Journey on the Orient Express

SINGAPORE -  When you reach a certain age and life becomes precarious, some resort to making bucket lists. (It comes from kick the bucket, another expression for dying). The list is about fulfilling wishes before the end comes. The inference is that with little time left we have to cram the wishes into a list.

Last week I fulfilled one item in my bucket list  a journey through Asia on board the Orient Express. It is a birthday gift from my daughter. The journey begins in Wang Po Station in Bangkok and ends in Singapore after ambling through mountains, rivers, fields and historical townships in luxury and style.

*      *      *

The train we took, Eastern and Oriental Express, is sister to the older Venice Simplon Oriental Express made famous by Agatha Christie’s “Murder on the Orient Express.” One of its routes is from Paris to Istanbul and that is as far as the Orient goes.

But its Asian version is a 1,233 mile-journey of beautiful Eastern countryside traveling through several countries. These had both similar and differing landscapes. You knew when you were leaving one to enter another. All this done in surroundings of comfort, luxury and gourmet meals. Once as a young struggling journalist I had taken the train from East Berlin past Checkpoint Charlie and then all the way to Moscow in more modest circumstances. So it was a vindication of sorts to travel in style in old age. Seasoned travel writers have long said that rail is the best way to travel because you are never out of touch with life and people as you move from country to country.

This journey went through Thailand, Malaysia ending in Singapore. (It was only later that I would know it was a historic event since it was the first Eastern and Oriental Express to arrive at the new Woodlands Station. Until 30 June 2011, the journey for the train would have ended in Singapore’s 1932 art deco railway station in the heart of the city on Keppel Road. This shift was made after decades of negotiation with Malaysia but that is another story).

*      *      *

I think one of the great come-ons of the Oriental Express is the train itself  beautifully paneled in rosewood and Elmwood in the dining rooms and teakwood in the narrow corridors. Its luxury is well known. For me, it was one thing to pack formal clothes for dinner (finding it slightly ridiculous) until I saw how it all matched with the silver and wineglasses. It was de rigueur in the train’s luxurious dining room with lady passengers in formal dresses and the gentlemen in black tie. To think that when we hopped on the train in Wang Po we were dressed in jeans.

The executive chef for the journey was Yannis Matineau who had worked with the famous Paul Bocuse. The menus were feasts of his talents. I memorized some dishes that I could try cooking at home ­ the poached eggs with asparagus on freshly baked brioche with Hollandaise sauce and crispy bacon and the tom yam capuccino  a blend of French haute cuisine with the Thai national dish.

We wondered how it was possible for the kitchen to be equipped with only the freshest of ingredients. Was food loaded on the train when we made stops? The meals were made from the finest fresh seasonal ingredients. With a chef like Mr. Matineau it was inconceivable that he would settle for less. The dinners on the Orient Express can compare with the world’s finest gourmet restaurants. Lunch and dinner were served in the three restaurant cars. Breakfast was served in the cabin by Woody, the valet in our section. I woke up to the smell of brewed coffee. Some of the passengers chose to have their breakfast in the observation car.

The compartments are small, only 62 square feet with its own wash basin, wc and shower. How the designers packed all the luxury of a six-star hotel room in the small space is the wonder. Its complimentary toiletries were from Bulgari. Light green bathrobes and slippers were hung from sweet smelling cabinets. Indeed the entire compartment smelled of sampaguita with a bouquet placed on the bed after it has been made. The small space taught me to take a shower while the train chugged along. 

There was no escaping from the exercise of walking from one end of the train to the other three dining rooms, a bar with a pianist and an open air observation car. The observation car is located at the very end of the train to give the passengers a good view of the landscapes and spectacular views. It had an interior section where cocktails are served in a colonial-styled ‘veranda’. It was a treat for photographers who wanted unobstructed views. All the passengers flocked to the car when the train traversed slowly through the fragile 300-meter wooden trestle bridge. It had precariously clung to a limestone cliff along the Kwai Noi river.

This was made famous by David Niven’s Bridge of the River Kwai. It has a long story about war, death and imprisonment for thousands of soldiers both foreign and local but it is the song that is remembered.

A pity it was night when we crossed the mountain borders between Thailand and Malaysia so we were not able to see the drama of passing through rugged mountains, but I had a fitful sleep wondering what caused it. From the border the train ambled through more rainforests, rice fields and palm plantations as it headed for Butterworth station in Georgetown on Penang island, a heritage site with colonial houses still intact. We toured the city in rickshaws and I was surprised to hear the guides call Penang the “Pearl of the Orient.”

Most impressive of the many mosques and colonial buildings in the old township was the Khoo Kongsi. It is a large Chinese clan house with elaborate and highly ornamented architecture, a mark of the dominant presence of the Chinese in Penang. It is described as the grandest clan temple in the country. It belonged to one of the richest Chinese families who settled in the island at the time. It is located in Cannon Square in the heart of the oldest part of the city.

All in all, it was a memorable journey. But in the train’s library, a fortuneteller surprised me. She took my hand and said “very long lifeline”. It could not be an item in a bucket list.