Straits ahead: Malacca in Mint

Iam trying hard not to laugh at my guide. He has been very friendly, chatting in Tamil on the bus to Malacca. He has also organized a vegetarian lunch for me, after he’s recovered from the shock of encountering someone who doesn’t eat meat. The reason I am having trouble is, talking about the history of Malacca, he keeps mentioning the Chineast and the Portugueast. Finally when he says, “After this, you all get into the bust”, a giggle escapes; I hastily turn it into a cough and end up choking.

Malacca (or Melaka as locals call it) is one of Malaysia’s few Unesco world heritage sites. There is a lot of dispute over when the city was founded but my guide authoritatively says it was in the early 15th century. It flourished as a trading port, attracting the attention of invaders. In many ways, Malacca reminds me of Fort Kochi: Portuguese, Dutch, British and Chinese influences are scattered around the city.

More here on Mint – this appeared a few weeks ago – forgot to post it here… Have a nice day, lah!

His and Hers: Biscuits for both

Recession has done strange things to the food scene in Kuala Lumpur. See this, for one…

And also this – anything to maintain peace at home during these tough times, looks like…

Malaysia window dressing

Covered heads and bare legs – the paradox that is Malaysia.

I love such cultures which have space for contradictions to exist peacefully together, even if not such extremes. I saw this in Turkey as well – Asian and European, modern and traditional, the hijab and the mini-skirt side by side. Whatever the tension simmering under the surface, on the streets, there is a sense of these elements coming together like pieces of a puzzle.

Non-sightings at the night safari

We reached the resort at Taman Negara by 3 p.m. – late starts, rainy mornings and pit-stops for middle-of-the-road photography notwithstanding. One of the first things we did on arrival was to check out the possible activities for the next 24 hours – and signed up for a night safari.

And we spent the rest of the evening napping, walking in and around the resort, looking for food (which my meat-eating friends found at a village home where we were welcomed warmly for a Hari Raya / Ramzan meal – and where the aged matriarch smiled sweetly and smoked beedi non-stop) and then vegetarian food (which we finally found at the resort having sent the kitchen staff into a tizzy).

The safari was to begin at 8.30 p.m. and we stood crisply by the open van a good ten minutes earlier, visions of night-time experiences in the jungle (that included spotting wild animals and exotic insects, among other things) crowding for space in our heads. Four others from a Singapore family joined us and we clambered up into the jeep – two of the group literally, since they were sent to sit up on the rooftop on an open, flat wooden seat. Don’t worry, very safe, said the guide looking at our apprehensive faces. I’ve only fallen off twice. Heh, he didn’t say that last bit. What he did say was, you guys on the roof are the lucky ones, you get to spot the animals first. And what he certainly should have added was, in any case, any animal we do see will be an herbivore.

For we did spot animals in the safari – three plump and indifferent cows, a terrified leopard cat and a void in the distance high up on a tree that the guide promised us was a flying squirrel. Wait and watch, he fly now. Er, no, he didn’t fly, if there was indeed any he up there. And if you are wondering about cows and cats inside a 300 million year-old rainforest, it turns out that the resort forgot to mention that the night safari is inside a palm plantation just off the highway, in the opposite direction to the rainforest.

Well, well. We all live and learn. Sometimes.

Not that the night was without excitement. Just as we were turning back towards the main road, the front wheel of our jeep got stuck in a ditch. And there we were, eight tired and sleepy people, a guide trying to be reassuring and not at all succeeding (it may have helped if he did not look so close to tears) and a thoroughly perplexed driver on a mud path in the midst of pitch-dark palm trees. What to do, lah?. No signal on any mobile phone, no further ideas from anyone. And on the positive side, the knowledge that there was nothing more dangerous in the vicinity than a disgruntled cow.

And so we stood, a small bunch of us exchanging ‘what is the worst that could happen’ ideas, during which friend and I kept dissolving into hysterical giggles (we were tired. No? not good enough?). Anyway. At the end of an hour, someone came up with a brainwave – and the jeep came unstuck and we finally headed back to the comfort of the resort and a roof over our heads.

That apart, Taman Negara is a fabulous place, a must-visit on your trip to Malaysia. And here are some tips for getting the best out of Taman Negara:

~ Em, avoid the night safari. Oh, you’ve thought of it already by now, have you? Try a night walk instead – you may still spot nothing but atleast they take you into the forest…

~ The adventure activities on offer at Taman Negara include – river rafting and fishing, a visit to the Orang Asli settlement (original inhabitants of the forest), visits to old caves, treks and hikes into the jungle… All this requires you to spend a minimum of three days – unfortunately we were there just for a night and had to miss most of it. Your resort / guesthouse will usually be able to make arrangements for these activities. Ideally, take a package from the resort that includes food and activities.

~ That said, there was no guide available for the forest canopy walk for the morning but it turned out to be not a problem. You do not really need a guide for this – ask around to see if you really need a guide for all the activities (that just means extra charge from the resorts).

~ Taman Negara is accessed easily by road from Kuala Lumpur – a comfortable 4-hour drive. Or, you can take a bus or cab to Jerantut and take a 3-hour boat ride from Kuala Tembeling to Kuala Tahan (on the other side of the river from Taman Negara, a minute by boat). Most of the resorts / guesthouses are located in Kuala Tahan – there is only one resort, the Mutiara which claims to be inside the rainforest – but this too is on the periphery. It just is on the right side of the river – and if your budget does not stretch so much, stay in Kuala Tahan – we stayed at the Rainforest Resort.

Also read about the canopy walkway inside the rainforest: A walk above the woods

A walk above the woods

The Ramzan holiday was a long weekend in Malaysia and a friend from Jakarta had also come down to Kuala Lumpur. And so, bright and early on Friday morning, the four of us set off for Taman Negara. Not so bright really, since the morning dawned rainy and gray, prompting this status message from me on facebook – ‘I know it is called rainforest but does it have to rain the morning I am headed there?’. Luckily the rain let up by the time we headed out of Kuala Lumpur and the weather felt just right for a long drive – sunny and cool, with misty clouds swirling over Genting Highlands in the distance.

Now Taman Negara was entirely my decision – each time I saw an ad for Malaysia Tourism, it was the canopy walkway over the forest that caught my attention – imagine, a walk on a rickety bridge over tall trees! I had no idea where this canopy was exactly in Malaysia – I found out when I was researching travel options just before I headed to that country. I also found out that Taman Negara is one of the world’s oldest rainforest – 130 million years old. And so my insistence on heading to Taman Negara – my local friends (who were driving and guiding us) were hoping for a shorter and easier trip to Malacca but I would have none of it.

A bit about the name – Taman Negara literally translates as ‘National Park’ – so much for creative names – a forest as ancient and venerable as this surely deserves something spicier? But then, it was called King George V National Park before the Malay government changed its name after independence in 1957. And anyway, who am I to crib? In India, we would have renamed it the Rajiv / Indira / Rahul Gandhi National Park – in comparison, Taman Negara surely sounds zingier.

The road to Taman Negara was beautiful – two hours on the broad divided highway, followed by two hours on narrow village roads. Cows clearly had priority here, judging by the signboards all over – in any case, the roads were mostly empty (it was Ramzan day); no cars, no cows. And on these long, winding country roads, I did one of the craziest and funnest things ever.

The next morning, we walked to the jetty at Kuala Tahan and crossed the muddy Sungai Tahan in a minute on a longtail boat. We were immediately inside the National Park area, where we bought our tickets and headed towards the canopy walkway. It was a hot day; during parts of the walk, the sky was hardly visible thanks to the cover provided by the tall, wide trees but the humidity levels were enough to leave us all puddles of sweat by the first twenty minutes. The few hundred meters have wooden steps – heh, what kind of jungle walk is this? And then the fun starts!

It is about 2 kilometers to the canopy, not a tough walk, even for soft city types like me. If you walk without stopping (and that would have been a good idea, as we found out later – even if it sounds pointless now), it should not take more than 45 minutes. We took close to two hours! It was just the heat (it is as good an excuse as any!) combined with a path full of booby traps (read: winding tree roots) for people like me to trip and fall on (which I did, bruising my knees a pretty purple). And the fact that we had to stop every 3 minutes for a photograph – the trees, the ominous-looking tree roots, us under the trees in various combinations, mushrooms of all shapes and colours (my hands were so shaky from the heat and tiredness that I barely managed any good shots of these), ditto for leaves and flowers.

Bad idea. The canopy walkway is open from 9.30 a.m. – we reached by 11.30 a.m. – to find half of Malaysia, and a significant proportion of other nations (damn these tourists!) already waiting in line, patiently wilting under the midday heat, especially after the last 200 meters of climb up those wooden steps (I know it doesn’t sound like much – wait till you try it). Long holiday weekend, people.

And so we registered our names and waited. And waited. And waited. For two hours (only a limited number of people are allowed up at a time for safety reasons). Too tired to even talk among ourselves for the first thirty minutes. So we sat in quiet desperation, watching the large tour groups talk in rapid-fire Japanese (signs of a reviving economy?) and munch on snacks and cold drinks incessantly. My sympathies were with the other snackless souls like us, all trying to make themselves as comfortable as they could, looking up longingly at the walkway.

Finally, we heard our names being called and we made our way up to the canopy and started walking along the wobbly bridge. It was initially scary, and all our energies were focused on just holding on to the sides. By the time we reached the first bridge point, we were used to it and comfortable enough to take photographs; look ma, no hands! The canopy meanders close to a 100 feet above the ground, over the forest, through the middle of tall trees – I looked up to see them stretch on a hundred feet higher! The sounds of the jungle were all around us; birds chirping, leaves rustling, crickets and insects humming, even the flow of the river at a distance…

A word about the canopy itself. It is a narrow walkway, stretching for over 400 meters on top of the trees. Only 280 meters of the walk was open to public that day due to some repair-work on the remaining path. We had walked for two kilometers and waited for two hours on a hot day to walk a 280 meters above the trees? Well, all I can say is, it was totally worth it.

***
(More on Taman Negara, including travel and stay information coming up soon – watch this space!)

City lights

It’s close to the Ramzan festival when I am in Kuala Lumpur – all over the city, the country, in restaurants, shops, public places, I hear religious (I assume, since my local friend says these are Id-related) songs being played. Quite cheery and festive, somewhat like Christmas carols. Soon I find myself humming along ‘Selamat Hari Raya…’

***
Festivity is certainly in the air. The long weekend, the entire country seems to be out – there is open house (which means free coffee and cookies for me at the hotel in Taman Negara) all over and everyone is smiling. In all this, the Chinese are qiuetly preparing for their mooncake festival. Shopping malls have red lanterns and free music performances – and the ground floor is filled with small stalls selling mooncakes – my favourite of them being the one called ‘Six Happiness’ – I want all of them!

In all this, I manage to watch Dabangg with friends, one of them being Malaysian Chinese – she follows the movie through the sub-titles. I suddenly find her silently wiping away tears in the middle of the movie – very emotional scene, she blushes as I laugh. Salman Khan has a new fan in Malaysia, lah!

***
It has been raining since the night I landed in KL – the Air Asia people kindly handed each of us a bright red umbrella to get to the terminal from the aircraft. My first day here is grey and dull and I am a bit disoriented. After dinner, my friend drives me around KL showing me the sights and I am so sleepy I can barely muster enough interest – and then we stop near the Petronas Tower. And I am totally mesmerised. I think of it as beautiful – tall and towering, the bright lights, the buzz around the area. I realize again that I am a total city person – nature, forests, greenery and open spaces are all nice but I’ve always lived in large cities and always want to. Not for me the peace and quiet and slow life (Bangalore is nice, but I still miss Bombay!) – give me the noise, the lights, the traffic, the people, the buzz. Yes, I know, I am a bad person. Go sue me.

It’s all about the language, lah!

Language in Malaysia is very interesting – the way they have picked up the best bits from other languages and added them to their own Bahasa. And I am not saying this simply because I got cheap thrills out of hearing Malays and Chinese alike say Aiyyo! whenever dismay strikes. I like it that they have kept their language simple – and phonetic. So there are familiar words spelt differently (and seems to be, for the better) – kolej, otomotif, poskode, farmasi, impak, restoran.

On the other hand, the language is sometimes unimaginative, especially when it comes to names of places – Kuala Lumpur itself means ‘muddy confluence’. And take their gorgeous National Park Taman Negara – it means Park National – surely someone could think of something more exciting for a 130 million year old rainforest?

On yet another hand (heh!), I came across one of the prettiest phrases ever – Terima Kasih for thank you – translates into ‘receive my love’ – what an absolutely lovely, evocative meaning. I oohed and aahed when I heard about it.

And then I went and spoilt it thus. When my Indian friend in KL said Terima Kasih to me, I replied, Meri ma theek hai. Terima Kasih?

An uneven path to peace

This piece on Sri Lanka appeared in Mint Lounge of April 24th.

I am in Anuradhapura at the Sri Maha Bodhi shrine, a must-visit destination for locals and visitors alike. The low fence encloses a cutting from the Bo tree (Ficus religiosa), protected and venerated by Buddhists, under which Siddhartha Gautama is believed to have attained enlightenment. Walking along the designated path, I muse slightly derisorily on the kind of things that take on religious significance. Suddenly, I stop.

Ahead in the open ground, a group of soldiers in full uniform (sans footwear) is sitting under the sprawling branches of a tree. They are listening intently to, and repeating, the prayers a yellow-robed monk is reciting. Or not so intently. I bring down my camera sheepishly when one of the soldiers, baby-faced, looks around and spots me. As I freeze, wondering if I have just committed a faux pas, he grins broadly at me. The chanting continues, the monk’s tones sonorous, the soldiers’ soft.

While the world may be debating whether the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) has truly been vanquished, the country itself seems to be enjoying its hard-earned peace. Everywhere in Sri Lanka, there are domestic tourists in large numbers. The president, Mahinda Rajapaksa, seems popular among his compatriots for the tough decisions that steered the country towards the end of the civil war. Everywhere there is a buzz about the impending general election and the streets are lined with fluttering pennants. In a predominantly Buddhist country, these could be prayer flags but for Rajapaksa’s beaming face on them. My driver sings his praises and is confident that he will win (and despite his several detractors, he subsequently does).

On Galle Face Green by the sea in Colombo, hundreds of people are walking around, thrilled as much by the cool evening breeze as their new-found sense of freedom. A young couple I talk to say they have never seen so few soldiers on this road. “This is the first time nobody has stopped to question us,” they say. There are groups of soldiers on the main streets of Colombo, but they all wave us through with friendly smiles. There are metal detectors everywhere too, but coming from a country where they are just as common, I do not view them as particularly ominous.

The only time I experience a frisson of tension is on the second day of our week-long drive through Sri Lanka, when I reveal to our driver-guide my Tamil ethnicity. A Sinhalese Buddhist, he has been telling us all morning about the racial strife in the region and describing in great detail the numerous bomb blasts the country has survived. He stops mid-sentence but recovers immediately and asks in a worried voice: “Aishwarya Rai? She is not Tamil, no?”

In Sri Lanka, aggression seems to have co-existed with or preceded peace throughout its history. Sigiriya, now a part of the country’s cultural triangle, stands testimony to this fact. Built on a foundation of violence by King Kassapa, who murdered his father Dhatusena in the fifth century, Sigiriya was partly absolved when it was converted into a monastery after its ruler’s downfall.

When I reach Sigiriya, the morning drizzle has turned into a downpour. I am standing on the muddy path leading to the Lion Rock, staring in dismay at the sheer rock face (600ft high, I remember reading) that appears and disappears in the thick mist. I am half tempted to turn back: Do I want to risk life and limb to see the ruined palace of a patricidal king? An old lady clad in a monk’s white robes stops next to me and flashes an almost toothless smile. Holding on to a thin plastic sheet that serves as her raincoat, she points to the rock and me in turns, silently urging me on. I smile in return and start walking ahead, only to see her scamper away into the fog that has descended on the steep steps. Each time I stop to catch my breath, I look around for her, but doubtless she has climbed all the way to the top by then.

I understand Sigiriya’s inaccessibility—Kassapa intended it to be an impregnable fortress—but that knowledge does not make it any easier for me to walk down the wet steps. I am suddenly distracted by the cackle of the young boys next to me, oblivious to the rain. No such worries for them; they are giggling, perhaps at the memory of the topless women on the walls midway to the peak, the frescoes of the mysterious “Sigiriya maidens”. I remember seeing in Anuradhapura a group of schoolboys roughly the same age, walking single file holding lotus buds in their hands. None of the boisterousness of the young there, they fit right into the rarefied surroundings.

It was faith that brought them—and kept them well behaved—to that small shrine to worship a tree, just as it is unassailable faith that attracts people of all ages to Kandy, home to the temple that holds Sri Lanka’s most important religious artefact, believed to be the tooth of the Buddha himself, retrieved from his funeral pyre, no less. Legend has it that the tooth was carried into Anuradhapura in the fourth century by Prince Dantha and Princess Hemamala, hidden in the latter’s hair. Paintings in the temple show the princess in a hairdo reminiscent of actor Sharmila Tagore’s 1970s beehive. The tooth soon came to be associated as much with royalty as religion; among contenders, custody of this relic guaranteed access to the throne. Consequently, it has a troubled history and has changed hands several times—including, in later centuries, the Portuguese and the British—before arriving at its final abode in Kandy.

The relic lies in a casket behind closed doors, taken out only for important visitors and on important days. That does not deter the thousands who make their way to the temple daily. “Every Buddhist in Sri Lanka must visit it at least once in his lifetime,” says our guide. I join the men and women clad mostly in white who queue outside, patient through the numerous security checks and barriers. Inside, they devoutly place their lotus buds at the entrance of the shrine, take photographs, light lamps and head straight to the pleasant lake beside the temple, with its duck-faced paddle boats bobbing about idly in the middle.

The people I meet across Sri Lanka—the happy families at Galle Sea Face, the white-robed monk at Sigiriya, the young soldier at Anuradhapura, the lotus vendor in front of the Kandy tooth temple—have all been gentle and friendly, making it easy to forget that they live in a country that has seen decades of violence. Perhaps they smile hoping—or knowing—that it is now time for peace.

Saturday at Chatuchak

I am not very fond of shopping, even in a place like Bangkok. Or perhaps, particularly in a place like Bangkok – all the malls seem the same after a while – all glass and steel and selling characterless branded (whether genuine or spurious) clothes and electronics.

It was on my second trip to Bangkok that I discovered the Chatuchak weekend market, thanks to a friend who lives there. Chatuchak is popular among both tourists and locals and prices are very reasonable, with bargaining not just acceptable but actually expected from buyers.

Chatuchak (pronounced Jatujak) is the largest market in Thailand, and for a nation known for it shopping, that is saying a lot. I am told that the market has over 15000 stalls – divided into sections – and if you are the ‘shopping types’ that means you could spend the entire day there and not have covered all of it. I spent a few hours on a Saturday morning and was exhausted at the end of the first thirty minutes.

Like all self-respecting markets, there are street performers all along the lanes of Chatuchak – from a group of children in school uniform playing classical Western music to lone musicians on traditional instruments, this market has it all…

Not to mention the other kinds of street artists – jugglers, magicians, painters…

Chatuchak is a great place to buy local, Thai handicraft and souvenirs. Tourists are however advised to be cautious before buying expensive antiques; some of them are brand-new antiques, made specially for this market!

This is one of my favourite cluster of shops – selling wooden toys and musical instruments – I picked up a lampshade shaped like a small elephant and several pretty candle holders in dark wood.

Thankfully, there is plenty to eat and drink in the market – again, try the local fare – I was there in summer and had sticky rice with mango every chance I got, washing it down with coconut water or these cooling agents…

This is what these little dots of colour are… and this is how I want to be when I grow old (not all grey and wrinkled but young-at-heart and enjoying the simple pleasures of life)…

Tip : Take a sky-train or metro to the nearest station, grab a couple of bottles of water and a map of the market and find the zone that has the stalls that are of interest to you – that way, you get to spend time and energy where you really want to, avoiding the other zones (says, pets and live animals, for instance!).

The Sri Lanka holiday

So it’s been over a month now since I returned from Sri Lanka and I have not blogged about it. Have you been wondering? (and if not, why not?). The truth is, the entire holiday was slightly underwhelming and I have been mulling over what was not quite right – actually, I knew what was wrong even while in Sri Lanka but I have been trying to think objectively about it since my return.

A combination of many things really – it was raining heavily the first few days of the trip, I was in poor health (and had to visit a doctor in Colombo finally – the worst thing on a holiday)… but the main culprit – without which, the others would still have been alright – is that my travel planning agents had screwed up big time.

In my travels, I have rarely used a travel agent of any sort – except to book tickets and such basic requirements – and have been wary of them. To me, ‘travel agent’ has always spelt trouble – from minor bloopers, wrong dates, unkept promises all the way to blatant cheating, I had heard all the stories and sworn off them. The only reason I considered ivinca was that I was busy during that period and was glad to have someone plan and book for me (otherwise, I love the travel planning as much, or nearly as much as the actual travel!) – and I had met the owner / promoter who had spun a story of “we are not a booking agent – we are your holiday partners and will plan your entire trip for you based on your interests and requirements” – serves me right for falling for that.

So, finally what happened was – Murphy struck – in the form of the highly inefficient and unimaginative ivinca. And everything that could go wrong, pretty much did.

Sri Lanka itself falls flat, especially on the visual front, if you have traveled a lot within India – the feel of being in rural India, say a cleaner Kerala never left us through our time in the country. And for all that, given the kind of things I had been hearing and reading about it, I felt that it did not match those expectations.

However, what I did love about being in Sri Lanka was the buzz in the country about a peaceful and prosperous future – I was lucky to be there at the right time and the enthusiasm of a country that is enjoying peace after prolonged war is infectious. I also stayed at some wonderful hotels and resorts across the country (places I had chosen from user reviews on the internet – since the choices offered by ivinca had terrible reviews everywhere).

Anyway, I am back and still bitter about that experience – what irks me more than anything else was the initial response to my feedback from the partners at ivinca. It is just.not.acceptable. to not take responsibility for your mistakes – and it is worse to try passing it on to the customer. A customer who has paid big bucks for a premium package, I may add.

Here are some tips for you from a travel-agent-weary traveler, for what it is worth:

1. Choose wisely – Trust your initial impressions and judgment about the travel company / person you choose – I ignored my instincts that screamed that they were clueless but given my situation then, I went ahead. Talk to your agents, if possible, meet them a couple of times to discuss the itinerary together – and make sure that they are intelligent and understand your needs and expectations. This, I cannot stress enough, is critical.

2. Double check on the vehicle – If you are paying for a car and / or driver – check before you leave on what kind of car you are getting – we paid for a large car and ended up with a large car that was twelve years old – my husband and I were the only properly-functioning elements inside the car (and that too, not all the time!) – and this is in a country of swanky Mercedes and Toyotas for tourists.

3. Agree on your guide’s role – Have you paid for a guide? Is the driver going to act as your tour guide – according to the package? Do confirm these – since we paid for a driver-guide and ended up having to look for a separate guide at some places since our man did not feel inclined to step out of the car in the rain on those days.

We also ended up skipping a couple of important places from our itinerary thanks to, again, our guide’s machinations – and at that time, there was not much we could do to actually force him. In such cases, my advice to you is to call your agent and demand a replacement or repair of the situation. It is not a time to be nice or resigned (we were both, unfortunately).

4. Be prepared – Rain reminds me – there is nothing you can do about the weather – but do check likely weather conditions (especially possibility of rain) before you leave – and be prepared. Luckily for us, by the time we left for the hills, the skies had cleared up and we spent three glorious days among the tea plantations of Nuwara Eliya.

5. Do your own research – Even if you go through a so-called trip planner, spend some time on the internet or asking friends who have traveled to the place for suggestions – what to do, and equally importantly, what not, special places to see, unmissables and suchlike.

For instance, December, when we went to Sri Lanka, is prime time to spot migratory whales on the Southern beaches. And our blessed holiday-planners had no idea – they did not suggest it (how could they – when they drafted my itinerary, none of them had actually visited Sri Lanka!), and in my lack of time, I had not bothered to ask around. By the time, I read about it and heard about it from several friends – as a total must-do, it was too late – our hotels were booked and there was no way of changing plans without a significant loss of money.

6. Discuss meal plans – About the hotels you finally choose, do check for proximity from tourist spots and places of your interest – what I mean is, we ended up in hotels that were gorgeous (Amaya Lake, Tea Factory) but miles from anywhere – including anywhere that serves food. And we were on an only-breakfast plan – combine this isolation with an uncooperative driver and you get a situation where you are forced to eat all meals at the hotel – and pay top-end, ridiculous hotel rates for food that you would rather avoid. By all means, choose the resorts and hotels that appeal to you, but discuss your meal plans with your travel agent – in case of far-flung locations, I recommend throwing in atleast one meal, say, dinner, along with your breakfast.

7. Avoid ivinca – After all this, I have only one bit of advice left – do not use ivinca. I regretted the day I decided to use their services for a holiday I was so looking forward to. Better holidays in every way? Sorry, but do you mean bitter?

As an aside, I find that my name used to feature on the blogroll of the ivinca blog – and has since disappeared. Shame on you, ivinca!

Also read: I had read this post about the tricks tour companies play – only I had never thought I would one day fall prey to these. Such is life…