Orinoco Flow (Cartagena)

Last night when we went to bed in Cartagena, all was quiet. Not so when we awoke, but that was not discovered for a few hours, dear reader. We had located a breakfast place that was open before 10am, bonus, and it was only 5 minutes from the hotel. It wasn't quite at capacity when we arrived and we secured a table outside in the shade. The lady arrived and we destroyed the Spanish language in placing our order - she was amused and finished every part of the order for us with a laugh.

Breakfast was a double espresso and tomato toast. Not so complex, but there was no menu so necessarily there was bit of guesswork involved. Jayne spent some time watching other orders arrive and decided to be adventurous tomorrow and add queso to our exhaustive list of Spanish words.

A sculpture on the promenade.

The remaining seats filled quickly, mostly with locals heading to work. A place like this is always a great choice. The coffee was good and the tomato toast, a spin on Catalan tomato bread, was too. It was a lightly toasted bread roll,  spread with grated tomato and olive oil.

Post breakfast, we returned to the hotel to grab the camera to find that the arctic doona had been rolled down and replaced by the sheet that Jayne had requested as we left 45 minutes earlier. Nice. Our destination today was based on the daily temperature and amount of sunshine. Tomorrow's top is supposed to 30°, so we are doing the outside touristing today. (It concerns me that the dictionary allows the word touristing).

Now that's street art.

Camera in hand, we walked a huge 2 minutes to the Museo del Teatro Romano, or the Roman Theatre Museum for those who aren't fluent in Spanish. This is probably the major tourist attraction of Cartagena. As we approached the square, we noticed large numbers of people with lanyards milling around and a person with a flag. Bugger. Tour groups. There was an American cruise ship in port. The good news: it was luxury ship with a maximum of 720 passengers.

The face of Emperor Augustus.
His mother loved him.

Being decrepit old people, we scored reduced entry costs to the museum and theatre. If this keeps up, the trip will pay for itself. The early sections are displays of recovered artefacts from the site which is still under exploration. There were the usual exhibits of reliefs, columns, statues, plinths and collars as well as exposed sections of walls. These were all accompanied with explanations.

Juno, Minerva and I can't remember.

We spent some time in the museum and the theatre, dodging the cruise crowd so we could amble at our own pace, undisturbed by the loud prognostications of the group. In this we were only partially successful, as a second group followed minutes behind the first. Jayne declared this was her kind of museum. Why you ask, dear reader? Nothing particularly cultural or interesting; it had escalators to each floor, no stairs.

The remnants of a relief.

It was quite amazing to realise that the theatre site was only rediscovered in 1988. Down through the years a shanty town built up over the site and as Cartagena became run down, the existence of the theatre was lost to memory as the forgotten people claimed the site. When you see the scope of what has been recently uncovered, it makes the story even more fascinating.

Original Roman columns recycled for more recent use.

The Roman Theatre.

Cartagena is taking its history very seriously now and every excavation is being carefully considered with an eye to the past. There are numerous buildings, scattered throughout the city, that are mere shells as their foundations are explored.

From the theatre, we walked down the marble paved main pedestrian thoroughfare to the Plaza de España, a rather underwhelming end to a grand shopping and eating strip. From there, it was on to another archeological site, the Parque Arqueologico Cerro del Molinete. This is one of the many fortified hills of Cartagena, now not quite in pristine condition. It provides a great view of parts of the city and, like much of the rest of the area, has been repurposed depending on who had invaded last. The more obvious remnants belong to the Romans.

The tower looking across to the next fort.

From the hilltop, you could see the larger fortifications on either side of the harbour. Cartagena is still a significant naval site, and its trading history dates back to the Phoenicians. I actually remember reading about it in history in year 7 (1972 if you are interested).

The covered dig below the park.

Also visible was another major dig that had been covered but we decided to give that one a miss - how many Roman columns can one see in a day? Dominating the near skyline was a massive cupola, clearly for a Cathedral. That would be our next destination. No. Apparently god enjoys a Spanish siesta too and the Cathedral was closed between 1pm and 4pm. Not going back to find out what was inside.

The dome of the Cathedral.

After all that walking around, it was beer time in the Plaza de San Francisco, another underwhelming space that contained a few restaurants and bars. A group of about 30 young men shattered the silence as they arrived en masse and entered one of the restaurants. Glad we weren't eating there.

We then returned to the hotel to blog and pre-plan our next stop between here and Málaga. Soon it was dinner at a nearby restaurant. Paella, not tapas tonight. It was very good but I don't understand the Spanish fixation with langoustine. They are a lot of hard work for very little return. Give me prawns or bugs or lobster any day.

The altar of a random church. Needs more gold.

It was party night as we retired and the revellers kept us awake at varying points through the night. And that was through double glazed windows.

In the morning, we delayed our breakfast departure to phone Isobel for her 2nd birthday. When we ventured out around 10:30am, there was a flood of humanity streaming from the dock area. This time the American accents were replaced with British. Another cruise ship had docked and judging by the number of people, it was a much larger one than yesterday. It certainly wasn't there as we retired last night because we walked along the promenade.

It was back to the breakfast place we discovered yesterday, to snare the last available table and attempt our pathetic Spanish. The lady serving us laughed with us and admired Jayne's earrings. We did indeed score our coffee with tomato and cheese on our toast.

Breakfast done, we headed to the waterfront and the Museo Nacional de Arqueología Subacuática, the underwater archeological museum; an indoor venue to avoid the sunshine and heat of the day. Before we reached the promenade, we were able to see the P&O cruise liner that was docked. It would have overshadowed yesterday's ship. Now I know some people like ocean cruising, but I'm not one of them; they are a necessary evil to get to some places - from my perspective. Like our trip last year to see the Northern Lights. 

Despite what your mother may have told you, size does matter. This floating behemoth carries 5,200 passengers with a passenger to crew ratio nearing 3:1. The streets of Cartagena were swamped with sunburnt Brits. In an era where tourism is being constantly criticised, I feel the blame should be laid squarely at the feet of cruise companies building ever larger ships (this one has a rum distillery and a high ropes course FFS). Nothing exceeds like excess. Tourism itself is not the issue, its 'big' tourism that creates the problems. I tender Venice and Dubrovnik as evidence. We swam against the tide as we walked to the museum.

How to stow cargo and stay a float.

The museum is quite interesting as it provides an overview of what constitutes underwater archeology these days. Particularly in the light of UNESCO guidelines. The preference today is to find the wrecks before treasure hunters and often to secure the site to be sealed after investigation. It was a perspective I'd not considered because most of what is seen in the media, focuses on recovery and restoration of artefacts, not protection in situ.

A restored cannon.

Following the tour of the museum, we headed back to the hotel for mid afternoon beer. There is a very large family group staying at the hotel for a wedding. They happened to be enjoying lunch and occupying all three serving staff. A couple of beers appeared to be too much for the bar staff. Literally standing across the bar from them, I wasn't able to get eye contact to even acknowledge my presence.

Recovered ivory.

After five minutes of waiting patiently and a few more impatiently, we left for Bar Columbus where we'd enjoyed dinner last night. It was all of two minutes walk and we secured a table in the shade. This morning we were caught in the incoming tide of Brits from the cruise ship. This afternoon we sat and watched as the flotsam of sunburn, tattoos and cigarettes was washed back out. Happy days. The ship was in port for less than 12 hours.

Once it was safe to cross the street, we went back to the hotel foyer and blogged and researched Málaga and Alhambra. It would appear the latter, in Granada, is something we should have booked two months ago. After numerous attempts to find tickets, we decided to leave it until we could speak with hotel staff in Málaga tomorrow.

It is an early finish to this post, pre-dinner and all. As we sit and write and read, the space next to us has just been invaded by the wedding party. I guess it's better than Brits from the cruise ship.

And finally to the today's title, dear reader. A little obscure perhaps, until you listen to the lyrics. Orinoco Flow is by Enya with the timely lyric, sail away, sail away, sail away. The song was released the same year the Roman Theatre was rediscovered. Synchronicity.

Until next time which will probably include a transit day. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Sail Away (Ho Chi Minh City to the Mekong River, Vietnam)

If I was at home, dear reader, the only reason to be out of bed at 5:30am would be to go riding. While I’m travelling, that time is becoming the norm for getting ready for breakfast and the excursion that follows. Can’t say I’m embracing it.

These devices are to stop scooter riders taking a shortcut on the footpath.

Breakfast was another spectacular experience. Jayne indulged in French toast which she reported was delightfully light. Amongst the array of pastries this morning, there lurked a plate of pink donuts. I regularly joke about purchasing one from the Woollies Metro at home, so Jayne goaded me into having one. I could only manage half a donut. The nuclear-irradiated pink icing was too sickly-sweet and the donut itself was more of a bread consistency. I wonder to which national group this was catering?

That's a helipad on the side of that building.

After breakfast the choice of activities was a shopping expedition. Nope. A motor scooter ride. Ah, no, not for Jayne. A trip to the food market and a cooking class. Definitely not. Or a wander through the local area. That was more our style. Or so I thought.

Weddings everywhere. It must have been Sunday.

As it eventuated, the pace was torturously slow and the ground covered took in much of what we did yesterday afternoon. The bonus was it came with an explanation of what I was seeing. This was a walk past tour, the only building we entered, aside from a café was the Post Office. We saw the former CIA building where the locals queued on the rooftop in the hope of being airlifted by an American helicopter and other sites of significance from the days of the American war.

Notre Dame in Saigon. Attractive.

We dawdled towards the markets down ‘shoe’ street where our guide Minh confided that the designer shoes were all knock-offs. The markets remained out of reach and we stopped for coffee at the Amazon Café. Then it was time to snail our way back to the hotel.

The famous rooftop.

You think I’m exaggerating about the lack of pace, dear reader. Let me provide an illustration. My Apple watch records my activity. If I neglect to register a walk, it prompts me. In the 2 hours we were walking my watch prompted me not once. By the time we had reached the hotel and completed the 3km, my active time was 2 minutes.

A very cool post office.

Upon our return to the hotel, we had about an hour to vacate the room, check out and join the rest of the tour group in the ballroom. Cruise registration occurred here and we were briefed on the transportation to the Mekong River cruise ship. We were in the green group. This was mostly the people from Hà Nôi and some people that were commencing their trip in HCMC. There were three bus groups heading out of Saigon towards the marina where the newly commissioned APT Serenity awaited us.

The former American Embassy and those famous gates.

The bus trip was typical of other recent journeys, with commentary provided this time by our local guide, Thinh, who comes from the Mekong Delta. An hour and a half later, we arrived for a quick cabin check-in and met our butler, Benly. He showed us around our beautifully appointed suite which would be home for the duration of the Mekong cruise. Finally, a chance to stop living out of our suitcases!

Our first sunset on the Mekong.

In the week before we left Australia, APT contacted us and offered a cabin upgrade for 50% off the usual rate. The extra room would be welcome so we said yes. There were some other perks that came with the upgrade, that we could live without. The cost of the upgrade to the Bayon suite was definitely worth it.

A very deep spa bath and dual basins.

We quickly oriented ourselves and went to our first onboard lunch, a typical APT culinary experience with multiple options for each course, served by lovely staff such as Sally and Maria who magically learnt our names before the appetiser plates were cleared.

Looking from the picture window.

After a short period to luxuriate in our suite, the peace was interrupted at 4pm by the anticipated alert to grab our cumbersome life jackets and head to the top deck to attend the compulsory safety drill. 

Back down to our level, it was time to dress for the welcome cocktail party with the captain and various heads of service. Thankfully this was much more casual than we have experienced on other cruises. Once the obligatory toasts were out of the way, we were left with Long, our cruise director, who provided (as his name suggests) a briefing that wasn’t very brief, about the next day’s programme.

Then it was back to the Lemongrass Lounge for another multi-course meal. Following dinner, we were invited to enjoy the musical entertainment provided by local farmers, including as it happened, our green group leader, Trinh. They played traditional Vietnamese instruments and acted out varying scenes depicting local life.

Water hyacinth. An introduced scourge.

Now part of a broader group of fellow travellers, we discovered that there were three groups that had converged to sail on the Serenity on the Mekong from HCMC to Siam Reap in Cambodia. There is our original tour group that started off in Hà Nôi and then flew to HCMC via a short sojourn on Ha Long Bay. There is a group who commenced the trip in Hà Nôi and then eventually came south via Sapa and Hoy An. Then there is a third group that simply arrived in HCMC to go on the Mekong cruise. Some of our fellow travellers should have been here earlier in the year but had their original tours cancelled. This was due either to delays in the construction of the new flagship, Serenity or because the Vietnamese authorities refused to grant a licence to the ship, despite the head of APT coming to Vietnam to try to sort whatever the issue was.

He looks friendly.

The next morning was the usual early start. However, we were now on the water and travel to the shore was by sampan. We motored across the river toward the town. A number of us encountered issues with our cameras. The lenses had fogged up due to the temperature differential from air-conditioned comfort to the heat and humidity. Wiping the outside lens clean was ineffective because the second lens and even the mirror inside the camera were also fogged. The only solution was to wait for the camera to warm up to the ambient temperature.

Making rice paper.

Caramel sweets.

Puffed rice.

The first stop was a shop where we saw a demonstration of how to make by hand caramel sweets and popped rice breakfast food. They also had a python in a cage for reasons I do not understand, except perhaps to amuse tourists. Sticky rice wine was also distilled on a premises a few doors down. It is a cousin of Chinese white liquor and just as deadly as 37% alcohol – 48% if you were intending to use it for medicinal purposes.

Only 5% cobra venom. I prefer something stronger.

Next to the bottles of banana wine and guava wine were bottles that contained a cobra with a large scorpion in its mouth. This liquid is supposedly medicinal. It’s good for lower back pain and assorted aches. The magic ingredient is cobra venom. At 5% per volume of liquid I decided not to try it. Jayne rejected my offer of buying a bottle for her to assist with her problem ankle. It wouldn’t get through Australian customs anyway.

The still.

Back onto the sampan we crossed the river to visit the Catholic church and hear about the history of Catholicism in the area. The roof didn’t cave in as I entered the church, nor was I struck by lightning, so that was a good start. The altar was covered in a plastic Christmas tablecloth. Stylish in a kitsch sort of way. The statue of Jesus behind the altar was surrounded by a red neon tube. I haven’t seen anything like that in Vogue for Churches.

Tacky without being gaudy.

Back on board the Serenity it was time for lunch and then a nanna nap. The weather closed in on us rapidly and a thunderstorm arrived before the next excursion. It was clearing as departure time neared, but we, like many others, opted not to do the afternoon tour. While tours like this allow you to get to places that you might not visit, the lack of down time to process your experiences or to just rest is rare. When an opportunity presents itself, it should not be passed up.

Dinner was the usual APT offering of four courses and wine. Our server, Sally offered the usual wines and we discussed the fact that the red was being served too cold. No problem said he and disappeared to return with a bottle that was close to room temperature. Excellent service. He put the bottle aside for us for the evening.

Our second sunset.

Yes dear reader today's title is somewhat of a cop out, but I didn't want to revisit war songs. Sail Away by Enya, it's one of those songs you can loop and just chill.

Until next time.