Capetown to Singapore

[monina01]

Jack, thank you for writing this. I like live reports alot, and yours are very special. You give a good view about what cruising with Oceania is like. And your descriptions of tours and ports are wonderful, it is almost asif I am there, looking through your eyes.

 

As I did with your previous live report, a few years ago, I have also followed your story this time again, though with a smile and a lot of tears this time.

 

I recognize so much of what you are going through with your dad. And even though you see the decline, always have this trip in your heart. The time spent together is so important and special. Time is precious.

 

I wrote about my dad's illness at the start of your thread. My dad passed away 2 weeks ago on January 1, and I so very much wished for us to be able to do "our" special cruise like you did. It was not meant to be. But you have been able to do it, Jack, and twice at that!

 

Always cherish that.

 

Thank you for your live thread. Safe travels home and I wish you strength for the coming months ahead.

[travelglobetrotter]

Jack,

 

Thank you for taking us along on your extraordinary journeys. I may never get to South Africa, Burma or the Seychelles in person, but your words have already taken me there. What amazes and touches me is your personal story, your interactions with Casey, your parents, and the strangers you meet in the exotic places you visited. That's what really makes your posts so special and memorable, what inspires us to read and reread them. I wish you were our neighbor and we could enjoy dinner and conversations together, and continue to see Casey grow into a wonderful young man.

 

I, too, would like to read your book. Seems like your results with Casey should make it a must read for anyone considering fostering or adopting, and for the rest of us, I'm sure it will touch our hearts and make us more aware of the effect we have on the lives of those we meet each day. Thanks for sharing yourself with us, and for spending the many, many hours it took to write about your journeys.

 

Marlene

[Twiga]

I have really enjoyed reading your posts. Through them I have had the joy of reliving places I have seen and experiencing places I have not yet seen. You have such a wonderful talent for describing the places you visit. It's not just the sights that you describe so well, but it is your feelings about the places, the people, and your family that make it so special.

 

Your book about your earlier cruise with your Mom and Dad was wonderful. I think that a book about this cruise will be even more so with the addition of Casey to your life. I will definitely be in line to buy a copy!

 

I wish you, Casey, and your Mom and Dad all the best and I hope that the next few years will be filled with much happiness and will not be too difficult for you and your family.

 

Nancy

[Mparis184]

Thanks so much Jack for sharing this adventure with us. I am glad you had time to go to a meeting and see their recovery process first hand. We are all the same. The world gets smaller each day and we are blessed to have recovering people in our path regardless of where we travel.

 

Marion

[tanny18]

Jack, thanks for all you have given us...it's wonderful to see three generations travel together and interact so well. I'll cherish each page you have written and refer to it for our cruise this coming December. I hope your father does not get any worse and the time you spent with him, your mother and Casey will always be special in your heart. May you always have the wind at your back...smooth sailing. Arlene:)

[Floridiana]

Jack,

I discovered your story today and read it in one swoop. You are a great writer!

[Decebal]

Hi Jack:

When I saw you were posting again, I imediately opened the link. WOW!!! and I mean WOW!!!!! the changes in your life have been amazing, the good (Casey) and the bad (your father’s condition) but thanks for including us on your trip and being so intimate about what you are going through.

I have to say, all of you are incredibly brave to be on this journey, I always fret about a trip being too much for my 80 year old energizer bunnies, but your dad is an inspiration. I hope you and Casey continue to travel in the future and you bring us along with you.

Last but not least, I had tears in my eyes most of time (thanks a lot!) :).

Love does conquer all.

[JackfromWA]

First of all, DON'T YOU WISH YOU WERE ON MARINA TODAY! BON VOYAGE!! I hope the maiden voyage is everything we hope. I am confident Marina will surpass our expectations!

 

Now, with that interruption (I HAD to acknowledge it is Marina's first day with guests at sea), here is my final post for this cruise.

 

 

 

A FEW REPLIES

 

DrukeI (Michael), Thanks for chiming in. Glad to have you aboard!

 

LHT28 (Lyn) , We did have a safe trip home and you are intuitive—Casey and I are great for each other!

 

Paulchili (Paul), It has been great connecting with you…. Enjoy your trip to Burma!

 

Wripro, Thank you for your comments. I can’t tell you how encouraging it is to read your statement that you have do doubt that all those notebooks of prediction don’t have to come true. Casey and I are very fortunate to have found each other.

 

Dwelsh, thank you for the kind words and the encouragement in the days to come. I appreciate it.

 

Aussiegal (Jennie), I’m sorry our little exchanges will end again for now… I may have to post a little more often just to stay in touch with you. All the best of everything to you too… I’ll let you know when the book about Casey is done

 

Cathi, I’ll let you know when the book about Casey is done too. It was so nice to read your comments. I wish you could have been with us this time!

 

Dear Monina, I am so sorry to hear about your father’s passing. I know you cared deeply for him and your words touched me more than I can express. Thank you for sharing all of this with me and for offering me comfort when you are grieving yourself. All the best… Jack

 

Travelglobetrotter (marlene), thank you so much for the kind words and encouragement. I really appreciate it and thank you for taking time from your busy life to motivate me to write about Casey.

 

Twiga, (nancy), all the best to you too! I remember our exchanges from three years ago and it was a delight to hear from you again.

 

Mparis184 (marion) I hope we get to share a cruise together sometimes. Your comments, reminders and our connection where a much needed boost this cruise. Thanks.

 

Tanny18 (Arlene) I agree it is wonderful to have 3 generations traveling together. Though Oceania isn’t the best choice for kids, we had a great time—and you can’t go 35-days on most lines that cater to kids!

 

Floridiana, Wow! That was a lot of reading. Thanks for the compliment—both here verbally and that you read this in one swoop!

 

Decebal, Yes, love does conquer all. Maybe not right away, but I believe it is inevitable. Thanks for the encouragement.

 

 

 

HOME & PETE’S WORKBENCH

 

Leaving a cruise ship is hard. I find the last day is tainted by packing, worrying about home and getting ready to go back to reality. The last day of a 35-day cruise is harder than most as there are emotional goodbyes and the ship really feels like home. Although it had been over two years, boarding Nautica felt like returning home. Not a home like the one I grew up in, or a home where everyone I love is there, but a home in my dreams, where people are friendly, time is plentiful, meals are excellent and the only problems are the ones I bring with me.

 

We left the ship and the captain was there, shaking each passengers hand. As we briefly said goodbye I wondered how long it would be before I am back on Nautica. Between my dad’s health, Casey’s schooling and my business, I don’t have another trip planned. Today is Marina’s inaugural departure. I’d love to be aboard—watching Wolfgang Maier in Red Ginger, hearing Leslie Jon’s voice welcoming everyone aboard, and seeing Captain Flokos, Frank Del Rio and Bob Binder mingling with guests. But I’m not there. I’m sitting by a warm fireplace on a crisp winter morning, in a cozy house on 5-acres nestled in the woods of the Pacific Northwest. My dog and cat are nearby and the sun is starting to break the monotony of night. Though I’d rather be on Marina, I’m content.

 

We had a great trip. My parents arrived home safely the day after Casey and I. All our flights were on time and uneventful. Our luggage arrived with us and all our acquisitions arrived intact. The last week was challenging. I went back to work, Casey went back to school and my parents settled in—we haven’t seen each other as much as we did on Nautica.

 

As I’ve written many times, the thing I enjoy most about cruising is spending time with people I love. Ships are the perfect venue to enjoy intimacy with family and friends. No one has to cook, clean, make beds, or worry about mud on the carpet. It’s easy to go to your cabin and take a nap if your tired, and it’s easy to find a quiet corner to talk. I believe I spend more quality time with my parents and son in a month on Nautica than I do in six months at home.

 

Although cruise lines are a business, I think they offer the best benefit in the travel industry—space to create memories with friends and family. I miss my dad and mom, though they only live 10 miles away. I miss my old friends like Sukey, and my new friends like Carol. Casey misses them too. Later today we are working on a presentation about our cruise for his social studies class. I’ll enjoy going through photos with him, laughing and remembering what we did—but I’d rather be doing it than remembering it.

 

Coming home has made me very conscious of two things: Life is short and good health is precious. Watching my 79-year old dad and other passengers struggle with health issues, and realizing that it feels like only a few years ago when my father was at the top of his game in his 50’s and 60’s, makes me recognize how much I value time and good health. I am 47-years old and the last few years I have struggled with the idea of death—particularly my fathers. I know it’s inevitable, but the idea of a world where my dad isn’t alive is hard for me to imagine.

 

I read Becker’s Denial of Death, and many other books, essays and poems. Intellectually I recognize that birth and death are spiritually connected to the same root—the caterpillar’s death is the butterfly’s life—but when I contemplated the death of someone I love, my grief obfuscated my wisdom. I paid therapists, talked to friends, wrote in my journal, but I still struggled with the concept of living in a world where I couldn’t pick up the phone and call my dad.

 

Then, last August, I had a dream.

 

In my dream my mom, dad and I were on Nautica. We had only been on the ship a few hours and my dad had brought his workbench aboard. When we bought the house I grew up in in 1970, the previous owner left a 14-foot, 500-pound, oak workbench. It’s stained with decades of projects—everything from pinewood derby cars to cutting ceiling tiles—and adorned with hundreds of drill holes. I’ve always associated it with my father. His workbench was a sanctuary. Even though he was a well-regarded professor, he liked to work with his hands and he enjoyed home repair, building and remodeling. In my dream, the workbench was sitting in a large public area of Nautica and I was embarrassed by it’s size and weight. My dad was oblivious to my discomfort and was delighted to have it aboard. He ignored everyone walking by as he arranged his tools, adjusted his vise and put screws and bolts away. As my anxiety grew I saw Frank Del Rio walking toward us. Before he could say anything I blurted out, “I’m really sorry Frank. I know this is too much luggage to bring aboard.… I’ll talk to my dad and try to get rid of the workbench. I’m really sorry!”

 

Frank smiled and shook his head, “Look at your dad,” he said. I watched and saw my father grinning, alert, standing at his workbench with five or six other older men surrounding him, admiring his tools, talking about their own projects and exchanging memories. “Look at the other passengers—not everyone likes playing shuffleboard or laying around the pool. This could be a great new activity. Lots of older men enjoy tools and a good workbench and no other cruise line offers anything like this. I want to keep you dad’s workbench right here on Nautica. We’ll bring in some 2 x 4’s and a few other things and let people build things that make them happy. There is just one condition—when you dad isn’t here he has to let other guests use his bench. I’ll put up a sign that says ‘PETE’S WORKBENCH’ so everyone knows it’s his.

 

I was speechless. “Thank you Frank, that’s perfect.” As Frank left I watched my dad and the other old men. They seemed younger, more vital now. Years evaporated from their countenance and a golden light emanated from the workbench and men. In that moment I knew that my dad would always be here, always sailing, always sharing something he loved¬¬—not just his bench and tools— but his willingness to help and co-create with others. I knew that even though I couldn’t always sail with my father that he would be safe, he could take cruises without me, and that we can always meet again on Nautica at his workbench.

 

When I woke up I wrote my dream down. I can’t describe the change that happened to me—it’s the sort of thing they defies description, but more than any religious teaching, book, belief or hope, my dream gave me a sense of peace that somewhere my dad would always be happy, vital and strong. A few weeks after my dream I ordered a carved wooden sign that says ‘PETE’S WORKBENCH.’ My dad’s workbench is in my garage now, he can’t use it anymore, and my brother, Jeff, mounted it.

 

There is something magical about the sea. It has inspired, healed, motivated and called humans for millennia. I love the ocean. I love watching it, smelling it, sailing it and most of all being with it.

 

I want to thank Oceania for providing the perfect opportunity to enjoy the seas. And thanks to all of you for reading along and sharing this journey with us.

 

Thanks for reading,

 

Jack

 

P.S. Photos some people asked to see are posted at: jackhovenier.blogspot.com

[Mura]

Loved the photos -- and how happy Casey looks. You have made such a vast difference in his life!

[Marebear]

The photos were wonderful! I've added this to my "favorites" so I can keep up with you! Many, many thanks. Mary

[Aussie Gal]

Jack,

 

Wonderful photos of your family and yourself. I hope we do meet again one day, though you always seem to do the cruises we plan to do, before us. Loved your dream, how clever to write it down as soon as you woke up.

 

Please let me know if you ever decide to come "down under".

 

Jennie

[wripro]

Jack,

 

Welcome home! I'm so glad you and all your family made it back safely. I only hope that one day soon we end up on an Oceania ship together. I would love to travel with you and Casey and absorb lessons you have to offer about what is really important in life.

[CintiPam]

Jack, you have written a beautiful last chapter for your voyage on Nautica, and now you are home to continue your "hero's journey" with your family.

 

Your posts have helped me deal with the difficult events in our family's life in the past few months, and those events plus the profound and caring reflections in your posts have further encouraged me to proceed rather than to postpone in so many ways!

 

Thanks again and blessings to you and yours.

 

Pam

 

PS I enjoyed your lovely photos; your son is so tall already!

[2thebrig08]

Dear Jack,

 

I don't know if you are still reading this now that you are home but I don't know where else to thank you. My husband told me about your posts and I read them all the last few days. As others have said I had laughter, tears and many memories of my own dearly departed parents. My father had MS and mom had Alzheimers so I empathized deeply.

 

Besides thanking your for your writing I wanted to thank you for convincing my husband to book our cruise. Because of you we are taking our adult children on our first cruise on Oceania and hope to have some of the same precious experiences you described.

 

Wishing you and you parents and Casey all the best.

 

Donna

[alimerid]

This sounds fantastic. We are taking this trip Dec 22 this year. We will be getting to Capetown Dec 15. Please tell me who to e mail, I would love to book it. I think we can do it before we get on the ship. My flight actually stops in Johannesberg and continues to Capetown. I could get off in Johannesberg and pay a slight penalty. The other option is stay in Capetown for a few days and then leave on the Safari. Help! Maybe the tour company can help me figure this out?

By the way, You write beautifully. I will keep reading your wonderful decriptions.

Sherry

[alimerid]

Hi again.

I gather you did not use Oceania's tour. I would really appreciate the tour operator you used for the Safari and Burma. I did not know that cruise critic blocks it. My personal e mail is smendel29@cs.com

Thanks again for your terrific commentary.

Sherry Mendelson

[melanie99]

A little later today, my mom, dad, son and I board Oceania’s cruise ship Nautica to travel 35-days from Capetown, South Africa to Singapore.

 

A few years ago I took a 35-day trip from Hong Kong to Athens with my parents on Nautica and wrote about it on cruise critic. The link to that is here: http://boards.cruisecritic.com/showthread.php?t=528321

 

The writing was ultimately published in a book called Cruising With Mom and Dad. I didn’t ever expect to take another trip like this again, but circumstances came up that made this trip possible. A lot has happened since my parents and I disembarked Nautica. My relationship of 8-years ended, I adopted a 10-year old (now 12 year old) son from the foster care system, my father was diagnosed with Lewy Body Dementia (a nasty degenerative disease that combines the symptoms of Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s), and my economic circumstances have continually declined.

 

This trip isn’t convenient in terms of time or money, but worthwhile endeavors don’t always fit neatly into my life. When the opportunity came up, I decided that I needed to seize this chance to spend another month at sea with my dad and mom together, and give my son the opportunity to see the world with his grandparents and father. One of the blessing and curses of ocean travel is the intimacy that comes from sharing small cabins. While I don’t look forward to sharing a 200 square feet cabin and sleeping in a single bed for a month, I know that when the trip is over I’ll appreciate the time with my son. I have packed noise-cancelling headphones and an eye mask for those moments that I need solitude in Casey’s presence.

 

My dad was born in Holland in 1931, and he wanted to spend a few weeks there before flying down to South Africa to board Nautica. It felt like he is taking one last trip to his native country before his disease makes it impossible for him to visit his homeland again.

 

Casey and I met my parents in London and we flew to Johannesburg and on to Capetown to board Nautica together. After over 25 hours in airplanes I was tried. I had arranged with a tour company to meet us at the airport and show us around before we could go to the hotel and check in.

 

Our guide, Charl, was a retired Capetown government official. He and his wife, Erna, met when they were 10 and have been married 45-years. He considers his greatest career achievement to be helping adjust local government policies when Apartheid was abolished. Charl drove us to a small town called Stellenbosch, which is the heart of the South African wine county. We wandered the old streets, admired the Dutch architecture, peeked in a few galleries and tried to reconcile that we were in Africa. Neither Stellenbosch nor Capetown felt like the Africa we expect to see on Safari. They reminded me more of San Diego’s trendy Sea Port Village, Santa Barbara’s Stearns Wharf or the art galleries of La Conner, Washington.

 

“Would you like to try some wine?” Charl asked. I am in long-term substance abuse recovery (I haven’t had a drink or any other drug since May of 1990), my parents are active Mormons and my son is 12. We are about as tea totaling a crowd as he is every likely to guide.

 

“No,” I replied, “none of us drink. I think we’d like to head back to Capetown and see if we can check into our hotel.” As we approached Capetown, Table Mountain was partially visible through the marine haze. As more of it came into focus it became obvious why Table Mountain is synonymous with the city. Its beauty and presence overshadow the landscape and its attraction is undeniable.

 

We checked in and headed to the waterfront for dinner. None of us were seeking a dining experience—we have 35-days of that to look forward to on Nautica—and eventually found ourselves acquiescing to Casey’s desire to eat at a Subway. Our first supper in Africa was sitting on a touristy dock, eating Subway sandwiches, watching a giant neon Ferris wheel slowly rotate as an impromptu street band played Italian opera.

 

The next day I went to get my parents for breakfast. My dad had misplaced about $300 and my mom was exasperated, but trying to patient about where he had put the money. Their 50-year pattern of my dad taking care of the money, holding the plane tickets, driving and making plans is rapidly ending. “Do you remember when you last saw the envelope Pete?” She quizzed him.

 

“No, I don’t know,” he slowly replied. His movement and speech have slowed. The simplest questions often seem to require deep thought.

 

“What pants were you wearing? Was it your black ones?” He nodded. She located them, but there were no envelopes of cash stuffed in the pockets.

 

“I’m going to check the safe,” she said. The money was there. My dad still makes wise decisions, but he can’t remember that he made them. That morning I had woken up angry with my father. I dreamt that he didn’t really have Alzheimer’s and that he was pretending to be confused. I wanted him to stop acting silly and take his rightful place as the experienced leader of our family. I wanted to let him make the decisions, take the lead, guide us with his wisdom and take responsibility for our safety, itinerary and decisions. Now that I have assumed much of that role—a role I always lusted for as an adolescent—I wanted to abdicate it and return it to him. I wanted my dad back. Not this forgetful old man who bore a remarkable resemblance to my Stanford educated, retired professor emeritus father.

 

I realized that I could chose to resent, mourn and deny the truth of the progression of his disease, or I could surrender to it, accept it and have the most fun we could with the time and opportunity we have left. And that is what I chose to do. I decided today that my focus would be on making sure my dad lived his dream of visiting South Africa, that I would try my best to be patient, be of service to him, and do all I could to enjoy this strange new world we found ourselves in. I didn’t want to waste my day in sorrow over my loss—I wanted to spend my day enjoying our time together. The good thing about an aging parent with dementia is that there is plenty of time to talk, spend time together and came to grips with their inevitable demise—the bad thing is that they die a day at a time.

 

The day started beautifully. The weather was perfect and the cable car to Table Mountain was open. We rode to the top, took lots of photos and admired the incredible views. We drove over Chapman Peak as we meandered along the Cape Peninsula. The highway followed the beaches and the view of the ocean waves, rocky cliffs and sandy beaches were as good as those in Big Sur, Dubrovnik, Hong Kong or Costa Rica. Along the coast we watched kite boarders use their giant kites and surfboards to allow the wind to propel them over the ocean surface in the sunlight. It was probably the most beautiful highway I’ve ever traveled. We eventually found ourselves at the Cape of Good Hope. Although it isn’t literally, as popularly believed, where the Indian and Atlantic oceans meet, for hundreds of years it was where maritime navigators turned north and believed the oceans met. There was something ruggedly exciting about being their, knowing how many generations had eagerly waited and prayed to safely arrive so they could begin their journey home.

 

“Charl,” Casey asked. “Why aren’t their shanties near Table Mountain?” When we drove in from the airport we passed miles of cardboard, claptrap shanty dwellings. Casey was fascinated that people lived in them. My son has lived a very hard life. His mother was found by social workers living in a storage container when she was five months pregnant with him. She abandoned him to her mother when he was 11-months old and he was raised in the US equivalent of a shanty neighborhood in the inner city of Tacoma. Crime, poverty, neglect, lack of running water and violence were constant in his early life. He spent a few years shuffled between one grandmother who abused him so badly that she was ultimately arrested for the punching, total body bruising and missing clumps of hair, and another grandma who didn’t have the ability or judgment to keep him safe.

 

When state social workers finally removed Casey and his twin sisters from their home, Casey began a 3-year odyssey into the foster care system. He was drugged, neglected (he spent almost two years in a bedroom in a foster home when he wasn’t in school), given Top Ramen and cheese pizza for sustenance, and was suspended nine times in fourth grade for acting out all while under the protection of the state. A sad truth about foster care is often children are more likely to be abused and emotionally neglected in care than in the circumstance they were removed from. When Casey came to live with me a little over two years ago no one, including me, expected to see the progress he has made.

 

He gained 20 pounds in three months, he has been off ADHD medication for two years, he is successful in school, he has friends, he feels safe, and I couldn’t love him any more than if I had raised him from the day he was born. Needless to say the whole thing is a miracle in the truest sense of the word. The fact that my parents and I think he is ready to spend 35-days on one of the finest cruise ships in the world, speaks volumes about how far we have come.

 

“What do you mean Casey?” Charl asked in his quipped South African English.

 

“Well, umm why aren’t their some shanties by Table Mountain. I mean there is lots of space around there and I think if you live in a shanty it would be nice to see the mountain everyday… don’t you? So why don’t they have some shanties over there?”

 

Charl thought a moment before replying. “The government won’t allow them there Casey. It’s a state park and is protected for all the people to enjoy. The shanties are closer to the airport and located on land the government decided was more suitable for shanties. They don’t want shanties littering our national parks.”

 

“Oh. Well, I don’t think they can see table top mountain there and I just think it would be really nice to have a nice place to have a shanty if you have to live in one.” Charl didn’t say anything. There really was no reply. Personally, I agreed with Casey. If 700,000 of your 3.5 million population live without water, sewer, proper roofs, floors, walls or any of the other comforts that seem reasonable for anyone living on this planet in 2010, why not at least bring some natural beauty to their surroundings.

 

Changing the subject Charl asked, “Would you like to see to see some penguins?”

 

“Penguins!” My mom said, “I thought they liked colder weather and lived in Antarctica. I didn’t know there were penguins in Africa!”

 

“I want to see penguins!” Casey called out. “Let’s go!” Charl explained that the penguins once lived here and have been reintroduced, so we parked on a sunny beach near some palm trees and walked to the ocean to see penguins in Africa. Other than a few baboons on the side of the road, the first animals we saw in Africa were penguins. As I stood on the beach, enjoying the incongruity of watching the penguins, surrounded by sunlight, warm waves and tropical trees I felt the expectations of this journey washing away like sand castles in the tide. I have no clue what this trip will be like. It seems crazy to board Nautica tomorrow with my 12-year old son and 79-year old father. Yet going back to Nautica feels like going home. In 2007 when I traveled with my mom and dad from Hong Kong to Athens I experienced the greatest vacation of my life. This is a different trip. We are in a different place. Yet for all the seeming challenges, I believe this trip can be as fulfilling as that one.

 

When we arrived back to our hotel we returned to my room and looked out over the harbor. Nautica had docked while we were touring. She gleamed in the late afternoon sun, eclipsing the other ships and buildings around the harbor, glowing like the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center.

 

I can’t wait to set foot on my favorite ship in the world. My best vacation is being on a cruise ship with people I love. And no cruise line is more innovative and capable than Oceania. We are only spending one night aboard before we leave for three nights to take a safari in Sabi Sabi—neither my parents or Casey have ever been to Africa and we couldn’t leave without taking a photo safari—and then we rejoin the ship in Durban a few days later.

 

The next 35-days hold great promise and I can’t wait to get aboard and start our cruise. We will spend hundreds of hours together, explore some of the most beautiful islands in the world, take a safari, share many meals, visit the Temples of Burma (Myanmar), and talk. My dad could leave this world today and there is nothing left unsaid between us, but despite that there is still more I want to listen to and say. I am thankful that all our connection from here forward is a bonus. I can’t think of any way to teach my son, who has known far too much abandonment, abuse and neglect, what it means to be a good father than to watch my dad and I in the twilight of our relationship. Although Casey will miss 18-days of school to take this cruise, I hope that the lessons he learns with his grandparents and I will last a lifetime.

 

Thanks for reading

 



Jack

Were can I found your review for your 35 days trip cape town to Singapore

Greetings from Holland Melanie