VALENTINE’S day

By Stanley Sobari

Valentine’s day customs in Japan and South Korea dictate that only men get gifts on the day. Women have to wait until 14 March, dubbed ‘White Day’, for return consideration. South Koreas also mark a ‘Black Day’ on 14 April, when the luckless in love eat black-bean noodles.

This month in history

March 1717: Turkish baths for the shy

By Stanley Sobari

In 1717, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu was travelling with her husband to Constantinoplae when she visited a bath house in Sofia. Then part of the Ottoman Empire, Bulgaria had taken enthusiastically to the concept of the Turkish bath, in stout British fashion, however, Lady Mary refused to take off her clothes. Her companions took it in their stride, assuming merely that she had been locked in them by her husband as an ingenious method of preserving her chastity. Complied by Fergus Fleming

I WAS IN MY TRAVELLING DRESS, WHICH IS A RIDING dress, and certainly seemed very extraordinary to them. Yet there was not one of them that showed the least surprise or impertinent curiosity, but received me with all the obliging civility possible. I know no European curt where the ladies would have behaved themselves in so polite a manner to a stranger. I believe, in the whole, there were two hundred women, and yet none of those disdainful smiles or satirical whispers that never fail in our assemblies when anybody appears that is not dressed exactly in fashion. They repeated over and over to me: ‘Guzelle, pek gazelle,’ which is nothing but ‘charming, very charming.’ The first sofas were covered with cushions and rich carpets, on which sat the ladies, and on the second their slaves behind them, but without any distinction of rank by their dress, all being in the state of nature, that is, in plain English, stark naked, without any beauty or defect concealed. Yet there was not the least wanton smile or immodest gesture among them. […]

I was here convinced of the truth of a reflection  I had often made, that if it was the fashion to naked, th face would be hardly observed. I perceived that the ladies with finest skins and most delicate shapes had the greatest share of my admiration, though their faces were sometimes less beautiful than those of their companions. To tell you the truth. I had wickedness enough to wish secretly that Mr Gervase [ a society painter] could have been there invisible. I fancy it would have every much improved his art to see so many fine women naked, in different postures, some in conversation, some working, others drinking coffee or sherbert, and many negligently lying on their cushions while their slaves (generally pretty girls of seventeen or eighteen) were employed in braiding their hair in several pretty manners.

In short, ‘tis the women’s coffee house, where all the news of the town is told, scandal invented etc. they generally take this diversion once a week and stay there at least four of five hours, without getting cold by immediate coming out of th hot bath into the cool room. Which was very surprising to me. The lady that seemed the most considerable amongst them entreated me to sit by her and would fain have undressed me for the bath. I excused myself with some difficulty, they being however all so earnest in persuading me. I was at last forced to open my shirt and show them my stays, which satisfied them very well, for I saw they believed I was  so locked up in that machine, that it was not in my power to open it, which contrivance they attributed to my husband. I was charmed with their civility and beauty, and should have been very glad to pass more time with them, but Mr Wortley resolving to pursue his journey the next morning early I was in haste to see ther ruins of Justinian’s church, which did ot afford me so agreeable a prospect as I had left, being little more than a heap of stones.

Lady Mary Wortley Montagu-The Complete Letters, Vol 1: 1708-20 (Oxford University Press, 1965).

Drakenberg, Best for Hiking

By Stanley Sobari

#The view from the hiking trail on the way to Tugela Gorge

THERE can be few more humbling slabs of geography than the Amphitheatre, a mile-high citadel of doom-grey basalt that looms over the Royal Natal National Park. Viewed from the Tugela River’s innocently chuckling lower reaches, this Tolkien-grade fortification looks as portentous as it is.

‘The Amphiteatre is like the mother of South Africa,’ says Ncamy Dlamini. ‘We would have no farms, no food without the rivers that are born up there.’ This is the loftiest stretch of the 600-mile rain factory known in Afrikaans the Drakensberg – The Dragon’s Mountain.

Ncamy is a firefighter. She and her squad are out on a nine-hour training exercise in the park. ‘Most of our fires start with lightning, and spread like it,’ she says. ‘You have to move fast to fight them, and at 3,000 metres altitude that isn’t easy.’ She arches her shoulders against the weight of her backpack. ‘But, you know, this is our homeland. It’s so beautiful and so special, and I am always proud to be protecting it.’

The trek up the Tugel Gorge is by turns benign and wild. The near treeless green valley is punctuated by the exotic blurts of red-spiked bottlebrush trees. Then the vegetation an those black-streaked sandstone flanks close in, and soon the rainforest whoops and croaks are drowned out by the white-noise roar of rapid water.

Boots and socks come off for what the trail map blithely calls a ‘boulder hop’, requiring hikers to zig-zag across the increasingly excitable Tugela. Shed-sized rocks strewn along the tightening cleft pay impressive testament to the river’s full-flow fury: it becomes ever easier to imagine the Amphitheatre as this nation’s life-giving heart, and the Tugela as its mightiest artery.

In the final stretch, chain ladders climb rock faces and the gorge narrows to the spread of a hiker’s arms. The reward, for those who catch the lords of the mist in benevolent mood, is a neck-craning view of the Tugela hurling itself off the roof of the Amphitheatre, in the second-highest waterfall on Earth. For a long while the summit is no more than a notion, lost in steamy wisps; then a shaft of sun bursts through and for one brief but  dumb founding moment there it is, a tiny silver thread spooling down from the top of the world.

Billed as an ‘Afro-Swiss mountain village’, Alpine Heath sits on the edge of the Royal Natal National Park, with large self-catering chalets equipped with fireplaces and offering views of the escarpement. The central complex features two swimming pools, bars, a grocery and two restaurants (threecities.co.za/alpineheath).

Reunification Express

By Stanley Sobari

# A Ho Chi Minh City-bound train passes through Hanoi, where the line doubles up as a pedestrian throughfare | Route: Ho Chi Minh city to Hanoi, Vietnam; Miles: 1,078.; Notable passengers: the Viet Minh (they once ran an armoured train up and down the line).; Dining car: buy from the hawkers on station platforms-banh mi (Vietnamese baguettes) are a South Vietnamese speciality.; Sit on: the right-hand side for sea views at Ocean Cloud Pass

SYNONYMOUS with delays, smelly feet and a propensity to travel barely faster than walking pace, the Reunification Express nonetheless has a special in the Vietnamese national story. Known officially as the North-South Railway, it became a symbol of the reunited nation when-after years of being sliced in two-it finally reopened in 1975, reconnecting the twin metropolises of Hanoi and Ho chi Minh City (formerly Saigon). It also helps that it runs through some of the most spectacular scenery in Southeast Asia. Services rattle through a mosaic of rice paddies and sluggish rivers, thatched farmsteads and grazing water buffalo. The scenic highlight comes midway on the line, just after Danang, where trains inch between green mountains and the rock shores of the South china Sea-a stretch poetically known a ‘Ocean Cloud Pass’. The line may eventually be upgraded for high-speed services – go  now while you can still appreciate it in slow motion.

Five trains depart Ho Chi Minh City for Hanoi daily, taking around 30 hours (air conditioned 1^st class berth, vr.com.vn)

MARRAKESH EXPRESS

By Stanley Sobari

#A Train from Fez passes the Idris I Dam, en route to the town of Oujda on Morocco’s Algerian border | Route: Tangier to Marrakesh Morocco; Miles: 340; Notable passenger: Graham Nash of Crosby, Stills and Nash, Paul Bowles; Dining car: Food from the bar gets mixed reviews: stock up on snacks in advance; Sit on: the left-hand side for the views of the Idris I Dam on the Fez-Oujda branch

THE famous Crosby, Stills and Nash song Marrakesh Express painted a lively portrait of Moroccan railways: an on board carnival of ducks, pigs and cobras, all seen through a hazy cloud of exhaled smoke. 

These days a journey aboard the Marrakesh train yields less in the way of travelling livestock and mind-bending tobacco-but just as much in the way of dusty deserts, crumbling Kasbahs and colourful chacters. Follow the old hippy trail by catching a southbound service fro mTanger along the coast to the port of Casablanca. From here, trains turn inland, rumbling a corss the baked earth until the Atlas Mountains rear up on the horizon and Marrakesh materializes out of the heat haze. If you’ve time to spare, take a detour along the soon to be upgraded Fez-Oujda line, which branches off the main line en route to Marrakesh. Here, the crowning moment comes soon after the train depart Fez, with sweeping views of the idris I Dam backing on to arid, low-slung hills.

Night trains from Tangier to Marrakesh take roughly 20 hours, changing at Casablanca (oncf.ma).