August 31, 2007

Bangkok (THAILAND)

Seeing a Fortune-Teller, Touring Bangkok, and Dinner with Jo's Parents

Jo and I were up at 6am this morning in order to make it to our morning appointment with the fortune-teller. We grabbed a quick bite to eat before finding a cab driver willing to drive us all the way out to his home (most drivers are hawks preying on tourists who want to see the "big sights"). It was a long ride as Bangkok's traffic is notoriously bad, but when we finally arrived the cab driver was amazed when he realized who we were going to see. Apparently, this fortune-teller writes for the Bangkok Post, has written several books, and advises a slew of Thailand's big personalities. We were excited and nervous at the same time because we had no idea what to expect.

When we were granted admission through the front gate we respectfully removed our shoes and left them near the Mercedes-Benz parked outside (the man must be doing all right). We followed the assistant inside where we were cheerfully greeted in the fortune-teller's office amid a collection of various Chinese paraphernalia. There were pictures of the king adorning the walls along with intricately ornamented wooden carvings scattered throughout the room. Everything looked very cluttered (much like a well-traveled journalist's office would look), while the fortune-teller himself was calmly resting behind a large desk.

The first thing he had us do was write down our full name as well as the date and approximate time of our birth. He looked us over as we were doing this, and as I chose to have my fortune told first he began punching my information into a small electronic device that reminded me of a typewriter (he said it was a machine he created some time ago). The fortune-teller had only stubs for fingers, so he held a pencil in the palm of his hand to do all the key punching. When he finished keying in my information, the machine continued clicking away in the corner as it printed off seemingly incomprehensible figures and numbers. Next, he pulled out a massive astrological tome that he began thumbing through.

When the actual telling began, he started a tape recording and began by telling me my astrological information (mostly simple facts from the Chinese zodiac). Then, the real stuff began. He started talking about how I was a student who is decisive, but the trouble is I can never stick to the same decision for very long and I often think I would be better off quitting school to pursue a different path. He said this was a bad idea and the best path for me was to finish school as my "big break" would come just after my 27th birthday. He said this was also the age I should get married as I will be finished with all my studies by then, and my wealth will be following shortly - and a lot of wealth was to come. I was also advised to follow my father in business, and to listen more closely to the advise he gives me.

The fortune-teller went on to talk about which Chinese zodiacs suit me (I was born in the year of the tiger), but it was when I asked about health that more interesting tidbits emerged. He pointed out that I once had a problem with one of my legs that came about through sports (I have had knee surgery because of soccer) and that my father had a very similar problem when he was my age (he also had knee surgery because of basketball). Most of the other stuff was fairly generic, but when Jo had her fortune told he said she would suffer a minor accident in November or December (i.e. falling down the stairs or something similar). This isn't the kind of thing someone likes to hear, and it annoyed me that the man would say something like this - especially when it very well could happen to anyone.

We were charged more money than I care to admit, but we left feeling we had at least received a genuine fortune-telling. I will never see a fortune-teller again because I am now positive it is all a load of rubbish, but it was a worthwhile experience and it makes for a great story in the future. Nevertheless, I want to emphasize that the things I chose to include on this webpage were the somewhat true pieces of information while all the other stuff was well off the mark. For example, he said I was very lazy and he talked a lot about Chinese values.

In the afternoon, Jo and I toured downtown Bangkok and visited the giant Buddha at Wat Pho temple. Afterward, we headed back to the Khao San road to check out of our guest house and gather our belongings (it was a long morning). We would be spending the night at her parent's place, and on the way we stopped to pick up her visa at the Myanmar embassy.

We were greeted by Jo's mom at her home and spent the afternoon chatting. One of the biggest topics was our next travel destination: Myanmar [Burma]. A spate of protests recently began in Myanmar over rising gasoline prices, and the brutal regime has cracked down on dissidents. Jo's father has business contacts there who we can contact should something go wrong, but as long as we stay away from everything that is going on we should be fine. The ruling junta in Myanmar is not the kind of government I want to mess around with as they are well-known perpetrators of violence and abuse.

Later in the evening, I went out to dinner with Jo's parents at a posh restaurant in downtown Bangkok. Since I only had backpacking clothes with me, I made Jo dress equally grunge. It was our first taste of quality food (and wine) in quite a long time, and as everyone at the table is an avid Arsenal supporter (Jo has season tickets) we always had plenty to talk about. But the coincidences didn't end with our mutual love of the Gunners: Jo's father studied at the same college in Oxford as me (Worcester), and they actually know the Oxford coordinator at my university, Georgia Tech. We all realized what a small, small world we live in.

August 30, 2007

Bangkok (THAILAND)

Catching Our Breath in Bangkok and Finding a Fortune Teller in Chinatown

Our over-night bus from Ubon Ratchathani arrived in Bangkok at 4am this morning, and we quickly took a taxi to the Khao San road to find a place to sleep. The Khao San road is famous among on the travel circuit in Southeast Asia because it is to backpackers what Las Vegas is to gamblers. It embodies the best and the worst of aspects of the backpacking lifestyle as it caters to people of all shapes and sizes, basically offering anything anyone could possibly want.

We checked into a quiet guest house a few blocks away from the ever-noisy Khao San, and after showering and freshening up Jo went to visit her parents (they live in Bangkok). I had the morning and afternoon free to catch up on activities like getting a haircut, replenishing my supplies, and buying cheap clothes to replace those already lost (usually when they are not returned from the laundry).

In the afternoon I settled down at a cafe and started reading a book Jo gave me called A Fortune-Teller Told Me. The story is about an Italian journalist who visited a fortune teller in Hong Kong, and was subsequently warned of a plane crash in 1991. I do not want to give the story away, but I was intrigued by the idea of visiting a real fortune-teller - not just the kind of tarot card reader you can find on any street in Asia. I have always believed fortune-telling was utter nonsense, but for whatever reason the novelty of it all had me hooked.

When Jo returned in the afternoon I ran the idea by her and she seemed to give her approval - or more likely she was just gracious enough to keep her real thoughts to herself. Since neither of us had any idea how to find a fortune teller in Bangkok, we decided taxied to Chinatown and started searching there. The process of finding a fortune teller in Chinatown seemed simple while riding in the taxi, but once we hopped out onto the busy street of Chinatown reality began setting in. How the hell does one go about finding a fortune teller?

We started by going up and down side streets asking people if they knew a fortune teller. When our English yielded only blank stares I switched to Mandarin hoping for more success - it was Chinatown, after all. Despite most of the people being of Chinese descent, no one seemed to speak Mandarin, and if they did it was an obscure dialect such as Hokkien . Jo was hardly surprised as most Bangkok Chinese are third or fourth generation Chinese and already lost most of their roots. I began worrying because I felt like this was a hopeless cause, but I didn't want to go back empty-handed.

Our big break came as we passed a carpet shop where I spotted a well-ornamented Buddhist shrine tucked away in the back of the shop. We walked in and I began asking the woman behind the counter (in Mandarin) if she could help us. Immediately, her son came over with a big grin on his face. Not only was he surprised I was speaking Mandarin, but he was even more surprised two Westerners were seeking out a fortune teller. In Chinese culture, fortune tellers are as much a part of daily life as gambling, the strength of the family, and the everlasting love of money.

Word quickly spread of what we were looking for as old women were called over, phone calls were made, and stacks of business cards were scoured. Apparently, the shop's owner's aunt uses Bangkok's most famous fortune-teller, and after nearly an hour of waiting they found the phone number for us. What a turn of events: Jo and I went from thinking this entire ordeal was a hopeless endeavor that was stupid to begin with to winding up with the best fortune-teller in Bangkok. We said goodbye to everyone in the shop - several of the old women were still beside themselves that I could speak Mandarin - and found a payphone to schedule an appointment.

When I called a secretary answered the phone, but she spoke no English and our spirits quickly dropped. Fortunately, the fortune-teller came on the line and he spoke great English. Since Jo and I were planning to fly to Myanmar in two days we arranged to meet the following day. Although it was the fortune-teller's day off, he agreed to meet us at 8am at his home. We wrote down the address, said goodbye, and gave each other one of those funny looks that seemed to say "What the hell just happened?!"

For the remainder of the evening we hung out at a bar along the Khao San road and chatted with all the drunk travelers who happened by. We couldn't stay out too long though because we had an important meeting in the morning. I wonder if the fortune-teller already knew whether we would be on time or not? I figured I would ask him in the morning, if I could remember.

August 29, 2007

Bolaven Plateau (LAOS)

Twin Waterfalls and Heading to Bangkok

Our streak of early mornings continued unabated this morning as we rose to catch the 7am sawngthaew to Pakse. There was a light rain the entire morning so we sat crouched (and freezing) inside for the four hour journey.

When we finally reached Pakse we hired a local sawngthaew driver to take us the remaining 50km to a set of twin waterfalls we heard were amazing (there are pictures of the falls posted through Laos). As we were planning on crossing back into Thailand later in the day we were worried about making it to the border before it closed, and we simply couldn't risk taking local transport.

Our attempts to bargain for a cheap ride meant we ended up with a cheap sawngthaew, and on the way to the falls it began to fail. After stopping at a local gas station and working on the engine we set off again, and fortunately there were no hiccups.

When we arrived at the entrance to the park we were somewhat put off by the lack of tourists and the rainy, dreary weather. However, our spirits quickly lifted as we neared the falls and heard the thunderous crashing of water. Despite the nasty weather, the twin falls were attention-grabbing and well worth the effort spent getting out here.

We decided to eat lunch at a small Thai restaurant (penang curry and mixed vegetables served over white rice) while overlooking the falls. Afterward, we hung around for a while longer to enjoy our last moments at the falls, and then we bought a few knick-knacks from the stalls stationed outside.

We rode the sawngthaew back to Pakse and hopped in an old-school taxi  for the one hour ride to the Laos-Thailand border. We crossed just before the border closed for the day and then took a man up on his offer to drive us to the nearest transport hub, Ubon Ratchathani. We found it strange the man was driving us so far for only 100 baht/person, but the reasoning became clear after 15 minutes when he pulled off on the side of the road. Shortly afterward, another car pulled up behind us and we switched into a beat up sedan that was heading in the same direction. Everything made more sense now because this car was in horrible condition, and after ten minutes of driving Jo and I smelled gas! In the back of the car was a propane tank with tubing connecting the tank to the underside of the car. We never figured out what the propane was powering, but we stopped at five gas stations for the two hour ride - never filling up more than 15 seconds on any stop! Jo and I were quite worried on the ride, but there wasn't much we could do except continue onward.

We reached Ubon Ratchathani safely and caught an overnight bus to Bangkok with only fried rice and potato chips for the long ride.

August 28, 2007

Si Phan Don (LAOS)

Bicycling to the Mekong Rapids at the Laos-Cambodia Border

Jo and I were up with the sun this morning so we could check out of our guest house and still make it in time for our 8am boat departure. Last night we booked a seat on a small boat heading to the southern islands of Si Phan Don. We planned to have a day of bicycling and touring the Mekong rapids at the Laos-Cambodia border before returning to Don Kong in the afternoon. We were in a bit of a hurry to head north so we were planning to hire private transport when we returned. It felt like we could never catch a break and this was quickly shaping up to be yet another long and tiring day.

The pace started off relaxing enough as we rode two hours along the Mekong - reading our books and taking pictures en route. We were joined on the boat by two separate Austrian couples (they were the ones who originally recruited us to come as it cut down costs).

We got dropped off at 10am with only a goodbye waive and confirmation that the boat would be back to pick us up at 3pm. No one was particularly sure what to do next as we were literally on a small dirt path amid a string of wooden shacks lining the river, but after a short walk we found a place renting out bicycles. We all hopped on and set off down muddied paths (it rained all through the night) with brakes that didn't work. We must have looked a bit odd to the locals we passed as this is one of the few places on earth globalization still hasn't reached. Typically even the remotest of places have a satellite dish here or a TV there, but Si Phan Don has happily eluded such progress.

Below is a series of interesting photos taken while cycling. One of the pictures is particularly classic, and I am debating whether I should use it as my Christmas card for friends/family this year. I like to think it is George Bush in front followed by Tony Blair and John Howard.

Now that I have angered three of the most militarily active (and powerful) countries in the world I would like to say this was all in good fun. No hate emails, please. More seriously, here are a few other photos we took that will give a better indication of what the scenery for the 8km bicycle ride was like...

After an hour of cycling we reached an old Japanese bridge that was the only concrete structure we saw during our entire stay on the islands. In retrospect, I have no idea what this bridge was doing in southern Laos as it was quite impressive and sturdy. Anyway, we crossed the bridge and reached the southernmost island of Don Det. From the bridge it was only a couple more kilometers to the rapids that form the natural border between Laos and Cambodia. The path became even worse en route, and I was nearly successful on one of my childish attempts to force Jo into the mud. Sometimes I juts can't help being such a charming guy.

We had plenty of warning before we reached the rapids as the roar of the river could be heard from a long way off. The pictures below don't do  justice to the magnitude of the rapids, but they are the best I have got.

Before cycling back for lunch, Jo and I continued on to a small swimming area we were told about. Although the water resembled sewage and there was no one around (meaning we weren't really sure how safe it was to go swimming) neither one of us wanted to miss out on the chance to swim in the mighty Mekong River.

The water was a bit cold and our feet sunk six inches in the muck, but it was still fun splashing about. I was grateful I left my boxers on when I jumped in because two local Laos men came by after 15 minutes. It might have been a bit awkward getting out, otherwise. Speaking of getting out, we decided it was a good idea when something slid across both our legs at the same time. Sadly, I think I jumped higher than Jo.

We met the Austrian couples near the Japanese bridge for a relaxing lunch along the river. Both Jo and I have the exact same preference in food (with the sole exception being I love an excessive number of chilies), so we continued our habit of sharing dishes. This always works to our advantage because Asian dishes are meant to be shared. Typically, we order a plate of mixed vegetables, a meat dish, two steamed rice, and at least one large bottle of the local beer.

On the way back to the pick-up point my bicycle got a flat tire and I gave my legs a work-out I will probably come to regret. Making matters worse, I gave two small Laos boys a lift for a couple kilometers - one on my handle bars and another riding on the back. We drew a lot of attention from all the locals we passed and I could tell the boys were enjoying it just as much as I was.

The boat ride back to Don Kong took twice as long as we were fighting the current this time. By the time we arrived it was time for dinner, and we figured we might as well spend the night here and continue onward in the morning. We enjoyed a late dinner drinking and eating along the water with the Austrian couples before passing out from exhaustion.

August 27, 2007

Si Phan Don (LAOS)

Traveling to the 4000 Islands in Southern Laos

Having seen most of what Champasek has to offer yesterday, Jo and I were once more packed and ready to hit the road early this morning. Our target for the evening was to reach Si Phan Don (meaning 4000 Islands) by nightfall, which is over 100 miles south of Champasek. We were once more at a loss as to how we would get there, but we were told that if we waited by the only road heading south we could eventually hail down a lift. We figured this meant it would be another long day on the road so we relaxed over breakfast as the mighty Mekong rolled along ten feet below us.

When we finally got going we backtracked along our route from yesterday - motorbike to the ferry, cross the Mekong River, and walk to the side of the road where we waited. Fortunately, a sawngthaew came by without too much fuss, but it was already full of people so our only option was to ride on the roof. We threw our backpacks atop and scurried up the side as the truck started pulling off. We were the only ones up there and we were once more sitting atop piles of baggage so we were both free to sprawl out under the mid-morning sun.

Well, I thought I was free to do sprawl out, but that was before I felt something moving under my legs. I looked down and saw a thick plastic bag with holes cut into it so fresh air could get in. My first thought was "Holy s***! Snakes!" and I jumped away. After prodding the bag I realized it was only chickens in there (three in total), and I did my best to keep them away from bothering us.

Imagine: there we were, riding on the roof of a sawngthaew in southern Laos with chickens scuttling around in a plastic bag between us. How I love life on the road!

By 3pm we reached the ferry crossing for Don Kong, the primary island in the Si Phan Don region. We had a one hour wait as there was only one ferry and no one is ever in a rush in Laos. In the mean time we sat at a small noodle stall on the side of the road and had a bite to eat. We bought a couple bottles of Beer Laos that we shared with a group of locals, and once more we received the warmest welcoming possible - it was obvious that these locals never get to interact in such a way with a white foreigner. To make things even more interesting, I challenged a local man to a chili eating contest, and I stupidly ate two 2" chilies (one green and one red). I love spicy things and have never met some one who can handle more than me, but even this made me break into a sweat and I was overcome with hiccups. Actually, it probably wasn't hiccups but rather my body's feeble attempt to regurgitate what I just forced down it. Oh well, it's all about earning respect.

We crossed the Mekong river on another ferry and checked into a guesthouse for the night. The island was even more deserted than Champasek, and there was quite literally no identifiable center of town. It was perfect for us because - for the second night in a row - we were the only ones checked in our guest house and we had a chance to relax.

Later in the evening we ate dinner at the only place with foreigners (seven in total), and after striking a conversation with a married Austrian couple we decided to join them the following day on a boat/bicycle tour of the Mekong rapids. So much for sleeping in tomorrow!

August 26, 2007

Champasek (LAOS)

Crossing into Laos and Climbing a Khmer Temple at Champasek

As much as Jo and I wanted to rest this morning, we knew there was too much to be done for us to idly waste time. We were planning to cross the border into Laos (pronounced with the 's'), and then travel south to the town of Champasek where we could sleep on the river and see more Khmer ruins. With this itinerary in mind and absolutely no idea how we were going to make it all happen we set off early for the Ubon Ratchathani bus station. We found a 9:30am departure for the Laos border town of Pakse and booked ourselves a seat. In the mean time, we both sat down to a plate of fried rice and chicken with hot Thai coffee. Whenever I catch myself eating something like fried rice for breakfast I start worrying that perhaps I am becoming too Asian.

At the border crossing, Jo picked up a Laos visa for less than half what I paid in Hanoi (another thing I hated about Vietnam were the inflated prices). It was a startling contrast to go from Thailand to Laos because travel is absurdly easy in Thailand while it was obvious southern Laos has hardly changed in the last 50 years. The worst part was the sweltering heat which had both of us dripping sweat in no time at all.

When we got off the bus in Pakse we quickly changed money and hopped on a sawngthaew (cheap public transport) for part of the journey to Champasek. We were dropped off at a ferry boat crossing where we climbed aboard amid a swarm of locals - both of us were praying the ferry wouldn't sink. While I went around taking photos Jo took a liking to a small girl selling packs of bubble gum. We bought a pack from her and gave her a stick; the look on her face was priceless. Jo decided to give her a headband as well, and the girl could not possibly have been beaming any more brightly.

After we crossed to the other side of the Mekong river we hopped on a motorbike with a small trailer attached. We rode this to the center of Champasek, which was no more than a collection of seven wooden buildings - three of which were guest houses. We were pleasantly surprised by the absence of any real activity in the town and after booking a cheap room on the river we continued on toward the Khmer ruins.

At the entrance to the ruins was an impressive museum containing priceless artifacts that were expertly compiled and documented by UNESCO. At this point, Jo and I are well-familiarized with the different styles of Khmer architecture and sculpture, but we both noticed significant differences between what we saw in  Laos and Cambodia (such as a focus on a mythical animal called the naga and a stronger Buddhist influence).

The temples were located on an imposing hill looking out over the Laos lowlands and the might Mekong River. It was stiff climbing upward as we ascended tier after tier (I believe there were nine such tiers in total). As always, our hard work was rewarded as the views were amazing and the preservation work ensured that some phenomenal carvings remained intact.

By the time we arrived back out our guest house for the night we were both utterly exhausted. We ate a quick dinner and drank a couple bottles of Beer Laos before calling it a night. Looking back, I don't know how we managed to do it, but only two days ago we were leaving Siem Reap to begin this crazy adventure.

August 25, 2007

Prasat Preah Viheat (CAMBODIA)

Atop Prasat Preah Vihear and Dirt-Biking to Thailand

Any hope we had of sleeping in this morning was dashed by an overly rambunctious rooster. Separated by only a mosquito net and see-through wooden paneling, the persistent cock-a-doodle-doos reminded me of what Joe Pesci endured in the movie My Cousin Vinny. Only when it happens to you it is far less funny.

Also, the water bucket shower didn't feel any better this morning than it did last night, but we were grateful to find hot coffee for breakfast. Even though the sugar jar was crawling with ants, Jo wasn't deterred from shoveling a copious amount into her coffee - sugar, not ants, that is. Well, probably a few ants as well now that I think about it.

After breakfast we had to sort our transport away from Prasat Preah Vihear and cross the border into Thailand. This was a tricky issue as no transport heads in the necessary direction, and the roads were equally as uncompromising as yesterday. We ended up negotiating with the Khmer man who brought us up the mountain, Jai, as he and a friend (the local police officer) agreed to drive us on the back of their motorbikes. The $20/person charge was more than we wanted to pay, but we didn't have any choice and so we agreed to leave at around noon.

In the mean time, we worked our way back up the temples for more exploring. I have not mentioned this yet, but this part of Cambodia is the most heavily land-mined area in the world. There is literally no margin for error here and we were repeatedly warned - by signs and by thoughtful locals - not to leave the trodden path for any reason. While looking out for landmines makes it hard to be at ease, we both found ourselves lost in the graveyard of stones as we explored the neglected temples. Once more we had the entire complex to ourselves as hardly anyone makes it out this far, and any who do come from the Thailand side.

Speaking of the Thailand, Prasat Preah Vihear is located on disputed territory that is claimed by both Cambodia and Thailand. While the Cambodians have traditionally maintained the upper-hand in controlling the area, there is obvious animosity between the two sides. Historically, Cambodians feel that both the Vietnamese and Thais have encroached on their lands and are always trying to take them over. The reason I mention all this is because we passed a sign that read "I have pride to be born as Khmer", there are large guns pointing at Thailand (left-over from God knows when), and several times we were asked "Cambodia or Thailand?" - to which our answer was always "CAMBODIA!"

We were fortunate in that the weather was fine today and the views from the mountaintop were amazing. The pictures shown to the left and right sums up how rewarding the views were. Jo was relaxed looking off into the distance while I couldn't resist throwing my legs over the side for one of those childish "look at what I did" photos.

We climbed back the mountain and gathered our belongings in time to hop on the back of the motorbikes for the westerly ride across Cambodia. I had forgotten just how treacherous the mountain part of the journey was, and I was hanging on for dear life as Jai held the brakes the whole way down. Jai easily weighs over 300lbs so I was really struggling to wrap my arms around him. Fortunately, he speaks great English and most of the ride he was telling me jokes (most are too crude to repeat).

There wasn't much drama for the first couple of hours, but as we were passing some particularly tricky muddy areas the excitement grew. Jo had just finished clearing a rough spot and I gave a holler as she was sprayed with mud. Then, as she turned around to flick me the bird I felt Jai give a tremble and our motorbike wavered. He told me to jump off, which I instinctively did anyway.

The second I took my weight off the motorbike Jai lost his balance and all 300+lbs of him toppled into a puddle of muddy water. I could barely control my laughter as I pulled the motorbike off him and helped him find his lost sandal in the muck - which basically entailed him digging around with one foot in the mud. Fortunately, Jai had an easy-going personality and he was laughing just as hard as I was about the whole thing. From there on out, Jo and I both got off the motorbikes every time we passed a trouble spot. In retrospect, I don't think it mattered much whether we fell in because we were already caked in dirt from the roads and the dust of the motorbikes.

At one point we stopped at a small watering hole (I don't know what else I could call it) so Jai could properly clean himself. There was a group of five girls swimming in the water, and Jai assured me this was the closest they had ever come to a white foreigner. They were giggling uncontrollably, so I began blowing kisses to them and smiling. This only made them laugh harder, and it lightened the mood with Jai.

As the afternoon wore on and we approached our fourth consecutive hour on the motorbikes Jo and I began tiring of the journey. This was really rough going with the sun beating down on us, the dust always in our faces, and the constant bouncing of the motorbikes on roads destroyed by the rainy season. Despite all this, the thing I remember most is how Jo never complained and simply kept on going. I have known she was special for quite some time now, but it was at times like these - when both of us should be at our worst - that she really made me appreciate how luck I was.

We reached the Thai border at 5:15pm and both of us were covered in dirt and dead tired after the hellish journeys we endured over the past two days. As we posed for a group picture, Jai told us no other foreigner has attempted this route in the past month and a half (which dates back to before the monsoon rains started). We were too tired to pride ourselves on such things as our day was still far from over - we still had to cross the border into Thailand and find a place (and a city) to sleep for the night.

The border crossing was entirely desolate, and we were extremely lucky we didn't get stranded for the night. A friendly Thai woman approached us (she was there helping her husband renew a visa) and offered to give us a lift to the nearest Thai city, Ubon Ratchathani, which was still two hours away.

En route, we stopped at a small cafe on the side of the road for a Thai dinner. Both Jo and I were too tired to think as we wandered like zombies to a table beside a beautiful lake. The Thai woman did all the ordering and allowed us to join her family for dinner. We did our best to eat the first real meal of the day, but both of us felt bad we weren't in better spirits so we could enjoy the great Thai food. While we ate, we watched an odd display of water sports on the lake. The woman's two boys swam out to box each other on the lake while three different fan-gliders buzzed about. It was really a surreal way to end the day, especially considering we started atop a mountain in Cambodia.

Jo and I ended up getting dropped off on the side of the road where the woman assured us we could catch a 9pm bus to Ubon Ratchathani. She refused to take any money from us and we were only able to pay the driver for the ride. After all we had been through this was the sort of kind act that will bring anyone's spirits up, and it certainly did so for us. When the local Thai bus picked us up we threw our bags in storage and spent two hours sitting in the aisle. When we finally reached the bus stop in Ubon Ratchathani it was raining and pitch dark. We taxied to the nearest hotel, and when we were taken to an ultra posh place we had to walk another block to find a cheapie to crash in for the night.

Finally, at nearly midnight, we had a place to shower, lie down, and most importantly sleep.

August 24, 2007

Prasat Preah Vihear (CAMBODIA)

A Pilgrimage North through the Jungles of Cambodia

I rose at 5:30 this morning and after quickly tossing the last of my stuff in my sack I clenched my teeth while I endured yet another frigid shower. I have the horrible habit of never using towels when I travel (preferring to air dry), but this morning I had no choice but to hop back in bed and roll around so I could dry off and get warm.

Fortunately, the breakfast was hot and both Jo and I did our best to fill ourselves for the long day ahead of us. Although we still weren't quite clear how we were going to do it, we intended to reach the temple complex of Prasat Preah Vihear, which straddles the Cambodian-Thailand border. The first step in this modern-day pilgrimage - Lonely Planet described the ordeal as being "almost the equal [pilgrimage] of any undertaken at the height of the Angkorian Empire" - was hopping in a small tri-shaw (motorcycle with a small carriage attached to the rear) at 7am for the 20 minute ride to the bus station. The second we arrived we handed our bags over to the bus driver and were ushered aboard as the bus pulled out from the station. Although I was unsure of what lay ahead, I couldn't help feeling excited at the audacity of what were attempting. Somewhat more realistic was Jo, who was clearly tentative about what she was getting herself into. Nevertheless, she rewarded me with a smile as we left the city of Siem Reap behind.

Our second form of transport for the day - an archaic bus jammed with local Khmers - had drama of its own as I struggled to explain to the driver we wanted to be dropped off in a small town called Dam Dek. The town is hardly a blip on even detailed maps, so neither the driver nor the bus full of locals could understand why on earth we wanted to be dropped off here. I did my best to explain we were heading to Prasat Preah Vihear, but either the implausibility of such an undertaking or the language barrier got in the way of a proper understanding.

It was when I sat back down next to Jo and went back over what were attempting that I realized how unorthodox our plan was. I suppose it was always easier to justify it in my mind than to a perceptive mind with a large stake in the matter at hand. Either way, we were not long from being reminded once more the massive rewards that go hand-in-hand with the massive risks we were taking.

After an hour on the bus we were dropped off at the main intersection of Dam Dek. I looked around hoping there was some kind of mistake, but there was no question that the town only extended 50m in any direction. I did my best to avoid Jo's eyes as the only life we could see was a a local petrol station (using Jack Daniels bottles, not gasoline pumps) and a small market across the street. Truth be told, things were not looking good at this point, but only the brave deserve the fair so I didn't waste any time worrying.

Instead, I immediately walked to a nearby jeep where a young monk was sitting in the front seat (monks are always given priority in Southeast Asia). The monk spoke enough English for me to explain we were headed North toward Prasat Preah Vihear and were in need of a lift. By the time I explained all this there were a dozen locals gathered around trying to figure out what on earth two young westerners were doing in a place like Dam Dek. I can only imagine how otherworldly the two of us must have looked with our massive backpacks and western clothes.

Fortunately, the locals began talking amongst each other, and because they apparently took on the responsibility of our well-being, word of what we wanted quickly spread. Thus, it wasn't long before we were led to a small scattering of plastic chairs on the side of the road. The chairs obviously belonged to the welcoming Khmer man was sitting behind a small collection of wooden crates that served as his make-shift desk. We waited contentedly while he rang a variety of people on his mobile phone, and 15 minutes later he gave us a smile. It was slowly translated to us that in another hour or so a local truck would come by and we were free to hop on for only a few dollars. Other than a finger vaguely pointing in a Northerly direction, it was not clear where exactly this truck was headed, but there weren't any other options so we happily agreed. In the mean time, I accepted an invitation to lay out on an old US Army hammock while Jo sat down to read a book. I was afraid to imagine what might have been going through her mind at the time, but I have a feeling I was precariously close to being on her bad side.

As promised, the truck arrived just after 9am and we were ushered aboard while the locals graciously ignored our protests and carried our belongings. The bags were hoisted atop the pile of goods already overflowing from the bed of the truck and everything was tied down. Now it was our turn to grab a spot, but a quick look into the cab made it all-too-clear we were to join our gear on the back. We shimmied up the side with surprising ease and made ourselves comfortable atop bags of God-knows-what. I doubt either of us will ever forget what it was like as we sped off down the dirt road riding 10 feet in the air. Both our knuckles were white as we held on for our lives, but we soon settled in and let the wind whip across our faces while the sun brought smiles to our faces.

For the first hour we passed huts, locals bicycling, the odd motorbike, and for each person we passed there was a lightning quick jerk of the head at the sight of us. I don't know who was enjoying our presence more, us or the locals. Either way, to everyone involved this was entirely out of the norm, and for both Jo and I this was the way traveling was meant to be done.

We stopped for lunch just before noon at the kind of small town that is oozing charm because of its secluded nature. We took a quick look at the dishes on offer - simply a matter of pointing to the pot or plate of food you wanted - and decided it wisest to stick with vegetables. I was once more impressed that Jo was willing to eat the food as most girls I know (and guys) would surely squirm away from taking the risk of eating the food. Despite the lack of sanitary precautions (flies were everywhere) the food was surprisingly good and far different from the tourist-directed Khmer food we have seen at restaurants.

After we finished eating we said goodbye to the last remnants of civilization and began the journey through unadulterated jungle. Now is a good time to point out that Lonely Planet describes the route to the mountain as being "a unique and challenging experience, an adventure that will make an explorer of any of us." True to their word, the dirt road went from being horrendous to being, well, even more horrendous. We maxed out at 15kmh as the driver did his best to cushion the blow as we bounced from crater to crater. We are in the heart of monsoon season and the rains leave massive holes in the road that are only exacerbated when cars like ours drive through the mush. Making matters worse, we were riding so high on the truck that the moment created was sufficient to send us flying at the slightest jarring. It was like trying to sit atop an out of control drying machine for hours on end.

Things got significantly worse when the rain started. At first, I thought it would just be a matter of getting wet, but the torrential sheets prompted the Khmer man riding atop with us to pull out a tarp as a shield. There was no way to hook the tarp down so we all did our best to hold it down while the wind ripped at it like a sail. Despite such trying times, the worst was still to come as the tarp was covered in small red ants, and after a few minutes I felt the first of the bites. There was very little I could do to prevent the ants from biting me because we could barely hold the tarp down against the onslaught of rain, and the bouncing of the truck was even more severe now that the visibility was limited. This was easily the low-point of the day, and when the rain finally subsided I counted 14 bites on my right arm alone.

As Jo would later point out, the adventure was more than worthwhile, but there was no denying it lasted an hour longer than our limits could tolerate.

Shortly after four in the afternoon we reached a town called Sa Em. Although the town only consisted of nine wooden buildings, we viewed it as our savior because it was the outpost at which mankind was struggling to overcome the hell through which we just ventured. I felt like we had successfully crossed the Cambodian jungle's equivalent of the Arabian Desert: instead of the tiring sway of a camel's hump we had the jarring bouncing of a truck, instead of the incessant flies on camels we had the tiny pincers of red ants, and instead of arid heat we had the monsoon rains.

But we weren't done yet. From Sa Em it was another 50km to Prasat Preah Vihear, and the driver wanted us to get off here. I felt a prickly heat creep down my back as I struggled to figure out what to do next, but we lucked out when the driver agreed to take us to the base of the mountain. We still weren't out of the woods as my travel guide described the route we were about to take as being "seriously difficult and [the route] shouldn't be attempted by anyone who isn't willing to put up with misery along the way." I tried to hide this passage from Jo because I was feeling awful about everything I put her through today, but she saw it and was hardly perturbed. We had endured so much that very little could scare us off at this point.

As we approached the stretch of mountains that separate Thailand from Cambodia we were overcome with awe at the beauty of what we were approaching. After seven consecutive hours of jungle misery and a solitary dirt road for comfort the mountain range was a much needed change of scenery. Further, the "seriously difficult" dirt road we took for this leg of the journey was a cake-walk compared to what we endured earlier in the day - a testament to just how bad things were.

By the time we reached the base of the mountain it was well past 5pm and we were confronted with a new worry: where to sleep for the night. The nearest town offering accommodation was Choam Ksant, which was 75km away and it might as well have been 5000km because we had no way of getting there. Fortunately, things tend to work out when you give them a go and then refuse to give in when difficulties arise - and today was no different.

We were approached by a Khmer man who offered to drive us up the mountain on his huge dirt motorbike for $5USD/person. I remember thinking the price was a small fortune in a place like Cambodia (especially considering it was only a 800m climb), but after he mentioned that his sister owned the only accommodation on the mountain and could give us a cheap room we happily agreed to use his services. It turned out that the $5USD ride was one of the best bargains thus far. There was a gradient of 40% the entire way up the mountain, and the 30 minute ride was devoid of any kind of paved roads. Instead, we traversed loose gravel, running streams, boulders, and yet-to-be-cleareded mud slides. It was the most terrifying experience of the day as we were literally hanging on for dear life on a variety of narrow paths barely suited for fully-outfitted hikers. At one point we cut off the "main" route and ventured off through undergrowth, braking the entire time as the motorbike descended down a 50 degree incline. I was instructed to hop off the moving motorbike as we neared the bottom and a muddy mess forced both Jo and I to walk the remainder of the way.

When we finally reached base camp for the mountain Jo and I breathed a mutual sigh of relief, but both of us were too exhausted to begin reflecting on the endeavor we just endured. We checked into a room for the night, and although the room was hardly large enough for the bed and mosquito net engulfing it, we were happy to have a place to lie down. However, even rest was put on hold as we decided to finish what we started and climb the remainder of the mountain. So, exhausted as we were, we set off in the setting sun for our final adventure of the day: climbing the mountain temple of Prasat Preah Vihear.

Built during the the 9th Century and culminating in the 12th Century, Prasat Preah Vihear is a multi-leveled set of temples that boasts the most dramatic location for all Angkorian temples. From the mountain's peak we could look out on the Cambodian low-land jungle that we spent all day crossing, and indeed there was nothing to be seen except dark green jungle stretching to the horizon. We were able to see part of the road from Sa Em, but beyond that the jungle swallowed any hope of following the path we took.

For every bump we hit along the way and for every misery we endured - and God knows there were quite a few - the temples on the mountain and the sense of look at what we have accomplished made everything worthwhile. Other than small groups of local children and vendors lounging around, we were the only ones exploring the ruins and enjoying the evening views. Most people who visit the sight come as day-trippers from Thailand as there is actually a paved road leading here from the Thailand side. Even so, I would not want to venture here in such a way because it takes away from the sense of otherworldliness we were experiencing.

Before we began climbing I picked up four cans of Angkor beer and a canister of sour cream and onion Pringles so Jo and I could have a relaxing treat at the top of the mountain. We found a nice place to sit amongst the ruins and looked out over the expanse of green carpet hundreds of meters below us. There was no better way to end the day, and if this is a sign of things to come while Jo and I travel together then I am surely the luckiest guy on earth.

Just so people don't think life was grand after climbing back down the mountain, I want to include that Jo and I had to wait for the generator to churn to life before we could use any lighting (which only lasted for one hour), but the best part was the shower: there were two barrels full of freezing water with a bucket in each so we could shower.

August 23, 2007

Siem Reap (CAMBODIA)

Arranging Transport to Cambodia's Northern Frontier

At 9am this morning a decision was made that would come to change the course of my life forever. I have been agonizing over how long to stay in Siem Reap because I do not want to part ways with Jo, but I have never been one to let emotions get in the way of the job at hand (I intend to complete the overland journey from Beijing to Singapore, after all). Fortunately, I will get the best of both worlds as Jo decided to accompany me on my travels through northern Cambodia and southern Laos. Her friends were gracious enough to let us go off together, and we agreed to meet up later in the summer in Thailand.

All this left me with the serious problem of coordinating how exactly I to go about this journey as the entire point is to get off the beaten path. So, with my pass to Angkor Wat already exhausted, I spent the better part of the day searching Siem Reap for a way to reach the Cambodian frontier to the north. I started with the tour agencies as they are always the easiest, but they said what I was attempting was impossible unless we chartered a private car for one week. Apparently, the frontier to the North is in worse condition than what existed during the guerilla warfare days when Pol Pot and the remaining Khmer Rouge were fighting the Cambodian government. I next moved on to the various bus companies around town, but all insisted that there were no roads going North, and thus no way for me to travel. I found this to be absurd as surely someone goes North, but it wasn't until late in the afternoon when I was introduced to a "connections" man who made a few calls on my behalf. I waited patiently while the Khmer man wrote down new numbers to call, and eventually he informed me that there existed a small village through which a northerly truck runs. Supposedly, we could get dropped off in the village and then ask around to catch a ride. While none of this sounded all that convincing, I booked Jo and I a ticket to the small town for early the next morning.

I met up with Jo before dinner and brought her up to speed on what happened (making our plans sound far more convincing than they actually were). Afterward, we went on another walk through town - stopping so she could have passport photos taken - and ended up at the local market for some last minute necessities. Although we were tempted by the tasty meats for sale (see photo to the right), we stuck to the simple necessities like toothbrushes and shampoo for our journey. Ashamedly, I have never been a big fan of chicken guts.

We ate a final farewell dinner downtown, and then made it an early night as we were setting off early the following morning. Below is a map outlining where all these places are in Cambodia. Now, let the journey begin!

August 22, 2007

Siem Reap (CAMBODIA)

Walking Tour of Siem Reap: Miniature Angkor Wat and Finding the Khmer Pulse

Despite the late night partying downtown, I was up fairly early this morning and shared breakfast with Jo. All of her friends were still sleeping, so we had plenty of time to chat before heading off on a walking tour of Siem Reap. This is hardly the kind of activity most people do here because Angkor Wat is primarily a stop-over on the Southeast Asian backpacker's route from Saigon (Vietnam) to Bangkok (Thailand). Nevertheless, we were both up for a little variety and a break from the norm. The first place on our agenda was a scaled down version of Angkor Wat built by a local artisan in town. We weren't really sure what to expect, but the walk took us well away from the touristy section of town and into what can only be described as the residential district. We were half hoping the miniature version of the temples would look authentic so we could tell people we rode a hot air balloon, but as the pictures show such hopes were impossible - the leaves, grass, and small plants made it obvious that the temples are fake.

After we exhausted ourselves with laughter at the absurdity of what we were looking at (we actually had to pay $1 to get in) we continued our walking tour down the quiet lanes of Siem Reap. It wasn't long before the small roads gave way to small paths, and when we finally hit a dead end we began wondering what on earth we were doing out this far. Our fortune improved shortly thereafter when we exchanged smiles with a family eating lunch together., and we were subsequently invited to join them for their afternoon meal. The family consisted of six people, and they were eating dried fish, white rice, mixed vegetables, several steamy soups, fried bananas and ice cold tea to stay cool. They offered us everything that was laid out on the small hut that served as the dining area, and despite our shy smiles they insisted we eat. The run away favorite dish was bowl of fried bananas, and they were far more filling than one might imagine. I was particularly impressed when Jo didn't shy away from drinking the tea offered to us as it would have been impolite to refuse and yet we weren't sure about the quality of the water. Most girls I know (and guys, for that matter) always refuse to drink the same things as the locals. The tea was perfectly refreshing and the best way to cool off in the afternoon heat of Siem Reap.

We eventually said goodbye to the family and took several pictures together before heading off toward town. We were in high spirits after the kind of experience that no tour book or travel agency can arrange. Our floating spirits must have been contagious because we exchanged smiles with everyone we passed on the way back into town.

As we neared the center of town we came across a small waterway and decided to go down for a closer look. There were a group of shanty buildings lining the water, and a local Khmer man was wading into the water to go fishing midstream. I climbed atop a small tunnel spewing sewage for a few shots while Jo covered her face in apparent disgust at the fetid water. I have a sneaky suspicion that if I had fallen into the water our friendship would have been over right then and there, but my legs did not betray me.

As we continued on we were both somewhat weary of where we stepped as earlier in the morning a snake slithered by the two of us as we relaxed reading in hammocks. We were having a great day though and we saw hardly any tourists (other than the few who rode past on their way to the temples) and most of the locals we passed looked at us with the same curious look we gave them.

The last bits of excitement for the afternoon came when we stopped by a small Buddhist shrine where we took off our shoes and quietly observed the locals bending over in obeisance. As we quietly observed the Buddhist rituals a local man took a liking to us and led us around to the golden Buddha dominating the room. He instructed us to touch the foot of the Buddha, then our head, before finally resting our hand in the Buddha's for good fortune. We donated several thousand riel to the temple and continued ambling along the peaceful sidewalks.

We next came across a group of local vendors selling flowers and fruits, and also a woman with caged pigeons and a collection of turtles in a red plastic bucket. Neither Jo nor I are new to Asia and we both knew better than to pay for the release of a pigeon (supposedly a harbinger of good luck) as they are all homing pigeons that return upon release. As for the turtles, well, common sense says they will not be able to get very far to begin with...

What we did get suckered into was a palm reading. I offered my hand to the Khmer man who grasped it with a benign smile and began making a series of calculations on a tiny pad. He was chatting away in the Khmer language - apparently oblivious to the fact we did not understand a word he was saying. The only thing I got out of the palm reading was a stream of amused smiles from passerby's and and a look of approval from the palm-reader himself. Once more, I parted with a thousand more riel, but it was all in good fun; I already know my future holds nothing but the best of fortune.

Jo and I finally arrived back at the hostel in the late afternoon, and we settled back in the hammocks while drinking draught Angkor beer and reading our books. When Jo's friends returned from their day of touring the temples (my pass had already expired) we sat together sharing stories before heading down to Bar Street for dinner. Jo and I continued our habit of walking everywhere, and en route we sampled a tasty local dish served from a cheap stall on the side of the road. It was a 10inch roll stuffed with a cucumber-like concoction of mixed vegetables, a smothered meat that resembled spam, and enough Italian dressing to scare away the swarming flies.

After eating dinner with Jenny, Jemma, and Mark, Jo and I walked to a local market where we got lost in a maze of stalls. It is strange that the market was only several blocks from Bar Street - the foreigner night spot - and yet most people never made it out this far. Although we were not looking to buy anything, we also came across a terrific art gallery tucked away on a small side street. We spent a long time browsing through a variety of photos of Angkor Wat, Buddhist monks, the Cambodian landscape, and local Khmer people captured in charming ways.

Although this wasn't a day I had planned for (my schedule called for me to leave Siem Reap this morning) I had a great time doing very little. I have more than a sneaky suspicion it had to do with the company I was in for the day.

August 21, 2007

Siem Reap (CAMBODIA)

Jungle Temple of Beng Melea

I rose with the sun this morning having had a full night's sleep (always a bonus). Over breakfast I decided to visit Beng Melea temple, which is three hours outside Siem Reap by motorbike. Beng Melea promised to be "the ultimate Indiana Jones experience" (Lonely Planet), and since I did not want to miss out on all the great photos the temple offered I decided to bite the bullet and buy a new digital camera.

I shopped around a few camera shops scattered throughout Siem Reap (most were no more than photo printing shops that also had a few cameras for sale), and in the end I opted for the same model Nikon as my broken S6. This allowed me to use the same battery (as it was fully charged) and I already knew all the features on the camera. It was not an ideal fix as I hate wasting the money, but there is little point in saving the money and missing out on all the great photos.

So, with a new camera I set off on the back of a motorbike for a day of hard riding. Before I got too far outside the city limits (which basically translates to five minutes of riding) we stopped for petrol at one of the many upscale gas stations. Little do most people realize Cambodia is light years ahead of the world in gas distribution techniques. How so, you might wonder? The answer is remarkably simple: re-cycled Jack Daniels bottles (or plastic one-liter bottles for the stingy).

The vast majority of the ride was painfully jarring as the only paved roads in the country run from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap and on to Thailand. Making matters worse, it is currently the height of rainy season in Cambodia and this destroys the dirt roads - it looked like B-52 bombers ran bombing raids everywhere. Nevertheless, it was bright and sunny out and the wind was tearing by me as I kept one arm wrapped around my driver and used the other to waive at every smiling local we passed.

We reached Beng Melea just before noon, and the first thing I came across was a sign warning not to veer off the beaten path because of land mines. This wasn't the first time I have come across such things, but this was one of many danger signs I would come across during the day. I was warned heavily in advance of the dangers associated with this more remote region of Cambodia.

I passed the outer wall of the complex after a short walk from the road, but it was another ten minutes before the ruins of the temple showed through the dense jungle. Everything was crumbling as I approached, and I felt a growing sense of excitement at what was hidden inside.

There was a French movie that was shot here several years ago, and the film crew left a wooden walkway weaving its way through parts of the compound. I followed this to the back of the complex to get a feel for the layout, and after a short chat with a group of Chinese tourists (all Shanghai business men who were on an "adventure vacation") I began working my way back through the complex. I quickly veered away from the plank as even the 10 or so tourists on site were too many in my mind.

Veering off the "beaten path" was far easier than I anticipated, and before I knew it I was lost in the temple with very little idea of where I was going. It was impossible to see far in any direction because of the dense jungle growth, and the temples have been around so long they now blend in with the surroundings. I was scared witless at one point when a group of Cambodian boys popped out of nowhere and started staring at me. From the look on their faces they were as surprised by my presence as I was by theirs. I tossed them each a few Mentos fruit candy as we sat down and smiled at each other. Soon, one of the boys began scurrying up a tree in a funny attempt to impress me. I don't know how he was so nimble, but he was like a cat climbing a barren tree 15ft high and hanging on from the top.

The next three hours were spent climbing through every corridor and library in the complex. I didn't see a single other person the entire time. I could not believe the wonders hidden under the jungle canopy and beyond the rubble of fallen temples. It was definitely the epitomizing Indiana Jones experience as I ducked under archways and scaled walls to reach section after section of forsaken wonders. The pictures below should give an idea of what it was like crawling through this jungle paradise. For anyone who knows me, I am terrified of snakes so it was slow going the entire time and I was really overcoming a lot of life-long fears.

And here are a few more photos to further show what it was like inside these dark and mysterious corridors. Now imagine being alone in such places with no flashlight and no one around to call for help...

For all the other pictures I suggest checking out the photo gallery as there were some truly remarkable things to be seen. As ever, most of the thrill comes from discovering everything on your own with no one around to direct you or assure it is safe. Most of the time I was walking on rocks that wobbled and with most of them weighing several hundred pounds it was a lot more serious than one might imagine. The video below might give an idea of what the temple was like exploring:

As I was leaving the complex I sat down with a Khmer man and began chatting. He was twisting some kind of a root in his hand, and when I asked him what it was he struggled to explain that it was used for bites. Upon further questioning - and much gesturing on both our parts - he explained the root can be boiled in water and then drank to help fight malaria. I have heard of this root before, but I never imagined I would actually come across it. It is good to know such things exist out here because Cambodia is notorious for malaria and I have not had any vaccinations.

I met back up with my motorbike driver and we set off on a different return route to Angkor Wat. We were hoping to fit a couple more temples in for the day, but this meant we had to take back roads that were even worse than what we were on before. We traveled at roughly 10-15mph the entire way, and we bounced from divot to divot for two hours. Fortunately, the weather was still great (the monsoon rains usually hold off until the afternoon), but I nearly fell of the bike at one point when I dozed off. The driver gave me a serious look that seemed to say that was damn close and for the rest of the way I made sure not to do something so foolish again.

The next temple complex had some of the best carvings I have seen thus far, and all the limestone was brilliantly preserved. Below are some of the images adorning the walls of this century old complex. I feel bad because pictures cannot do justice to the intricacies involved, but I hope they do give some kind of an idea - especially considering they were carved in the 11th Century.

I stopped at one final temple for the day as I was utterly exhausted from all the climbing, exploring, and motorbike riding. I am too tired to write about more temples so the pictures below will have to be enough.

The day was still far from over as my new Nikon camera was malfunctioning and I went back for a refund. I did not get hassled too much as the faulty lens cover was not my fault, and I got all my money back on the purchase. I took this as a sign and I went around town searching out the cheapest camera on the market. I ended up with an old-school Samsung camera that was only one hundred bucks. It is a welcome relief to have this issue sorted out, and I have been kicking myself for being so negligent in breaking the first one.

When I arrived back at the hostel for the evening I had a local Khmer dish waiting for me. I had asked Eric yesterday to find all the ingredients necessary to eat real Khmer food, and despite his words of caution of the bad smells I was game for whatever came my way. Fortunately, the food was far better than it smelled (which was terrifyingly rancid), and the dish consisted of fish mashed in a dark brown sauce, a variety of diced vegetables and chilies (primarily cucumber), and all this was eaten with white rice. While I was eating I began chatting with a group of four English people sitting at the table adjacent to me , and one of the girls quickly caught my eye. As the group of four were preparing to head off to Bar Street to meet friends for dinner, I arranged to meet them later in the evening.

So, when I finished eating and took a shower (it had been a long, hard day) I caught a motorbike down to party central and met up with them. They were eating at one of the more posh restaurants in town - something I never do - so I stuck to beer and chatting. I was moderately disappointed that the girl I found so attractive, Jo (short for Joanna), was at the other end of the table, but things got better when we all headed out for drinks afterward.

We spent most of the night and early morning at Angkor Bar, which is one of the more famous bars on the strip as it offers everything from lady-boys to pool to loud music to cheap drinks. It was a fun night made even better by our group of eight people and the great time I had talking with Jo. Needless to say, we hit it right off and arranged to meet again early the next day.

August 20, 2007

Siem Reap (CAMBODIA)

A Slow Day Highlighted by Angkor Wat

After a late night partying, I slept in this morning. I hope I don't get addicted to this kind of thing because it felt great to be worry-free. This is  the first time I have felt like my batteries are fully re-charged in a long time - I am talking months - so I was not disappointed about only focusing on Angkor Wat for the day.

I caught a moto to the temple complex at 3pm, and even after an hour of walking I still hadn't made it to the main temples in the Angkor Wat compound. I don't think pictures do justice to how massive everything is out here, but when you are on foot and enduring the mid-afternoon heat such things become readily apparent.

Besides the normal routine of walking around admiring the carvings and architecture, I had a small bit of cultural interchange at a shrine I came across in a tucked away corridor. Only a few Buddhist pilgrims were out this far, and each were prostrating themselves in front of a magnificent statue of Shiva. One of the Buddhists spoke good English, and he explained the reasoning behind the various offerings being made. He went on to point out that the statue of Shiva had four arms on each side and each wielded a weapon for protection or the administration of justice. Although I have never been a very religious person, I am always taken aback by the devotion and benevolence of Asian religions.

The following story is embarrassing to tell and it nearly wrecked my week... In Cambodia, it rains nearly every afternoon at around 4pm, and today was no different. I was fortunate to find shelter in a well-preserved library where I sat on a ledge and admired the temples through mists of rain. Unfortunately, those mists of rain soon became torrents of rain, and I was forced from my small hideaway. As I got up to move I forgot my camera was on my lap, and it wasn't until I heard the smack of the camera on the stone floor that I realized my mistake. Although the camera looked like nothing was wrong with it, the shutter is now broken and it is useless until I get this fixed. No matter how trivial the problem may be, such a repair is not likely to happen in a place like Cambodia. I am now confronted with the dilemma of figuring out how I am going to capture everything I see for the rest of this trip.

With my broken camera tucked away in my backpack, I finished touring Angkor Wat. Obviously, my mind was elsewhere as losing my camera was a serious blow. It was somewhat of a shame because I did not get to enjoy Angkor Wat as much as I would have liked, but all the other tourists would have made life difficult no matter what.

I spent the evening along the East side of the moat watching the sun fade away. There were 20 or so monkeys near to where I was sitting so I spent half an hour observing the small animals looking after their young and approaching the tourists who stopped by to feed them. It was amusing to note how the locals were so at ease with the monkeys while all the westerners approached tentatively and then jumped in front when the monkeys went after the offerings of food.

The rest of the night was spent figuring out how to sort out the camera situation, but I decided I would sleep on the issue before making up my mind. There really wasn't much else I could do about it at the time.

August 19, 2007

Siem Reap (CAMBODIA)

Touring the Temples Around Angkor Wat

Today was intended to be a long day of bicycling around the temples (all are several kilometers apart), and when I rose at 4am the morning was still more early than bright. I have never been a big fan of breakfast - coffee and a piece of slightly burnt toast usually do the trick - but today I made sure to eat my fill so I would not tire. Besides, breakfast was free.

By 4:30am I began cycling from the guesthouse to Angkor Wat in hope of catching the sort of miraculous sunrise that can be seen on postcards and posters sold across Cambodia. I was tentative to share such a magical moment with throngs of tourists who were being shepherded to and from their hotels in private buses, so I hung around the moat of Angkor Wat as the sun brought the world to life.

Although the view was impressive, it was nothing extraordinary. I was hardly bothered - I have had my fair share of seeing the sun break the gentle harmony of the horizon yesterday night. Nevertheless, there was a highway of tourists crossing the moat to take their photos from inside the compound, so I imagine the view from there might have been more rewarding.

It was interesting to watch how before the sun came up the stream of people pushed their way across the bridge and before the sunrise was even over the same swarm of people came rushing back out and climbed aboard the waiting vehicles. The ratio of people who stayed behind must have been 1 out of every 100. Granted, it wasn't yet 6am, but it was still strange to see so many people climbing inside air-con buses and I felt an even stronger desire to stay away from the hordes for the rest of the day.

Following Eric's advice (my hostel owner), I set off on a path that would take me by some of the key sights at the best times of the day. My goal was to see as much as possible today so the next two days would be easy and I could revisit the places I particularly liked. One of the most important aspects of this plan was that I was saving Angkor Wat for the very end. It was a save the best for last kind of strategy.

The first temple on the agenda, Phnom Bakheng, was built atop a hill that actually gave a better vantage of the skyline than along the moat of Angkor Wat. There were several men who offered to take me up the hill riding on the back of an elephant, but I felt bad for the elephants for having to endure the steep incline. Besides, I am not that lazy that I cannot walk on my own.

There were several interesting sights around the temple which I have shown below. I will not bore you with details on the carvings or the style of temple because if you truly find it interesting I think it best you see them for yourself. You will be amazed.