Back in those days, it wasn't easy at all to get to the Far East. The journey from Europe took about 24 hrs, with at least 7 stops on the way.
First stop would be Rome, then either Cairo or Beirut. Oh Beirut....what a city...Paris of the Middle East, with its fantastic boulevards which had on their sides Cyprus trees cut in most extraordinary shapes. I guess one always remembers the smell...the smell of the Mediterranean sea mixed with Cyprus trees and exotic spices.
Our Hotel was situated on the beautiful rocky coast line . We would walk through the souks and I would be fascinated by the glitter of the jewellery shops, with colours of gold and turquoise.
Delicious food, starters like ballady or nan with houmus, dolme, sour salad called tourshi, rich yougurt with pistachio nuts, rice or couscous, lamb, chicken or small tiny roasted pigeons, and the sweets ,rahat lokhum, kadaif with walnuts and sugar sirup.
I remember getting there my first turquoise golden ring...I think I still have it, maybe the size still fits. Oh, and I remember Beirut by something else too, oh , I'll never forget that. Back in the 60s there was hardly any good dentist in Jakarta, and all the doctors were either Dutch or English, so we made all our check ups while on holidays in Europe, so time came for me to ware my first braces...and as I wasn't very amused by the idea, just imagine the braces in those days, nobody would have been amused by the fact that you had to ware something strange as well as big, uncomfortable.....yikes....so at the arrival at our hotel, the first thing I did was flush it in the toilet, and the beating I got from my mother then / as there was no way back/ is something I'll remember for a life time....oh well....
So, we continue our trip from Beirut to Doha. In the middle of the desert, the first and only airport I've ever seen /and last ofcours/ which had the runway illuminated by torches...can you imagine that???You would immediately get the feeling of the desert...orange colour sky, hot dry air, a small building with a sign saying Doha International Airport, ofcours we had to walk from the plane to the building.
Then the waiting, and my sister and I asked our mom to buy us "that drink called Coca Cola" hah..http://planetlila.multiply.com/my kids wouldn't believe this/ then as she bought us one each...we tried and said yikes...so that was my first experience with Coca Cola, which ofcours, I did drink later on.
Well, in places like Doha, we wouldn't stay over, there was actually no where to stay and nothing much to see except the desert...in contrast with today's Doha, omg, that's a contrast.
Then we continue our trip either to Tehran or Karachi.
Tehran - Iran in the era of Reza Pahlavi. Now that's another contrast. I remember the city and it was almost as being in the old continent - Europe. Shops where we used to buy Pashmina shawls, clothes made of leather lined with lambs wool, Buhara carpets and Beluga caviar - very cheap in those days. I loved to visit Shiraz, which was the ancient capital, so pure, so beautiful.
I'll skip Karachi, as from Indonesia and a couple of more countries we would eventually come to Pakistan and live there for a couple of years, so I'll just continue my flight to the Far East now.
Bombay! That certainly was a bay with a view, when the tide was low , one could walk to a small pavilion, I would watch the woman in their colourful saris , they seemed like walking on the water, their saris getting wet...then the tide would come again and the pavilion was left as if floating on the water.
Our Hotel, red-brick Victorian style built, had all the glamour of the old colonial days. The terrace with fans where we would sit in the afternoon having our 5 o'clock Darjeling tea and muffins, white painted bamboo chairs and tables, a bar where only men would be allowed, a room where they played pool with very tall chairs, if one would like to sit and watch, a beautiful big chandelier illuminating the green surface and colourful ivory balls...later in the evening the barbecue and the smell of chicken tikha masala and chicken tandoori with rice and paratha...some mango chutney. The taste and the smell of India, I would call it. Everyone spoke in their low voices, no noise, maybe just a sudden light laughter...
The market with snake and lizard skin bags, oh and even fur coats which in those days I used to wonder where would one wear them..hah, silver and brass handy crafts of Wishna and Shiva, and elephants ...omg elephants curved in ivory, wood, silver, brass...paintings of elephants...just a lot of elephants everywhere.
Leaving Bombay on the way to the Far East, things and places would start to look more familiar to me. Culcatta, Rangoon, Bangkok.
Hot and humid, and I would start feeling I was coming, to what in those days I used to call "home".
Bangkok and Singapore were always part of that "home" as we often travelled to those places for shopping, as today one would go to Italy to by shoes and to Paris to by clothes, we would go to Bangkok and Singapore to buy food, notebooks for school, my first Barbie dolls, one a brunette other a blond , first toys, first jeans, first roller skates, first ballet shoes, first comic books...Archie, Betty and Veronica...How one appreciated and cherished those gifts...truly happiness.
Flying somewhere over the island of Sumatra, they would always give us diplomas for crossing the equator , some cookies and drinks. Arriving at Jakarta /then Djakarta/ airport I would have forgotten when we started our trip back "home", places we went to and people we visited. I was happy just to be back home...in the car with no air con. watching the familiar roads, waiting for the familiar street, ...Ani and Ati opening the gates and the sound of Lessie barking and jumping through the window and greeting us...I was home.
...to be continued...
