Modern City, Ancient Art

Discovering Dubai through its Arabic Calligraphy

By Gillian Gilbride

If a white board is the perfect canvas for a painting, then the desert may just be the perfect canvas for building a city.

Dubai, with it’s tallest tower, indoor ski-field and Palm island has certainly met that creative challenge.

Although outwardly modern in appearance, Dubai has strong traditional roots and a revered traditional art form – Arabic calligraphy. What place does this ancient craft have in Dubai’s modern city today?

Gillian Gilbride trails the calligrapher’s pen around Dubai to find out. 

Mohammed sits cross-legged. Poised in one hand is his reed pen dripping black ink. Pressed under his other hand is a camel-skin leather parchment. He wipes his brow, cautious that the sweat on his forehead does not stain the page before his pen does. His hand is steady though, sturdy with the knowledge of his masters. Years of practice culminates as the black ink pools at the tip of his pen. The proportion and line of the stroke must be exact, or else the parchment is ruined.

Who is this Mohammed? Is he real? And does he exist in Dubai?

Dubai is a city renowned for its skyscrapers and seven-star opulence. I’m curious to find out if, with all the glitz and glamour, there are still Emiratis delicately penning calligraphic scrolls in Dubai’s desert dunes.   

I begin my journey during the holy month of Ramadan, on a Friday, when a 40 degree heat is already fierce in the lunchtime sky. Google promises me traditional handicrafts, camels, Bedouin tents and art at Dubai’s Heritage Village. I head off to the Shindaga area and visit the open-air expanse where traditional Barasti style souqs (small shops) line a central courtyard arena of sand, hot sand.

I scour the arena simultaneously for signs of Islamic art and an air-conditioned powered Barasti hut. As I pass empty Bedouin tents, it dawns on me that Ramadan, the holy month of prayers and fasting - when much of the city is at rest during the day - is probably not the best month for my foray into Arabic calligraphy. 

Any culturally-inclined tourist, in addition to the Heritage Village, will undoubtedly seek out the Dubai Museum. The Dubai Museum sits along the Dubai Creek, the stretch of water separating ‘old’ and ‘new’ Dubai.  Much of the new development of Dubai has taken place on the Bur Dubai side of the creek, while Diera, the old trading hub, is still dense with older buildings and merchant souqs.

(The abra station on the Dubai Creek)

These creek waterways were an important thoroughfare for the trading dhows from India and, for a dirham, locals and tourists can ride the abra (a traditional wooden boat) across. Also bobbing by the creek side are the rickety dhows (the larger traditional wooden boats) flaunting garlands of drying clothes, and still trading today in the shadows of the city skyline. 

                                                                       (Traditional dhows on the creekside)

The old Al Fahidi Fort which houses the museum is small, but offers a good overview of traditional Bedouin life, the significance of camels, dates and pearls. Unfortunately though, there is little about calligraphy.

I’m beginning to wonder whether Mohammed and his scrolls are a mere mirage.

However, adjacent to the Museum, is an area known as the Bastikya and it is here I see some calligraphy script. In the alcoves and bedrooms of the traditional houses now sit curious courtyard cafes and quaint galleries. Early Persian influences helped shape Emirati architecture, and the Bastikya residential area, which inherits its name from the Bastak region in Iran, is an example of this. This area is an important historical quarter and during cooler months its tranquil tenor livens to a vibrant pitch with the hum of stalls, live music and outdoor painting sessions.

Meandering through the maze-like buildings, under wind towers and stooping through small doorways I pass the XVA and Majlis galleries which showcase both Arabic and Western pieces.

Arabic calligraphy spans from Turkey, to Muslim India, China and the Middle East, and its beginnings can be traced back as far as 4BC.  Kufic is the style that became widely popular and influenced arabesque design - decorating even the Alhambra Palace in Spain. Kufic script penned the first copies of the Quran and as many as 25 versions of the style are still used today.

The journey from the Bastikiya to the industrial area of Al Quoz is sprinkled with mosques. The nearly 200 minarets of the city stand tall and proud - sounding the call to prayer five times a day. Mosques are the obvious canvases of the Islamic calligraphic verse and examples can be seen at the Jumeriah Mosque - which is open to the non-Muslim public for guided tours.  

Part of the appeal of traditional Arabic calligraphy lies in its abstract aesthetics. The balance of composition and harmony of line can create an energy of triumph or tranquility.  

(Bastikiya Café & Restaurant)
 Surrounded by dusty warehouses and acting as an apparent meeting ground for buses and trucks, Al Quoz is an unlikely spot for the city’s art. But many of Dubai’s established and up-and-coming galleries are located here.

At the Third Line Gallery in Al Quoz, Golnaz Fathi unveils large canvases where bold strokes of black sweep across splashes of red, blue and yellow. The calligraphy swirls are defiantly illegible but distinctly Arabic. In this abstract abyss, even non-Arabs, can appreciate the balance, harmony and flow of this art form.

Across town, between the Burj Khalifa - the tallest tower in the world, and the iconic Emirates Towers, stands the Dubai International Financial Centre (DIFC).  The huge arch-like structure is a hub for Dubai’s financial elite and a hotspot for some of the city’s best art. Galleries here include the Opera Gallery, Artspace and the Farjam Collection at the DIFC.

The Farjam Collection claims to be one of the most impressive privately owned collections of Islamic art in the world today. Here, intricate Islamic miniatures are displayed along with large expressive works of Arabic script on mixed media. I’m thrilled to finally find such an extensive collection. Modern artists from the region like Moshiri and Ehsai feature in the collection, as do international masters like Picasso.

On Sunday and Monday mornings calligraphy enthusiasts can be found creating their own Islamic masterpieces at the Mall of the Emirates, and it is here at last that I find my modern calligrapher. My imaginary calligrapher Mohammed, hunched over ink-stained parchments turns out to be a charismatic young woman.  

(Modern Arabic calligraphy piece by Fatima Nadia Rehman)

Fatima Nadia Rehman is an artist, curator and teacher. Her 10 year study of calligraphy includes an apprenticeship to Ustad Ghauhar Qalam, who has work displayed at the British Museum, and the study of miniatures and Arabic calligraphy at the University of Philadelphia. She now teaches Arabic Calligraphy classes at the Dubai Community Theatre and Arts Centre.  

When Fatima first arrived in Dubai in 2007 there were no classes for Arabic calligraphy and she still sources her reed pens and books overseas. She even makes her own paper.

Traditionally Islamic art, with its aversion to human and animal representation, has been founded in the written word. But what of modern Arabic calligraphy? Are images permitted?

Fatima has used the human face in a calligraphy piece and although the response was good, she is careful not to push the boundaries too far. Her students typically stick to letters, poems, verses from the Quran, and occasionally incorporate some botany.

Fatima tells me that “it’s the thickness and the thinness of the line that give it the look.” Patience is a necessary virtue in this craft but Fatima says she can spot the ones with natural talent.

It seems fitting that just as Dubai is a multi-cultural microcosm of old and new, Fatima is a female calligrapher of Pakistani heritage and American education practicing centuries old methods, using traditional materials and passing down her knowledge to a mixed palette of Emirati, Japanese, and American students.

                                                                                                              

(Traditional Arabic calligraphy piece by Fatima Nadia Rehman)

Discovering Dubai’s Arabic calligraphy scene hasn’t been easy but, as they say, ‘the journey is half the fun’. 

While I don’t find the elusive Mohammed hunched over leather parchments with ink-stained finger tips, I discover something much better. I’ve visited places I wouldn’t have ventured to otherwise, I’ve gained an appreciation of an art form I knew nothing about and I’ve met a modern calligrapher helping the city embrace its ancient art.

Fact File

Where to stay

Try a night at the Orient Guest House in the historic Bastikya area.

It is pricey but worthwhile for those who want a traditional experience.

www.orientguesthouse.com

What to do

The Sheikh Mohammed Centre for Cultural Understanding offers guided tours of the Bastikya and mosque, and cultural talks over traditional Emirati food.

http://www.cultures.ae/

What to see

Take a guided bus tour around the city’s galleries. There are two routes – the Al Quoz route and the Bastikya route (Check the website for dates)

www.artinthecity.com

                                                                                                           

No Ordinary Walk in the Park

With the hum of vuvezela’s long gone and the football-mad foreigners looking to the next World Cup, there’s no better time than 2011 to discover some of South Africa’s famed natural attractions. And what’s so unique about Cape Town, is that many of the city’s most remarkable mountainous wonders are concentrated in one park; the Table Mountain National Park.

Hair whips against faces and tears stream from squinted eyes, as the wind screams and abates the cliff top promontory. A family of baboons scale the rock face lining the approach road, hoping for food from a tourist ignoring the ‘Do Not Feed’ conservation notices.  An excited shrill swarms in the air as the peak’s platform bears the weight of another day’s sprinkle of the thousands of feet that visit the famous point each year. Tourists clamber around, swallowing mouthfuls of wind, capturing their wide eyes and best angles in their cameras.  And, as the Cape’s south-easterly wind rages on, still the watery eyes look down, for it is hard not to be moved by the view ahead. Where are we? Cape Point -the narrow stretch of land that juts out into the Atlantic Ocean marking the south-western tip of Africa – and a dramatic flaunt of Africa’s dual wrath and beauty.

Beneath the high swells that surge against the 200m high rugged cliff, a bed of rocks sit like sly bastions concealed at the sea floor, and many a boat now lie at the bottom of this treacherous bay. The shells of over 400 known shipwrecks now serve as popular diving sites and submerged sanctuaries for marine life.

It seems appropriate that this area was first named by 15^th Century Portuguese explorers as ‘Cabo Tormentoso’, meaning the ‘Cape of Storms’. It was later renamed by King John II of Portugal to ‘Cabo de Boa Esperanca’meaning, as we know it today, the Cape of Good Hope.

The trials and triumphs of these rough waters colour many Cape folklore tales.  The Cape Point funicular is named after an apparent phantom ship that met its peril in the stormy seas of the Cape and was doomed to sail the seas forever - The Flying Dutchman. 

The Flying Dutchman labours the ascent of the peak at Cape Point where visitors can view the lighthouses at the summit and take in a broad view of the Cape of Good Hope.

Affectionately known as the Mother City by locals, Cape Town, with its myriad of mountains to scale, peaks to cycle, oceans to explore and wild life to observe, is a nature lover’s paradise. It’s no wonder Sir Francis Drake said, on seeing the Cape for the first time in 1580, “This cape is the most stately thing and the fairest cape we saw in the whole circumference of the earth.”

An exploration of South Africa’s natural extremities can certainly start in Cape Town, and will inevitably include the Table Mountain National Park. Hikers from near and far can be seen meandering their way around the 24 thousand hectares of land that makes up the Table Mountain National Park. The reserve is home to an array of wildlife including baboons, ostrich, antelopes, flamingos, wild cats and small animals like lizards, snakes and insects. Not to be overlooked though is the diverse fynbos vegetation, namely the famed Protea flower, and indigenous plants, some of which are endemic to the Cape region. 

After a day’s exploring the mountain chain first hand, one can always take in the remarkable rugged range from a fresh vantage point.

With elbows digging deep into the grass, and salty fingers propping up heads, a blanket and a bag of crisps are all the frills needed to enjoy at sunset at Chapman's Peak. Though, like some enviable and more organised Capetonians, one can always park up next one of the look-out picnic benches and salubriously ordain it with clinking wine glasses and wicker-basket-set crockery. 

Here, pink and orange hues brush across the night sky, illuminating the ocean between Haut Bay and the horizon. With the shadowed mountains circling in for a look and the superfluous commentary of the onlookers softly swooning in the air, it’s a magical way to watch the night close.

Chapman’s Peak drive revels in 9 km of Cape Town’s most spectacular marine coastline and it is well worth joining the trail of tourists and locals who carefully negotiate the cliff curves while sneaking peaks at the prized views below. 

No visit to Cape Town would suffice though without ascending the iconic Table Mountain. As the stately backdrop to the city, Cape Town’s most famous landmark, sits distinctly like a table, and on some days, if the weather deems it, is dressed with a table cloth of languid white cloud.

A 360 degree rotating cable car lifts tourists swiftly to the 1087m tall summit where the view of the city, it’s coastline and mountainous inlands is boastfully breath-taking. Venturing past families carefully posing for album photographs and reflective explorers diarising their thoughts, a stroll of Table Mountain will reveal some of Africa’s native flora and fauna. There are numerous hikes, walks and sleeping tours, for the more adventurous types, all over the Table Mountain National Park.

Ditching the sneakers and donning designer sandals, travellers of any heel at Camp’s Bay can enjoy the sloping ridges of the Table Mountain National Park which cluster together behind Camp’s Bay, forming the impressive 12 Apostles. Nature lovers here can, between sips of cocktails and bites of sushi at the swanky restaurants along the coastline strip, steal peaks of the stoic summits enclosing the bay behind.

With South Africa’s outstanding performance as host of the 2010 Soccer World Cup, the country’s ball of  treasures was kicked into the limelight. As much as soccer sportsmanship took the centre stage, so too did the prowess of South Africa’s nature; in all its wild and rugged beauty. For those who watched with envy as the lucky punters of the World Cup climbed Table Mountain, conquered Cape Point and cocktailed in Camps Bay, now’s your chance to really discover Cape Town; and there won’t be any vuvuzela’s to distract you.  

Some pointers:

Camps Bay - arrive early to find a parking spot

Cape Point, Cape of Good Hope and Table Mountain National Park – 80 Rand per adult per day, approximately 42 AED - (Price until 31 Oct 2011)

Table Mountain – 180 Rand, Cableway return ticket, approximately 95 AED - (Single return adult, price as of 26/01/11)

Chapman’s Peak Drive - 28 Rand toll, approximately 15 AED

Cleanse Thyself in Koh Chang

Gillian Gilbride

There are no cocktails on the beach, no full-moon parties, and not a lot of food. This is not your typical Thailand vacation.

Instead of island-hopping between the tourist hot spots of Koh Samui and Phuket, I head off to Thailand’s Koh Chang Island for a six day detox and a 3.5-day fast.   

Its 4pm. It’s the second day of my holiday. And I’m watching a video on how to attach a tube to a bucket, and attach it to the toilet. What I am doing here? And why did I sign up for this?

Where am I? I’m at the Koh Chang Spa Resort in Thailand.

Koh Chang Island 

Koh Chang is a place where butterflies, yes actual butterflies, still flutter between flower buds. And at night their nocturnal friends, the moths, come out and flap against light bulbs in fanciful fits. See-though caterpillars with red backs, colourful geckos and super-sized ants scuttle along lily leaf creases and through bamboo cracks. The Spa Resort Koh Chang, occupying a prime spot of tropical forest on the island’s east coast, literally oozes nature.

Despite being larger than Phuket and Koh Samui, Koh Chang is yet to see scores of tourists spilling into its beachside inlets. This island ticks over at noticeably more tempered pace.

Judging by the handful of guests lazing by the pool, sipping coconuts and lying face down on massage mats, I gather that the chilled ambience of the island doesn’t neglect this small resort.

I too wind down so quickly, that in no time I’m noticing the minutiae of the reptilian world.

The luminescent geckos that scale the mangroves by day are lured indoors as the sun settles, and peek on diners from rafters in the roof. 

One evening at the restaurant, as I slurp my watery vegetable broth, I watch such a gecko catch three gnats. Three gnats? That’s more solid food than I’m getting.

 & its idyllic resort

The menu at the Spa Koh Chang Resort, gnat-free, was recognised as being one of the ‘Best 50 Restaurants’ in 2005 by UK Restaurant magazine. With vegetarian, seafood and raw- food dishes, the menu has me salivating.

The staff, though sweet and smiling, are not to be deceived.  They know exactly which room each guest is in and exactly what food their fasting package allows for. When my hungry eyes extend to scan the vegetarian menu and spot my favourite Pad Thai, they are quick to interject and I am swiftly guided back to the ‘faster’s menu’. 

I’m at the resort for six days however, and only due to start the 3.5 day fast on my second day. This thrillingly allows me a meal on my first evening. And my last supper is…a raw salad.

Served in a huge bowl, the ‘Spa Salad’ looks like a serving for a family of four. So I’m not disappointed and the salad is delicious.

The 3.5 day fast

The days leading up to the 3.5 day fast insist upon a light, raw food diet, along with a liver flush drink of blended garlic, ginger, pineapple juice, cayenne pepper and oil, to be taken twice daily. I start taking this concoction and cut out cooked food while still in Dubai. Preparing for the fast is important so I follow the resort’s guidelines and the only side-effect I experience is a two-day coffee-withdrawal headache.

Not since school have my days been dictated by such a regimented schedule. Haughty clocks are everywhere and I’m careful to have my pink schedule with me at all times.

There are bentonite clay detox shakes to be taken at 7am, 1pm and 7pm. Bentonite clay is a powerful detoxifying agent that absorbs toxins such as pesticides, pathogens and parasites from the gastrointestinal tract.  The clay shakes are mixed with psyllium husk which, due to its laxative properties, helps remove the bentonite clay and the toxins from the body.

Every day at 7am the breakfast club of fasters can be seen grouping at the Colema Bar tree stumps to collectively gulp these shakes down. Not particularly palatable, these shakes have to be drunk quickly as the ingredients thicken.

The liver flush drinks continue and are taken at 8:30am and 4pm.

Lunch and dinner is vegetable broth soup. This mineral soup is a tasteless consommé of freshly brewed vegetables and spices which help replenish essential electrolytes in the body.

Snacks at 2:30pm and 5:30pm can be fresh carrot juice or coconut juice.

There is an hour and half allocated for the ominous ‘colema board’ (more about this soon).

And finally, there are the 20 supplements to be taken at five specific times during the day and one flora grow capsule to be taken before bed.

Phew, it’s no wonder I’m not the only guest walking around clutching that pink schedule as though it was the Holy Grail.

3.5 day fasters like me aren’t the only guests here. There are also the 7 day fasters, day-trippers and regular resort guests, all enjoying the resort facilities; the pool, the steam room, the lake and estuary, twice weekly trips to the beach, yoga and of course the spa treatments. . 

 My second home - the Spa

With a two hour, full-body Thai massage costing just 900 Baht (about 90 dhs), it is easy to justify a massage and facial daily.

The spa is set up in the open-air sala overlooking the lake and pool.

The melodic beat of a tree branch twisting against the spa’s banister plays each night. So too does the trickle of the lake’s fountain and the calls of Koh Chang’s birds as they return to nest.  Lying on the massage mats in the cool dusk breeze and listening to this live orchestra and its crescendo at the tree tops is unmistakably bliss.  

While at dusk I turn into a pampered princess, each day at about 3pm I turn into a tomato. Sweating out toxins, I emerge from the steam-room hut with a glowing red face, just in time for the ‘ampuku.’  These abdominal massages stimulate reflex points in the digestive tract and are an important precursor to the colema, which is scheduled directly afterwards.  

With over 18 types of spa treatments to choose from it’s possible to indulge in something different every day. A task I don’t shy away from.

On the third day I ask for the cellulite treatment.  ‘No need,’ the staff giggle. Flattered, but undeterred the next day I am up on the massage table with a heavy roller machine surveying my skin.

Out of the spa uniform and dressed in task appropriate T-shirt and shorts, the spa therapist is up on the table manoeuvring herself over and around me, slapping my thighs and buttocks. Though not painful, the sound of the slaps reverberates around the resort for a good twenty minutes.

Next I am wrapped in clear-film. Shrink wrapped from waist to thighs and, unable to bend my knees, I inch over to the next table and roll onto it as though I were stuffed into a sumo wrestling suit. Lined with towels and in what appears to be a heated sleeping bag, I am tucked in like a mummy and zipped up. Immobile for ten minutes and slowly heating up, I can’t help think this is probably one of the weirdest things I’ve ever done.

In truth though, the ‘colema’ is the weirdest thing I have ever done. On telling friends and family about my impending detox holiday I conveniently skimmed over the cleansing ‘ins and outs’, saving myself many awkward explanations.

The Colema Board....eek!

Here on day two though, at 4pm, the time has arrived. I am shown a video that depicts exactly how the curious apparatus left outside my room is to be used; two tubes, a tip, a bucket of coffee enema, lubricating gel and a large colema board.

The bucket of coffee is filled with warm water and hung on a hook in the bathroom.

The colema board is supported by the toilet seat and a purposely built wall.

The tubes connect and while lying on the board, 16 litres of warm water flush out the intestinal system.  As the assembly and operation is left to the individual, it is a daunting task at first, but by day two I’ve got the hang of it.

Positive reassurances on printouts are posted on the walls reminding me of ‘what a great thing I’m doing for my body’ and how ‘I’m letting of go of what I no longer need.’ One printout even goes as far as suggesting I could ‘use this time to meditate.’

In tune with nature & the universe

All over Thailand fallen petals get picked up and placed in celebrated water-filled ceramic pots. These pots, sprouting plate-size lily leaves, are dotted around the resort and dutifully decorate the pathways to the pool, restaurant and yoga sala.

Cross-legged and smiling, I am guided in mediation by Luca each morning and start the day conducting feelings of peace and gratitude. The gentle exercises of yoga follow which further release toxins and clear blockages in the lymphatic system. The ‘Love mudra’ stretches out the last of our limbs at the session’s close and we all send unconditional love to each other and the world.

 Ending the detox

The detox process is not without its side effects. On one day I feel fatigued, my muscles ache, joints hurt; I feel weepy and even miss a yoga session. Rich Anderson in his book Cleanse& Purify Thyself describes this as a normal ‘cleansing reaction’.

Anderson also says that “purifying the body helps purify the mind, because consciousness, in the form of memory, is often stored in the proteins of our bodies.”

I do feel a strong connection between the overall physical detoxification process and my own emotional release. I shed many old beliefs about myself that no longer serve true. 

On my last day I order to go, the ‘Spa Salad’, a fruit salad and raw vegetable spring rolls.

As the carts wheels down the cabin, I produce this assortment to eat in lieu of the airplane meal. The man sitting next to me looks over with raised eyebrows. ‘This is Thailand food,’ he says.

‘Yes, Thailand food is the best.’ I reply.

Eating raw for 10 days did wonders for my skin, my mind, my digestion and my waistline, (I lost 2 kilos). I ended the week feeling more connected, more energetic and more clear-minded than I had, possibly ever, and I’m already planning the next 7 day detox.

(Trip from Feb 2011)

Mother Theresa's Calcutta

Calcutta Cab

The metal workings of the doors are exposed. The plastic red seat covering is tightly stretched across the length of the back seat; dirty foam pokes out from burst slits. There are no seatbelts.  There is no radio - the noise of Calcutta blaring in through the windows is music enough though.

Klara (one of the crew) and I, clutching flowers for Mother Theresa’s grave, are in the backseat of a yellow sticky-hot taxi; a taxi, so ancient looking, I’m sure has been making its coin since the colonial era.

Sights and Sounds of the City

We are mostly quiet during the cab ride through Calcutta. The sights, sounds and smells of the city have me spellbound and speechless. Dogs are fornicating on the sidewalk. Children are showering from street pipes. I saw one man shampoo his hair from a water hydrant; the foamy water spilling into the street, streaming through mounds of mottled garbage on the sidewalk. Men are sleeping with their livelihoods by their side. A mix of modern buildings and makeshift shacks line the roads. Live chickens ride the streets in the baskets of bicycles.

Some cows merely mill around and get hooted at, while others are hard at work bearing large loads and getting jabbed with sticks by their owners. Smartly dressed men and women on tuk-tuks weave through the chaos, as do cars, bicycles, cattle, dogs, buses, street hawkers, beggars, and children in pressed uniforms on their way to school.

Money for Milk Formula

When we find the Mother Theresa Center and leave the taxi we are instantly accosted by a woman with a baby slung on her side. ‘Milk for my baby,’ she pleads.

We follow her for a good 15 minutes, passing many places we were could’ve bought milk formula. When we protest saying it is too far in the wrong direction, she becomes very dramatic, gesturing with choice words like ‘husband’, ‘hungry’ and ‘milk’. So we follow her to her preferred street stall. There the stall owner, who I’m now certain was in cahoots with her, produces a large can of expensive milk formula. Klara and I work out the price in dirhams and are shocked. Obviously inflated, the price was too much and we start to walk away. Protesting loudly, she conveniently produces a smaller and more reasonably priced can of baby formula. We purchase it for her.

A little boy appears from nowhere and seems to be the woman’s other child. We give him one of the children’s books we have. (We brought some gifts with us for the orphanage.) He takes it, but with more enthusiasm points to the sweets in the stall. We end up buying the milk for the mother, giving the child books, pencils and buying him sweets, crisps and coke.

We eventually assert that we have to leave and set off to try and navigate our way back to the orphanage. I have no doubt that the stall man placed the formula back on the shelf and split the money with the woman. The woman too probably trailed behind us back to the orphanage, ready to scout for another set tourists to trick.

Mother Theresa’s Grave

At the Mother Theresa Center we are welcomed by the nuns. We take of our shoes at the humble entrance and walk through the courtyard to the museum. Mother Theresa’s meticulous diaries and log books, photos and other memorabilia are on display in glass cabinets and pinned to boards. Only a few tourists are there with us in the small museum. We walk upstairs to see the where the woman - well-known throughout the world and a hero and saint in history – slept. Her room is basic and belongings sparse. The small room is barred and left exactly as it was when she died.

There is a small mass in service which we are careful not to interupt. We put flowers on her grave and statue. The diminutive statue further impresses upon me how remarkable it is that one humble woman can change the lives of so many and create such following for humanity. She truly is an example of human potential at its greatness and most generous.

For such a humanitarian icon, and treasured figure, I suppose I expected a glorified, elaborate tribute to her life. The Mother Theresa Center though - the museum, the tomb, the chapel and orphanage is very basic. Perhaps, just as Mother Theresa was so self-less, the nuns that succeed her now, too, use the donations self-lessly - serving the people rather than upkept or extravagance.

The Orphanage

At the center's orphange we are led to a room that, though not particularly large, is filled with cots and sleeping and crying babies. Sisters are dotted around the nursery attending to them. We are left to walk around and I worry this is to the displeasure of the sisters, who already have a lot on their hands. We later find out though, from two British volunteers here, that the orphanage relies heavily on donations of money and goods from tourists like us. I hoped our gifts of books and pencils would be adequate. Soap, linen and towels though may have been more helpful.

At one cot I am struck rigid by a sight that has haunted me ever since. Lying in the cot was a little Indian baby that could only have been a few weeks old. With a pink beanie on its head it lay sleeping; so peaceful, completely unaffected by the noise around. I struggle to digest the sad truth that confronts me. Both the baby’s arms are in casts. And the baby’s legs, both broken too, also lie stretched out in little casts. How does a baby break all its limbs?

It takes me a while to move from the crib, and still now the memory of that baby shakes my emotions. What a start to life for such a little soul; parentless, with a broken body.

We give the books and colouring pencils we had brought with us to the older children. We sit, and play with them for some time. They are bubbly, loud and pass around our books inquisitively. This gives me hope for the little baby in the crib.

We meet a mother and her daughter from the UK who are volunteering at the orphanage and have rented an apartment nearby. They tell us about the volunteering program and how people come from all over the world to help out.




This trip was both humbling and inspiring. I feel very lucky to have had the opportunity to see where Mother Theresa lived and worked. It was also moving to see ordinary people like the pair from the UK choosing to work in the slums of Calcutta to better the lives of the most needy.

  


(Trip from Aug 08)

Thailand's Ancient Capital City - Ayutthaya

The prospect of squeezing a tour of Bangkok's ancient city into a 24 hour layover, after only arriving in the city after midnight, wasn't thrilling at first. Anna, one of the crew, insisted though that these half-day tours are great. So after minimal sleep I'm downstairs at 6:50am with puffy eyes and ready for the 'Ayutthaya' tour.

Riding along in the coach with 'real' tourists who are on a 'real' holiday is refreshing. "See, its like a mini-holiday for us," Anna encourages.

As soon as we head out of Bangkok and escape the garlands of electrical lines, I don't need much encouragement to be enthused. Instead of the bustling streets, and bucket-stool stalls, we soon drive past lakes and lush paddy fields.
The countryside quickly becomes rural and green.

We arrive about two hours later at Ayutthaya - the former capital city of Thailand. Sedately we explore the ruins that remain.

The ravaged ruins of the palaces of Ayutthaya stand in stark contrast to the prim pagodas and manicured lawns of the Bang Pa-In Palace. This summer palace has been polished to a fine-comb degree and is uncanny it is neatness. It reminds me of Wisteria Lane or Disneyland, and in its attempt at grandeur, the historical significance of the palace seems to be lost.

Stray dogs sporting coats of legions, scabs and bald patches case the Wat Lokayasutharam area - the next stop on our tour. In keeping a safe distance from the mangy, but harmless, 'hyenas' I'm thrust into the path of the more aggressive hawkers selling lotus flowers and incense. I hurriedly take some photos of the reclining Buddha and am relieved to soon be back on the coach.

We also visit the ruins of another temple where tourists are seen huddled not around the piles of bricks, but grouping around a tree. Closer inspection reveals the tree bears a carving of a Buddha face at its trunk. Beautiful!

The cruise along the Chao Phraya River delivers my first proper meal of the day. The little boat was quiet for a good 15 minutes as everyone tucked into the Thai buffet, so my guess is that many people too skipped breakfast.

By 4pm we were back at the hotel for a few hours sleep before the flight back to Dubai.

I'm glad I took the tour and got to see some of Bangkok's historical sights. It made for refreshing change from the usual sights and sounds I experience in the 'city of smiles'.

The Elephant Orphanage of Nairobi

"The feeling of respect for all species will help us recognize the noblest nature in ourselves." - Thich Nhat Hanh

We’ve all heard about ethical shopping and maybe in our everyday lives we do make an effort to support organic and eco-friendly products and places. But what happens to our green intentions when we travel?

Travel for me has been all about soaking up experiences, discovering the wonders of the world and having fun. And it still is; but with modern day travel and the Internet making the world ever smaller, I’m beginning to see that we all need to look further than preserving our own patch of grass. What’s going on in one part of the world will ultimately affect us all.  

As consumers of tourism, a billion dollar industry, we yield great power in shaping the industry and its practices.

It was after my trip to Nairobi that the idea of ‘responsible travel’ truly resonated with me. I visited The David Sheldrick Elephant Orphanage and was moved by this organisation that saves orphaned or abandoned baby elephants from the wild and nurses them to health. They shelter the elephants from excessive human contact and food, giving them special formulated milk, a caring environment and the social support of other elephants so that they can recover from their ordeals and thrive in the wild.

The keepers at the orphanage take the elephants on walks, where they leave their scent for the wild elephants. In their own time, through these excursions, the elephants from the orphanage find new families amongst their wild counterparts.

The traumatic tales that happened so early of the baby elephants’ were heart wrenching to hear. Some had had their mother’s killed by poachers in front of them, others had fallen down wells, been attacked by hyenas and the baby rhinoceros living at the orphanage was found guarding the dead body of its mother from vultures.

What makes the plight of these elephants even more emotionally gripping was to learn that elephants have incredible memories, strong family ties and can mourn for lost family members for months.

Fortunately for the animals here, they are now safely in the hands of people who genuinely care and understand about their wellbeing.  

The David Sheldrick Elephant Orphanage is a wonderful place to support and visit if you are ever in Kenya. You cannot touch, hold, feed or ride the elephants but you can see them at a close quarters being fed by the keepers and bathing in mud pools. Instead of taking away a photo of you riding an elephant, you’ll take away a sense of pride in that you’ve supported an organisation that is making a difference to the wildlife of Africa in the most ethical of ways.

Our support of animal-friendly organisations will allow them to prosper and further benefit their environment and communities. Equally, by not supporting organisations that are neglectful and abusive to animals we can force them to improve their practices or shut down.

Realising that our actions have direct repercussions on the environment is empowering and a stepping stone to change. Whether it’s choosing an eco-friendly lodge on a safari or not buying animal-product souvenirs on a shopping layover, our actions, however small, can make a difference. Next time you’re abroad, why not give a thought to where your money is going; we have the power of responsible travel, so let’s use it!

Extras

§  Before the 1990’s the cruel practice of dancing bears was widespread in Turkey and tourists paid to see these barbaric performances. Due to the publicity created by animal rights groups like WSPA, understanding of this inhumane practice deepened, and tourist’s attitudinal change has largely brought an end to this practice.

§  For more information on how to be a responsible traveller, look at WSPA’s Compassionate Travel Tips. www.wspa.org.au/tips_traveller.asp

§  If you would like to support The David Sheldrick orphanage, visit the website and for $50 USD a year you can adopt an elephant. www.sheldrickwildlifetrust.org

(Trip from 2009)