Hello everyone. I am having a wonderful time here in Siem Reap. I visited the temples at Ankor this week. Went for the three day pass. The evening before my first day I went out to Ankor to get my glimpse of the site at sunset. It took my breath away. As I may have mentioned I have my own transportation via 100cc motorbike that I rode up from Phnom Pehn. This means I don't have dependence on hired rides around town and out to sites of interest. I can come and go at my leisure. So the evening before my ticket went into effect I went for a ride around Ankor to have a better idea of my way around. Some of the roads can be quite confusing, being there is very little signage and maps are vague. So I headed off down a road in the direction of the great Wat and stumbled upon a rather large body of water. I sensed I had reached the temple, being that I knew that entire structure was surrounded by a formidable moat. My first views of the complex happened as I approached from the east. Gazing over this long pane of reflective water there was an uninterrupted calmness save for minute disturbances by small insects that had little effect on the overall picture. The sky was bruising. The sun was as red and round as a cherry lolly. I was on the back side and shot many a picture. I made my around to the entrance side and found where the people were. Throngs of tourists were pouring out of the great complex and others were streaming toward. Sunset is a frenzied time at Ankor. The sun is setting behind you westward and is splashing its hued influence on the moat and walls of the temple. It's quite dramatic and inspiring. I was in awe for many minutes. Its a difficult place to sit solemnly in wonder as I have done at several other places along my travels; there are just too many people. But sunset at Ankor can still be a time for reflection. I found that the intense beauty drown out most of the clatter from the worldwide collection of tourists. I'm going back again today.
I feel I shall have a full report on Ankor here soon. In other news. Two out of the many many many rolls that I have shot during my travels have been developed and I have them now for you to view. Both rolls were color slide film, developed into prints. Autumn then put them into my Flickr account for me. They are purposefully intense in colour: Do not adjust your computer screens. The link to the photos is Here I assure you that not every one of my rolls of film will look like these in colour. I have plenty of normal colour and black and white to develop when I got home. These were just the ones that were chosen so I could see how many shots were looking. I hope you enjoy. Thanks.
-Denny
10 March 2010
03 March 2010
Nepal Revisited: Pokhara
Four long months ago I left behind the rich culture and historical traditions of the Gangetic plane of northern India and set off for the unparalleled landscapes of Nepal's Himalayas. I was headed to the roof of the world. After having just concluded four days observing rhinos, riding elephants, and tracking tigers in the terai jungle of Royal Chitwan National Park, I boarded a bus headed for Nepal's second city, Pokhara. A 5hr winding journey brought me to a lakeside town situated only 30km from the immensity of the Annapurna massif; 34 miles of jagged peaks towering 6, 7, and 8,000 meters above the level of the sea. When visibility allows this range provides a backdrop of epic grandeur leaving one with a not so subtle reminder of one's own quaint existence. The distance between me and Mt. Everest was shrinking.
I traveled to Pokhara with an American that I had met back a few days before in Lumbini, birthplace of the Buddha. She was from Cali and had that laid back 'whateves' attitude that I, being a fellow 'westcoastie' knew all about. It was good to hear 'dude and 'awesome' again. I didn't know how long my stay in Pokhara was going to last. I only knew that November days were passing by quickly and the further into winter I reached, the colder that rarefied mountain air would become. I also knew of what tasty eye treats were waiting for me, seemingly, just a stones throw from nearly every vantage. The Annapurnas; an omnipotent phalanx of jagged splendor, standing over the entire region gloating with unreserved beauty. I knew to most folks this was their Everest. And in fact, had I seen them for myself, I probably would have been quite contained with little else thereafter. For those looking to get a closer look at the snow capped precipices, there are many world class treks in the area that lead backpack borne trekkers through the trees and over the hills for several days at a time towards each's own particular goal. A very popular route sends people on a 17 day circumambulation of the whole of the range, terminating in relative close proximity to the town. Another trek that takes about half that time leaves from Pokhara and journeys straight for the heart. In only a matter of days you find yourself within the inner sanctuary of the range and nestled within a 20,000ft cradle of rock and ice. Its a stabbing in and out route that has the added distinction of reaching ABC or Annapurna Base Camp. From this site, just as at the Everest Base Camp, professional mountaineers finalize their preparations and commence summit bids for several of the largest peaks on Earth. Nepal lays claim to nine of the world's 14 highest peaks, and this particular stretch owns the 10th highest, Annapurna I, and several other peaks of substantial importance and elevation. In all there are six peaks that rise above 23,oooft and numerous other lesser, yet similarly rewarding ascents for climbers to test their mettle. Its a mountaineering playground. The Annapurna peaks are among the world's most dangerous mountains to climb, with a fatality rate of around 40%, yet two thirds of all visitors to Nepal visit the Annapurna region to bare witness to its impressive beauty. I came to know these things prior to setting off on this adventure several months before. Long ago, though, I made the decision to save my energy and resources for the grand buffet that was the Everest trek; while in Pokhara restricting myself to the delicious appetizer nibble of meager day hikes. But I fully intended to see something while I was there, alas, weather had to play its unduly part.
I got off the bus on 10 November. It was cloudy. I remember on my last day in Chitwan a layer of clouds had rolled in and, subsequently, there was mention of rain. Unusual for the time of year, the dry season was at hand. "Damn," I thought, "I brought the clouds with me, they better disappear or I'm going to be pissed." Well, they never dispersed. My American travel buddy had ideas to go on an overnight trek to a popular high point with immaculate views but ended up scrapping the idea after a few days of cloudiness. So I was left to stare at gray skies. I knew full well that just beyond what I could see was what I wanted to see. A mandible of exposed incisors. White and sharp. Pretty maids lined all in a row. I really was hoping to lock eyes with the famous Machapuchare or also known as 'the fish tale' mountain. Its orientation within the range gives it prominence over the other more routine looking mountains, though standing at just under 7000m its considered a baby compared to its brethren. The peak itself is angular, rigid it resembles, perhaps, an inverted fish that was turned to granite. Sure, yeah, I can see it. Looks like this here . The mountain has been reserved off limits to climbing by the locals and it remains the only peak in Nepal left unconquered by man. An impenetrable sheet of gray kept this highly revered mountain from my gaze and no day hike was going to get me into range to give us a peak under. So I resigned to my bad fortune and turned my focus to soaking in the last few days of comfort and civilization that I had left. For in ten days I would be above 18,000ft and pushing my body further than I ever thought it could go.
To console myself over views unseen I occupied my time with morning croissants, tea, and the daily paper. The tea was good but not the Indian masala chai that I had come to crave. The croissants were tasty but not the chocolate filled award winner that I had found in Dharamsala, India. The news, well, I was riveted to the news. Nepal's political system is in terrible strife. Agitations led by the Maoists occur weekly. Everyday life for the Nepalese people has to come to learn to negotiate the current political climate on that given day. Some days there are road blocks; some days there strikes or 'bandhs', usually of the transportation sector. All means of transit gets shut down for an entire day when a bandh is called in order to force political action in Kathmandu. All this agitation gets set up by the Maoist organization. The Maoists are a communist political group that formed around 1994 to oppose the then current establishment, the centuries old Monarchy. Nepal was a kingdom at the time but was suffering from upheaval. The Maoist movement led a decade long "People's War" that eventually gave birth to a brand new system of democratic governorship. The popular Maoists promptly won the majority of seats in the newly formed Assembly through a democratic vote on 10 April, 2008. They lasted all of a year in power. In May of last year a coalition of all the major political parties formed and toppled the Maoists, barring them from any governmental duties. Today negotiations happen daily between the various political groups, and the Maoists, still with very large numbers in support, are on the outside looking in though are still throwing their weight around. The baby government is working on finalizing a new constitution for the country. A deadline was set long ago and has hereby lapsed several times; the latest target date was for right about now. The Maoist have influence over great numbers and when they feel there is not enough progress being made on a particular issue then a round of agitations are called and the country is effectively shut down for a given length of time. Upon reading and learning these things I became uneasy over the very real possibility of disruption of my upcoming travel. I needed to get to Kathmandu. I also had to take a flight out of the capitol out to the Everest trekking region. The possibility existed that a buy a flight and then miss it due to transportation difficulties. Or I could be grounded all together. I needed to stay on top of developments.
Also in the news was weather. Cloudy for the whole week. Rats. Then I caught an article in the international section that finally gave me insight to my cloud problem. Apparently there was a typhoon spinning and twirling its self off the west coast of India. By the time I had reached Pokhara it had already made landfall and was dumping unprecedented amounts of rain on northwest India. I had a some travel friends in Rajasthan, the desert, and they were giving me reports that rain was falling in areas that hadn't seen precipitation in ten years. Basically all of India was covered in cloud. Held in place by the northern great barrier that is the Himalayan mountain range. So all was clear to me now, even if the views weren't, and the storm was predicted to have dissipated by the end of the week. So I turned my attention to Kathmandu.
Wish I had seen this
or this
Machapuchra(fish tale) - the pointy one on the left
Then Annapurna III, IV, II from left to right.
I was staying in a guesthouse in the small collection of houses right on the lake bottom right. I climbed to this very spot on a day hike and couldn't see past the first hill.
This is Dhualagiri
Looking to the northwest from another highpoint near Pokhara. The 7th highest mountain in the world.
Cambodia today:
It's hot. Its pushing 95 Fahrenheit plus. It kinda has an Eastern Washington midsummer feel. Its only getting hotter too. April will be the hottest month before the rains come to flood the whole plain and sustain life for another year. Tomorrow I will make my first visit to Ankor Wat. I think a three day pass is all that I can afford. I have a personal motorbike so I will be able to get to the more distant temples with ease. I am also looking into my visa run which I must do on by the 18th. I might go to the northern border through Anlong Veng, Pol Pot's headquarters when in hiding after being ousted by the Vietnamese and also his cremation site. This route will get me into the mountains to the north and I might do some moto investigating around there before heading back into Siem Reap. Also, if you are still reading at this point then I will tell you that my ticket is purchased out of Asia. 19 April I fly out of Bangkok to NY. So westcoast peeps you will have to wait a bit longer after that, perhaps a week or two. Wow, what a trip. That would make it about a week over six months, hmmm. I shall reminisce later. Also, my birthday. I'm going to have my first birthday abroad, and in Cambodia no less. That's just great, another goal accomplished. Ok signing off. Bye.
Denny
I traveled to Pokhara with an American that I had met back a few days before in Lumbini, birthplace of the Buddha. She was from Cali and had that laid back 'whateves' attitude that I, being a fellow 'westcoastie' knew all about. It was good to hear 'dude and 'awesome' again. I didn't know how long my stay in Pokhara was going to last. I only knew that November days were passing by quickly and the further into winter I reached, the colder that rarefied mountain air would become. I also knew of what tasty eye treats were waiting for me, seemingly, just a stones throw from nearly every vantage. The Annapurnas; an omnipotent phalanx of jagged splendor, standing over the entire region gloating with unreserved beauty. I knew to most folks this was their Everest. And in fact, had I seen them for myself, I probably would have been quite contained with little else thereafter. For those looking to get a closer look at the snow capped precipices, there are many world class treks in the area that lead backpack borne trekkers through the trees and over the hills for several days at a time towards each's own particular goal. A very popular route sends people on a 17 day circumambulation of the whole of the range, terminating in relative close proximity to the town. Another trek that takes about half that time leaves from Pokhara and journeys straight for the heart. In only a matter of days you find yourself within the inner sanctuary of the range and nestled within a 20,000ft cradle of rock and ice. Its a stabbing in and out route that has the added distinction of reaching ABC or Annapurna Base Camp. From this site, just as at the Everest Base Camp, professional mountaineers finalize their preparations and commence summit bids for several of the largest peaks on Earth. Nepal lays claim to nine of the world's 14 highest peaks, and this particular stretch owns the 10th highest, Annapurna I, and several other peaks of substantial importance and elevation. In all there are six peaks that rise above 23,oooft and numerous other lesser, yet similarly rewarding ascents for climbers to test their mettle. Its a mountaineering playground. The Annapurna peaks are among the world's most dangerous mountains to climb, with a fatality rate of around 40%, yet two thirds of all visitors to Nepal visit the Annapurna region to bare witness to its impressive beauty. I came to know these things prior to setting off on this adventure several months before. Long ago, though, I made the decision to save my energy and resources for the grand buffet that was the Everest trek; while in Pokhara restricting myself to the delicious appetizer nibble of meager day hikes. But I fully intended to see something while I was there, alas, weather had to play its unduly part.
I got off the bus on 10 November. It was cloudy. I remember on my last day in Chitwan a layer of clouds had rolled in and, subsequently, there was mention of rain. Unusual for the time of year, the dry season was at hand. "Damn," I thought, "I brought the clouds with me, they better disappear or I'm going to be pissed." Well, they never dispersed. My American travel buddy had ideas to go on an overnight trek to a popular high point with immaculate views but ended up scrapping the idea after a few days of cloudiness. So I was left to stare at gray skies. I knew full well that just beyond what I could see was what I wanted to see. A mandible of exposed incisors. White and sharp. Pretty maids lined all in a row. I really was hoping to lock eyes with the famous Machapuchare or also known as 'the fish tale' mountain. Its orientation within the range gives it prominence over the other more routine looking mountains, though standing at just under 7000m its considered a baby compared to its brethren. The peak itself is angular, rigid it resembles, perhaps, an inverted fish that was turned to granite. Sure, yeah, I can see it. Looks like this here . The mountain has been reserved off limits to climbing by the locals and it remains the only peak in Nepal left unconquered by man. An impenetrable sheet of gray kept this highly revered mountain from my gaze and no day hike was going to get me into range to give us a peak under. So I resigned to my bad fortune and turned my focus to soaking in the last few days of comfort and civilization that I had left. For in ten days I would be above 18,000ft and pushing my body further than I ever thought it could go.
To console myself over views unseen I occupied my time with morning croissants, tea, and the daily paper. The tea was good but not the Indian masala chai that I had come to crave. The croissants were tasty but not the chocolate filled award winner that I had found in Dharamsala, India. The news, well, I was riveted to the news. Nepal's political system is in terrible strife. Agitations led by the Maoists occur weekly. Everyday life for the Nepalese people has to come to learn to negotiate the current political climate on that given day. Some days there are road blocks; some days there strikes or 'bandhs', usually of the transportation sector. All means of transit gets shut down for an entire day when a bandh is called in order to force political action in Kathmandu. All this agitation gets set up by the Maoist organization. The Maoists are a communist political group that formed around 1994 to oppose the then current establishment, the centuries old Monarchy. Nepal was a kingdom at the time but was suffering from upheaval. The Maoist movement led a decade long "People's War" that eventually gave birth to a brand new system of democratic governorship. The popular Maoists promptly won the majority of seats in the newly formed Assembly through a democratic vote on 10 April, 2008. They lasted all of a year in power. In May of last year a coalition of all the major political parties formed and toppled the Maoists, barring them from any governmental duties. Today negotiations happen daily between the various political groups, and the Maoists, still with very large numbers in support, are on the outside looking in though are still throwing their weight around. The baby government is working on finalizing a new constitution for the country. A deadline was set long ago and has hereby lapsed several times; the latest target date was for right about now. The Maoist have influence over great numbers and when they feel there is not enough progress being made on a particular issue then a round of agitations are called and the country is effectively shut down for a given length of time. Upon reading and learning these things I became uneasy over the very real possibility of disruption of my upcoming travel. I needed to get to Kathmandu. I also had to take a flight out of the capitol out to the Everest trekking region. The possibility existed that a buy a flight and then miss it due to transportation difficulties. Or I could be grounded all together. I needed to stay on top of developments.
Also in the news was weather. Cloudy for the whole week. Rats. Then I caught an article in the international section that finally gave me insight to my cloud problem. Apparently there was a typhoon spinning and twirling its self off the west coast of India. By the time I had reached Pokhara it had already made landfall and was dumping unprecedented amounts of rain on northwest India. I had a some travel friends in Rajasthan, the desert, and they were giving me reports that rain was falling in areas that hadn't seen precipitation in ten years. Basically all of India was covered in cloud. Held in place by the northern great barrier that is the Himalayan mountain range. So all was clear to me now, even if the views weren't, and the storm was predicted to have dissipated by the end of the week. So I turned my attention to Kathmandu.
Wish I had seen this
or this
Machapuchra(fish tale) - the pointy one on the left
Then Annapurna III, IV, II from left to right.
I was staying in a guesthouse in the small collection of houses right on the lake bottom right. I climbed to this very spot on a day hike and couldn't see past the first hill.
This is Dhualagiri
Looking to the northwest from another highpoint near Pokhara. The 7th highest mountain in the world.
Cambodia today:
It's hot. Its pushing 95 Fahrenheit plus. It kinda has an Eastern Washington midsummer feel. Its only getting hotter too. April will be the hottest month before the rains come to flood the whole plain and sustain life for another year. Tomorrow I will make my first visit to Ankor Wat. I think a three day pass is all that I can afford. I have a personal motorbike so I will be able to get to the more distant temples with ease. I am also looking into my visa run which I must do on by the 18th. I might go to the northern border through Anlong Veng, Pol Pot's headquarters when in hiding after being ousted by the Vietnamese and also his cremation site. This route will get me into the mountains to the north and I might do some moto investigating around there before heading back into Siem Reap. Also, if you are still reading at this point then I will tell you that my ticket is purchased out of Asia. 19 April I fly out of Bangkok to NY. So westcoast peeps you will have to wait a bit longer after that, perhaps a week or two. Wow, what a trip. That would make it about a week over six months, hmmm. I shall reminisce later. Also, my birthday. I'm going to have my first birthday abroad, and in Cambodia no less. That's just great, another goal accomplished. Ok signing off. Bye.
Denny
20 February 2010
Arrival.
Cambodia
11 days ago I boarded a narrow 12 seat wooden rail of a boat bound for the capitol of Cambodia. I, then, was in Chau Doc, Vietnam. The journey took me nine hours in total to accomplish comprising of three separate legs. The first segment, beginning at 7am, starts in one of the tiny sinuses of the delta heading toward the grand beauty herself. Mekong essentially means mother river and along that first leg I was privy to intimate evidence in rally of her life supporting ways. I was able to take in the rituals of daily delta life as the banks bustled with morning activity. The boat sputtered along at a wake less pace. Children waved, mothers washed, fathers bathed, nets were thrown, buffalo drank, fish jumped, and occasionally a larger more purposeful boat cruised by who's inhabitants seemingly made light of our curiosity. Took pictures of that too. As an added bonus, I was allowed to be an accessory to some sight seeing that a number of the other riders had to purchase in addition to their journey to Phnom Pehn. I was included on a tour of a delta fish farm and a stop at a traditional Cham village. The fish farm was set up underneath the floorboards of the houseboat of the farm's owner and the fish were held contained by nets underneath them. An owner of such an operation can make quite a profit selling his fish back at market. The other type of fish farm around are dugout pools on land that have thousands of fish and between the two, the houseboat farms incur less loss and produce healthier fish. Though, even these sustainable practices are subject to debate. After that we stopped off at one of the local Cham villages. The Cham people have been residents of the Mekong delta for hundreds of years and their empire, at its peak, included the whole of the delta south and as far north along Vietnam's coast as Da Nang. Initially Hindu, around the 16th century they converted to Islam. Today's population now exist in a squeezed region occupying southern Cambodia and Vietnam. The village was a quick stop and really simply our last opportunity to buy a scarf or sarong in Dong.
Eventually, as the red morning sun transitioned to high yellow midday heat, the small canals began to open up in anticipation of intersection with the Mekong. At around 11 I arrived at the border of Cambodia. The outpost situated on the north bank of the river. The waterway itself had opened into a massive expanse of constant flow. Innumerable tufts of green lillies floated past indicating direction. I finally had made it.
The next hour and a half of my life as spent waiting for the boat from Cambodia to arrive with its passengers heading to Vietnam. Leg two of my journey began when I boarded my second boat of the day from the border outpost. This boat was larger, with proper seating and had a deck from which I perched myself for the rest of the afternoon. The great river now made me feel quite small. I took this time to nap.
A few hours later as the sun was slipping back into its red pajamas we made landfall once more. This time to transition into a bus that would take us the final hour into the city of Phnom Pehn. I realized that the fleeting last rays of the sun were insufficient for the boat to continue down an unlit runway thus prompting the change. This was all fine by me and made for a continued interesting journey. Squeezed into a stuffy minibus and forced into conversation with a Swede drunk on ferry Angkor beer, I made my final approach. The road in was in terrible shape The dust made seeing and breathing difficult. The scenery, though, was beautiful and inspiring. Flat as a board just like they said, with palms on the far away distance dotting the horizon. After a full working day of travel, I arrived to a night fallen Phnom Pehn. My excitement spared me no moment and I just had to get out among the people. So as soon as I found a room, I was out pounding the muggy warm pavement. I didn't know where I was exactly, I only knew that I wasn't near the tourist area. I was deep in a Khmer area of town and I knew yet nothing of the language. So that first walk was simply a brain adjustment. The first dip into a new culture pool. It takes a little while to adjust to new surroundings and people. I knew the Cambodians were going to be just as different from the Vietnamese as the Laos from the Thai. Each region produces idiosyncrasies that my inquisitive mind loves to identify and observe. Its these subtle differences of human evolution that have entertained me to no end throughout this trip. I love trying to hide myself and observe daily life. It just makes me tick. So I spent a good two hours walking, not too far away from my home but far enough to feel the buzz. I concluded my evening with a well deserved pastry and strode back to the guesthouse. I was happy and I could sense that I was heading into a new adventure. The final chapter on this trip was upon.
I spent three nights at the guesthouse. I paid $6 a night. This was a good rate but I wanted/needed better. At this point in the journey the funds have gotten quite low and now every dollar must be accounted for and rationalized, pastries are reserved for special occasions. Over those few days I tried to take in as much Khmer life as I could without spending cash. I made friends with two boys back at the guesthouse. Thom, 22, recently hired making a salary of $40 a month trying to save money to continue his schooling which runs at $60 per month. He was short and I made a remark about this one day and he let me know that he could be tall like me but he couldn't afford the medicine which was $25. The other was Bpee who was 30 and an orphan. He earned the same wages and both boys lived in the guesthouse. Never once asked for charity and one night even invited me for beers. I was their guest and they were honored and insisted on paying the bill. I bought the last two rounds and we had a great time together. Thom has invited me to visit his village for New Year on the 14th, that would be nice.
In addition to living on the cheap, I was trying to contact my extended Cambodian family that lived in Phnom Pehn. First I got a hold of my dad who said his friend has a sister that lives in the capitol and I was told to call them when I got in. My father, born in Bat Dambang province, was an only child and his parents are no longer alive so I don't have any bloodline connections in Cambodia, but what I do have is the Cambodian extended family. The familial bond is strong in the culture here and you always have a cousin or nephew or uncle or aunt or sister willing to take you in, even if its only a symbolic relation. Older takes care of younger and younger takes care of very old and often large families live in one house. Its a tight fit but everyone is happy to be in each others lives. I was fortunate enough to come to understand these things first hand when I as invited to stay with the family in Phnom Pehn. For four days I ate, drank, and slept Cambodian. I was part of the family. I was given the key to an old motorbike for my trip up to Siem Reap 314 km away. It was their idea. Of course I was all for it as I had been hoping that an opportunity such as this would present itself at some point. I almost bought a motorbike in Hanoi for a ride through the mountains of northwestern Vietnam and into Laos. I wanted to buy one in Cambodia as well but the current level of funds forced me to decide against this, I thought I was going to be stuck to the bus for the rest of my trip. Then, without intervention from my inward desires, I was off tearing through the countryside aboard a Honda Dream 100. Without having to pay a cent no less.
I left Phnom Pehn at 7am on the morning of the 25th. I wanted to set out before the traffic became too bad. I probably should have left at midnight. The route was pretty straight forward. Ride along side the river on 6A for a bit, then change to 6 when river and road diverge. The morning ride was beautiful. The sun rising over the river and the gentle kick of dust from the other motorists made for gorgeous picture. The afternoon was hot. The sun was overhead and I knew my arms were going to be red the next day. But on I road. Around 12:30 I needed to take my first stop for fuel. I had made it nearly half way or around 150 km. I was impressed with the mileage and figured I would need only maybe one or two more stops before getting to Siem Reap. A quick bite of food from a little local noodle stall and I mounted back up and continued my journey. The ride was going well, though I had supreme confidence. I had been preparing for the trip for the past three months. Renting motos in Thailand, Malaysia, Vietnam and Laos I understood the bike and knew its place amongst the others on the road. Overachieving little cycles these things are. A brand new one runs about $1500 here but the real deal is to be had with a used one that sometimes only sets you back around $400. And it seems just about every kilometre there is a motorbike shop and/or it would not be hard to find someone with mechanical expertise for the ubiquitous transport. Around 4pm I made my final stop. The sun had beaten down on me all day and my ass way getting baboon red. I took a seat under some shade and took a much needed break. I had come from the center of the city out into the country side. The landscape changed from riverside lush into a flat arid expanse. The sun was hot and had bleached the cows white. I was happy to be almost there. I had only two hours left to go to get into Siem Reap and I could feel my second wind kicking in. I balled that jack and pushed the little moto up to what felt like maybe 65 or 70 mph. Of course I couldn't tell, the odometer was broke. What seemed like soon I arrived on the outskirts of the town and already saw entrances to temples just off the road. The sights around this area of Cambodia are scattered all around. The surrounding temples were built at different periods in history but have been erected in close proximity to the ancient Khmer capitol. As I approached the inner town, keeping an eye on the fuel gauge which portrayed a level just above the 'E' I kept the other eye out for cheap accommodation. And just as I got into the main concentration of things the bike gave a putter putter and stall. "Oh, out of gas I guess." Ok, so I would just push the thing across the street, no more than 20 feet, to that gas station over there. I filled it up and I tried to kick her back alive, but to no avail. After ten minutes I decided that something else was up and so took the bike back across the street to where I died in the first place, which coincidentally, happened to be right in front of a moto repair shop. After 10 minutes, one current check, and a $2 dollar coil change I was back off riding again. I found a guesthouse pretty quick too. So, I had made it to Siem Reap. I even had a break down, but as the fates have seemed to prefer it throughout my whole trip, I was left without undue difficulties. Time to hit the hay.
The next day I was called on the cell phone that I acquired back in Phnom Pehn, also from the family, by someone who was my uncle. He had someone else speaking for him for because he can't speak english and let me know that he was going to come and pick me up in a few minutes from my guesthouse. Ok, I'll go along with that. So a few minutes later I was swooped, still don't have his name, and we went to a muslim restaurant. I hadn't eaten yet so I was at least thankful for this much. Then his friend came to me and let me know that this was my dad's wife's brother. And he was going to let me stay with him during my time in Siem Reap. Deal I thought and I smiled with acceptance. So here I am now, in Siem Reap. I have been here for four days and I haven't made it to any of the temples yet. I was planning on staying here for around a month. I have time. I am just living with my uncle's family, trying to learn Khmer and planning my return to the states. It all falls into place when I finally buy my return ticket around the 10th. So until then, I will be reading and writing and seeing the occasional thing.
Take care everyone and thanks for reading, especially you Abe.
Ciao,
Denny
11 days ago I boarded a narrow 12 seat wooden rail of a boat bound for the capitol of Cambodia. I, then, was in Chau Doc, Vietnam. The journey took me nine hours in total to accomplish comprising of three separate legs. The first segment, beginning at 7am, starts in one of the tiny sinuses of the delta heading toward the grand beauty herself. Mekong essentially means mother river and along that first leg I was privy to intimate evidence in rally of her life supporting ways. I was able to take in the rituals of daily delta life as the banks bustled with morning activity. The boat sputtered along at a wake less pace. Children waved, mothers washed, fathers bathed, nets were thrown, buffalo drank, fish jumped, and occasionally a larger more purposeful boat cruised by who's inhabitants seemingly made light of our curiosity. Took pictures of that too. As an added bonus, I was allowed to be an accessory to some sight seeing that a number of the other riders had to purchase in addition to their journey to Phnom Pehn. I was included on a tour of a delta fish farm and a stop at a traditional Cham village. The fish farm was set up underneath the floorboards of the houseboat of the farm's owner and the fish were held contained by nets underneath them. An owner of such an operation can make quite a profit selling his fish back at market. The other type of fish farm around are dugout pools on land that have thousands of fish and between the two, the houseboat farms incur less loss and produce healthier fish. Though, even these sustainable practices are subject to debate. After that we stopped off at one of the local Cham villages. The Cham people have been residents of the Mekong delta for hundreds of years and their empire, at its peak, included the whole of the delta south and as far north along Vietnam's coast as Da Nang. Initially Hindu, around the 16th century they converted to Islam. Today's population now exist in a squeezed region occupying southern Cambodia and Vietnam. The village was a quick stop and really simply our last opportunity to buy a scarf or sarong in Dong.
Eventually, as the red morning sun transitioned to high yellow midday heat, the small canals began to open up in anticipation of intersection with the Mekong. At around 11 I arrived at the border of Cambodia. The outpost situated on the north bank of the river. The waterway itself had opened into a massive expanse of constant flow. Innumerable tufts of green lillies floated past indicating direction. I finally had made it.
The next hour and a half of my life as spent waiting for the boat from Cambodia to arrive with its passengers heading to Vietnam. Leg two of my journey began when I boarded my second boat of the day from the border outpost. This boat was larger, with proper seating and had a deck from which I perched myself for the rest of the afternoon. The great river now made me feel quite small. I took this time to nap.
A few hours later as the sun was slipping back into its red pajamas we made landfall once more. This time to transition into a bus that would take us the final hour into the city of Phnom Pehn. I realized that the fleeting last rays of the sun were insufficient for the boat to continue down an unlit runway thus prompting the change. This was all fine by me and made for a continued interesting journey. Squeezed into a stuffy minibus and forced into conversation with a Swede drunk on ferry Angkor beer, I made my final approach. The road in was in terrible shape The dust made seeing and breathing difficult. The scenery, though, was beautiful and inspiring. Flat as a board just like they said, with palms on the far away distance dotting the horizon. After a full working day of travel, I arrived to a night fallen Phnom Pehn. My excitement spared me no moment and I just had to get out among the people. So as soon as I found a room, I was out pounding the muggy warm pavement. I didn't know where I was exactly, I only knew that I wasn't near the tourist area. I was deep in a Khmer area of town and I knew yet nothing of the language. So that first walk was simply a brain adjustment. The first dip into a new culture pool. It takes a little while to adjust to new surroundings and people. I knew the Cambodians were going to be just as different from the Vietnamese as the Laos from the Thai. Each region produces idiosyncrasies that my inquisitive mind loves to identify and observe. Its these subtle differences of human evolution that have entertained me to no end throughout this trip. I love trying to hide myself and observe daily life. It just makes me tick. So I spent a good two hours walking, not too far away from my home but far enough to feel the buzz. I concluded my evening with a well deserved pastry and strode back to the guesthouse. I was happy and I could sense that I was heading into a new adventure. The final chapter on this trip was upon.
I spent three nights at the guesthouse. I paid $6 a night. This was a good rate but I wanted/needed better. At this point in the journey the funds have gotten quite low and now every dollar must be accounted for and rationalized, pastries are reserved for special occasions. Over those few days I tried to take in as much Khmer life as I could without spending cash. I made friends with two boys back at the guesthouse. Thom, 22, recently hired making a salary of $40 a month trying to save money to continue his schooling which runs at $60 per month. He was short and I made a remark about this one day and he let me know that he could be tall like me but he couldn't afford the medicine which was $25. The other was Bpee who was 30 and an orphan. He earned the same wages and both boys lived in the guesthouse. Never once asked for charity and one night even invited me for beers. I was their guest and they were honored and insisted on paying the bill. I bought the last two rounds and we had a great time together. Thom has invited me to visit his village for New Year on the 14th, that would be nice.
In addition to living on the cheap, I was trying to contact my extended Cambodian family that lived in Phnom Pehn. First I got a hold of my dad who said his friend has a sister that lives in the capitol and I was told to call them when I got in. My father, born in Bat Dambang province, was an only child and his parents are no longer alive so I don't have any bloodline connections in Cambodia, but what I do have is the Cambodian extended family. The familial bond is strong in the culture here and you always have a cousin or nephew or uncle or aunt or sister willing to take you in, even if its only a symbolic relation. Older takes care of younger and younger takes care of very old and often large families live in one house. Its a tight fit but everyone is happy to be in each others lives. I was fortunate enough to come to understand these things first hand when I as invited to stay with the family in Phnom Pehn. For four days I ate, drank, and slept Cambodian. I was part of the family. I was given the key to an old motorbike for my trip up to Siem Reap 314 km away. It was their idea. Of course I was all for it as I had been hoping that an opportunity such as this would present itself at some point. I almost bought a motorbike in Hanoi for a ride through the mountains of northwestern Vietnam and into Laos. I wanted to buy one in Cambodia as well but the current level of funds forced me to decide against this, I thought I was going to be stuck to the bus for the rest of my trip. Then, without intervention from my inward desires, I was off tearing through the countryside aboard a Honda Dream 100. Without having to pay a cent no less.
I left Phnom Pehn at 7am on the morning of the 25th. I wanted to set out before the traffic became too bad. I probably should have left at midnight. The route was pretty straight forward. Ride along side the river on 6A for a bit, then change to 6 when river and road diverge. The morning ride was beautiful. The sun rising over the river and the gentle kick of dust from the other motorists made for gorgeous picture. The afternoon was hot. The sun was overhead and I knew my arms were going to be red the next day. But on I road. Around 12:30 I needed to take my first stop for fuel. I had made it nearly half way or around 150 km. I was impressed with the mileage and figured I would need only maybe one or two more stops before getting to Siem Reap. A quick bite of food from a little local noodle stall and I mounted back up and continued my journey. The ride was going well, though I had supreme confidence. I had been preparing for the trip for the past three months. Renting motos in Thailand, Malaysia, Vietnam and Laos I understood the bike and knew its place amongst the others on the road. Overachieving little cycles these things are. A brand new one runs about $1500 here but the real deal is to be had with a used one that sometimes only sets you back around $400. And it seems just about every kilometre there is a motorbike shop and/or it would not be hard to find someone with mechanical expertise for the ubiquitous transport. Around 4pm I made my final stop. The sun had beaten down on me all day and my ass way getting baboon red. I took a seat under some shade and took a much needed break. I had come from the center of the city out into the country side. The landscape changed from riverside lush into a flat arid expanse. The sun was hot and had bleached the cows white. I was happy to be almost there. I had only two hours left to go to get into Siem Reap and I could feel my second wind kicking in. I balled that jack and pushed the little moto up to what felt like maybe 65 or 70 mph. Of course I couldn't tell, the odometer was broke. What seemed like soon I arrived on the outskirts of the town and already saw entrances to temples just off the road. The sights around this area of Cambodia are scattered all around. The surrounding temples were built at different periods in history but have been erected in close proximity to the ancient Khmer capitol. As I approached the inner town, keeping an eye on the fuel gauge which portrayed a level just above the 'E' I kept the other eye out for cheap accommodation. And just as I got into the main concentration of things the bike gave a putter putter and stall. "Oh, out of gas I guess." Ok, so I would just push the thing across the street, no more than 20 feet, to that gas station over there. I filled it up and I tried to kick her back alive, but to no avail. After ten minutes I decided that something else was up and so took the bike back across the street to where I died in the first place, which coincidentally, happened to be right in front of a moto repair shop. After 10 minutes, one current check, and a $2 dollar coil change I was back off riding again. I found a guesthouse pretty quick too. So, I had made it to Siem Reap. I even had a break down, but as the fates have seemed to prefer it throughout my whole trip, I was left without undue difficulties. Time to hit the hay.
The next day I was called on the cell phone that I acquired back in Phnom Pehn, also from the family, by someone who was my uncle. He had someone else speaking for him for because he can't speak english and let me know that he was going to come and pick me up in a few minutes from my guesthouse. Ok, I'll go along with that. So a few minutes later I was swooped, still don't have his name, and we went to a muslim restaurant. I hadn't eaten yet so I was at least thankful for this much. Then his friend came to me and let me know that this was my dad's wife's brother. And he was going to let me stay with him during my time in Siem Reap. Deal I thought and I smiled with acceptance. So here I am now, in Siem Reap. I have been here for four days and I haven't made it to any of the temples yet. I was planning on staying here for around a month. I have time. I am just living with my uncle's family, trying to learn Khmer and planning my return to the states. It all falls into place when I finally buy my return ticket around the 10th. So until then, I will be reading and writing and seeing the occasional thing.
Take care everyone and thanks for reading, especially you Abe.
Ciao,
Denny
01 February 2010
To Tube or Not to Tube...
31 Jan. 2010 Vang Vieng, Laos
A fine question posed to all those enter Laos. It will be on the entry visa paperwork soon, I reckon. The answer, not as simple to arrive at as one might first think. Considerable consideration must be taken before one does make the jump, or rather, drops in headlong via rope swing/zipline/dodgy tarpoline slide. Almost two years ago, when I was beginning my preliminary exploration into the idea of traveling to South East Asia, I had heard about "tubing" in Laos. Folks who had been to the region previous years told me of the fun to be had in Laos on a tube in river in the middle of the country. I had also heard rumours about it on the internet and in books and magazines. I can tell you this, at current, it is a thing that has reached phenomenon status among the traveling community, and for some it becomes a unquestioned stop in the itinerary, but for others it is avoided like Delhi fruit. But prey tell you say, what what is it?
Well, there is a river you see, north of the capitol of Vientiane, 3hr by bus, called the Nam Ou river that saunters its way southward and that finds itself foreground to quite the picturesque scene. Those same limestone formations that rise straight out to of the earth and stretch up for the sky that find themselves in so many a photographic opportunity across SE Asia provide much for the backdrop. The weather, a perfect mid to upper 80's. The town is a formerly sleepy little village called Vang Vieng. The locals, happy smiley Laos. The idea is the same in Laos than to that of any other tubed river in any other part of the world. Sun + beer + slow moving river + floating device = afternoon of terrific fun. The only difference being is that what has been created on the Nam Ou is something that before the mid 90's existed only in "dude, what if..." land. Yes, things like ziplines, swings, and slides have put on the shores of a river before but never in such concentration. Add to that what could be very well considered the most entrepreneurial endeavor for Laos people could be the addition of shore side bars. And not just a couple, but many, though, most are situated at the put in. Each bar coming equipped with their own massive sound system, rope attached to some high branch or bamboo poles, and bottomless bottles of "whisky." You float down and they toss you out a drink line, grab hold and your drinking copiously in no time. Occasionally, you rouse yourself to make a swing off a trapeze bar into the river below or are simply ready to float down to the next bar. Smiles all around. "You don't even need to rent a tube man. Just drink at the first couple bars and hang out." -tubing veteran. What's wrong with that?
A fine question posed to all those enter Laos. It will be on the entry visa paperwork soon, I reckon. The answer, not as simple to arrive at as one might first think. Considerable consideration must be taken before one does make the jump, or rather, drops in headlong via rope swing/zipline/dodgy tarpoline slide. Almost two years ago, when I was beginning my preliminary exploration into the idea of traveling to South East Asia, I had heard about "tubing" in Laos. Folks who had been to the region previous years told me of the fun to be had in Laos on a tube in river in the middle of the country. I had also heard rumours about it on the internet and in books and magazines. I can tell you this, at current, it is a thing that has reached phenomenon status among the traveling community, and for some it becomes a unquestioned stop in the itinerary, but for others it is avoided like Delhi fruit. But prey tell you say, what what is it?
Well, there is a river you see, north of the capitol of Vientiane, 3hr by bus, called the Nam Ou river that saunters its way southward and that finds itself foreground to quite the picturesque scene. Those same limestone formations that rise straight out to of the earth and stretch up for the sky that find themselves in so many a photographic opportunity across SE Asia provide much for the backdrop. The weather, a perfect mid to upper 80's. The town is a formerly sleepy little village called Vang Vieng. The locals, happy smiley Laos. The idea is the same in Laos than to that of any other tubed river in any other part of the world. Sun + beer + slow moving river + floating device = afternoon of terrific fun. The only difference being is that what has been created on the Nam Ou is something that before the mid 90's existed only in "dude, what if..." land. Yes, things like ziplines, swings, and slides have put on the shores of a river before but never in such concentration. Add to that what could be very well considered the most entrepreneurial endeavor for Laos people could be the addition of shore side bars. And not just a couple, but many, though, most are situated at the put in. Each bar coming equipped with their own massive sound system, rope attached to some high branch or bamboo poles, and bottomless bottles of "whisky." You float down and they toss you out a drink line, grab hold and your drinking copiously in no time. Occasionally, you rouse yourself to make a swing off a trapeze bar into the river below or are simply ready to float down to the next bar. Smiles all around. "You don't even need to rent a tube man. Just drink at the first couple bars and hang out." -tubing veteran. What's wrong with that?
Autumn and I arrived in Vang Vieng late in the evening 2 hrs past a quoted 3hr ride. The town itself is a single strip of hotels and guesthouses built to house the drunk and stupid interspersed by restaurants to put food into those same. We were wrangled into pretty much the first guesthouse that caught our eye and it fit neatly into our wallets. Our not so loose schedule had us being entertained in Vang Vieng for about three nights. So we chose the following morning to hit the river. During that morning's breakfast we were accompanied by a girl whom Autumn had befriended during a bus stop piss break a few nights before on the journey from Hanoi. Those breaks are never so pleasant for the female race and bonds form quickly among them if only to commiserate over the deplorable conditions. So the three of us had breakfast and discussed our ideas of the river. Then, just as we were winding things up, an Aussie couple approached, who knew our friend from days before from someplace else and a short polite conversation broke out. Eventually an accord was struck we had formed ourselves a tubing troupe. The Aussies were in their mid thirties and chill and the other girl was mid twenties and had never consumed a beer in her life, though, she was from London. Peculiar, I thought, but that was to end soon.
You can escape the idiots by getting past the first four bars, which means after a six minute float, you're clear. Soon, you have a nice little bamboo mat and shade all to yourself and your mates. Drink and converse and laugh and watch the locals do some of the most craziest shit off the rope swing. Then your nerve rises, or the alcohol kicks in, and you give it a go. Ascend the ladder about 15ft and swing....scream.....splash! What good fun. The sun does well to dry your swimwear but your exuberance douses them again with river water. All told there may be 20 or so bars eying your wallet through that waterproof bag around your neck. But the idea is to get back into town by 6pm to get your full deposit back. We missed it by 10 minutes. Maybe if we cut out just one bar, or swung on one less rope swing, or never came across those hilarious talking birds at that classic rock bar, then we would not have been penalized the 20,000 kip, or $2.50, ah regrets. The true weight of the experience lied within the serenity and utter beauty of our surroundings. For many of those damn fools with their blinders past their eyes and their girls skwaking absurdly into their ears the true beauty was lost. The river plotted us a course past these magnificent limestone walls. When we were sufficiently a few bends of the river past the nearest speaker thumping bar, you could hear the birds and float innocently away, with beer in hand of coarse, staring at a canvas that never moved. I spied local children spearfishing for tiny river fish that, once slayed, they would put into a Skippies jar. As sunset approached water buffalo made for the river and you would find yourself silently floating past a dozen beautiful black beasts of burden out for an evening dip. The massive things would bellow low range grunts and hmmphs just feet away as if to remind you that you were in Laos, as if it were necessary.
The real tug on the conscience happens when you see the Laos having to work so hard to keep up with demand of the eating and feeding and servicing of all the farang. They are really fun loving people who just want a life without stress and enjoy the simple pleasures of life. And I think that is why this tubing has become such a favorable destination among the westerners. Some make their entire vacation a trip to Vang Vieng. Its simply a tiny little slice of the Laos way of life when at play. The entire concept was born in the early 90's by some good time locals who decided that putting in up the river and floating through this terrific landscape was one hell of a quality way to spend a day. The thing just built from there. Swings were added and of coarse booze, the Laos love to drink. Then, as inevitable and unfortunate as time, the Lonely Planet caught wind and published a description of the scene and how to get there. Soon, heaps of foreigners were making their way via suggested itinerary to the river to play. A quiet little village in the middle of the country became a tourist destination, and tourists have money. I had several conversations with locals in an effort to try and get a pulse on what has become of their Vang Vieng. Most assuredly they are aware that they are the hardest working people in the whole of Laos. 13+hr days is common among those who are working in hospitality. And those in transport take a lot of guff from drunken simpletons. Add to that they have to bear witness to bare bodies making for the water. Which often can be a bit much for the older more modest locals. Though, for the young Laos, its something that just is. They are not a naive people who are locked away from the rest of the world. They know that this is an opportunity, one that they figure their parents never had. The incoming flow of money opens doors for possibilities that otherwise would be a dream, like traveling themselves. I think everyone of us has asked a local somewhere sometime or another if they have traveled anywhere and usually the answer is a smiling no, not possible, but I hope someday. So, they are now working hard, taking our money with a smile and living a different life. I asked a guy from Laos on the long bus from Hanoi what to do in Laos and the first thing he mentioned was Vang Vieng. He was headed their too, his vacation. They are proud that it has become world famous. The Laos love their rivers, they love their mountains, they love their life. And it's a love that you desperately you want to taste and hold in your cheek on for awhile. Yes it goes beyond simple admiration. You want to be Laos.
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