Asia Travel - Part 28

Vietnam: War and Peace

by Barry Truter

It’s January 26th and I’m holed up in the Old Quarter of Hanoi for a week, falling for the city despite the traffic which is killing me – almost! Some cities have one-way and two-way streets; Hanoi has all-way streets. Endless streams of motorbikes weave between cyclists, pedestrians, street vendors and push carts. Buses, trucks and cars wait for no one. There are three rules for crossing the street; 1) walk slowly, 2) don’t stop, and 3) don’t jump back. Just trust that the motorbikes will find their way around you – and they do.

I’ve made my way across Northern Thailand and Laos by train, bus, minivan and riverboat. Now I’m in the Socialist Republic of Vietnam (pop: 90 million), and it’s time for some Hanoi culture. The Vietnamese Women’s Museum has excellent presentations on marriage, birth, family life, women in history, clothing and textiles. I combine it with a trip to the Hang Long Water Puppet Theatre. In a small seated venue a dozen musicians sing and play traditional instruments while wooden puppets dance in a pool of water, artfully synchronized.

Hanoi is a contrast of old and new with some intriguing contradictions. The National Museum is housed in an old colonial building. The 900 year old Temple of Literature was a center of Confucian learning and thought. The French-era Opera House is beautifully appointed … and located opposite the Hanoi stock exchange in a square that includes a Gucci store and the Hanoi Hilton, that’s the hotel, not the prison which is across town.

The French named the prison “Maison Centrale”, the Vietnamese patriots imprisoned by the French called it “The Hell Hole”, the American POWs sarcastically referred to it as the “Hanoi Hilton”. The official name for the prison now turned museum is “Ho Loa”, and its exhibits are predictably disturbing.

Ho Chi Minh’s mausoleum is set in an extensive complex that includes the Presidential Palace which he declined to live in, and the modest wood house on stilts in which he spent his final years.

One day I take a break from the city and visit Halong Bay. A UNESCO heritage site, it consists of 2,000 limestone islets dotting the bay. The scenery is breath-taking and the caves on some of the islets even more so.

But Hanoi’s Old Quarter is a source of wonder too – vibrant, vigorous, visceral. Delicious pho (pronounced “fa”) dished up in noodle soup restaurants. Egg coffee served on a balcony overlooking Hoan Kiem Lake. Sidewalk food stalls, bakeries, bars and coffeehouses proliferate. The narrow streets are packed with mini hotels and hostels, family shops, crafts and trades, and small businesses – the never-ending hustle of street life.

The Reunification Express overnight sleeper train takes 33 hours from Hanoi to Saigon (officially Ho Chi Minh City). But I’m breaking journey at a number of stops on the way including Hue, Da Nang (for Hoi An) and Nha Trang. Vietnamese trains are not for the faint-hearted but along with local buses they give one a good insight into common modes of transportation between cities.

Being in Vietnam has brought back memories of the Sixties. In the U.S. the civil rights struggle raged. Externally, the cold war ran hot, and terminology like “fallout shelter” and “intercontinental ballistic missile” entered my lexicon. Cuba was much in the news, and Vietnam starting to be so. Who can forget those searing images of the first Vietnamese monk to commit suicide by self-immolation in protest at the brutality of Nguyen Dinh Diem’s South Vietnam government. That was in 1963 in Saigon. The monk came from a monastery in Hue, and there is a memorial in the Thien Mu pagoda there. In Nha Trang, the Long Son pagoda is dedicated to the Buddhist monks and nuns who died protesting Diem’s repressive regime.

I’ve been curious about the impact of the “Vietnam War” on this country. Vietnamese history cites many wars, not just the one we talk about. There are earlier wars against the Chinese and the Mongols, conflicts between the Nguyen lords of the north and the Champa kingdom of the south, the war of independence against the French (aka First Indochina War), the civil war (aka Second Indochina War or American War) between north and south divided politically by the 1954 Geneva convention and geographically by the 17th parallel, and most recently the 1980’s war against the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia.

Ho Chi Minh is still very much revered as the leader of the independence movement. And the communist party he helped found is still firmly in power. But economic policies have changed dramatically since reunification, and the country is very much open for business. However, the wounds of war take long to heal and I sense a difference in attitudes between northerners and southerners especially among the older generation. Forgive but not forget seems to sum it up best.

Reminders of the civil war can be found everywhere. In Hanoi, they are present in all the museums. In Hue, capital of the Nguyen Dynasty, a large national flag flies from the Citadel which dominates the Imperial City and Forbidden Purple Palace. The national flag flew here for 28 days when the Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army captured the Citadel during the 1968 Tet offensive.

It’s Tet (lunar new year) again, and the shops are full of red and gold decorations, lanterns, paper money. As I travel north to south from Hanoi to HCM City (Saigon), the preparations and lead-up ceremonies become more prominent. New clothes, presents for the kids, large dinner parties, incense and devotions, and paper money burned on the street.

Hue is near the old DMZ (demilitarized zone). Ironically, this area was the scene of some of the fiercest fighting in the Sixties. Ninety percent of the old walled city was obliterated and is slowly being restored as a UNESCO World Heritage site.

Hoi An is a wonderfully historic city, and also a UNESCO World Heritage site. Night lanterns light up the streets of the old town with its Chinese clan houses, pagodas and covered bridges. I stumble upon a house that belonged to one of the early revolutionaries in the city. His grandson proudly shows me photos of grandpa with General Giap, chief architect of the French defeat at Dien Bien Phu, and of the strategy that led to the North’s victory in the civil war.

Hoi An is where I take a cooking class from a hilarious instructor who manages to find bad puns for every ingredient … “sprinkle, sprinkle little salt” … “open sesame seed”. She prompts us as we cook fried spring rolls, sweet and sour chicken soup, green papaya salad, tuna in banana leaf, and aubergine in a claypot. We slice, dice, chop, stir, fry, drink, eat and laugh our way through the class.

Da Nang (near Hoi An) was home to the second largest American air base in the world. Now it’s a thriving port city. A 6.3 kilometre tunnel running through the Annamite Range has made the journey between Hue and Da Nang much safer and faster.

Nha Trang is a sun, sand and sea beach town. It’s predicted to grow exponentially. The Long Son pagoda is full of families praying for good fortune in the new year, and paying their respects to their ancestors. Clouds of incense carry their prayers heavenward past the enormous white Buddha atop the hill overlooking the pagoda. The Tet celebrations culminate in a spectacular fireworks display from barges off the beach. Thousands of people are out to watch, young and old. The beach is vast, and there is much construction in progress. Signs in Russian and English vie for attention.

The train arrives in Saigon at 4 am. If Hanoi is reserved and proud, then Saigon is brash and commercial and in-your-face. But as I wander the streets later that day the city feels deserted. Saigon is normally all hustle-bustle business but the northerners who flock to Saigon for work have gone home for Tet and the city is half empty. Stalls are closed in Ben Thanh market. Businesses in the somewhat grungy Pham Ngu Lao Road have “back in a week” signs up. It’s a welcome respite as Saigon will soon return to its usual traffic mania.

The War Remnants Museum is a potent reminder of the ravages of war. The courtyard has a predictable selection of American tanks, armoured cars, planes. But inside is one of the most powerful exhibits of war photography I have ever seen documenting the effects of napalm, phosphorous bombs, chemical weapons, land mines and artillery shells. An estimated 3 million Vietnamese died in the American War. Two thousand Americans and 300,000 Vietnamese are still listed as missing. During the war, roughly 10% of the country was sprayed with 72 million litres of chemicals, of which 66% was Agent Orange. The dioxides in Agent Orange remain in the soil damaging the health of future generations.

Just northeast of Saigon, the Cu Chi tunnels are fascinating and disturbing. The local villagers initially built family bomb shelters as protection against aerial bombardment and then realized they could make them safer and more effective by linking them into 250 kilometers of tunnels that acted both as a defence and a base for guerrilla operations. I lower myself into a rabbit hole no more than two foot square, place the camouflaged cover over my head, and experience the confining darkness. In another tunnel I crouch-crawl through a section that winds, narrows, descends, and eventually emerges into sunlight 100 metres away. I shudder to think what might have awaited me had I emerged forty-five years ago.

But Vietnam certainly isn’t all looking through the past darkly. If anything it’s the opposite. Today’s Vietnam has an optimism and vibrancy about it. The West may be industrial … the Vietnamese are industrious. And I am truly in awe of the beauty of this country and the resilience of its people.

4-Day Northern Vietnam Tour Including Hanoi, Halong Bay, and Trang An Grottoes

If You Go:

My trip through Vietnam was a combination of solo travel and travel with “Geckos”, a small group, eco-tour company. I left myself lots of solo time in Hanoi and Hue before joining the tour in Hue. I left the tour in Saigon and spent some solo travel time there before crossing Cambodia to Bangkok in Thailand. There are plenty of safe, comfortable and clean 2 and 3 star hotels in Vietnam costing under $50. I recommend traveling by local bus and train if you have the time.

Cu Chi Tunnels Tour – a journey to fierce battlefield in the Vietnam war

About the author:
Barry Truter is a musician and writer based in Vancouver, Canada. He has been a traveller all his life, having lived in India, Hong Kong, Fiji, USA, Pakistan, England and Canada, as well as a spell at sea working on a freighter. His most recent articles have appeared in Vancouver’s The Province newspaper and in the Canadian Folk Music Journal. As a musician, he performs solo and with his band, Fraser Union (www.fraserunion.com).

All photographs by Barry Truter, except #7 by a bystander:
Hanoi traffic is not for the timid
One of two thousand islets scattered around Halong Bay
Time out for a quiet board game by Hoan Kiem Lake in Hanoi
A gate in the walled Imperial City of Hue
The courtyard of a Chinese clan house in Hoi An
Statue of the Buddha overlooking the Long Son pagoda in Nha Trang
The author emerging from a hideout in the Cu Chi district

Gokarna, India: Mirjan Fort

by Anuradha Shankar

“This is what Sleeping Beauty’s castle must have looked like,” I think, as I survey the scene. A thick carpet of green covers everything in sight. Even the towering walls rise without once breaking the green cover, adding to the feeling that I am in a land long forgotten, left behind in time.

I am not too far from the truth – I am at Mirjan fort, near Gokarna. The fort, built first in the 12th century and extended in the 16th century, has a long and glorious history. It was the seat of Rani Chennabhairadevi, ruling under the aegis of the Vijayanagar Empire. She was better known as the Pepper Queen, or Raina da Pimenta, as she controlled the spice trade in the area. The fort was especially conducive for trade, located as it was, on the banks of the Aghanashini River, a branch of the Sharavati. The fort changed hands many times, from the Rani to the Sultans of Bijapur, the Marathas, and eventually the British. The unification of the area under the British, as well as the setting up of newer and modern ports along the coast, ultimately rendered the fort ineffectual, and it was abandoned, leaving nature to reclaim it for her own.

It is only recently that the fort has come into focus again, and efforts are on to restore it, at least to show us a glimpse of its past glory. As of now, the archaeological department has only managed to clear the front part of the fort, and part of its ramparts. Much is left to be done, as is apparent from the rear portions of the fort, which is what remind us of Sleeping Beauty’s castle, forgotten for a hundred years.

From the outside, it is still apparent why the fort was such a stronghold. Spread over an area of 10 acres, huge double walls protect the interiors, and the whole fort is surrounded by a moat, which, in its heyday, was connected to the river, fed by canals which continue to irrigate the fertile fields which surround the area.

The fort has four entrances, of which only the main one has been cleared so far. Among the others, one was for sole use of the royal family – a private entrance, so to speak; one was a direct approach from the river, and the last one was for the entry of goods – a service entrance. These entrances are barely visible, covered by ruins and foliage.

The inside of the fort is equally impressive, especially when it comes to the planning that went into it. Recent excavations have revealed, among others, an audience hall, part of what must have been the kitchen, and also mechanisms of water transport and storage. There are deep wells inside the fort, providing fresh water, and connecting them, water channels. There are water troughs for the horses, tanks storing water for the kitchen, and even provision for storage and disposal of waste water. Of course, most of these are in ruins, due to the neglect of centuries, and we can just get a glimpse into what made the fort function so well in its prime.

Under the branches of a tree are some idols. These are the only evidence of a temple inside the fort. The biggest idol found here is that of the goddess Mahishasura-Mardini. In all probability, the temple was dedicated to her. Facing her is a stone image of a lion, her vehicle. Around them, lie various stone sculptures, mostly of snakes. The snake is venerated in this part of the country. It is no surprise to see them here. More interesting are the hero stones, and stones which seem to tell stories, lying broken by the side. Unfortunately, there is nothing to tell us what they are.

What we can see of the fort is simply the tip of the iceberg. Literally, it’s only the top portion of the fort which is accessible today. More interesting are the underground chambers and passages, built for protection and to facilitate escape, but which today lie in ruins, and are unapproachable. The ASI is, to give them credit, trying to restore the fort to its former glory. The fort was built using the locally available laterite stones, and we saw ASI personnel at work, trying to restore the turrets with remnants from the ruins or similar laterite stones, still plentiful in the area.

And thus, work goes on, trying to reclaim our heritage from the passage of time. Meanwhile, nature continues her work, scattering seeds into new crevices, growing moss over newly laid bricks, the monsoons aiding her in her work. And the cows continue to graze, oblivious to their role in this clash between humanity and nature, unaware of the history beneath their hooves. And as we turn back, and bid goodbye to Mirjan fort, there is a tiny part of me, which wishes the fort stayed as it was, a fairy tale castle, hidden from vandals by nature.

14DAYS NEPAL TRIP WITH JUNGLE SAFARI- RAFTING-TREKKING WITH 5STAR GOKARNA RESORT

If You Go:

LOCATION: Mirjan Fort is located at Kumta, about 10 kilometers from Gokarna.

HOW TO REACH:
♦ By Road: Kumta is on the highway, and is well connected to both, Mangalore as well as Karwar and Goa by bus. Buses from Mumbai also halt at Kumta. Autos are available from Kumta. It is easier to stay in or around Gokarna and make a visit to the fort.
♦ By Train: Certain trains on the Mumbai – Mangalore – Trivandrum route stop at Kumta. The other nearest railway station would be Gokarna Road. Regular passenger trains run on the route, and make a stop at Kumta.
♦ By Air: Mangalore (200 Km) or Goa (180 Km) would be the nearest airports.

WHERE TO STAY: There are plenty of hotels in the area, suiting every possible budget, from beach shacks to homestays to five star resorts. However, most of them would be situated around Gokarna, Udupi, Mangalore, Karwar and Goa.

16DAYS EVEREST BASE CAMP TREK WITH 5 STAR ACCOMMODATION AT GOKARNA FOREST RESORT

About the author:
Homemaker and Travel Blogger Anuradha Shankar lives in Mumbai, India. She loves exploring known and less known places in India, and is as fascinated by their stories and legends as her 10 year old son, whom she usually drags along on her travels. Her blog, A Wandering Mind, is her attempt to showcase her country to the world.

All photos are by Anuradha Shankar.

Cathedrals, Churches, Chapels and Convents

Old Goa, India

by R. Niranjan Das

It was a lovely morning ride on my hired Royal Enfield all the way from Anjuna to Velha Goa. Velha Goa! That is the Portuguese translation for Old Goa. In fact the name Velha Goa is quite commonly used by people of that region. From Panjim, along with the Enfield, I had River Mandovi for companionship through the villages of Ribander till I reached the UNESCO World Heritage site of Old Goa. As I rode from Panaji, the landscape, houses, people and everything changed. Even though it was crowded, the place with numerous Cathedrals, Churches, Chapels and Convents still holds an old world charm. The prominence of Christianity cannot be ignored in this part of the world.

Built by the Bijapur Sultans in the 15th century, the city was evangelised from the 16th to the 18th century by the Portuguese before abandoning it in the 18th century after it was hit by a plague. The beautiful structures have intricate carvings both on the outside and inside.

Basilica De Bom Jesus with its imposing facade and baroque architecture stands tall and was the first one that I visited. The Basilica looked quite different from others with respect to its dark colour and size. Though it might seem dilapidated at the first look, the Basilica with its reddish brown colour, ornamented pillars and magnificent carvings stands rock solid even after 400 years. Dedicated to infant Jesus, this grand structure also rests the mortal remains of St.Francis Xavier which is taken out for public viewing once in ten years. The interiors of the basilica has a lot of art work, murals and numerous altars which captivate every visitor.

As I came out of the Basilica, a few meters away stood the white coloured Se Cathedral of Santa Catarina. Dedicated to the Catherine of Alexandria, it was once considered the largest cathedral in Asia. Built in Portuguese architecture, it was constructed to portray the power and fame of the Portuguese. The cathedral also houses many altars, paintings and a large bell known as the Golden bell.

From Se Cathedral I moved to Church of St.Francis of Assisi which also has baroque style architecture with beautiful frescoes on the walls and ceilings. The church also houses some brilliant 17th century wall paintings. Next to it lies an archaeological museum which displays ancient statues and portraits.

Half a kilometer away lies the beautiful Viceroy’s Arch next to Mandovi quay. The arch built in 16th century must have been witness to thousands of people landing on the Goan shores. Near to the arch lies the Gateway of the palace of Adil Shah. Built before the arrival of the Portuguese, it is only the gateway that survives now.

From the gateway I walked towards the immaculate looking Church of St. Cajetan. It is built in Corinthian architectural style using laterite blocks with two towers on either side of the main dome. The interiors of the church look neat and its altar is one of the most beautiful ones I have ever seen.

I walked further towards the de Bom Jesus Basilica and from nowhere appeared the Chapel of St. Catherine which looked abandoned and dilapidated. It was built by Alfonso de Albuquerque in early 16th century when he took over the possession of Goan territory.

In a different direction but not far away from de Bom Jesus lies the Towers of St.Augustine church. Built in the early 16th century this church was over a period of time abandoned and neglected which led to the fall of the vault and the body of the church in mid 19th century. By the mid 20th century every part of the church collapsed except for one of the four towers that existed. Now this single tower is the only remnant left.

Next to the Augustine tower lies the Convent of Santa Monica and a christian museum which definitely is worth a visit.

A few meters away from Santa Monica and Augustine tower is the Church of Our Lady of Rosary. Built in the 16th century it has a mix of renaissance and gothic architecture. The view of the Mandovi river from the church is spectacular.

There are many more churches, structures and museums to excite any traveller in Old Goa which have not been mentioned here. The above list shows the most well known and frequently visited locations in Old Goa.

Full Day Goa Churches Spice Plantation and Old Bazaars Tour

If You Go:

♦ Goa Tourism
♦ UNESCO World Heritage sites (churches and monastaries): Churches and Convents of Goa
♦ Old Goa in Wikipedia

Old Goa & St Estevam island tour including ride on canal boat & lunch

About the author:
Niranjan is passionate about travel, be it long bike rides or treacherous trekking or leisure holidaying or backpacking through the countryside or an engrossing train journey, He dreams of setting foot on every single country on planet earth and meeting adorable strangers and learning new cultures. His travel blog link: rajniranjandas.blogspot.in

All photographs by Niranjan Das:
Cathedral of Santa Catarina
Basilica De Bom Jesus
St. Augustine Church
Church of St. Cajetan

Slow Boat To China

Freighter Travel Across the North Pacific

by Barry Truter

Within six hours of boarding the massive freighter that would carry me and four other passengers – along with 5,500 containers – from Vancouver to Hong Kong, I knew I’d made the right choice of travel plans. Standing on the dimly lit navigation deck of the French flag container ship CMA CGM Tosca, docked at Deltaport at midnight, I had a brief, blissful moment when the licensed pilot, just coming aboard, mistook me for the captain.

Alas, I had not achieved my boyhood dream of becoming master and commander of my very own ship. But the 21-day trip that followed provided not only spectacular sights and unusual experiences, but also satisfied more personal reasons for choosing such an adventure. It meant I could channel my first career as an 18-year-old indentured navigating cadet on a tramp freighter in the British merchant marine. It allowed me to sail across the North Pacific for the first time. And it dropped me off in Hong Kong, where I had lived as a boy. Too many touchpoints to ignore.

Friends had raised concerns about pirates, seagoing accidents and other dangers, but weighing up the risks just added to my excitement. Recently divorced, newly laid off from work, and in the process of re-inventing my life, this was a journey in more ways than one.

Travelling aboard a freighter proved to be an Open Sesame to the inner workings of ship life, perfect for someone rediscovering that fascinating world. I haunted the navigation bridge after Captain Jean-Michel Serra said passengers were welcome there, I climbed 15 decks down into the bowels of the ship for a tour of the engine room, and watched as huge cranes descended on the ship to unload it at four harbours.

The Trip

The journey began Dec. 10, 2012 up the coasts of British Columbia and Alaska. Then we headed through the Aleutians, west across the international dateline, south past the Kamchatka peninsula and Kuril Islands, and along the Japanese islands of Hokkaido and Honshu to Yokohama. From there we sailed the China Seas to the ports of Shanghai, Ningbo and Hong Kong, where I disembarked on New Year’s Eve.

From my privileged position as a passenger on the navigation bridge, I saw some unforgettable sights. Five days into the journey, travelling through Unimak Passage in the Aleutian Islands, we sailed between Unimak and Ugamak islands, each of them rocky cliffs covered with snow and ice and glacier. The weather was clear, the sea calm, the vista stunning. Periodically the sun peeped out. From the inside warmth and comfort of the bridge, it didn’t look cold until I walked out on the wing and caught a blast of icy wind, a reminder that once through this passage we would be in the Bering Sea. Whales spouted as a pod swam. It was magical.

Another memorable morning, as we sailed up the channel leading to Tokyo Bay, I got a magnificent view of the volcanic peak of Mount Fuji in all its snow-sloped splendour. Normally gossamer-garbed in cloud or mist, it was resplendently naked as we motored past, our huge vessel dwarfed by the mountain.

The spectacular sights outside the ship were matched inside by the warmth and hospitality of its 28 officers and crew, mostly French and Romanian, who adopted the passengers as part of the ship’s family. So much so that they held their Christmas celebration – including a tree, presents and a festive dinner – three days early because some passengers were disembarking before Dec. 25.

Besides myself, the passengers included Nicholas, a retired Brit who divides his time between England and Thailand to make his pension stretch; Hiroki, a 27-year-old taking the slow boat home to Japan after studying English in Canada; and Tony and Liz, a recently retired Australian couple homeward bound after making their way around the world. Liz, witty and vivacious, had no trouble being the only woman on board. She participated in all the activities and said she had a great time – a comment I’ve heard from other women who have travelled aboard freighters, either singly or with a companion.

Our little band of passengers got along so well that we put together a Christmas concert with songs from our varied backgrounds for captain and crew. And with no cruise director to coddle us, we made our own entertainment – ping pong tournaments, card games, movie nights. We had our own passenger lounge, with couches, card table, DVD player, and a hodgepodge of pirated DVDs – the closest we got to anything piratical on this trip. On Sundays and special occasions we were invited for a drink in the officers’ lounge, with the captain and the chief mate hosting the bar.

The Christmas feast was sumptuous, but throughout the trip, the food exceeded my expectations. Simon Pascal, the chief cook, was a French chef who served five-course gourmet meals for lunch and dinner complete with wine and cheese board. There was even a small gym with weights to help us work it off.

As for accommodations, for 90 Euros a day – about $120 Cdn in today’s dollars – I had a double cabin to myself high up in the midships tower, just two decks below the bridge. There were two beds, a large desk, a three-seater couch, two armchairs, a coffee table, and an attached bathroom. Three big windows provided dramatic sea views forward and starboard.

The Ship

But for me, the best part of the trip was the chance to indulge my fascination with the workings of the ship, the biggest ocean-going vessel I’ve ever sailed on. The Tosca was 334 metres long (the length of three football fields), 42 metres wide, and 94,410 gross tons in weight.

Early in the trip, chief engineer Nicolas Le Scornet led a 90-minute tour of his department, an amazingly clean basement world of surreal lighting and sound. The engine control room, the brain of this nether world, was a universe of control panels with lights and levers, dials and displays, switches and gauges. We went up and down ladders, across gratings, through doorways. Always there was noise, sometimes there was heat. We wore ear plugs, making it doubly difficult to hear over the racket of the pounding engines. At one point, we walked along a narrow outer corridor to see an emergency control panel that can operate the steering gear manually. We were below sea level and the cold clamminess of the steel hull signaled the freezing waters of the North Pacific on the other side.

Watching the ship unload, especially at Yokohama, was another high point. After picking up the channel pilot, we moved in slow procession with other ships along a channel marked with buoys. Outbound vessels passed us in line to port, and we overtook a cluster of small motorized fishing vessels, each with a coloured lateen sail keeping its head to the wind.

Docking a ship the size of the Tosca is an extremely delicate dance choreographed between the pilot, the two tugs, our forward and aft docking parties, and the dockside gang. The tugs nudged us gently toward the pier. A heaving line thrown to the dock was attached to a four-inch-thick nylon mooring line, one of four that would eventually secure us forward. The same process was conducted aft. The gangway went down, was quickly secured and before you can say banzai, the dockside cranes were cranking up, flatbed trucks were lining up, and containers were swinging through the air on their way from ship to land.

We carried 5,500 containers, although our capacity was 8,500 TEUs (twenty-foot equivalent units), stacked nine deep in the hold with a further eight tiers on deck. It’s a logistical nightmare carefully managed by the head office planners in Marseilles, the chief mate on board, and the port agent and dockside crew, with the help of automated systems that ensure a balanced load fore and aft. It’s important to get this right. Can you imagine the chaos of having to unload 16 stacked containers to get at the misplaced 17th one in the bottom of the hold!

At my last stop, Hong Kong – where I lived from 1952-55 – my heart beat a little faster as the tugs warped us into our Modern Terminals container dock. It was a clear day and the skyscrapers of Victoria harbour were in plain view to starboard.

As I prepared to leave the ship, deck officer Romica Apostol paid me a big compliment. He said, “After three weeks it’s like you are part of the crew.” I thanked him – and started plotting my next freighter trip.

If You Go:

There are a few freighters that accommodate a handful of passengers, and a small number of travel companies that can make the necessary arrangements. Google “freighter travel” to find out. The main requirements are a medical certificate from your doctor, travel insurance that includes emergency air evacuation, and visas for ports of call. Cost for my trip was €90 per day not including insurance and visas. Length of the voyage segment depends on your inclination and the vessel’s availability.

All photographs by Barry Truter except #1 by Elizabeth Wood and #6 by a passerby:
The author models an “abandon ship” survival suit
The stark beauty of the Aleutian Islands
Sailing to Yokohama past the snow-capped splendour of Mount Fuji
Crew members dressed up for the Christmas party
Tugs gently nudge the ship towards the Yokohama dock
The author at the Kowloon-side Star Ferry terminal with Hong Kong island in the background

Discovering Samatata, Bangladesh

by Reema Islam

I said “Itakhola Mura.” With a puzzled look he said “There is no such place here.” I went into panic mode and spluttered something incoherent until his face gradually lit up and he said “Oh Ittkhola mura!” He revved up his CNG run tuk-tuk and heaved it up a hillock while we sat shaking our heads at the many phonetic wonders of our trip.

Armed with bursting enthusiasm, guide books and various brochures from the museum’s dusty shelves, I with two of my trusted girlfriends had set out on an adventurous weekend to Comilla, East of Bangladesh, to check out the ancient sites popularly known as moinamoti. Comilla was known as Samatata from around 6th-13th century AD. Parts of Bangladesh fell under the region called Vanga at a close proximity to Maghada, which was quite a powerful state since the time of Asoka (304-232 BC). The Mahajanapadas or Great Learning Centers were a group of institutions that are said to have had an interactive relationship of knowledge sharing. The most famous one of these centres is said to have been Nalanda Institute in the now Bihar region of India. A corresponding university was said to be in Pundranagar, now lying in Naogaon district of Bangladesh. This centre is now designated a World Heritage Site and is called Paharpur. However a learning centre of probably a lesser kind was also discovered further South of the country.

Our first stop in Comilla was the museum where the remains of a fossilized tree greeted us at the entrance. Pottery shards, huge stone mortars and pestles or “Shil & Batta” (where the mortar had caved in considerably with such extensive use) Buddha in a Vajrasattva pose (sitting in a typical lotus pose, holding a thunderbolt in his right hand which is diamond shaped, supposed to cut through anything and not be cut itself, symbolizing purity and in his left hand is held a bell to symbolize wisdom and compassion. Together these two are essential in reaching enlightenment). The museum is large and houses many relics set in simple glass shelves, from the times of the Guptas, the Palas, the Chandra Senas and also the local ruling dynasties such as the Khagdas and the Devas. Comilla was known as Samatata from around 4th-13th century AD. The name Samatata was first mentioned on the Ashoka pillar in Allahabad where the Gupta ruler Samudragupta (ruled 335-376 CE) noted this as one of the principalities of that period. With monasteries built in a distinctive style of that era, Samatata has much to reveal as it flourished through kingdoms ruled by local rulers for about 500 years from 6-11 centuries AD. Housing some of the greatest vestiges of Buddhism in the form of the various monasteries around Comilla, Samatata attracted many a pilgrim seeking enlightenment.

Thus when Wanderlust and an inquisitive mind made the monk Hiuen Tsang smuggle himself out of China in the 7th century AD to make the perilous journey to India, his main aim was to read up on Buddhism. His journeys through the terrains that preached the gospels of Buddha also bought him to a deltaic region, with green fields and meandering rivers. Tsang visited the famous Nalanda Institute now in Bihar and its corresponding university, Somapura Vihara, the now World Heritage Site Paharpur in Naogaon, Bangladesh. These were both part of the great Mahaviharas, or Great Learning Centers. However a learning centre of probably a lesser kind was also discovered south-east of the country. Tsang was surprised to note bustling universities and hostels for up to 2000 monks and his documents have helped us understand Samatata a little better. An institution noted by him as Kanakastupa Vihara could well be the now excavated Salban Vihara.

Salban Bihar or Salavana Vihara as the signboard stated (Vihara means monastery and Salbon for the sal forest that once was), confused my two friends who had yet to catch onto the phonetics of the Sanskritic versus Bengali names. The disintegrating parameters of this once ancient monastery are now surrounded by an artificial garden sprawling around it. The main part is said to be the area that housed the main monastery for the students, with little cubicles that possibly accounted for the little cells where the monks resided. 115 cells and remnants of what could be a kitchen, abbot’s office and courtyard have been identified by the experts. This site is not only the most excavated one, but shows the perfect cruciform design-a crucifix shaped structure, (a popular style as seen at Angkor Wat or other Javan, Burmese sites of those days). However to inquisitive novices like us all we could make out were possible windows or door jambs or a seat.

Itakhola Mura, another red brick built structure depicts either a monastery of sorts with a residence area, courtyard and maybe an office or two. With a quaint passage that has little alcoves in the wall meant for oil lamps, Itakhola also houses the largest in-situ stucco (plaster) statue of Buddha in a lotus position, found in the country. This whitish torso-less statue placed in a walled up chamber is left to dazzle its visitors. Similar alcoves in the walls surrounding it make one wonder how the people of Samatata must have lit them with lamps, considering the only way in was from one storey above. A ladder, ropes, or agile monks, Itakhola Mura left us animated and rearing to visit the next site.

Rupban Mura on the other end of the hillock has several structures strewn about. The most distinct ones here are the two votive stupas. Stupas, especially votive stupas were a tradition that were popularized by Asoka when he had the remains of the Buddha brought in and distributed them in several hundreds of urns and placed these in the various temples that he had built. Thus the dome shaped stupa structure got absorbed into Buddhist architecture and morphed into the Pagodas of Japan and the striking tall, chimney type version of the Thai, Cambodian or the Java versions.

We had come to Comilla hoping to learn something about ancient eastern Bengal, but came away thirsting for more, as Samatata gave us a sneak peak at its heritage. With over 50 sites being discovered in and around Comilla, precious little is known about its people. From the Khadgas to the Devas many a ruler lived but left us little to draw a picture out of. Since we know that Samatata housed many institutions, it may be assumed that the locals supplied the monks with food and other necessities, creating a flourishing job market. But their legacy remains hidden between the disintegrating bricks of the Moinamoti ruins, a name popularized in some stray ballads and in museum brochures.

4-Day Bangladesh World Heritage Tour: North Bengal

If You Go:

Comilla is about a 2 to 2.5 hrs drive from Dhaka on a holiday. Snacking on the way is highly recommended since Comilla is home to the famous Rosh Malai & Pera, sweets made out of cow’s milk curd. Local buses leave every few hours from the main bus terminals but it is recommended to hire a private car so one can stop along the way and also the many sites of Moinamoti. You can also book a berth on the local train going to Chittagong and stop off at Comilla station.

Dhaka Cultural Tour Including Traditional Theatre Performance

Photographers are as credited below:
Buddha in Vajrasattva (Tarek Murshed)
Buddha in sandstone (Tarek Murshed)
Salban Vihara (Reema Islam)
Pathway of alcoves (Sadia Faruque)
Rupban Mura (Reema Islam)
A kind of altar (Reema Islam)

About the author:
Reema is an environmentalist with an active wanderlust and luckily gets to travel through work as well. She is currently on a mission to discover ancient Bengal as she lives in Dhaka, Bangladesh and writes for national and international magazines on archaeological news, updates and general information about the sites around her country.