Bunkering in Singapore

Friday March 5th - 5.45 am Entering the port of Singapore

We are in a long line of tankers and other ships sailing slowly in the dark into Singapore to refuel. It is frustrating not to be allowed ashore in any of the ports where we simply stop for fuel.

I visited Singapore about 25 years ago. I know that Chinatown has since been demolished and its inhabitants housed in high rises. Apart from Raffles Hotel, Changi Prison and the wonderful Botanical Gardens, I doubt if much of old Singapore survives. I always thought that had I put photos of Singapore streets and skyscrapers next to those of Toronto, you would have been hard put to tell them apart. Of course the climate, vegetation and pedestrians would have been a clue but without those markers Singapore is like any North American city down town!

25 years ago if you spoke to the taxi driver about his home he would rattle off statistics of new areas where whole communities had been forced (he wouldn't have used that word) into beautiful high rise apartments and were very happy with their new accomodation. The truth then was that this 'migration' caused the break up of communities and although the ground floor of many new apartment buildings were filled with shops so that no one had to go far for food, they could never replace the markets and outdoor gathering places which were so much a part of their culture. Those feelings of displacement will have long past by now. I would never have been given such information by a guide or taxi driver, they all sounded thoroughly brain-washed and spoke only of the efficiency and modernity of the island. (The other thing they said to me repeatedly as I was travelling alone was "Where is your husband?")

I had friends in Singapore, living and teaching on a British Council grant, and it was from them that I learned about the rigidity of the President (?Prime Minister) and the thousand instructions and regulations which literally governed their lives. Where are those friends now Chris? I understand that the situation there has not changed much.

25 years ago I had a wonderful afternoon tea all alone in Raffles Hotel. I sat in a large 'peacock' wicker chair at one of the small tables, each covered with a pristine white table cloth, under whirring fans (punkas?) in the enormous high ceilinged dining room. I ate delicate cucumber sandwches (crusts off!), tiny currry puffs and light-as-air, melt-in-the-mouth scones with strawberry jam and devonshire cream. My tea of course was Lapsang Suchong from a fine china tea pot. I walked through the Raffles bar where I might have stopped for a famous Singapore Sling ( didn't....would now!) and took a photograph of the dignified Sikh who stood in splendour at the front door. I remember feeling wonderfully Noel Coward-ish and "British Empire"!

My favourite discovery on that trip, which included Malaysia and Thailand (and apart from the beautiful island of Penang), was the Chinese tea basket, in every hotel room. I would come in after a hot day's sight seeing and walking about, tired and grubby: I'd take off my sandals (and just about everything else), sit on the bed and open up the wicker basket. Inside were two small handleless cups and a tea-pot all embedded and insulated in the padded basket, and I would have a hot refreshing cup of tea. I bought one of these baskets as soon as I could from the little Chinese shop on King Street in down town Hamilton: we still use it.

Not doing too badly am I describing this place which we are not allowed ashore to visit!?

6.20 am. Still pitch dark. I'm waiting for the sun rise.....

11.20 am

A huge oil tanker has just pulled up parallel to our ship and from which we shall be fed our fuel which will take us to Chennai on the East coast of India and then down to Cochin and the province of Kerala in South India.

We have enjoyed wonderfully informative global study lectures from three experts who truly know their India: religions, temples, mosques, architecture of the Taj Mahal and Indian religious music plus the stirring of politics into all that fascinating mixture.

Liz and Audrey have just come to hang over the railings of our patio in at least 90 degree heat to observe the bunkering process.

I am starting classes on the British Empire in India today as our Sino/American lectures are over, and have been asked to speak about my own experiences and childhood there and possibly in Africa too...not sure. That request makes me think back and remember those days: our servants whom I loved and spent time with, especially of course my beloved Ayah with whom I spent my days and some nights. Also old friends from those days: the only one I might perhaps track down being Ronald Honeycombe, ex-BBC announcer and news reader, now living in Perth Australia.

2.15 pm

We're still bunkering, sitting still outside the port of Singapore in immense heat. Thank goodness today for air conditioning.

Just came back to the cabin from Chris Hill's interesting class ....boy the British were BAD!! As I took notes I sank further and further down in my seat feeling the full responsibility for the dreadful actions and decisions of the British Imperialists. To turn the expression on its head "the white man's burden" is what we did to the peasants in India in the 19th Century.

When I return to my cabin I realise I was not wearing my ID card which is also the key to our door. I knock,,,,and knock...and knock again. Nothing. A neighbour tries to phone the cabin for me....no response. I walk round the ship to all his favourite haunts...no sign of George. I bump into another neighbour and she calls our number...still no response. I knock again HARD....nothing. The academic dean Mark White sees me and says the same thing happened to him and his wife was drying her hair in the bathroom and didn't hear. He went and got another ID cad which he keeps in his pocket. We usually wear them on lanyards round our necks. Great idea I think and off I go. A new ID card is US$ 25.00...oops. 'I can make a temporary one for a dollar' the purser tells me 'but bring it straight back'. So I get it, open the cabin door and where is George? On the balcony/patio, lying full length in the shade, door to the cabin closed, heavy ear phones on!! Of course he couldn't hear me or the phone, he might even have ignored pirates coming on board!

Talking about pirates we sail next into the Straits of Mulacca which, according to our executive dean teaching our final Sino/American relations class yesterday is, and this is the word he used, infested with them. Well! Good thing we have these heavy hoses to turn on them...according to pure gossip no firearms are allowed on board, even by the Captain. I wonder? Apparently the hoses are all laid out ready but I have to say I noticed none of this last year. We shall see.

Jo Skilton and Chris Steeves will be leaving for South Africa soon. We shall be thinking of you
both and looking forward very much to meeting you in Cape Town. Cape Town is having a heat wave at the moment but may have cooled down by the time we are there.

Jeannie in Naivasha can't wait to see you there too... on the 31st I hope.