Cruise ship prison? Not so fast say Scientology captors

by Chris Owen on

A cruise ship prison story has been floating around about an Australian woman who says she was held for years against her will aboard the cruise ship Freewinds, a floating Scientology cathedral of sorts. To many, the idea of living aboard a cruise ship might seem like a dream come true. To Valeska Paris, held on the ship starting in 1996 then spending the next twelve years there against her will, it was much more a nightmare.

Paris joined Scientology’s Sea Organization, signing its standard billion-year contract at age 14. Three years later, after her stepfather committed suicide and her mother denounced Scientology on French television, Paris was ordered to “disconnect” from her family.

Paris was taken in by the Church of Scientology at age 17 then transferred to the Freewinds a year later. The Village Voice reports that for several months she was punished with an assignment in the ship’s engine room, where at one point she passed out from the noise and heat. During the first years of her imprisonment, an escort went with her whenever she left the ship but over time she was conditioned to believe there was no escape possible.

“When I first went there, I hated being there, and I wanted to leave,” Paris told the Voice. “I knew that wasn’t going to happen, so I began to accept that that was the way it was going to be,” she says.

Paris compared the experience to that of of Jaycee Lee Dugard, held for 18 years in a California backyard and despite the ability to escape, felt resigned to being held captive.

“You’re so resigned to it,” said Paris. “I never had a bank account. You get 50 dollars a week. You don’t have a passport. If you want to leave the ship, you have to go down the gangway, and there’s a security guard there 24 hours a day.”

Valeska’s passport had been taken from her when she first boarded the ship, a procedure the church reportedly says was just routine.

“You were taught that Scientology was the only answer. You think you’re doing the right thing,” she says, adding that Sea Org members are constantly made to feel that they haven’t done enough to “clear the planet” for Scientology’s advancement. “They make you feel that you could always do more. I never really took any days off. That’s your whole life, basically.”

The Church of Scientology flat out denies the whole story saying

“Valeska Paris was a crew member aboard a ship.

All passports of crew members were held by the Port Captain in accordance with maritime regulations so they can be stamped in and out of ports as the ship sailed.

Valeska left the ship hundreds of times to go shopping, for outings with her husband on islands such as Aruba, St. Barts and Curaçao, as well as for numerous other reasons while aboard.

In 2001, she hosted six members of her husband’s family. She participated in extended projects in the UK, US and Denmark. She certainly wasn’t “forced” to be there.

She was also never forced to perform labor in the engine room.”

An exclusive report on the Australian Broadcasting Company program Lateline tells a different story:

 


UPDATE: Following publication of the story, the Church of Scientology reached out with the following comment:

The weblog posting concerning the Church of Scientology (“Cruise Ship Prison? Not so fast say Scientology captors”, November 30) is a repetition of a false tabloid story from Australia. Valeska Paris Guider was serving as a crew member aboard the Freewinds religious retreat as a volunteer, adult religious worker. She was there of her own free will as part of her religious commitment to the Church of Scientology. The Freewinds is a passenger vessel with hundreds of people aboard. Ms. Guider’s staff positions as a waitress, course instructor and staff counselor regularly placed her in contact with many parishioners and staff. She met and married her first husband there to whom she was married from 1998-2005 and who affirms her statements are false. She left the Freewinds hundreds of times to go shopping, for outings with her husband on islands such as St. Kitts, Aruba, St. Barts and Curaçao, as well as for numerous other reasons. She participated in extended trips to the UK, US and Denmark for which she passed through Immigration and Customs when entering and exiting these countries. Her claims are false.

The Freewinds, based in the Caribbean, is a religious retreat where Scientologists come for events, conventions, courses and spiritual counseling. The Freewinds is visited regularly by officials from the islands and countries it visits. It also serves as a training vessel and has become the regional authority on maritime security, training law enforcement and military personnel. A recent Meritorious Public Service Award from United States Homeland Security, awarded to the Freewinds by the United States Coast Guard describes the Freewinds as the “premier training platform throughout the Caribbean Basin.” It further acknowledges continuous instruction of Caribbean personnel in what is described as the “highest traditions of the United States Coast Guard’s core values-honor, respect and devotion to duty.” The Freewinds also helps to promulgate the Church’s humanitarian initiatives throughout the Caribbean region and has received numerous acknowledgements for its work in the fields of drug abuse education, human rights, morals education and literacy.

Based on the above reports from Lateline and The Village Voice, we’ll let you pick a side.

Traditional holiday beverages from around the world

by Laurel Miller on

Americans aren’t very creative when it comes to traditional holiday beverages (do, however, look for my upcoming story on Boulder’s banging mixology scene, which includes some killer contemporary winter cocktails). Historically, though, we’re more of an eggnog/mulled cider/hot chocolate kind of society.

I’m not knocking our Christmas beverages of choice. Properly made, they’re delicious, and certainly festive. But some countries really know how to roll when it comes to holiday imbibing (especially Latin America. One word: rum.).

Below, a compilation of some of the more interesting boozy holiday beverages from around the world that can be easily recreated in your own kitchen. Online recipes abound, and all of these are (almost) as tasty sans alcohol.

Coquito: Puerto Ricans are great because they’re not afraid to embrace their love of saturated fats (lard, coconut milk, etc.) or rum. In case you’ve been living under a rock, coconut is the new fat du jour (read more about its health attributes here). Everything in moderation, including moderation, as I always say.

Coquito recipes vary, but in general, this rich, blended Christmas concoction is a froth of spiced rum, condensed milk, coconut milk or cream of coconut, vanilla, and spices such as cloves, nutmeg, and cinnamon. Some versions may include ginger or ground nuts, but it’s always served chilled, in a small glass. Heavy, yes, but both sexy and satisfying. Add some eggs, and you’ll have ponche, the Venezuelan or Dominican version of eggnog.

Mulled wine: Variations on this warm, spiced, sugared, and otherwise enhanced wine (usually red) are served throughout Europe. There’s Nordic gløgg redolent of cloves, cinnamon, cardamom, ginger, and bitter orange (and perhaps a helping of aquavit). It’s very similar to German glühwein made with lemon, cinnamon sticks, cardamom or ginger, and cloves; in Alsace (the French region bordering Germany), they also add vanilla bean.

In Bulgaria, greyano vino contains honey, peppercorns, and often, apple or citrus. Polish grzane wino is more of a traditional mulled wine, but they also make grzane piwo, in which mulled beer (try a Hefeweizen or Belgian ale which are lighter and sweeter) is substituted for the wine. Na zdrowie (“To your health”)!

[Photo credit: Flicker user Akane86]Ponche Navideño: Not to be confused with those other luscious ponches, this Mexican version is made with sugar cane, apples and/or pears or citrus, raisins, prunes, and tejocotes–an indigenous fruit used by the Aztecs, who called them texocotl. Add tequila, brandy, or rum; heat, and instant fiesta. At Christmastime, ponche vendors can be found on the street, ladling out cupfuls of good cheer.

Another popular Mexican holiday beverage is champurrado, a version of atole (warmed cornmeal thinned to a pourable consistency) flavored with chocolate. It tastes much better than it sounds, and is delicious on a chilly day.

Sorrel Punch: This Jamaican Christmas drink is made from the petals of a species of hibiscus (jamaica in Latin America), locally known as sorrel. In Australia it’s known as rosella, and where it makes a lovely, delicate, fruity red jam. This isn’t the same plant Americans know as sorrel or French sorrel. That’s a bitter wild green, which would make for a truly revolting cocktail, unless you’re one of those people who find wheat grass juice “refreshing.”

Dried hibiscus buds can be purchased at Hispanic or Caribbean markets; the recipe varies, but it’s usually some combination of the flowers, sugar, smashed fresh ginger, water, lime juice, and rum (dark is more traditional than light). Mix, stir, turn on your light box (fellow Seattleites know what I’m talking about), and crank your fave reggae CD. It ain’t the islands but it’s a nice change of pace from all that mulled wine.

Wassail: Did any American not grow up hearing about or actually going “wassailing,” aka carolling? This mulled British cider is synonymous with knocking on stranger’s doors and breaking into song. Unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed to hit the wassail bowl after mandatory childhood post-carolling; parents should remember that singing in public is the worst possible form of torture for a geeky, tone-deaf pre-teen. Wassail has been a Christmas classic across the pond for centuries, so I’m sure generations of British children suffered the same fate.

Cola de mono: Although Chile is better known for its pisco sours (Peru also claims this libation as its own, but both countries produce it and they’re still duking it out over who actually invented this potent grape brandy) and wine, Christmastime means a glass of “monkey’s tail.” Combine aguardiente (sub pisco or a neutral firewater) with milk, coffee, vanilla bean, and cloves. I have no idea what this has to do with the tail of a monkey, but it’s a cute name. Uh, bottom’s up.

[Photo credit: eggnog, Flicker user elana’s pantry; wassail, Flicker user jeremytarling]

American Airlines food killed passenger, claims lawsuit

by Chris Owen on

As if filing for bankruptcy protection was not enough to fill American Airlines plate, now a passenger is claiming the troubled airline killed her husband.

According to the lawsuit, Raquel and Othon Cortes were on a flight to their home in Miami and had just completed the first leg of their journey, a flight from Barcelona to New York, when dinner was served. Othon chose the chicken, Raquel chose something else, reports NewTimes.

  On the ground at JFK it was apparent that something was wrong with Othon. He became pale, had stomach cramps and was suddenly very thirsty, symptoms consistent with food poisoning, in a typical time-frame.

Raquel told NewTimes that as they boarded the flight from JFK to Miami, her husband’s illness was “expressed and obvious” to AA staff. Boarding anyway, things took a turn for the worse quickly with Othon presenting nausea and shortness of breath which preceded a heart attack. He was pronounced dead in Norfolk, Virginia where the plane made an emergency landing, albeit too late.

Raquel and Sandra Cortes, Othon’s daughter have filed suit against American Airlines and Sky Chefs, the airplane catering company that apparently prepared the meal.

The lawsuit, reported to be in excess of $1 million by Tourism and Aviation has four points:

  • The chicken was poisoned.
  • AA was negligent for even allowing Othon to board the flight in the first place.
  • AA failed to provide medical attention.
  • AA waited too long for an emergency landing.

Flickr photo by Andrew Morrell Photography

Taste Hawaii: Savoring Alan Wong’s fresh farm-to-table feast

by Don George on

On a recent trip to Oahu, my wife and I had the excellent fortune to dine at Alan Wong’s eponymous restaurant in Honolulu. Consistently named one of the best restaurants in Hawaii, Alan Wong’s has been at the forefront of the Hawaii Regional Cuisine movement since its founding in 1995. Our farm-to-table, fusion feast featured a number of dishes that embody the chef’s culinary quest to showcase Hawaii’s fresh food products and its marvelous mélange of culinary cultures. Virtually every dish was a compact lesson in taste, texture, and tradition.

Our favorites included such signature concoctions as the Soup and Sandwich, a stemmed glass filled with chilled vine-ripened Hamakua Springs tomato soup presented with a yin-yang design, crowned with a parmesan cheese crisp and atop it a mini-kalua pig foie gras and mozzarella sandwich; Butter-Poached Kona Lobster, savory chunks of lobster served in a sauce of green onion oil with flavorful morsels of Hamakua Heritage eryngi mushrooms; North Shore Tilipia on a bed of local saimin noodles with Naked Cow Dairy lobster truffle butter nage; Ginger Crusted Onaga with piquant miso sesame vinaigrette, Hamakua mushrooms and sweet corn from Kahuku; Crab “Tofu” Agedashi, consisting of a tofu-like spanner crab mousse with Kona lobster medallions and plump lumps of crab meat, served with kudzu dashi; and a delightful dessert called The Coconut – scrumptious coconut meat-like haupia sorbet served in a chocolate “coconut” shell, surrounded by tropical fruits in a lilikoi sauce. Yum!

%Gallery-140566%Before our feast we had devoured Chef Alan’s 2010 book “The Blue Tomato,” which beautifully showcases both his culinary art and his life philosophy. So our dining experience was enhanced by the knowledge that he is a passionate and idealistic chef/entrepreneur, who goes out of his way to support sustainability efforts in Hawaii and to mentor and inspire his staffers to dream big. The aloha energy that he pours into his cuisine and co-workers seemed to fill the restaurant that night; from the warm, knowledgeable, and infectiously enthusiastic kitchen and wait staffers to the companionably oohing-and-aahing diners, everyone seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves.

After our feast, I looked more deeply into Chef Alan’s background. Born in Japan and raised in Hawaii, he worked his way through the kitchen trade, first at The Greenbrier in White Sulphur Springs, West Virginia, then at Lutèce in New York City, and finally at The CanoeHouse on the Big Island of Hawai’i before opening his restaurant in Honolulu in 1995. Since then, he has won the James Beard Award and was one of 10 chefs in the United States nominated by the Wedgewood Awards for the title of World Master of Culinary Arts. Bon Appétit has recognized him as the “Master of Hawai’i Regional Cuisine,” and Alan Wong’s Restaurant has been ranked by Gourmet twice. It is also the only restaurant in Honolulu that appears in the Top 10 of America’s Best 50 Restaurants. In addition to “The Blue Tomato,” he is also the author of “New Wave Luau” and is a 10-time winner of the Hale ‘Aina “Restaurant of the Year” and Ilima “Best Restaurant” Awards in Hawai’i.

Inspired in general by the emphasis on ethnic fusion cuisine and farm-to-table practices we found in Hawaii and in particular by Chef Alan’s attitude and achievements, I asked if he would do an email interview with me. He graciously agreed. Here’s our conversation:

DG: Did you cook when you were a child?

AW: No, but my mom was a great cook. Her cooking taught me a lot about seasoning, and she showed me the value of not wasting anything in the kitchen.

Who have been your principal culinary mentors and inspirations?

Andre Soltner, Chef Proprietor, and Christian Bertrand, Chef de Cuisine at the Lutece Restaurant, in New York City, when I worked there; Mark Erickson, chef at the Greenbrier Hotel when I did my apprenticeship there; and Joe Kina, instructor at Kapiolani Community College where I went to culinary school.

What first inspired you to create the cuisine you are now famous for?

Being the Chef de Cuisine at The CanoeHouse Restaurant at the Mauna Lani Bay Hotel and Bungalows, opening it in 1989. Meeting all the farmers on the Big Island and using their products, and being charged with creating Hawaii Regional Cuisine with 11 other chefs from across the state. HRC was born in 1991, and we have been celebrating its 20th anniversary this year.

You mention “being charged with creating Hawaii Regional Cuisine with 11 other chefs from across the state.” How did HRC come about? Was it a spontaneous creation of island chefs or was it something that was proposed from some outside source such as the Hawaii Tourism Board and then adopted by the chefs?

Originally twelve chefs got together just to “enjoy the party” for a change instead of providing the party all the time. We established HRC Inc. for two reasons. The first was to help develop an agricultural network in the state with the help of the Department of Agriculture. We did this by divulging all of our farmers and purveyors whom we bought produce from. Our second goal was to promote Hawaii’s culinary scene so that tourists and locals would know that there was a different new cuisine of Hawaii evolving and developing.

What are the primary characteristics/ingredients of traditional Hawaiian cuisine?

The word “Hawaiian” refers to an ethnic group entirely on its own. They originally came from the South Pacific islands. They ate a lot of raw fish dishes. They cooked in an underground imufrom which kalua pig is most famous today. They grilled on hot rocks, called pulehu. Now we have iron, so we cook on hibachis. They placed food in the imubesides the whole pig, and that method is steaming today. Another method of steaming was known as lawalu, where a fish or meat is steamed in tileaves over the fire. Taro turned into poi was the main starch. For seasoning, the Hawaiians would use inamona(roasted kukui, or candlenut), sea salt, and seaweed.

What are the primary characteristics/ingredients of contemporary Hawaiian cuisine?

Hawaii (without the “an” at the end) Regional Cuisine is a contemporary cuisine that borrows from all the ethnic cuisines found in the islands today. To Taste Hawaii, we utilize as much locally grown and raised product as possible to feature what we have — the fish from our waters, grass-fed beef and lamb, local eggs, dairy, pork.

How important are fruits and vegetables to HRC, and how much do these vary from season to season? That is, because of Hawaii’s climate, are the same produce products available throughout the year, or are there seasonal differences and specialties?

We have two seasons in Hawaii, rain and sunshine, or another joke is mango season and no mango season. Fruits and vegetables play a big role in the cuisine. We have the best mangoes in the world when in season. Pineapples are best from here and do not travel well. Tropical fruits grow well here and for the most part, because of our weather, we can enjoy a vine-ripened tomato all year round.

What are the goals of the fusion cuisine you are seeking to create?

The most important things are flavor, good taste, having a sense of place, and featuring the food, not your ego.

Could you take one of your favorite fusion dishes/creations and “deconstruct” it: What are the different elements in terms of ingredients that go into it? How are these prepared and put together? Which cuisine traditions are you combining in this dish?

Ginger Crusted Onaga was inspired by childhood memories of Chinese cold ginger chicken. The miso sesame vinaigrette that goes with it is Japanese inspired. Combining ethnic flavors together comes naturally to me; the most important thing is that it has good flavor.

Are there any special techniques you use in creating this cuisine?

Most of the techniques are influenced by European techniques and French training. The different ethnic cooking styles, flavors, ingredients, and techniques do come into play and using the Hawaiian influence is important to me.

What’s the biggest challenge of creating Hawaii Regional Cuisine?

Your own imagination and creativity

What most excites you about the culinary scene in Hawaii today?

It is still growing and evolving, so there’s a lot to look for in Hawaii. Today the popularity of farmers markets is growing. People can go to the markets and meet the people who grow their food, and they can get products that are much fresher because they come from the source. There’s more variety in what’s available. Twenty years ago when Hawaii Regional Cuisine was first started, we didn’t have products like locally grown mushrooms, hearts of palm, abalone, chocolate, and vanilla. As more farmers continue to grow a wider variety of products, we as chefs can continue to be inspired by what’s fresh, local, and in season.

In your mind, how is Hawaiian cuisine related to Hawaiian culture?

Family is important, sharing food, talking story at the table. Aloha means many things: doing the right thing, to make things right, to have the right intentions. Hawaii’s multi-ethnic cuisine begins from the immigrant plantation days. Most of the immigrants came from Asia, so the local people are a mixed bag. When you are raised in Hawaii eating local food, you find that the source comes from this time, and it is heavily Asian influenced. Most of the food comes from a poor time and so something like the “Plate Lunch” is born out of necessity to fill your stomach so that you can go out and work again tomorrow. It has evolved quite a bit today.

What’s your favorite food memory?

I don’t have a particular one, however, cooking for Chef Andre Soltner every day for his dinner with his wife taught me so many valuable lessons that helped create who I am today professionally.

Is there a special goal or project you are working on now?

We plan to open another restaurant on Maui, partnering with the Grand Wailea Hotel. It will be called Amasia, featuring small plates and family-style fare. We’re hoping to open it in early spring 2012.

[Photos by Kuniko George]

In winter, Seattle is mine again.

by Pam Mandel on

November, December, Seattle. Typically, it’s raining and the temperatures hover around 40ºF. The sky is a dull, even gray that mutes all light and color. It’s miserable, by most measures, not cold enough to snow, but too cold to enjoy being outside without performance attire. Perhaps it’s the worst at the bus stop; cars roll by throwing water and wind, there is not enough protection in those shallow three sided shelters.

I am a California girl by birth. My childhood was spent up in a new suburb on the edge of an agricultural region that is now sprawling housing developments and shopping malls. But it used to be cornfields and fruit trees; the not quite relentless daylight was ideal for sunshine crops. During my junior and senior years at San Jose State University, I went swimming most days Afterward, I dried myself in the sun on the concrete pool deck. I rode my bike year round, sometimes climbing the coastal range before rolling back down into the fog banks of the San Gregorio coast. I have limited memory of California winter. There was — is — more sunshine in California than in Seattle. This is a fact.

In summer, Seattle is a hub for cruise ships heading to Alaska in summer. We’re a foodie destination and even though grunge is dead, we still get pilgrims seeking out the Crocodile and Sub Pop records — those who have done their homework know where to find the Black Hole Sun and the Sound Garden. Throngs of people choke the entrance to the flagship Starbuck’s. They block traffic at First and Pike as they photograph themselves with the neon over the entrance of Pike Place Market. Seattle is nothing short of stunning in summer, an ecotopia on the edge of Puget Sound. The long hours of daylight, the weather that is never too hot, the easiness of this city in the northwest corner of the US makes for an irresistibly appealing place to be — for three months out of the year.Making peace with Seattle’s winter does not come easy to me, even with over a decade of residency in the Emerald City, as one marketing campaign branded us. The darkness wears on me. A morning person, I have trouble getting out of bed, trouble staying up late. I own a “happy light” — one of those high wattage devices that’s supposed to help with Seasonal Affected Disorder. I now understand the value of a sun-break vacation, something I never even considered when I lived in California. My wardrobe is replete with Goretex and polar fleece and stocky footwear suitable for navigating puddles. And I have the cliched Seattle-ite’s relationship with coffee.

Still, there’s something slow and quiet about this city in winter, something cozy and inclusive about Seattle. When the cruise ships move to ports south, Pike Place Market opens up and is easy to walk through. The tone of the market vendors shifts, the “Where are you from?” conversation takes a completely different turn when the answer is “Here. I’m from here.” There’s a camaraderie, a “We’re all in this together” sort of feeling as we shake out our damp coats and shed the rain from our wooly sweaters.

Mid-morning at Alki Beach, in Pioneer Coffee, there are no strays from the water taxi, it’s just us locals. If it’s dry, we sit on the concrete steps of the beach promenade, watching the ferries slide back and forth between Bainbridge Island and Bremerton and downtown. Evenings, we sparkle in candlelight. We reflect our weird northwest brand of outdoorsy bookishness in glasses that hold bourbon cocktails, whiskey. We plan our escape while wrapped in the cognitive dissonance of being in this city that we love. Places that were promoted in Sunset Magazine and the AAA Journeys west coast edition belong to us again.

This last weekend, the husband and I joined a friend at the Seattle Art Museum to see Luminous, a stunning selection of work from the museum’s Asian collection. First we ate passable Mexican food in an nearly empty restaurant on the Harbor Steps, a stair climb that runs from First Avenue down to the waterfront. In summertime, the top of the steps is a popular spot for protestors and I have photos of my family standing in the fountain. On the Sunday, the wind flew up the slope from the Sound, hurling sharp rain into our faces.

After spending a few hours in the museum — where we did not have to jostle for space in order to view the artwork, we went back out to a nearby coffee bar. A football game was on the television but the volume was turned all the way down. Instead of sports commentators, we got Death Cab for Cutie as our soundtrack. We lolled for an hour, more, maybe, over mochas, mine with cinnamon and black pepper. We unraveled things, as people do in cafes. Where to go next (us, Vancouver, my friend to China for work), the user interface on a popular new video game, the mediocre writing on this season’s The Simpsons.

The rain had stopped. We walked back to the car, a block away, past a bundled up couple who were clearly not from Seattle in their stylish wool overcoats and scarves. “Chicago,” I said out loud — my husband had spotted them too. They looked cold but they were smiling, he had her arm tucked in his. “They’re lucky,” I thought. “They are seeing my city at its very best.” The late afternoon sky had turned the color of ripe mango and fire and the blue of a baroque palace ceiling. To the south, there was a tower of black clouds, another storm front coming in. I was irrationally pleased about this. I knew what would happen. The Chicago visitors would go back to their hotel. I would tuck into a bowl of pho at my favorite local place and the city, Seattle, would be all mine once again.

Photos courtesy of the author by UJ Sommer and Pam Mandel.