Angkor Wat

Saturday-Angkor time

Time to join the throngs of tourist who flock to Cambodia’s most famous attractive, the vast Angkor Wat complex. Despite the devastation of war this is ‘the most important archaeological site in the world’ according to my guide book, and after painstaking mine clearance is now open to the world –the signs warning everyone to stay on the marked paths are a telling reminder of the turbulent modern history at stark odds with the ruins of the holy metropolis of Angkor, which for six centuries between Ad 802 and Ad1432 was the hub of Khmer Empire. The remains now occupy over 200sq kms; 70plus temples, tombs and ruins beyond counting, and the symbolic Angkor Wat.

As this was the reason for coming here, I rose early to take the guest house recommended tuk tuk to begin exploring. The pictures attached to this blog tell the story of a very long day!

The heat is crippling here, but I began fresh and cool to take the oddly named ‘small’ tour which takes in the central temples (the grand tour is 30 miles round as opposed to the 20 I would have done except I chose a different way-rightly or wrongly). The reason I changed the route was that my driver opted to begin my tour back to front-a way often recommended to avoid the crowds. So my first sight was a gentle one, a small temple off the beaten track where smiling faces looked down on me as I wended my way around the ruins and clambered in and out of chambers, admired sculptures, clambered up towers to survey the dense forest below…

A Quiet Temple at 8am

Feeling Relaxed

Still feeling fresh

 But by 11 ish, after one hot long clamber to the ‘unfinished’ temple-one in hard stone abandoned after it was struck by lightening and deemed unlucky, I was already fading. Sitting in the shade consuming by ‘picnic ‘ (two cakes and a banana) provided by the guest house, having declined the tuk tuk drivers idea that we have lunch together in a restaurant –wonder who would be paying for that then! - and worn down with fighting off beggar children/hawkers –one child snatched my coke bottle, I had to wrestle it back!-I decided I wanted to see the main attractions. Lovely though the outlying temples were, especially the one with the banyan trees growing through the ruins, I was under whelmed.

Top of the Unfinished Temple

So off we set for Angkor Thom-see picture of me in the splendid approach via the South Gate. This was much more impressive, the Bayon temple mountain has over 200 enigmatic stone faces. My driver left me to explore; which turned out to be less impressive as the temple is spread over 10 kms and it was very hot! Clambering to the top of the royal palace of Phimeanakas I looked longingly for my transport, but the only way seemed to be along the blazing dust track. Fortunately a kind Cambodian lady took pity on me and offered me a lift in her tuk tuk-it is, she said, such a shame that drivers invariably are rather lazy, apologising profusely for her nation’s habit of taking advantage of tourists, bless her.

Angkor Thom - South Gate

 

The face of Bayon - one of many examples

View from the Royal Palace - Anyone seen my Tuk Tuk?

Seeking sanctuary in a shady café a fruit shake and a kind smile from another lovely lady who took pity on me and ensured I was protected from the hassle surrounding the other customers I revived enough to locate the tuk tuk –my not happy expression obviously gave him the idea a tip was out of the question-and off we set to Angkor Wat.

Angkor Wat

By now it was gone 3pm, my legs and head were aching and the temples were losing their appeal. Determined however to see the main event I rose to the occasion, marching out over the long causeway staring up at the impressive iconic skyline.
By mid afternoon the main crowds were gone and the sunset masses yet to arrive, so it was relatively quiet, a blessing. The bas reliefs were stunning in the late afternoon light, and the carvings of the celestial dancing girls clearer without the glare. I wandered around drinking in the view, watching monks sit cool and serene in sacred steps, until I could literally barely walk another step.

Serene Monk

The final picture in the sequence shows me looking worn out before slowly crawling into the tuk tuk to return for coffee with sweet milk and a very long cold shower. As I type I am watching ‘The Killing Fields’, the DVD provided by my Cambodian hosts to promote an understanding of Cambodia past and present. An apt end to a unique day.

End of a long day

Siem Reap

Friday passed in a blur of Cambodian countryside viewed from the window of the Giant Ibis coach. Leaving Phnom Penh the roads immediately became rutted gravel highways shared with tractors, oxen, tuk tuks, motorbikes, chickens…so although I was in the comparative luxury of an air conditioned bus the journey itself is a slow bumpy nightmare, as always.

The seven hour journey, broken only once for lunch in the middle of nowhere (or in my case an ice coffee, food not being a good idea given the lurching motion of the transport) was enlivened by films shown high above our heads on mute screens The scenery is relentlessly similar; there are no towns just fields, rice paddies, dust clouds and the odd village, so I found myself absorbed in Street Dance, Rise of Planet of the Apes.....

The guest house here provided a welcome iced tea/banana chips/free coffee and finally a bed, which I fell into only to spent the night suffering from bus induced motion sickness.

Sunset over the Mekong

The city centre riverside here is where the tourists/wealthy come out to play. Lined though it is with throngs of beggars/street hawkers/rubbish/etc it is also a cosmopolitan fairground displaying the more attractive side of Phnom Penh.

The last few days have left me emotionally and physically wrung out.  I ventured to the massive ‘Russian market’ this morning, an enormous cavern of stalls selling absolutely anything you may want and almost certainly don’t. Brought nothing this time, I do not feel comfortable yet in Cambodia, the dollars/reisch combination is confusing when I’m under pressure and stories abound around the pool from guests who’ve been ripped off.

And talking of the pool, that’s what I did this afternoon.  Guilt free for once, I sat under the shade of the fragrant blossoms, read my book, swam in the little pool, relaxed, slept and finally roused myself enough to go for a sunset wander once the heat dropped at 5pm.

There is a carnival atmosphere along the riverbanks at sunset and it was a pleasure to see Cambodia and Cambodians at their best, families dressed up to promenade along by the illuminated Royal Palace (see pic), monks happy to pose by their temple (see pic), locals going home by boat to their villages (see pic) and the setting sun casting a rosy glow over the buildings.

Illuminated Royal Palace

Monks outside temple

Time to go home

Sunset

I inadvertently got caught on camera; a BBC film crew are doing a documentary called ‘A cabbie in Cambodia’ due to be screened in May, little did I realise when I impulsively joined in the usual evening aerobics – much less energetic here than in Vietnam or Laos, quite a relief to be honest!!-that the presenter was not far from me being filmed sweating profusely….I have my fingers crossed that I was out of shot! As soon as I noticed the film crew I slipped out of the crowd to find out what was what, forewarned is forearmed-and the documentary will be fascinating viewing so that’s for the calendar.

Tomorrow I leave for Siem Reap on the Giant Ibis bus-oh joy, more bus rides. I cannot understand why my case seems never to get any lighter, I am sure it has shrunk, given all I have brought are two pairs of shorts and a tube of toothpaste!! At least there isn’t a weight limit, as long as I can hurl it into the luggage compartment, it should be good to go……………

The Killing Fields.

As per the ‘Vietnam’ War, I have vivid memories from my childhood of the controversy surrounding Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. I recall a sense that the world was turning a blind eye to an outrageous regime but I lacked an understanding of the situation.

Cambodia today is a mess in every sense of the world but now I appreciate the horrendous legacy of its very recent past I can see why.  In the chaos caused by US bombing, Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge were able to take control in the seventies. Their policy of communal country living involved destroying cities, killing profession urbanites, the most likely to be vocally opposed to the regime, governing by torture and fear, left the nation bereft of an infrastructure, minus trained educated people, and cities in ruins.

Even when the Khmer Rouge were overturned in 1979 the country struggled to get back on its feet. The intervention of the UN in 1993 brought aid, stability and some kind of order but this is a hard city to be visit. There is no transport, so I am at the mercy of tuk tuks desperate to make a buck (literally, Cambodian currency has no worth, you pay in dollars but get change in Cambodian money to use in markets/street stalls, very confusing).

The depths of poverty here echoes that of Delhi, beggars run alongside tuk tuks putting their hands through the barbed grills keeping people ‘safe’ –I am now sporting a gash in my leg thanks to the ‘protection’ system-the moment I leave the hotel I develop magnetic powers like a surreal Iron Man, immediately clad in hands pulling at my clothes, followed by tuk tuks shouting, if only I had a protective suit, but all I can do shout ‘Ah Tee’ (NO) and walk as fast as is possible given the traffic mania.

Visiting the Killing Fields site at Choeung El and the Genocide museum here in town has been vital for an empathy with Cambodia and Cambodians.  There are over 300 killing fields in this country where thousands were buried in mass graves. It is a teeth chattering bone shaking one hour ride over rutted gravel tracks by tuk tuk but worth the bumping, the eye watering dust, the putrid smells from the rubbish filled drainage ditches and manure as the route winds through farming territory where oxen are king of the road.

The open field at journey’s end is bare, full of dust holes, dominated by a memorial tower. Yet what could have been a tourist trap is a land which echoes with the past. Visitors were few but everyone, regardless of age, ethnicity or nationality, walks around in silence (audio guides provided) often in tears.

Stopping to see the piles of clothes and bones still regularly washed up during the rains,  the row of magnolia trees planted to mark the line of ditches where thousands perished,  the rows of skulls carefully preserved within the Stupa, the thousands of prayer bracelets laid by worshippers over the years, walking the lake listening to Khmer music composed to mark this site, I too cried my eyes out.

The ‘magic’ tree which now offers shade from the blazing sun was used to play traditional music to drown out the victims screams (the Khmer Rouge chose this spot as it was already a Chinese burial site so they believed no one would realise what was happening) , the tree trunk by the women’s graves where children were battered to death before being thrown in after their mothers, the Sugar Palm where the sharp spikes were used to torture before execution, nature here has a dreadful history to tell. The simple signs which dot the fields plus the audio guide are enough to wring one out with emotion; a unifying stillness as visitors sit or stand in reflection and respect.

See pics of children’s clothes/skulls and the row of flowering trees behind which are ditches (graves) as far as the eye can see. Plus the simple towering Memorial Stupa housing hundreds of skulls, storey after storey.

Piles of bones & clothing

Human Skulls

Magnolia trees masking the burial grounds

Memorial Stupa

The S21 torture museum in the town is also a telling testament to the cruelty man can inflate on man.

The former high school was used by the Khmer Rouge to torture and execute. It has left/reconstructed as it was found in 1979 by the liberation army, the barbed wire sealing off the balconies so the prisoners could not commit suicide, the dark wooden cells, the grilled beds, the piles of bones and discarded clothing from those killed here.

During Pol Pots regime towns/cities were destroyed and thousands forced to the countryside to work in the rice fields. Today the state has made it compulsory to keep the archives of this time as a memorial to those who died and as a lesson for the future.

Yet given the chaos of Phnom Penh, the poverty, the dirt, the dust, the desperation, it may be generations yet before it is truly behind the Cambodian nation. I have only been able to cope here thanks to Martin, my son’s friend, and his fiancé Gemma who have provided me with invaluable company/local knowledge.

Yesterday they scooped me up on their scooters once they had finished work in the late afternoon, took me for a market run, negotiated a fair price for my purchases (below the knee shorts, it wasn’t that I brought the wrong clothes from England, it is that you can only buy the right clothes here!) sorted out my bus ticket for Siem Reap, found me a reliable tuk tuk driver for the Killing Fields trip today, shared supper with me and showed me the myriad diverse sides of the city from the (relative) safety of the motorbike pillion. Without their friendship it would be very hard to cope here. I have retreated to the sanctuary of the small hotel pool often not just to relax but also to escape the continual harassment, noise, dust, grime, smells….but equally this is a country where the present is still dealing with a past which is impossible to forget, a very unique place unlike anywhere else in Asia.

Cambodia - Day 2

Off to explore, taking a ‘moto’ taxi ( alas, one who needless to say had no idea where he was going so I got a scenic ride around the entire city for my one dollar) to the central riverfront area. The tuk tuks who ply the hotel entrance overcharge, so I hot footed it to the street corner to find the cheaper option. Then I used the three dollars I saved to buy two delicious iced frappes and a hot pineapple tart with ice cream for lunch!

Lunch

Tis as hot here as in Vientiane, by noon there is no way to be outside. Yesterday was a long long day so I lingered over breakfast –the buffet was a treat too after the coffee/banana repast at Laos-by the time I had bartered my way into the city centre it was already 11am and by midday I needed to seek sanctuary. The museums and Palaces did not appeal, but a massage did, especially the unique experience of a massage parlour run by trained blind therapists, the Cambodian ‘thing’. As the masseurs were men, I opted for a back neck and shoulder hour. Clothed in simple tunic and trousers it was genuinely touching to feel hands sensing my position; very different/very good. Odd to find no mirrors in the bathroom, no lights until I asked for one when the young sighted girl on reception found a switch…

Western influences

Cambodian Massage

The Mekong here is wide and high again as in Vietnam, there is a striking similarity to Hanoi/Saigon not least in the high degree of poverty. Beggars and street children are everywhere-advice is not to stop as most are run by gangs, it is heartbreaking to see toddlers playing naked in dirty puddles.

I am constantly amazed at how quickly the mind and body adjusts-last night I was exhausted/scared but this evening, post recuperative swim, I was happy to wander the local streets after dark without (too much) fear. An early night beckons though….

Transfer Day, March 2nd.

Dawn in Laos, midnight in Cambodia; coffee and bananas with the chickens to Mexican tortillas in a Khmer restaurant in Phnom Penh After the quiet stillness of Laos, Phnom Phen is overwhelming.

The tuk tuk to Vientiane ‘international’ airport takes 10 minutes; there was no sign of my plane when I and about twenty others checked in at the requisite two hours-actually, I’d only allowed 90 minutes due to past experience!-but Vietnam Airways staff insisted it was ‘not delayed, just late’. Fair enough. 

It duly landed 20 minutes after we were supposed to be in the air, we trundled out onto the blazing tarmac in the reverse direction to those walking off, clambered on, and we were off only 40 minutes late. Good result by Asian standards.  A one hour flight with soft drink, light meal plus coffee.  Beats Ryan Air.

Arriving in Phnom Phen I found the noise, traffic, sheer size, overwhelming and oddly reassuring; my first sight of a Costa Coffee for weeks. English signs. Shops with doors. Traffic lights-mind you, no one obeys them here either.

My original hotel turned out to be underneath a building site. Reception was coated in drilling dust. I had a tantrum. So a transfer was arranged to the sister hotel nearby. Also underneath a building site. Another tantrum! So I am now in on the 10th floor, overlooking the city from my balcony. This ‘frangipani living arts’ hotel rather than the smaller villa base I’d booked has a swimming pool-bliss in the city heat….I floated my tired aching bones for ages staring up at the bright blue sky.

View from Hotel

 

View down to the swimming pool

Colin’s university friend Martin and his lovely fiancé who are teaching here gathered me up in a tuk tuk and swept me out to dinner. So wonderful to have local knowledge (the tuk tuk prices for a start!) and over a fabulous Mexican meal of real cheddar cheese tortillas in a restaurant run by friends of theirs who fled the Khmer Rouge to California, learnt to cook Mexican and then came back-we shared beers, traveller's tales and gossip.

Memories of Laos

This country, only open to tourists since 1989, is complex, confusing and absolutely wonderful, a joy to visit. Since my first glimpse flying into Luang Prabang in a ‘prop’ plane between the mountain ranges and gazing down onto limitless valleys I fell in love with Laos.

Travelling North to South is easier, Luang Prabang is a gentle, holy site cooled by the mighty Mekong, where the temples control the pace of life and monks make up the highest percentage of the population. Vang Vieng is spectacular; far more than the tubing spot for the younger traveller, a town little developed despite the passing people traffic-so rustic and rural that I should have know it was not the right choice for an eyebrow job!

Vientiane at first is harder to love but winds itself around you like a flower.  The city is full of quirkiness and curiosities. Tourism is here but underdeveloped, business is here but there is little development bar the traffic. The architecture demonstrates the nation’s complex past, an intriguing mix of French, Vietnamese, Soviet and now US influences.

A map is impossible to follow here as roads are half finished, leaving me stranded on a dirt track more than once!  The morning and night street foods fill the air with delicious smells…alas the Laos people love their meat, so vegetarian food is harder, I am living on sticky rice, noodles, bananas, dried fruit-I crave a lettuce at times, and cheddar cheese-oh how I miss hard cheese now!

Today I went to the Cope Centre to spend a moving morning watching the war against unexploded bombs which still goes on here. As one veteran of an UXE said to me ‘for us the war which never was never ended’. Despite Laos’s neutral status, during the Vietnam War it became the most heavily bombed country in the world per capita and thousands are still to be discovered.

The cost to life is incredibly high. Not least because the trade in scrap metal in the poor rural areas is booming, so children will search for cluster bombs (‘bombies’) to sell. ‘Cope’ is a charity which helps not just with prosthetic limbs and rehabilitation but also to re-educate in the villages, teaching locals not to touch bombies but to report them and wait for teams to make them safe.

These teams now provide work, so instead of growing crops the villages earn money by clearing bombs, dropped either with intent or simply to lighten loads as the aircraft crossed back after missions to Vietnam. Clearing has been even harder as Laos is a county made up of ethnic mixes keeping themselves to themselves, so central organisation is complex.

By noon the heat today is oppressive so the city grinds to a halt. Even swimming in the lovely pool is impossible until 3pm or so.  I treat myself to a final Laos massage with oil, a glorious 90 minutes of having every muscle and sinew stretched out.
And tonight one final wander along the river watching the golden orb of the sun drop over Thailand (and then the golden arches of the Thai MacDonald’s come into view opposite, beckoning the faithful; it draws many for regular  ‘bridge’ runs from non westernised Laos).  Tomorrow I head for Cambodia but Laos has carved a special niche in my psyche, I hope to return to this gentle kind nation one day.