Timeless ease fills the room as passengers wait to embark on the fabled Blue Train for a luxurious two-night trek across South Africa.

But even in this cosseted world, 2021 intrudes, showing that nothing can escape the grip of the coronavirus pandemic.

Passengers are discreetly ushered off in small groups to a fast-track coronavirus testing centre nearby. 

A negative result, sent by text, is followed by an elegant appetiser lunch -- the final step before "All aboard!" signals the start of the adventure. 

In the background stands the dashing Blue Train, ready to accommodate excited passengers in 19 plush wagons lined with wooden panels and polished brass.

Forty-eight hours of pampering begins as the train rolls out of the station on a 1,600-kilometre (994-mile) trip through the Karoo desert, slicing up the middle of the country to the capital Pretoria.

Arid ochre landscapes gradually morph into rolling hills and green pastures sporadically broken up by mining towns and informal settlements.

The Blue Train is a perfect escape from the cares of the world.

Ironically, most South Africans could never have dreamed of affording its luxury before Covid appeared.

But coronavirus travel restrictions have stemmed the flow of wealthy international tourists that long dominated the train's clientele, mainly from Australia, Britain and Japan.

Service resumed in November with heavily discounted prices. Today nearly all its passengers are from South Africa.

"I grew up knowing there was a Blue Train, it was unaffordable," said Cape Town-based doctor Mashiko Setshedi, accompanied by her 67-year-old mother. "Thanks to Covid it became possible."

Unlike Setshedi, most of the passengers were white couples in their 50s and 60s. 

"Our trip to the US was cancelled in 2020," said Bennie Christoff, a 54-year-old financial advisor, flanked by his wife.

"We are locked in and the Blue Train is one of the things I wanted to do. My grandparents told us about it." 

The decades-old train is run by Southstate logistics firm Transnet African , which has struggled to keep rail traffic smooth since the economic setbacks of the pandemic fuelled a surge in cable theft.

- 'Once-in-a-lifetime' - 

A discounted ticket still comes at a steep minimum price of 23,000 rand ($1,544) -- about four times the average monthly minimum wage in one of the world's most unequal countries. 

"Returning guests are rare," barman Simon Moteka said. "It's often a once-in-a-lifetime experience for them."

Sliding drinks over the counter, the 43-year-old expertly navigated conversation, peppering discreet small talk with the occasional well-placed joke.  

As dinner time neared, a loudspeaker announcement politely reminded men to don a coat or waistcoat and "women to be as elegant as possible". 

Flip-flops and shorts gave way to dark suits and dresses before passengers made their way to the restaurant car, filling the narrow passageway with the scent of perfume.

The sun was setting as diners were shown to their tables, casting a golden glow over the sheep-dotted Karoo whizzing past the windows.

Each dish on the three to five-course menu is paired with a different glass of wine.

Dessert -- deconstructed cheesecake or a lemon meringue tart -- was followed by a shot of grappa or a sweet South African white from Klein Constantia. 

"Nelson Mandela's favourite," said restaurant manager Sydney Masenyani, ramrod straight and impeccably dressed.

The 61-year-old started his career as a senior waiter on a smaller train in 1981.

In 1993, he joined an all-white team of staffers, two years after apartheid formally ended.

His first months were tough. Tall and shy, Masenyani was often teased.

Four years later, Mandela himself stepped on board to launch a new, fully revamped Blue Train, flanked by US music producer Quincy Jones and British model Naomi Campbell. 

"It was wonderful," Masenyani recalled, vividly describing the red carpet and the nervous bodyguards.

"Motorbikes on the road, helicopters," he glowed. "We took photos with him."

The highlight was serving Mandela his favourite chocolate fondant "with a passion fruit heart" and a sweet South African dessert wine.        

"In fact, he was sitting at the same table as you," Masenyani gleefully told the AFP journalists.

"That's what he tells everyone," joked a passenger overhearing the conversation.

- Invisible fairies -

Some satisfied diners retreated to their freshly made cabin beds. Others headed to the observation car with its outsize windows, the lounge or the club for a nightcap.

Once on board, everything from the first morning coffee to a midnight cigar is included in the ticket price.

Cash is banished -- passengers are asked to tuck their wallets away and "surrender to the luxury of the show."

Time becomes fluid. Between meals and naps, the day is spent reading, playing cards and making new friends.

Every evening, invisible fairies tiptoe into the cabins while dinner is served. 

They bring firm mattresses down from nooks in the walls and stretch fresh-smelling duvets tightly across.

From fluffy pillows, one can turn to the window and gaze at the moon-lit landscape rolling by under a starry sky.

Tucked under the blankets, a hot shower or bath awaiting in the morning, passengers rocked by the gentle motion drift off to sleep. 

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The Japanese town of Taro had sea walls that were supposed to be able to survive almost anything the ocean could offer up, but the 2011 tsunami still brought utter destruction.

A decade after the deadly waves unleashed by one of the most powerful earthquakes in recorded history, the lesson learned in many coastal towns was: build higher.

That has left a legacy cast in concrete along hundreds of kilometres of Japan's northeastern coast -- with a few notable exceptions where communities have rejected the imposing barriers.

Before 2011, people in Taro assumed their walls would withstand just about everything.

"Taro had built a perfect town to prevent disaster," 63-year-old local tour guide Kumiko Motoda told AFP.

The town adopted sea walls as early as 1934, after being engulfed by huge tsunamis in 1896 and 1933.

Its 10-metre high barriers, running 2.4 kilometres (1.5 miles) in total, were known collectively as "The Great Wall" and came with 44 tsunami evacuation routes, equipped with solar panels to keep the lights on.

Roads were designed with clear views for evacuees, and residents were supposed to be able to get to safety in less than 10 minutes, Motoda explained.

But the 16-metre wave that arrived on March 11 made quick work of those best-laid plans, streaming over the walls and partially destroying them as it carried away homes and cars.

Across Taro, 140 residents were killed and 41 remain missing. 

After the disaster, Japan's government asked coastal regions in the area to consider constructing or rebuilding protective walls, eventually setting aside 1.3 trillion yen ($12 billion) in funds.

In all, 430 kilometres of non-contiguous barriers will be built, with construction around 80 percent complete.

- 'Disaster-prone archipelago' -

The structures have reshaped the coastal landscape, screening long sections of the sea from view.

In Taro, the walls are now up to 14.7 metres high and run for over two kilometres.

At their base, residents must crane their necks to even see the top. For a glimpse of the ocean, they must climb more than 30 steps up a staircase that looks like it leads directly to the sky.

Experts say the barriers are worth it, offering two key protections: bouncing back the power of the waves, which reduces damage, and buying time for evacuation.

Even a few minutes can count for everything, said Tomoya Shibayama, a professor of civil and environmental engineering at Waseda University.

"There were many moments (in 2011) where these few minutes of time decided whether people were able to evacuate or were caught up by the tsunami," he told AFP.  

Newer designs incorporate wider bases and reinforced inner walls to stop the barriers being toppled and better absorb the force of multiple waves.

Heights have been adjusted based on new predictions of the highest waves that could occur in once-in-a-century tsunamis.

Other lessons have been learned too, with improved warning systems, computer simulations to map evacuation routes and relocations of communities.

While the barriers aren't enough alone, Shibayama said, they remain necessary.

"There is always a risk of natural disasters," even if communities relocate. "Japan is a disaster-prone archipelago," he warned.

Taro's experience in 2011 showed the walls are not a fail-safe solution.

"There were people who didn't evacuate, thinking the tsunami wouldn't reach them," Motoda noted.

- 'This is my home' -

The initial warning described a three-metre wave, and by the time it was upgraded to a 10-metre warning, power outages meant many missed the alert.

A large quake two days earlier had also only produced a minor wave, possibly lulling some into a false sense of security.

"The sea walls are here to buy time for people to evacuate, not to stop a tsunami," Motoda said.

Motoda, whose mother remains missing after the tsunami, believes the walls serve another poignant purpose: keeping bodies from washing out to sea.

"I feel she would have returned home if the sea walls hadn't been destroyed," she said.

But the walls are not without controversy, and some communities have rejected being cut off from the sea, regardless of the risks.

The tiny fishing village of Mone in Miyagi lost 42 of its 55 houses in the 2011 tsunami, but instead of building a wall, it decided to move.

"The only way to protect our lives when a tsunami comes is to evacuate to a higher place. Whether there is a sea wall doesn't matter," said local oyster farmer Makoto Hatakeyama.

The village, which lost four people in the tsunami, relocated 40 metres above sea level.

Hatakeyama, like many fishermen, actually headed into the sea in a bid to protect his boat. He survived only by swimming to a nearby island.

He believes sea walls can offer a false sense of security.

"There is nothing you can do about a tsunami... Humans should understand they live in a place where natural disasters such as tsunamis and quakes happen."

And losing a direct connection to the ocean isn't a sacrifice he's willing to make.

"This view, this community's wind, atmosphere... There's almost nowhere like it in Japan," the 42-year-old said.

"(The sea) is my identity. It makes me feel calm. This is my home."

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Paris, France | AFP | Friday 3/6/2021 - 00:00 UTC+8 | 510 words

Our weekly roundup of offbeat stories from around the world:

- You horny devil -

Cute, chunky 107-stone female seeks caring Japanese male for companionship and maybe more...

Emma, a Taiwanese white rhino at the country's Leofoo Safari Park, has been learning Japanese for her first date with a sauve older male called Moran in Japan.

Zoos want to widen the gene of the captive-bred endangered species.

Hitting the scales at 682 kilos, keepers say Emma is a real lady. She's slim for a rhino and "seldom gets into fights with other rhinos or snatches their food".

#MeToo clearly in mind, one of the Japanese words Emma has been learning is "No".

- Dead lucky -

An Indian man declared dead after a motorcycle crash began to move on an autopsy table as doctors got ready to open him up.

The pathologist saw the body move just before he began to cut into the 27-year-old from Mahalingapur in the southern state of Karnataka.

Officials told AFP that doctors in a private hospital had clearly exercised "bad judgement".

- Smashing fun - 

With no Greek restaurants open to smash plates in, Californians are getting rid of pent up lockdown stress by going to "Rage rooms" where they can take a hammer to the furniture.

"I've wanted to break something for a long time now," satisfied customer Mike told AFP, cradling a crowbar. "But we have a toddler in the house who imitates everything."

It's also therapy for Erika, who worked up a sweat smashing the place up with a sledgehammer.

"I'm cooped up in my house with Covid, I can't see my friends, can't go out, and (am) slowly losing my mind," she said.

- Penguins can finally chill -

But it could be worse, she could be a gentoo penguin. Those at Norway's Bergen Aquarium have been under an uber-strict lockdown since December, banned from sliding on their tummies into their pool or going out to break the ice with their amphibious friends.

They finally got back to penguin normal this week after getting jabs for bird flu -- which is even more deadly than Covid.

- Wanted: Space cadets -

A Japanese fashion tycoon has been dubbed the "Willy Wonka of Space" for inviting eight people to join him on a voyage to the Moon.

Yusaku Maezawa was the first person to book the spaceship being developed by Elon Musk's SpaceX.

The 45-year-old says he wants creative people. "I have bought all the seats, so it will be a private ride," he added.

But given that his Twitter handle is @yousuckMZ and that he is using crash-dogged SpaceX, even space cadets may be having doubts.

This week another of Musk's test rockets went up in smoke as SpaceX commentator praised its "beautiful soft landing".

Such reality-defying elan almost matched Musk himself who tweeted "Mars, here we come!" after his Starship exploded in a ball of flames at a test launch in December.

- Saw it coming -

A French man who asked his neighbour for the loan of a saw "to get rid of a body" has been arrested for the murder of his lodger.

The body was found wrapped in plastic at his home in the town of Tour-du-Pin in the foothills of the Alps.

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The autumn/winter 2021-2022 collections had an air of hope for when coronavirus is banished or at least brought under control: for when home clothes are shed and new outfits see the light of day, for when life simply returns to a semblance of normal.

- Sequins, glitter and frills -

Sequins set the tone for an irresistably festive mood, with the standard set by Prada.

Raf Simons and Miuccia Prada used them for a sparkling lining of a large faux fur stole.

Elsewhere they were more full-on, entirely covering an otherwise straight-cut coat, or on skirts, bags and shoes.

At Valentino, Pierpaolo Piccioli used sequins on a skin-coloured dress, or a shimmering floor-length cape. 

They were inserted into knitwear at Missoni or Brunello Cucinelli, while at Armani, sequins invaded a black tuxedo jacket, the effect completed with ruffles and gemstones.

- Inside outside -

After months cooped up indoors, intimate wear was given an outing: dresses with thin straps in silk, lace or voile were on the catwalks of all the major houses.

At Fendi, there were fluid silk dresses, extended to the neck with the incorporation of long scarves.

New artistic director Kim Jones also used silk for trousers and tops, as if the working girl had transformed her silk pyjamas into an ultra-chic urban outfit.

Valentino's nets and laces revealed more than they hid, and MM6 Maison Margiela had camisoles with thin straps in a collection where everything was backwards, where underneath was on top.

- Bomber jackets -

Bomber jackets brought a hint of G.I. Jane to the collections, although more in the vein of Marilyn Monroe visiting the Marines than Demi Moore's shaved head. 

At Prada, the nylon jackets were oversized and black. At Etro, they had an ethnic feel, at Pucci they were branded, while at Max Mara they highlighted the label's founding date of 1951.

For Alberta Ferretti they were in leather, while Dolce & Gabbana made them sexy with Madonna-style conical additions to the chest.

- Black -

Black was used to claim a more formal wardrobe.

At Valentino, the colour dominated with only flashes of white, gold and check.

At Prada, it contrasted with elements of colour on the arms, legs, necks or in accessories.

Armani used it to similar effect, the collection based on black with blue, green and lilac. A grand finale of black at Fendi brought hyper-sophisticated looks. 

Meanwhile the strong woman with a contemporary Amazonian spirit at Alberta Ferretti wore black overalls, capes and wide black trousers.

- Fur -

Like an animal coming out of hibernation, the heavy coat of the Yeti or Star Wars' Chewbacca is back, whether real or fake.

For Prada, the fur was synthetic and ubiquitous, used not just for coats and stoles but also in the decor of the show, covering walls and floors.

Fur specialists Fendi presented several grand looks, but with a novel approach -- re-using materials from previous pieces.

Florentine house Ferragamo was fur-free, but showed knitwear with dramatic fur-like fringes.

At Dolce & Gabbana, the fur coat was colourful, sometimes pink, golden or multicoloured, and always oversized.

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New York, United States | New Yorkers are taking advantage of the absence of tourists during the pandemic to visit iconic sites in the Big Apple that they would normally avoid.

At 10:00 am (1500 GMT) on a recent Friday, barely ten people were on Liberty Island's roughly 200-metre (650-ft) promenade, staring up at the Statue of Liberty.

In normal times, even although it is not peak season, hundreds of tourists would be posing for selfies in front of the copper icon of freedom.

Alexander Lumbres, a student at City University of New York, has been to the island 20 times before, but never been able to enjoy a crowd-free view of the statue.

"It was really hard for me to take pictures. Usually, we would go around the backside, just to get like a proper picture with the family and everything," he said.

Roughly 67 million tourists visited New York City in 2019. In 2020, visitor numbers were a third of that, and most came before the pandemic began ravaging the city in the spring.

Today, 90 percent of visitors to the Metropolitan Museum of Art come from the local area, according to a spokesperson. Ordinarily, locals make up fewer than half.

NYC & Company, which markets the Big Apple around the world and which cut its workforce by almost a half because of coronavirus, launched the "All in NYC" campaign to encourage New Yorkers to visit their own city.

Getting New York back on its feet is "going to start with New Yorkers" said executive vice president Christopher Heywood.

"When you live here, you take it for granted," said Darlene Vann, who's in the military and stationed in New York for a year. She was visiting the Statue of Liberty for the first time.

Jerry Willis, of the National Park Service, the government agency that manages national parks and sites, said "New Yorkers are famous" for not visiting renowned sites on their doorstep.

Darlene's husband, Jay Vann, prefers outdoor venues over closed spaces because officials are "limiting capacity" at indoor venues, which also come with the threat of some patrons not complying with strict health protocols.

In the fourth quarter of 2020, the Empire State Building observation deck recorded a 94 percent drop in visitors compared to the same period the year before, despite being open for the full three months.

At the 9/11 Memorial, only a few dozen people tend to walk amid the former home of the World Trade Center's Twin Towers.

- Broadway the catalyst -

Many New Yorkers avoided the memorial during its first few years, either out of trauma or because it was too crowded, to the point that organizers launched a specific marketing campaign in 2016 entitled "Our City. Our Story".

Janice Ryan lost a friend in the Al-Qaeda attacks on September 11, 2001. She recently visited to find her friend's name on the engraved list of victims that surround the large pools of water installed where the north and south tower used to stand. 

Today, she came to find her name in the list engraved along the two large pools installed where the 1 and 2 World Trade Center were located.

"It was easier for me to come today because usually it's so crowded," she said.

"It's super emotional for me. I don't know anybody that could come down here and not feel as it is the day that it happened. I've stayed away because it's really hard," Ryan added.

Mark Robinson, a theater director, often visits "Ground Zero" for some peaceful reflection.

"(Normally) I wouldn't be coming down here on a Friday. But the streets down here in the Wall Street area downtown are pretty deserted. So it just seemed like the right thing to do on such a beautiful day," he told AFP.

Despite enjoying New York's new-found quietness, locals are beginning to crave the manic old days.

"It's about time we get back to the normal hustle and bustle of the city. We enjoyed that when we were living here when we were younger," said Jay Vann.

With the partial reopening of cinemas and large arenas such as Madison Square Garden, NYC & Company's Heywood sees positive moves in the right direction.

"It's been gradual, but we are starting to make our way toward a recovery," he said.

But he says the real turning point will be when Broadway reopens, which may not be until September.

"Broadway will be that catalyst that we need to be able to signal to the world that New York City is absolutely open for business," he said.

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"For being a legendary writer who has enriched Irish literature in inestimable ways and for nurturing French literature we award you the insignia of Commander of "L'Ordre des Arts et Lettres," said French culture minister Roselyne Bachelot-Narquin in a pre-recorded online message.

Bachelot-Narquin praised O'Brien for a "steadfast commitment in favour of liberty, both in your writing and in your life" and for "having inspired countless women by the force of your words".

O'Brien, 90, is the author of 18 novels.

"This award is huge for me," she said in a pre-recorded message from her home in London.

"I will wear this medal... as being talismanic for the rest of my life."

Born in 1930 into a strict Catholic farming family in west Ireland's County Clare O'Brien's father was an alcoholic and her mother saw writing as a sin.

"Writing was a very secret transaction because it was regarded as profane, both in our house and in my country, during my formative years," she explained in her acceptance speech.

O'Brien arrived on the literary scene in the 1960s, with a debut novel that was burned and banned in her native land.

"The Country Girls", about the sexual initiation of rebellious Catholic girls drawn from O'Brien's childhood experiences, is now a marker in modern Irish literature for its breaking of social and sexual taboos.

Her career spans decades with her most recent novel "Girl" published in 2019 -- depicting the trauma of Nigerian schoolgirls kidnapped by Boko Haram militants.

O'Brien has already been awarded the Irish PEN Lifetime Achievement Award and the PEN/Nabokov Award for work which "broke down social and sexual barriers for women in Ireland and beyond."

Her work is "like a piece of fine meshwork", wrote the late US author Philip Roth in the New York Times.

It is "a net of perfectly observed sensuous details that enables you to contain all the longing and pain and remorse that surge through the fiction," he said in 1984.

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New York, United States | Meghan Markle opened up about battling suicidal thoughts, Prince Harry disclosed a painful rift with his father -- and both settled a fair few scores in their history-making interview with Oprah Winfrey.

The gloves came off as the pair lifted the veil on their dramatic exit from royal life, holding little back as they alleged racism in royal ranks, and a campaign of lies targeting Meghan.

But there was tenderness too as the pair spoke of their present-day happiness -- and revealed the gender of their second child.

Here are key takeaways from the interview:

- 'Didn't want to be alive' -

Opening up on a barrage of negative media coverage she faced as part of the royal family, Meghan, 39, said the British press drove her to the point where life no longer seemed worth living.

"I knew that if I didn't say it, that I would do it. And I... just didn't want to be alive anymore. And that was a very clear and real and frightening constant thought," she told Winfrey in the two-hour CBS spot.

Asked by Winfrey if she was having suicidal thoughts while pregnant with her first child, Meghan replied "Yes. This was very, very clear."

Meghan said she approached the palace to tell them she was having a mental health crisis.

"I went to one of the most senior people just to -- to get help," she said. "I was told that I couldn't, that it wouldn't be good for the institution."

Meghan said she ultimately reached out to one of the late Princess Diana's best friends for support.

"Who else could understand what's -- what it's actually like on the inside?"

- 'How dark his skin might be' -

Meghan, whose father is white and mother is Black, said Harry had revealed to her official concerns among the royals about the skin color of her unborn son, Archie.

"In those months when I was pregnant... we have in tandem the conversation of 'he won't be given security, he's not going to be given a title' and also concerns and conversations about how dark his skin might be when he's born," Meghan said.

"Those were conversations the family had with him."

Asked by Winfrey if the concern was that he might be "too brown," Meghan replied: "If that's the assumption you're making, I think that feels like a pretty safe one."

- 'Character assassination' -

It was sensational tabloid fodder: the story of how of Meghan made Kate Middleton cry after a bridesmaid dress fitting for Princess Charlotte.

And by Meghan's account -- it was entirely fabricated.

"Everyone in the institution knew it wasn't true," Meghan told Winfrey of the alleged incident, claiming that in reality: "The reverse happened."

Kate, she said, "was upset about something, but she owned it, and she apologized."

"A few days before the wedding, she was upset about something pertaining -- yes, the issue was correct -- about flower girl dresses, and it made me cry, and it really hurt my feelings."

Meghan called the incident "a turning point" in her relations with the royal family.

"The narrative about, you know, making Kate cry I think was the beginning of a real character assassination," she said.

"And they knew it wasn't true. And I thought, well, if they're not going to kill things like that, then what are we going to do?"

"I came to understand that not only was I not being protected but that they were willing to lie to protect other members of the family," Meghan said.

- 'Let down' -

Speaking candidly about his relationship with Prince Charles, Harry said had he felt "really let down" by his father throughout the painful episode -- but that they were now talking to one another.

"There's a lot to work through there, you know? I feel really let down, because he's been through something similar. He knows what pain feels like," an emotional Harry said.

He described Charles -- the heir to the throne -- and Harry's older brother William as "trapped" by the conventions of the monarchy, but vowed that he would "always love" his father.

"My father and my brother, they are trapped. They don't get to leave. And I have huge compassion for that."

Harry went on say that he and Meghan "did everything we could" to stay in the royal family.

"I'm sad that what's happened has happened, but I know, and I'm comfortable in knowing that we did everything that we could to make it work." 

- 'Fairytale' -

But it was not all darkness and score-settling. 

Offering royal fans a treat, the couple revealed the gender of their second child, chiming in tandem "It's a girl!" and confirming the baby was due in "summertime."

Asked if they were "done" with two children, Harry replied: "done."

"To have a boy and then a girl, I mean what more can you ask for?" he said.

"Two is it," quipped Meghan.

In a bucolic segment, Harry and Meghan offered viewers a glimpse of their "fairytale" life in California's beachside celebrity enclave of Montecito, showing off their chicken coop -- and its hens rescued from a factory farm.

And Meghan wrapped up with a hopeful look to the future, saying Harry had made a decision that "saved my life."

"And now because we're actually on the other side, we've actually not just survived but are thriving."

Asked by Winfrey if her story "does have a happy ending," Meghan replied: "It does. Greater than any fairytale you've ever read."

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In communist Vietnam, where 70 percent of the population is under 35, the classes are particularly popular with young women.

Instructor Pham Kieu Ly -- who has hundreds of thousands of followers on Instagram and TikTok -- set up the $130 course in Hanoi after women began asking her how to look their best in photos, largely for social media.

The lessons also teach aspiring amateur photographers how to take snaps themselves.

Ly told AFP she saw women in the class who wanted "to learn how to pose and take photos to help their work, while others wanted to build confidence".

Since the first class in September 2020, Ly’s day-and-a-half-long tutorial has amassed a substantial following, attracting around 500 people from a range of professions, including online merchants and estate agents. 

"The image I am aiming to create is one of a successful businesswoman," said 29-year-old Nguyen Thi Thanh Loan, who works at an insurance company, and also wants to boost her photography skills during the course.

Other participants said they were convinced beautiful photos would help them sell products on Facebook, which has more than 53 million users in Vietnam -- over half the population. The platform has become a crucial marketing tool for local business.

Nguyen Huong Tra, 29, who runs a homewear shop and sells candles and scented oils online, said: "In the past I didnt pay much attention to my images or number of followers on social media, but then I realised they are important to my business."

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