Category Archives: Museums

Colonial plodding

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 Nicer weather today than yesterday, so I decided to walk down to the Raffles area and do the “colonial walk” detailed in Lonely Planet. Rather than get the MRT to the starting point, I thought I’d walk it. Singapore isn’t much bigger than London so there’s no real need to get the underground everywhere (though a lot of people do).

As soon as I got “south of the river”, I could tell I was in financial territory. Two things gave it away: the sudden switch of surrounding dress from floral shirts and shorts to cufflinks and sharply pressed trousers; and the fact that all the buildings were involved in a “let’s see who can be the tallest” competition. The traffic round this area is of London proportions as well, though a lot of the jams can be accounted for by polite drivers actually stopping at zebra crossings for pedestrians.

Before commencing the walk, I indulged in an ice lolly. Someone has managed to combing two of my favourite things and I was happy to part with $1.40 for a sour apply ice pole. Gooey ice cream and sour fruit flavours. Luvverly!

Beginning from Raffles Place MRT, I walked up towards Clifford Pier and past the Fullerton Hotel. I then crossed the road to see the Merlion statues. As the name suggests, this is some kind of lion/seahorse creature thingy and it squirts water into the sea where the river opens out. It’s a symbol of Singapore, though apparently the locals have a bit of a love/hate relationship with it (more on the hate side).

 On the opposite side of the river can be seen the Singapore Opera House. There seems to be this thing with opera houses and insane architects. Sydney, Singapore, Gateshead… they’re all mad. Utterly futzball. Yet strangely compelling.

Back over the bridge and a quick stop at the Dalhousie Obelisk, erected to a visiting minister around 1850. He’s credited with making Singapore the financial power it is today.

By now it was fast approaching midday and the sun was starting to get a little warm, so I chose to go into the Museum of Asian Civilisations for a couple of hours until the big glowing ball in the sky decided to drop down a bit.

For $5, this is an engrossing way to spend a couple of hours. In fact, there was far more there than I was prepared to take in. There are eight major galleries covering religion, history, entertainment, politics… you name it. All from most of the southern Asian countries as well as Singapore itself. I met my first genuine Russian people as well, and exchanged email addresses. Looks like I could be adding Moscow onto my travel plans, though I’m still not sure about flying Aeroflot!

Shortly after 2pm, I emerged into the still blazing sunshine and walked north past the Victoria Opera House, old Parliament House and old Supreme Court. On the other side of the road were the Cenotaph, the Indian War Memorial, the Tan Kim Sang Fountain (dedicated to the second Asian to become a Justice of the Peace) and the Lim Bo Sang Memorial (he fought in the underground against the Japanese and died during torture). All kept in immaculate condition with beautiful surroundings.

 A little further up the road is the Civilian War Memorial dedicated to all the non-military persons who died during the Japanese occupancy of WWII. The locals call it the “chopsticks” memorial and you can see why – it does indeed look like four chopsticks pointing skywards.

Across the road from there is the largest mall in Singapore, Suntec City. This surrounds the world’s largest fountain, the Fountain of Wealth, which I strode over to see. During the day, it burbles rather than shooting vast amounts of water into the air. Instructions for its use are simple – walk around it clockwise, three times, with your hand touching the water while making a wish.

Well, I’ve spent the last few months blowing eyelashes, crossing fingers,gazing for shooting stars and rubbing pretty much every holy monument I can find with no apparent luck, but I’m not one to give up hope (translation: I’m stubborn like my dad), so I performed the ritual. Don’t hold your breath, but at least I can say I tried.

I was starting to realise that lunch would have been a good idea around four hours earlier, so I began to walk back towards the Bugis area and the hawker market I’d used the day before. On the way I snapped a couple of pictures of the Raffles Hotel (complete with large Indian gentlemen in spotless white jackets and turbans – very “Last Days”). Today I ate mostly duck and rice – which was gorgeous – with watermelon and rose apple for desert. Delicious. All washed down woth a glass of Tiger back at the hostel.

After a couple more fruitless hours trying to find accomodation in Goa for the festive season that wasn’t going to cost us a fortune, I once again grabbed my camera and strode off back towards the Fountain of Wealth.

 It was dark now, and the fountain was lit from behind with bright colours and a laser show was being played on the spraying water. I was actually hoping to see jets shooting up into the stratosphere, but instead the water is sprayed outwards in an arc so that it can be used as a screen.

I spent half an hour watching cartoons being projected and then walked back to the hostel. I was peckish on the way back so stopped at for what turned out to be one of the worst burgers I’ve ever eaten. The shop is called WOS Burger (I think – I’ve thrown the wrapper out) and I picked a spicy cheeseburger from the menu. After queuing for almost ten minutes behind one person – who walked off with two soft drinks – I ordered my burger and paid my $3.55. In return I got a plastic table number, even though I was taking away. After another ten minutes, my burger finally arrived.

As fast as my legs could carry me (not fast by now – it had been a long day), I pegged it back to the Inn Crowd, sat down, opened the wrapper and almost balked at the smell. I don’t know what fillings they had in it, but it smelled weird. The cheese was minging and the whole thing looked like it had already been eaten once.

Still, I was hungry. OK, it was spicy. It had cheese. It was a burger. Beyond that… I actually think McD’s are better. It was that bad. As I type this I’m hungry again so it didn’t even hit the spot. Bah. Looks like another expensive visit to 7-11. Posted by Picasa

Lazy(ish) day

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 I was up fairly early this morning, around 7:30, as Esther has an early start for work – she’s the Dutch girl I probably mentioned earlier who I’m sharing my dorm with. I’m an early riser anyway, so this suits me.

I’d decided that I wanted to go to the museum today. It’s nearby, kind of, and free. The last time I was in Darwin, I actually walked past it when I went for a stroll along the beach but I didn’t go in. It is quite a walk from the city centre, so I opted for a bus this time.

As far as museums go, it’s quite a small one. Having said that, what they do have is rather nice and they do seem to change the exhibits and displays round fairly often. When I visited they had a display of Aboriginal art, predominantly from the local nation, a collection of stuffed native animals, another sizeable display detailing the evolution of many of the creatures, a boat yard, cyclone exhibit, huge display of Aboriginal basketwork and a crocodile called Sweetheart.

Sweetheart is a permanent exhibit and his (yes – “his”) story is a sad one. During the 1970s, he became well known in the area for attacking boats and even capsized a couple although nobody was ever hurt. There are verious theories as to why he did this (the noise of the engines mimicking a territorial croc grunt is one) but otherwise it’s simply not normal behaviour. Eventually, by 1979, he was considered too dangerous so a trap was set. Full marks to the Aussies who were going to shift him to another location rather than just shoot him.

Sadly, things didn’t go exactly to plan. After being caught and drugged, Sweetheart got tangled on a log and the anaesthetic administered also didn’t seem to work correctly and the big croc died before they could get him out of the river. So, they stuffed him and put him in a museum as a fine example of his kind. He’s 780kg and 5.1m long – and still isn’t as large as salties get.

 The cyclone exhibit is also eye-opening, giving details of a huge storm – Cyclone Tracy – that hit Darwin around December 24th/25th 1974 and which pretty much demolished the entire city. The before and after aerial photographs are particularly shocking, though the “worst” part is a pitch dark room where a recording of sounds of the cyclone battering the city is played at full volume. A sign on the door warns that it could be upsetting to people who remember Cyclone Tracy. Well, it scared the willies out of me.

If you go, allow about 2-3 hours depening on whether you’re a browser or a looker. It’s on bus route 4 from the city centre and costs $1.40 each way. You can walk it as well, though I’d guess it’s 40-60 minutes’ walk in baking heat from the CBD.

In the afternoon, I did my old Brisbane trick and headed for the library to read comics. And Lonely Planet Guides. And play on the X-Box. Yes, the library has an X-Box you can book for 30 minutes sessions for free. Their collection of Lonely Planets is also superb and they’re in the reference section so can’t be checked out. Ideal for travellers like me!

I did pop online again later on as many of you are likely aware, and my email is down to a more manageable level. After that, a quick dip in the pool and off out for dinner with Sharna, the birthday girl from the Vic.

Getting in the mood for the next 2 1/2 months, we went to a place called Nirvana which sells Thai, Malay and Indian food. Good stuff, too, and very reasonably priced. The only complaint I had was the usual restaurant issue of never seeming to want to sort the bill for you, so we were late leaving for the cinema and missed the first couple of minutes of Borat. I laughed a lot at this film, but feel really rather guilty about it. Amazingly, it actually gives Jackass a run for its money in the insensitivity and disgusting stakes – I can understand why the Khazakhstani government wanted it banned!

After that, a quick drink with Sharna’s mates and then we each headed home. Me with an 8am rise, Sharna with a 5:30am one. Ouch. Posted by Picasa

Couldn’t organise a …

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 Today’s touristy escapade was a visit to the Castlemaine XXXX brewery. Visit it I did. Only to get there five minutes after the tour had set off, and a 3-hour wait till the next one. I wasn’t really up for sitting there and finishing two novels, so I walked back into town.

On the way back, I spotted an advert for a diving course for only £160 or thereabouts. Investigating, I found there was actually a variety of courses and I’m now seriously looking at getting SSI or PADI certification up north after I’ve been to Melbourne. In fact, I spent so long in the travel agents’ I ended up having to run like heckers into Brisbane so I wasn’t late for a lunch “date”. Whoops.

After lunch, I walked up to the Museum of Queensland (there’s also a Brisbane museum that I’ve not been to yet) which was quite entertaining. I missed the “large mammals” exhibit by two days, but the rest of the place is worth popping in, especially as it’s free. The exhibits cover biodiversity, the history of Queensland, transport, indigenous population and a large research department. In addition, they’re currently displaying the winners of the recent BBC Wildlife “photogapher of the year” competition which was absolutely superb.

 The research area was very impressive, with a stuffed example of just about every native mammal and bird in Queensland. Given that Queensland has the most diverse range of wildlife of any Australian state (and pretty much anywhere in the world), this is a whole lot of stuffing. On the whole, it’s a small but enjoyable museum and worth a visit if you’re in the area. There’s also a kids’ science play-exhibit thingy, but that incurs a cost so I didn’t bother!

The evening was just a pleasant meal with Belinda, who I’m keeping company while her hubby’s away. We watched some pretty atrocious television and then retired earlier than normal. I feel a cold coming on, though I’m putting this down to a lack of sleep. I’m waking before 6am every morning and can’t get back to sleep again. Posted by Picasa

Invercargill

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 Invercargill is 150 this year. I feel about the same age after my journey down. The coach set off at 5:30pm from Christchurch and was pretty much fully laden after a pickup at the airport. Most people on board were only heading as far as Dunedin, where we were due just before midnight. I was long-haul. All the way to Invercargill on the south coast. ETA – 3am. In fairness, this isn’t too bad given than Hanoi to Danang was 17 hours! Costwise, this trip was a weeny bit more expensive, though. Roughly £23 as opposed to nearer a fiver for the Vietnamese journey.

I went with Knightrider – the only other bus service undertaking this journey does so during daylight hours and costs a fair bit more. Trains don’t run this far down, I don’t think, and a flight would have cost three times as much. My only regret is that I was being driven through some beautiful scenery… all of it after sunset so I couldn’t see it.

 Rest breaks were frequent enough, including a half-hour stop for KFC at 9:30. We also came to a halt around 10:30 for a driver change. It seems one guy drives from Christchurch down to here, then swaps buses with the northbound driver. That way he ends up back in Christchurch at the end of his drive, while the Invercargill based guy drives back to his own home. Smart enough.

There was a delay on the changeover as the northbound coach had a flat tyre. They couldn’t fix it, so had to wait for a towtruck. I’m glad I was heading south!

The coach itself was fairly small, comfy and had a telly at the front. In total, we watched three films: Entrapment, Mr and Mrs Smith and Arnie’s Eraser. I’d seen all three before and the volume was a little low most of the time due to the big diesel engine chugging beneath us, but entertaining nontheless. Reading wasn’t an option as the lights were out and I always nod off when I read on buses anyway. This isn’t comfortable and I often end up drooling on the person next to me.

 We offloaded most of the passengers in Dunedin, and five of us continued on to Invercargill, arriving there more or less at 3am on the dot. I managed maybe an hour’s sleep in the latter stages as I had two seats to myself at last.

Invercargill is chilly. Even I had to put on my loaned fleece (thanks Rob!) and my teeth chattered as I walked in search if the I-Site from where I would be picked up the next morning. Well – later that same morning. I didn’t bother booking a hotel or a hostel as it didn’t seem worth it for the four hours I’d be there. Besides, I had investigated and there is nowhere in Invercargill with a 24-hopur reception in the vicinity of where I arrived. I wasn’t about to fork out $100 for 4 hours, plus a taxi to the I-Site the next morning.

Stopping at a police station, I picked up a map and directions from a very helpful policewoman and found myself at the I-Site/museum at 3:20. Only five hours until my coach arrived.

The sky was clear, but the streetlamps glared so it was hard to see the sky. To the left of the museum I spotted an observatory. Storing my bags in a fairly large phone box, I walked round and the skies just cleared. There are no lights round the back of the observatory and it’s astounding how brightly the stars shone overheard. I was tempted to clamber up the observatory (the spiral stairs round it were open), but I spotted a security camera and a car in the car park. I wasn’t in the mood to be arrested as they may not have released me in time for my bus and ferry.

 I had walk slightly further afield, locating a petrol station (where I bought some munchies), a park and a war memorial. I took some nice night-time snaps and then bedded down for an hour in the phone box. This isn’t the first time this trip I’ve slept on concrete, but the last time it was pitch dark and around 30 degrees. In Invercargill, I had security lights blinking and it was nearer 6 degrees.

When I woke up, I meandered down to McD’s for some brekkie. Like Singapore, they have wireless. Unlike Singapore, it’s secure and unavailable to Joe Public. Boo. However, they open at 6:30, have very clean loos and you can watch the sun rise around the war memorial from the McCafé window so it’s not all bad.

While sitting having breakfast, I went through the local paper – The Southland Times. It’s typically “local” with “local” stories and 3-days-out-of-date international news, but it passed the time. It also contained a 150th Anniversary special about Invercargill with some nice pictures and history in it. I’d already noticed about a dozen streets named after UK rivers (Tyne, Don, Dee, Tay, Forth, Tweed…), but there was other nice trivia in there. Such as when vehicles were eventually regulated, there was a speed limit set for going around corners of 10mph. Also, Invercargill monitored its own traffic untill 1995 when it merged with the national department. The sepia photos of every mayor over the last 150 years was also quite an eye-opener. Some impressive beards before the turn of the 19th/20th century!

Come 8am, I wandered back up to the I-Site and waited for my bus to Bluff. It was a very small bus. In fact, it was a taxi. There were only three people to be collected, so the ferry company didn’t bother sending the bus out. Nice! The taxi driver and the other two passengers (two Aussies) were really chatty and the 20-minute drive to Bluff passed quickly.

The ferry terminal is located about as far south on the mainland as you can get. It’s quite close to an aluminium smelting works, and I think the company that own the works are one of the main sponsors of the Kakapo project. After a short wait, we jumped onto the ferry for the choppy ride to Halfmoon Bay on Stewart Island. Despite the catamaran design of the ferry, it wasn’t the smoothest of journeys so I stayed outside for most of it. Losing my lunch at Kaikora is still an all-too-recent memory. Posted by Picasa

HCM City Walkabout (part 1)

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 Quite a busy day today. I didn’t get up as early as I meant to, but this didn’t cause any problems. Earplugs purchased in Auckland helped keep out the noisy street sounds so I was well rested and the bed is pretty comfy.

I had a plan of action and I went to it with gusto. Until I stepped outside into the stifling city heat, at which point gusto went back to the UK and left me on my own.

My first stop was the British Consulate, which is about a 30 minute walk from my hotel. The walk was pleasant, though traffic is definitely more hectic here than in Hanoi. Skills learned there, though, are just as useful here. The methods by which you cross the road are the same and I navigated my way safely to D Nguyen Du and the Consulate. Five minutes later, I walked out with my emergency card and a huge cardboard DHL envelope with some bumph in that I had to lug around with me for the rest of the day.

 The next place I was headed was the War Remnants Museum. I’d been forewarned that it’s quite harrowing, and I don’t deal that well with stuff like that, but still it fascinated me so I toddled over. Lonely Planet needs a small update from the 2005 edition – the museum is now open until 12:00 before closing for lunch, and the price has risen to 15,000d. The entrance is on D Vo Van Tan and I got there around 10:15 – “plenty time” according to the nice lady on reception.

There are six main exhibit areas, plus a selection of captured US Army equipment scattered around the grounds outside the main buildings. All the exhibits are well labelled in fairly good to perfect English, as well as Vietnamese, Chinese and Japanese in most cases. I walked round in a non-obvious fashion, starting with some of the hardware. The Huey helicopter can be clambered up to look inside and still has its machine gun mounted by one door. Two jets and a bomber are also sat around, as are two tanks, a mounted gun and an impressive collection of bombs and shells. One, the Blu 82 Seismic Bomb, was capable of destroying everything within a 100m radius, and causing massive damage as far away as 3.2km from where it was dropped. Now you tell me – how do you avoid civilian casualties with an instrument like that? Answer – you don’t. Especially if you don’t care – you’re only desparate to get your backside out of a mess it should never have been in in the first place.

 True to expectation, the museum is biased, but the displays and exhibits are factual – they’ve not altered any truths. Some of these truths are very hard to handle, including the exhibit showing the conditions some prisoners were kept in – feet chained to a stone “bunk” for years. When the prisoners were released, many were paralysed and deformed.

Talking of deformities, several sections are given up to the well-known effects of Agent Orange, the herbicide used to devastate vast swathes of land in Vietnam by the Americans… which also caused huge numbers of horrendous genetic disorders to the people who spread it, those who it landed on and their offspring. Of course, to date the US has done nothing to make reparation for this to anyone other than it’s own troops – and this includes troops from other countries fighting alongside them. I know I’m rattling on, but I also know that a vast number of Americans themselves are ashamed of their government’s ability to care more about a few million dollars then they are the pride of their people. And no, I don’t expect to get past customs if they recognise me should I ever get to North America again!

I left the most hard-hitting exhibit till last. The gallery in the main building depicting some horrific photographs of the injuries suffered by innocent civilians. Not spies, not underground soldiers, not terrorists… innocent civilians. Napalm burns. Phosphor burns. Missing limbs. Deformities from chemical warfare. Sickening, awful photos of people moments before “shots were fired” and their lives ended. Many of these photographs I’d seen before, but wasn’t aware of the situation in which they were taken. The copies hanging on the walls come complete with the corresponding text from the issues of Life and other magazines in which they were printed, and a handful of words makes each picture hit you with a heavier blow than you could ever believe.

 The two jars with deformed foetuses in give shock value, but in all honesty didn’t really affect me. One man behind me I heard to utter “what the hell is that?” before peering closer. A photograph of a small track littered with the bodies of children and women was the first thing to really gutshot me. By the time we got that far, this same man was openly crying.

By the time I got to the paintings drawn by children for a competition, I pretty much joined him. There were several themes to the pictures – war through children’s eyes, peace and so forth. But one in particular really got to me. I don’t really know why, but I think it’s simply because: “Why should a child have to paint something like this? Why should they even need to ask these questions?”. The title was “Dream for Agent Orange not to exist on my homeland any longer” and it was painted by a child from a secondary school. It just shows than in a relatively poor nation, over three decades may have passed but such atrocious and awful devastation still affects the children here now. And frankly, it just bloody well shouldn’t.

I can only hope that today’s (and tomorrow’s) children learn from our mistakes instead of copying them.

Anyway. Soapbox back under bed. This is meant to be a cheery travel blog, not a rant (that’s what my other blog’s for). Still, this is a place to visit that will get to you – or it should if you’re remotely human (i.e. not a politician), and is definitely worthy of your time should you visit HCM City. Posted by Picasa