The Beauty of Chinese Ceramic Spoons is Not Skin Deep

Looking back to my thirty-five years’ love affair with collecting antique Chinese ceramic spoons always brings back joyful and exciting memories. I can vividly recall scouring for these much ignored and elusive common dining utensils in three continents. When I first became a novice collector in the late 1960s, I had to endure painful learning experiences which are documented in my posting of February 2008. However unpleasant these experiences were, they have taught me an indelible lesson in collecting that it takes years of experience and learning to become a shrewd and cultivated collector, and there are no short cuts to it.

At that time, good quality antique pieces were still available in several reputable antique shops in my native Singapore and neighbouring Southeast Asian countries at prices that were a mere fraction of their current market values. In places like Hong Kong, Macau and China prices were much lower than in Singapore and supplies were plentiful as China was then more concerned with political and economic developments than worrying about the outflow of their huge quantities of various kinds of antiques. By allowing the sales of these antiques to other countries to satisfy international demand would earn them the urgently needed foreign exchange in so-called hard currencies, like  the American dollar and the British pound sterling, which would enable them to pay for imports which they needed for national development. It was only years later that they started to restrict the export of good quality antiques when the stocks of these finite historic legacies had run low. Consequently, international market prices for fine Chinese antiques, especially ceramics, shot up by leaps and bounds everywhere because the demand for these had far exceeded supply. Singapore was no exception.

It was four years after I started collecting Chinese ceramics that I began to notice that  a rather unique kind of colourful and gaudy ceramic ware, known as Nonya ware, mostly of the 19th to early 20th century vintages, had made their appearance in a few secondary antique shops and flea marts. They came in different varieties, sizes, shapes, forms and motifs and were decorated in blue and white, monochrome or polychrome palettes. In the bygone era, Nonya ware was highly popular with the affluent local-born Chinese families in both Malaysia and Singapore who would have them specially made in China with specifications to suit their tastes and requirements. The tea and dinner sets would be used only on auspicious occasions to reflect their prominence in society. It became a status symbol to own them. Their entire collections would be handed down to the next generation as family heirlooms. After the older generations had passed on, some unsentimental younger descendants would often sell them off cheaply to antique shops or flea marts due to economic reasons or ignorance of their market worth. Among these Nonya pieces were different types of ceramic spoons which, despite being lowly priced at the shops compared with other more popular Nonya items, had few takers except for a handful of expatriates working in Singapore. There were two main reasons for the lack of interest in these spoons. First, the serious collectors would deem it beneath contempt to have these common dining utensils in their collections. Also spoons, which are a necessity in every Chinese household, both rich and poor, for their daily meals did not appeal to lesser collectors as worthy of collecting. Consequently, most reputable antique shops and other lesser shops would not carry them in their stocks. However, these and other non Nonya spoons were sometimes available mostly at the flea marts. Influenced by the snobbish attitudes of the more experienced collectors, I too, gave these spoons a miss even though I was initially quite fascinated by  some of the finer pieces whose beauty was far from skin deep. In retrospect, I had forfeited a golden opportunity to acquire an assortment of these Nonya and other types of spoons and paid a high price for being a crowd follower instead of being guided by my own artistic inclinations.

A couple of years later, I chanced to read an interesting article in the famed Hong Kong based art magazine, Arts of Asia, about the impressive Chinese spoon collection of an American couple working in Hong Kong. They gave a vivid account of the joys and frustrations of searching, finding and buying different varieties of Chinese spoons in Hong Kong and Macao, mostly dating from the 18th to the early 20th century. The couple had accumulated several hundred pieces of  these over a number of years, with the help of a trusted antique dealer there. They were still eagerly looking out for more finds to add to their collection. These spoons had rewarded them with endless hours of enjoyment and would continue to do so for many more years to come. This article reignited my latent interest in collecting spoons, and I was resolved to buy some before their prices went up.

From then onwards, I spent many a weekend visiting a couple of art and craft shops and flea marts in my home town, which previously had spoons for sale, but I was disappointed that only a few spoons of lower quality but high prices were available. The shop owners told me that spoons were harder to come by now as more collectors, especially local ones, had begun to buy them, thus putting pressures on prices. Another reason was that, compared with other more sought after ceramic wares, spoons were still more affordable for the new spoon collectors caught by the bug of collecting. Over a period of more than a year, I succeeded in buying only twenty pieces of average quality spoons. However, my luck improved significantly when I took a week-long holiday in Penang in neighbouring Malaysia. One of the first things I did was to visit Penang Rd and Rope Walk, where there were a number of antique shops, arts and craft shops and flea marts. What a delightful and rewarding outing it turned out to be! Among the old ceramic items on display, there were many old Nonya and other spoons awaiting patronage. After spending several hours there, I was able to harvest no less than 50 pieces of above average quality spoons, more than two-third of them were Nonya pieces, at vastly lower prices than those I previously paid in Singapore flea marts. The next day, I visited more shops in other parts of the city where there were a number of established antique and arts and craft shops. Good fortune was again on my side and I made several other memorable purchases. I added another 40 pieces of spoons to my collection, not to mention my purchases of other good quality ceramic wares which I would have gladly bought at higher prices in Singapore.

As I was fully satisfied with my lucky ceramic acquisitions there, my family and I spent the rest of our holiday sightseeing and enjoying the justly famous Penang street food which, without a doubt, was and still is, the best and cheapest  in Malaysia and Singapore. Many Singaporeans go there just for the hawker food and for the equally famed pungent local durian fruit, which came fresh from its several durian orchards. After visiting many of the well-known landmarks, we  finally ended up in the historic but somewhat run-down Penang Museum, which was housed in a stately looking building. We were the only visitors there. A very friendly museum staff volunteered to guide us around and he explained to us the history and significance of the major exhibits. My interest was aroused when we came to the section on Chinese and other ceramic collections of Southeast Asian countries, and I spent sometime admiring the rare Nonya ware pieces. Among them was a set of refined Chinese spoons, which were often found in the homes of  the rich local-born Chinese families there. Sensing my obvious interest in the Nonya collection, the genial museum guide inquired if I would be interested to view a private Nonya ware collection at the home of his once-rich family friends, who had asked him to look out for potential buyers for their extensive collection. I accepted the invitation gladly. He later telephoned this family and a family member offered to fetch me from my hotel the same night to see the collection. What a bountiful evening it turned out to be. The large bungalow of colonial architectural design, though old and dilapidated, must have been grand in its heyday. There were plenty of different shapes and sizes of Nonya antiques throughout the house: in the entrance hall, in the living room, in the study and in the dining rooms. They included furniture, cupboards, gold-gilted chest of drawers, intricate wood carvings and dazzling Nonya ceramic pieces in the display cabinets and on the sideboards. There were also many porcelain vases standing at the corners of the floors. To my great delight, there were dozens of perfect condition Nonya spoons and other small pieces of porcelain bowls and plates neatly laid out on a large dinning table for my convenience of viewing. After hours of inspecting and negotiating with my friendly and hospitable host, I bought all the spoons, several other portable ceramic pieces which I could bring home in my car, as well as a number of large wood carvings and furniture items which the owner would arrange to ship to Singapore. I left the house well after 3 AM in the morning fully exhausted, and was grateful for a lift home to my seaside hotel. I made several other return trips to Penang in subsequent years. Alas, by then, there were not many Nonya ceramic pieces and spoons left in the shops and prices had escalated to a level that was approaching the prevailing Singapore prices. This was because Singapore antique dealers and collectors had bought up whatever Nonya pieces they could find in Penang when they were much cheaper than in Singapore. This had seriously depleted the finite stock available to satisfy the insatiable appetite of collectors for this particular ware. It has sentimental values to the people of Singapore and Malaysia who were prepared to pay inflated prices for them.

Besides Penang, the only other Malaysian city that has an even richer Nonya heritage is Malacca, where the Chinese traders had left their permanent footprints since the 15th century. Many had subsequently sunk their roots and set up their families there through inter-marriages with the native women. Their community was continually being augmented throughout the ensuing centuries by migrations of men and women from China, especially during the 19th and the early 20th century. The local-born offsprings of these immigrants came to be called Baba for men and Nonya for women to distinguish them from those born in China. There were, and still are, many wealthy Chinese families there and it is truly the home of Nonya ware. However, being much closer to Singapore in terms of distance compared with far away Penang, it was the most popular destination for Singapore antique dealers and collectors to descend on in search of Nonya ware at bargain prices, years before they would go to Penang after the Malacca shops had practically run dry of these ceramics. By the time I became a buyer of Nonya and other spoons, there were not many such items left in Malacca for me to buy. All in all I was only able to buy less  than ten pieces of spoons there at quite high prices. Of these, I was extremely fortunate to acquire one truly outstanding spoon from a well-known local shop simply because I was willing to pay a grossly jacked-up price as I was anxious to add it to my collection at all cost. Be that as it may, looking back more than 25 years later, I did not make such a bad decision after all for such a pedigree piece! Some distance from Malacca is the Malaysian capital, Kuala Lumpur, which is  not particularly noted for Nonya ware, but I had better luck there in securing more than thirty good pieces of Nonya and other spoons at much more competitive prices than in the home of Nonya ware itself.

As time marched on, my fascination for old Chinese ceramic spoons had become a passion. I was a familiar face in the local shops on weekends. Knowing my partiality for spoons, some shop owners would telephone me whenever they had these in their shops and I would invariably buy those that suited my taste even if I had to pay a higher price for them. Thus, slowly and steadily, my spoon collection grew and I became known as an avid spoon collector to dealers and some collector friends. One fine day, and quite unexpectedly, a collector friend of ours, who was reputed to have the largest collection of Nonya ware in Singapore and Malaysia, telephoned me and invited me to his home to see his collection. It was by far the most comprehensive and superb collection of this ware that I had ever come across. According to my host, he had inherited some of these from his parents and the rest were added to his collection through selective purchases, mainly in Malaysia, over the years when prices were low and this particular porcelain had not yet become so hotly sought after as it has since become. He had accumulated several thousand pieces, much of these were packed in boxes due to lack of display space in his spacious house. He said that he had from time to time sold some of the pieces to take advantage of the growing interest for Nonya ware and the escalated prices paid for these. He assured me that he would offer me very favourable prices for the pieces that I fancied. I told him that I was not a regular collector of Nonya ware in general, but would certainly be keen to purchase his two sets of spoons, of the rare early 19th century provenance, which were among the finest of its kind that I had seen anywhere. Sensing my  keen desire to own these, he quoted what I thought was quite a stiff price because of their rarity. I finally bought them after some haggling over the price. I have never regretted buying these rare and superb pieces and paid a high price for them. What is their estimated value today? according to an expert Nonya ware collector who had seen my spoons, he reckoned that they would be immediately snapped up by a discerning collector at no less than twelve times the price that I paid ages ago!  Like any other form of art collecting, rarity is what determines the market worth of any work of art, apart from its intrinsic artistic quality of course. Nonya ware is now quite scarce in both Malaysia and Singapore shops.

In the past decades, I had travelled to many countries, both on business and holiday. As mentioned in my postings from March to May 2008, I would take the opportunities to drop in at the antique shops and antique markets to buy ceramics and, perchance, to acquire a piece or two of spoons that attracted me. More often than not, I was not disappointed. I did quite well in London, in the South and West English counties as well as in Scotland and Ireland. Even in countries like France, Netherlands, Spain, Portugal and Germany, some Chinese spoons would come my way. The quality of the pieces in Europe and Britain was generally higher than the average pieces available in Southeast Asia. Across the Atlantic, I also have happy memories of my  spoon chasing trips in California, New York and some other states. My best buys were in San Francisco’s Chinatown and in the posh Palm Springs, at the fringe of California’s Death Valley, where the famed Hollywood star, Bob Hope, lived. In San Francisco, I was thrilled beyond words to be shown an array of Chines porcelain spoons of high quality. My excitement grew when I saw an unusual   piece with Iranian script “God is great” written on it. It is of 18th century origin, and was exported by China to the Middle East market. After several cups of fine Chinese tea, I bought all the spoons at reasonable prices. I returned to the shop in subsequent years but they had no more spoons in stock. In Palm Springs, I bought one of the finest pieces in my collection at a surprisingly cheap price. I guess the shopkeeper had hardly any knowledge of Chinese ceramics and the odd spoon was incidental to his trade. My most successful spoon buying trips were, understandably, in China, Macao and Hong Kong. I remember vividly roaming the antique markets in Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, Chengdu and Kunming searching for the seemingly elusive spoons. My enthusiasm and efforts were not in vain. I came away with no less than sixty pieces of spoons that I liked, and a number of these were probably made for the imperial court officials and the rich merchants. Across the border in Macao and Hong Kong, I managed, over the years, to add more pieces to my spoon collection. The small antique shops in Hong Kong’s Hollywood Rd and its vicinity had always excited me with their spoon collections as they had regular customers looking for them. In a family run shop there, I bought a set of eight exquisitely crafted and thinly potted blue and white spoons, of 18th century provenance, which I paid a high but not excessive price for them. As if to allay my doubt of its intrinsic value, the kindly looking lady unhesitatingly gave me a written certificate of authenticity and assured me that I could at any time after one year resell them back to her at no less than ten per cent profit should I decide to do so. They are easily the best pieces in my entire spoon collection and they deservedly occupy a central place in my display cabinets.

In the course of three decades, I had left my footprints in three continents in hot pursuit of the common Chinese ceramic spoons and these experiences have greatly enriched my life. More importantly, they have given me countless hours of  delightful pleasure and will continue to do so in the years to come. When I first started collecting them there were very few spoon collectors in Singapore. Three decades later, as far as I know, the number has swelled and is still growing. After years of collecting them, I now have about 600 pieces of spoons, of various categories, colours, shapes, sizes, motifs and differing qualities. The marvel is that all have a theme or story to tell within such a tiny space. As I  have said earlier, these spoons, crafted and individually painted by human hands, have a beauty which is more than skin deep. They were produced by master craftsmen at a time when there was hardly any time pressure to meet commercial demands. It was also a labour of pride and love for them. It is a miracle that, despite their constant usage over such a prolonged period of time, these fragile dining tools have managed to survive in good condition, save for some wear and tear, to be admired and deeply valued by keen collectors of spoons everywhere. Hurray and long live the Chinese spoons!

Lam Pin Foo

The Danube is Far From Blue!

My wife and I had always been fascinated by the turbulent history and varied cultures of Eastern European countries which had finally freed themselves in 1989 from the tight control of the once mighty Soviet Union. In the past two decades countries like Poland, Hungary, Slovakia and the Czech Republic had achieved commendable economic advancement, and their myriad tourist attractions and richly endowed scenic charms are again drawing an ever increasing number of visitors from worldwide. Our desire to visit some of them finally materialised in May this year when we, together with a  group of like-minded friends, embarked upon a 19-day journey there. Our itinerary first took us to Poland and Hungary,  followed by a delightful eight-day cruise down the legendary Danube river, which took us from Hungary’s capital Budapest to Slovakia, Austria and Germany and finally by coach to Prague, the enchanting capital of the Czech Republic. Our trip was personally and efficiently planned and organised by Ms Helena Ow, a general manager of Singapore’s Prime Travel and Cruise, who came with us to Poland and Hungary and then bid us bon voyage when we boarded the brand-new elegant Italian river ship, Amalyra, to begin our Danube adventure.

I will now share with you many of the highlights and my impressions of this our once in a life time memorable holiday and cruise to some of the celebrated towns and cities in Europe. Our first stop was Warsaw, the ancient capital of Poland, the largest country in Eastern Europe whose stable economy has withstood the current world financial crisis. But Its history was a tortuous one. It was time and again invaded by its more powerful neighbours and had its lands partitioned off by them. During and after World War II, it was occupied by both Nazi Germany and later became a client state of the communist Soviet Union. Warsaw was devastated during the last war and most of its historic, cultural and other prominent landmarks destroyed by the German victors. More than six millions Jews in Poland and in other occupied European countries were senselessly massacred by the Nazis in carrying out Hitler’s plan to exterminate the hated Jews from the face of the continent. It was a sombre and poignant moment when our group stood before the war memorial at the former Jewish Ghetto here to commemorate these Polish Jewish victims. Before WWII, almost one-third of the country’s population was Jewish and today only a small fraction are still here. In 1970, the then German Chancellor, Willy Brandt, travelled to Warsaw on a state visit and courageously knelt in front of this memorial to atone the dark deeds of the Nazis to Jews in Poland and Europe. His moving silent gesture had greater impact than spoken words would have  adequately conveyed. This brought the ugliest chapter in the unedifying German history to a close.

Warsaw’s once grand Old Town is a must-see for all visitors. The sprawling area, with its majestic royal palace, many old churches and cathedral, museums, historic and other  significant edifices are the main tourist attractions best seen on foot. Walking leisurely along its main streets and alley ways and taking in their ancient past,  it’s not easy to realize that the entire area was bombed in WWII and were entirely rebuilt not too long ago, based strictly upon the original architectural model of the prototype. The royal palace, with its splendid collection of European paintings, tapestries and other works of art adorning the superbly furnished sumptuous stately rooms and royal chambers were a feast on our senses. The guide told us that many of the rare art objects on display were hidden from the Nazis at the nick of time, otherwise they would have been plundered by them as war booties and removed to Germany.

The truly magnificent  medieval city of Krakow, less than two hours drive from the capital, was the main reason tourists worldwide flock to Poland. Fortunately for posterity, this world-renowned pride of Poland and its numerous historic buildings have largely survived the war unscathed. The Market Square is the oldest in Europe and has a multitude of fascinating side streets and alley ways that would conveniently lead you to the rest of the old quarter. It is quite an awesome sight to behold and has never failed to captivate all visitors. Most of  these ancient buildings are still in good condition and they date back to the European Renaissance era, and some even preceding it. One can easily spend days exploring this city without feeling bored. Many tourists in fact delight in doing just that. A short walk from the Market Square on well-laid cobbled streets brought us to one of the oldest streets in Krakow, with the beautiful church of St Andrew (1086) still in a pristine state of preservation. It was the only structure that had escaped destruction by the Tartar invaders from Asia in 1241. Those farsighted enough to take refuge in the church were spared by these ferocious warriors, while other hapless town folks were being mercilessly slaughtered. Close by this church is the Episcopal Palace where Cardinal Karol Wojtyla resided before becoming Pope John Paul II in 1978. A benign life-size wax figure of him stands prominently behind a large window, bestowing a gesture of  blessings to passersby below. The late Pope is the most revered son of Poland, and Krakow’s international Airport is named in his honour.

Few visitors to Krakow would forego the opportunity to visit Auschwitz, the most deadly and infamous German concentration camp complex in Europe, although some might find it too morbid an experience. We were glad that our group went there and learned a valuable first-hand lesson in history. Shortly after the Nazis conquered Poland, close to 1.5 million Jews from Poland and elsewhere, including men, women, children, the old and the infirm, were sent there under the false pretext that from this camp they would later be resettled elsewhere for their own safety and well-being. They believed the German propaganda and brought along with them their portable household items, personal belongings and valuables which they would need in their new homes. Tragically, practically all the inmates at Auschwitz would be gassed, tortured  or laboured to death, with only a few exceptionally lucky ones who were able to make good their escapes in this heavily guarded camp to tell the outside world the horrendous crimes against humanity committed by the Nazi regime. The well-conducted comprehensive tour of the select components of this vast camp took us to the macabre gas chambers, the hopelessly over crowded living quarters of the inmates, the different categories of cells and torture chambers for those who violated the strict camp rules or were found to be rebellious, including the most feared Death Block. The tour was supported by a variety of photographic and actual exhibits of  the remnants of  the inmates’ personal belongings and other personal effects found on site after the war ended in Europe. The two-hour tour was presented in a factual and unemotional way by the professionally trained guide, who preferred to let the camp conditions before us and the exhibits we saw speak for themselves on man’s inhumanities inflicted on his fellow men. I came away with a heavy heart and it is my fervent hope that such crimes against mankind must never be permitted to happen again in future in any part of the world.

After our most enjoyable five-day stay in Poland, our group travelled by coach for a six-hour journey to Budapest, the cosmopolitan and vibrant capital of Hungary. The roads at many stretches were winding as we passed through the mountainous terrains but we felt relaxed soaking in the predominantly pine-clad pastoral scenery and enjoying each other’s fellowship. Our three-day stay here was also a satisfying one. There were much more foreign visitors here than in Poland, and the city was more tourist-oriented than the more sedate Warsaw, but substantially more expensive than the latter city.  Good food, more international class and budget accommodations and trendy shops and places of entertainment after dark abound and draw both domestic and foreign tourists here. However, compared with the better preserved medieval Krakow, there is a lack of truly ancient monuments and buildings in Budapest for the more culture attuned visitors to savour.  Most of the historic landmarks are located in the Castle District and the Old Town. The most visited places are the Buda Palace, which has a commanding view of the twin cities of Buda and Pest, the 15th century Matthias Church and the imposing St Stephen’s Basilica of the Renaissance era. Three of the nation’s most important museums are located within the cavernous precincts of the Buda Palace. All these three much visited landmarks had been rebuilt during the more recent centuries as the original structures had been largely destroyed by wars and ravages of nature.

Our first sight of the Danube was in Budapest, which was right in front of our hotel. Contrary to its legend, the water was far from blue and resembled the muddy colour of the Singapore river before it was successfully dredged clean by the public works water engineers who took up the challenge of the nation’s then premier, Mr Lee Kuan Yew, to achieve this engineering feat. What then inspired Austria’s world-renowned composer, Johann Strauss, to compose his immortal romantic piece, the Blue Danube, in the 19th century? According to our tour guide, when the redoubtable Napoleon Bonaparte’s navy sailed down the Danube after conquering Austria, their sailors’ sea-blue uniforms as reflected in the water transformed the murky water into a bluish hue, and hence the romantic legend of the Blue Danube was born and passed down to posterity through the musical genius of Johann Strauss!

We started our Danube cruise in Budapest. The ship can carry a maximum of 148 passengers in three classes of comfortable cabins, and most come with a French balcony so that one can truly appreciate the scenic views of the different segments of the Danube. Free Internet access is provided in every cabin. The carefully drawn up itinerary would give us an opportunity to see some of the celebrated historic villages, towns and cities along the routes. The passengers came from various English-speaking countries, especially United States, Canada and Australia. The Singapore and Hong Kong groups were the only Asians onboard. Our fellow passengers are in the 50′s to 70′s age group, well travelled, friendly and easy to communicate with. It was a good thing that the ship’s fare includes all onshore sightseeing. What was the shipboard life like? The captain and his officers, staff and crew were warm, welcoming, efficient and looked after the passengers’ needs excellently. The amenities were more than adequate for such a small ship, with a spacious and well appointed lounge and a more private reading room, a sun deck with a whirlpool, deck chairs, a tiny exercise room and a beauty shop. The food and refreshments were good, but fell short of fine-dinning standard on land. Unlimited complimentary red and white wines came with the dinner.  Fresh fruits were provided throughout the day and evening. On the flip side, all passengers would dine at the same time in the relatively small dinning room. Over crowding was inevitable and caused inconvenience if your table was back to back with another table or if  you were squeezed into an awkward corner table. This also impeded the movements of the serving staff and lengthens the time lapse in between dishes. The solution probably lies in having flexible dinning times, but this may require more staff and the increased cost may be passed on to the passengers. In the afternoon, an in-house pianist would entertain us with popular and light classical pieces. On most evenings when in port,  competent shore artistes would entertain us with musical performances of  good standard, or a guest speaker would give an interesting and informative talk on the history and culture of that country.

After less than a day’s sailing, we disembarked at Bratislava in Slovakia, our first port of call. This nation’s economy has been booming, due largely to the substantial foreign investments pouring in to take advantage of the cheap labour and operating costs here. It has now become one of the biggest producers of cars in Europe, a commendable achievement. It also has a well preserved and lively old town whose major sights include the charming Old Town Hall, the attractive 13th century Mirbach Palace, with breathtaking views of Slovakia and neighbouring Austria and Hungary and a stately opera house. We enjoyed the walking tour of its charming old town areas.

The next stop Vienna was one of the high points of this cruise. It is one of the most elegant, glamorous and civilised ancient capitals in Europe and lives up to its reputation. Its historic buildings and monuments are in abundance and impossible to savour in a short time. Within the time constraint of a day, we were able to savour the awe-inspiring Schonbrunn Palace, the most beautiful and extravagant in Vienna and one of the most famous in Europe. It was the summer palace of the Habsburgs who had reigned over most of this continent for more than six centuries. Its superb art treasures would wow even the most discerning visitors. The grand National Library, which was previously the private domain of the Habsburg family, is an important attraction, and so is the stupendous St Stephen’s Cathedral, which is the premier church in this city. Not to see another world-renowned landmark, the Vienna Opera House, will be a regret for life in this city of the arts and music and the land of Mozart and Strauss. We spent the rest of the time available simply strolling through the major shopping and entertainment districts, soaking in the romantic Baroque atmosphere of this stunningly beautiful city and relishing its famed pastry until its time to return to the ship.

Early the next morning, the river scenery suddenly changed drastically, from the mundane and repetitive wooded pine trees  to a much more picturesque and tranquil landscape as our ship was approaching the picture postcard-like charming Austrian town of Durnstein. Clearly visible on a hilltop stood the ruined castle where King Richard the Lion heart of England was held for ransom in 1192, and a little further on several ancient churches and other architecturally striking buildings came into view on the hill slopes. The walking tour of this historic town ensued, and we were most impressed by the many 16th century town houses, inns, wine taverns and quality souvenir shops that lined the main streets of this well-known town. Many tourists of different nationalities  were there that morning. We sailed again and disembarked in Melk, the last Austrian town before we entered the first German romantic town of Passau the next morning. The highlight in Melk was a conducted tour of the magnificent Benedictine Abbey. There was much to see and explore here, from the valuable art treasures and antiquated artifacts to the well presented exhibits in the abbey’s museum showcasing the history and life of the monks through the centuries. It was a very informative and spiritual experience.

The scenic charm of the Danube continued all the way into Passau. Most of  the passengers preferred to take a whole day optional tour to Salzburg, the birth place of Mozart, but we chose to explore the ancient atmosphere of Passau. It was a joy to view the numerous old buildings, churches, inns, beer houses and interesting arts and crafts shops that dotted this dreamy town’s old quarter. It is also famed for its beer, which is reputed to be the cheapest in Germany. However, the crown jewel of one of the best preserved German medieval cities, Regensburg, a World Heritage site, awaited to enchant us with its magnetic attractions. What a delightful experience and aesthetic assault on our senses the two-hour long walking tour of this sprawling ancient wonder turned out to be. Mercifully and thankfully, its sparkling Old Town was spared by the allied bombing during WWII. I had never seen so many splendid ancient edifices in one place as in this city, and I felt as if I had been transported back in time to the Renaissance era of Europe when Regensburg was at the peak of its glory due to its economic and political superiority over other comparable German cities. We marvelled at the majestically beautiful architectures of its cathedrals and churches, the grand Old Town Hall and other civic buildings, the grandeur of the palaces, the sumptuous homes of the rich and powerful and the elegant centuries old shops and art galleries that have all conspired to awe and delight even the most fussy of visitors. Not satisfied with what we had seen during our afternoon walking tour, after dinner we walked back to the Old Town again to savour some of the landmarks that we had to forego earlier.

Our memorable cruise reached its final lap when we crossed the Continental Divide, with an elevation of more than 1300 ft, as we entered the Rhine-Main-Danube Canal and steamed ahead to the final port of call, the industrial city of Nuremberg. We went on a half day sightseeing tour of its major sights. To me and many others, it was a let down especially when the earlier places that we had visited were so much more exciting and unforgettable. Most of the ancient landmarks, including the old city, were destroyed by the allied planes in the last war and were subsequently reconstructed. The city became famous because it was in a huge stadium here that Hitler held many of his rabble-rousing political rallies. It was also here that some of the principal Nazi war criminals were tried and convicted by the International War Crimes Tribunal in 1946. Unfortunately for us we did not get to see the interior of either of these landmarks as they were closed for visitors because the stadium was reserved exclusively for a jazz festival and the court house was closed for the weekend.

From Nuremberg we journeyed by road to Prague, arriving in the late afternoon. The disappointment of Nuremberg was more than made up by our glorious three-day stay in the capital of the Czech Republic, the industrial heartland of Eastern Europe. What an appropriately fitting finale it was. The city is commonly referred to as the Paris of the East because it is the most glamorous and vibrant metropolis in this part of Europe. In terms of the bountiful harvest of historical structures, other legacies of the past and cultural attractions it is in the same league as Krakow and Regensburg, and even exceeding them in sheer numbers and varieties because it is a much larger city. Besides these, it also has numerous international and budget hotels, excellent restaurants and entertainment outlets and specialty shops and malls to cater to the whims and fancies of visitors and tourists from all over the world. It is therefore hardly surprising that it is the foremost tourist destination in Eastern Europe. To get the most out of our sightseeing, we had to be selective in our choices that best suited our preferences and limited time. We therefore opted to go mainly for the historical and cultural relics of this exciting city.

Our first stop was the most popular Castle District, whose top draw is the famed Prague Castle, the largest ancient castle in the world and dating back to the 10th century. Within its gigantic precincts, which includes the palaces of the successive Czech kings and their families, churches and chapels, the most dominant is the St Vitus Cathedral, and a museum with a large collection of  valuable old European paintings and sculptures. Some of the former royal residential quarters had been converted for state purposes. The seat of the Czech government is in this castle, and the office and official residence of the president is also here. Some of the state rooms are open to the public on special occasions. To take an in depth look of the castle, including the museum, will take at least half a day. Our second destination, the Old Town area, is the third most visited tourist spot. Just like the old towns in Krakow and Regensburg but bigger in area, the Prague Old Town too has many ubiquitous churches and cathedrals,  an old town hall and various other municipal buildings, old town houses, inns and taverns, museums, theatres as well as an  assortment of shops, restaurants and entertainment outlets to cater to the growing needs of tourists and residents. We spent a good part of a morning taking in the sights, and discovering its numerous side streets and alleys in order to get a better feel of  this ancient heartland of the city. A short walk from the centre of the Old Town is the Jewish Quarter, which has several medieval synagogues as a testimony to the large and prosperous Jewish population that was once an integral part of the country. Sadly, the majority had been murdered by Hitler’s men, just like in Poland. Most of those who survived the war had long ago emigrated to Israel and America. Today less than 10,000 of them have continued to live here. We gained an insight into Judaism by visiting the Old-New Synagogue (1270). It is the oldest still active Jewish synagogue in Europe and it is housed in one of Prague’s oldest Gothic buildings. We also visited the Old Jewish Cemetery (1478), the oldest extant such cemetery in this continent. Some 100,000 Jewish people are believed to be buried here. The final stop of our exploration of Prague was the Charles Bridge and its historic vicinity, which makes it the number two most visited tourist destination. It spans over the very busy Vitava river, which is easily the most ornate and impressive of bridges in Prague. Built between the 14th and 15th centuries, it has 16 stone pillars and is lined with statues and lamps, supported by a Gothic watch tower at each end of the bridge. The surrounding scenery from the bridge is truly breathtaking, especially when viewed at night. it is an ideal place to take a leisurely evening stroll after a satisfying meal in one of the cafes or taverns with a good view of the river and this famous bridge.

To round up our short but excitement filled stay in Prague, several friends joined my wife and I for an enjoyable Czech dinner in a restaurant at a quieter end of the busy Old Town square. We did our fair share of people-watching here. All of us unanimously settled for a representative dish of the nation’s renowned pig’s leg. We had to wait  for close to an hour for it to be slowly roasted over a charcoal fire. When the four king-size pig’s legs were eventually placed in front of us, complete with toasted bread dumplings and pickled side dishes, each couple could not manage to consume their entire delicious pig’s leg of plentiful lean meat and crackling skin, even though we were famished by then. It can in fact easily feed three adults adequately!

Having seen most parts of  continental Europe over a period of  about 50 years, my wife and I hope to see the vast land of Russia in the not too distant future.

Epiphanies on Interstate-80

An article by guest writer Maynard Chen. Refer to “About the Writer” at the end of the post.

February 2nd 2003, San Francisco, California

I started the engine, drove out of my loft in San Francisco and headed towards the Bay Bridge. Light mist enshrouded the bridge as I drove across. My thoughts were a mist of anticipation and apprehension. This was the first time I was driving across the North American continent.

The Tech Stock bubble had burst and Dot-com had morphed into Dot-bomb. Gone were the heady days of lucrative contracts in the technology job market that came with fancy take-out lunches from gourmet restaurants, and free massages to tempt us back into the office on weekends. Goodbye Tech Bubble.

Then 9-11 happened and in the aftermath, the Fed started pushing down interest rates to cushion the stock market crash. It was a time when one could refinance a housing loan without any closing costs to freeze interest rates for 30 years. Six months later one could do it again and ratchet down to lock in at an even lower rate. Housing prices began to soar. The banks made it so easy to take out home equity loans on the rising property values that people began to treat their homes as self replenishing ATM machines. Hello Housing Bubble.

As the owner of both a condo in Cambridge and a loft in San Francisco, I became worried when the housing market got so hot, that rentals started to drop even as housing prices were rising. This paradox came about because many would-be renters, able to qualify for easy financing, had decided to purchase rather than rent. I decided it was time to sell at least one of my properties. Since I had bought the Cambridge townhouse in 1981 it had made substantial capital gains. In order to lessen my tax burden, I had to move to Cambridge and live there for two years in order to qualify for the home owner’s deduction on Capital Gains Tax.

So it came to pass on that cold and wintry day, with my Toyota Camry packed to the gills with my computers and clothes and other worldly possessions, I was driving across the Bay Bridge embarking on a 3000 mile trans-continental journey from San Francisco to Boston. Even my front seat was completely filled with barang-barang, ruling out a tentative idea of taking a friend along to relieve the boredom of driving.

I considered two alternative ways to cross the USA. The southern route was longer but more sensible in winter because there was less likelihood of disruption by snow. I chose however the northern route because of the shorter distance and to avoid having to drive through regions that were reputed to be less friendly to people of color. A friend who was a member of AAA kindly obtained for me free maps for the entire trip. It was going to be essentially driving along Interstate 80 all the way. Security was also a major consideration since I could not hide any of the stuff in my car and I thought that it might be wiser to drive where climate would force most people to be indoors.

Besides the weather and security, my other concern for this trip was boredom, especially since I tend to suffer from highway hypnosis. I resolved to always pull over and take a nap whenever I felt drowsy. A friend made the brilliant suggestion of audio-books. So I assembled an eclectic stack of tapes borrowed from SF library and friends. Along the way I also planned to visit a few friends.

Berkeley was for me at the northern fringe of familiarity in the Bay Area, since I seldom visit Vallejo or the towns beyond. Towards evening I arrived in Sacramento where I spent the night in the apartment of an ex-colleague from Cambridge.

February 3rd 2003, On the road to Wendover, Utah

After Sacramento I began the ascent into the Sierras. This was where one was most likely to encounter snow. I began to listen to Red Azaleas by Anchee Min. It was a poignant semi-autobiographical story of her growing up in China during the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution. As I drove past Emigrant Gap and Donner Summit(7239 ft) I thought of the early settlers who had passed along the route. The nearby pass is where the Donner party were stuck in the winter of 1846. Of the 81 emigrants, only 45 survived to reach California and some resorted to cannibalism. There couldn’t be anything more disparate and disconnected between the two chains of thought alternating in my mind: Anchee Min’s story of interpersonal struggles as a budding actress in China and the trials and tribulations of the early immigrants pitted against the weather while moving west to California.

Fortunately for me the weather held up, only a light dusting of snow. I turned on the windshield wipers to clear the snow, but something weird was happening. The more I sprayed fluid the dirtier it got! Upon closer examination I realized that the “dirt” was nothing more than the windshield cleaning fluid freezing and turning into slush. I had forgotten that my sunny California windshield wiper fluid did not contain anti-freeze. A new bottle of wiper fluid fixed the problem.

After driving over the Sierras, I crossed my first state border into Nevada – the casino state. The border was quite obvious because of the plethora of gigantic neons inviting you to try your luck and make(or more likely lose) your fortune. It was quite clear they were there to suck money out of California. Despite the glittering neons I did not stop except for gas, food and toilet breaks.

As I approached Wendover on the border with Utah, it was getting dark and I had resolved earlier to stop whenever it got dark so as to avoid getting into a situation where I might be stranded on the freeway at night. If I had engine problems, it would be bitterly cold, and if I was caught in a snowstorm I would not dare to leave the engine running anyway. In the Massachusetts blizzard of ’78, some people who were stranded on the freeway and left their engines on to keep the car warm, died of carbon monoxide poisoning because snow drifts blocked their exhaust vents.

On a lesser scale, at the border with Utah there were neon signs again attempting to suck money from the residents of Utah. I checked into a Motel 6 in Wendover. This is a great chain. The rooms are clean and comfortable, and the prices very reasonable. One advantage of the presence of a gaming industry for non-gamblers like me is the low price of accommodations and meals. I suspect they can afford to subsidize them so as to lure the crowds to the gaming tables.

February 4th 2003, On the road to Laramie, Wyoming

The next morning I passed by Salt Lake City and the Great Salt Lake. One really gets a sense of the size of the North American continent as the flat landscape affords a view that stretches from horizon to horizon.

Soon I crossed another state line. While driving through the bright snowy fields of Wyoming, I started to listen to “Interview with a Vampire”. There could not have been a more striking contrast between the sunny and open cowboy countryside I was passing through and the dark dank claustrophobic atmosphere of New Orleans as described in this novel. Lestat who was an immortal vampire was lonely, so he turned Louis into a vampire for companionship. Louis was a reluctant vampire who found it morally repulsive to kill humans for their blood, so he had to feed on the blood of animals in order to survive. Lestat however had no qualms about feeding upon the slaves in Louis’s plantation in Louisiana. Gradually Louis was persuaded by Lestat to feed on human blood.

I was very glad to pass the time with this tale of moral angst amongst vampires because otherwise the trip would have been numbingly boring. A three thousand mile journey is little more than endless cycles of the buildup and alleviation of biological and mechanical needs:

Begin Loop
If hungry, thirsty or in need of a toilet, then look for a rest stop
If the gas indicator is down to two thirds empty, then scan signs for cheap gas and fill up
Return to the beginning of this loop and repeat infinitely

Lestat fearing that Louis might leave him, turns a young girl into a vampire so as to give Louis a daughter – someone to care for. This leads to treachery as the vampire girl plots with Louis to murder Lestat and then flee to Europe. The novel was diverting without being the least bit scary and it made the day pass quickly. However as evening approached and the bright sunny landscape darkened into twilight, I found that the dark story became more powerful and affecting. At the same time, the gas tank was getting low and soon I would have to find the next Motel 6. As I was scanning for cheap gas, it gradually dawned upon me that gasoline to me was like blood to Louis. I could now understand at a visceral level the rising lust that vampires feel when the strength they derive from fresh blood is slowly drained and a parching thirst for fresh blood develops. To complete the metaphor, I suppose my spending the night in Motel 6 was the equivalent of resting in a coffin during the day for vampires. I laughed aloud at discovering this inadvertent metaphor, because fortunately, I did not have to kill people to fill my tank.

Driving alone day after day with no human interaction except at the most superficial level, is I suppose a form of sensory deprivation, and it is known that extended deprivation can lead to bizarre thoughts, even hallucinations.

Between Rock Springs and Rawlins, I passed over the Continental Divide of the Americas. I stopped to take a photograph of the sign that marked the line. Behind me the rivers drained into the Pacific and before me the rivers flowed into the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico.

Finally I arrived in Laramie where I would spend the night in Motel 6 again. I used to watch a TV series called Laramie when I was in primary school. Never would I have dreamt then that decades later I would spend a night in this town.

February 5th 2003, On the road to Des Moines, Iowa

The next morning I turned on the car radio and there was Colin Powell giving a speech at the UN on Iraq, so I switched off my audiobooks. It was an impressive and convincing speech. He had intricately detailed information about Iraq’s manufacture of weapons of mass destruction. There were satellite photos of mobile biological weapons factories and taped conversations of people actively engaged in concealing WMD from the inspectors. The case for war was getting stronger.

Upon further reflection however, there was something that didn’t quite add up. He was trying to argue that the inspections were a failure because Saddam was successfully hiding his weapons of mass destruction from the inspectors, and he could prove that because he had detailed evidence of their existence and locations. However if the US did indeed have such prodigious and detailed intelligence about these weapons, why didn’t they pass it on to the inspectors so that they could catch Sadddam red-handed? The weapons could then be confiscated and destroyed and the inspections would be a success. Of course then there would be no rationale for an invasion to remove them. He was like the salesmen selling both invincible spears that could penetrate anything, and impenetrable shields.

Just a week before this trip, I had read an essay by Peter Lee in the Smirking Chimp website*, in which he wonderfully captured the essence of the Iraq situation in a single sentence.

“Today the new orthodoxy of war and pre-emption and empire is slouching towards Baghdad waiting to be born.”

In the late afternoon while heading towards Des Moines, I was again anxiously scouting for gas to slake the recurring thirst of my Toyota Camry. I suddenly realized that even though I personally didn’t have to kill anyone for gas, the country was preparing for war, to slake the collective thirst of millions of automobiles like mine.

February 6th 2003, On the road to Ann Arbor, Michigan

While I was hurtling along Interstate 80 towards Ann Arbor, Michigan. I heard an unfamiliar noise. I glanced up and saw V shaped lines slowly traversing the grey and overcast skies. It was a flock of honking geese on their annual migration to warmer climes. I felt a certain affinity for them. Fearing the impending chill of an economic winter, I too was migrating. We were each coasting on individual trajectories towards private destinies…. just as this great nation that I was traversing was slouching towards Baghdad.

Epilogue

I finally reached Boston safely after two detours to visit old schoolmates in Ann Arbor and Toronto. Buoyed by ever more creative financing, the housing market continued to rise during the two years I lived in my Cambridge townhouse, allowing me to sell at a good price and avoid paying a lot of capital gains tax. Then the bubble finally burst. My timing was sheer luck because I thought the housing market was going to crash much sooner, but then I did not anticipate the creativity of the mortgage industry inventing balloon loans, no doc mortgages and liar loans.

Peter Lee’s prophecy came to pass. The unborn beast reached Baghdad when US troops moved into Iraq on March 20th 2003 to hunt for WMD. Two years later the CIA admitted in a final report that no WMD were found in Iraq. Powell told Walters that he felt “terrible” about the claims made in his UN speech. When asked whether it would tarnish his reputation he replied: “Of course it will. It’s a blot. I’m the one who presented it on behalf of the United States to the world, and [it] will always be a part of my record. It was painful. It’s painful now.”

* The essay by Peter Lee is entitled “A few good men … and Condi too” by Peter Lee. Posted on January 23rd 2003 in The Smirking Chimp website. It is no longer available for download, but I saved a copy.

About the Writer

Maynard Chen was a software consultant working in Silicon Valley from 1997 to 2003. He has now relocated to Singapore. © Maynard Chen, All rights reserved 2009.

Singapore’s Open-air Museum of Historical and Cultural Heritage

An article by Lam Pin Foo. Refer to the About page.

Spreading over 18 hectares of prime land in Singapore’s city centre is the sprawling Fort Canning Park, which is named after a British viceroy of India after the founding of modern Singapore in 1819 by Stamford Raffles of British East India Company. It later was converted into a British crown colony.

This scenic and undulating stroll park, whose summit is 60 meters above sea level, is an open-air museum of Singapore’s historical and cultural heritage dating back to the 14th century when it was the governmental and trading hub of the ancient Malay sultanate established by a Sumatran prince who named it Temasek. Remnants of brick foundations of buildings were still visible on the hill after Raffles had some of the surrounding jungle cleared. Unfortunately, these remnants were later demolished by the colonial regime to make way for developments on the hill, which was renamed Fort Canning Hill. Its original name was Bukit Larangan (Forbidden Hill) as the common folks were denied access to it because it housed the royal palace and government facilities. The hilltop has a commanding vista of parts of the the city centre and a good view of the Singapore River.

Regrettably this historical landmark has been largely under-explored by both foreign and domestic tourists, despite its variety of interesting sights and other attractions. Most overseas visitors, who are in Singapore for only a few days, will be more interested in visiting Sentosa, Bird Park, Night Safari, Zoological Gardens, Botanic Gardens and the fabulous and exotic shopping in Orchard Road, Little India, Chinatown and Arab Street. These are commonly accepted as must-see places when in Singapore. Many Singaporeans, too, are not very familiar with this rare gem in their midst and some are simply indifferent to its ancient past.

Before writing this article, I made three separate visits to Fort Canning Park at different times: in the morning, during lunch time and in the early evening. I came upon only a couple of foreign tourists, a small group of school children on a school outing and some office workers eating their box lunch under shady trees. I asked more than a dozen Singaporean friends about the historical relics on this hill, and quite a few had yet to make a trip up there.

There are several entrances to this park: from Canning Rise, Tank Road, River Valley Road and Hill Street. Armed with a comprehensive direction map provided by the park’s information kiosk, a visitor should find it easy to navigate the park in any way his or her interests dictate. For those who are more history or culture inclined, it would give you a better historical perspective to begin your discovery tour of the park with the 14th century History Walk. A series of eye-level concisely-written plagues will tell you the early Singapore history and legends and the significance of Fort Canning Hill and its subsequent development.

As I am interested in history, I would first head for the Archaeological Excavation Site where thousands of artifacts, including whole and broken ceramic pieces, finely fashioned gold and glass ornaments and gold and other minted coins, were dug up in the 1980s. Some of these are from the 14th century, which lends credence to the existence of the flourishing Temasek kingdom. Some historians believe that these gold and glass ornaments came from the various palace workshops on site and they were crafted by highly skilled artisans. An assortment of fragments of these relics are permanently displayed at the site and the more valuable articles are in showcases at the Fort Canning Centre.

In the vicinity of the archaeological trenches is an old tomb called Keramat (Sacred Place) believed to be the burial place of Iskandar Shah, the last of the five rulers of Temasek. However, some scholars have cast doubts on this claim as he was said to have fled to neighbouring Malaya after the fall of his sultanate to foreign invaders and died there. Be that as it may, it is an important and dignified monument fit for a royal personage and well protected by a 14th century-style Malay roof which is supported by 20 elegantly carved wooden pillars of superb workmanship whose motifs are of Javanese provenance.

At the top of the hill is the site of a colonial-style bungalow specially built for Raffles and his family to reside in when he came to Singapore in 1823 for his third and final stay prior to his retirement in England. It stood at a spot which afforded him the best view of the growing township below and the waterfront with international trading ships from Asia, Europe and United States calling at this fledgling but thriving free port which was his brainchild. He and his wife would often spend quality times together at the Raffles Terrace enjoying their English afternoon tea leisurely or watching the beautiful tropical sunset with gin and tonic in their hands.

After Raffles left Singapore, a succession of colonial governors also lived on the hill until 1860 when a pompous incumbent built himself a palatial new home with extensive grounds close to Orchard Road. It is now the official residence of the President of Singapore.

Fort Canning Hill was often depicted in old paintings of Singapore because of its scenic beauty and its sweeping view of the town’s significant landmarks. Some of these can be seen at the Singapore History Museum at the foot of the park. I particularly enjoy gazing at an oil painting of a governor’s garden party at his hill residence, with guests of different races in their resplendent national attires enjoying themselves on the well-manicured rolling lawns with the prospering township in the background.

For the defence of Singapore against possible sea-borne attacks, Fort Canning Hill was converted into a military fortress in 1861 with barracks and other buildings to house the military personnel. It also provided a safe refuge for the local European population in case of riots and other disturbances. Today, a 19th century Fort Gate, and what remains of the fortress, including several old cannons, are still there for all to see. A grand administrative building, which has been converted into the present multi-purpose Fort Canning Centre, was the headquarters of the British Far East command and the office of the commanding officer, Lt-General Percival, before Singapore fell to the Japanese in 1942.

Another of the hill’s historical significance is that a portion of it was set aside as Singapore’s first experimental botanic garden spearheaded by none other than Raffles himself, who was a noted self-taught botanist. He planted food plants like nutmeg, clove, ginger, lemongrass and chillies which later were planted all over the island and became an important contributor to the early Singapore economy. Most of these botanic species are still thriving at the popular Spice Garden in the park.

The governor’s hill bungalows had long been demolished. The famed Raffles Terrace, on whose spacious front lawns many a garden party was held, is gone too. Gone also are the original lighthouse to guide ships in and out of the colony together with the flagstaff on which the Union Jack had proudly flown in front of the governor’s residence. However, a new Raffles Terrace has been constructed and now houses the replicas of three important icons of the past, namely the Lighthouse, Flagstaff and the Time Ball, to remind the park’s visitors of Singapore’s colonial heritage.

Before leaving the historic legacies, there is one last but not the least of the historical sites that visitors must cover before they continue to proceed with their tour of other attractions as well as to savour the park’s scenic charm in order to complete their memorable trip out there.

This is Singapore’s first Christian Cemetery sited at the foot of the park. There are two imposing 19th century Gothic-style entrance gates at either end of it. It was a burial ground from 1822 to 1865 for more than 600 early Singapore residents, two-thirds were British and other Westerners and the rest were mainly Chinese and other Asians. Many prominent colonial officials and community leaders were interred here. Most of these graves were dug up in 1970s as they were in very dilapidated conditions and the human remains removed elsewhere. However, a dozen well-preserved graves are still there at one corner of this former Christian Cemetery. Numerous tombstones have been inset into two brick walls on site as a reminder of its past usage. Many died young in those bygone days, often from fatal tropical deceases, One tombstone summed it up poignantly, ” … came to the East in search of adventure and fortune but instead he found death at a tender age.”

Two well-designed 19th century cupolas still stand at another corner of this former cemetery land. They were probably intended as resting places for visitors to admire the the beauty and tranquility of the park. This former burial ground has been transformed into the spacious Fort Canning Green, and nowadays regular open air musical and theatre performances are staged there by both local and foreign artistes which attract large crowds, right in front of the elegantly impressive Fort Canning Centre.

If a visitor is still energetic enough after all the walking, there are several other places that might be worth seeing. I would single out two of these for mention, Spice Garden and Battle Box.

The Spice Garden provides an interesting contrast to the more history oriented relics at the park. As in Raffles’ original botanic garden, at the Spice Garden one can also see a variety of herb and spice plants such as nutmeg, clove, ginger, chillies and lemongrass, all of these and others are often used in Singapore cuisine to enhance its taste. There are well-trained staff to guide visitors around and to give them a better insight into these food plants.

The Battle Box tells the story of the events leading to the fall of Singapore during WWII. The construction of this 9-meter deep underground bunker started in 1936 and was intended to serve as the “Nerve Centre” of the British army command in the event of war. It has a maize-like complex of 26 rooms, complete with life-like wax figures of British army personnel and their war efforts against the Japanese invaders. To introduce a touch of realism, while the running commentary is going on, the special sound effects enable the visitor to hear the bombing of Singapore outside the underground bunker. It was here that General Percival, British commander in Malaya and Singapore, and his senior officers took the momentous decision to surrender the colony to the Japanese Imperial Army on the fateful day of 15 February 1942. The British surrender was the biggest military defeat in the annals of the British army.

Within walking distance from Fort Canning Park, there are plenty of eating places to suit all budgets and several shopping malls. In addition, there are five museums, namely National History Museum, Peranakan Museum, Philatelic Museum, Singapore Art Museum and Asian Civilisations Museum and other historic and cultural sights for visitors to explore and to get to know Singapore better.

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