So, back in Bangkok. The worst place to arrive feeling dirty, because it excels at making you feel nasty whatever your state. Hopefully Ross will get back from Ayutthaya today and I will get to see him one more time before I fly out to London tomorrow. He has knicked my Thai Airways blanket and I do intend to retrieve it.
I am out of money and surviving on cantaloupe chewing gum and water. It's a good life.
I really can't even describe Angkor. It's not something you can't put into words. It's one of the seven wonders of the modern world. There's good reason for that. Speeding on the back of a motorbike into the temple's domain at sunrise, rosy mist hanging above the calm moat waters. Making your way carefully over the broken stones that make up a 500 meter walkway to the inner wall of the complex. Finding your personal viewing space amidst the crowds. Watching as the sillhouette of the wat becomes more and more defined, until the day has truly begun. It's magic.
I'm concerned about the land and temples being preserved. It seems inevitable that the area will be marketed until each stone is worn into the ground. Go there.
Kip and I had our last meal together at Chhouk Rath (chook wrath!), a restaurant we'd been frequenting with such diligence that they knew how Kip took her spaghetti. The next day we would be separating. She, heading back to Bangkok, I, to Phnom Pehn. She was an awesome travelling companion and made my trip that much more enjoyable. Plus she's funny as and kept me smiling even when I was vomiting and bleeding. What more can you ask for? Our goodbyes in the morning weren't too sad, as we'll be seeing each other in a week!
I took the speed boat to Phnom Pehn. It takes 10 hours on a bus but only four on the boat, so I couldn't really refuse the speediness due to former bus rides from Hades. The "Friendship", as the vessel was called, was rather frightening. It was just a tin can, but luckily it floated. The scenery was astounding. I had been to the floating village before, but as we got out onto the lake and rode near the shore you could see that people live on these rafts, floating houses and boats all the way around the lake.
I settled into a guesthouse on Boeng Kak lake once in Phnom Pehn and went on a little walk. That turned into a big walk, all the way to Tuol Sleng Museum. I had been planning to go there on my second day, but there was just so much time left in the day I thought, why not.
On the 15th April 1975 Pol Pot, the leader of the Khmer Rouge, invaded Phnom Pehn. He took control of a local high school and turned it into a detainment center called Security Camp 21 (or S-21). He divided some classrooms into small cells, barely big enough to squeeze into. Others were kept as large multi-prisoner cells. 1000's of prisoners came in and out of those doors. 17000. He detained former Cambodian army leaders and anti-Khmer Rouge revolutionaries. But he did not just capture the men he thought were against him. He took their wives, their children, newborn babies. They were all kept under horrible conditions, tortured, beaten and ultimately brought to a patch of land 15 km away to be killed. They were mostly all bludgeoned to death, to avoid wasting ammunition. This happened over the course of about four years. When the Vietnamese army stormed in to liberate Phnom Pehn, remaining prisoners at the camp were beaten to death. Seven people were alive when the Vietnamese arrived. They were the only detainees out of the 17,000 to survive their stay at Tuol Sleng.
The grounds of the museum are dotted with frangipani trees. The rooms are full of sunlight. The lawns are tidy and green. Children play at the back of the buildings with balls and nets. You can hear them laughing as you walk from room to room, looking at the meticulously documented photographs of the people who were held here. Row upon row of young men, elderly monks, young girls, toddlers, babies in their mothers arms. Black and white faces with modern designs on their t-shirts and bewildered, battered looks. Ín another building you can see the rooms containing nothing more than beds where people were brought to be tortured and where the final victims were found after their hurried and horrific deaths. A picture hangs on each wall of the body as it was found; mouths open, skulls crushed, chests bloody, arms dangling. It was a terrifying place to visit on my own. And after careful consideration of my state upon completing the tour, I opted to skip the killing fields (where the detainees were brought to be beaten to death en masse) and head out of Phnom Pehn the next morning.
I took a bus south, to the ocean. We tangled ourselves in the mountains and untangled again at the sea. I'm in Sihanoukville; a pretty, undeveloped seaside community that I'm lucky to see before the high-rises and resorts arrive. I got in with time to see the sunset last night and it made me silently cry.
We woke up late as we are failures at getting an early start to the day. After a breakfast of pasta (breakfast of champions) we took a bumpy tuk tuk ride to the Landmine Museum. Since I was there last year the government has come and stolen a truck load of weapons and mines from his display. They give Aki Ra (to whom the museum and history belongs) a small commision to bring people through the Siem Reap War Museum, but it is next to nothing. He fears that soon they will come back with a bigger truck and take what is left. He has some new stories, articles and histories of his orphans posted to fill blank spaces left by the government's theft. There are about eight orphans living in his already small huts. All of them have lost parents due to landmine or UXO explosions or from a Khmer Rouge attack on a village. It was an amazing experience, even having been there before. The museum could be gone at any moment and I'm glad to have seen it.
While we were there a monkey jumped on Kip.
For sunset we rode out to Tonle Sap. With a German couple we chartered a boat and rode through the rafts, houses, schools, boats, churches and markets to the lake. I just love everything about this trip and know that I will do it again and again each time I return to Siem Reap. As the brilliant sun blazes towards the horizon the water sends willowy beams of light into the boat, illuminating the splintering ceiling and everyone's face. The cloth tied around the roof is thin and the sun shines through it with brilliant force. Children row by in their own small boats or perhaps a tin bucket. They are all naked and golden and smiling like they know no other way to hold themselves. They wave even if it breaks their rhythm and their vessel is beaten by the sloshing of our giant boat.
There were lots of reasons to cry while we were in Laos, but I'd prefer to remember all the menu items that made us laugh. Now a brief game of catch-up:
Luang Prabang was a gorgeous city tucked into the surrounding mountains and cut into a peninsula by the rivers that formed its border. The food was good, the people were lovely; we did not realize how good we had it.
Ahead to our exit from Luang Prabang: Vinyl deathtrap-rocket. Sitting in a mobile sauna. Blasting off on the road from Luang Prabang to Vientiene. Spewing bolts and spraying dust. We skidded along the edge of the cliffs, dodging motorbikes and honking enthusiastically at anything with movement.
Vientiene=nightmare. Walked around dreading a night in our stuffy cubicle. Tried to find some restaurants with more to offer our vegetarian than "mixed vegetables with oyster sauce". Found a bar offering "eggs with another thing's inside". Decided against that bewildering option and finally ate Indian for the third night in a row. It was Ross' birthday so I gave him the bone carving necklace I made in Rangitukia, New Zealand. Tears and sad speeches ensued. Next morning Kip and I rose before dawn to venture out to Pha That Luang, a large temple at which a yearly festival is held. 200,000+ monks waiting for alms from about twice as many people. Something to behold. We waited about an hour and a half for the chants and praying to begin then we started to leave as the alms-giving commenced as it was obviously going to become chaotic. I tried to snap some photos, but nothing could possibly capture the scale on which this celebration took place.
As we walked back to our guesthouse I started feeling nauseas which I read as hungry. I rented two double rooms in a posh guesthouse as a present to Ross and an escape for Kip and I from the miseries of the grey, lifeless city. After settling in, we grabbed some lunch at a harmless looking cafe. I felt sick immediately. I spent the whole remainder of the day in bed, sending Ross and Yoko to buy bus tickets to Pakse for 7am the next day. Unfortunately that night, well 4am actually, I passed out in the bathroom. I woke up under the sink, which greatly disturbed me. My lip was bleeding, my nose sore and my head aching. I started to cry loudly. I think it was more to assure myself that I was still alive than to get attention. I tried to sit up and fell backwards blacking out again though still wailing. Kip came in and I managed to sit up and ask her to get Ross. We would have to postpone the departure.
It took another day to recover. We set out for the bus with low expectations. They were not met or exceeded. It was an uncomfortable 11 hour ride, with about 10000000000000 stops for food. It seemed that we would barely pull away from a road side vendor when the brakes would screech us to a halt and we'd be waiting for the masses to purchase more sticky rice, birds-on-sticks, frogs-on-sticks, furry whiskey, egg with chicken fetus inside, on and on. The food stops extended the trip a good 2-3 hours. No exaggeration.
After a night in Pakse we headed off on a bus to Don Khong, the largest island in an archipelago in the Mekong, Southern Laos. It was a quaint, friendly area and we felt great relief to be in a hospitable place. We rented bikes for a leisurely ride one day and took a boat trip to spot the irrawaddy dolphins another. Kip and I managed to see five dolphins dipping in and out of the water. It was a poorly executed boat trip in a vessel loud enough to deafen the earless, but just to see them was exciting. There are only around 100 left in this river because of "explosive fishing" in Cambodia (basically a charge is detonated underwater which kills everything within range) so it felt special to see five. It was Ross' turn to feel ill that day, so he missed that part of the trip unfortunately. Hopefully we will go back there one day when we can see Laos in a more relaxed and optimistic way. Overall I believe the country has a lot to offer, we just happened upon some unfortunate people and occasions. I do want to see more of the north and perhaps return to 4,000 islands for more exploration.
It was so good to cross the border back into Thailand. We were embarrassed, but overjoyed to see a 7-11. Just the thought of all that "safe" food made us giddy. We took an overnight train from Ubon Ratchathani but they only had 3rd class seats which meant sitting up the entire 11 hour journey. Agony! But we survived. Ross went straight to an ATM when we arrived into Bangkok's Hualumphong station and figured out that he had more money than he originally thought, but less than he really needed. He and Yoko opted to stay in Thailand and spend some time in the islands.
Kip and I wasted no time getting to the bus station and hopping on bus for Aranyaprathet. From there we crossed the border into Poipet, Cambodia. This border just gives me the creeps. You feel like something bad could happen at any second. There are massive casinos that loom above you with dangerous distraction, children begging and, if you let them, pocket-pinching, men trying to shout at you, touts trying to bargain with you, dogs trying to infect you. Lonely Planet says simply "it's a hole". I think it's worse than that, but that's a good way to sum up. We rented a Toyota Camry and driver to take us the 3.5 hours to Siem Reap. We are here now, well-fed and grinning. It is lovely to be here. It's a blessing to be healthy. I adore Cambodia and can't wait to tell you all about Angkor Take Two!
This is a time when keeping a food journal would prove most useful. I have become violently ill, most likely due to something I ate. I won't go into the gross details, but last night whilst in the bathroom I fainted and fell under the sink, bloodying my lip and knocking my head. When I awoke I started to wail and passed out again, this time falling backwards into the shower. I asked Kip to go upstairs and get Ross. It was four in the morning and we were meant to be leaving in a few hours to catch a 13 hour bus to Pakse. I told him there was no way I would be able to get on a bus and survive that kind of journey. So we're in Vientiene for another night. There is a lot to catch up on, I just can't do it right now.
we crossed into laos without incident. after weighing our options (a slow boat that takes two days to luang prabang or a fast boat that only takes six hours but has a fatal accident several times a month) we decided to skip both and take a flight. no planes flying from huay xai to luang prabang today, but we bought seats leaving tomorrow morning. lao aviation has a brilliant safety record, but i'm not sure if that's because they are actually safe or because they have so few flights. anyway, the guidebook says not to be alarmed if there are missing seat belts and broken seats on the plane. oh, i'm sure we won't be... kip will be taking valium and i'll just be laughing.
we can see chiang khong, thailand across the river but already things are different. laos' currency is the kip. their highest note is a 5000 note which amounts to less than $US.50. things are inexpensive here, but they could do with a 10000 or 20000 note. i changed the equivalant to $US50 and have a serious stack of bills (over 500,000 kip). bling bling.
the children constantly smile here and are all anxious to shout "sabadee" (hello) and play waving games. gorgeous people and we are only at the border. i have a feeling this country will be easily adored.
You think it's annoying here? At least you can scroll down, ignore it if you choose. At least you're not trying to sleep through a dozen stupified, opium-smoking, freakishly-AWAKE-after-four-hours-of-trekking-straight-uphill-into-the-mountains people who are inches away from your head and separated only through a bamboo wall.
Yesterday, Kip and I began a two day trek into the mountains of northern Thailand, beyond Chiang Mai. It started off poorly as the truck picked us up for the first leg of the trip and we circled town gathering trekkers. First there was the dreaded party-Pom, who is starting to age and therefore must drink and smoke and sleep with as many people as possible before they become too decrepit to move. He would not shut up about his Thai whiskey. How it wasted him. How good it was. How he wanted to pick some up to bring into the mountains. It's colour. It's taste. It's superiority to whiskey elsewhere in the world. As we drove from one guesthouse to the next picking people up the truck became really crowded. When everyone was loaded in, there were people standing on the back of the bed, outside.
We wound our way through the countryside and into the hills where we stopped for lunch. Then we grabbed our bags and went to climb onto our transportation up the first part of the hill: elephants. I adore these creatures. They are massive, but somehow possess grace. And though they are grey and wrinkly and have spiky little hairs all over, somehow they are beautiful. Must all be in their sweet eyes. I had mixed feelings about being up there. It was a really unique experience. Kip kept saying "I can't believe where we are" and it was truly special to be trapsing through the jungle on the back of an elephant. But everytime he slowed down or went off to grab a quick snack of bamboo, the guide would swat his legs with a switch!
We reached the end of the riding and put on our packs for the acsent into the hills. Oh. My. God. The heat was oppressive. I don't know if I've used these words before to describe my experiences in the heat, but there is no better word. In seconds we were dripping with sweat, labouring and gasping for breath. Our guide was sprinting up the muddy slopes and I could barely convince my legs to lift themselves. Finally, after about an hour, I gave in and had one of the guides carry my pack. I felt so ashamed, but I didn't think I could make myself go any further with the oddly shaped rucksack pulling on my shoulders. Even still it was torturous. The bugs, the heat, the humidity, the slippery track, the prickly vines that stuck tiny thorns in your skin if you brushed them. Once we were in the home stretch and had the tribal village in sight it grew a little easier. My spirit brightened.
Our accomodation for the night was a bamboo hut with three rooms. We climbed a bit of a wooden ramp and to the right was our sleeping room, with mats laid out on the floor and mossie nets hanging from the ceiling. Passing that room you came to a deck, with views of the hills, village and surrounding mountains. To the left was the room used as a kitchen (though there was no eletricity) and another room that seemed to have no purpose until later that evening.
We all lined up to use the shower (a hose with a shower nozzle on it) and, once clean, amused ourselves. For some that meant cracking open their beers. For others it meant strumming the guitar gently. For Kip and I it meant wandering from viewpoint to viewpoint, snapping photographs of the village and the mountains of Burma, drenched in purple and blue by the fading light and draped in heavy clouds. We were dying to eat dinner and head straight to sleep. Dinner took forever. Finally it arrived, completely vegetarian, much to Kip's relief. Afterwards children from the village came, dressed in native costumes. They danced and sang to us in their our language (which is not Thai, as they have migrated from Burma and speak their own dialect). I snapped photographs and afterwards many of the children crowded around as I displayed the pictures on my camera's LCD.
We got changed and laid down, hoping to fall asleep instantly. This was definitely wishful thinking. We were in one of the most serene places on earth. But these fools had no idea where they were. They may as well have been back in Bangkok at a pub. They drank. They peed off the deck. They talked as loudly as possible, though everyone could have heard a whisper up there. They went into the next room to smoke large amounts of opium, like it was some kind of amusement park ride and you just had to smoke this local plant or you wouldn't experience the whole occasion. Worst of all, they sang. Unfortunately there was a very limited catalogue for these people to choose from. They seemed to know very few songs between them. No one really knew how to play guitar, they were just all taking turns strumming out dribble. And since no one knew any one song all the way through most songs consisted of many la las or na nas, followed by a belting roar of the chorus:
HEY JUDE la la na na na na na na na na na na na na na REMEMBER la na na na na na na na na na na na na MAKE IT BETTER!
knock knock knockin on heaven's dooooooor knock knock knockin on heaven's dooooooor knock knock knockin on heaven's dooooooor knock knock knockin on heaven's dooooooor knock knock knockin on heaven's dooooooor knock knock knockin on heaven's dooooooor knock knock knockin on heaven's dooooooor knock knock knockin on heaven's dooooooor knock knock knockin on heaven's dooooooor knock knock knockin on heaven's dooooooor knock knock knockin on heaven's dooooooor (this went on and on, just this fragment of the song)
desperado la la la la la la la la SENSES you've been na na na na na na
buffalo soldier in la na na na nAmerica brana na na la na na
let me be let me be let me be let me be speaking words la na na let me be
WELCOME TO THE HOTEL CALIFORNIA such a na na na na na la la la
No woman no cry no woman no cry do you remember la la la na na
After a short period we wanted to kill ourselves. It was so obnoxious. It was embarrassing. I was completely mortified to be with these people. We slept very little.
Today there was a trecherous hike down a hill was just one muddy slip to the next. Our machete-wielding guide made us bamboo walking sticks which just went flailing each time we slipped. Eventually we came out to a waterfall where we were given a generous ten minute break before heading out again. When we finally reached the bottom we hopped into rubber rafts and did some white water rafting down the river. It was pretty tame rafting, but was still quite enjoyable. Then we switched for bamboo rafts and continued down a lazy, calm stretch.
I can't say that I regret the experience. I'm glad I went and saw what I did. The mountains are absolutely stunning, just hard to appreciate when you're whizzing by them to keep up with the group. In the few moments of muted noise we enjoyed as the sun set over Burma we were able to fleetingly appreciate the setting. The villages and their people seem so gracious and lovely. I just wish I could have enjoyed a night of peace in the far reaches of this country. As always, I am horrified by the lack of respect and decency some travellers have for the areas they are visiting. I can only say that the village we visited had been totally devastated by the countless trekkers that had passed through.
Heading to Laos tomorrow.