My Happy Birthday

I wore out before the last hours of my birthday were over. I began my birthday when I walked on the 7th floor, up and down the corridors from Rooms 7002 to 7208 – up and down, until tonight when Wyona asked if we had seen last month’s room attendants, I had to say, yes, I passed them many times in the hall this morning. They work on the other side of the ship where I do have of my walk.

Wyona has been sick, so we had lunch together in the Ocean View, moving down the row of vegetables and pointing to everything we wanted on our salads. Yum to artichokes, shredded zucchini, toasted sesame seeds and pumpkin sees – all of the items that are just too troublesome to prepare for a quick meal at home! I saw the Russian Matryoshka Doll lecture and took notes, copious ones, having so many already. The bottom line is, if you like it buy it. There are no nesting dolls you can purchase that will be more valuable next year. And even the ones that a person can buy in the subway in the middle of St. Petersburg may have been made in China. I have no idea how I ended up in the Beyond the Podium Lecture called American Madams 1860-1910 but I was there with Greg and another dinner companion. I had the suspicion that I would be listening to a talk about madams in the Alaskan Panhandle – since Alaska is where we are headed. I was taking notes and able to refer to remember Mother Featherlegs and Diddlin’ Dora’s Saloon and know that I have to do some internet research when I go home to scan again the poem written by Lusk, Wyoming’s mayor who immortalized Mrs. Charlotte Shepherd.

My day went from good to better. Of all of the seminars my notes are the most copious when I sit in the Photography Question and Answers Sessions. Greg and I went to dinner and came home to tell Wyona that if she had joined us she could have had her choice of Beef Wellington, Lamp Chops, or Lobster Tail. I choose the latter to go with the oysters – two, still in the shells. No pearls were found. I had ordered a small cake, brought from the kitchen, my name tastefully written on it. Nothing like creating your own birthday party!  Our two waiters joined the table singing Happy Birthday. That was good. But the 3 tables of fun loving Germans who toast and sing at every opportunity joined in, raising the volume level more than I had anticipated – a blush from me for my 73 birthday to say the least. I still like to remain anonymous.

I watched the iBroadway Stage presentation – twice: 7:00 p.m. and 9:00 p.m. I was wondering what my favorite songs were tonight: On Broadway? Defying Gravity? Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You? We will Rock You? The good thing is that I could hear the show twice to help me make up my mind.

Can you imagine me stopping by a jewellery store on the way back to my room. Wyona and Greg had spent some time in there while I was at lectures today. She tried to convince me that a lovely pearl hanging on a black diamond necklace would be the perfect birthday gift and that I should buy it for myself. I opt for a new used car instead. Greg said it would be a hard choice, but if I choose the jewellery, I could just hold out my ring finger and say, “I am wearing an automobile on my hands”.

We had late night pizza in the Ocean View – a ‘60’s thing to do. 

I don’t know what a ‘70’s thing to do would have been. I am still having trouble getting good models for what it is like to grow old.

In any case, I had a lovely birthday.

Arta

Kobe, Japan

... no room to walk through the crowd ...

We were fingerprinted as we left the boat this morning. Everyone on the cruise had to get off, and no one could get back on until everyone had gone off of the boat. Multiple processes were going on. Some people were boarding the buses for organized tours. The people standing in line at the money changers were disappointed, for the kiosk ran out of money. We stayed on the line, though many left to see if they could find a bank in town who would make the exchange for them. How they thought this was going to happen at the beginning of Golden Week and on a Sunday was a mystery to us.

The man who came running back with more money was carrying it in a bag. He sat behind a counter, counting it out from a wooden table and three people beside the counter used their calculators to show the tourists what the rate of exchange would be for them. A low key operation. No armed guards, no grates between the sellers and the customers, no cash boxes, no passing money under bullet proof glass. Fascinating to me, all of these old people (the tourists), sharp and shrewd, using the apps on their Blackberries to make sure that they get the fairest exchange rates.

 ... Japanese Chinatown ...

Japanese Chinatown. Sounds like an oxymoron to me. Wyona and I were trying to figure out how long it was – six long crowded streets and everyone eating food on the streets. Or sitting on their haunches, or leaning against lamp posts. When they had something in their hands from one kiosk, they were lined up at the next one for their second course. A little girl was taking the rice from her bamboo-rapped pocket and feeding it to the pigeons. Her brother was putting it on his shoes and then laughing when the birds would take it from there. Too crowded, one of our evening diners said to us.

... by now, I am too full to eat ... too bad for me ...

I loved the feel of it – shoulder to shoulder, the smell of garlic and hoi sin sauce in the air, pork buns made to look like pigs and panda bears. No tourist kick-knacks, no fans, no silk scarves, no key-chains for sale – just six blocks of food, skewered, or in palm leaves or in cardboard boxes.

The #16 bus does a circle route around town – takes an hour. Pay when you get off. “How do I buy my ticket from the man,” I heard a tourist ask. He was corrected.

“You buy the ticket from a woman.”

... costume of tour bus ticket taker ... a woman ....

The ticket taker was dressed like a doll – a lovely dress, a stiff brimmed hat with a bow at the back. Whenever she would lean out of the window and give directions to people I could hear Wyona giggling behind me. No English in the tour dialogue. She gave a running explication of each block into a microphone for the whole hour. I wish I could have found her channel on an English station.

... presenting flowers to the Captain ...
....the occasion?  The Millennium's First Trip to Kobe ...

Just a side note – a group of Japanese University Student Drummers were the entertainment at the 5:30 show in the theatre, featuring the Japanese Dock Authority welcoming the Celebrity Millennium to its port for the first time – an exchange of pictures of the boat taken this morning, 2 plaques, some Saki, and bouquets of flowers, presented by a beautiful Geisha. Charming, really, to see the cultural traditions of two countries incorporated into one ceremony.

... drummer setting up her equipment ...

The drumming corps has won many prizes. Greg has seen this a number of times. Wyona grabbed my camera to video the performance. She knows where to find that button. I so under use the potential of my camera.  I am still working hard t get the horizon going across the picture instead of on a slant -- or getting people's feet and head in a picture, at the same time.

Wyona gets it right with the camera.  I keep practising.

Arta

Vaikom, Kerala

The most popular trip was sold out -- boat rides through the islands.

We were told that they were trying to arrange more excursions, but the problem was finding enough small boats.

Since that was out of the question, my second choice was to visit a village. Because I live near a small village in the summer and am always interested in what is going on there, I thought a small hamlet in India would be of equal interest to me.

Greg, Wyona, Moiya and David felt the same way so we signed  up for the same trip.

... on the way to the village ...

The ride to the village would be an hour, we were told.

Greg said afterwards how surprised he was, since an hour ride to a village seemed to us to mean that we would be seeing the countryside.

Instead there were stores and houses along the road, almost until we arrived at the village.

People were walking along the streets, families drove by on bicycles, and trucks whose cabs were psychedelic works of art were parked by the sides of the road.

... village drummers welcoming the tourists...

 We were met by village drummers.

And then we transferred to a tuk-tuk (auto rickshaw) for the rest of the journey to the village.

The transfer did not happen without resistance.

I have been warned so many times not to engage in conversation with anyone approaching me with an offer of a local tour, that I walked by the first 6 tuk-tuks, thinking it was my job to walk to the village.

... Moiya's head marking begins to wilt ...

I would have never made it in the heat.

Afterwards someone said, "The bus tour guide should have explained to us that we were to get into those vehicles."

I didn't agree because no one could get enough explanations to take care of all of the vagaries that happen along the way of such a trip.

... a moment together in the village ...

I do not know which was more surprising to me of the following three things.

First a small boy motioned to me that I should put down my head, and he put a flower lei around my neck.

Then a woman came by and made a red mark on my forehead.

Then a huge coconut with a straw extruding out of the top was thrust into my hands.  

I could just hear myself thinking ... boy, this is already a lot of fun and we haven't even entered the village, really. 

... a candid in an Indian village ...

The general theme was to show us the village: a woman making clay pots, another woman weaving baskets, and a third preparing herbs to cure headaches.

We saw a man doing silver smithing; we watched women preparing lunches for their families.

... am I in that picture? ...

I am having some trouble with the text of this post, since one part of the tour felt like we were going from station to station, as we would if we were going to see a group of students displaying their science projects.

On the other hand, there was this amazing feeling of being in the jungle, hearing the sounds of the birds, being overwhelmed by the humid air, observing the details of the jungle growth, walking on the dirt paths and turning corners around trees and walking over planks that crossed streams.

... everyone's turn for a funny face ... 

The little boy who had put the wreath around my neck followed me along, asking my name, practising his English on me.

I began taking pictures of the flora and fauna, but their little faces were far more interesting to me.

Wyona said to me, "Where are the girls?  We haven't seen any of the girls."

"I noticed that too," I said.

Wyona asked one of the women where the little girls were.

And soon the little girls appeared -- so sweet, hanging onto their mother's hands.

I was worrying that I would not be able to fully experience everything around me.

I was taking pictures of clay vases by the side of the road, of the washing hanging by the houses.

Why am I always taking pictures of that, I thought.  Venice.  Rome.  Egypt.  Alexandria.

Now India.

I want to see that invisible work of how people really live.

 

... Greg pauses in the jungle shadows ...

But somehow it is more than that. 

I want to see how they hang the bananas by the side of the store, where the little stream runs to, ask why there is only one bucket by the well

I am charmed by the 3-person toilet that has been set up for us. 

"You aren't going to use that," a woman said to me.

"Are you kidding.  I am trying everything whether I need to or not," I reply.

I am still working at making this whole experience complete.

The village is working hard to show us how they live.

I want to do my part to take enough in that I can work out the bits and pieces I don't understand when I get home.

... capturing the serenity of the village ...

When I saw this quiet stream running beside one of the paths, I thought it captured what the village must feel like when it is quieter ... not on display.

... a complimentary snack ...

So beautiful, the cottage on the other side, the well tended paths, the hedges carefully planted and trimmed.

Coke or coconut shell with straw

Complimentary snacks -- that is what the tour guide told us about the L-shaped table.

Coke or cocoanut milk.

Your culture or ours.

I have been running my set of photos from the village on my desktop since I got home.

I stop each day to take another look at the magic of a small Indian village in the province of Kerala.

Arta

Notoriety

Wyona and David in bare feet,
splashing in the water in
front of St. Mark's Cathedral

“Why might the photographers on the boat know you”, Bonnie asked.

I told her I would tell this painful story.

To begin with, I have a nice hand held Canon SX220 HS – purchased because my arms would get too tired carrying my larger Canon on day trips off of the boat.

A lovely purple colour and I can tell it apart from Moiya’s camera, for though hers is the same camera, it is a turquoise colour.

David and Wyona with their shoes back on.

One afternoon while the boat was docked, David came rushing down to have Moiya and me come up to the veranda view from the 14th floor and look with him at another boat that had docked, people streaming off of it.

It seemed there was no organized way to pick up luggage and both he and I were busy taking shots of travellers sitting on huge piles of luggage while their friends were still off gathering more cases of goods.

That night I downloaded my pictures, and then a little later picked up my camera and erased everything on the memory card.

I was careful.

I saw the first picture that said, do you want to erase all, and it was a picture I recognized from the afternoon shoot, I said yes.

Moiya and David at the canal

When the erasing took longer than normal I had my first clue as I thought, how odd.

That took longer to erase than usual.

Then I looked at the camera and thought, hey, I thought my camera was purple and not turquoise. Whoops.

When Moiya came back to the room, I asked her to lay down on her bed while I talked to her.

David and Arta looking over the
Grand Canal in Venice

She said she wasn’t tired. I told her she might be when I was finished my story.

I began by telling her that I have seen David all over the ship, taking pictures for days now; I would see him in an easy chair, looking over the ocean in some lounge, erasing the pictures he didn’t want, then I would see him down in the Centrum doing the same thing a few hours later. I told her that he doesn’t have those pictures anymore.

I have erased them all. Moiya was pretty cool about it, but they weren’t her pictures.

Then David came into the room.

I had to start my story again. When I began to retell my story, Moiya took the bedsheet and pulled it slowly up over her head so she only had to hear and didn’t have to see.

“You erased them all?”

“All.”

“Do you know any way to get them back?”

“Not that I know of.”

“I am going to the ship’s photography department and maybe they can help me.”

All of the above pics were those recovered
from David's camera
due to the magic of the Celebrity Photo Dept.

This may have taken Dave 5 trips, over the course of three days. Each time they felt they were getting a little closer, but hadn’t had success yet.

“Your sister-in-law.”

“Are you still staying in the same room with her.”

“Is walking the plank legal?”

He would come back and torture me with what they were saying.

The department eventually accessed a program that would bring Dave’s 1000 pics all back. The department was successful because I didn’t know to format the disk every time I erased it, something I have now learned.

That is how everyone in the photography department got to know me before I won their special prize of $100 of free pictures.

Greg and Wyona just bought a new camera yesterday – exactly like Dave’s and mine, but Greg’s is fuchsia.

When I saw the new camera I asked Greg if he had anything he wanted me to erase on it.

Arta

Singapore

... sky approaching Singapore ...

The sky never ceases to amaze me. I feel this way at home.

Even when it is -40, in Alberta, you can look up and think that the sky is breath-taking. I often feel that breathlessness when I look out of a balcony on the boat at sunset.

The sun setting, and the ripples on the water look different every night.

... mist at Port Kelang ...

One thing I like about a buffet table is that I can circle it a number of times before I have to choose what I will eat.

That circling, looking at something a number of times, that is what I miss when I am on a bus tour or looking out onto a river.

Even with my camera in hand, it is still often too late to take a picture by the time the thought crosses my mind.

This was particularly true the morning we came into Port Kelang.

"I will take pictures when the mist rises," I thought.


But the mist never rose.

Kuala Lumpur War Memorial

I also found that when the five of us travel together, there are few chances to get pictures with more than a couple of people.

We scatter like seeds in the wind, so while I could get a picture of Wyona and David, Greg and Moiya were somewhere else.

This airport in Singapore only rivals the one in Barcelona.

"Look, you can eat off of the floors," says Wyona there.

"Yes, my favorite airport," replies Greg.

 ... two weary travellers at the Singapore airport ...

I hadn't seen the airport in Singapore before, so I wanted to walk around. "Gives Barcelona a run for its money, doesn't it.  They agreed.

Fast Food Duck

I have always tried to find something new in every day -- and after so many years of practise, the task gets easier and easier. I saw it here -- my first look at a duck fast food joint.

Colourful enough.

On reflection, I should have gone in and ordered some food.  Fast food duck!  Would have been fun even if I hadn't have eaten it.

How much weight can my luggage carry?

I wanted one of these folding baskets from this street merchant.

I could imagine the fun of serving bread in it to my guests and how amazed they would be when they saw it collapse.

Moiya had already figured out how many hours it would take her to make one with her jig-saw, which made buying one doubly attractive.

Wyona was half way through negotiating the best price for three of them, when she, at least, figured out that we were already tossing out precious rocks and shells we had collected because we were overweight with out luggage and there is only so much that will fit in our pockets.

Waah!

Arta

Tourist Photography

 ... out of bus window on the way to Vaikom, India ...

The fact that I can take my handheld camera, sit on a bus and out of the window, photograph the world as it is going by means a lot to me.

I take pictures and have them run on my desktop; every ten second they change.

... bicycle parts and frame ...
 ... on the back of man walking down the street ...

I run my trip over and over again, often wondering, “Did I really see that?"

But here it is on my screen.”

I am pretty well aware that the pictures are only invested with meaning for me, but what a delicious way to bring back images that are fading so quickly for me.

The color is there, that moment when I was amazed to see this comes back, and I get to study the background which I probably didn’t see at all when I took the picture.

I learned how to do bad photography when I was with Wyona on the 16-day train trip up and down the coast of England, Wales and Scotland.

... woman preparing food on the other side of the stream ...

Now I have been doing it on bus excursions, and find myself studying the people who walk along the streets when the bus stops at red lights.

I try to capture a traffic jam, the sunset, small markets along the street, colourful bill boards, trying to figure out if their images are commercial or political.

When we were in Viakom, I noticed that when I took a picture, if there was a child in it, they wanted to come over and see themselves.

When I saw a woman weaving a mat I had to capture her toes, holding the reeds firmly to the ground. I saw a woman at the side of a stream, preparing food.

She was cutting the tops and the bottoms of vegetables, or little fish, I couldn’t tell which.

I wanted one of the small metal rings a man was making and I seemed to need two of the simple nesting baskets a woman sat cross-legged. I have no idea why I send Wyona off to do my bargaining.

She is fast.

... weaving a mat ...

A look from me to her, telling her I want that, and she will change directions and go do the negotiating.

Her method seems to be to find a guide close by and have him be the go-between – how much does she want for one basket?

How much does she want for two baskets?

 ... Wyona having purchased baskets ...
... the chain of flowers  on her neck smells like gardenias ...
... note the red decoration on her forehead ...

 

If she can’t find someone who can do that, she goes right to the merchant and somehow it is possible for her to make trades of money and goods without knowing much language.

Fun.

Arta

BritRail - On the Train With Greg

Greg has had to listen to nightly summations from our train rides. There has never been a night when we haven't said, "Oh, I wouldn't have missed this day for anything." Or perhaps we have said, "The best day ever!"  Or alternately, "What were we thinking of the day we decided we should cancel our trip and get our money back?"

Once on the train that map I described, the one made of 8 sheets of paper and that is two feet high and one foot wide, the map that shows the places that the 20 different railroads travel -- that is the map that was spread out on the table. Time to show Greg where the day was going to take us, which was along the perimeter of the bottom coast of England, all the way to Penzance.

Wyona thought the sixteen day trip should end as it began, with home-made chicken salad sandwiches, pickles, cheese, grapes, oranges, apples -- all packed in her picnic box and ready for the day's adventure. What could be sweeter? A good lunch, wonderful scenery rolling by the windows, guidebooks in hand to tell us what we were seeing.

All of that fun and then Wyona and Greg had to throw in a little hand holding as well.

This was the day that we had 888 images on the camera, Wyona taking the major part of them so her hands could not always have been holding his.

Oh, when Greg fell asleep we did take some pictures of him on his holiday, each time with a scene that was passing by the window, something he was missing -- ie, the sheep, the bridges, the sea coast, the castle ruins. We got them all, with his face tucked into a pillow, lying against the window.

We only made one mistake with the camera. 

The window of the train was so dirty. We knew we were not getting really good pictures.

We grabbed the wipes that we use to clean up the tables so that we can eat on them, and ran out to give the window panes a good cleaning before the train left the station.

When I was out there, scrubbing alone, the conductor walked by and paused. He paused too long, watching me. I thought about union rules and wondered if I were taking away someone else's job. 

I turned to him and said, "I will bet you have never seen this before."

"No, I haven't," he agreed, and walked on.

Wyona joined me and we scrubbed the window together (there was a lot of dirt on it).

She said, "You know, I think it might not have been a good idea to have left the camera in the train with Greg while we are out cleaning the train windows."

"We are going to be O.K.", I replied. "He hasn't shown one bit of interest in the camera today."

Here I am, pausing for a minute along the sea side boardwalk in Penzance.

I have been trying to get to the bottom of the question, "Are you having as much fun as it seems you are?"

You be the judge.

Love,

Arta