Moto Madness and Monster Prawns: Welcome to Cambodia

Here we go! Today has been a wonderfully productive day in the quiet, if not lazy, river town of Kampot, Cambodia...let's see if I can bring you, the reader, up-to-speed on my latest adventures.

I last gave you an epic entry only because I had had an epic experience through southern Lao. My last three weeks will be easier to describe, though they were no less eventful.

When I finally pulled myself away from Si Phon Don (not much choice, the visa ran out that day) I felt ready to go. It's a good feeling to enjoy a location to the fullest extent and actually long for the next adventure. Don Det had been a great place for me and I'd met many wonderful people, even reunited with several travelers from my preceding path.

Buying my ticket to Kratie, Cambodia for no reason other than to avoid jumping straight into the wild wild capital of Phnom Phen, I knew practically nothing about the country I was about to enter. I had been warned, however, of the border crossing. I was told by several travelers and the Lonely Planet alike that border guards notoriously fleece travelers out of extra cash whenever they can. I had purchased my visa in Vientiane and asked if there would be a charge at the border. The answer was no, and I was determined to enter without paying corrupt surcharges. As I psyched myself up for battle, I was completely blindsided by an EXIT charge from the Lao border guards. Crushed after such a positive experience in their country I muttered a few veiled obscenities and threw them a wadded up dollar bill, yanking back my passport. I quickly rebuilt my bravado for the showdown with the Cambodian corruption patrol. Learning the Khmer term for "hello" on the 200 meter walk from the Lao border station to that of Cambodia, I greeted the guards with a smile, "sua s'dai," and all necessary papers. A stampity-stamp later I was asked for a dollar. I said in very clear, slow, and stern English, "No, your embassy said I would not pay at entry," and walked to the side window of the booth, allowing the line behind me to proceed. It took only a cold, determined stare for the two men to realize that a fight with me was not worth a dollar. I walked into Cambodia with my stamped passport and a smile.

At the van's first stop inside Cambodia, I was practicing my Khmer when I heard a familiar and very unexpected voice behind me say, "Welcome to Cambodia!" Lisa, a Swiss woman I'd met on Don Det a few days earlier, had made the same stop in her van to Phnom Phen. She suggested that I meet her there, as she knew the city well but hadn't yet completed the tourist circuit and would be happy to share my company. So I decided to go to to Phnom Phen that night. Such is the nature of my travel.

Another van stop was, unsurprisingly at a cousin's establishment tied to someone in the transporation service...that's just how it's done here. I got to know two wonderfully kind Korean female monks and a few of my other vanmates and by the time we reached Kratie, I'd come to like them all. I passed around a bag of oranges I'd purchased at the Kratie market along with an OSU-themed orange and black krama (a checkered scarf--typically red and white--worn and used universally throughout Cambodia). Within a few more hours of travel, we boys on the van were cheersing with Cambodian Anchor beers and the rest of the ride to Phnom Phen was fun.

Phnom Phen: An Urban Wilderness

What a beserk city, Phnom Phen! Against all recommendations and probably common sense, I rented a motobike with Lisa and spent the days touring the city and its sites, running errands, and eating Western food. I tried to give blood at one of the blood banks but they turned me away on account of my previous donation in Luang Prabang. Ridiculous! Can someone explain to me why the Red Cross in the U.S. lets me donate every 52 days and Cambodia insists on a waiting period of 120 days? Oh, and apparently my O-negative blood, which causes a commotion of demand in the states, is not a hot item here in Cambodia. Eh well, I'll still let it drain.

I would be a fool and an irresponsible global citizen to visit Phnom Phen and not take time to reflect on the atrocities of the Khmer Rouge. So, in opposite order, I visited the S-21 prison at Tuol Sleng and the Killing Fields. Taken independently, the two sites jar one's nerves and unsettle one's soul. Taken together, these locations--so recently the stage for the unthinkable acts of Pol Pot's regime--are a gut-wrenching and sobering reminder of the evil to which humankind can inexplicably succumb. Not every day on holiday is a happy day.

However, while such dark lessons should not be lost, they are best absorbed quickly lest the light of the present be missed. So I took to my moto and kept up my thorough exploration of the sprawling, screaming, stifling city of Phnom Phen. I fixed my new camera (which had seized up on Don Det) for $25 and started snapping photos again. I also got into a minor wreck on my moto...I paid the guy $24 for a bent license plate and he drove off...I still feel awful and have no idea whether or not he was injured. I also got flagged down by the police for an "illegal" left turn...though everybody else was doing it! They tried to slap me with a $5 fine but I bantered with the little Khmer I'd picked up, smiled a lot, ran an errand while they watched my bike (ha!) and asked politely for a receipt. I happily paid the Cambodian equivalent of $0.50 for ten minutes of enjoyable banter.

Also noteworthy of my stay in Phnom Phen: A leisurely stroll through the opulent grounds of the Royal Palace, eating snails along the Tonle Sap river while witnessing the onslaught on a massive thunderstorm, purchasing a new, functional compass from the Russian Market, eating really good food and drinking really good coffee, and stumbling across the biggest nightclub party of the month for expats and NGO workers at the aptly-named Elsewhere Bar.

Thailand Reunion: South to the Shores of Sihanoukville.

Good fortune alone reunited me with the Alaskan fisherman and Pacific Northwest native, Dwight Barton. I had made travel arrangements to meet him in Siem Reap but caught an email from him 15 minutes before my departure saying he was already en route to Phnom Phen. When we met at my guesthouse he said he was chomping at the bit to get to the beaches, as he'd had too much of big cities in recent weeks. So, on the turn of a few minutes, I packed my life into my backpack and we were crammed into a crowded van headed south for $10 each. Arriving in Sihanoukville with time left to hit the bars, we were giddy with anticipation for the days to come. Two of Dwight's traveling companions, Jarno of Finland and Ryan of Hawaii, were due in soon. I'd met both of them, along with Dwight, on Ko Tao, Thailand back in early February. The boys were back in town...

Then...also as good fortune would have it...Dwight and I rounded a corner to a row of guesthouse rooms to find the delightful Miss Vicki Cunningham enjoying a mellow night with a few of her travel friends. If ever there was a time when crossed paths felt significant, that was it! This is the same Vicki I'd met, and spent considerable time with, on Ko Pha Ngan and again in northern Lao. Well, we teamed back up and enjoyed a full 10 days in Sihanoukville together.

Sihanoukville can easily be described as the land of the lotus-eaters. It is an eddy in the flow of the travelers' circuit, trapping those who don't have the energy or desire to pull themselves out. The days passed in similar fashion, centered primarily around food. In fact, the biggest decisions of each day were typically what and where to eat, and with whom. These decisions and their execution would easily eat up several hours at a time, peppered with sunbathing, motobiking, and general lounging about. Fortunately, Vicki and I motivated each other (or maybe she motivated me) to get out and about and see a few of the surrounding sights. But when it came to gluttonous hedonism at mealtime, we were on the same wavelength...I enjoyed the following exquisitely inexpensive meals:

• Beach BBQ'd barracuda, shrimp, squid, and MONSTROUS prawns
• Multiple trips to Saigon 199, the cheap and filling noodle soup joint favored by Dwight and Jarno
• A two course meal of barracuda ceviche and prawn-stuffed beef tenderloin (with Aussie wine)
• A massive bowl of yellow curry with beef
• Several tasty bubble teas and a "hamburger"
• Countless different styles of Cambodia's characteristic dish, fish Amok (curry and coconut milk)
• A few helpings of the traditional English breakfast treat...baked bean toasties
• A scrumptious pizza
• One family-style meal of rich Indian food...not the best, nor the worst
• In the company of three Swedish women, traditional Swedish sausage with cream-sauced pasta
• One late-night hot dog
• And no doubt several other dishes that have slipped my memory...

I want to note that I danced a lot with the late night crowd at the beachfront bars. I think this exercise offsets the aforementioned gluttony. I think. In any case, Vicki and I realized that, for our last two days together, we had to escape Sihanoukville. So we booked a ride to Kampot and enjoyed one last night with our good friends.

On Kampot:

I have been here for seven days now, and I love it. Vicki and I had a great time for my first two days here, which brought her total to seven days in Kampot. We moto'd to Kep, a nearby resort town recently pulling itself up after hard times. This ride was one of the most beautiful I've experienced...so lush and GREEN! On our last night, Vicki used the birthday cash sent by her friend to treat the two of us to what is arguably the best meal I've had on this trip. I had a New Zealand rib eye and Vicks had the Argentine rib eye (mine was better, but we split them) and a fantastic bottle of Australian Shiraz-CabSauv.

Since Vicki's departure, I've been puttering around this town, surfing the web, enjoying coffee, feasting on the occasional "expensive" Khmer dish at a western-run restaraunt, and wolfing down more than enough tasty street meals at $0.50 each. This brings me full circle and finally up-to-date on the blog.

The latest news, however, is that I may return to Kampot to stay for a month. I met today with Hallam Goad of the Sugar Palm Project. This non-profit association works with local families and the...ever so cooperative...government of Cambodia to carry out urban planning and community development projects. I told Hallam, straightforwardly, that I wanted to stay in Kampot for one month of my travels and have some positive effect on the people and community around me. I mentioned my interest in working in water resource management and sanitation but said I'd be happy to dig holes, paint walls, or write e-mails if I knew it was for something good. He was visibly pleased to have an eager volunteer and told me he'd set about immediately finding the best fit for me. In the mean time, tomorrow I strike northwest to Battambang and Siem Reap (for the temples of Angkor) before my visa burns out on the 31st. Once a position is secured, I'll renew my visa in Phnom Phen and spend May in Kampot.

That's literally my journey in a nutshell, thanks for tuning in.

Until next time...stay classy, world.

Sunsets and Sacrifice

I have a lot of ground to cover in this long-delayed post...I'm writing this in drafts but I just need to mention now that I will be wearing a helmet EVERY time I'm on a motobike from now on...I JUST bore witness to what is likely the death of a young Khmer man involved in a motobike collision. Though a big crowd formed for a while, the collective interest wore off quickly. "Happens every day," I was told by my internet cafe proprietor. "Sometimes they live, sometimes they don't. I think today he will not survive." Heavy stuff, but this country's seen worse.



Right. I'm going to tackle this in two installments. First, I need to close out my Lao adventure. By close out, I mean make my best effort to cram in all the experiences and stories between Vientiane--where I left off--and the Cambodian border of Lao. I'll play around with my writing style just because I'll get bored if I don't.

The Pursuit of Healthiness: Vientiane

As I had mentioned previously, I arrived in Vientiane sick as can be and seeking solitary recovery time. As the travel circuit so often allows, I ran into a young Swedish woman I'd met in Luang Prabang weeks earlier. We shared stories (hers more interesting than mine as they featured several weeks alone on a bicycle in the middle of nowhere Lao!) and pizza at the Swedish Bakery before I had to call it a night on account of my roiling guts. By luck alone, I caught her that morning before her departure. She had left John Krakauer's "Into the Wild" at the front desk of my guesthouse. I read it cover to cover the next day while stuck in bed. I forced myself outside and rented a scooter for a day of admin and exploration. I had a foot and tummy massage at the forest monestary sauna (I had tried to request a medicinal foot massage that would help settle a bad stomach, but I think that got lost in translation), squared away my Lao visa extension and Cambodian visa, and moto'd all over to catch a great Mekong sunset. I woke on the Ides of March feeling much better, spent several hours online, ate some great food, and had a night on the town starting with a French arts festival along the banks of the Mekong. It took until the 17th for me to peel myself away from the comforts of Vientiane...

South!

I make my ticket to Thakhek just because someone told me it boasts a big cave. A seven-kilometer cave, to be exact. I like caves a lot so I figure I'll give it a go. A modest bus journey plops me outside of town at about midnight. The only westerners I see at the station indicate that I could walk to town if I wished. "Your pack is not so large, should be no problem," I'm told in a heavy, undetermined accent. I am unable to get an estimate of the distance as they hurridly scramble onto their bus. A pleasant, moonlit three kilometers later, I crash onto a simple dorm bed for about two bucks. I wake to discover, rising from the bed next to mine, Maarten of my northern Lao adventure as he prepares for a two-night jungle trek. Stories are shared around the breakfast table and I am soon convinced to scrap the over-touristed, tour guide-only, not-that-thrilling, seven-kilometer cave and instead focus my time on the Bolaven Plateau. By chance, two Dutch women--one of whom is an airline stewardess who claims Hesse's Siddartha is a reflection of her life's experience--I'd met in Vientiane were headed south to Pakse that day...without hesitation I tag along. I eat roasted shiny green bugs on the bus and arrive in Pakse after nightfall. Quickly learning that the city is ruled by a tuk-tuk mafia (drivers of the simple, noisy taxis ubiquitous in SE Asia) I reluctantly cough up the dollar or so to get from the bus station into town. My frustration with extortionate forced transportation costs mounts as I fall into bed...

Elevation Rider: The Bolaven Plateau

From Pakse I sought to entertain my dream of cruising around Lao's famous Bolaven Plateau, 1500 meters above the Mekong valley. I envisioned myself with wind in my face, surrounded by a wild new land, cruising around the Bolaven each day until sundown then finding a village or house for cultural enrichment and a night's rest. The actual story, as is commonly said in these parts, is "same same, but different."

I chased a few waterfalls (bullheadedly at times), learned that "National Protected Area" translates roughly to "Sneaky Logging Operation," hunted for an elusive cafe at a coffee plantation only to find it closed, fled an ominous thunderstorm, and added a dusty red hue to my (foolishly) clean white shirt. Toward late afternoon, I stopped at Tad Lo, the first of the well-known waterfalls on my ~180 kilometer loop. Finding myself at Mama's Guesthouse, I stayed four nights. I quickly discovered that getting stuck in Tad Lo is more common that most travelers expect.

Most notably in my company was a German-speaking northern Italian couple who'd befriended nearly all of the village childern and whose thatched bungalow was covered in flowers offered by the ever-laughing lot. They had been at Mama's for six days and would stay another three. Several others had fallen into similar situations, drawn to Mama's cheap but massive portions of noodle soup, fried rice, pad thai, or baguette sandwiches (didn't really matter what was ordered, one of those four was inevitably going to end up on the table, costing about a buck). The days were spent playing in the waterfalls and pools with the local children, eating, sunning, and generally "lao-nging" about. The nights, around the table with cheap beer and lively, international conversation.

For me, Mama's at Tad Lo provided the perfect launch point for area exploration. Fully intent on utilizing my $8/day bike (haggled down from $10), I set out the first day toward the Katu village known for its coffee cultivation and placement of full coffins underneath the stilted houses. I found both of these and also gained acquaintance with Hook, the only English-speaker in the village. He asked if I could give him a lift to the Thateng market, some 30 kilometers south. "Why not?" has worked well for me on this trip, as it did with Hook. After hitting the market, where I bought some of his village's coffee, he and I took off into the backcountry of Lao to visit some seriously out-of-the-way villages. I was REALLY tempted to pursue an offer by the villagers to explore some of the surrounding caves that had been occupied by U.S. troops in the 70s. Another time perhaps. I made it back to Mama's for dinner and a social evening.

Other highlights of Tad Lo and surroundings: getting my hand sniffed by an elephant's trunk, jumping from high rocks into big pools, swimming under a waterfall, playing with little kids, meeting the Dutch girls, Wieneke and Paulina and several other travelers whose paths would cross mine later on, attending a really obnoxious concert and gambling with locals in nearby Ban Beng, driving Mama to the market on my moto and loading it up with 15 cabbages and two big bags of assorted produce, stumbling across a massive dried up waterfall, and indulging in lao lao during a village festival.

Reflections on Sacrificial Slaughters:

I woke at 5am on Sunday the 23rd of March following two hours of laolao induced sleep. I did this because I was determined to witness a once-yearly livestock sacrifice. Riding my moto in the pre-dawn darkness, I returned to the location of the previous night's festival. What I found was not what I expected. Where I hoped to see a village united by ancesteral ceremony, I saw a mix of hungover or drunk men, hyper little kids, trash everywhere, and a line of 10 costumed men (most of whom were drunk and/or exhausted) dancing the same slow, rhythmic dance I'd seen them performing five hours earlier. Their dance encircled two calves, three cows, and one water buffalo, tethered to heavy vertical logs covered ornately with flowers and bamboo. The dancing stopped and the scene turned grim...there was little ceremony over the animals, save for the quick prayer and splash of water offered by a middle-aged woman. The tethered beasts no longer struggled, visibly resigned to their fate.

This would have been easier to witness had it not been for the lone, untethered calf. It's pained and desperate call at the side of a soon-to-be-slaughtered calf pierced the relative quiet of the village morning. Indeed, each of the six beasts was clubbed over the head and speared through the heart, the blood collected as an offering to the spirits. Watching the buffalo was the hardest, as it protested its fate the hardest after witnessing the fall of its cousins. I was the only westerner present and I just kept respectfully quiet. On the bright side, I'd never seen the butchery of a cow before, and was able to witness this as EVERY part of each animal was distributed through the village in mere minutes. So I've witnessed a sacrificial slaughter and I don't ever need to do it again. I still love a good steak.

Completing the Loop: Tad Lo-->Sekong-->Paksong-->Pakse

Having started the day off with a livestock sacrifice, my day grew exponentially brighter with the rising sun...I rode with absolute freedom, though my compass pointed south, my speedometer and odometer were broken, and I had no watch. I stopped where I wished, was taunted by an inaccessible cave, chased more waterfalls, and took about 65 photos worthy of keeping. Underestimating my distance traveled, I found myself taking beautiful sunset photos with another 50 kilometers yet to Pakse. The night grew very cold at elevation and I...being the good Eagle Scout I am...utilized ALL of my layers. I arrived safely in Pakse and slept well that night.

Return to Island Life: Si Phon Don (4000 Islands)

I was bored the next morning in Pakse. So I decided to hitch hike south to Si Phon Don. I could buy a ticket for about four bucks but I didn't want to. Nor did I want to pay the damn tuk-tuk drivers to drive me the eight kilometers to the bus station...I mentioned my frustration with them earlier. So I started walking. I picked up a cheap, quick lift from a guy on a motobike, made it to the station and shocked all around by setting out on foot. First I snagged a sawngthaew (converted pickup-taxis with benches in the bed) to a village. Sure it cost a dollar, but it put me in the middle of nowhere! After rides from a guy moving furniture and an off-duty taxi driver, I found myself in the mid-day heat staring down empty blacktop to the northern and southern horizons. I'd had my kicks, waited in the shade of a lonely tree, and flagged down a two dollar ride to Don Det (my desired location). I call it a successful day.

Si Phon Don is as beautiful and amazing as I was told. I arrived in the late afternoon with time to catch the sunset with several friends from Mama's place in Tad Lo. From March 24th to the 31st, I kept residence at the Sunset Peace and Love Resort, a humble, three-bungalow business run by 25-year-old Phoo Si and his family. By the end of my stay, I had eaten with the family several times, accompanied Phoo Si on his daily setting of fishing nets (an experience that was at once mundane and magical for the two 25-year-olds present), brought business to the bungalows through promotion, and made several suggestions for improvement that were immediately carried out. I have a great deal of respect for the Lao people, even in light of unchecked tourist growth and westernization.

I didn't spend all my time at the bungalow, to be sure. In the company of various groups and individuals, I enjoyed countless great experiences. Swimming in the Mekong at sunset, candlelit conversations on the beach, fresh-baked chocolate cake, a healthy 32 kilometer bike ride around Don Khong (the biggest island of them all!), strolls down palm-lined paths, hours of hammock-swinging, and the most amazing curry EVER to name a few.

One of the most notable stories, however, is the underwear incident. I found myself at a great swimming hole without my swim shorts. No worries, all the Lao men bathe and swim in their skivvies, so I was fine doing the same. I just played it cool when I joined company with a good looking bronzed Dutch girl. We pole fished and drank beer for a few hours (catching only one tiny bait fish) before two buddies said there was room in the boat for me to join them on a dolphin watching tour. One of these guys was Younes, an unbelievably charismatic Parisian I'd met twice before completely by chance. The dolphins, by the way, had been something of a pilgrimage for me over the past few weeks. These are the rare freshwater Errawaddy Dolphins, only found in S. Lao and Cambodia. Good company and dreams of dolphin chasing led me to jump on the boat leaving my shorts, sandals, and camera in the care of the Dutch girl, Susan. What followed was an unforgettable experience of watching dolphins play in the sunset (from Cambodian soil after paying a dollar to the "police") while drinking Beer Lao and eating freshly caught fish...all in my underwear without a camera! Our visibly drunk boat guide deftly navigated the rapids of the Mekong in darkness and we returned to find Susan comfortably chatting with locals. It was nice to have pants again.

Si Phon Don was the perfect location to burn out the extra days I'd put on my Lao visa. Finally, on the 31st, I began my new adventure. My next installment will feature my journey south to Cambodia, an adrenaline-fueled motobike experience in Phnom Phen, a wild New Year's celebration in Sihanoukville, and bringing this blog beast up-to-date, my pleasant days whiled away in Kampot.