In 1900 Tonga became a British protectorate.
In 1970 Tonga gained independence from whatever this protectorate was.But I cannot for the life of me see the difference between being colonised and being a protectorate.
Thursday, 21 February 2019
Wednesday, 20 February 2019
Tonga.
Yes, my day on Apia, Samoa,was the best day I've had on this cruise to date.And had Tonga offered wi-fi somewhere,anywhere,it would have a pride of place,or is it place of pride,next to Samoa.
We, in Europe, are so used to certain comforts, that it is rather strange when something so readily available to us, is not available.
We docked in the capital at 8, the Ministry of Culture band,dancers and singers, welcoming the ship as the first cruise ship to arrive this year [due to the hurricanes two had cancelled].And we were happy to be under the cloudless sky with The Royal Palace almost on our door-step.And then dark dense clouds enveloped the ship and the heavens opened.But the band played on, the singers kept singing,the dancers dancing.
40 minutes later the downpour had stopped and I ventured out. Tonga had Post Office a short walk away and my priority was to get postcards. Having completed my purchases I sat down in a rather pleasant coffee shop.
We docked in the capital at 8, the Ministry of Culture band,dancers and singers, welcoming the ship as the first cruise ship to arrive this year [due to the hurricanes two had cancelled].And we were happy to be under the cloudless sky with The Royal Palace almost on our door-step.And then dark dense clouds enveloped the ship and the heavens opened.But the band played on, the singers kept singing,the dancers dancing.
40 minutes later the downpour had stopped and I ventured out. Tonga had Post Office a short walk away and my priority was to get postcards. Having completed my purchases I sat down in a rather pleasant coffee shop.
Two tables were occupied by businessmen [always a good sign coffee is good] discussing contracts.The latte was excellent, made from locally grown beans.After about half an hour I thought I caught one of the men looking at me,smiling.Another half an hour and having finished writing my cards, I got up and went to the counter to pay.The man whom I thought had smiled at me,suddenly by my side.I am Tom,he said, Canadian, my colleagues would vouch for my integrity.
Would you please have lunch with me, there is a lovely restaurant not far and by 1 I should be free. Why, I asked incredulously. You were often smiling when writing,people dont usually do that,you must be a very nice person and I would like to get to know you better. I am here until 5 only and I have plans,I replied slowly. After lunch my driver would take us anywhere you wish. No,thank you,another day,another time maybe.
He kept on smiling - please take my card,the world is a much smaller place than it at times seems,it is easy for two people to meet even though they may live on different continents.So here I am looking at Tom's business card,considering whether the world really is such a small place.
He kept on smiling - please take my card,the world is a much smaller place than it at times seems,it is easy for two people to meet even though they may live on different continents.So here I am looking at Tom's business card,considering whether the world really is such a small place.
"Hell is other people",said Jean Paul Sartre.
Yes,a stumblebum for a neighbour,combined with relentless heat that gives no respite in the Tropics,can be a double whammy to endure.
Having had my fill of "free" wi-fi,not "free" at all, really,as a glass of orange juice at $5 pays for the use of wi-fi handsomely [and I had three], but it is lovely sitting in a comfy chair in a pleasant foyer of a hotel,even though there was,surprisingly, no ventilation of any kind in the public areas of the best hotel on Samoa, Sheraton, I decided just after 4 to walk back to the ship.
The 12 or so minutes seemed in the scorching heat twice as long.
It was a relief to be back on The Queen Victoria.
The stateroom was cool, but the balcony floor unbearable to walk on and the chairs impossible to sit on.
So I washed all my clothes [ there is a clothes line above the tub ],had a shower and went to dinner.
In bed flipping the TV channels I happily deduced I had the best port day on this cruise.
Having had my fill of "free" wi-fi,not "free" at all, really,as a glass of orange juice at $5 pays for the use of wi-fi handsomely [and I had three], but it is lovely sitting in a comfy chair in a pleasant foyer of a hotel,even though there was,surprisingly, no ventilation of any kind in the public areas of the best hotel on Samoa, Sheraton, I decided just after 4 to walk back to the ship.
The 12 or so minutes seemed in the scorching heat twice as long.
It was a relief to be back on The Queen Victoria.
The stateroom was cool, but the balcony floor unbearable to walk on and the chairs impossible to sit on.
So I washed all my clothes [ there is a clothes line above the tub ],had a shower and went to dinner.
In bed flipping the TV channels I happily deduced I had the best port day on this cruise.
Tuesday, 19 February 2019
Queen Victoria docked in Apia,the capital of Western Samoa,on Sunday 17 February 2019.
Sunday is never a good day to arrive in any port,especially in a religious country like Samoa.Everything was closed. Not that I wanted to buy anything except postcards and stamps.Not on a Sunday in Samoa.There were some stalls on the quay with identical clothes, people were browsing.Not for me.
Robert Louis Stevenson,the author of The Treasure Island and my favourite book of his, Kidnapped,also a lovely film of the same name,arrived in Samoa in 1889,suffering from tuberculosis,and died there 5 years later,having built Villa Vailima at the foot of Mt Vaea on a plot of land he had purchased for £200.The wish of this "Tusitala" the teller of tales,to be buried at the top of the mountain,had been fulfilled by the Samoans,who cut the dense tropical undergrowth to the summit and the burial ceremony was almost a royal occasion.In the travel books Mr Stevenson is given a scant mention as if the travel writers had never been on Samoa and not see that Villa Vailima,now a museum,is the only place of any importance and value other than a protestant cathedral on Apia,anything else is just business created by tour companies.
In the 19th century Samoa was divided into American Samoa in the East [in 1872 the harbour of Pago Pago had been ceded to the US ] and German Samoa in the West [the Germans appropriated Villa Vailima for their use .]
The Western Samoa gained independence in 1962 and in 1997 changed its name to Samoa.
"There is a nice walk from the pier to the Mulinuu Peninsula,flower beds on the streets..."says the ship's guide to Apia.
There is nothing nice about the walk from the pier,no flower beds anywhere,the pavements and roads have more holes than Swiss cheese,in places covered by dirty threadbare carpet,yes,carpet,making the roads not only look absolutely ludicrous,but very dangerous to walk on,as one can see the deep dips only when one's foot twists into them.Ferocious heat does not help either,but for me the best way to get to know a place is by walking. So I walked for a good km and then negotiated a $40 ride to take me to the Stevenson museum and the Protestant cathedral.The museum grounds are beautifully kept,as is the museum,all furniture other than a safe, replicas, but done beautifully [The Germans had disposed of everything British,when they occupied Mr Stevenson's home. ]
The Sunday service just finished when we got to the cathedral,it is beautiful inside,simple, colourful.And then I invited the polite and helpful taxi driver for a glass of pineapple juice in the Sheraton hotel,he told me about his life and children and asked a lot about my life and then he dropped me off at the ship.Soaked to the skin from sweat,the heat was ferocious,I quickly changed,had a very pleasant lunch and took a $2 ride back to the Sheraton for some wi-fi therapy.I spent 2 blissful hours in the foyer with a lovely American couple and a waitress from the hotel,all of us sitting at the same table,occasionally smiling at each other.Then an English buffoon sat next to the waitress and started telling her about the most awful tour he had just come from.Our peace shattered.The girl was visibly uncomfortable,poor thing, the precious time communicating with her family in ruins,she got up and said she had to go back to work.The American couple followed. I did not even react when he turned his attention to me,just ordered another orange juice.
Hell is other people, said Jean Paul Sartre,the French philosopher.Yes, other people can be hell.
Robert Louis Stevenson,the author of The Treasure Island and my favourite book of his, Kidnapped,also a lovely film of the same name,arrived in Samoa in 1889,suffering from tuberculosis,and died there 5 years later,having built Villa Vailima at the foot of Mt Vaea on a plot of land he had purchased for £200.The wish of this "Tusitala" the teller of tales,to be buried at the top of the mountain,had been fulfilled by the Samoans,who cut the dense tropical undergrowth to the summit and the burial ceremony was almost a royal occasion.In the travel books Mr Stevenson is given a scant mention as if the travel writers had never been on Samoa and not see that Villa Vailima,now a museum,is the only place of any importance and value other than a protestant cathedral on Apia,anything else is just business created by tour companies.
In the 19th century Samoa was divided into American Samoa in the East [in 1872 the harbour of Pago Pago had been ceded to the US ] and German Samoa in the West [the Germans appropriated Villa Vailima for their use .]
The Western Samoa gained independence in 1962 and in 1997 changed its name to Samoa.
"There is a nice walk from the pier to the Mulinuu Peninsula,flower beds on the streets..."says the ship's guide to Apia.
There is nothing nice about the walk from the pier,no flower beds anywhere,the pavements and roads have more holes than Swiss cheese,in places covered by dirty threadbare carpet,yes,carpet,making the roads not only look absolutely ludicrous,but very dangerous to walk on,as one can see the deep dips only when one's foot twists into them.Ferocious heat does not help either,but for me the best way to get to know a place is by walking. So I walked for a good km and then negotiated a $40 ride to take me to the Stevenson museum and the Protestant cathedral.The museum grounds are beautifully kept,as is the museum,all furniture other than a safe, replicas, but done beautifully [The Germans had disposed of everything British,when they occupied Mr Stevenson's home. ]
The Sunday service just finished when we got to the cathedral,it is beautiful inside,simple, colourful.And then I invited the polite and helpful taxi driver for a glass of pineapple juice in the Sheraton hotel,he told me about his life and children and asked a lot about my life and then he dropped me off at the ship.Soaked to the skin from sweat,the heat was ferocious,I quickly changed,had a very pleasant lunch and took a $2 ride back to the Sheraton for some wi-fi therapy.I spent 2 blissful hours in the foyer with a lovely American couple and a waitress from the hotel,all of us sitting at the same table,occasionally smiling at each other.Then an English buffoon sat next to the waitress and started telling her about the most awful tour he had just come from.Our peace shattered.The girl was visibly uncomfortable,poor thing, the precious time communicating with her family in ruins,she got up and said she had to go back to work.The American couple followed. I did not even react when he turned his attention to me,just ordered another orange juice.
Hell is other people, said Jean Paul Sartre,the French philosopher.Yes, other people can be hell.
Wednesday, 13 February 2019
In Cabo San Lucas,Mexico,on 2 February
I woke up with the mother of throat and chest pains.feeling as if my insides were on fire.
There was a 2h tour "Whale watching" I was so looking forward to.Barely an hour into the adventure too tired to fight my corner to obtain and keep a prime position, I sat down by the water stained window.There were whales frolicking with their babies,dolphins jumping up for my pleasure,there were other fish,too,the name of which I never registered.I simply stopped caring. I had lost the will to live.Back on dry land I set out to look for a pharmacy,they all were closed for lunch, so a cup of coffee and wi-fi were in order.Yes, madam,no problem,you can have both.The liquid muck undrinkable and when I tried to connect was told - I do not know what the problem is, we have no internet today.Crooks.
I picked up some syrup,ibuprofen and antibiotics.Yes, in Mexico you an get antibiotics without a prescription.And a God send they turned out to be.
Back on bard I collapsed into the bed and slept, and slept, and slept.
Almost a week later I was not feeling any better,on the contrary, I lost my voice.
So I looked up Mayo clinic [my most trusted source of information] what their views on sore throat was. If it does not go in 2 days,the cause is not virus, it is bacteria and must be treated with antibiotics to avoid any future problems.
My doctor would never ever prescribe me antibiotics, not even if I were on a deathbed.
The next time she so adamantly refuses to do so,I will, quote her the Mayo clinic.
And yes, four days later I am beginning to feel much better.
There was a 2h tour "Whale watching" I was so looking forward to.Barely an hour into the adventure too tired to fight my corner to obtain and keep a prime position, I sat down by the water stained window.There were whales frolicking with their babies,dolphins jumping up for my pleasure,there were other fish,too,the name of which I never registered.I simply stopped caring. I had lost the will to live.Back on dry land I set out to look for a pharmacy,they all were closed for lunch, so a cup of coffee and wi-fi were in order.Yes, madam,no problem,you can have both.The liquid muck undrinkable and when I tried to connect was told - I do not know what the problem is, we have no internet today.Crooks.
I picked up some syrup,ibuprofen and antibiotics.Yes, in Mexico you an get antibiotics without a prescription.And a God send they turned out to be.
Back on bard I collapsed into the bed and slept, and slept, and slept.
Almost a week later I was not feeling any better,on the contrary, I lost my voice.
So I looked up Mayo clinic [my most trusted source of information] what their views on sore throat was. If it does not go in 2 days,the cause is not virus, it is bacteria and must be treated with antibiotics to avoid any future problems.
My doctor would never ever prescribe me antibiotics, not even if I were on a deathbed.
The next time she so adamantly refuses to do so,I will, quote her the Mayo clinic.
And yes, four days later I am beginning to feel much better.
FACEBOOK has 2.3 billion users worldwide.
I am one of them.Oh, it had not been easy,I had to be dragged by my family kicking and screaming to join.
"Facebook is facing a wave of criticism over issues of manipulation,misinformation,abuse...".
I do not know about that.
All I know is the joy it brings me every day.
FACEBOOK is wonderful.
Mr Zuckerberg is a genius.
"Facebook is facing a wave of criticism over issues of manipulation,misinformation,abuse...".
I do not know about that.
All I know is the joy it brings me every day.
FACEBOOK is wonderful.
Mr Zuckerberg is a genius.
Friday, 8 February 2019
Who has not heard of San Francisco.
The memories of my first visit to the city have been of the nicest kind.The clam chowder. The sourdough.Will I be able to retrace my steps and find the lovely little restaurant with the menu written on the glass windows,where I had such a nice time talking to the owner?
The moment I left the cruise terminal I knew it was not going to happen.But a local resident had recommended Boudins some 2 km away. Having taken the first sip I was puzzled,is this the clam chowder I was dreaming of?
The moment I left the cruise terminal I knew it was not going to happen.But a local resident had recommended Boudins some 2 km away. Having taken the first sip I was puzzled,is this the clam chowder I was dreaming of?
Before I took my fifth spoonful a massive plate of calamari was on the table. Are these people nuts? Surely you serve one course, and only when it is eaten, you bring the next.Having quickly assessed the situation I knew I was going to say good-bye to the $ 17.I was not going to have it cold, I was not going to ask them to reheat it.The Yanks are well known for spitting into food if their goat is up, in fact never ever do I send the food back anywhere.I rather cut my losses.On the 2 km walk back I met
several down and outs looking for food in bins, so one of them was going to have calamari with tartare sauce.
I had no energy to walk back to the ship and hopped into the first parked cab.The moment the driver opened his mouth I knew I was making a big mistake.Looked like an idiot, talked like an idiot. They find me.But it was a short ride back and I let the cab take the strain.
I had no energy to walk back to the ship and hopped into the first parked cab.The moment the driver opened his mouth I knew I was making a big mistake.Looked like an idiot, talked like an idiot. They find me.But it was a short ride back and I let the cab take the strain.
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