Now, where did I get to.
Passing Krakatoa I think.
But do you mind if I go back to Mombassa for a moment? These little odd recollections just pop into my head now and again.
How much do you pay for a titchy little bag of Cashew nuts? 90p?, £1? During one of my little forays I stopped the taxi and bought a bag of these things from a small child who was flogging them from the roadside. He wanted about 20p per bag.
You all have refrigerators ay home, so you (should) know the size of the big plastic bin that is supposed to hold salads etc? For 20p my “bag” when emptied into said “bin” held too many nuts…so I had to give about half away. Somebody is making a profit! This bag was more akin in size to a coal sack than the little bags we get here. So I gave the child probably a months pay (£2), and was rewarded with the most beautiful smile you can imagine.
But back to the real world as I knew it.
The original “plan” was for us to get into the vicinity of the Sunda Strait and the other ships would join us for a “line astern” passage. Didn’t happen. For some reason or another the ships in the Seychelles and Mauritious had been permitted to extend their visits. This left “Invincible” just meandering aimlessly around the South Indian ocean by herself….”Bayleaf” having departed for her normal “top-up” role in the Persian Gulf.
This “thing” showed all the signs of unravelling and we hadn’t got anywhere yet.
Even the Deity was concerned enough to send a signal asking if this was really a “Group Deployment”.
The Groups projected programme was to include visits to Singapore, Hong Kong, Tokyo and Pusan ( and some repeats on the way back).
Then the whole programme changed.
The first visit en-masse would go ahead, as would the first visit to Hong Kong. But then all the ships except “Fort Austin” would return to Singapore for a period of “self Maintenance” and R&R. “Fort Austin” would be required to stay at sea for the entire month (September ’92) …..for reasons we weren’t told about. The morale within the ship rose immeasurably as you can imagine. Eventually we found Singapore, basically in the same place it always had been, but we came in from a different direction. We came in alone. Some “Group”, eh? But we did have the pleasure of being alongside for once, and with no major work to be done apart from the usual day to day housekeeping most of us managed a few runs ashore.
I really love the meals you can get in Singapore from the various “stalls”. These stalls used to be just set up higgledy-piggedly along the roads, but now they’d been sort of corralled into “areas”. This was a “good move” as the diversity of food and the general congregation of customers from all walks of life just made the whole experience of eating more like being part of a real life stage show. Absolutely wonderful. Then on to Bougis Street? Or Raffles, perhaps? Or maybe even the Intercontinental Hotel where air-hostesses would slum during their “stop-overs”. The city was our oyster at night. In Singapore, if you behave yourself and don’t throw away a cigarette stub you can cut loose and enjoy yourself, and feel really safe wherever you wander. But in general we would just go out and eat well, meander around what old haunts were still left standing and just enjoy a few hours of freedom.
Shopping was another matter altogether. Buy whatever you want in Singapore, from a Concubine to a Cucumber (wrong alliteration?). A Tigers "xxxxx",sir? Certainly sir. Powdered Rhino horn? No problem. A Parrot or perhaps a caged Canary? A computer built to your specification? Have it by tomorrow, sir. Or would sir like a drink while you wait?
Singapore is a world away from what most of us would consider “normal”.
Forget the “Orchard Roads” shopping malls and their ilk, get into the back streets away from the tourist traps and an altogether different world awaits.
Wander down the banks of the “Sweet River” that more or less runs past the Merlion and under the marvellous chain bridge into the heart of old Singapore. The “Sweet River” was so named because it was once the smelliest places on earth. A bit like “Happy Valley” in Hong Kong, that was anything but “happy”). Forget about the modern high rise business district (that used to be the home of “change alley” and “Taxi-dance” girly bars). The old part still thrives. Street after short street, each street being dedicated to one product. One street making coffins, another all pet shops, yet another only selling “medicinal” stuff….with examples nailed to plywood board just to tempt you. A street of metal founders or another of silversmiths. The list is endless. And all these places of business seem to be run by little old Chinese men with bandy legs dressed in an off white vest, baggy black shorts and flip-flops. This is the true Orient.
Plus the evening descant of the Bull-frog chorus. And the insects that really should have had an air-worthiness certificate. Another world is out there if you take the time to discover it.