Cruise Bali-Lombok-Java-Singapore 11-26/02/2013

Foreword: At the request of some who wanted a more complete travelogue, but keeping my perspective in mind (reflections, thoughts on the tourist trade, Indonesia, luxury cruising these days, and interesting details that caught my eye…), this will be a rather long piece. I also reflect on luxury cruises in light of my past as a cruise director. Anyone who has read my book "Tourist Traps but Me" can consider this column a kind of sequel.

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Introduction : After more than 20 years, I'm going back on a cruise, this time as a passenger. I retired from a five-star-plus Cunard ship as Cruise Director (due to my recent marriage). So we decided to do it in style and go for the best of the best. It's Silversea ******, the award-winning top company in the luxury segment. Because we also realize that, if I forget the work-related trips back then and traveling with a daughter, Nella and I were never really on a honeymoon alone. So we'll just call it "our honeymoon"... The tickets arrive in a beautiful silver box with a gorgeous leather bag containing all the documents, including large leather luggage tags.

The route : Benoa (Bali) > Tanah Tampo (Bali): not done, jetty washed away by small tsunami > Lembar (Lombok) > Probolingo > Semarang (Borobodur) > Jakarta (Java) > Bangka Island (Indonesia) jetty also washed away > Singapore.

Escape to Bali . We're leaving three days early, the flight is much cheaper, and with the money we won, we can stay in Bali practically for free. We choose the beautiful Sanur again, but in the more modest Hotel Parigati, right next to the spectacularly beautiful Bali Hyatt we stayed at a few years ago. Since we'd already visited all the highlights of Bali during our two-week stay, we're focusing on pure, peaceful enjoyment.

We took the high-speed train to Düsseldorf, where we flew with KLM around 6:40 PM via Amsterdam, stopping in Singapore, and on to Denpasar. It started well. We'd barely left when the Pope decided to abdicate. Düsseldorf Airport was relatively new and clearly "bought for growth," but sterile. During the night flight, I watched some movies. I finally saw Vinterberg's powerful "Jagten," "Lincoln" (which I find overrated), and the Hitchcock biopic. However, there were a pity there weren't enough reclining seats for a 16.5-hour flight.

As we feel the warmth descend on us and a taxi takes us to the charming town of Parigata, we immediately feel exotically happy, and the beautiful memories overwhelm us in every detail. I make short work of the visa application and the taxi bidding process because I know exactly the right price (internet!). The receptionist greets me with a broad smile, "Welcome Mister Wiiim!", and a fruit punch. It's 9:30 pm, so we need to eat quickly. Free Wi-Fi is available everywhere, and after a late local meal around the corner, we Skype (7-hour time difference) with our daughter Tanya on Erasmus in Lugano, Switzerland, who appears to be doing well.

Up early the next morning. First, watch the sunrise. We've been close to the equator the entire trip, so sunrise around 6:20 a.m. and sunset around 6:25 p.m. Then, as quickly as possible, into the refreshing pool—essentially a lukewarm bouillon cube—where, amidst the water spouting water spirits and the inevitable waterfall—it's raining!—I'm as happy as a child. Breakfast. Modest in terms of choice. Yet again, people artfully charging their plates. A feast for the eyes. Then quickly off to the ATM and buy Rupiahs. Thanks to my converter app, it's converted quickly, because €1 is approximately 12,657 Rupiahs (IDR). Otherwise, it's constant math. Our first activity was to go to Gina, who offers deep body massages on the beach for €4 an hour. Things seem to have changed, but we still find her and let her staff massage us in the air conditioning, but with the scent of the sea.

Then I immediately go to my beloved simple beach bar, but the girls from back then are no longer there and it has been taken over by a somewhat eccentric-looking but friendly couple from… Nieuwpoort!

They gave themselves two years to succeed here, sacrificing three hospitality businesses to do so. A jungle of administration, navigating local customs, paying dues, and learning Balinese in no time. And you have to make sure you're on good terms with the local community, the Banjar, because they decide everything. If you don't, forget it. Quickly providing fully integrated work to a large staff who don't have to adopt Flemish management principles is a must. But look what I get in return, says Frederiek, pointing to the colorful surroundings, the sea, the lush vegetation, and the climate.

The people of Bali are also very friendly and relatively unintrusive compared to elsewhere in the world. This is partly due to the large Hindu population, who constantly bring small offerings of flowers, plants, fruits, and incense to their thousands of altars, as well as their tolerance of various other religions. Indonesia experts warned us: the other islands are predominantly Muslim, and the behavioral changes are the same.

I'm sipping on the Bintang beers (Bintang = star, their Stella, that is) that go down like water and, by the way, cost more than my delicious veggie curry, which I ordered extra spicy (€3). I'm going to burn all that Belgian filth out of my body, no! A major overhaul for my ecosystem.

We continue to seize the day. Strolling along the sea in the scorching heat, finally taking a nap in our cool room. Overcoming jet lag means un-jet lag. Escaping winter means immediately begging for air conditioning. Unfortunately, travel rule no. 568 comes into effect. Call reception in the morning if something's broken, tell them there's no rush and you won't be in your room all morning, and they'll come... right. I also note that despite years of experience and the use of all the necessary contraceptives, there it is again: Wim's bright red nose.

In the evening, we set off on a shopping spree because my daughter absolutely had to find some cheap Chanelle. Aside from the lively, charming atmosphere along the streets, this is a low point for me, but come on, the atmosphere is enchanting. We decline every minute, and I have to laugh at the "Tourist Office." It's just a stall on the street with all sorts of flyers, usually near a car rental company.

We're looking for the little restaurant where we used to have some really good meals. The setting is the same, the food delicious, but everything is more Westernized and touristy, with the hateful laminated pictures of dishes and a door-toting woman. I also have no interest in an Australian crooning Creedence on electric guitar. We both crave the gamelan sounds (an orchestra consisting of various types of xylophones, among other things), which are so mysterious and zen-like, soothing.

But we realize that here too, the authentic character will soon be lost in the giant globalization gulp. The food, for example, is unfortunately no longer 100% what they once cooked and offered, but what they think we think they should prepare and how we want it presented. I always find that a real shame. And confusing too: a beer costs IDR 32,000 somewhere, IDR 32,000 elsewhere, but sir, plus 12% government tax and 5% service tax. Then another 32,000 elsewhere + 21% government tax. How does that work here? Ah, in paradise, that should be possible.

The next morning, at the pool. A few Michelin-cloon women stroll around, flanked by men with sprouting gray chest hair, worn high above a well-meaning peak. I prick up my ears and hear Danish, French, Australian (logically, Bali is what Tenerife is to Europeans), and, red code alert… Russians. Although they apparently only come here to "live" in the pool, I still wouldn't want to be in Kuta (the resort town of Kuta is also the island's lively nightlife center). And all the old people here are sitting in lounge chairs with iPads. Even this old guy.

Freedom is having your own space, always and everywhere. Soon on the cruise! But here, they're thinking strategically. They've found a chair in the shade, but soon the sun will be out. Worries. Hence the towel accounting. At first, there seems to be a system behind it. Every pair of pool towels is recorded per room. Then, later in the day, no one bothers to look at them, and everyone just does as they please. Bali and tolerance. There's a pool attendant who supposedly keeps an eye on things to make sure everything runs according to the rules, but will never say a word because if a customer complains about him, he'll lose his job. But what's he for? Everywhere it says, for example: take a shower first. Why am I always the only one who actually does that?

Everyone here has a job, albeit poorly paid, but the execution is questionable, to say the least. For instance, there are guards everywhere. But the purpose of it all escapes me sometimes. Baggage screening and a metal detector at the main entrance of the Bali Hyatt provide a bit of a security show, but anyone can walk straight into the hotel unhindered for 400 meters along the beach. When I point out their signature House Cocktails to the bartender and pick out a "Sunset on Bali," he frantically starts searching for a manual, running back and forth for advice, only to tell me 15 minutes later that a certain ingredient is no longer available.

Shrug. But nice tropical names, yes. Not the usual ones like in Albufeira (the Algarve's mass tourist hotspot): cocktails with names like Viagra, Orgasm, and so on. A nice touch on the bar list: under the Scotch whisky section, it says: Johnny Walker, J&B, Canadian, and Irish Whisky (without the final e). But spelling mistakes abound: a fish meunière with an escalope, que?, turns out to be fish escalope, of course.

We have an appointment with Made Catra, our private guide from back then. On the second day, the ship departs for Tanah Ampo in East Bali. We'd already visited many places in that area, such as the courthouse in Klungklung (gorgeous wall paintings) and the self-sufficient pre-Hindu village of Tenganan, but had never been to the Besikah Mother Temple at Mount Agung. From Tanah Ampo, that would have been ideal, and Made took us on a trip that included some things we'd never seen before. Note that excursions on board are very expensive, precisely because many of these passengers absolutely do not want to be confronted with hassle and chaos and demand the best, smoothest travel conditions. But that's not my travel philosophy.

Unfortunately, just before the cruise, we had an itinerary change. It turned out there had been a small tsunami in Indonesia, and the jetty (mooring) had washed away, so sloops could no longer be tendered. The same applied to the rather inaccessible and therefore non-touristy Bangka Island, which I was really looking forward to. A forlorn, large sandy beach with Seychelles-like round rocks. Well, I've always been a Robinson Crusoe or Columbus inside me. This was, call it, minimal compensation. Also because it was a nice contrast or addition to the balance of the cruise. After the busy, hectic metropolis of Jakarta, there was some peaceful natural beauty and simple freshness. Unfortunately, the jetty there too had been washed away. My thought: I really need to explore the "undiscovered" again or build a treehouse ;-). Boys, wake up call J.

What else can I do? Paragliding (on the southern peninsula) is also out of the question: a nasty westerly wind. It's a real shame for Made, which is desperate for business. And complains. But bar owner Frederiek tells me later, "There's a slump in tourism and it's low season, but they're like the hospitality industry on our coast; they complain as soon as they can." Belgian common sense. I immediately order a Bintang beer.

We went for another massage because you can't beat the price. Afterward, we hydrated at Komilfo , Frederiek and Miyu's place. I had a cocktail with Bali rum and lots of fresh fruit mix. It's Valentine's Day today, and Frederiek is taking his staff and their sweethearts to McDonald's tonight. They're thrilled. It's such a special occasion for them, even if they have to wait in line for an hour and just order rice and chicken. The McDonald's wrappers will live a long life as souvenirs in their homes. McDonald's on Valentine's Day—it's something different.

We ourselves are tempted to do "something." Honeymoon, Valentine's Day, a romantic setting... Our hotel advertises a Valentine's Day dinner with an orchestra and dance. The menu is clearly much more expensive than elsewhere, it looks poorly organized, with streamers and hearts straight out of kindergarten. They don't seem to have a good grasp of everything yet, but we're close to our room, it's the last night, and what the hell... We'll see... We eat a kind of pumpkin soup and grilled fish. The evening with an Asian one-man orchestra rapping classical songs in phonetic English attracted four couples. Valentine's Day that exudes sadness. But we look at it from a humorous perspective. Harry Belafonte's Jamaica Farewell, the Caribbean hit on Valentine's Day in Bali? When a couple leaves the table in the middle of their meal, a waiter runs after them in panic. Where are you going? "We're going dancing, sir."

The Silversea Experience . The next morning I buy some nice, comfortable polo shirts and swim trunks. The haggling game. Small percentages, rich guys, and Nella in a merciless leading role. Then off to the port of Benoa and the cruise ship Silver Shadow .

Super-efficient check-in, flashing smiles and greetings, and after quick photos were taken of us, I'll be constantly greeted by everyone socially relevant for the rest of the cruise with "Good morning, Mr. Wim" or "Evening, Mr. Vènbussien," even if I've never seen them before. This is the system we implemented back in the five-starplus operation. At this level, we know who every guest is and what they want. After one visit to the bar, they remember all your favorite drinks or suggest ones to suit your mood, such as a Sea Breeze. Pour it out, Russell!

We're greeted by Heri Kupaeri, our petite Indonesian butler with a black swallowtail, a large white bow tie, and adorable floppy ears, who guides us through our initial choices: which bathroom amenities line, from six to choose from? We choose Bulgari. What type of pillow do we want? Another six (all described in detail), and what drinks or snacks do we want in our refrigerator at all times? Mineral water, soft drinks, beer, but also champagne and fine wines. I suggest, "Maybe a small whiskey for a late-night nightcap on our veranda?" I'm promptly given a large bottle of Johnny Walker Black, which I wouldn't touch on the entire cruise.

The deal on six-star ships is simple: everything is included, except for laundry, casino, wellness, the onboard boutiques (including an H. Stern), Wi-Fi, and excursions. And dining at the intimate Le Champagne restaurant by Relais & Chateaux, where you have to pay a little extra for even more refined and sophisticated food, and the chance to enjoy more exclusive wines, cognacs, and cigars is possible, but for a small surcharge after reservation. Securing a seat proves difficult. But my old reputation precedes me, and we receive various services in succession: free laundry, 500 minutes of free Wi-Fi worth $170, $200 credit to our account (so, free spending excluding the casino), one free dinner at Le Champagne, and a few other things.

With that $200, Nella will buy four Harrods bags, as they're currently on sale, and go on an excursion together. We'll book an evening at Le Champagne, and the Wi-Fi is, of course, very important to us. But via satellite, it's much more difficult and slower than on land. Plus, there's the whole meter system and the calculation of block purchases, which I consider the only downside on board. Upon arrival, our credit card was registered, and everything is automatically debited. Ultimately, it would only be a few hundredths of dollars at the end. As a repeater, you also get bonuses quickly. For example, I met guests who were looking to quickly use up $1,000 in credit towards the end of the cruise.

That first evening, we attend the staff and lecturer performance in the Panorama Lounge, and the six singer-entertainers, Wendee, Anastasia, Kashena, Jonathan, and Kyle (all Americans), conclude with an impressive "Brindiamo" from "La Traviata." We toast, indeed. Then we visit The Bar and The Restaurant for a delicious dinner, accompanied by a variety of wines constantly suggested to us, so much so that we even take photos with our iPhones to remember them for another occasion. Afterwards, there's a Balinese show that we find utterly pathetic compared to the spectacular and acrobatic performances we've seen before, and we happily curl up in the softest bed ever. Because, until now, we hadn't had a good night's sleep. Vigilo, ergo sum. No idea why.

Breakfast at La Terraza is a treat. Finally, the coffee we really crave, and there's a plethora of hot dishes prepared on the spot. Your plate is then invariably brought to your table by a waiter, chair under you and napkin on top. You truly get the table you request. The maître d', especially Marcello (a very entertaining Italian), must be masters of their craft. We decide to eat outside, although the panorama is everywhere through the large windows. Because the ship will be in Benoa for an extra day due to the route change, we enjoy the ship's facilities.

I occasionally attend activities, take a dip in the pool or jacuzzi, a quick sunbath, read my book "Back to Blood" by Tom Wolfe (another hit!), or pick from the beautifully presented fruit platter in the suite. Every day, all sorts of fresh, sometimes pre-cut, exotic fruits, including snake and dragon fruit. Butler Heri practically begs us to ask him for things, and even if I don't, my evening shoes always turn out to be scrubbed and shaped. When he apparently heard about the honeymoon, we found a bath full of fragrant foam, surrounded by rose petals and candles. True luxury service is anticipating what someone might want.

In the afternoon, we bumped into Captain Cataldo Destefano, who confided, "I read your CV." Apparently, everyone... Nella is from the region where he was also born (Barletta). I decided to drop my joke about the name Schettino. That evening was a gala, and of course, I was invited to the honorary table of cruise director James "Jimmy" Hovel from Connecticut via an official invitation. I put on one of the only tuxedos of the many from my old days that I still (barely) fit into, and we put on makeup. It had a very unusual, short, elegant jacket with black and gray stripes. In the hallway, Heri called out, "I love your tailcoat." Well, that's clear. Heri is gay. Not a gift for a Muslim.

The obligatory handshakes and pleasantries. For the first time in my life, I experience the line with the captain, hotel manager, and CD on the other side. Then, in the theater, the officers' introduction, which even includes a joke I'd made 20 years ago, but it's over quickly. We dine with CD Jimmy and Mr. and Mrs. Bloom, who don't eat much more than tomatoes and don't drink alcohol. I have a few interesting exchanges with Jimmy about being a cruise director, and afterward, we go to the opening show. The singing is magnificent in a theater with state-of-the-art technology that many venues could learn from, but ultimately, it's not up to the standard of Cunard back then. Well, my ship, the Vistafjord, was twice the size back then. Shows featured a live 8-piece band with click track and dazzling dance and effects, which is absent here. But hey, that's not why we're here. Just to explain that an average cruise ship has one crew member for every three passengers. In the luxury segment, that used to be 1 for 2. But here it's 1 for 1, and the Shadow carries a maximum of 350 guests. A very livable situation with ample space and staff available everywhere. You'll never get me on those vulgar mass ships where style is negated by quality-delusions of grandeur.

The Silver Shadow is 186 meters long and 25 meters wide, has a beautiful interior design, and is filled with authorized artworks by Chagall, Picasso, Miro, and others. It also features superb photographs I'd never seen before, including Marilyn Monroe by Milton Greene and others, for sale, starting at an average of $10,000. The art dealer in charge, Rami Ron, says he's making people rich, but they don't even realize it.

Afterwards, we head to the bar where, before we know it, we're freaking out on the dance floor. On the way to the cabin, Wilma from the small casino bar stops us for an intimate last drink at her bar. I tell her I danced like a maniac, and she says, "I've seen you," with a twinkle. Oh, oh. But I promise: next time!

Lombok . The next morning, another dinner invitation lies next to the newspaper overview, this time from the guest relations manager. I'm up early to explore Lembar on the island of Lombok. Delightful, with creeks everywhere. I watch with interest the smooth tender operation in fully covered boats, the CD announcements, the ship's release, the dispatching of the excursions. A whistle, smooth sailing, wow.

Our itineraries and cruise book warn us about the lack of facilities and the extortionate attitudes in Lombok. Partly to promote the official excursions, of course, but also out of fear that passenger frustrations will backfire on Silversea. I know the drill and will arrange something on the spot. The hall to enter the tenders is practically empty. There's a security check, and there are always bottles of cool water and mini towels to take with you. On the tender, we meet "Teri Milfsud from Gibraltar" and Erik Bruin, a Dutchman who have owned a real estate company in Marbella together for 30 years. We become friends with this flamboyant, spirited couple throughout the cruise. We hit it off immediately, and we decide to go on our own taxi trip together.

Negotiating with dozens of people at a time is a real ordeal. Ridiculous prices are ridiculed, pushy would-be guides are put in their place. Cars are rejected. Eric: "A black van, are you crazy, man?" Finally, we settle on a deal: a few hours of highlights for $50. We're soon dropped off at a pottery shop, "which we can try ourselves," the guide repeats. After three minutes, we want to leave, much to the frustration of our haggler. A little later. "You wanna see pearls?" OK, but two minutes, we spell out. Our idiot solemnly announces as we drive into a luxury store: "You have a whole hour here!" Three minutes later, we're back on the road. Teri has plenty of pearls...

We visit the somewhat dilapidated Lingsar Temple and run into a group of people on the boat excursion, where a friend of Eric's—half of us have been here for a month since Sidney came aboard—tells us about the Mayura Water Palace and Royal Court. It turns out to be worth it after all. A unique setting, exuberant Muslim children jumping in the pool fully clothed, and enough local culture and atmosphere to keep us happy. We decide to head back to catch lunch before 2 p.m. The guide then starts talking about how much we should give him, "because that $50 is just for gas and the driver." We're adamant; a deal's a deal.

In the scorching heat, I slurped some fruit punch before the long return trip to the tender. After a quick shower, we enjoyed a refreshing lunch with our new friends, then retreated for a cool siesta. God bless the air conditioning. The rest of the evening was spent drinking cocktails, meeting loads of great fellow travelers through Teri and Eric, seeing a show, and dancing the disco. Then, feeling quite charged, I ended up at Wilma's house with the Philippines for the ultimate nightcap. It was 2 a.m., damn it. I never do that at home!

Hooray, a day at sea that would end with Teri arranging for us to have a large table next to the pool in the grill restaurant with lecturer and BBC, Discovery, and National Geographic filmmaker/photographer Piet De Vries and his wife (Dutch name, but I speak only Australian). Under the stars, with a symphony of the most delicious steaks grilled on enormous hot stones. Mega filet mignon, New York steak, rib-eye steaks, prawns on the grill, and wines. An experience! In the evening, there's the opera show, which I quite enjoy, and... it's getting late again. Later shows during the cruise: the inevitable Best of Broadway, then Best of Beatles, an ABBA show, and so on.

Java . In Probolinggo, we tender again. Things are better organized at the landing site. The port agent made sure the rickshaws, trikshaw mopeds, and the unusual taxis have a queue. We decide to simply take a rickshaw ride to the center, to the local food market, where vegetables, fruit, butchered meat, and spices in a dark, covered area enchant us. Along the way, everyone waves at us, and we wave back like the queen. It's clear, very few tourists come here. The town itself has nothing, is dusty and impoverished, but hey, we had a good time!

In the evening, we have a delicious dinner at Le Champagne, and as I go to inspect the wine cellar, I hear a familiar language at one of the eight tables: Belgians. Afterward, in the adjacent Connoisseurs Room (aka The Humidor, where Nella often smokes), we meet Luc and Marie-Rose, who will be joining our group for the rest of the trip.

The next day is our double day in Semarang, where we're greeted by folk dancers as we dock. We ordered breakfast in our suite and prepared for departure around 8:00 AM. Our main destination is the mysterious Borobudur, the largest Buddha temple in the world and one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. It's at least three hours away and a transport nightmare. A midland excursion was sold in advance, including an overnight stay at the Hyatt and a visit to Yogyakarta, the cultural and 'royal' capital of Java, not far away. But that trip costs almost $1,000 per person, and you'll inevitably end up in batik shops or factories. And absurd, of course, when your night on board is already paid for. And bus excursions or group visits aren't my thing either.

I asked the shore excursion manager to arrange private transportation; a guide wasn't necessary. But this service, of course, comes at a price. Since the beautiful Hindu temple of Prambanan is also nearby, I decided to do a marathon. We were supposed to leave early in the morning, pick up all sorts of supplies and a picnic lunch in coolers from the ship, and land around 11 p.m. But there was a misunderstanding about the price, which we weren't willing to pay, as Teri and Erik had arranged their own package online well in advance, including overnight accommodation at their own pace, for $300 per person. In the end, we decided to take the official day excursion to Borobudur, a minimum of three hours there and three hours back. There were extra facilities, a private VIP entrance at the site, and, most importantly, escorted by two flashing, siren-wielding police cars that pushed all traffic onto the shoulder. This escort was provided by "Tourist Police" in their sharp uniforms.

It feels like we're statesmen on our way to a world congress. That's about it. On the other hand, the traffic jam caused by the completely inadequate infrastructure for the chaos of pickups, mopeds, trucks, and all sorts of vans is an obstacle that leads to statements like: "You know when you leave but never when you'll return." Our guide, "My name is Budhi, and if I try hard, I might become Buddha," would, to my annoyance, ramble on for almost seven hours, with an annoying laugh every other sentence, because he never says anything funny, and I'm exhausted. On the other hand, I now know everything about Java and its problems, its history, terrorized primarily by volcanic eruptions.

This is how Borobudur (9th century, a nine-story stupa) came to light, covered by lava, and was finally rediscovered in its full glory by UNESCO in 1973-84. Once there, we don sarongs and enjoy climbing into and onto this robust yet magically mysterious monument, taking many beautiful photos, the characteristic bell-like elements of which, against a backdrop of a magnificent panoramic view, are perfect. Or we marvel at the thousands of murals depicting Sidhartha and the many Buddhist references.

Then things get a bit absurd when, at this Buddhist shrine, we hear a mosque calling to prayer in the distance. Lunch is served on a beautiful, airy patio with a colorful Javanese folklore show, a wonderful respite after a few hours of sweating. Then, for the classic "the audience is welcome to join in," Nella is invited (everyone declined) to dance Indonesian with an old man. She's no slouch, and, draped in a green veil, we get Italy dancing the Java. Not being souvenir hunters, we still buy a very nice, charming rykshaw replica and a cute Buddha-shaped ashtray.

On the way back, we experience a shadow puppet show. Typical local culture, and interesting to see how they do it. Just as we're about to return to the bus, where dozens of souvenir vendors are jostling to sell their wares, all hell breaks loose. Tropical. Heavy. Wet. A complete reorganization is initiated to have the buses run under a canopy so passengers can board through the rear door. Silversea passengers aren't allowed to get wet. On the way back, there's the classic traffic chaos, with jams that even the tourist police can't do anything about. When it's completely jammed, it's jammed.

I stare out the window at the lush nature and the chaos surrounding this track. The Dutch roots can still be found here and there in the language: "Practice doctor," "Apothecary," "Restoran," and "Out-of-the-Blue Knalpot?" And what about "Simpatisi paling Indonesia?" At some traffic lights, there are counters counting down the seconds until the light turns green. Not a good idea. With three seconds left, everyone is already starting to get going.

Due to the rain, the evening mega barbecue under the stars on the upper decks was also cancelled. It was supposed to be a party, we were told. But it was replaced by a global cuisine buffet where everyone could take a tour of the spotless galley (kitchens) with various stalls, tables, hot plates, and enjoy the freshly cooked delicacies from all over the world. This time, we're more inclined to grab a quick bite and head to bed early after a tiring day. There, I receive the sad news of the passing of one of my all-time heroes (pdw). The next morning, ashore, I only make it as far as the terminal, where a surprising number of people are enjoying free and faster Wi-Fi without a pay meter.

Jakarta. Buzzing, hectic city. The only way to get outside the port on your own is via a shuttle bus system. It's at least 45 minutes to the city center. Nella, who isn't feeling well, stays on board, and I go out with Teri and Erik. We quickly realize that the best option is a Bluebird taxi, and if you know where you're going, the meter only costs a handful of dollars to share. We wander aimlessly around antique markets, treating the rides as sightseeing, but Jakarta has no compelling or noteworthy sights.

After much ado, I managed to exchange my remaining 1 million-plus rupees (which I had set aside for our Borobudur adventure) at a bank near the enormous Monas Square. This involved a lot of red tape, even requiring me to show my passport, which, of course, I didn't have with me. I managed to get a €50 note and some loose dollars back, and I gave the rest to our butler, Heri, who said that morning: "Finally, Jakkarta" (his home). But he wasn't allowed to disembark. He'd already been here for five months, with one more to go.

More social life on board . We're introduced to the elderly couple Lady Penelope Vernon and Sir Michael, who occupy a suite that would make the average apartment dweller here envious. Teri has a plan: "I'm giving Marcello a hard time!" She wants to arrange a table outside at The Grill by the pool, where the four couples will be joined by four of the entertainers, as they can only be invited by a couple. The underlying idea is to feed these guys and girls, who normally eat in the crew mess, the biggest and juiciest steaks, resulting in a bidding war of orders, which are then pushed to them and voraciously devoured. But as we're leaving for the meeting, a mini-tornado has blown away half the deck furniture, and the rain is pouring.

Confusion reigns. But they persevere, and under a shelter, with the rain just outside, it becomes a bizarre but unforgettable feast. The emaciated Lady Penelope—she doesn't even know how many houses she owns—is an incredible personality. Lively, full of humor, yet utterly aristocratic, classy, she's a joy to be with. She takes photos with an iPad in a Louis Vuitton case, even though she only half knows how it works. But delightful conversations and a savoir faire of British refinement, yet completely herself and incredibly likeable. Every inch a lady. And funny! What a character. Sir Michael, in a pink jacket, also clever but a bit hard of hearing, at one point remarks about her that she's from South Africa, to which the lady replies: "Oh no. That was your first wife!"

The day at sea that replaces Parai Beach on Bangka Island (what a shame) is also the day we cross the equator with the inevitable King Neptune Crossing the Equator Ceremony. A costume party featuring Neptune and his queen, pirates, and mermaids who, in the presence of the captain and under the guidance of the cruise director, accuse victims (who gave their prior approval) or members of the staff of all sorts of funny nonsense or inside jokes, and then have to kiss a giant fish, or Neptune's foot, and then get covered in spaghetti, sauce, and all sorts of junk. In the past, I sometimes played Neptune myself, or the herald announcing everything, happy just to be able to watch. The showers and pool are no longer the place to be for a few hours afterward.

I attend cruise consultant Alessandra's information session about the savings you can get with Silversea, membership in the Venetian Society, and the itineraries of their seven ships, and I admire their incredible marketing.

In the afternoon, we had a quick, refined lunch with the four couples and took many photos, and in the evening, there was the farewell gala. Tuxedos were on, and we shook hands again with the captain and his entourage. The highlight in a packed theater was when a massive crowd of crew members, from suite attendants (cabin stewardesses) to sailors, waitstaff, butlers, and so on, filled the large stage with a flag. Afterwards, a slideshow was shown, projecting numerous passengers and crew members in situations on board or on land on a large screen. The ship's photographer did an incredible photoshoot, and the "ha!"s, "ha!"s, and "oo!"s were in full swing. The delightfully corny "Con te Partiro" (Con te Partiro) actually gave us goosebumps.

We've had our fill of socializing and refuse to accept any invitations before dinner. Just a table for two. Our explanation was that we urgently needed to discuss some things because our daughter had announced she'd be volunteering with poor orphans in Nepal this summer. We simply let ourselves be pampered and went for a complete menu one last time. Everything was listed with the number of calories, fat, carbohydrates, etc., which made me realize I hadn't even actively visited the spa (beauty salon, fitness, and wellness center). I finished with a cheese board, composed by myself with five cheeses I'd never heard of, as a finishing touch. Just a little longer. Then we performed the disappearing act.

Singapore, the Great .

Singapore, in my opinion, is an example of a near-perfect society: clean, crime-free, super-efficient, and modernly organized. The new terminal building, with its numerous yet swift and efficient passport and other security checks, is a jewel of organization. The city is a symphony of contrasts between beautiful old colonial buildings and the most stunning high-rise architecture, skyscrapers with hanging gardens, parks nestled in vaulted balconies alongside traditional old city districts like Little India and Chinatown. The dynamism of Orchard Road, the colonial section, the Merlion statue, wide lanes where traffic flows smoothly, with abundant greenery, parks, water, and countless sights and attractions—the pinnacle of capitalism that works. The secret? Heavy fines for everything. For example, Nella wanted to smoke under an awning while waiting for the bus—we're out in the open, aren't we? Until a resident kindly points out that this isn't allowed and directs her to a sort of central ashtray, some distance away from the awning. Consistently enforce fines, and you could eat off the floor. Well, then I know.

Okay, Nella had never been to Singapore before, so we hopped on the fantastic "topless" open-top double-decker bus. You can hop off at attractions and hop back on again in an extremely efficient system, or take another bus that arrives and departs punctually every 10-15 minutes. It's wonderful to have a complete overview of Singapore city. We stopped at bustling Little India, where I enjoyed a Tiger Beer at a covered food market. In Chinatown, we ate local food in a primitive way, a kind of wontons and meat broth with all sorts of ingredients. Later, we took a taxi to Mount Faber, where we were treated to a mind-blowing view of the city and island. The panorama freak in me, well... freaked out. And the highlight was taking the cable car to Sentosa Island, which I did about 25 years ago. It's been renovated and promises to be an experience with the most stunning views possible. But first, a beer. Completely against my wont in super-touristy sites like this, I forgot to check the price first. It'll be the most expensive beer of my life: SGD 18.80 (Singapore dollars), which is €11.50. Oops.

An added bonus, and what a lovely coincidence, is that the cable car literally glides over our suite and the ship. I can practically jump from our private elevator with a large cup of fruit punch to our little balcony. We're taking photos like crazy: aerial shots of our cruise ship, the vistas, and the swirling Sentosa Island, which has now, unfortunately, bummer..., become an amusement park. Beautifully done, but such a far cry from 25 years ago when we simply strolled to the beach and drank Tigers at a beach bar. Anyway, evolution. Back on board, it was time to pack, say goodbye here and there, and we booked a table at La Terraza, where we'd never dined in the evening. Usually at lunchtime, where, in addition to the freshly prepared, delicious culinary dishes, there's also a pasta corner where they prepare the pasta of the day à la minute just for you. In short, that Italian touch, that's what we're going for...

Home . Last day and disembarkation! We sailed 1,387 nautical miles (which isn't much). The temperature was a constant between 26 and 31°.

On the cruise, we met 10 Belgians. 10 out of 340 people! One of them, the friendly Marc, a former notary in Hasselt, was kind enough to offer to leave our luggage with him at the Raffles Hotel. Everyone here is staying in Singa for a while. However, we hadn't planned anything. Everyone had to disembark at 10:00 AM, and our flight wasn't until 11:15 PM, and these days you can't leave luggage unattended at airports. Problem solved, phew. After a super-smooth disembarkation, we did so, said goodbye to Marc and Nadine at the Raffles, and went for a stroll along the Riverside, full of fun attractions.

We'll see, maybe a boat tour on the river and fill the day that way. After one last delicious Singaporean-Indonesian meal, exhaustion hits our legs. The uncontrollable urge to lie down overwhelms us. We decide to take a taxi to get our luggage and from there to Changi Airport. But we can't check in our luggage and have access to comfortable seats and berths until 7 p.m. What a huge miscalculation. So, we, like wimps in an impossible position, try to sleep on our luggage. After a noodle dish, I watch Lukaku's Sunday goals on TV in a lounge, accompanied by hysterical commentary: "And he's only nineteen!"

Changi really is a fantastic airport. After a long walk through a sea of people, we reach our gate. At 10 p.m., there's such a busy, meandering symphony of people of all races in all sorts of clothing going everywhere, that it really hits me. But everything works like clockwork. The facilities are ultra-modern and perfectly run, and literally everything is taken care of down to the smallest detail. Then, the very thorough security checks again—540 people in a single Boeing, with departure punctually. I'm amused by the three cameras outside the Air France plane (on top of the tail, in the nose, and in the center at the bottom).

Departure becomes such a joyful experience when the engine starts up on the runway. Watching yourself take off. On board, I watch the film "Argo," which won the Oscar for Best Picture less than 24 hours earlier. It's about American hostages escaping Iran by plane... And I'm literally watching it over Iran. In a plane. My way to escape. But I can't sleep despite the 12.5 hours of darkness. We land on time in Paris CDG where, absurdly, at 6:45 a.m., the tangle of people on the way (all trying to freshen up) captivates me. We finally arrive home at 3 p.m. Since checking out on board, we've been on the go for 36 hours.

From 30°C to minus 1°C. I've only gained half a kilo, but my embonpoint is more vibrant than ever. Get to work!

Postscript : Shortly after returning home, we became sick and had a cold, which lasted for over a week. God punished us immediately.

More photos on Flickr .

More about my cruise and international tourism experience in the book "Tourist Trials and Rise: Backpacker Globbetrotter Becomes Luxury Cruise Director . "