Cruise to Southeast Asia--Final Post

At Bangkok, we disembarked and were transferred to the Millennium Hotel overlooking the Chao Phraya River. Bangkok was immensely crowded, and not just because of Chinese New Year--it teemed with traffic, shops, and pedestrians (see picture). We had two days to look around before flying to Cambodia and Angkor Wat. On the first afternoon, we visited three Buddhist temples, including the Emerald Buddha in the Grand Palace. The palace itself is an elaborate complex filled with monumental and exotic architecture. The next day was free time. While there was little to see on our side of the river, a boat service run by the hotel took guests across to a shopping complex that connected, in turn, to a square with taxis and tuk-tuks. The latter are open cabs attached to motorbikes. By this time we had run out of reading material, and after determining the location of Bangkok's one English bookstore, we set out via tuk-tuk to find it. It was on the fourth floor of yet another huge shopping mall in downtown Bangkok and had a nice, if somewhat limited, selection of British paperbacks. While there, we looked for gifts to bring home but finally decided on buying silks at the shopping complex across from the hotel, because most of the items for sale at this other mall were foreign-made. We flagged down another tuk-tuk and this time experienced what we subsequently found was a standard tourist rip-off. Driver claimed he did not know where our hotel was, then took us to the wrong hotel, etc. Finally got back, an hour and a half later and quite a few bhat out of pocket. The next morning we had to be up at 3:00 a.m. to catch an early morning flight to Siem Reap, Cambodia. Once there, we were immediately taken to the Bayon Temple, one of the several monuments dating from the 12th century Khmer Empire. It was indeed a fascinating place, but on the highest level of the temple I started to feel dizzy. Luckily, I was able to make it back down slowly and carefully without asking for help. By the time we got to the hotel, I knew I had suffered a sunstroke. Spent the afternoon in a darkened hotel room and so never saw Angkor Wat, although Bayon gave me a pretty good idea of what it would have been like. The next morning I was fine, and before our flight back we were able to explore a bit of Siem Reap, which--even though it was a common tourist destination--was very impoverished compared to Bangkok. We saw ruined and abandoned buildings that might have once been schools, evidence of the devastation under the Khmer Rouge. Of all the places we saw, Siem Reap was historically and culturally the most illustrative. At the airport, incidentally, there was a bookstore with an even better selection of paperbacks than I had found in Bangkok, as well as inexpensive silks and other gift items. One of the books I picked up there, Paolo Bacigalupi's The Windup Girl, is my current entertainment reading. It's a dystopian science fiction novel set in a futuristic Bangkok. Because I visited the city, the surroundings it pictures, though distorted, have a real immediacy. That was a good conclusion to our Southeast Asia trip. We flew out the next day from Bangkok and made it back home without incident. Looking back, I would say the cruise was a fine learning experience, but not a dream vacation. Ron isn't sure he wants to go on any more cruises--perhaps he's right. There are better ways to see the world.

Cruise to Southeast Asia, Part Three

Arriving in Ho Chi Minh City was quite memorable. We cruised up the Saigon River for several hours seeing mostly rice fields on either side of the banks. The Mekong Delta is impressively fertile. Little trace remained of devastation from the war, although we learned in the War Remnants Museum that the long-term effects of Agent Orange are still felt, with physical deformities now occurring in the second and third generations. The city itself, however, seems fully recovered and quite prosperous. On our excursion, we visited Notre Dame Cathedral and the Post Office, both reminders of the colonial past, before going to the museum. As one would expect, the exhibits, largely photographic, were disturbing, with great blame laid on the United States for its violence against civilians and its use of Agent Orange. The cruelties of the Diem regime were also a key theme. Ron was depressed by the museum, but I felt strongly that we, as Americans living during the period, needed to see the evidence collected by the Vietnamese themselves, even if its propaganda function was so apparent. I certainly did not agree with a woman on the cruise who told us the next morning that she was sorry for the children who were exposed to such a one-sided view of history (with the implication that cruise participants should not have been exposed to it either). If she found the messages that upsetting, why was she visiting Vietnam in the first place? Surely she knew that we could not escape some reminders of the war. Be that as it may, the excursion culminated with a stop at the huge city market, which reminded me very much of markets in Mexico. Stalls of local products, including food but also gimcrack trinkets for tourists. I was suspicious of the gold and silver items on view but bought a nice string of beads for $10 from a woman whose daughter, it turned out, was studying at Arizona State University. (So much for being brainwashed by the museum.) In the afternoon there was a second excursion to the Cu Chi tunnels used by the Viet Cong during the way. We didn't go, but I regret now that I didn't. Those who did go said that it offered a unique glimpse of what life was like for the other side.

After Vietnam, our next landfall, the resort island of Ko Samui in Thailand, was rather like Disneyland. Back in the sixties, we were told, the island was first popularized as a travel spot by hippies celebrating it as an unspoiled native settlement. "Unspoiled" is scarcely the right word these days. Once again we saw tourist facilities such as spas and resorts next door to small shops where gasoline for motorcycles was sold in liter bottles. Attractions included a twelve-meter high statue of Buddha (Disneyland indeed!), a coconut plantation featuring a trained monkey (getting your picture taken with him was $1 extra), and a monastery with the mummified body of one of its former members on display. Cultural and religious differences aside, treating that as a tourist stop was tasteless. (On the other hand, as I write, news continues to pour out of Leicester University about the discovery of Richard III's skeleton, while the Richard III Society is proudly showing on its web page the monumental tomb it plans to set up in Leicester Cathedral--why does the excavation seem so romantic and the display of the monk's body so awful? Furthermore, there has been considerable discussion of the forensic evidence indicating that the king's death was gruesome, with numerous postmortem injuries also inflicted. I can happily talk about the forensics in a classroom or over dinner, as I did last night. Archaeological desensitization, I suppose.)

To be sure, the cruise was not intended to stop at Ko Samui at all. Our original port of call following Ho Chi Minh City was Sihanoukville in Cambodia. Phnom Phnh and Sihanoukville were closed to tourists, however, because of the official funeral ceremonies for king Norodom Sihanouk, who had died at the age of 89 in October. I was astonished that he had lived so long--pretty much the last survivor among the major players of that time. One final, unexpected event of our stop at Ko Samui: probably the most amazing sunset I have ever seen in my life. That was worth the visit, even if the rest was not.

Cruise to Southeast Asia, Part Two

As I have said to many people since our return, the Southeast Asia cruise was a journey back into recent history, in which we learned the long-term outcomes of what we had lived through when young. During my twenties, the Vietnam War was background noise, something to be opposed to, but I never inquired into the colonial past of Vietnam or the rationale for US involvement, such as it was. On the cruise, a series of four lectures by Major Rod Baldwin, a military historian who had formerly served with the New Zealand army in Vietnam, provided the background for understanding the French and subsequently the American investment in South Vietnam and the horrifying events in Cambodia, fallout from Nixon's bombing of the country. At the same time, I was reading a volume Daniel had given me for Christmas, J. M. Barwise and N. J. White's A Traveller's History of Southeast Asia, which served as a very convenient textbook. Book and lectures in combination became a mini-course preparing me for Ho Chi Minh City and later Cambodia. The other two onboard speakers offered interesting lectures, though they were not directly related to the cultures we would experience. Gavin Roser, a really charming man, talked about naval history and maritime operations. It was probably more interesting to Ron--ships, like automobiles, are to me just transport vehicles, not objects of romance. Eric Sidebottom, a professor of the history of medicine at Oxford,gave a series of talks on the origins of plague and the effects of plagues on history. Since I had dealt with the Antonine Plague in the last chapter of Sexuality, I found his coverage of the Greek and Roman periods absorbing and right on target. On the way to Singapore we crossed the equator; those who had never done so by sea before were initiated (see accompanying photo). Singapore has a bad name among political progressives because of its severe penalties against drugs, not to mention laws against littering and a ban on chewing gum. Nevertheless, it was a marvelous city, particularly impressive because of its futuristic architecture, like the Marina Bay Hotel (below). Our introductory excursion took us to Mt. Faber and Chinatown, fantastically decorated for the upcoming Chinese New Year (the Year of the Snake, obviously). One highlight was the botanical gardens--more orchids, and a bounty of other tropical plants thriving in the moist equatorial climate. After the city tour, Ron and I found our way to the National Museum of Singapore, which provided a detailed photographic history of the Japanese occupation. At evening the ship departed the Singapore Cruise Center, the city glowing around us as darkness fell. Another day at sea heading toward Ho Chi Minh City. Days at sea became very boring. I finally resorted to staying in the cabin and working on the Catullus bibliography I'm compiling for Lustrum. Since we had cruised with them previously, the Aegean Odyssey line hads upgraded our quarters at no additional charge. We had an unimpeded outside view, making the cabin bright and fairly comfortable, even though small.

Cruise to Southeast Asia, Part One

On January 20 we set off on our trip to Southeast Asia, most of it spent aboard the Aegean Odyssey again. I was so pleased with the staff and arrangements on our first voyage in May 2012 that I hoped to repeat the experience. There were other differences, though, not just the destination. We were on our own, not traveling with the AIA or some other group, and the greater part of the cruise was spent at sea, with relatively few ports of call. Consequently, our experiences were not the same, neither in quantity nor quality. However, there are still many good things to remember. One memorable event, not at all a happy one, was the plane flight from SFO first to Hong Kong and then Singapore. The flight was delayed three hours, so we didn't take off until well after midnight. We were flying through darkness for most of the seventeen hours aboard, and, though I tried to get some sleep, I really couldn't. Wound up watching a marathon of Nurse Jackie episodes, simply because I was too groggy to read and that was the best entertainment on offer. After landing in Singapore, we had to deal with an additional two-hour flight to Bali and transfer to the Nikko Bali Resort, checking in close to 10:00 p.m. their time. We had no idea how long we had been awake. The first thing that struck me was the contrast between the elegant resort properties and the native settlements. The latter were simply open storefronts with overhanging roofs, facing directly on the highway (no sidewalks) and selling food, clothing, you name it. Juxtaposition of inordinately wealthy and poor took your breath away. Resorts are protected enclaves with guard booths. The luxury was embarrassing; the resort was also not cheap, though prices outside it were very low. On our first full evening there, we ate in the more casual restaurant, by no means a dress-up place. While the food was not terribly expensive, alcohol, except for beer, was through the roof--a circumstance we noticed everywhere in SE Asia. Still trying to get my bearings, and completely unfamiliar with the currency, I ordered what I thought was a nine-dollar bottle of Australian wine (that would have been its price in the US), only to find that in mentally converting I had put the decimal in the wrong place. While on land I drank a lot more beer this trip than I normally do.

Bali is famous for its native dances, though the two we attended were quite obviously scaled down and oriented towards the tourist, as the action on stage did not match the scenes narrated in the libretto. We were also taken on a planned excursion to a jewelry shop and a wood-working establishment--the latter featuring not only statuettes of traditional deities, but representations of anything and everything a tourist might like, including sensual Western-style naked females.

I was impressed by two things--the absolutely ravishing orchids, growing untended, and the widespread animism. While we were told that Buddhism and Islam were the two dominant religions of Indonesia, on Bali there was evidence of animism everywhere--statues of divinities wrapped with checkered cloth for good luck, small shrines with incense, including one on a banyan tree in the middle of a shopping center. I actually saw the clerk from the shop nearby go out and make an offering of food at the shrine before returning to sell souvenirs. Visits to Buddhist temples were problematic, because, like Islam, etiquette requires the removal of shoes in sacred places, and that was something Ron was unable to do. Temples were also located in places difficult of access, like Gunung Kawi atop a high cliff (left). After two days in Bali, we traveled by bus to the port, embarked on the Aegean Odyssey, and sailed the next day to the port of Semarang and a visit to Borobudur. Climbing up the various levels to the top of the temple was unforgettable, as the stonework was extremely impressive and the temple complex well preserved. While on the topmost level, I noticed people leaving offerings of flowers and food at the stupas, or chambers housing Buddha images. As soon as the worshipper left, the guards took the offerings away and trashed them. The guide explained that Borobudur was not a Buddhist shrine but a public monument, so leaving offerings is discouraged, though devout Buddhists do it anyway. It seemed rather a waste. On the way back to the ship, we bought a pound of Java coffee at a local plantation. Unfortunately, we didn't try it beforehand, and Java coffee requires some getting used to. We're blending it with Starbucks' French Roast. Back to the ship and on to Singapore. I was looking forward to the guest lectures on board. In that I was not disappointed.

APA in Seattle

From December 27 through January 7, Ron and I visited Daniel in Austin and then went on to Seattle for the annual American Philological Association meeting. We had a fine time in Austin--saw Daniel's new digs and met his third cat (actually a neighborhood cat who hangs around with Daniel's two--Daniel calls him Third Wheel), saw more movies than we usually see in any three months together, and had a very nice dinner at the home of Daniel's friend and co-worker Steve, who has an astounding art collection. Austin has many terrific restaurants, and it seems like we're always going to new ones. New Year's Eve was quiet, dinner with Daniel and then an hour watching HBO in our own hotel room. Daniel introduced us to a number of television series, Network, which I rather liked, and Breaking Bad. Brief review of the latter: the cinematography of the pilot was impressive, but neither of us cared that much about the main character to watch the rest of the series. (Since then, I've gotten into Homeland, also a show with "flawed protagonists," to use the technical term, but much more appealing ones.) On to the APA. Right off the plane we ran into Mike and Laura Lippman, a sign that I was going to see a lot of U of A people, chiefly archaeologists. Also had excellent get-togethers with Chris van den Berg, Susanna Braund, and Daniel Kiss. I had expected that Ron would drive down to Centralia to stay with his cousin Jim and wife Myrna while I attended the meeting by myself, but it turned out that they were not in town. The weather was chilly and wet, so Ron spent most of the time in the hotel--one brief excursion outside triggered his rheumatism. Luckily, the Sheraton in Seattle has one of the city's best restaurants, the Daily Grill. We had more than one dinner there and enjoyed them greatly. The Vergilian Society Board of Trustees meeting was upbeat, reflecting the organization's newfound prosperity and hopes for the future. The Friday sessions began with a highly enjoyable WCC breakfast and open meeting. The Vergilian Society general meeting and reception were also warm and welcoming. There were a number of very exciting panels, including the WCC panel on "Sexual Labor in the Ancient World". I was so impressed by Sarah Levin-Richardson's "Archaeology of Social Relationships in Pompeii's Brothel" that I immediately afterward nominated it for the Barbara McManus Award. Fittingly, the very last panel I attended, on Sunday afternoon, was one on "Catullan Identities," where I heard a paper by Leah Kronenberg, one of the students in my Catullus course at U Texas in 1991 and now a tenured associate professor at Rutgers. Little did I foresee that a quarter-century later I would be looking back on her work with such pleasure. For the CAMP Staged Reading, Mary Kay Gamel again produced her "Alcestis," with changes that reflected the input she received at F&C VI (Admetus and Phares were not reconciled at the end). I always go to APA meetings dreading what might happen--not recognizing someone I should know, embarrassing all around, or feeling completely isolated for three days straight--and yet I usually leave thinking that I've had a great time. APA meetings are not as intense any more as they were when all my friends were newly minted assistant professors scrabbling for jobs and tenure, but their good moments are highly satisfactory ones.

Thanksgiving in the Bay Area

As usual, Ron and I flew to the Bay Area for our Thanksgiving visit with my sister Jeanne and her husband Norm. On Saturday, after spending two days with them, we drove around the East Bay to some of our favorite haunts--the Eileen Fisher outlet store in San Leonardo, Wente Brothers Winery for a tasting and a gourmet lunch, and later to Berkeley for dinner at Bistro Liaison. While in Berkeley, we tried to see Lincoln, but it was completely sold out; eventually we saw it in Austin with Daniel over New Year's. On Sunday, we took BART into San Francisco for the opera: Tosca, with Angela Gheorghiu and Massimo Giordano. Roberto Frontali was that performance's Scarpia; I would have preferred to hear Mark Delevan, the alternate, but you take what you can get. Gheorghiu had previously not been well, and I thought she was good enough but not electrifying. Giordano's interpretation of Cavaradossi was more nuanced than most, especially in Act III. The common impression is that he goes to his death believing, like Tosca, that the execution is a sham; but this Cavaradossi appeared to realize, just from his facial expression, that Scarpia would never have granted a safe conduct. Nevertheless he does not reveal his doubts to Tosca and plays along, even while suspecting that he is about to die. That would make him much more of a hero than he is usually allowed to be. I liked that idea very much. For my birthday, Daniel gave me a Pashmina shawl, which I wore to the opera--see my profile. We had brilliant weather, and the Bay Area was beautiful, with the grapevines showing their fall colors.

Belated Report on OSF

This blog is being written long after our July 12-15 trip to Oregon to see four plays, all by Shakespeare, at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. We've done this annually for several years now, so we pretty much know Ashland by heart. In fact, a while back we even investigated the possibility of moving there, although the prices of homes and some second thoughts about the weather finally deterred us. Ashland is up in the hills, and even if the winters are far from being as bad as those in Illinois, they would still be cold and snowy. Better to enjoy the place in summer. Instead of flying to Medford out of Mesa, Arizona, as we've done in the past, we flew from Tucson on United. The last leg of the journey was on a Brazilia plane, only the second time in my life I've ever ridden on a prop job. It used to be common wisdom that jets were much safer, so I went to great efforts to avoid props. Although I was still apprehensive, the family behind us, who were also going to OSF, was thrilled--at least the father was, who kept telling his son that this was the way the Wright Brothers intended flight to be. (Technically, then, they should have been riding in a biplane.) While this particular father, obviously upper-class and highly educated, spent the entire trip passing on useful bits of knowledge to his son, another father-son combo we ran into the next day posed a complete contrast. At Liquid Assets, a wine bar where we had dinner, the adjoining booth was occupied by a fortyish man, his preteen kid, and two of the kid's friends. The man was having a glass of wine and telling the boys about his latest traffic ticket, which he received for doing ninety mph, although the cop gave him a break and reduced it to 85 so he would not have to go to court. Father says he has kept all the tickets he's ever received and has a stack that high. What kind of man brags about his traffic tickets to his kid? On the first evening we saw Henry V in the Elizabethan theater. John Tufts, who took the role of Hal in all three plays, was in top form--splendid delivery of both "Once more into the breach" and the "St. Crispin's Day" speech. I was a little disappointed with the wooing scene, though, thinking he should have displayed more charisma. Odd mix of costumes, the French in nineteenth-century dragoon uniforms, Henry and the English in modern dress belonging to several periods. Some liberties were taken with the play, I'm afraid--there is nothing in the text to indicate that Henry himself strangles Bardolph. The following day we attended a matinee of Romeo and Juliet, finishing up on Saturday with a double-header: Troilius and Cressida in the afternoon, As You Like It in the evening. The last two productions were OK but not riveting. OSF persists in the habit of setting plays in every period but Elizabethan England, so Troilius took place during the invasion of Iraq, which was a pretty obvious choice, and As You Like It was in Victorian costume. At this late date, I can't recall anything particularly objectionable about either one. Romeo, however, was another matter. Since the production was part of the ominously named Shakespeare for a New Generation initiative, it was pared down to its essentials and pitched to the intellectual and emotional level of a sixteen-year-old. Romeo bounced around like Tom Cruise on the Oprah Winfrey show. Mercutio's delivery of the Queen Mab speech was so clumsy that one wondered if he knew who Queen Mab was. I could go on but won't. Unfortunately, I read the reviews the next day and was astonished to find that the critics were enthusiastic. I could find only one person who agreed with me and he, too, was a blogger voicing a personal opinion--not someone whose thinking would have any impact on the OSF artistic director. I am giving serious thought to whether we should do this again next year. We've seen just too many clunkers--productions striving for originality, but so hoked up that Shakespeare's verse gets lost in the stage business. One reason I put off blogging about this year's experience was that I wanted to give time for my reactions to jell. My immediate pronouncements on Romeo would have been extremely raw. That said, though,there are other things about Ashland I really like. I love staying at Abbott's Cottages, a small complex of cabins on Oak Street. You're in the middle of town, within walking distance of the OSF theatres, but the cottages are set back against a ravine, and you really feel you're out in the woods.

The last time we were there, I saw three deer walking down the street below the hill on which the cottages are located; this time, we actually had a deer visit us. On the final morning I was carrying the bags out to the car when we saw her nibbling the grass right in front of the cottage. I ran back to get the camera and was just in time to snap this picture as she strolled away. Evidently she isn't too worried about people.

While I'm writing this in October, I'm already looking forward to our plan of travel over the winter: visiting Jeanne and Norm for Thanksgiving (with tickets for Tosca on Sunday afternoon); seeing Daniel after Christmas, then going on to APA in Seattle; and, finally, another cruise with Voyages to Antiquity in January and February, this time to Southeast Asia, where I have never been. I really feel that Ron and I have to do these things while we can, as we don't have that many good years left. Or, at least, that's the excuse I use.