Vientianne to Angkor
Okies, trousers have just fallen down in interent café…. Slightly humiliating…. (alright slight exaggeration I grant but still). Well where am I indeed? Cambodia – its been a week here (about, I lose track) and still not dead/mugged etc, so things looking good. Left Vientianne after about a day, a fairly uninspiring city, although to be fair I didn’t give it much of a chance. Caught an early morning local bus to Pakse in southern loas, a journey that reaches new and indescribable heights of discomfort – definitely one for the ‘Masochists Guide to Laos 2004’. Still suffering serious coccyx injuries from the trip south from Luang Prabang, spending 16 hours on another solid seat fastened (loosely) to broken suspension maybe was asking for trouble. Spirits where pretty low after 9 hours, but the first sunset we’ve seen in about a month (due to monsoon) came as good portent and lifted them. Reaching Pakse at 1 am checked into hostel, slept and left first thing in the morn – so much for pakse.Our target was a ruined Khmer city at Champansak. Piled into the back of a minivan bus, surrounded by locals and half a market full of fresh(ish) produce. Pineapples below, long beans in face and legs by chin we proceeded. Once at hostel we hired bikes and set off for the city….. You’d think I’d be pretty safe with a pushbike, no engine to break, no problem…. Nope. After about 11 km my tire exploded. After some communication with locals, ie me pointing at flat tire and looking generally unhappy, them grinning and pointing, I trudged back up the road to find a repair man. I walked… and walked… everytime I was sure I must have gone too far (was told 100m… hahaha, distance like time is a meaningless concept in loas) a helpful local pointed further up the road. Some old rubber, glue and an upside down iron restored my bike, off to the city!The ruined temple is a complex around a mile long and half a mile wide built at the foot of, and then in a series of terraces, up the side of, a mountain. Ancient stone steps, worn from a millennia of foot steps, led steeply between tangled over hanging trees to a Wat with a commanding view over the Mekong valley and its rice paddies. Not being too heavily polluted with tourists the place still had quite a mystical feel, at the time it was undoubtedly the best temples we had visited.The next day we caught a locals boat down the river from Champansak to Don Khong in Si Phan Don (4000 islands). The boat, a long teak affair, low tin roofed and carpeted with bamboo mats, serviced numerous small villages scattered along the rivers bank, bringing people and supplies. About 4 hours and several thunder storms later we arrived in a downpour. Slip sliding along, over laden with packs and unsteady in flip flops a lorry ride took us across the rural island through its farming communities to the main village, where we caught a further (smaller, less stable) boat to Don Det – a more remote and beautiful island. No breakdown with this boat, just a stop after about half an hour to bail it out as it was sinking…..Don Det, although fairly firmly established on the backpackers circuit isn’t too crowded, in fact there doesn’t seem to be many tourists there, although this is probably as it is the low season given the number of guest houses. After some fairly hectic weeks it was time to kick back and relax for a few days. We spent 4 days largely immobile in hammocks, surveying the Mekong, reading and being waited on by the family that run the place (Mama, the crazy hostess, possesses little English but many black toothed grins). The pace of life on the island is slow to non existent, some locals fish on the river banks, while others tend to the rice and water buffalo. Palm trees sprout amid the paddies and wooden stilt houses whilst time stands still, merely an observer.Onto Cambodia, through the unofficial official border. It used to be unofficial but you could use it providing you provide the unofficial officials with an offering. Now the border is official, but the previously unofficial officials got so used to growing fat on offerings that they now demand them unofficially even in their new official capacity. So in English 2$ (if you are lucky, ie twice the size of the intimidated official in question) per person each side bribe, and you’re through. 2 speed boat rides later, many dollars lighter and a minor case of tinnitus and you’re in Kratie. A small dusty town on the Mekong. Crumbling colonial buildings press up against a scrum of stilt houses webbed with low flying power cables. The home of the Mekong river dolphins, we took our very first (of many) moto rides along a 15km ‘road’ to the spot where they hang out. Taking a boat out, took about an hour to find them and grab some photos, although given the muddy state of the river we were unable to view them in their full glory….Once back from the dolphins, (it was a 6 o’clock start) had a couple of minutes to pick up our bags and board the boat to Kampon Chang, where we could get a connecting mini bus to Phnom Penh. Our last boat trip down the Mekong down which we have traveled many miles (Johannes’ official estimate being 800 km in total) felt a touch nostalgic. We sat on the roof and watched the villages drift past, the fisherman and kids playing, our view only being temporarily disrupted by a shower causing us to pull a large tarpaulin over us.The minibus ride down to the capital was anything but relaxing; a crushed and crazed dash on every side of the road, death never further than an inch away. For a few minutes the drivers were playing tag with another bus in a sequence disturbingly reminiscent of the film ‘Duel’ (you know the spielburg one with a car and the big truck). One of the locals tried to communicate in words and gestures what this was all about to me, which I translated as, they (the other bus) want us to pull over so they can rob us. Don’t think this was the case though as once we ‘got away’ the drivers played the same game with another van, so I guess it was some kind of Cambodian joke that foreigners don’t get.They say that human life is cheap in Cambodia and they were right, recklessness is the norm. Its quite refreshing in a way to have to take responsibility for your life every minute of the day, however the laws of statistics being what they are its probably not to great in the long run. Phnom Penh is the personification of this reckless abandon. Nowhere is this as chillingly portrayed as at S21 a school that was transformed into a school/interrogation centre in the days of the Khmer Rouge. In its abandoned classrooms, metal beds on which the victims were tortured, stand in rooms bare except for the photos on the walls depicting the harrowing scene that greeted those that ‘discovered’ this place. Other rooms are filled with mug shots of the detainees taken when they were admitted and paintings graphically recreate the more gruesome events, seen through the eyes of one of the few survivors – an artist.Phnom Penh is undoubtedly an exciting city, sitting on the back of a motorbike, carving your way through the streets confirms this. Just one block away from the immaculate riverside restaurants and silver roofed palace, streets are of dirt and dust, shanties hide in the shadow of concrete monoliths. This is a city of transition and flux.On our first night in town it was time sample its famous nightlife. The marathon evening began in the guesthouse where we joined up with a few others for a few G&Ts whilst the sunset over the lake our guest house sits on. At about 1am we ventured out, riding motos in convoy through the streets, will pulled up outside the infamous ‘Heart of Darkness’. The Lonely planet will lead you to believe this is the most ‘wild west’ club in all Phnom Penh and advises you to ‘get out of the way’ of anyone who looks mean (to avoid getting shot). In reality of course, the prospect of getting shot is something few travelers can resists, so you are in more danger of a stiletto heel through your foot on the dance floor than one in your gut. Not that I’m claiming this isn’t the den of iniquity its made out to be, being full of rich westerners and Khmer its replete with the SE Asian retinue of the rich – prostitutes and lots of them. Having every part of you squeezed and pinched 50% of the time is a little disconcerting, especially when 75% of the time its by a man.After Phnom Penh we head to the beach at Sihanoukville, which was a bit rubbish, so we left after one evening and traveled up to Kampot, from which we explore the Bokor hill station – a resort for the rich and famous, perched at 1000m that was abandoned in the early 60s. At the top of a 40km road that has largely been washed away (as has not been repaired in the early 60’s) this ghost town resides, swathed in the mists of clouds and time. Walking through its casino with its ballrooms and balconies you can imagine the scene of colonial decadence.I write now from Siem Reap, just outside the temples of Angkor Wat. We spent yesterday exploring from dawn til dusk just some of the hundreds of temples that lie in the jungle here. Its impossible to describe these monuments in anyway that will do them justice, but lets just say whilst exploring ‘jungle temple’ (slightly easier than the local pronounciation) its tumble down blocks and columns being slowly consumed by the forest I had the irresistible urge to whistle ‘da da-da daaaaaaa, da da daaaaaaa, da da-da daaaaaaa, da da-da da da’. Ok clearly my inspiration is starting to flag, so that’s gonna have to be all for now. Tomorrow we are heading back to Phnom Penh and onto Vietnam! PS Don’t worry Mum, its really not that dangerous – artist’s license you know!
posted by justplainnigel @ 2:20 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home