Capetown to Singapore

[Aussie Gal]

Jack,

 

Another great post. I do hope you enjoy your time in Myanmar. As I have mentioned we hope to do this cruise one day but when I mentioned stopping in Myannar, my DH also wasn't happy about giving any money to the regime that they have at the moment.

 

I wonder who was the singer from Australia that you listened to. You didn't mention if it was a male or female. I would be interested in hearing whom it was.

 

You have certainly a lovely relationship with Casey. It would have been such a very special moment for you when he told you about his best trip ever!

 

Jennie

[LHT28]

Jack,

 

I wonder who was the singer from Australia that you listened to. You didn't mention if it was a male or female. I would be interested in hearing whom it was.

 

 

Jennie

I wonder if it was Donald Cant? ..he was on one of our cruises

[Aussie Gal]

LHT28,

 

Thanks for that. I think you may be correct as Donald Cant as appeared over 500 times in Phantom.

 

Jennie

[LHT28]

LHT28,

 

Thanks for that. I think you may be correct as Donald Cant as appeared over 500 times in Phantom.

 

Jennie

Jennie

I actually met him in the laundry room and had a nice chat with him

He told me during our conversation who he was

He is very well travelled & very pleasant person

 

Lyn

[hondorner]

LHT28,

 

Thanks for that. I think you may be correct as Donald Cant as appeared over 500 times in Phantom.

 

Jennie

I was on a cruise where he appeared, also, and he was fantastic. He's one of the many reasons why I have always rated Oceania entertainment higher than most, and higher than so-called production shows.

 

During one of his performances the microphone failed temporarily, so he just stepped up his projection a little and sounded even better without the mike.

[SunDapple]

Jack,

What a beautiful soul you are. You have moved my heart.

For those of us who have loved, cared for, and lost parents I can say we have traveled the same path and know what you are feeling.

 

In between the postings on this thread, I have gone back to read your Hong Kong to Athens thread. I've spent much of the last week reading your posts before going to bed, and wishing I were being rocked to sleep on one of Oceania's ships, but that will come very soon for me.

What a rich and wonderful experience you are providing Casey. I applaud your bold move to take him out of the classroom and into the world, although I'm sure his school district is beside themselves. :)

 

Best wishes to you and your family. May the gods of Chance and Change be kind to you.

 

Jacquie

[tanny18]

Jennie

I actually met him in the laundry room and had a nice chat with him

He told me during our conversation who he was

He is very well travelled & very pleasant person

 

Lyn

And he played Trivia with us...what a nice guy and a fabulous voice...I bought his CD something I never do. I have it in my car and when I listen I remember the wonderful cruise in OZ/NZ last year!!! Arlene;)

[JackfromWA]

A FEW REPLIES

 

Mura, avoiding the photographers is one of my main objectives. I’m glad they aren’t hassling us on Oceania!

 

Orchestrapal, yes I am lucky to have Casey. There is a lot of reciprocity in our relationship. This trip has been good for us. Overall, I’ve enjoyed sharing a cabin with him and the trip created memories for a lifetime.

 

Paulchili, I think using the name “Burma” instead of “Myanmar” had a point. When I learned that the General changed the name from Burma to Myanmar, and that the US, UK, Canada and Australia still officially recognize Burma, and Aung Sun Suu Kyi uses Burma, I had a hard time typing Myanmar. Either are correct, but I prefer Burma.

 

Wripro. It touched me more than I can say too. I’ll never forget that line. Just when I think Casey is being juvenile he shows such incredible depth…

 

Cathi, I hope to have the book about Casey finished this spring. I’ll keep you posted. :-)

 

Tanny 18 (Arlene), please do take this trip in 2011. I especially encourage you to go to Bagan. Since cruise critic censors the names of tour operators (I really dislike that and think it sucks), email me and I’ll share that with you or anyone else if you like. Also, please see my response below about Donald Cant.

 

AussieGal, LHT28 and Horndorner, yes it is Donald Cant. The hilarious thing is I met him in the laundry room! He had watched my lecture on video (they broadcast the enrichment lectures for a few days after each one) and wanted to talk. He is such a nice guy. I also see him every day at trivia. He is on the ship for 5 weeks. Fantastic voice and wonderful personality.

 

SunDapple (Jacquie). Thank you. I’m glad you’ll be rocked to sleep soon in Oceania’s bed. It’s certainly one of my favorite ways to sleep. The school was better about him missing 17-days than I imagined… and it isn’t because Casey is a great student. I think they really grasped this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance and they wanted him to have it. So far, the gods of chance and change have been good to me. I believe I’ll continue to get what I need and at least have some of what I want.

 

THREE DAYS IN BURMA

 

The first chapter in my guidebook to Burma (Myanmar) is titled “Should you go?” Most passengers on Nautica would give a resounding yes. Burma was by far the most exciting, interesting, and diverse port on this itinerary. In my opinion, the temples of Bagan rival Petra, Machu Picchu, Angkor Wat, the Taj Mahal, Luxor, the Great Pyramids and Sphinx as a once-in-a-lifetime destination. Many of my fellow passengers described Bagan, Mandalay and Burma as one the most interesting places they’d ever seen. Almost everyone said that Oceania should continue to call on Burma regularly. But I believe anyone traveling here has to answer the question, “Should I go?”

 

For those who may not know much about the political situation, here is a very brief synopsis as I understand it. (Please note that any errors that follow are mine—I am not an expert or a historian—I am writing with limited research resources on a cruise ship).

 

Shortly after World War II, Burma become an independent, democratic government. The leader credited with independence is Aung San, who was assassinated in the late 1940’s shortly before the new government was formed.

 

The short-lived Democratic rule ended in the early 1960’s when a military coup successfully overturned the government. Burma, once positioned to be the most economically successful country in Southeast Asia due to its abundant natural resources, has deteriorated into one of the poorest, most repressed countries on earth.

 

Since the General’s coup, there have been many protests against the regime. In the 1970’s student rebellions were ruthlessly and violently ended, over 300,000 Burmese Indians were permanently expelled, and hundreds of thousands of Muslims fled to avoid persecution. In 1988 major protests, mostly led by students, erupted around Burma. Most historians concur that they ended when the government murdered over 3,000 students and other protestors in a single night of mayhem and gunfire.

 

In an apparent effort to promote the illusion of democracy, the government changed the name of the country from Burma to Myanmar in 1989 and held “democratic elections” in 1990. The United States, Canada, UK and Australia still officially recognize Burma, not Myanmar, as the name of the country. Aung San’s daughter, Aung Sun Suu Kyi, led the opposition. Her party won 392 out of 489 parliament seats, but the military refused to step down and placed Aung Sun Suu Kyi under house arrest when she refused to leave Burma. She was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in absentia in 1991.

 

The totalitarian government has controlled the media, schools, business and all forms of bureaucracy for decades. Every major or international business operating in Burma is required by law to partner with them. Their primary trade partners are Iran, North Korean and China.

 

Recent history (experienced by millions who lived through it) has been officially censored and distorted to strengthen the militaries position and indoctrinate young people. For example, in a government printed English language tourist brochure, Burma’s political history is described as follows.

 

“Myanmar, formerly known as “Burma” has been in existence for centuries. Naturally, she has been going through ups and downs of time along the course of her existence. Under the current leadership of the national heroes, however the country was opulent and peaceful.”

 

Although Aung Sun Suu Kyi, known to the Burmese as “The Lady” was finally freed in November 2010, she is not allowed to gather any crowds or speak to the people. It is dangerous to speak her name publicly. Several years ago Aung Sun Suu Kyi requested tourists to boycott Burma. She said that visiting helps support the government. Certainly they benefit from the influx of foreign dollars that tourism brings. However, many of Aung Sun Suu Kyi’s present supporters, who previously asked tourists not to visit, have reversed their recommendation. They say that having Burmese people interact with foreign visitors helps the Burmese recognize that it is possible to live in free societies where freedom of assembly, freedom of expression and freedom from exploitation are illegal. Although our guide was a strong supporter of the government, I had many opportunities to talk to local people in markets, at temples, at bus stops and in airports. Many Burmese speak excellent English, and not only were they eager to practice it, they were interested in talking to an American.

 

My decision to go to Burma was heavily influenced by a photo I saw many years ago of the temples, or stupas, of Bagan. When I saw the picture I knew this was a place I wanted to visit someday. Ever since I learned the photo was of the temples in Bagan I wanted to go to Burma. The deciding factors in choosing this itinerary was the chance to finally go to Bagan. I didn’t like the ship’s overland tour for Bagan, it was too expensive and too short, so I used a travel agency I’ve had great success with that specializes in Vietnam, Thailand and Burma. We had many emails back and to use a private tour company copies of our passports and personal details were required months before our entry. There is a great deal of paperwork and bureaucracy associated with visiting and traveling within Burma. Much of the country is closed to foreigners and there are many internal military checkpoints. Travel is closely regulated, although it is discreet in the tourist areas of Yangon, Mandalay and Bagan.

 

When we arrived our guide was waiting at the heavily secured pier. My first sight of Burma was the MITT cargo port along the Yangon River. Our tour company had arranged a 20-passenger bus for the six of us. As we left the pier, small raindrops formed on the windshield and the humidity was blanketed by gray skies. The paved road was very bumpy and though it was only 30 miles to Yangon we couldn’t drive fast. As we passed locals walking along the highway they usually waved and smiled. It felt like tourists weren’t common here. Most of the teashops and restaurants we passed were open air with cheap plastic resin chair and table fixtures covered by nylon canopies to block the rain and sun. There was a surprising amount of litter along the road and the closer we got to Yangon the more people, shops, homes and cafes we saw. Soon there were people everywhere. I noticed many people in buses staring at us as we passed. Their buses were packed far beyond the capacity they were constructed for, and all of them looked rundown and in need of paint, cleaning and repair. I felt uncomfortable that my bus was so empty and theirs were packed so tightly that I would have panicked to ride with them

 

Tall Buddhist temples dotted the highway. The men and women almost all wore colorful longyi, a fabric sarong that is tied around the waist. Almost everyone wore sandals. In Burma, religious protocol requires that people have bare feet in the temples, so wearing slip on sandals makes going back and forth much easier. We arrived in Yangon about an hour before our short flight to Bagan, so our guide took us to a temple with a tall marble Buddha. As we walked through the pagoda I noticed that there were paintings showing the ruling General’s with monks and the giant marble Buddha. I asked our guide about the paintings.

 

“Oh yes, this shows the country leaders making this giant Buddha. See how they found the marble in the quarry and commissioned this beautiful statute?” I nodded, but it was hard to stomach a painting depicting the Generals as kind, wise, leaders when I know some of the truth. The Generals earn billions of dollars annually from Burma’s natural resources and their commercial monopolies. They spend lavishly and even created their own modern city to rule from. Most Burmese earn less than $50 per month. One of the General’s daughter’s received over fifty millions US dollars in wedding gifts. There are few things I find more offensive than a handful of people leaving high on the hog at the expense of millions of others. I’d guess less than twenty thousand family and friends of the Generals enjoy the “high life” while the other 50 million inhabitants of Burma cry as their loved ones can’t afford the hospital, their children go to bed hungry or their parents and grandparents can’t afford essential prescriptions that we in the West take for granted.

 

“Dad! Dad! Can I set a bird free?”

 

“What are you talking about Casey?”

 

“Look! I can pay a thousand chat and set two birds free!” There was a woman in the temple with a cage of birds. For one thousand chat (a little over $1) she sells two birds that you hold, make a wish, and release. “Can I daddy, please?” He still calls me daddy when is inner child takes over. He was so excited I couldn’t refuse. He loved holding the bird, making a wish and then throwing it into the air.

 

“What’d you wish for?” I asked.

 

“You know,” he smiled. I nodded my head toward my father, “Yep, that was one of them.”

 

“What was the other?”

 

“You know,” he made a shooting motion with his hands.

 

“The BB gun?” He nodded vigorously. Casey and I are still debating whether his is responsible enough to own a BB gun.

 

We stopped to see the lucky white elephants (they aren’t white, but their feet are) and boarded our plane for Bagan. The flight lasted a little over an hour. We told our tour operator we wanted to use Air Mandalay. It was the only airline in Burma that the US Embassy doesn’t declare unsafe. The flight was uneventful. Our guide traveled with us, and when we arrived she lead us to a beautiful 24-passenger bus. The seats were plush with ample legroom and there were crystal sconces in the wall. I enjoyed it, but still I had that uncomfortable feeling that I was traveling like a sultan, while locals were crammed beyond capacity in pickups, vans and dilapidated buses.

 

“What do you think Dad? Is enjoying this place like visiting 1930’s Germany and eating a good schnitzel?”

 

He laughed. “Maybe a little bit. This is one of the worst governments in the world. On the other hand Jack, they are seeing us, talking to us and getting a perspective of the United States and the rest of the world they wouldn’t have if we weren’t here.” My Dad has been doing much better physical and mentally since Christmas. He isn’t the same as he was a few years ago—he still has a mentally and physically incurable, progressive, fatal disease—but he is able to move around better, isn’t in as much pain, and he seems more engaged and alert. It generally isn’t good to vary the routine of someone with dementia. I can’t imagine a bigger change than taking Dad to Burma! It’s confusing to me too! My mom, Casey, Sukey, Carol and I watch him constantly, the pathways are uneven and sometimes slippery, but he managed to complete the trip without a fall, without any significant mental lapses and he seemed to enjoy the experience. I value every significant conversation I have with him now, and in some ways, because of his integrity, experience and character, I still trust his impressions and observations more than my own.

 

As we left the airport we saw our first signs of the temples of Bagan. The brick structures rise out of the landscape like fantastic circular spires. Some are hundreds of feet tall, a few are shorter than Casey. All of them bear the stamp of long dead master craftsmen and though they evoke memories of Jordan, India, Peru and Thailand, the shape, architecture and presence is unique to Burma. Most of the temples were built between 900 and 1200, and to me they reflect that era’s Hindu past, Buddhist future and respect for “nats.” One of the most interesting things in Burma is the ongoing worship of the “nat” or spirits associated with lakes, trees and hills. The animistic worship of nats predates Hinduism and Buddhism and the blend of Buddhism and worship of nats is unique to Burma. It is still very much alive today. I was envious of how this culture has managed to embrace both beliefs.

 

It is estimated there are more temples, or “stupas,” in Bagan (an area roughly the size of Manhattan) than there are medieval cathedrals in Europe. Everywhere I looked temples stood large, small, some surrounded by palm tress and brush, others standing alone, majestic in open fields.

 

We checked into our luxurious hotel and went to a traditional Burmese lunch on the river. After lunch we visited many of the most famous temples including Manuha Paya and Dhammayangyi Pahto. At Manuha Paya we were taken to two enormous Buddha’s severely enclosed in a very tight temple. Dhammayangyi Pahto was an immense structure that felt like a mysterious gothic castle. Inside were dark, musty, brick passages ways, uneven steps and intriguing staircases. The ascending terraces on the exterior made it seem obvious to me that there had to be passages inside that I didn’t notice. Both of these temples are “popular” and that means that in addition to sharing the temples with many other tourists, we were inundated with local vendors.

 

The hawkers in Bagan aren’t as aggressive as Egypt, but they are consistent, relentless and ubiquitous. Our guide taught us to say “no thank you” in Burmese, which helped considerably. Casey and I both found it hard to say no. Often the sales people were young, pretty girls, or six to ten-year old boys, and the intensity with which they pursued us validated how much they needed the money.

 

We went for an oxcart ride an hour before sunset. The oxcarts are pulled by horses and aren’t too comfortable. My father had a difficult time keeping balanced and Casey quickly got bored. Each cart held two passengers and a driver. About half way through the ride Casey decided to practice cross-country and he ran ahead of the cart. I loved watching him jog along the dusty dirt paths interspersing the temples of Bagan. As the sun set and I watched him run my heart felt so grateful that we are now a family. Eventually he got tired and climbed aboard my parents cart.

 

Since we were alone I took some time to talk to my cart driver. He told me he was born in Bagan.

 

“Did you used to play here when you were a boy?”

 

“Oh yes, we skipped school and played in the temples.”

 

“Did you used to run after the carts too?” Small boys had run after our carts begging for candy till we ran out.

 

He laughed. “Oh yes, we all do that.”

 

It felt like both of us wanted to say more. No one was around. We were approaching dusk, surrounded by temples, just two men in a cart in the middle of Burma. I decided to take a chance.

 

“Your country is very beautiful. It’s very different than the USA.”

 

“What is it like there?” He asked. What little he knew was mostly gleaned from television, movies and hope.

 

“It’s very big. We have oceans, mountains, deserts, lakes. Some bad people but mostly good people.”

 

“You have bad people?”

 

“Sometimes. Even our government can be bad. But we can complain. If I don’t like Obama, I can say he is a bad leader and I don’t vote for him. If I don’t like George W Bush, I can say he is a bad president and vote for someone else. When we have a government we don’t like we can try to change it with an election.”

 

“You like it there?”

 

“Yes. I am very lucky to live there. The USA has some problems, but to me it is still a very good place. I hope we can solve our problems. People are people. We make good decisions. We make bad decisions. A lot of people are greedy, some people don’t have money or jobs. But most people are able to get them.”

 

The sound of the horse hoofs clacking against the dusty road interrupted the silence.

 

“I don’t think I can go there. It is very hard to get a passport here.”

 

I looked him in the eye. “I know that. I hope someday you can travel and see the world. I’ll tell you something. I never thought I would be able to come to Burma, but here I am. I hope someday you can go to Thailand, Canada, Europe, Australia or USA. I really wish that for you.” He smiled at me. Both of us knew it was unlikely, but where there is life there is hope.

 

We arrived at our sunset viewing pagoda. I tipped him far too much, gave him a Marriott hotel pen and joined my family to watch the sun descend over Bagan. Sunset is a major event. The changing lights magically transform the landscape. It’s easy to imagine being in a fairytale. Casey, my Mom, Carol and I climbed the Buledi stupa to watch as the sun went down, Sukey and my Dad chose not to climb the dark narrow steps. The most popular temple for sunsets, the nearby Shwesandaw Paya, was filled with hundreds of tourists. I preferred the quieter viewing spot on Buledi that our guide chose.

 

After sunset we ate dinner at the hotel, my parents and I got massages, and went to sleep. The next morning we ascended a 200-foot manmade tower. While I agree with the critics who bemoan that the tower doesn’t blend in, the 360-degree view is fantastic. It is possible to take a hot air balloon over Bagan, but at $300 a person,it wasn’t in our budget. Going up the tower was as close as I got to the view from a balloon.

 

After breakfast we went to the Nyaung Oo Market. Most of the stalls were filled with vegetables, fruit, dried fish and spices, but a few of them sold souvenirs. Prices were cheap. I wanted some masks, a puppet, inexpensive lacquer ware and a few woodcarvings. As soon as I started buying souvenirs I was surrounded.

 

“I give you cheap price,” a brown-faced girl said thrusting a wooden moon in my face.

 

“You want t-shirt? You want t-shirt?” Another asked as she tried to lead me to her stall.

 

“You like this?” I turned and saw Casey surrounded by four or five vendors thrusting elephant puppets, masks and fans at him. We started getting separated by the crowd. There were at least fifteen people mobbing us for sales. I used my size to get back to Casey’s side.

 

“Don’t buy anything else Dad! It just makes them try to sell us more!” I assured Casey we would be OK, and I forced our way back.

 

“Where you from Mister? Where you from?” A little group of hawkers circled us all the way till we climbed the stairs into the air-conditioned cocoon of our bus. We took our seats toward the back.

 

“Look Dad!” Casey pointed toward the window. A young man was lifting carved male and female figurines up and down outside the bus window. Casey walked over to the window and shut the curtains. “Don’t open them, Dad!” He warned. Ignoring his warning I opened the curtain, bought the figurines and shared a giant Butterfinger with all of them. I’ve been on their side of the fence too many times not to feel empathy at their desire to close a sale.

 

Though the shopping was a hassle, the prices were good. Masks were $5 to $15, a cheap puppet $5, a “good” marionette $25. Lacquer ware boxes were plentiful in the $3 to $8 range. I spent a little over $150, and I was glad that I bought only one thing from each vendor. While the inevitable accumulation of sellers was a hassle, I wanted to spread my money to as many different people as possible.

 

Next we went to the Schwezigon Pagoda. The entrances were lines with kids selling postcards, permanent t-shirt displays, lacquer ware and inexpensive paintings. The interior was peaceful and dozens of gold Buddha’s were surrounded by ornate roofs and walls. Right next to a small Buddha was a pavilion devoted to worshipping the nats. Casey was getting hot and tired. I sympathized with him. My mom reminded both of us how much I used to complain as my Mom and Dad took me to cathedrals in Holland, France, England and Germany. My only memory of Notre Dame in Paris is how eager I was to leave it and get an ice cream. The only cathedrals I liked were those that displayed real skulls and bones—something I never got to see in the churches back home.

 

“Can we go now? I’m really bored.” Casey looked grumpy and tired. Our guide, sensing his displeasure, made a suggestion.

 

“Casey, would you like to ring this bell?” She pointed to an enormous 12’ bell and a large wooden gong. He immediately brightened.

 

“Yes!” She told him to ring it at least three times. He hit it five. As we turned a corner we noticed several monks about Casey’s age. I had tried to get Casey to pose with monks earlier, but I was unsuccessful.

 

“Casey,” Sukey said. “I’ll give you five bucks to take a picture with those monks.”

 

“Sure!” He went right over and gave her a big smile.

 

While I enjoyed the famous temples, I wanted to see more of the “tourist and hawker free” temples that we kept passing in our bus. I told our guide that I was going to skip lunch and wanted to be left near some temples where I could spend some time alone.

 

The bus dropped me near a grassy field with over a hundred temples of various sizes on either side of the road. None of them were as famous as the temples that every guide leads tourists too, but the hour I spent there, my back against a warm brick wall, watching a cow graze in front of thousand year old stupas is among my favorite memories of Bagan. When I travel I like to soak things in. I also enjoy solitude. As much as I love people, I’m happiest when I can also spend some time alone, especially in a place like the temples of Bagan. I was tired of hawkers, crowds, Casey’s complaining and worrying about whether my Dad was going to fall on an uneven surface. I sat with my iPod, listening to some of my favorite music, trying to imagine some of the events that had unfolded where I sat over the last thousand years.

 

When the bus picked me up everyone else got out and took some pictures and looked around too. After that, we went to a lacquer ware factory and I bought a very expensive 2’ tall gold leafed stupa to take home. Our flight was delayed an hour and Casey got bored in the airport. He had purchased a longyi and practiced tying it in the airport. Two monks started watching him and they were so amused by the young westerner trying to tie a longyi they started taking pictures of him. When he finally was successful, they applauded along with 20 other bored, delayed passengers. One of the monks approached Casey and gave him a gift of candy—receiving something from a monk is considered very good luck here—and another tour guide worked with Casey to make sure he can tie his longyi Burmese style when he returns homes.

 

One of our friends was badly injured on the walk from the terminal to to the plane. Our guide arranged for my parents to be the first passengers aboard as we had stressed my father’s motion and depth perception issues. When they were led away, about 60 others, including me, pushed toward the doors. There was no assigned seating, and many of us were anxious to find seats with our traveling companions. The quarter mile walk was dark and our friend caught his foot in a small hole. His face and hand were badly cut. The flight attendants and our guide attended him through the flight. When he got back to the ship he needed 18 stitches. I felt terrible. If only we’d all walked slower instead of being so competitive—I was the first person on the plane after my parents, and I’m sure I contributed to the frenzy for seats.

 

We arrived safely back in Yangon and reached the ship about 10:00 p.m.. The next morning we met our guide at 8:15 for a city tour. Nautica was scheduled to leave at 4:00, so I’d arranged for us to return no later than 2:00. As we made our way along the bumpy road to Yangon, I watched closely out my window. I could see that people were curious about us. I didn’t sense resentment, but I sensed that me and my day-to-day life was as much a mystery to them as their lives were to me.

 

When we got to Yangon we went to Chukhtatgyi Psaya, which features a large reclining Buddha. It was housed in a building that looked like a train station. From the entrance steel girders obstructed the view of the Buddha. This Buddha was fairly new—our guide said it was built in the 1960’s—but I couldn’t discern any obvious difference between it and the older Buddha’s we had seen all over Bagan.

 

“Do we have to go see any more Buddha’s Dad? I want to go back to the ship!” Casey was bored and I was getting a little tired of Buddha’s too. When our guide asked if we wanted to see another small Buddhist temple we all politely said no. What we really wanted to see was Shwedagon Paya.

 

Shwedagon is among the most ornate temples in the world. Certainly anyone who has been to Bangkok’s Imperial Palace can’t help but compare it, but Shwedagon is unique and truly can’t be compared to anything. Rising monolithic like and visible throughout much of Yangon, the central gold dome rises to a pinnacle over 300 feet from the base. The spire and base vaguely resemble an ornate genie bottle or an exotic perfume decanter. The uppermost portion reminded me of Apollo 11’s nose. Every square inch is plated in gold. It is said there is more gold plastered on the side of Shwedagon than stored in the vaults of the Bank of England. At the top of the spire is a diamond orb—it can be viewed by strategically placed free telescopes—with 4,351 diamonds that weigh 1,800 carats. The very tip is adorned with a single 76-carat diamond.

 

Surrounding the spire are marble tiles worn from millions of passing bare feet. Surrounding the base are dozens of smaller shrines—each of them a masterpiece in their own right. Trying to absorb the Shwedagon Paya in a few hours is as impossible as taking in the New York Metropolitan Museum in an afternoon. The brain and soul rebel—it’s too much coming in too fast. To really have a sense of the scope, immensity and intricacy would take months of study.

 

We walked around the central spire clockwise. I tried to take pictures to capture some of the spirit of Shwedagon, but it was impossible. I noticed some local photographers selling pictures to tourists and for $5 they agreed to take 10 photos of my Mom, Dad, Casey and me with my camera. They were expert at capturing good images.

 

The plaza can get very hot. The sun reflects from the tons of gold and the marble tiles absorb the heat. Fortunately there was just enough sun to make everything sparkle, but it was only about 80 degrees. On more typical, hotter days, mats are placed over the tiles so visitors don’t burn their bare feet. As I helped my father step into another shrine displaying a holy bell he stopped me. “Jack,” he said.

 

“Yes, Dad.”

 

“Do you know what this reminds me of?” I looked around. There were green frescoes, white Buddha’s, gold leafed iron and glass mirrors surrounding us. A giant bronze bell stood in the center of the small pagoda.

 

Thinking might be a transformative moment for him, and wishing I could relate to him better I said, “No, Dad. I’m sorry I don’t. What are you thinking about?”

 

“Right over there,” he pointed about 100 feet away to a row of mirrors and 3’ Buddha’s on pedestals, “that looks just like a row of lucky slot machines.”

 

I burst out laughing. “I guess it does. Do you want to walk over there?”

 

“Uh-huh,” he slowly made his way down the steps and walked over to the small Buddha’s. “I’m going to rub the belly for luck,” he whispered conspiratorially. Our guide kept Casey diverted by ringing bells and “fanning” a 90’ Buddha. There was a long rope that visitors can pull to offer the Buddha fresh air. After an hour we decided to leave. It was clear that my Dad and Casey were ready to go, and we needed to make our way back to Nautica.

 

We drove through the old colonial section of Yangon and looked at the buildings built by the British in the early 20th century. As we passed one I noticed three young girls laughing in front of a heavily fenced building surrounded by barbed wire. The younger generation is so used to guards, fences and barbed wire that it has simply become part of their daily life. As we crossed the Yangon River on our way to the port I turned back toward Yangon. A gold temple reflected through the haze in the afternoon sunlight. There was so much to admire here—devotion to spiritual practices, respect for elders, friendliness and curiosity—but I was still appalled that a few thousand men kept the country under what I would consider martial law simply to provide themselves an unfathomable material lifestyle. Ambition is appropriate to teenagers and young adults—it’s probably essential as part of the process of learning to be independent—but at some point I believe naked ambition at the expense of others must be replaced by compassion, consideration and love. It’s clear to me that the objectives ambition usually seeks—money, power, sex, fashion—while often enjoyable in the short term, quickly lose their allure over time. Comparing sex, money or fashion to family, children and integrity is like comparing popsicles to icebergs. I made that mistake once. It damn near cost me my soul. I’ll make many mistakes in the future, but I won’t make that one again.

 

As we neared the port I glimpsed Nautica in the distance. She felt like an oasis of freedom and safety in a strange port. My iPod was set to randomly play songs. As I listened to music and reflected on Nautica, wondering why I was born to loving parents in a privileged country, in a privileged century I heard Buffalo Springfield sing, “There’s something happening here, what it is ain’t exactly clear…” That’s it! There is something happening here in Burma, and it is obfuscated, but I can’t help but believe that the compassion of the Burmese, the courage of Aung Sun Suu Kyi, the people’s devotion to the divine and their profound sense of community won’t eventually overthrow their corrupt leaders.

 

Several times Burmese people whispered to me that they believe Aung Sun Suu Kyi can be their country’s Nelson Mandela. They knew he was locked up, oppressed and isolated by an unjust government, and that knowledge gives them hope. In a world where governments can’t completely isolate their citizens from the greater global community the general can’t stay in power forever. Too many Burmese know too much about the spirit and history of Gandhi, Nelson Mandela and Martin Luther King. They know that some nations believe that “all people are created equally”, and despite the Generals efforts to rewrite history and mold the spirits of young Burmese, rumors of freedom, knowledge of freely elected world leaders, cell phones, the Internet and tourists make total isolation impossible.

 

I don’t know when Burma will change, but I hope it’s soon. The next time I stand on the plains of Bagan and admire the 1000 year-old temples I hope to stand in a free Burma—a land where the obscene lust of a few corrupt men no longer obstruct the needs of the many for the benefit of a few.

 

Thanks for reading,

 

Jack

[Marebear]

Awesome review of your trip! You made my day again and again I will pass it on! Mary

[LHT28]

 

AussieGal, LHT28 and Horndorner, yes it is Donald Cant. The hilarious thing is I met him in the laundry room! He had watched my lecture on video (they broadcast the enrichment lectures for a few days after each one) and wanted to talk.

Jack

 

You never know who you will meet in the laundry room ;)

A wonderful review once again

Looking forward to the next installment

 

Lyn

[tanny18]

Well Jack, you have put it over the top for us going on the cruise late this year!! If nothing else, Bagan will be at the top of our list of things to see . Glad your Dad is doing a tad better....I know the feeling, my father had Parkinsons for many years -- it's hard on everyone!! Keep those entries coming. We all appreciate them. Arlene;)

[Carolina Cruiserr]

Jack, words cannot describe the effect your report has had on me. I'm either laughing or crying or learning something interesting. Since your very entertaining report two years ago, I have longed to take another vicarious trip with you. Please let me know when your book about Casey is published. I know what it's like to worry about a loved one's health while both of you are cruise passengers. A little over a year ago on Regatta's cruise to the Amazon, my husband became ill. He was treated with care and concern by the ship's medical personnel. Upon our return home he was admitted to the hospital and died 11 days later. I did not know if I could face sailing on Regatta again, with so many memories from 5 previous cruises on her. Last June, my daughter accompanied me on the cruise my husband and I had booked to Ireland, Scotland, and Norway. It was a bittersweet, but necessary, trip for me. This March I am brave enough to travel solo on a Holland America 30 day trip to Hawaii and the South Pacific. Best wishes to you and your family as you enjoy the remainder of this very special trip. Dot

[wripro]

Jack,

 

Among the many things I admire about you is your ability to extract the most from traveling. So many people concentrate on the obvious yet you seem to connect not only with the sights but the people as well. Maybe it's because you look at everything through three sets of eyes, your own, your son's and your father's.

[Paulchili]

Jack,

Thank you for another excellent and informative installment. This one was one of my favorites, admittedly for a selfish reason, as I have planned a trip to Sri Lanka and Burma for 2012. We had to skip Colombo on our cruise due to unrest and on a prior trip we only visited Yangon. This time I plan to spend more time in both places.

I suspected you had a good reason to use Burma instead of Myanmar, I just didn’t know exactly what that was. Thank you for your insight into the political background of Burma and I now will call the country Burma as well. You have made me aware of many things I did not know (such as using only Air Mandalay) so I may have to fine tune my trip based on your advice. I will contact you via e mail after your cruise to get some recommendations and thus benefit from your experiences.

I hope your Dad and everyone else will continue to feel good and have a safe and enjoyable remainder of your journey.

Paul

[Aussie Gal]

Jack,

 

What a wonderful instalment I have just read this morning of your cruise. I knew the history of that country well and the oppression they have been under for many years but didn't know that tourists were able to visit quite as easily as you have done.

 

You have certainly opened my eyes to beauty of Burma and now that is on my list of places I want to visit in the not too distant future.

 

Jennie

[JoePDX]

Jack -

 

I've long felt that being a traveler also means being an ambassador. I think you excel at this.

 

Thanks for another wonderful read. I'm pleased to hear your Dad is doing better. Like him, I never give up the chance to rub the belly of a lucky Buddha.

 

Cheers,

Joe

[dwelsh]

Your description of your family's travels continue to amaze me!!

 

The only thing thing that your reports lack are photographs. Are you going to publish your album on your return?

[JackfromWA]

A FEW REPLIES

 

Marebear, thanks. You’re encouragement has been wonderful… I’m glad to know we living a day at a time together.

 

Lyn, thanks so much. We’re near the end now but glad you take this trip with us!

 

Tanny18 (Arlene) glad you are booking the trip and do go to Bagan. It’s spectacular. Words can’t do it justice.

 

CarolinaCruiser (Dot), your story touched me so deeply. I hope if something like your experience ever happens to me that I have your courage. Thank you for the inspiration. You have my admiration and respect.

 

Wripro, you may have hit on something. Seeing things through their eyes sure helped… and not just their eyes. Just trying not to see everything through my limited perspective helps. Even though I’m ultimately unsuccessful, I think the effort alone expands my ability to see.

 

PaulChili, we are having our last evening aboard, so yes, my dad made it! Looking forward to hearing from you.

 

AussieGal (Jennie), You will love Bagan. I just wish I could have enjoyed it with you. I loved meeting you in 2008.

 

JoePDX, I shared your affinity for lucky Buddha rubbing with my dad. He laughed. Unfortunately it didn’t help him in Nautica’s casino.

 

Dwelsh, yes, when I get home I’ll post a link where you can see photos. Thanks for asking.

 

PHUKET AND PANANG

 

My report from these two ports maybe a little rushed and short. It’s the last day of the cruise and I just finished packing. In a few hours my Mom, Dad, Carol, Sukey and I will celebrate Casey’s 13th birthday in the Grand Dining Room. His actual birthday is next Wednesday, but we wanted to let him enjoy a birthday cake on Nautica.

 

A few minutes ago, while I was frantically packing in the cabin, trying to remember what was where and what still needed to be done, Casey gently interrupted me, “Dad, could I have eye contact. Just for a moment?” Whenever I really want his attention I ask for eye contact. He rarely asks that of me.

 

“Sure Casey. Sorry I’m so stressed. I keep feeling like I’m forgetting something. What’s up buddy?”

 

He moved about six inches away from me, placed both his arms around my neck, stared directly into my eyes and said, “Dad, before we leave I want to thank you for bringing me on this trip. I really had a good time and I love you.” Before I could answer he quickly kissed me and said, “Now I’m going to go finish my math homework!”

 

Casey has been a delight. Last night Nautica’s cooking demonstrator and two other passengers took me aside to compliment me on Casey’s behavior throughout the past 35-days. “My wife and I travel a lot, we go on Holland America, Princess and sometimes here. Most of the time kids are a pain in the ass. I gotta tell you—your son is an absolute delight. He is well behaved, he holds elevators—that is one good kid!” Hearing other people describe Casey in those terms sends chills down my spine. At home I have three notebooks with hundreds of pages from state psychiatrists, psychologists and adolescent specialists, all of whom describe Casey as having severe behavioral disorders, being in desperate need of psychiatric medication and likely growing suffering from alcoholism, addiction or prison. My experience proves this isn’t destined for Casey. He has the freedom to make his own choices and pick his own path. Hundreds of passengers aboard Nautica consider him well-behaved, polite, honest and a pleasure to cruise with.

 

Last night, Donald Cant, who has played the phantom in Phantom of the Opera hundreds of times, asked if he could keep in touch with Casey via email. They’ve played some games, talked and Casey has asked him quite a bit about theatre. My son loves to work backstage, running lights, controlling microphones and making sure the show goes off without a hitch. Donald wants to encourage Casey’s love of theatre and he loves that I’ve adopted him from foster care and that he is doing so well. Watching the two of them in Horizons last night, laughing, drinking Shirley Temples, both full of life and enjoying each other almost burst my heart with gratitude and pride. The next few years may be hard—Casey will be a teenagers, my Dad has a progressive, fatal disease, but I know there will be many moments of happiness, meaning and depth. I’m starting to believe that life isn’t about always being happy. Joy is great when it happens, but to experience a full life requires feeling everything—pleasures, disappointments, euphoria and grief. And I want a full life. I hope to end up an octogenarian knowing I lived as diversely, deeply and compassionately as I could.

 

Two days ago Sukey arranged an elephant safari in Phuket. The safari company she engaged offered an hour through the jungle, on clean, well-cared for elephants for about $30 each. My parents had never ridden elephants, and the only other time I did it was a hot, short, dusty ride. The experience was amazing. We climbed a small platform, maneuvered to our metal seat attached by ropes around the elephants, and off we went. Each elephant has a mahout who is typically bonded with the elephant for life. I rode the youngest elephant—she was 27—the other three were around 50.

 

Sukey wanted Casey to have his own elephant, so that meant I got my own too. Sukey insisted on paying for Casey, and it was so much fun to watch him. His guide let him sit right behind the elephant’s head. As we slowly made our way through the jungle, feeling the muscles of my elephant vibrate through my bare heels and toes, I tried to let my elephant know how much I appreciated her letting me experience this ride and and the sublime feeling of her powerful, rhythmic gait. Riding her I was fearless. We were truly the lords of the jungles. There are few things as powerful, stimulating and awe-inspiring as riding an elephant.

 

Elephants seem so calm. They are funny, smart, constantly eating and look out for each other—particularly their young. The hour passed quickly and when the ride ended we drove to a seashell museum, a Buddhist temple and a shopping mall. By then it was hot, we’d been off the ship almost five hours, and even though we could have used our driver for a few more hours we returned to Nautica.

 

The next day we docked in Penang, Malaysia. I’d never been to Malaysia before and I was curious to go ashore. The ship berthed right in Georgetown, which is the main city on the island of Penang. Since Casey enjoys excitement, I booked an excursion from Oceania, which offered a tour of Georgetown by trishaw. I’d been on a trishaw before in Vietnam, and they can be very small. I checked with the excursion staff and was told that these trishaws were much larger than those and that they can easily accommodate two or three people. Based on that, I bought two tickets, $69 per person, as I thought going with the ship might be a little safer than traveling alone.

 

When we disembarked I saw the trishaws were small. Most couples had a difficult time fitting in them. The local guide apologized but said that this tour we arranged so we unfortunately had to share. When I asked her privately she indicated that sometimes tour operators or ships arrange for one trishaw per person, but this tour was setup to save costs by sharing. I was annoyed. Trishaws can be rented on the street for $5 an hour. In my opinion, there wasn’t any excuse for Oceania to charge me $140 for a three-hour trishaw tour for two, and then expect me to fit into a trishaw designed for two very small people, or one husky American. I voiced my complaint to the destination staff and since they had a few extra prepaid trishaws they gave me my own and Casey rode with one of the staff he really likes. The tour was fine. We went to a remarkable Chinese Clan House called Pinang Peranakan Mansion. I enjoyed it very much. I’d never seen a wealthy Chinese home from the early 1900’s. The furnishing, design, relief carvings and colors were breathtaking. Next we went to the Baba Nyonya museum. It was interesting, the displays were in English as well as Chinese, but Casey quickly got bored. He wanted to ride around in a trishaw and see more of Georgetown. Our last stop, the Eastern and Oriental Hotel, was a replica of a turn of the century elaborate British meets Asia Hotel. It reminded me of Raffles in Singapore without as much character or ambience. The refreshments they served us on a patio overlooking the ocean were excellent. They gave us a curry treat, chicken satay, tea and desserts. Still, the whole excursion annoyed me. The cost of admission for the museum and clan house was less than $8 per person, the refreshments couldn’t have cost more than $15 and our total time on the trishaw was only about 45 minutes of the three hour tour. We hardly toured Georgetown by Trishaw at all!

 

Needless to say I don’t recommend this tour. Casey and I would have been much better off to rent individual Trishaws and visit the Clan House on our own. After lunch I wandered the streets of Georgetown and really enjoyed it. The island is an easy destination for English speaking passengers as many residents speak some English, and like Hong Kong, the signs are usually bilingual. I bought a few batik shirts, got a foot massage and rode around for about an hour in a trishaw for $4. I would have explored more but it was getting hot by early afternoon—around 85 degrees—so I returned to Nautica.

 

Last night was the final show, Salute. It is sort of a greatest hits from different performers and ended with the crew of Nautica taking the stage to a standing ovation. Leaving a cruise is usually sad. A 7-day Alaska cruise isn’t too difficult—it’s hard to meet many people in a week—but after 35-days with only 600 guests, new friendships form, old friendships grow, and all of us know that though we may cruise again, it will never be with this group of passengers or this crew. Each cruise is unique, and I’ll always remember this as the cruise where Casey enjoyed the last month of his childhood and my Dad, Mom and I really felt the reality of what my Dad’s disease means to our family.

 

Tomorrow morning we disembark in Singapore. Casey and I fly to Hong Kong and then direct to Vancouver. Though I wish I could show him Hong Kong, it’s one of my favorite cities in the world and I am very comfortable there, I am ready to come home. I’m worried about my dog (he was fitted with a wheel chair a few weeks before I left), I miss my friends and I have a lot to do at work. My parents take the same flights the next day. I used award miles and couldn’t get four award seats the same day.

 

A few nights ago a couple on their honeymoon approached me. They are in their mid-30’s and were some of the youngest passengers aboard.

 

“I just want to thank you for your lecture,” she said. “We don’t go to those—though I wish we had seen yours—but I was flipping through the channels in our cabin and I heard you talking and it sounded so honest. I stopped to listen and then made my husband listen too.”

 

“I’m so glad we did,” he interjected, “I believe things happen for a reason and we needed to hear what you had to say about family. Especially about adopting your son. We’ve been trying to have kids and it looks like we can’t have our own. We’ve talked about adoption and weren’t so sure, but after hearing about you and your son we both think we can do it—you really encouraged us.”

 

She nodded in agreement. “We’ve been scared that it might not feel the same, that raising someone else’s child might not feel like raising your own, but I’ve watched you for a month with your son and thought you looked so happy… then when I heard your story, about him being in foster care, how you adopted him, about how you’ve grown to love him… well, we think that maybe the reason we were led to his cruise was to hear you speak.”

 

I didn’t know what to say. I was simultaneously grateful and embarrassed. “You heard my reading so you know it wasn’t always easy. Still isn’t. But you’re right. I couldn’t love Casey any more if he’d been my child from birth. It was a risk to be so personal about Casey in public… but I felt I needed to tell the truth… and I don’t think I could be a good dad to Casey if I didn’t recognize that it isn’t always easy—that sometimes my first reaction to him isn’t love or compassion, it’s anger or frustration. Having you tell me that hearing some of our story is encouraging you to pursue adoption makes it all worthwhile. Thank you so much for telling me—I think we are both encouraging each other.” We talked a few more minutes than went our separate ways.

 

I do want to tell Casey and my story. Not because we’re special or there is anything extraordinary about us, but because it’s a story that is worth telling because it has the possibility of changing lives. When I get home I’m going to finish writing our story. I don’t care how many copies it sells, or whether it’s a literary masterpiece—I care that it makes the world a better place. Good stories are like rocks tossed in a pond. They ripple out, sometimes a little way, sometimes further than we can see, but their energy travels far past their point of creation. I know that telling our story to the best of my ability will change some lives for the better, and from my perspective, that’s the best anyone who creates art can ever hope to achieve.

 

Thanks for reading.

 

Jack

[Druke I]

Well, I'm chiming in late, but did want to say how much I have enjoyed reading this thread.

 

If nothing else, you have caused many of us to re-examine our emotions. Thank you.

[LHT28]

I have enjoyed your journey once again

Hope you and Casey have a safe trip home

 

Just goes to show maybe all troubled kids do not need medication maybe some love & attention would work a whole lot better;)

It sounds like you have done wonders for each other

 

 

Lyn

[Paulchili]

Jack,

Many thanks for hours of interesting reading and lots of good insights. Thank you for sharing your family, your thoughts and lives with all of us - I feel we all are a little better for "knowing you". Looking forward to your next book.

Much luck to your Dad and safe travels home for all!

Paul

[wripro]

Jack,

 

As eloquent as your descriptions of various ports and sights may be it is always the sentence or two about Casey and/or your father which stay with me. I have absolutely no doubt that all those notebooks of predictions about Casey will prove that no matter how emotionally injured a youngster may be someone like you can change his or her life forever. How lucky you both are to have found each other.

 

Have a safe trip home.

[dwelsh]

Dear Jack:

 

We give thanks that you and your family completed a successful voyage and that you were able, by way of your exceptional prose, to share it with this board.

 

To be able to express your deep emotions and loving feelings for your dad and son is a great gift which we wish more of us could express so openly. Being able to share your journey vicariously, has been a joy.

 

God bless you and your family and guide you through the difficult days to come.

 

David & Betty

[Aussie Gal]

Jack,

 

Safe travels home. I have enjoyed catching up with you over these past weeks. Please let us know when your book will be published as I would like to buy a copy. I will be thinking of your father often and hope that his final years will be happy and not too much a strain on your mother and the rest of the family.

 

Your writing is wonderful and so very truthful and heart wrenching. I wish you and Casey the best of everything.

 

Jennie

[cathi]

Jack - welcome home and I say that with a heavy heart. I have really enjoyed your writing and sharing your journey so will be a little disappointed that it is coming to an end. Like Jennie, I will be waiting to hear about the book. Definitely want to read it although I have a feeling it will leave me in tears. No not bad tears these are good tears of heartfelt emotion.

 

BTW - does Casey know how famous he has become??? Here's hoping the teenage years aren't too hard on either of you.

 

Thanks

Cathi