Everybody Wants to Rule the World (Rovinj - Pula)

We spent our first night on the Lady Eleganza. The ship itself is well equipped and the cabins are comfortable. Space is obviously at a premium, but there is a queen sized bed (with the weird European doona arrangement), a desk and chair and ensuite bathroom. We have three portholes or pill windows, one of which can open. However, instructions from Cruise Director Nora were not to open the window when at sea and also keep it closed when in port. I guess that means the window stays closed.

The MV Lady Eleganza

The cabins are on the lower two decks. The main deck has the dining room and bar, lounge and open deck at the stern. Above that there are two sun decks, the top one is completely open for the sun lovers and those unafraid of melanoma, and the other has a roof and protection from the sun and contains the spa or jacuzzi. Dinner is sometimes served here. Below the main deck at the stern is the access to the sea. The platform contains two ladders for easy access.

Breakfast is buffet style with cereals, pastries, bread, fresh fruit, bacon and tomatoes, you get the picture, with a separate menu on each table for the egg lovers. The only drawback, dear reader? Coffee. The coffee machine makes the most appalling coffee and the drip filter machine, well, I'm not ready to revisit the 70s unless it's for music.

The town square.

Our first organised shore excursion was a walk through the old town of Rovinj. The old town was initially an island and space for housing was so contested that the channel to the mainland was eventually filled in and Rovinj joined the mainland. We saw ample evidence of the old town wall and gates as we walked the narrow streets. The roadway is constructed from polished limestone blocks and the surface is invariably uneven and slippery when wet.

The first gate to the old town.

Our guide related a history of frequent conquests, from the Romans, through the Venetians, to the Ottomans and the Germans and each new stage has left its mark in both the physical appearance of the place and its customs and languages. The latest iteration is not as a result of a neighbouring conquest, but rather the invasion of AirBnB in which the old town dwellings have been given over to the demands of  tourism and the locals have vacated the antiquated apartments to take up modern residences further away. It might be romantic and quaint to climb rickety stairs to tiny spaces if you are only there for a couple of days but the appeal is not apparent for the modern permanent Rovinj population.   

Now an AirBnB. No lift.

We climbed the narrow winding road towards the church on top of the hill. The main street was lined with shops that were just beginning to set up for the day. There were many outlets selling chocolate and ice cream and a few cafés for the morning coffee and gossip session.

Narrow laneways.

We paused at one point to hear the story of a local man who has been been feeding stray cats for fifty years. As if on cue, he appeared and commenced dishing the most foul smelling concoction into bowls placed near a wall. Naturally, cats appeared from nowhere. The cats are required to keep the rats and mice in check. Allegedly. I've never seen a well fed cat chase anything except a patch of sunshine to rest in.

The cat man of Rovinj.

At the top of the hill was the Catholic church. Croatia is a very Catholic country. The effort required to reach the church would keep me happily in bed on Sunday mornings. The church of St Euphemia has a wooden statue that is covered in copper, adorning the bell tower. Unlike most statues, it is able to rotate in the wind and also acts as a weather predictor. When she faces the sea, the weather will be good, if she turns to the town, the wind is bringing rain and bad weather. Happily she was facing the water today.

St Euphemia is on top.

We went inside the church to see the tomb of the patron saint whose relics will be displayed later this month as part of her feast day celebrations. It was then time to wend our way back down to the main square to reboard the ship, ready for an 11 am departure. Lunch was served soon after we bid the picturesque Rovinj farewell, followed by our daily port talk to fill us in on the afternoon plans for our next stop, Pula.

The ceiling above the tomb.

Love locks and a cannon. Interesting juxtaposition.

We had a leisurely three hours of sailing before we docked in Pula. As we came into the port, the dominant feature was the shipbuilding yard and the rusting hull of a partially completed stock transport ship. Our guide for the afternoon was Nada and it turns out her husband has recently been laid off from the shipyard where previously over 1000 people had been employed. The current workforce is now set at 99, none of whom have the necessary knowledge or skills to actually build a ship - hence the rusting eyesore that now welcomes visitors to the port.

The Roman built arena dominates the foreshore of the town and was clearly visible from the ship and this was our first major stop on the tour. As we made our way there Nada provided a brief history of Pula. Much like Rovinj, there is a history of occupation and shifting borders. In fact, her grandfather was born in Austria, her father in Italy, she was born in Yugoslavia and her children in Croatia - all without ever leaving Pula.

The amphitheatre from the dock area.

The architecture reflected this and there were many examples of Austrian architecture sitting beside Italian and Roman contrasting with the dour building blocks of the socialist period.

Austrian architecture.

The arena, or colosseum as we might (incorrectly) call it, is in very good condition given it's 2000 year history. It is not as large or as grand as the one in Rome but it is one of the best preserved in the world. We walked the sand floor of the arena to tales of gladiators, male and female, and explanations of how the canvas roof worked. In its heyday it seated 23,000 screaming spectators. Today it is used for more peaceful pursuits, opera and music concerts.

The opera stage is to the left.

Underneath the stadium is chamber containing relics, amphora that were discovered in shipwrecks and also unearthed on land. There was also a wine press to produce wine for sale to the spectators. The other major exhibit was a Roman map that showed the distance between destinations, measured by travel time in horse and cart.

The wine press.

Back out into the sunshine, we walked the old town and stopped to observe old town gates and other reminders of the Roman days. Like Rovinj the roads were limestone blocks and some of the side streets were steep and slippery with polished limestone. I could imagine local kids sliding down the streets on wet days. 

Fun on a wet day.

In the middle of the old town shopping precinct sat a café with one table occupied by a seated statue of a man, seemingly enjoying a coffee. It turns out the celebrated author, James Joyce, lived in the building atop the café while he made ends meet teaching English. Apparently, he was not a fan of Pula, which is okay because we are not fans of his literary pursuits either.

The gate near Joyce's lodgings. They should have locked him out.

As far as the commerce of the town goes, there were the usual souvenir and ice cream shops as well as handcraft places and café. The Euro has only been the official currency of Croatia for three years and while its introduction was billed as a good thing for the economy, its people are not so convinced since inflation has skyrocketed by over 50% and wages have not followed suit.

We finished the tour at the City Hall, an Italian construction sitting beside the Temple of Jupiter. And that really sums up Pula, it is a town that represents it historical eras through the architecture.

The Temple of Jupiter.

City Hall.

We took our time walking back to the ship having exhausted pretty much what was on offer except sitting down for a coffee or glass of wine and we could do the latter back on board.

Dinner was served on the upstairs open air deck, a Croatian specialty, squid ink risotto with prawns. Entrée was tomato broth with celeriac and dessert, chocolate cake. You never go hungry on an APT cruise.

The shipbuilding yard is not so ugly at night.

The arena under lights.

Sunset from Pula.

The arena at dusk.

I honour of all the civilisations that dominated Croatia at varying times throughout history today's title, Everybody Wants to Rule the World is by Tears for Fears from 1985.

Until tomorrow.

Like a hurricane (Siem Reap-Singapore-Sydney)

Uncharacteristically Jayne woke before the alarm and, as a consequence, woke me. Why, dear reader? Because she could. We deposited the suitcases outside the door prior to 6am, as requested and walked to breakfast one last time. There were more people in the dining room than I expected at this early time. If they were heading to Angkor Wat for the sunrise, they had missed that opportunity.

As we made our way back to our room to collect our hand luggage, it was obvious that our larger bags had not been collected. They were waiting patiently by our door. We would have to do the unthinkable and manage our own bags. That, is certainly a first world problem.

Unlike the bustling foyer of Hà Nôi, the lobby area at the Siem Reap Sofitel exudes a perpetual calm. This morning was no different. We checked out and before we could even sit down, our guide was next to us ready to shepherd us to the car. A guide? Unnecessary? Absolutely, but he was heading to the airport to pick up the next group of guests, this time for little brother company, Travel Marvel.

The drive was about 45 minutes and we chatted about the trip, Cambodia and the new airport provided, as a gift, by China. It is beneficial because it removes air and ground traffic from the Angkor temple precinct which will assist in the preservation of this amazing, historic site.

The airport was almost deserted when we arrived. It has been in use for just over a month, having just been officially opened by the prime minister, and is still shiny and new, from the marble floors to the giant golden statue of Buddha that greets you on the happy side of immigration and security. 

The face of Buddha.

This facility along with the new road system infrastructure, is a source of great pride and the embodiment of the promise of a brighter future for the next generation of Cambodians, after such a dark recent past. Our guide told us that the vast area surrounding the airport, currently undeveloped 'jungle' as he termed it, is earmarked to become an urban area in the coming years, providing housing, jobs and community facilities.

Plenty of space at the new airport.

Inside the complex, the airline lounges are not yet open, although there is a generic user-pays option for $35USD per person. An option we did not take. We sat down near our gate and watched the crowd slowly build. In the next two hours we only saw two planes, both small discount versions of larger airlines. A very different feel to other international airports.

A busy day ahead.

Our plane was late arriving and the ground crew moved to a pace and rhythm all their own. There is no need to rush. After all, we have a significant layover in Singapore. The champagne welcome on the plane made the wait worthwhile. Qantas could learn a thing or two about short-haul Business Class. The trip from Sydney to Perth is twice as long as this trip and the seats and service are half as good.

Piper Heidsieck in hand, ours, the head steward then came around to take our lunch order. And refill our champagne.  All went well. We watched movies we either won't remember or won't admit watching. By 3:15pm we were seated in the Silver Kris Lounge in Singapore, counting down the hours until the flight home. The layover was longer than I thought it would be, at least 5 hours until we bored. Sorry, board. I was getting ahead of myself.

The last leg of the trip will also be travelled in style. The top deck of the A380, my favourite aircraft. I'm ready for my champagne, my pre-ordered lobster thermidor and a lot of sleep. In the meantime, let's talk toilets. Generally when I've been on a stopover in Singapore, it's been for work and I was in the Qantas Lounge where everything is westernised to cater for the clientele. The Singapore Lounge is, well, different. When I opened the door to the cubicle, the toilet seat rose to greet me. Then I was surprised by a heated seat. Not needed in this climate, I would suggest. Of course it came equipped with a Japanese style bidet and even a 'bum gun' that is popular throughout Vietnam. Naturally the  toilet also flushes itself. After a slight misunderstanding with one of the staff (not the Alan Jones sort), I was somewhat dismayed to find that I had to wash and dry my own hands.

Jayne remarked on more than one occasion how much better the Singapore lounge was when compared to the Qantas lounge. The choice of food and drink was both quality and extensive. And then there's the toilets. Jayne came back laughing. It really is quite the experience. A pity I couldn't take a photo.

The plane was on time pushing back but slightly delayed at take off as we sat in a queue. Regardless we arrived in Sydney on time. Dinner on the last leg, courtesy of 'book the cook' was Lobster Thermidor accompanied by several glasses of Piper Heidsieck bubbles. Very civilised. I watched a movie, sorted out my bed and went to sleep to be woken 30 minutes out from Sydney. Business class is the only way to travel on a long haul flight.

Lobster thermidor.

That, as they say, is a wrap. Until February next year. The northern lights, Scandinavia and Europe. 

Oh, the title? Well, dear reader, we commenced this trip with a song because it is a favourite of mine, so it is only fitting that we conclude in the same fashion. Like a hurricane by Neil Young. The man is a musical genius. He's also produced some pretty average stuff. Don't believe me? Try playing his catalogue from the beginning through till today. I did. Once. Epic fail. No one is that strong. So yeah, don't do that. No one deserves that much punishment, except maybe Morrison, Abbott, Howard, Dutton. Not necessarily in that order. Anyway, have a listen. One of the best guitar solos ever.

Until next time, stay safe.

Elevation (Ta Promh Temple, Cambodia)

Welcome back dear reader to part 2 of our big temple day. Today's title is a U2 song. Yes U2, the most overrated band in the world, but they did the soundtrack, Elevation, to Tomb Raider and that's where we headed, after resting up following our dawn visit to Angkor Wat.

Lets get it out of the way. Tomb raider.

Aside from Angelina Jolie's character, Lara Croft, running around the Ta Promh temple site, it has two major claims to fame. First, many sections have been restored, and second, the giant ficus trees that are, in parts, holding the walls together and in other areas, pulling them down. That really is a ying/yang situation.

Another face watching us enter.

This is the third temple we have visited and the first without a substantial moat, although there is a pond. The entrance is fairly typical, run the gauntlet through the souvenir stands with their hawkers and then enter the temple grounds through a gate in the sizeable stone wall.

The pond or lake. Whatever.

Unlike Angkor Wat, this temple does not have multiple levels, towers or spires reaching for the sky. It does have a more modest tower at the centre of the structure which has the centre point of significance. This area is said to have contained many pearls and gemstones, now gone. Lara Croft is almost certainly not to blame for this misappropriation; perhaps some were "acquired" by the British Museum? I was going to suggest that as the discussion ensued at the site, but being surrounded by colonisers, I kept mum.

The obligatory arty shot.

Some areas are still rubble although the restoration process must be lauded. It is like putting together a massive 3D jigsaw puzzle of moss-covered stone blocks. "Where would you start"? I enquired of Jayne. "Easy", was the reply. "Look for the corners and the edges and start there". Droll, very droll.

Before and after. Have a close look. Amazing.

The colossal trees that grow around the grounds, over the walls and buildings were identified by our guide as a variety of ficus. However, there is disagreement over the accurate naming of the tree. Regardless, they dominate the temple. The trees have an interesting relationship with the structure of the temple. Some sections, inseparable from the walls, are probably stopping it from further decay. In other areas, they have compromised the structure and once embedded, have fallen during storms, damaging the walls in the process.

Help or hindrance?

Excavations in one area uncovered over 400 statues of Buddha. Each one meticulously decapitated. A particularly Cromwellian manoeuvre. Who inspired whom? We'll never know.

Not thinking, jus sitting.

One of the reliefs that adorns a gateway on the major wall had what appeared to be, a carving of a stegosaurus. Pseudoscience and conspiracy theories abound. However, what appears to be the sails on the back of the stegosaurus, is actually the depiction of mountains and is common in this period. The beast itself is a rhinoceros. A great discussion point and one for the tin-foil hat wearing brigade. Or those that watch SkyNews After Dark. What's that dear reader? That Venn diagram would be be a circle. Yes, you are absolutely correct.

Here it is. Controversial.

The excitement of using U2 in a blog momentarily distracted me... En route to the temple, we had stopped briefly at ODA, a school for disadvantaged local children, either orphans or from single parent families. It is a boarding school. The children sleep two to a double bed, cosy in this climate. The girls' dormitory is downstairs and the boys' up a very steep set of stairs.

The main concept is to teach the children English, but the owner/founder is an artist, so art plays an important role in the day-to-day operation. Particularly as the children's artwork is used as a fundraising opportunity and is sold to visiting tourists. In fact, ODA stands for Opportunities for Development through Art and, what originally began as a haven for 34 children, has now mushroomed elsewhere to foster over 1000 kids. This facility, still capped at 34 with a one-out one-in policy, is partially self-funded but is also maintained by donations from the public and businesses such as APT, who match passenger contributions, dollar for dollar.

The classroom.

After a performance of a Cambodian traditional dance by some of the students, the principal spoke about the school's history and work and then we were taken on a tour of the place by students. This exercise was partly a vehicle for the students to practise their English. We were with two girls, one of whom had been at the school for 4 years and could converse pretty well. The other student was younger and had only been at the school for one year. She had far less English, but together they showed us where they learn, sleep and cook, finishing off in the studio where they showcased their artwork.

Our visit to ODA complete, the remaining 11 brave souls from the 'green family' returned to the bus and made their way to the 'tomb raider' temple. There were actually 23 people in our group, but as the trip continued, the numbers participating in the activities varied and most recently, dropped off completely. 

I have a love-hate relationship with tours such as these. FOMO, the fear of missing out, generally forces me to participate in every activity which can lead to being over-tired. Further, it can be emotionally exhausting spending time with people you don't know and really don't care about. Especially if they are not very personable or likeable. As a result, everyone needs some downtime as the journey progresses. Happily, we were most fortunate on this tour to meet some absolutely lovely people. I even forgave them for being Victorians. You know who you are 😉.

There's a function on tonight.

As you know my dear reader, while I might comment on random people we come across in our travels, it is even unusual for me to nominate a nationality. I prefer to leave that to your own prejudice. Consequently, I rarely pass commentary on those with whom I'm travelling. Not this time. We were forced to share our time with some extremely rude, entitled travellers from the 'mother country'. Interestingly, most of them did not look happy and did very little to interact outside of their clique. Sour faces, pushing to be first in line or ignoring the guide and wandering off on their own, or standing in the middle of the photo that everyone was waiting to snap. They also brought the germs and coughed, spluttered and sneezed their way around Asia, infecting others on the tour. Aside from that, they were a delight to be with.

The pool area at night.

APT, alert to the fact that many of us would have expended our 'social capital' by this point, did not schedule a group dinner. We opted for room service: spring rolls, a very tasty baguette accompanied by a bottle of red and an early night.

Until next time.

Leader of the pack (Siem Reap, Cambodia)

Here we are, dear reader. We have reached the end of our 17 day APT journey. There are but two remaining experiences for us to share before we part company.

This morning is a Freedom of Choice excursion. Unusually, I found the options rather limiting. A 2 hour ride in a horse cart? Not sure my back could withstand that. A shopping trip? We're in Siem Reap for another 3 days so that isn't necessary. A traditional Khmer massage? We had a spa treatment on the ship and could organise one here after everyone else has departed. A cooking class? Tempting but no. A cycle ride through the countryside? Possibly, but that's a me-thing, Jayne wasn't interested. That left ... wait for it ... drum roll ... the quad biking experience. Why not. We signed up. As did many others. It was the largest of the groups. I want to be the Leader of the pack. Goodness, all the way back to 1964 with the Shangri-Las.

And away we go.

With so many activities, there was staggered start to the day. We were leaving at 8:30am. Quite civilised compared to yesterday morning. The quad bike centre was about 20 minutes out of town and the time passed quickly because our guide was practising to be a stand-up comedian. He was quite amusing. At one point he remarked that we all spoke very good English. "First time in Cambodia"? he enquired and was met with many loud statements in the affirmative. "Me too," he quipped. "I born here and never leave. So my first time too." And so it went.

The rice paddy of a wealthy family.

We arrived at the centre and had to sign indemnity forms. It actually indemnified the operators for negligence. Not sure it would stand up at home, but here ... Then it was time to get kitted up. Plastics bags were placed around your shoes. Mud, it was explained. No need for me, I was wearing my hiking boots. Then masks and helmets were allocated and we waited our turn to complete two test laps with a supervisor sitting behind us. No thumbs up, no solo ride. Jayne opted to have an instructor drive her around the course.

Constructing a house complete with elephants.

Everyone sat astride their steed for the morning and we were away. Predictably we hadn't gone 100 metres when one of my favourite problem people was flagged down to suffer the humiliation of being moved to a bike driven by an instructor. It was difficult not to enjoy the moment. Karma, I believe.

Cambodia mixes up its land use.

The ride/drive I know not which verb to use, continued without incident. Through many deep puddles, quagmires of mud, beside rice paddies, swamps, fields, housing construction sites, past waving children to the next village. There we stopped in line outside a temple. Well, they are everywhere. I got off my bike and walked over to Jayne to be told to leave my helmet with my bike. In the 2 minutes that had elapsed, the people on the quads behind me had taken the opportunity to usurp my noble steed and move themselves up the line one place. Really? FFS. Childish. Once a coloniser, always a coloniser. I walked to the end of the line and placed my helmet on the last bike. Whatever.

A temple at the village.

The local village, had, you'll never guess, a market. We were offered a fresh coconut to drink which we both declined. Not a fan. had one too many coconuts in Malaysia when I was still working. Then we were escorted across the road and walked the length of the market. As usual it was a mixture of fresh food, clothes and other necessities. Then it was time for the return journey.

The temple wall.

Back on the bikes, I tried to drop back to stay as far behind the incompetent usurpers as possible. Their lack of expertise and seeming fear to cross every puddle or pothole made that an impossible task. It was still good fun and I would certainly do it again. 

The market.

Back at the bike centre, the others had their plastic bags removed from their feet, we rehydrated (water only), and wiped as much dust from our clothes and belongings as possible. When it was time to board the bus, some people actually ran. One must assume to gain a seat they believed was superior in position to others. I thought I was on a Year 8 excursion.

The afternoon was free until the Apsara dance performance and farewell dinner this evening. Tonight was a "free pour" night. That always makes me laugh because there is generally one person responsible for serving the alcohol and there were around 70 of us. It would be difficult to drink too much.

The musicians.

The dance performance and accompanting traditional music was held in the ballroom. The dances were similar to those we'd seen on the ship and at the ODA school. Except this time it was not students but professionals. Watching the performance proved challenging, even from the third row. Why, you ask, dear reader? Mobile phones being used as video cameras being held up to capture the whole dance. Jayne was constantly shifting her chair to try to gain a clear view. Is it really that difficult to be aware of others?

Traditional Aspara dancers.

The boys are fishing for wives. Not very PC.

The Monkey King.

After the entertainment, Long provided his last not brief briefing, once again relating departure details. Repetitive? Definitely. Unnecessary? Not at all. There was at least one amongst us who responded to so many questions with, "I don't know". What time is your flight? IDK. What airline are flying with? IDK. What activity did you choose? IDK. Do you have a Cambodian visa? IDK. Frustrating. Amusing at first. Then not so much. Also, never happy, with any experience, dinner, accommodation. Good one Irena (if you know you know, dear reader).

Being next to the door, I almost made it out first, only to pipped at the post by one of those who always has to be first. It did not, however, stop us scoring a table for six and being able to sit with the people we chose.

I'm sure dinner was lovely but I really don't remember it. We chatted away and enjoyed the company and were one of the last groups to vacate the restaurant. It was for many the last night in Siem Reap, with the first people leaving at 5:30am the next day and then a slow trickle of departures after that.

Until next time.