The heavyweight of orchids in full bloom

Back in Singapore, we got a roaming welcome from the largest orchid in the world, the Tiger orchid. In full bloom only once in every 20 years, it is for the moment putting up a huge show at the Singapore Botanic Gardens. If you are around, try not to miss it: 35 long stems are carrying over 50 flowers each, which means that more than 1750 large and fragrant orchid flowers are swaying in the wind  close to the Tanglin gate of the gardens!

 

 

The Tiger orchid (Grammatophyllum speciosum) is named as the markings on the flowers are thought to resemble the stripes of a tiger (leopards are not native to these areas, if you think that it would make more sense). A real heavyweight of orchids (or any other flowers), a mature plant can actually weight more than one ton (!), so it usually grows at the "fork" of the lower tree branches - higher up, it would probably take down the whole tree, or at least the branch is was growing on.

 

This huge, fragrant orchid is native to Singapore, but has unfortunately been extinct in the wild since about year 1900. The National Parks organization has made conservation efforts to reintroduce the plant on the island, and has luckily had some success even in the city center close to Orchard and Alexandra Roads, and more expectedly, in some remote parks (of course, nothing is really remote in little Singapore...). As I said, try make an effort to see it if you are around; it is quite special to see the largest orchid of the world in full bloom!

Early morning stroll in Turku, my howntown

River Aura runs through my hometown Turku, an old trading town since early 13th century and until 1827, the capital of Finland. The handsome Turku Cathedral, seen in the background, was consecrated in year 1300. The huge ducks in the river are a permanent art installation.

We are just back from a couple of weeks in Sweden and Finland, happy to be back home in Singapore but already missing our loved ones. Some years, I'm not sure if I want to go to Scandinavia as I know how hard it will be to leave, even if I really love our life in Singapore - a somewhat schizophrenic feeling that seems to grow each year that goes (we are now into our 7th year away from Saltsjöbaden...).

While in Turku (or Åbo, as it is called in Swedish), my Finnish hometown that I left for almost 23 years ago, I realized all too late that I've never really photographed it like I should. Of course, this epiphany came on my last morning there so not much was to be done, but I nevertheless lugged my camera along on our morning walk along Aura river that runs through the city. We were a bit too late, the sun was already too high up at 8 am making the photos look a bit harsh, but I wanted to include this ramble amongst my posts anyway.

As it was an early morning in late July, most people were on holidays, and the sleepy little city was just waking up to yet another unusually hot summer day. After wandering along the river, we had a freshly brewed morning coffee at one of the many cafes under the old linden trees. Absolutely lovely, both the walk and the coffee.

The archbishop's residence behind the Cathedral - with the Aura river running just behind, not a bad place to live... Edited: I've obviously been away long enough to forget some details... This building is not the archbishop's residence (which is situated in the next block), but a building belonging to Åbo Akademi, the only exclusively Swedish language university in Finland.

Probably my favorite church - the Turku Cathedral. During my school years, I sang in a choir. We spent countless hours here practicing, giving concerts and recording songs for competitions and records, often during the night time to avoid traffic noise. It was quite scary to climb up to the dusty balconies and lecterns of the old church, not much was needed to get my teenage brain to perceive ghosts behind the corners...

The Brinkkala Building, scene for an important tradition in Turku and in the whole Finland: the Declaration of Christmas Peace, which started in the 1320s (and in this actual place since 1888). The tradition is said to been interrupted only during the Russian invasion and occupation of Finland in 1712–1721, in 1917 when the militia was on strike, and in 1939 because of a fear of air raids. The Declaration of Christmas Peace launches the Christmas celebrations and in a way marks the official start of Christmas in Finland. 
 

At noon on Christmas Eve, the declaration is read out loud (and broadcasted on radio, TV and today even on YouTube) to remind people that Christmas peace has begun, to advise people to spend the festive period in harmony, to threaten offenders with harsh punishments, and to wish all a merry Christmas. Standing here in the cold Christmas weather, listening to the ancient message with family and friends, and afterwards, having a hot glögg (kind of gluhwein) is one (in my humble opinion) of the best ways to start the Christmas celebrations.

Pinella, an old restaurant across the park from the Brinkkala Building - sleeping through the early summer morning.

Behind the city library, towards Vähätori with many restaurants and cafes...

The Turku city library was built in 1903 with the Stockholm House of Nobles (Riddarhuset) as a model (what a crazy idea, really).

 

Another café, in another old house... Artek, one of my favorite shops in Finland, used to be here earlier.

 

 A short backstreet leading to yet another café - not open at 8 am, a pity...

 Entrance to Café Quensel, behind the Quensel house built in year 1700. It had a pharmacy by the riverside, which is now a charming museum (the red color looks much more vivid here than in real life).

Inside the courtyard of Quensel house; courtyards like this are typical for the old wooden houses in Turku.

The old Turku Conservatorium, where I spent hours at piano lessons and exams, music theory and history lessons and other fantastic things that I didn't much appreciate at that time...

 

 Under one of the many bridges in Turku - when I grew up, the riversides were filled with small boats ready to take off to the archipelago; now, sadly only very few keep their boats there because of all vandalism (instead, there are many boat and yacht clubs a bit further from the city).

 Walking further towards the river mouth and the sea...

Föri, the famous ferry of Turku (well, famous at least in Turku...). Authorities have tried to close it several times, but never succeeded as it has something of a cult following in the town.

 Mid-July rush-hour traffic in Turku.

 A further view towards the mouth of river Aura - at least the guest harbor is busy and full of boat people on holidays.

One last glimpse from the river mouth towards the Turku Cathedral, before turning back for one of the cafés under the linden trees close to the library. 

 

 For more posts from Turku and areas nearby, do click "Finland" in the Label-section.

 

My Son Sanctuary - the overgrown remains of an ancient civilization

A thousand years worth of work, all taken down in a week would be the short story of the temples at My Son, center of the ancient Champa culture in central Vietnam... Little did the young pilots in their B52 planes know that they were targeting one of the most important ancient cultural sites in South East Asia, when they carpet-bombed the lush valley My Son is situated in. A single, hot August week in 1969 was all it took for the bombers to reduce to dusty rubble most of the 71 temples constructed by skillful Champa builders during nearly a millennium.

 

The monumental temples, all built to honor the Hindu God Shiva, formed together a huge religious center that served the powerful Champa Kingdom, that ruled over large areas of today's south and central Vietnam from about 3rd century until 13th century. The Thu Bon river starts here, then flows past the valley, finally merging into the South China Sea near the ancient port city of Hoi An, where the Champa exchanged goods and ideas with traders from faraway cultures. Buddhism, Christianity and Islam all made appearances, but My Son remained a stronghold of Hinduism until the 13th century. After that the Champa Kingdom slowly declined and was gradually absorbed by the growing power of Viet Nam. By the late 15th century, the Champa Kingdom ceased existing and the Shiva worshippers abandoned My Son.

Even if many of the monuments were documented by French archaeologists in the early 20th century and have now been reconstructed with help of their detailed documentation, the originals were lost forever. A deep green jungle covers now much of the valley, hiding huge craters of bombs and countless undetonated landmines under it. Remains of the ancient sculptures and structures form only soft mounds in the landscape, with no hope of ever rising again.

 My Son Sanctuary is a UNESCO World Heritage site - read more about its history here.

Days of bliss at Borobudur on Java...

 Stupas on the top of Borobudur - each of which contains a statue of a meditating Buddha.

 

Another short interlude away from the daily rush of Singaporean city life; this time, a long-lived wish of mine was fulfilled by touring the Borobudur temple on central Java. For no reasons quite clear to me - religious, spiritual or otherwise - I'd been drawn to this enigmatic temple for long time, and was absolutely happy to get to see it with my own eyes.

 

Why enigmatic? Well, despite many authoritative-sounding explanations, no-one really know exactly why and who built the temple, even if some reliefs on it tell that it was constructed sometime in the middle of the 9th century, during the time of the Saliendra dynasty rulers in Java. As no great cities or centers have ever surrounded it - no remains has been found - no-one quite knows why the temple was built just where it is, in the middle of a fertile volcanic valley in the middle of the island.

 

Even the purpose of the temple is a bit unclear, but at least, several theories of what it represents have been given. The most popular theory says that it was built to represent the many layers of Buddhist theory in the shape of a traditional Buddhist mandala (a traditional symbol in both Buddhism and Hinduism that represents the universe). According to this view, rising from the lowest levels to the highest, one wanders through three zones of consciousness, until reaching the central top sphere representing unconsciousness or Nirvana. Of course, the crowded consequences of Borobudur being an UNESCO World Heritage site were there, but arriving just before sunset, the tour buses had left and we could wander around the many stupas and statues of Buddha in the calm of the evening - until it was time for the evening prayers, and the loudspeakers of countless mosques of the now Muslim Java started airing out their litanies. The resulting atmosphere was quite surreal - tens of serene Buddhas listening to the blaring message of Islam - but at the same time very revealing, reflecting the strong religious dedication of the Javanese since centuries back.

 

As impressive as Borobodur was, I was even more taken by the local nature, lush and abundant with plants with names from stories and history books; spices like cloves and coffee, luxurious hardwoods like teak and mahogany; fruits and vegetables from bananas and pandan to chili and taro. I'd been so focused on the temple that I'd given no real thought for anything else, but this "else" proved to be just as interesting, and at least as beautiful. A couple of days of unexpectedly serene bliss, really.

 

Sunrise from our terrace - with two volcanoes, Mount Merapi and Merbabu in the horizon.

Another - almost steamy, when the morning mist was being burned off by the rising sun - view to the fertile volcanic valley, with fields of rice, corn, chili and tobacco.

 A Javanese version of a Chinese brush painting... I just couldn't stop drinking in the view (and taking pictures).

The temple of Borobudur in the morning mist.

 

 

A Buddha without a stupa, gazing towards the rising sun behind Mount Merapi.

More stupas... on the upper levels. My youngest actually looked into every single one of them, checking that the Buddhas were still there.

Yet another view of the stupas... this time, in the fading evening light.

 

Layers of  steamy jungle...

A hike high up to the mountain - we thought we were doing well, and then met a grandmother, carrying her grandchild on the steep path, all the way down to the village. And soon after, an old man with his shopping bag. Our guide told us that the people living on the mountains do this several kilometers long hike just to buy groceries or to go to the mosque - so much for our "achievements"...

A popular shady resting place under the large stone - the village can be seen long way down the mountain on the left in the picture...

One of the houses up on the mountain, beautifully built of bamboo and wood.

Another house, with the typical high pitched roof form that cools down the building...

More buildings, with the lovely, woven bamboo walls. 

On the top of the mountain, with the villages below...

And to our surprise, behind us on the top of the mountain was a garden growing corn, chilies, bananas and coconuts - the lava soil being so fertile, even so high up!

On the way down, an old man was having a break under the large stone. 

 And yet another view of the valley, with the temple of Borobudur just barely visible in the middle.

 

 

Hoi An - an ancient melting pot frozen in time

One of the best things with living in Singapore is how so many amazing places are so easily reachable - countless major cities and old centers of civilization are just a short flight away, with no need to fight any jetlag. Recently, I flew with two friends to Hoi An over a long weekend; just three hours after boarding the plane at Changi, we were all checked in and looking for the best available local restaurant for dinner. Easy!

 

Of course, we all vowed not to be interested in shopping, but only in culture - which Hoi An is well-known for, having been an international melting pot of culture and trade since the days of the Champa Kingdom from 2nd century and onwards. Despite its long history, its golden era took place later; an important commercial port was built and developed in the 15th to 16th centuries. During the 17th and 18th centuries, traders from Far East, Southeast Asia and India, and all the way from Portugal, Spain, Holland, Italy, England and France anchored here to trade goods like silk, spices, pottery and porcelain, aloe wood and swallows' nests (the last of which probably didn't end up in Europe...). Traders from many nationalities were allowed to settle down, build their businesses and preserve their own customs, which transformed the ancient little trading port into the biggest commercial port of Vietnam, and into a melting pot for cultures from both East and West.

All was well until 19th century, when a new port was built in Da Nang, only 30 kilometers away, but far enough to make Hoi An miss out the new winds of business and development. Missing trading, its lifeblood since ancient times, Hoi An slowly languished away. The old city continued its old ways of life, like a sleepwalker frozen in time, until it was "discovered" again by cultural enthusiasts in late 20th century. Hoi An was added to the UNESCO World Heritage Site list in 1999 as a treasure of human cultural heritage, which of course has made the city busy again - there simply is no more effective way of attracting hoards of middle-aged (and often somewhat wealthy) tourists, than being included  to that list. (Please keep quiet if your favorite place is dear to you...).

 

Loaded with handicrafts - lantern makers, tailors, shoemakers, jewelry, pottery, you name it - Hoi An somehow managed to turn us from "temples only, please" kind of tourists into intensive shoppers. But despite crowds and all commercial attractions, Hoi An has still great charm; the buildings are stunningly beautiful  - and not renovated to an inch of their lives; the local people unfailingly friendly, and the local food - oh well, where do I start?

 

The Japanese Bridge - built by Japanese traders in 16th-17th century - has a small Buddhist temple attached to one side. Somewhat of a symbol for Hoi An, it is constantly surrounded by tour groups.

 

A local fruit vendor with the typical round baskets that are carried on shoulders. The Japanese bridge to the left, decorated with a pomegranate, a common symbol for fertility and abundance in both China and Japan. The roof is beautifully decorated with blue and white porcelain plates - wares that were traded in Hoi An since ancient times.

 Lantern makers build and sell their wares in the small ancient houses.

 

Some of the old houses are in complete disrepair - and make dream projects for wealthy "expats" from both Vietnam and other countries.

Small temples, clan houses and shops door to door - the commerce continues, just like it has always done through many centuries... Two versions of "shou", the sign for longevity, on the red wooden doors - it was used as a decorational element in countless places.

A Chinese tourist group on an excursion.  
 

  A shop with beautiful handicrafts, housed in an old building with signs from the French colonial times reading "Savonnerie Xa Phong" - see under the windows.

 

A beautiful door inside the temple grounds - I absolutely loved the color palette of the buildings in Hoi An - soft blues, ochre yellows and reds, leafy greens... so beautifully combined.

The temple was dedicated to Ma Zu, a sea goddess, and had all suitable paraphernalia - like this sailing boat, a great reminder of Hoi An's past. 

More of the lovely colors... this soft blue with a drop of lavender probably was my favorite. 

An old lady selling ceramic figures representing the animals of the Chinese zodiac - I just had to buy all 12 of them...

 

Flowers and traditional baskets outside the market - I really wanted a set of the baskets, complete with the "carrying parts", but couldn't think of a way to transport them back.

What should we play next?

Pottery from one of the many shipwrecks by the coast near Hoi An. Ceramics and porcelain were traded here for centuries, and every now and then disaster struck - even today, many shops sell "shipwreck goods", and it is difficult to know if they really are that, or just pretending...

 A man sweeping clean the steps to a Chinese clan house.

View from a restaurant where we had drinks at the roof top - with a pole of red lanterns attracting customers.

And finally, the riverside at Hoi An, with more restaurants and colorful lanterns.