Travellers' Tales
What's wrong with my durian?
Unexpected Encounters in Asia, by Anja Latacz
There are two things you cannot take onto a plane in Asia: weapons and durian.
Now, there are two aspects which aggravates this reality which is a) I love durian, this at times a bit smelly but delicious fruit if fresh, and, honestly, b) I had not been aware that the ‘no durian’ rule would be as strictly enforced as the ‘no weapon’ rule, as only the latter is publicly advertised.
Minutes before leaving for Phnom Penh airport, I had taken advantage of the last opportunity to purchase two appetising pieces of durian at a nearby supermarket. The seller vacuum-packed the fruit and made perfectly sure that not the slightest smell would escape.
This delicious package was quickly slipped into the last space in the upper part my backpack with the intention to enjoy it at a later stage of my journey, i.e. during a stop-over at Bangkok airport.
Honestly, I did not think of it at all when queuing up for tightened hand luggage security inspections in the aftermath of terrorist attacks.
Every passenger’s, even elderly ladies’ hand bags, were opened and every part in it was scrutinised for offensive items such as nail clippers and letter openers, in these times of aggravated terrorism risk.
Sweat began to drip from my forehead: did I carry any of the forbidden items on me? The wood-carved pen that I had bought in Indonesia months ago sprang to mind. Of course, I did not want to be exposed in public, for such items, and then garnering all those all too common suspicious views from my fellow passengers.
“Madam, what is this?“ the security officer called out spotting the durian in the upper section my backpack, “you cannot take this into the plane !”
I was in shock. “What’s wrong with the durian?” I exclaimed in surprise.” “No durian in plane, madam,“ he insisted. “But this one is tightly wrapped, no smell,” I diligently explained, “and it is not precisely a weapon”. But no, the officer showed no clemency, though coming from a country of durian-lovers himself.
Dozens pairs of eyes in my immediate vicinity stared at me; the moment of shame had arrived. I felt ostracised and utterly embarrassed. Based on my delinquency I was being lumped together with villains, and the gapes of the other passengers made me feel like one.
“But what shall I do, Sir?” I exasperatedly asked. “Well, either you rush back into the terminal and quickly gulp it down, or you give it to me!”
Considering the long queue that had emerged behind me, I was quick to take my decision. “Bon Appétit, officer, “I exclaimed in Khmer language, passing and hurrying into the far back of the plane - hoping I would not be blacklisted for a serious durian offence by the airline.
As far as I know, the ‘no-durian’ rule, even shrink wrapped, remains in force today.
Unexpected Encounters in Asia, by Anja Latacz
There are two things you cannot take onto a plane in Asia: weapons and durian.
Now, there are two aspects which aggravates this reality which is a) I love durian, this at times a bit smelly but delicious fruit if fresh, and, honestly, b) I had not been aware that the ‘no durian’ rule would be as strictly enforced as the ‘no weapon’ rule, as only the latter is publicly advertised.
Minutes before leaving for Phnom Penh airport, I had taken advantage of the last opportunity to purchase two appetising pieces of durian at a nearby supermarket. The seller vacuum-packed the fruit and made perfectly sure that not the slightest smell would escape.
This delicious package was quickly slipped into the last space in the upper part my backpack with the intention to enjoy it at a later stage of my journey, i.e. during a stop-over at Bangkok airport.
Honestly, I did not think of it at all when queuing up for tightened hand luggage security inspections in the aftermath of terrorist attacks.
Every passenger’s, even elderly ladies’ hand bags, were opened and every part in it was scrutinised for offensive items such as nail clippers and letter openers, in these times of aggravated terrorism risk.
Sweat began to drip from my forehead: did I carry any of the forbidden items on me? The wood-carved pen that I had bought in Indonesia months ago sprang to mind. Of course, I did not want to be exposed in public, for such items, and then garnering all those all too common suspicious views from my fellow passengers.
“Madam, what is this?“ the security officer called out spotting the durian in the upper section my backpack, “you cannot take this into the plane !”
I was in shock. “What’s wrong with the durian?” I exclaimed in surprise.” “No durian in plane, madam,“ he insisted. “But this one is tightly wrapped, no smell,” I diligently explained, “and it is not precisely a weapon”. But no, the officer showed no clemency, though coming from a country of durian-lovers himself.
Dozens pairs of eyes in my immediate vicinity stared at me; the moment of shame had arrived. I felt ostracised and utterly embarrassed. Based on my delinquency I was being lumped together with villains, and the gapes of the other passengers made me feel like one.
“But what shall I do, Sir?” I exasperatedly asked. “Well, either you rush back into the terminal and quickly gulp it down, or you give it to me!”
Considering the long queue that had emerged behind me, I was quick to take my decision. “Bon Appétit, officer, “I exclaimed in Khmer language, passing and hurrying into the far back of the plane - hoping I would not be blacklisted for a serious durian offence by the airline.
As far as I know, the ‘no-durian’ rule, even shrink wrapped, remains in force today.
The King of Tonga
Unexpected Encounters by Anja Latacz
I have been to many countries during my work to advance development in countries in Asia and the Pacific but when the opportunity to travel to Tonga presented itself – I took it with no questions asked.
I had heard about a Kingdom in the Pacific, randomly, from time to time that had been independent all along: the Kingdom of Tonga.
This island nation had an air of tradition and beauty attached, and my first thought was: would I be able to meet the King of Tonga?
The plane softly touched down in the evening, and I was taken to the hotel at the correct speed of 40 kmh from Nuku’alofa International Airport - under thousands of bright stars -, which took about 50 minutes to arrive. Yes, time ticks differently in Tonga.
What I had researched beforehand was that the country actually has 176 islands spread over the Pacific Ocean, and I had landed on the main island: Tongatapu.
Getting out the next day was truly exciting, seeing people wearing straw mats around their waists (men and women alike) and the many churches that were built by truthfully religious inhabitants.
So there I was, strolling down the beach front, where most of the Government offices, also the King’s Palace, were located. Small islands with palms could be seen in the distance.
These spots on the horizon were part of the destination that the Tonga Tourism Office advertises as Paradise in the Pacific, only that I did not have the time to visit them – this time.
On a mission to understand how Climate Change may affect the many islands of Tonga, I was taken around by James (or Mr Semilis) who was still looking forward to one day marry a nice woman and have children.
“How can I meet the King?,” I asked. His reply was prompt: “Just come to Church with me on Sunday. We will go to attend mass at the King’s Church!”.
Although no one works on a Sunday in Tonga, all shops and nearly all restaurants are closed, he promised to pick me up for the big adventure of my lifetime…
Having waited - properly dressed and kempt some 50 minutes after the promised hour, he indeed turned up in his taxi, only to give me the sad news that he was told that King George V was abroad ! I dropped mass that day - spending it in slight disappointment at a local expat coffee shop.
When I entered this very coffee shop, I noticed a group of middle aged women, and one of them, seated at the top of the table, smiled at me. A bit later I was told that it was indeed the Princess that had just smiled at me ! At least, I had met a Princess, if it had not to be the King, I thought to myself.
I returned home one day after the big earthquake had hit Japan, triggering a Tsunami in the Pacific Ocean, and learned that all residents of Nuku’alofa had to gather at the King’s residence (a Tsunami safe house) and spend the night there.
I was relieved I was able to leave before the tsunami, which fortunately did not affect Tonga that much.
I saw King George V again on the telly, attending the British Royal Wedding in London, but next time I travel to Tonga, I will make sure beforehand that he is there, when I visit.
I still have a dream !
I have been to many countries during my work to advance development in countries in Asia and the Pacific but when the opportunity to travel to Tonga presented itself – I took it with no questions asked.
I had heard about a Kingdom in the Pacific, randomly, from time to time that had been independent all along: the Kingdom of Tonga.
This island nation had an air of tradition and beauty attached, and my first thought was: would I be able to meet the King of Tonga?
The plane softly touched down in the evening, and I was taken to the hotel at the correct speed of 40 kmh from Nuku’alofa International Airport - under thousands of bright stars -, which took about 50 minutes to arrive. Yes, time ticks differently in Tonga.
What I had researched beforehand was that the country actually has 176 islands spread over the Pacific Ocean, and I had landed on the main island: Tongatapu.
Getting out the next day was truly exciting, seeing people wearing straw mats around their waists (men and women alike) and the many churches that were built by truthfully religious inhabitants.
So there I was, strolling down the beach front, where most of the Government offices, also the King’s Palace, were located. Small islands with palms could be seen in the distance.
These spots on the horizon were part of the destination that the Tonga Tourism Office advertises as Paradise in the Pacific, only that I did not have the time to visit them – this time.
On a mission to understand how Climate Change may affect the many islands of Tonga, I was taken around by James (or Mr Semilis) who was still looking forward to one day marry a nice woman and have children.
“How can I meet the King?,” I asked. His reply was prompt: “Just come to Church with me on Sunday. We will go to attend mass at the King’s Church!”.
Although no one works on a Sunday in Tonga, all shops and nearly all restaurants are closed, he promised to pick me up for the big adventure of my lifetime…
Having waited - properly dressed and kempt some 50 minutes after the promised hour, he indeed turned up in his taxi, only to give me the sad news that he was told that King George V was abroad ! I dropped mass that day - spending it in slight disappointment at a local expat coffee shop.
When I entered this very coffee shop, I noticed a group of middle aged women, and one of them, seated at the top of the table, smiled at me. A bit later I was told that it was indeed the Princess that had just smiled at me ! At least, I had met a Princess, if it had not to be the King, I thought to myself.
I returned home one day after the big earthquake had hit Japan, triggering a Tsunami in the Pacific Ocean, and learned that all residents of Nuku’alofa had to gather at the King’s residence (a Tsunami safe house) and spend the night there.
I was relieved I was able to leave before the tsunami, which fortunately did not affect Tonga that much.
I saw King George V again on the telly, attending the British Royal Wedding in London, but next time I travel to Tonga, I will make sure beforehand that he is there, when I visit.
I still have a dream !
