Sixty One Degrees
An occassional journal of an Asia-overland adventure
|
|
Kampot, Cambodia
Since the demise of the Khmer Rouge in 1979 the Cambodian Peoples Party have held the reins of power in Cambodia. You see signs for them outside the house of local party organisers in every village. But you also see signs for the two main opposition parties. The royalist FUNCINPEC party, and the Sam Rainsy party, under the leadership of the very outspoken Sam Rainsy. Panna, my moto-driver in Siem Reap, is a local organiser for Sam Rainsy. He's hopeful of a change in government soon, and maybe better times.
Our guide to the Bokor Hill Station near Kampot was less optimistic. "I vote for the CPP", he said. "I know they are corrupt but they've had 24 years to line their pockets. I think they should be satisfied by now. If another party gets in all their cronies will start from scratch lining their pockets."
But for all the forthright discussion and freedom of expression Cambodia is now stuck in a political quagmire. At the last election, seven months ago, the CPP lost their absolute majority, but none of the parties are willing to form a coalition. As I understand it, the functioning of government has completely ground to a halt and no-one seems to know how or when it will get started again.
Sihanoukville, Cambodia
I went to the train station to see about catching a train on the Phnom Penh line to Kampot. The train only runs at about 20km/hr but I thought it might be an experience. Not as much an experience as a few years ago. The Khmer Rouge would mine the tracks so frequently that the trains had two extra carriages on front to take the brunt of the explosion. Remarkably, they sold tickets for these carriages. The first was free and the second was half-price. Apparently they were the most popular.
Well, that was then and this was now. With the upgrade in the road to Sihanoukville, probably the best in the country, the passenger train had lost it's appeal. I discovered this as I strolled around the empty train station looking for someone to ask about tickets.
Eventually I came across a room with half-a-dozen station staff having lunch and a couple of drinks. They enthusiastically invited me in and before I knew it I was seated down, given a big plate of chicken and rice and had my glass filled with local whisky and soda. I'd bought some of this whisky before, at 2300 riel (about 25 cents) a 375ml bottle, so I knew what to expect. It actually wasn't too bad. Certainly a couple of the train drivers thought so. They were getting pretty cheerful.
The young lady preparing the food, the girlfriend of one of the drivers, spoke no english except "I love you". She sang me a nice Khmer song instead. I spoke a little with another of the drivers. He'd been to college in Russia years before and so spoke some Russian. He was now learning English from a textbook, one lesson a day. He'd only been going for a couple of months and already could hold a halting conversation. I was very impressed.
Every time I was about to leave my glass would be refilled but eventually I made my excuses about being sober for my visit to the Vietnamese Consulate and tottered out, with much hand-shaking and well-wishing.
Phnom Penh, Cambodia
It was late afternoon and I was heading back to my hotel after spending some time by the riverfront and playing pool with the locals. As I approached the six lane road that runs by the river I was amazed to see an elephant calmly walking along in the outside lane, seemingly oblivious to all the traffic and mayhem.
I decide to grab a cyclo, a three-wheeled bike with the passenger in front, back to the centre of town. A likely candidate quickly appears, a price is agreed and I jump on board. Problem is, we're on the wrong side of the road. No problem for this driver though, he just turns around and, with me leading the way, bravely pushes in to the three lanes of oncoming traffic, weaving between the cars and motos that are simultaneously weaving around us. Somehow we across to the right side of the road without incident.
As the driver puffs and pants with the exertion of cycling I'm starting to feel a bit sorry for him, until I see a cyclo heading in the other direction with five passengers. I had to count them twice to be sure!
It's tough work for the drivers though. Most of them come from the country and don't have residence permits for Phnom Penh. They can't rent an apartment, even if they could afford it, so they just sleep in their bikes. Walking around late at night you see little pockets of them here and there, half-a-dozen maybe, grouped together with their bikes and a few chairs. By ten o'clock the city is asleep, the cyclo drivers along with it.
Battambang, Cambodia
My destination today was Phnom Penh. I was too late for the bus so I headed out on a moto to the pickup truck and share taxi lot. I was immediately offered a taxi by myself for $14 but instead opted for the outside of the pickup for $2.
It was already pretty full as I climbed on-board, under the big umbrella, at about midday but I'd forgotten the Asian philosophy of "there's no such thing as full". It was not under nearly 1pm before the umbrella was whisked away and we pulled out. At that stage the little Toyota Hilux had 32 people in the back, along with all the luggage and two chickens. There were a further eight or nine in the dual cab in front. In back there were 14 people sitting on the edge, 6 in the middle, 5 on the roof of the cab, and 7 on the lowered tailgate (along with my backpack). The only concession to the human cargo was a piece of 2x4 across the back. Other than that it was strictly as it rolls off the assembly line. Luckily an extra piece of one inch tubing runs around the outside where I was, normally to secure cargo but in this case it definitely improved the comfort of sitting on the edge.
We head off down the road, jammed in so tight you can't move. Hands were on neighbour's shoulders, elbows on thighs, knees in groins. If I got any closer to the guy next to me we'd have to get married.
After a time my legs start to go numb. I have to do something so I decide to stand up. A little precarious with my daypack on my back but my colleagues helpfully hold me a little to stop me toppling over.
Back down on the edge and my legs are going numb again. This time I'm so jammed I'm not sure from looking which leg is mine.
The whole experience is strangely enjoyable though. When the discomfort of one position becomes too much only a slight movement is required (or possible) to bring relief. An amazingly nice sensation when it happens. Somewhat akin to jumping in to a cool pool after a few hours in the hot sun.
The road is mostly sealed but there are still some dirt stretches. We stop for lunch at a roadside restaurant. Everyone jumps out and heads for the large washbasin out back, to wash off the dust.
Night has fallen as we reach Phnom Penh. I join my fellow riders in drinking some strange yellow whisky through a straw from an old water bottle. Tastes okay.
We finally reach the Central Market. The end of the line for the pickup. I shake off the moto and cyclo drivers and take refuge in a local cafe. One young kid there speaks some english and we talk about football. He tries to teach me how to say "coffee with milk". His mother and sister almost fall off their chairs with laughter at my attempts. Perhaps it's my look of intense concentration.
I finally move on and, after rejecting a couple of cell-like rooms for $3, settle on a quite nice place for $7. It even has hot water which I immediately turn off. As I step under the cold water rivers of dust flow from my hair.
After an extra-long shower I collapse in to bed. Having had, in the end, quite a remarkable day.
Siem Reap, Cambodia
For my third day visiting the Angkor ruins I decided to go further afield. The girls were staying closer to Siem Reap so Panna, the driver, unfixed the back of the tuk-tuk and took me out on the bike.
First stop was Banteay Srai, a very popular and ornate temple 32km from Siem Reap. A quick visit there then I prepared myself for the next forty km's or so of dirt road to Beng Mealea. I wrapped my Moroccan scarf around my head and put my sunglasses on. "Very handsome", said Panna as I approached. "You look like Osama Bin Laden".
About two hours later, covered in dust, we reached the temple. Beng Mealea is unusual in that it has been left exactly as discovered. I was hoping for a sense of what the original explorers must have felt, coming upon these temples in the jungle. I was not disappointed. The temple was quite large and a fascinating combination of ruined walls, covered in thick tree roots and ivy, and some almost intact sections. There were even roofed corridors to explore.
I managed to shake off the local kids, offering as always to be a "guide", by ducking down a dark corridor and hiding for a few minutes. Re-emerging I starting looking for some good photo opportunities. As I took my time setting up for one difficult shot I noticed a young lad quietly watching me from a short distance away. As I finished and wrote up the entry in my journal he came down to look at the writing. Photo complete I get up to move on. "This way", he beckons. Well, it looks interesting, I'll follow. Turns out he really did know a spot that I probably wouldn't have found. After that I assigned him to be my assistant. He carried the tripod and led me to many interesting locations. Always patiently waiting for the photograph.
After a couple of hours I headed back to Panna and the bike. We still had a fair trip ahead of us to get back to Siem Reap. Sure enough, about half-way along the dirt road the back tyre is starting to go flat. We're in the middle of nowhere and there's very little traffic on this road but remarkably we've managed to break down right outside a house with a small store. They've got a tire repair toolkit so Panna starts to work.
I'm idly standing around, trying to look helpful, when wandering out of the wilderness comes the nun that I was sitting next to in the share taxi three days ago. I can hardly believe it. She walks past and I see a hint of recognition in her eyes. "Weren't you in the taxi to Siem Reap the other day", I say. "Why yes", she says, "Where are your two friends?" "Oh, they're back in town today. What brings you out here?" "Oh, my monastery is over there a little way", she says indicating towards a flat expanse of nothing. Of course, all this is done without a word being uttered.
Panna soon has the tyre fixed and we're back off again. It's just hitting dusk as we reach the outskirts of Siem Reap. Panna knows a shortcut and we're soon flying along a wide new road in an area of new development. With all the bugs in the air we both have our sunglasses on which makes for some exciting driving with the approaching night.
We're still a few kilometres out from the town proper when we get another flat tyre. This time there are no houses in sight. There's nothing for it but to start pushing the bike (well, Panna pushes, I walk). After a couple of km's, with night well and truly settled, Panna sees a house a little way off the road. He goes to investigate and sure enough, they have the tyre repair equipment. We roll the bike over and a one-legged guy starts to work on the tyre by candlelight. A couple of other people come out of the house to help, having a bit of a chuckle when they see me. I soon find my eyes drifting towards the sky and the stars and am surprised to see a very distinct constellation of red stars low in the sky. Each point of light is exactly the size and brightness of a star, but they're red and very slowly drifting upwards. I count eighteen and ask Panna what they are. "Balloons", he says, "made of paper and bamboo with a little fire below". Just like a hot air balloon. They were being sent up by a distant monastery in some sort of celebration. My eyes dropped to the one-legged man fixing the bike tyre by candlelight, then lifted again to see the new constellation raised in the sky. I found the whole thing very moving in a quite unexpected way.
I wanted to stay and watch the lights all night but the tyre was soon fixed and we were off again, speeding towards Siem Reap. The hustle and bustle of the big city was soon all around but I found I couldn't forget the red stars in the sky, peacefully rising towards the heavens.
Siem Reap, Cambodia
The ruins of Angkor beckon. Spread over a very large area about the only way to get around is by moto. We'd decided to take a tuk-tuk with space for the three of us. The most popular spot for sunrise is Angkor Wat itself, the main temple. We decided to head to the less popular, and less crowded, Bayon. Sunrise is early in these parts, about 6am, so we asked our tuk-tuk driver to pick us up at 5am. Even for a Cambodian that was too early so he convinced us to start at 5:30am.
It was still dark as we headed out, my main regret was that I was travelling with these two very beautiful ladies and no one could see it! Oh well. We picked up our US$40 three day tickets for the site and headed to the Bayon.
It was still dark when we arrived. Our driver indicated the direction we should go and we started walking, soon hitting the outer walls. We continued in to the complex, breaking out the torches and finding ourselves in a building of multiple levels and many steps and corridors. We explored as well as we could in the dark, looking for a place that might be good as the sun rose. After half an hour or so we finally chose a spot and as the light began to appear on the horizon I was amazed to be surrounded by huge heads. The girls laughed at me as this is the feature for which the Bayon is most famous.
The chosen spot turned out to be excellent and we spent a couple of hours exploring all the nooks and crannies and taking photographs in the rising light. We finally headed down from the upper levels and looked at the huge and detailed reliefs running around the outer walls.
A late breakfast and then it was off to explore the rest of Angkor Thom, the 10 square kilometre walled city for which the Bayon was the main temple. Some seven hours after being dropped off we finally went looking for our driver who quickly found us and prepared for the next place.
We shot off down the road in our little tuk-tuk to take in the temples of the Little Circuit. A 17km journey in total. The most amazing thing about the Angkor ruins is how extensive the site is. At it's height the population of the region was probably around one million and the size of the site reflects that. The other thing that impressed me was how different each temple was. There were steep pyramids, single-story buildings, straight structures, twisty structures, some with pools, some without. Every one was unique and fascinating.
We finished the day with the hordes at the hilltop temple of Phnom Bakheng, known for it's sunset view.
Our second day started the same way, in the dark. This time we headed for Sras Srang, a large artificial lake facing the sunrise. Of course, the local vendors had beaten us to it and we had to run the gauntlet of offers of breakfast and postcards. "I don't want breakfast now, just the sunrise". "Okay, I leave you alone then you have breakfast". "Maybe". This back and forth maybe a dozen times until the sun first peeks out above the low clouds. "Sun has risen now, time for breakfast!", they triumphantly cry.
Luckily we were distracted by the quite bizarre site of an entire local village getting in to the lake a short distance away. It turned out they were clearing the water in preparation for, well, something. Whatever it was it was important because there were a couple of hundred people involved in great long lines.
After all that excitement we headed off to the main attraction, Angkor Wat. A huge temple in fantastically good condition. We spent a few hours exploring but at the end I felt strangely underwhelmed. I preferred some of the smaller, more overgrown temples.
And there were plenty more of them to see on the Big Circuit, a 26km excursion taking in a whole new set of temples.
We ended the day back at Angkor Wat, trying for a photo of the elusive orange-robed monks that still wander the grounds. Hard to get without the ubiquitous check-shirted tourist.
Kampong Thom, Cambodia
Apart from a couple of border guard bribes the switch from Laos to Cambodia was pretty straight-forward. Just cross the Mekong River. It cost US$2 to exit Laos. The Cambodian guards wanted three dollars. "Three dollars", I exclaimed with surprise, "It's only two in Laos". "Okay, two dollars", they say. Nice to see that everything is negotiable.
After a couple of boat rides down the Mekong and my first exposure to Cambodian roads in a minibus I find myself in Kampong Thom with Evelyn and Natasha. We're here to see the pre-Angkor ruins of Sambor Prei Kuk. A nice little warm-up to the main event of Angkor Wat.
Northern Cambodia is littered with Angkor ruins. Unfortunately there are no roads to get to them. We'd just travelled on one of the most important roads in the country, leading from Phnom Penh to Angkor Wat and on to Thailand, and it was a mess of tar, dirt, construction and destruction. The relatively minor roads in the north would be far, far worse.
Even so, the temptation of seeing almost impossible-to-see ruins was very great. I knew that I could make a long loop to Angkor Wat via the almost lost temple of Koh Ker. It would involve a day by truck north to Tbeng Meanchey, then hiring a moto to take me and my pack west to the temple. The roads here are so poor only motorbikes can make it. The 100km or so trip would take a day so we'd have to overnight at the temple. Then it's another similar day to Siem Reap. Then the driver would have to return. It all added up to significant expense and pain but oh, it was so tempting. The alternative would be to join the girls for the relatively painless eight hours up the highway to Siem Reap.
In the end I just couldn't make up my mind so I decided to leave it in the lap of the gods. I'd go to the bus station early in the morning and just take the first thing that left, either to Tbeng Meanchey or Siem Reap.
Well, it turned out that Siem Reap won the day, a pickup was half-ready to go. After grabbing some breakfast and some munchies we decided to go luxury class and travel "inside" rather than the cheaper "outside". This meant that the three of us plus a nun were jammed in the back seat of the dual-cab. We were squeezed in so tight that I ended up nursing the nun's little travel bag.
A short eight hours later, after bouncing along one of the best roads in Cambodia, but one which wouldn't even be open to traffic in most countries, we found ourselves in Siem Reap. The usual gaggle of moto-drivers crowded around the truck waiting for us to get out. They're initial offers to take us in to the city were way above the mark so we started walking. Sure enough, three follow us and soon offer a price that's a third as much. My driver shows his skill by managing to crash us in to Natasha's bike during a left-hand turn. We just sort of bounce of each other and nothing more is thought of it. Happens all the time in these parts.