I have decided that walking barefoot is not a matter of whether you have money to buy shoes or not. It grounds you, keeps you in better touch with the earth, and quite frankly prevents you from spraining your ankle or breaking your leg whle, for instance, trying to climb up Angkor Wat, or the hill tribe village mud path to the "nature loo". You may think I have been doing too much Reiki, Yoga and chakra work. Well nothing like too much fo that, but this really stems from my continuous habit of removing my flip flops to climb through the countryside. It's just so much easier and my balance is so much better. Of course, it's so darned hot here (35 degrees and not even April yet!) that wearing anything other than open toed flip flops would be pure lunacy. I used to always walk around barefoot when I was a child. I have taken up that old habit again, particularly because in Asia, no shoes are ever allowed inside the house, the shop, and most commercial outlets that are not in a big city. Nice! You even get special flip flops to get into some public toilets
I also enjoy getting tamarind paste candy on my flights. It's certainly better than some stale cracker...or these days, nothing at all. It's the grace of Asia that has charmed me; the people bowing at each other with their hands in prayer, smiling from the heart, moving gracefully through their lives, dressing in their traditional garments, eating seasonal foods, coming to life on the street, mingling with each other in the evening night bazaars, welcoming the foreigner, talking to anybody on the street just to practise their newly learned language or to find out simply where you are from....I could go on and on.
For now, I will tell you about one of the many things I plan to export back to my country and install in my toilet. It's the "chorro", or in English, the water jet to clean your ass everytime you go to the toilet. This thing, my friends is a GOD-send! It is a hose attached to the water main that appears magically in every WC I have encountered, public or private, across most of the Asian countries (bar China) I have been to. It hangs inconspicuously beside the water cistern, with a switch on the end to activate the power jet of water that will clean away EV-ER-Y-THING! Forget about wet wipes, toilet paper (which in most parts of Asia is actually served on your dining table as a napkin!) or bad underwear days! The water jet is THE FUTURE! And this my friends is shared by every single male and female traveller I have encountered....well, with some people that is once they realise the thing isn't to clean their dirty feet. I tell you, these Asians are onto something. Pictures to follow.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Monday, March 27, 2006
Aaaahhhh Luang Prabang
I think I have discovered my 2nd favourite place in South East Asia: Luang Prabang, Laos. I have also rekindled my joy of travelling alone, reading my book over a cold drink in a terrace, or just wandering aimlessly awaiting to be surprised and lured into the hidden nookks of this sleepy, colonial town surrounded by water.
I sit tall above the sandy banks of the Mekong river while I eat Laab, my new favourite Asian food, and watch 5 young boys playing rope and falling in and out of the waters of the river. They don't know I am watching, peeking, getting a glimpse of their life and being transported back to my sleepy summers in Spain where life was slow, careless, the days were long and hot, the nights warm, the air fresh, the sound of crickets inundating the voices of the air...day and night. When the boys tire of their games and laughter, they walk up to a garden patch and steal some fruits before running off home. I sit, privy to this life, in the terrace by the riverbed, and I while away watching time go by with a cold lemongrass tea in hand. I have rented a bicycle and cycled through the small cobbled lanes, amidst trees dropping their fragrant flowers on the ground, hidden wats with golden columns, red brick roofs, white washed walls and that quiet air the monks breathe, with their saffron colored robes and their golden skins basted in the Lao sun. I see women washing the dishes in their plastic buckets on the floor, or preparing "nems" or fresh rolls in the shade of a tree overlooking the river. It is 3 in the afternoon, the sun comes down hard and the 38 degrees turn life into slow motion.
And then I stop and realise there is no noise around me....but the town is humming. The old colonial homes overlooking the dirt lanes stand tall; newly repainted, restored and looking proud, yet without pretension, over their neighbouring traditional Lao homes and guesthouses with their brick bottom and wooden top floors, pointed roof and shaded upstairs balconies. They live harmoniously, surrounded by the quietness of a town that was (and in my mind still is) the capital of Laos. People all amile at you as you go by, kids all wave and even say "hello", everyone is relaxed because really, why rush? Willing to please but never insistent, Lao peoples watch life go by and enjoy the quietness of their town of cycles, motorbike tuk tuks and the odd car. Warm, fragrant, lulling.....this is Luang Prabang.
And then, night falls, and the town comes to life with a food night market, with fresh Mekong river fish on the grill, satay pork, noodles galore, baguettes with all manner of fillings (a legacy of the French colonial times) and of course stalls and stalls of Lao Beer and freshly baked cakes. Then you happen upon the women who underneath their colourful parasols illuminated by a hanging lightbulb, sell you a world of fresh fruit; freshly cut papaya picked from the local trees, blood red watermelons, juice dripping pineapples, luscious mangoes, or the pernnial mound of Tamarinds found on every corner. The night market also brings the main road to a standstill.... it sets up on the road with stall after stall of old opium pipes, wooden carved hangers for your newly acquired silk woven fabric, women sewing under the dim light of a lightbulb the design of the bed cover displayed before you, young girls offering colourful Beer Lao t-shirts, and maybe even some local coffee bean or tea leaves to brew for breakfast. And just before midnight, we all tuck away in bed, after a well deserved cold shower and with the purr of the fan on our face. We dream and sleep until the early dawn of the next day, filled with more wandering and discovering parts of the river not explored, finding an old bookstore and sitting on their bamboo low stools to read through titles of your favourite or newly discovered authors, exchanging finished novels for new stories, or perusing the travel book section to find the hidden treasures yest to see. And then maybe, for sunset, consider climbing up to the Wat perched on the hill inside town as the ruby red sun sets over the waters of the mighty Mekong river, that has made it's journey all the way from the highlands of Tibet to this Gem of a place called Luang Prabang.
I sit tall above the sandy banks of the Mekong river while I eat Laab, my new favourite Asian food, and watch 5 young boys playing rope and falling in and out of the waters of the river. They don't know I am watching, peeking, getting a glimpse of their life and being transported back to my sleepy summers in Spain where life was slow, careless, the days were long and hot, the nights warm, the air fresh, the sound of crickets inundating the voices of the air...day and night. When the boys tire of their games and laughter, they walk up to a garden patch and steal some fruits before running off home. I sit, privy to this life, in the terrace by the riverbed, and I while away watching time go by with a cold lemongrass tea in hand. I have rented a bicycle and cycled through the small cobbled lanes, amidst trees dropping their fragrant flowers on the ground, hidden wats with golden columns, red brick roofs, white washed walls and that quiet air the monks breathe, with their saffron colored robes and their golden skins basted in the Lao sun. I see women washing the dishes in their plastic buckets on the floor, or preparing "nems" or fresh rolls in the shade of a tree overlooking the river. It is 3 in the afternoon, the sun comes down hard and the 38 degrees turn life into slow motion.
And then I stop and realise there is no noise around me....but the town is humming. The old colonial homes overlooking the dirt lanes stand tall; newly repainted, restored and looking proud, yet without pretension, over their neighbouring traditional Lao homes and guesthouses with their brick bottom and wooden top floors, pointed roof and shaded upstairs balconies. They live harmoniously, surrounded by the quietness of a town that was (and in my mind still is) the capital of Laos. People all amile at you as you go by, kids all wave and even say "hello", everyone is relaxed because really, why rush? Willing to please but never insistent, Lao peoples watch life go by and enjoy the quietness of their town of cycles, motorbike tuk tuks and the odd car. Warm, fragrant, lulling.....this is Luang Prabang.
And then, night falls, and the town comes to life with a food night market, with fresh Mekong river fish on the grill, satay pork, noodles galore, baguettes with all manner of fillings (a legacy of the French colonial times) and of course stalls and stalls of Lao Beer and freshly baked cakes. Then you happen upon the women who underneath their colourful parasols illuminated by a hanging lightbulb, sell you a world of fresh fruit; freshly cut papaya picked from the local trees, blood red watermelons, juice dripping pineapples, luscious mangoes, or the pernnial mound of Tamarinds found on every corner. The night market also brings the main road to a standstill.... it sets up on the road with stall after stall of old opium pipes, wooden carved hangers for your newly acquired silk woven fabric, women sewing under the dim light of a lightbulb the design of the bed cover displayed before you, young girls offering colourful Beer Lao t-shirts, and maybe even some local coffee bean or tea leaves to brew for breakfast. And just before midnight, we all tuck away in bed, after a well deserved cold shower and with the purr of the fan on our face. We dream and sleep until the early dawn of the next day, filled with more wandering and discovering parts of the river not explored, finding an old bookstore and sitting on their bamboo low stools to read through titles of your favourite or newly discovered authors, exchanging finished novels for new stories, or perusing the travel book section to find the hidden treasures yest to see. And then maybe, for sunset, consider climbing up to the Wat perched on the hill inside town as the ruby red sun sets over the waters of the mighty Mekong river, that has made it's journey all the way from the highlands of Tibet to this Gem of a place called Luang Prabang.
Monday, March 20, 2006
New-age Nun spotted cycling into an electric storm
I am in Van Vieng now, after a fairly horrid bus ride up. This was regional bus loaded full of potatoes, parsely, noodles, spring onions and what not on the back seats. Nope, surprisingly, they left the chickens behind. However, yes, it was one of those buses that looks like a steel boz, with the ladder crawling up onto the roof where everyone's bags lie in equilibrium, dodging each bump and attempting not to fall....there were bikes, rubbish bins, all manner of artefacts travelling on the roof. But back to the seating situation, all this food meant I couldn't sit properly. I have restless legs (well, actually, I am restless generally). So I end up putting my bare feet atop some pile of stuff covered in newspaper. Turns out, it was a pile of noodles (I mean why do these people carry the stuff half way up the country anyway?? i there's one thing that proliferates in SE Asia it's fresh food markets!) So I got a very evil look from the woman as she stepped off the bus, although she seemed to have forgotten she was literally toppling over me as she dozed away half way through the journey AND not one or two, but three of the back rows were overflowing with her shopping list. At this stage I couldn't care less, particularly because by now it was 3PM and I had not eaten since 8AM.....and I couldn't eat any of her stuff cause it was all ingredients...although the menu concoctions I was coming up with in my head get 1st prize for inventiveness. I admit, when I realised I was stepping on noodles, I actually tried to steal some of them and eat them, I was sooo hungry. But I feared getting caught by this Lao chick sitting next who didn't sem to ever fall asleep completely so my attempts at food thievery were sabotaged every time! Desperate times call for desperate measures. The one thing I actually really enjoyed was listening to some authentic and traditional Lao music playing off the speakers, and the fact that we arrived safely after 5 hours of sweltering, non A/C bus riding WITHOUT pit stops, unless you consider pulling over on the side of the dirt road for less than 7 minutes. I didn't fancy everyone seeing your bum while I peed so I kept it in. Anyway, I need to motivate to get on the next bus (which will this time be an A/C VIP affair) to Luang Prabang.
The reason for stopping in Vang Vieng, aside from breaking up the journey, was mostly to visit this Singaporian dude who tops up your iPod; 30 albums of your choice (well, from what he has already got) for 20 USD! Considering my Mac got stolen back home and I've grown quite tired of a lot of the crap I have, this is the best money spent on music....I'm getting a bunch of dance stuff too, which I am excted about. Anyway, aluuding t the title of this entry, I arrived here yesterday and at 8 PM was not just drenched, but quite literally swimming in my own clothes, after only walking 10 steps to my bike from this iPOD place. A MEGA electric storm come hurricane landed on our doorstep! I HAVE NEVER experienced anything like it in my life! I felt like some neighbour had decided to throw 10 buckets of water on me ALL AT ONCE and without warning, and then, for laughs, Put me behind a helicopter so I could get "wind". Needless to say, I was forced to seek refuge in the first restaurant I stumbled upon and strip naked for fear of catching pneumonia. I covered myself in 3 table cloths, each one tackier than the next. I swear, it was a sight to behold. I ended up striking conversation with a Frenchman who gladly supplied more tablecloths (in an attempt to catch a glimpse of my bra methinks). Just kidding; he was a real sweetie. After about an hour and a half, and many a lightining later, I ventured out into the subsiding rain, still in my restaurant wear and with my wet clothes hanging of the backseat fo the bike. The Frenchman had managed to also secure me what appeared to be a waterproof piece of cloth. He tied it around my neck so as t cover my head Nun-style. I looked quite dashing, flying away in the darkness of the dirt road, rain falling upon me, sinking into invisible puddle after puddle, lightning rods illuminating my way every few minutes like neon light.....I swear I figured if I collapsed or slid and showed the skies my bare, red brick mud-covered ass, well then maybe they'd get scared enough to stop all this fuss and leave us earthlings alone for a bit.
I returned safely to the comfort of a hot shower and a warm bungalow overlooking the river. Did I mention I am sharing it with an Israeli girl who approached me when I arrived? It was bizarre but she was kind of stranded and is in fact a very nice, sweet, honest girl. She's religious, only eats kosher food, and therefore travels with a butane gas burner and pots! Whatever! I felt kinda bad this morning as I wolfed down bacon and french bread in her presence. But DUDE, this morning yoga gets my tummy growling! More on my yoga retreat next time.
The reason for stopping in Vang Vieng, aside from breaking up the journey, was mostly to visit this Singaporian dude who tops up your iPod; 30 albums of your choice (well, from what he has already got) for 20 USD! Considering my Mac got stolen back home and I've grown quite tired of a lot of the crap I have, this is the best money spent on music....I'm getting a bunch of dance stuff too, which I am excted about. Anyway, aluuding t the title of this entry, I arrived here yesterday and at 8 PM was not just drenched, but quite literally swimming in my own clothes, after only walking 10 steps to my bike from this iPOD place. A MEGA electric storm come hurricane landed on our doorstep! I HAVE NEVER experienced anything like it in my life! I felt like some neighbour had decided to throw 10 buckets of water on me ALL AT ONCE and without warning, and then, for laughs, Put me behind a helicopter so I could get "wind". Needless to say, I was forced to seek refuge in the first restaurant I stumbled upon and strip naked for fear of catching pneumonia. I covered myself in 3 table cloths, each one tackier than the next. I swear, it was a sight to behold. I ended up striking conversation with a Frenchman who gladly supplied more tablecloths (in an attempt to catch a glimpse of my bra methinks). Just kidding; he was a real sweetie. After about an hour and a half, and many a lightining later, I ventured out into the subsiding rain, still in my restaurant wear and with my wet clothes hanging of the backseat fo the bike. The Frenchman had managed to also secure me what appeared to be a waterproof piece of cloth. He tied it around my neck so as t cover my head Nun-style. I looked quite dashing, flying away in the darkness of the dirt road, rain falling upon me, sinking into invisible puddle after puddle, lightning rods illuminating my way every few minutes like neon light.....I swear I figured if I collapsed or slid and showed the skies my bare, red brick mud-covered ass, well then maybe they'd get scared enough to stop all this fuss and leave us earthlings alone for a bit.
I returned safely to the comfort of a hot shower and a warm bungalow overlooking the river. Did I mention I am sharing it with an Israeli girl who approached me when I arrived? It was bizarre but she was kind of stranded and is in fact a very nice, sweet, honest girl. She's religious, only eats kosher food, and therefore travels with a butane gas burner and pots! Whatever! I felt kinda bad this morning as I wolfed down bacon and french bread in her presence. But DUDE, this morning yoga gets my tummy growling! More on my yoga retreat next time.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Fearless
When was the last time you did something new; something you thought you'd never, ever try? In fact something you had never even thought about?
Well for me it was riding on a moto-cross bike for 110Km on a red brick dusty gravel road out to Sihanoukville beach in Cambodia. Yes, Cambodia also has beaches! Chris and I used Kampot (from where some of the world's best black pepper comes from) as a base to move around the south of Cambodia and as it turns out, rented moto-cross bikes for touring. Now, let me describe this to you because it is not as straight forward as it may seem. I, for one, recently crashed an automatic scooter on a paved road in Chiang Mai....fairly easy riding conditions. Moto-cross bikes are those rough and ready things with the motor exposed, that measure a height nearly up to my shoulder and have all manner of very "manly" artefacts attached to them...like those colourful suspension tubes and such. They're usually noisy and full of dust or dried caking mud and have all kinds of switches, buttons and gears that one...well this one, believed she'd need a pilot's license to drive one.
So when we got to the bike shop and I realised what renting 250cc bikes really entailed, I sort of looked around and expecting the film Director to come out and say "CUT!". What on earth was I thinking when I agreed so fervently and enthusiastically to Chris on this?! Well, as it turned out, Chris got a spanking new bike (cause he's about 2M tall) that literally reached my boobs in height. And to my surprise, they had another "smaller" one pour moi! Well, well, it was standing in the middle of the shop looking like...wait! no! it WAS being seriously repaired. But alas no, they rented it out to me without hesitation. There was only one back blinker...and it was hanging off. When I pointed it out in my routine check (what check? I didn't even know what the hell I was checking for here....as if!) they nodded, smiled and said no problem. Then I figured they'd prevent me from renting the minute they realised I didn't even know how to start the damned thing. But alas, no again, they encouragingly gave me the 2 minute Cambodian crash course, confident in my ability to master the art in no time. May I kindly remind you that I have only ever ridden a gear shift bike once before; on Samui island 6 weeks ago, and the gears were straightforward and on the foot...it was a scooter after all. Chris intervened and made me feel better by telling me how easy it was, similar to the gear scooters but with a couple of differences and a bit like riding a gear shift car. I'm European. I drive gear shift back home. How hard could it be huh? So there's a clutch (which for all those of you non-riders like me, is what we would normally relate to as the left hand brake on the handlebar). Anyway, this thing starts in neutral, which is some random position between 1st and second gear on the foot... yeah, NOT like a gear shift car! There's supposed to be a light that shines on the display panel...but my bike's panel was pretty much inexistent so after about 3 dozen stalls, I managed to get the hang of getting started, putting it into 1st and riding off like Lucky Luke.
Well, after some hesitation, I got a surge of adrenaline (and quite some testosterone that appeared out of nowhere) and I was off, with my super cool helmet, my moto-cross bike and ready to face anything, cause I am a cool chick, and I try new stuff and life is all about this, isn't it?! Well, first off, I somehow spaced out about what 100Km really means. After riding for so many Km's on rickety roads and minibuses, it seemed like something quite achievable. Only when almost an hour had gone by on that red brick dusty gravel road, and we stopped to catch our breath and I realised we'd only done about 30Km, did I realise 100Km is about 30% further than our old country house, Aldeallana, from where I lived in Madrid.....and it takes almost and hour doing a good speed on a paved highway! Well lesson learnt, late for lamentations, and with a shakiness on my hands and arms that I thought would launch me into a seizure (if not that, the heat of the day cause by now it was 2 PM and about 40 degrees), we continued on down. There I am riding into the Cambodian skyline, fearless, in 4th gear, thinking I am the coolest thing ever, when all of a sudden the bike's humm dwindles down to a wheez and stops. I pull over and think, "well, let's see how long it takes Chris to look back and see I'm not with him". I manage, somehow, to get it started again and continue on, but about 15 Km further on, it does it again. At this stage I start getting peeved off and realised the bike shop has taken advantage of my novice condition. I've been given a bike that needs repair and who knows if I'll ever make it to the beach. It's now 3PM, I am sweltering, exhausted, the coolness of the event is turning into hot headedness and my bowels are beginning to complain...Did I mention Chris and I got food poisoning and had spent the best part of the last 48 hours preaching to the porcelain god or else shitting our brains out on it? Well, thankfully, sharing all these intimacies together, we also seemed to appreciate the joint pit stops and attempts at signing our way to the nearest hole in the floor to pay our respects. The best one was the motor garage where, thinking back, I should've gotten a full bike check up.
Anyway, after stopping in it's tracks one last time, we finally approached Sihanoukville coast. Oh bless, the cool breeze seemed to penetrate my helmet somehow and I began dreaming of stripping my clothes off like Sophia Loren and plunging into the water, triumphant music playing, cocktail awaiting on my return......... when clack clack clack clack clack....the bike stops and I sense something is REALLY WRONG with it now...like, the f***ing chain has come off!!!!!!! It is now 4 PM, I am STILL sweltering but the sun will not be out much longer and my dream image of the water is dissipating into a nightmare afternoon of trying to sort out this bike with the garage, or more importantly, figuring out how I'll get back home (and may I remind you that these events are all accompanied, in silence, but very presently, by intense bouts of diaohrrea!)
So, sensing my desperation and near faintedness, or maybe seeing me collapse on a shaded bench on the roadside hardly able to speak (or bark, as it was at this stage)Chris takes over. He calls the garage, arranges to meet them at the bike's spot of demise in 2 hours, and sorts everything out. It's 5 PM by the time we get to the beach, and my dream is realised with a beautiful sunset, a banana coconut iced shake and, bless my luck, a Cambodian masseuse offering to give me a good old rub-down while I recover from this gamble.
Chris and I ended up returning at 10PM on his bike....I thought I would get killed, if not by the random cows venturing out into the pitch-black roads, then by the road trucks without tail lights lining the return path to Kampot. Or was it that I was sitting on the back of a moto-cross bike (again for those of you non riders like me, moto cross bikes are for 1 person only - the back is a collection of metal bars that look like a grill and that I have yet to figure out what they-re for, cause they certainly arent's a roasting board for my ass!). And to end this story, I will confess that as we rode back in the night, and I observed how Chris used his clutch (oh yeah...THAT thing he spoke about at first), I realise I haven't been clutching at all when changing gears! Oh Dear!
Well for me it was riding on a moto-cross bike for 110Km on a red brick dusty gravel road out to Sihanoukville beach in Cambodia. Yes, Cambodia also has beaches! Chris and I used Kampot (from where some of the world's best black pepper comes from) as a base to move around the south of Cambodia and as it turns out, rented moto-cross bikes for touring. Now, let me describe this to you because it is not as straight forward as it may seem. I, for one, recently crashed an automatic scooter on a paved road in Chiang Mai....fairly easy riding conditions. Moto-cross bikes are those rough and ready things with the motor exposed, that measure a height nearly up to my shoulder and have all manner of very "manly" artefacts attached to them...like those colourful suspension tubes and such. They're usually noisy and full of dust or dried caking mud and have all kinds of switches, buttons and gears that one...well this one, believed she'd need a pilot's license to drive one.
So when we got to the bike shop and I realised what renting 250cc bikes really entailed, I sort of looked around and expecting the film Director to come out and say "CUT!". What on earth was I thinking when I agreed so fervently and enthusiastically to Chris on this?! Well, as it turned out, Chris got a spanking new bike (cause he's about 2M tall) that literally reached my boobs in height. And to my surprise, they had another "smaller" one pour moi! Well, well, it was standing in the middle of the shop looking like...wait! no! it WAS being seriously repaired. But alas no, they rented it out to me without hesitation. There was only one back blinker...and it was hanging off. When I pointed it out in my routine check (what check? I didn't even know what the hell I was checking for here....as if!) they nodded, smiled and said no problem. Then I figured they'd prevent me from renting the minute they realised I didn't even know how to start the damned thing. But alas, no again, they encouragingly gave me the 2 minute Cambodian crash course, confident in my ability to master the art in no time. May I kindly remind you that I have only ever ridden a gear shift bike once before; on Samui island 6 weeks ago, and the gears were straightforward and on the foot...it was a scooter after all. Chris intervened and made me feel better by telling me how easy it was, similar to the gear scooters but with a couple of differences and a bit like riding a gear shift car. I'm European. I drive gear shift back home. How hard could it be huh? So there's a clutch (which for all those of you non-riders like me, is what we would normally relate to as the left hand brake on the handlebar). Anyway, this thing starts in neutral, which is some random position between 1st and second gear on the foot... yeah, NOT like a gear shift car! There's supposed to be a light that shines on the display panel...but my bike's panel was pretty much inexistent so after about 3 dozen stalls, I managed to get the hang of getting started, putting it into 1st and riding off like Lucky Luke.
Well, after some hesitation, I got a surge of adrenaline (and quite some testosterone that appeared out of nowhere) and I was off, with my super cool helmet, my moto-cross bike and ready to face anything, cause I am a cool chick, and I try new stuff and life is all about this, isn't it?! Well, first off, I somehow spaced out about what 100Km really means. After riding for so many Km's on rickety roads and minibuses, it seemed like something quite achievable. Only when almost an hour had gone by on that red brick dusty gravel road, and we stopped to catch our breath and I realised we'd only done about 30Km, did I realise 100Km is about 30% further than our old country house, Aldeallana, from where I lived in Madrid.....and it takes almost and hour doing a good speed on a paved highway! Well lesson learnt, late for lamentations, and with a shakiness on my hands and arms that I thought would launch me into a seizure (if not that, the heat of the day cause by now it was 2 PM and about 40 degrees), we continued on down. There I am riding into the Cambodian skyline, fearless, in 4th gear, thinking I am the coolest thing ever, when all of a sudden the bike's humm dwindles down to a wheez and stops. I pull over and think, "well, let's see how long it takes Chris to look back and see I'm not with him". I manage, somehow, to get it started again and continue on, but about 15 Km further on, it does it again. At this stage I start getting peeved off and realised the bike shop has taken advantage of my novice condition. I've been given a bike that needs repair and who knows if I'll ever make it to the beach. It's now 3PM, I am sweltering, exhausted, the coolness of the event is turning into hot headedness and my bowels are beginning to complain...Did I mention Chris and I got food poisoning and had spent the best part of the last 48 hours preaching to the porcelain god or else shitting our brains out on it? Well, thankfully, sharing all these intimacies together, we also seemed to appreciate the joint pit stops and attempts at signing our way to the nearest hole in the floor to pay our respects. The best one was the motor garage where, thinking back, I should've gotten a full bike check up.
Anyway, after stopping in it's tracks one last time, we finally approached Sihanoukville coast. Oh bless, the cool breeze seemed to penetrate my helmet somehow and I began dreaming of stripping my clothes off like Sophia Loren and plunging into the water, triumphant music playing, cocktail awaiting on my return......... when clack clack clack clack clack....the bike stops and I sense something is REALLY WRONG with it now...like, the f***ing chain has come off!!!!!!! It is now 4 PM, I am STILL sweltering but the sun will not be out much longer and my dream image of the water is dissipating into a nightmare afternoon of trying to sort out this bike with the garage, or more importantly, figuring out how I'll get back home (and may I remind you that these events are all accompanied, in silence, but very presently, by intense bouts of diaohrrea!)
So, sensing my desperation and near faintedness, or maybe seeing me collapse on a shaded bench on the roadside hardly able to speak (or bark, as it was at this stage)Chris takes over. He calls the garage, arranges to meet them at the bike's spot of demise in 2 hours, and sorts everything out. It's 5 PM by the time we get to the beach, and my dream is realised with a beautiful sunset, a banana coconut iced shake and, bless my luck, a Cambodian masseuse offering to give me a good old rub-down while I recover from this gamble.
Chris and I ended up returning at 10PM on his bike....I thought I would get killed, if not by the random cows venturing out into the pitch-black roads, then by the road trucks without tail lights lining the return path to Kampot. Or was it that I was sitting on the back of a moto-cross bike (again for those of you non riders like me, moto cross bikes are for 1 person only - the back is a collection of metal bars that look like a grill and that I have yet to figure out what they-re for, cause they certainly arent's a roasting board for my ass!). And to end this story, I will confess that as we rode back in the night, and I observed how Chris used his clutch (oh yeah...THAT thing he spoke about at first), I realise I haven't been clutching at all when changing gears! Oh Dear!
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Ta Prohm, Ban Ti Srey, and Bayon....
I enjoyed 3 other temples far more than Angkor. Firstly, Ta Prohm. I did not realise until a few days before leaving Chiang Mai that it had been featured in one of the last scenes of Tomb Raider! So, if you want to check out the look and feel of the place without coming all the way over, rent the movie and skip to the last scenes! The overgrown tree roots over the brick ruins of this far out place are eerie. In fact, the day we visited we were almost alone and taking off independently, my amusement grew into some kind of strange feeling of solitude, creepiness and loss. I had to find my way back searching for the sunset! Ban Ta Sraey, 37km north of Siem Riep, was one of my favourite temples. It is exquisite; small, approachable and with a marvel of intricate and well preserved bas reliefs! The red brick colour of the stone is quite different to the generally greyish green ageing stone of the other temples. Lastly, of course, Bayon.....the temple of the many faces! Spot them in the pictures! Again, awe inspiring structures where I wonder how on earth they could lift these stones and create such images without modern tools. The beauty of it all is that they are still so well preserved that many locals continue to use them for prayer. So at Bayon, I lit some incense and prayed for everyone I know.
Angkor Wat
Did you know that Cambodia is 1.5x the size of England? Well that's what the Rough Guide says anyway. It turns out that 1/3rd of the population was wiped out under Khmer Rouge rule between the 70's and 80's and especially during the Killing Fields genocides.
Well, I know I promised to write about Angkor Wat so here it goes. Angkor Wat is actually the name of only one of the many religious temples that make up the complex, albeit the one that appears in most books and ...most people know the whole thing as Angkor Wat but there are tens and tens of temples built between 800's and 1200's during the glorious Angkor era. This, my friends, is indeed one of the Marvels of the World....much like the Egyptian Pyramids of Egypt, the Indian Taj Mahal, or the Aztec and Mayan ruins in America. When I came up close to see the sheer magnitude of size and intricate carvings that these temples boast hundreds of years later and understanding they were built with sweat and blood (and no cranes or cement) I am baffled! They say Angkor Wat itself took over 30 years to build. The interesting thing about all these temples is the Indian influence in the design, architecture, carvings/bas reliefs and overall feel. At this time there was a lot of trade and exchange with India. Angkor is a tribute to Shiva and is surrounded by a massive moat. More than once I managed to loose Chris inside the temple itself, to which we had to return on the 4th day because it is so big! What impressed me most at Angkor were the steep steps that led up to the main temple which believe you me, were no easy task to accomplish. I for one kept removing my flip flops just to ensure that like a monkey, I had a good grip on the rocky surface and could climb up the uneven set of more than 30 steps to the top. The views over the city and the forest are breathtaking.
Friday, March 10, 2006
Returning
Returning.....chapters end and new beginnings await. Cambodia has been like a book I randomly pick up and read through sleepless nights until I sadly turn the last page; re-reading the last line, frantically looking for more text somewhere in the last blank pages....hoping and wondering why the book has ended so fast; longing to go back in time and read it even more calmly, savouring every line, every paragraph...every moment; surprised at how much I have enjoyed a book I had been putting off for some time; putting it down calmly, with joy and satisfaction at having experienced it, reminded of the tears and the laughter it has brought to me. Cambodia has been this book.
When I first set out on my trip, my brother Luis and my friend Kevin said "don't miss Angkor Wat", and I wondered..... Angkor "what"? Angkor Wat, I found out, is only one of the many sublime temples in the Angkor complex in Cambodia, and one of the well deserved wonders of the world. I dabbled with dates and plans to go there, since Angkor is not too far from Bangkok, but it was never the right time. And then the 25th of February rolled along. I had heard stories, good and bad, about travels in Cambodia and secretly hoped to travel accompanied, ideally by a man, who would look out for me. And so along came Chris, a fire-fighting pilot from Canada on holiday in Asia for a month. He came to Chiang Mai to learn thai massage and was ending his Asian travels with a 10 day trip to Cambodia. We met at Walai House, and after my friend Gai and I tore the poor guy apart with sarcasm for hours on end, we realised that not only could he take our sense of humour (and see right through it), but that he was actually a genuinely nice guy, despite the tough exterior. Chris and I would soon embark on a 10 day intense journey through the dust filled flatlands of Cambodia, with the rising heat from the ground, and the recent violent history of this beautiful country still tangible in the air.
You know I like to pick events and delve into them a bit, instead of giving you a long list of where we went and what we saw. Cambodia, however, may take more than one entry to do it justice. It is there that I learned that while I was wiling away learning the periodic table in high school or even graduating from University, young kids under 12 were still fighting to survive, forced to plant landmines, or trying to escape the horrors of Pol Pot's genocides. It is here that I have seen for the first time, tens of people, mostly teenagers, maimed.....maimed for being kids running in rice fields, only to find a plastic round container they thought was a toy, that ended up blasting in their face, their arm or their leg. I realise that the chills this reality brings before me is what drives me to travel. There's nothing like travel to teach me history...or spark curiosity in a country I never knew anything about.
Land mines - remember Princess Diana's Halo Trust? It fights against land mines around the world. It all starts to make sense when I get to Cambodia and walk into Aki Ra's War of the War museum; an open air wooden shelter in the fields outside Siem Riep, filled with de-activated shells of landmines, hand grenades, and other horrific inventions of war created to maim and kill. The walls are complete with statistics about the millions of landmines still active in Cambodia, the countries who still manufacture these artefacts, the countries who's incidence of maiming from landmines is highest. Cambodia is in the top 5. Aki Ra's story is quite unique to me. A Cambodian kid who's parents are killed by the Khmer Rouge and who is then forcibly enlisted to fight for them....only a kid. A few years later, in an ambush, the Vietnamese take him hostage and make him fight on their side...against the same people he fought with before. All this time, he is also forced to lay landmines in the fields of Cambodia. Years later, when the conflict finally ends in the late 80's, Aki Ra begins to realise the amount of kids who die or are rushed to hospital every hour of every day in Cambodia for having stepped on a landmine. He sets up a centre to help support these kids with schooling in English, a home and shelter and a job, and turns to the fields with a team of locals, every day since, to de-activate the same land mines he was forced to plant as a child. Aki Ra is not much older than I am.
And so Chris and I meet Aki Ra in person that day, while he is filming for a documentary...and ask him about his work and how we can help. His English comes in spurts...but his look of gratitude is evident. We can join hime anytime...but maybe Halo can give us some training first. Chris and I eventually cycle out 16Km on a rickety bike without gears, with the heat pounding on our heads and only a respite of shade from the occasional palm tree lined country lane, all the way out to The Halo Trust to find out about their work and whether with proper training, we could volunteer to help. It's a hot Saturday afternoon and work is over for the week. We get the Director's business card with a warm smile of encouragement. When you ride through the brick red dust of the countryside, watching the stick thin cows feeding in the dry fields, hearing children laugh as they bathe in dirty brown waters, taking snapshots of young teenagers fishing for whatever they may find in the roadside pond of water lillies, you understand that these people can make a living if you can offer the help to clear their land and make it safe.
There are many children in Cambodia...nothing like the one-child natality controls of China....because here the Killing Fields and the Khmer Rouge regime wiped out one third of the population less than 30 years ago. Yes....there are many other stories to tell....some sad and hopeful like this one, some to do with "happy" (ganga) pizza. That'll be the next one, and maybe I'll throw in a bit about the temples of Angkor!
When I first set out on my trip, my brother Luis and my friend Kevin said "don't miss Angkor Wat", and I wondered..... Angkor "what"? Angkor Wat, I found out, is only one of the many sublime temples in the Angkor complex in Cambodia, and one of the well deserved wonders of the world. I dabbled with dates and plans to go there, since Angkor is not too far from Bangkok, but it was never the right time. And then the 25th of February rolled along. I had heard stories, good and bad, about travels in Cambodia and secretly hoped to travel accompanied, ideally by a man, who would look out for me. And so along came Chris, a fire-fighting pilot from Canada on holiday in Asia for a month. He came to Chiang Mai to learn thai massage and was ending his Asian travels with a 10 day trip to Cambodia. We met at Walai House, and after my friend Gai and I tore the poor guy apart with sarcasm for hours on end, we realised that not only could he take our sense of humour (and see right through it), but that he was actually a genuinely nice guy, despite the tough exterior. Chris and I would soon embark on a 10 day intense journey through the dust filled flatlands of Cambodia, with the rising heat from the ground, and the recent violent history of this beautiful country still tangible in the air.
You know I like to pick events and delve into them a bit, instead of giving you a long list of where we went and what we saw. Cambodia, however, may take more than one entry to do it justice. It is there that I learned that while I was wiling away learning the periodic table in high school or even graduating from University, young kids under 12 were still fighting to survive, forced to plant landmines, or trying to escape the horrors of Pol Pot's genocides. It is here that I have seen for the first time, tens of people, mostly teenagers, maimed.....maimed for being kids running in rice fields, only to find a plastic round container they thought was a toy, that ended up blasting in their face, their arm or their leg. I realise that the chills this reality brings before me is what drives me to travel. There's nothing like travel to teach me history...or spark curiosity in a country I never knew anything about.
Land mines - remember Princess Diana's Halo Trust? It fights against land mines around the world. It all starts to make sense when I get to Cambodia and walk into Aki Ra's War of the War museum; an open air wooden shelter in the fields outside Siem Riep, filled with de-activated shells of landmines, hand grenades, and other horrific inventions of war created to maim and kill. The walls are complete with statistics about the millions of landmines still active in Cambodia, the countries who still manufacture these artefacts, the countries who's incidence of maiming from landmines is highest. Cambodia is in the top 5. Aki Ra's story is quite unique to me. A Cambodian kid who's parents are killed by the Khmer Rouge and who is then forcibly enlisted to fight for them....only a kid. A few years later, in an ambush, the Vietnamese take him hostage and make him fight on their side...against the same people he fought with before. All this time, he is also forced to lay landmines in the fields of Cambodia. Years later, when the conflict finally ends in the late 80's, Aki Ra begins to realise the amount of kids who die or are rushed to hospital every hour of every day in Cambodia for having stepped on a landmine. He sets up a centre to help support these kids with schooling in English, a home and shelter and a job, and turns to the fields with a team of locals, every day since, to de-activate the same land mines he was forced to plant as a child. Aki Ra is not much older than I am.
And so Chris and I meet Aki Ra in person that day, while he is filming for a documentary...and ask him about his work and how we can help. His English comes in spurts...but his look of gratitude is evident. We can join hime anytime...but maybe Halo can give us some training first. Chris and I eventually cycle out 16Km on a rickety bike without gears, with the heat pounding on our heads and only a respite of shade from the occasional palm tree lined country lane, all the way out to The Halo Trust to find out about their work and whether with proper training, we could volunteer to help. It's a hot Saturday afternoon and work is over for the week. We get the Director's business card with a warm smile of encouragement. When you ride through the brick red dust of the countryside, watching the stick thin cows feeding in the dry fields, hearing children laugh as they bathe in dirty brown waters, taking snapshots of young teenagers fishing for whatever they may find in the roadside pond of water lillies, you understand that these people can make a living if you can offer the help to clear their land and make it safe.
There are many children in Cambodia...nothing like the one-child natality controls of China....because here the Killing Fields and the Khmer Rouge regime wiped out one third of the population less than 30 years ago. Yes....there are many other stories to tell....some sad and hopeful like this one, some to do with "happy" (ganga) pizza. That'll be the next one, and maybe I'll throw in a bit about the temples of Angkor!
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
OK from Cambodia
I am OK, thanks. I promise to write about my 10 day trip to Cambodia and Angkor Wat within the next 72 hours. It'll be a long one with lots of pictures!!! Love you all and keep writing!
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