beach, which was a lovely, if cloudy sight. Check it out.

We swam in the cool pleasant water for around half an hour, and there were a few great sets that rolled in just for us, perfect ones for body-surfing. This is one of the few areas in which I can give Eric good coaching, I’m like a fish in water and I love playing with the waves although I’ve never tried actual surfing yet.

We were running out of time due to Eric’s 4pm rehearsal, so got dressed and stuck solidly to our plan to go get a massage (they’re cheap, and they’re good here in Thailand, just look for the foot with all these colourful reflexology points drawn on, and you know you’re on to a winner) Eric on his arms and hands because they get sore after a lot of playing and I don’t want my man to get carpel tunnel syndrome (it’s actually a very real worry to some musicians) and me on my feet and calves, typical dancer sore-spots.

We only had time for half an hour’s worth, and typically all treatments are an hour, but the women were very obliging. I had a weird possessive moment, when they took Eric away into a curtained-off mattressed area for his massage. Did they think Hand Massage meant something else? Why did he need to go behind a curtain!? I’d heard some stories, and my concern was further piqued when a young man went behind the curtain with a waitor’s pad, as if to take an order and write down what “sir” wanted!

I later found out the boy actually wanted to know if Eric wanted rice, with the food he’d ordered for us as a surprise for the journey home. Bless his heart!

The massage I got was harder than I’d anticipated, she had a stick which she poked into various points on my foot, sometimes making me wince, but I think it’s all good and beneficial. The food in the taxi on the ride back was awesome, spicy squid and lemongrass shrimp, WITH rice!

Chewing gum AND jay-walking in Singapore

Singapore terminal is THE most high security port I’ve ever been docked in. Firstly, it’s the only port we’ve ever been into where you MUST get your passports, not just your cruise ship ID, to walk around. Secondly, you have to go through bag search and passport check on LEAVING the ship, not just on rejoining it. Bizarre, but then, maybe it just confirms that Singapore is as pristine and high-maintenance as they say…

One of my best friends, Maggie, a fellow dancer, is dancing in Phantom of the Opera, (in the same track as I’ve performed in Hamburg) here in Singapore, and I managed to get guest passes for her and her boyfriend, James, to come onboard and look around when we docked at 4pm (okay, 4.30 what with all the crazy red tape involved!)

We watched some of the farewell show at 5.30pm which thankfully I was not involved in, and then at 6.30pm, I left them in Eric’s hands to get acquianted and joined up with some crew members for the night safari tour.
It was about 30 minutes out of downtown Singapore (we were docked about 5 miles out) and just getting dark when we got there.
The night safari involves a tram ride, and then optional walking trails. (This is me with our guide, Jean, at the start.) It’s a theme-park ride type of set-up, there are trams, and it’s a well designed attraction.

The guides spoke wonderfully accurate, very proper English dialect with an exquisite English-Asian accent. By that I mean “flats” not apartments, “storeys” not floors, “toilets” not restrooms, and “plAHstic” not plastic. By now, I’m so used to applying all the Americanisms I’ve learned to my conversational speech, that to hear my mother-tongue spoken with such alacrity was a joy to my ears.
On the tour, we saw 4 male lions all wrestling and hanging out with each other in seeming contentment, hyenas running around, buffalo, giraffes by a huge glass lake as if roaming the Savanna, hippos, rhino and many types of deer. Although it is part of the zoo, the animals had clean, very natural enclosures and did not display any of the signs of depression or repetitive behaviour like pacing morosely up and down, as I’ve seen in other zoos.

On the walking tour, we walked actually through the enclosures of flying squirrels, which jumped and spread their “wings” to get from tree to tree for us, as if paid to do so. The fruit bats were close enough to touch (although of course you’re not allowed to do so) and look like cats with big black leathery vampire wings.
Had I known beforehand there’d be extensive walking involved, I wouldn’t have worn my stiletto Karen Millen heels, which apart from being impractical got ruined through having to walk through soaking-wet sanitising sponges at various intervals, but I still had a great time.
If you’re looking for an authentic, “real” safari, ie. the animals truly do run freely (and you may not see any) you’ll probably be disappointed, but if you want a chance to see healthy animals in their natural, nocturnal waking hours it’s a must.
Oh, why no pictures you ask? Because using the flash is forbidden throughout the park.
We got back at 10.30pm, at which point I met back up with my man and we got a taxi to where Maggie was staying, the Marina Mandarin Hotel in downtown Singapore, right near the Esplanade and Mer-Lion statue (symbol of Singapore.)

The lobby was very impressive, with a wonderful expansive air-space and indoor balcony design as you can see. Eric said it created a very communal feel, which I like.

My friends who are also in the show, Katherine and Deborah were out at the pool on the 5th storey, as was Maggie, when we got there. James went to buy beers from 7 Eleven and we chatted and talked shop until about 3am which was wonderful. Eric and I swam in the pool, and decided we weren’t tired.
We got dressed and walked to 7 Eleven for snacks, buying daring kebab-style convenience food.
Then we made the decision, at 4am, to check out the 24 hour shopping centre my safari guide had recommended, Mustafa, and hopped in a taxi for about 10 minutes to get there. This is it. It is not a commercial, generic type of place. It’s one-of-a-kind amazing. Look at all these things!
I get a very weird mental image when I look at this particular tea, I mean, are we talking ingredient here (ew!), or as a cure for? Oh, look, Eric IS SHOPPING! SHOP-WATCH ALERT! HE CANNOT DENY THIS! HE IS DOING IT! LOOK, HE EVEN CHANGED MONEY IN ORDER TO DO SO! Here’s proof. I love that it says "noodle from India" right above his closely shorn noodle! It’s a five storey place, clothes, then electronics, then toiletries, then dry food, then furnishings.

We bought 2 bags of stuff, from muscle rub, to perfume, to eye drops, to Bhindis and bangles, to Ribena pastilles, to blank CDs.
Does anyone know what a Dhoop stick is? There’s a huge Indian influence in Singapore, and many of the Indian cafes around were also open 24 hour. I was amazed at how busy the place was at 4am! I nearly bought a new comforter for my cabin bed, but as with all of the centre, there was just TOO MUCH CHOICE!
We got back to our room at the Marina Mandarin which Eric was sweet enough to book up the day before, and slept all of four hours before our 10am breakfast date with our friends!

We had a great bath in the room. As you can see, it bathes one tall French Canadian quite comfortably!

After a great dim-sum breakfast in the hotel and a chat with another of my old cast-mates, Anders, also from Phantom in Hamburg, the four of us walked to one of the Thousand Places to do before you die, Raffles Hotel, the Long Bar (this sign is actually misleading, see it says straight ahead, and yet the arrow points left, somehow my alcoholdar got us there though), and the Singapore Slings (which were invented there) therein.

The boys weren’t allowed through the lobby as they were not wearing long pants (tsk!) so we were ushered through the courtyards to the bar, Eric still seemed pretty happy though.

It’s true what they say! They DO have peanuts on the tables and you ARE supposed to throw the shells on the floor. I love the place, the wafty bamboo ceiling fans are still there, and I can just imagine Charlie Chaplin and Rudyard Kipling sipping their drinks and brooding in it’s it dark mahogany corners. Here we are, with Slings!

We walked out, and took a stroll along the esplanade, (I even chewed gum, illegal here, I’m so badass!) past these bars and statues (it’s becoming a recurring theme, this statue Tom-Foolery. I'm bartering over a big bag of spice. See, he says three, I say FOUR!) and Maggie's theatre, which you can see here, to Clark Quay, where we stopped for coffees. I had a great cold coffee with red beans in it, and we left Maggie and James to finish out their contract, which ends in three weeks, in the “Crossroads of the East.”