Thursday, 27 December 2007
Wednesday, 26 December 2007
A long stretch of fine white sand, sprinkled with multi-coloured stones polished smooth by the crashing waves and fragments of coral, swept up the beach by the tides, with the odd crab scuttling over them. And the best part - it was empty, save for a few village boys who ran out to the surf at noon to escape the midday heat.
The place - the eastern coast of Johor in Malaysia, a beach called Batu Layar. I secretly wished it was a nameless beach, mine to remember and cherish forever, one of those fortuitous finds while driving down the very scenic and peaceful coastal roads of the Johorian coast, passing by idyllic kampungs (villages) and swaving coconut fronds in the salty sea breeze.
There were a few deserted looking beach bungalows, and a resort somewhere nearby. Most people seem to give this place a miss in favour of nearby Desaru, which i feel is severely overrated and has some seriously scruffy beaches now.
Another great beach getaway, although a bit more commercialised (in infrastructure terms only) but boasting some great, crystal clear waters with an abundance of marine life like fishes, corals, sea cucumbers and sea urchins - in the shallows no less, you can just wade in and explore, is Pulau Tinggi, in the waters around the Pahang/Johor boundary, again skipped in favour of the more touristy Pulau Tioman nearby.
Tuesday, 25 December 2007
Unexpectedly cold morning in Udon Thani, but still a fun day out zipping around Udon on a moto and later a Skylab, albeit a little cold.
Touched by the kindness of a stranger at the BKS station. This Thai lady who lives in Seremban, Malaysia and spoke fluent Mandarin offered to pay my fare of 80 baht when i didn't have enough baht on me and they did not take dollars, what with the money changers all closed this early in the morning, i was fretting about not being able to board and having to spend another (boring) day in Udon Thani. Paid her back later, but it really was a heart warming experience.
Up to that point ill admit i was a little disappointed with this trip, this part of the world where the ticketing system necessitates you to hand over your passport, take a seat, and wait for your name to be gruffly called before you could buy a ticket, and this whole procedure figured out by observing people and trial and terror processes with my limited Thai and the ticket clerk's grunted replies and his obvious I-havent-had-my-coffee-this-morning-so-bugger-off mood. But its these little moments, these acts of kindness by people you have never seen before and probably will never see again that makes me feel that life can be so simple and beautiful, and that i want to travel as long as my legs can still carry me.
That aside i crossed the border at Nong Khai without any further incident on the uber comfortable Thai-Lao bus, with carpeted flooring and big comfortable seats to sink into. The clearance was a bit on the slow side on the Laotian border, but what the hell. I was grinning to myself like an idiot, having somehow managed to bumble my way here, and right on schedule too.
Monday, 24 December 2007
Which summed up my day. Wasn't, exactly, having the best of days when i wrote this down waiting for the flight at the venerable DMK, so i guess ill leave out some parts. The day itself was a blur of crossing immigration posts, getting on planes and getting off them.
Am actually flying into Thailand (Udon Thani) and not Vientiane itself because i, being a cheapskate, am looking at shaving some 200 Singapore dollars off the air ticket.
The only thing that was the cause of some excitement that day was seeing David Gemmell's third instalment of the Troy trilogy hitting the shelves at the bookstore at Changi airport. Have been waiting for the third part for some time after they announced his wife would continue his work following his death.
The days travelling ended at Pakalang Mansions in Udon Thani. After all the quirky places i've stayed in, this was absolute luxury at 290 baht. Aircon, cable TV, big queen sized bed and even a writing desk. Just that no one spoke English at the place and it was rather difficult to converse. I mean its downright ridiculous to expect people to speak English everywhere you go, and since i did not speak Thai, (i do now, survival Thai at least - as you will after a few days in Udon Thani), it was rather difficut to understand each other.
The first thing that struck me about Udon Thani was the cold, and the absence of any foreigners at all. I had at first walked out of the airport and into the main streets, expecting a horde of tuk tuks and taxi touts, but nope. None to be seen. Hitch-hiking didn't seem like a viable option too, so in the end i had to grudgingly trudge back to the airport and put myself at the mercy of the airport taxis.
Friday, 21 December 2007
My excess baggage: Too many shirts - could/would always pick up a few fresh shirts at destination. The third pair of pants was a bit unnecessary too. And the Periplus map, which only covered big cities in decent detail - Lonely Planet is a more compact, accessible and detailed option.
Stuff i needed: A good paperback book to read on those long bus peregrinations, and at the airport. Reading the guidebook for like the upteenth time does get a bit boring.
Thursday, 20 December 2007
Ill try to document my travels as is, that is to just repost what i scribbled down on the road in my now very dog-earred and tattered notebook, to capture the spirit of travel, the moments themselves.
I think this has been the most beautiful journey in my life - it has also reinforced my belief that backpacking can be beneficial to both the backpacker and the place he/she is travelling in, responsible, and ethical. Along the way i tried to give my money to local communities as much as possible, ie buying directly from the producer, staying at family run guesthouses, and also through participating in community-based programs like village homestays and eco-trekking, both which were particularly memorable and beautiful experiences. Buying books from Big Brother Mouse outlets around Laos, a charitable organisation which publishes children's books which are educational and fun to read, to distribute to kids along my travels was another way to help local communities as much as i could while travelling.
Thursday, 29 November 2007
Tuesday, 27 November 2007
Another spot that was absolutely stunning was the hidden wall at the Terrace of the Leper King near the center of the Angkor Thom (Great City), with carvings fresh and sharp as if they were just carved yesterday.
The Kleangs, normally quite deserted and devoid of any annoying tour groups clamouring to pose for photographs just so they can get back on to the air conditioned comfort of their bus is yet another personal favourite. For reasons stated above. It was just peaceful and tranquil, surrounded by some trees and lying in a clearing.
Monday, 26 November 2007
Ta Keo is an enigmatic, unadorned temple that rises some 50 metres high, and apparently construction stopped due to an inauspicious lightning strikes, as some theories go. Some of the sandstone blocks transported down the river for its construction still lay unused along the outer passageways, showing how abruptly construction was halted.
What i liked about Ta Keo was its sheer scale and grandeur, being one of the largest Angkorian temples, and the somewhat menacing and eerie enigma that surrounds the sudden halt in building work. There was this Khmer guy who showed me around the compound, pointing out facts and little bits of trivia, and i quite enjoyed his company as we strolled down the deserted passageways and he showed me the supposed easier stairway to the topmost landing, 50 meters or so up.
Unique is the best word to describe Neak Pean, a large pool with a central island shrine encircled by the body of 2 serpents (which lends the name) surrounded by four smaller pools that flow into it, once filled with water and reachable by boat, but now dry. The four chambers that allow the smaller pools to feed into the large one each has a different spout in the shapes of a lion, an elephant, a human and a horse
What i really loved about the Angkor Wat was less the facade itself, althought that was stunning, but more so the cool dark interior corridors that once had seen the passage of people, priests and maybe even kings of the great Khmer civilisation, now whispering such secrets, thick with history and intrigues, in its bas reliefs, carvings, beguiling apsaras (heavenly nymphs) and false windows, and the occassional statuette in the confluence of silent corridors. All silent, all cool in the half light despite the midday sun blazing overhead. I used to stroll the corridors, aimlessly, and wonder, what it must have been like almost 1 millenium ago.
Cycling around the Angkor is still a pursuit undertaken by relatively few travellers. Most hire a tuk tuk for the day for around 10 to 12 dollars to take them around the Grand Circuit.
Why cycle then? For starters, there is more freedom in taking to the road yourself, instead of being chauffered around the circuit in a tuk tuk crossing off the temples as you pass them by or stop for a quick look around. Cycling is pretty much an own time, own target enterprise. I am hassled by no one, i move when i want to move, and i can spend as much time as i want on the road, admiring the jungle itself and the play of sunlight on the trees or just stopping by a lesser known temple and finding that im the only person there, embarking on yet another attempt to climb towards the central landing, only giving up halfway up and then settling down on the stairs to enjoy the view and slightly quaver in fear at the immense height and inevitable treacherous journey down.
Seeing that these temples were meant to symbolise an ascent to the abode of the Gods, climbing was not supposed to be an easy task - well, its never going to be easy to ascend the heavens right?
Left: An impossible ascent, now that the sandstone steps have been eroded by the ebb and flow of time and history.
Above, right: Treacherous steps that lead up the the central tower of the Angkor Wat.
Saturday, 24 November 2007
Now i pretty much stick to around 20 plus litres going and then more coming back, and just have a rough itinery at hand of what i want to do and how im going to fit it into the time i have in the country im travelling in.
Friday, 23 November 2007
The main sandstone causeway across a huge moat to the Angkor Wat. The start of a symbolic walk to the centre of the universe at Mount Meru, the heavens epitomised by the central, tallest tower of the Angkor Wat, surrounded by 4 shorter towers.
I seem to have a predilection for that Starbucks outlet outside United Square, in Novena, Singapore. Watching the water cascade down the fountain-wall from my favourite seat on an idle weekday afternoon is always nice, you feel that you have all the time in the world, and with it the ability to do anything you ever wanted to.
Particularly memorable was sitting down in there, before Christmas last year, with a hot Christmassy drink in hand, and planning for my first crazy adventure that would see me travelling overland from Hanoi weaving through Cambodia, Thailand, Malaysia before finally reaching Singapore city, Singapore. It didnt materialise though, very sadly. But the audacity of it, for a first timer. Brings a smile to my face today, to think of it. To borrow from David Stirling, Who Dares Wins, and that young lad of 16 planning that madcap overland trip on such a low bank budget probably played a huge role in me realising who i am today and who i want to be, a vagabond at heart, existing for myself and none other, and a backpacker.
Thursday, 22 November 2007
- Security packet - waterproofed, left at bottom of pack and hope to never open it
- First aid kit - Again, hope never to open, left at bottom of pack
- Guidebook, Map and Compass
- Hydration system - its just convenient and distrubutes the weight of the pack much better than big 1.5 litre water bottles.
- Money pouch - i prefer the one that wraps around your calf - very hard to pick
- Alarm clock - smallest one possible
- Camera - stuffed in pocket
- Batteries - plenty, for the camera
- Shirts - 4 - 1 wash, 1 to wear, 1 just in case and 1 to sleep in
- Shorts - 1 pair, to sleep in
- Track pants - 1 pair, just in case
- Trek pants - 1
- Jeans - 1
- Socks - 2 pairs
- Waterproof jacket - 1
- Flip flops
- Spare spectacles
- Tape - for repairs - Nasa requires each space shuttle mission carry one - need i say more
- Toilet roll - crushed, waterproofed, left on top of pack - my theft deterrence system
- Writing material
- Passport photos - for visas etc
- Toiletries - ziplocked bag
- Ziploc bags
Wednesday, 21 November 2007
Places to visit around Phnom Penh include the National Museum, interesting collection of Khmer artefacts and a nice, tranquil courtyard with fish ponds and housing the statue of the Leper King (the one at Siem Reap on top of a knoll is a replica).
The Russian Market, Psaa Tuol Tom Pong where during the height of the Cold War Russians shopped for Ak47s and marijuana, is now a nice, family friendly touristy market. Worth visiting? For a few souvenir kramas and carvings - nothing else much actually, and so's the other markets i checked out including Psaa Olympic, Russei amongst others.
The more memorable one was Psaa Thmei, the huge yellow ziggurat like dome in the middle of Phnom Penh, due to its sheer size and architecture. Some of the traders here speak Chinese (being Cambodians of Chinese descent) and it was quite nice to chat with them about life in Cambodia in general, and without the language barrier it was as if i was exposed to a whole new world of insights. Its always nice to meet someone in a foreign land, a local who share a common language with you, like the owners of the Malaysia Restaurant who spoke Malay, but alas were not exactly friendly or in a good mood when i popped by for breakfast. The opposite place, where the waiter was Malaysian was much better. The food was quite good as opposed to the rubbery beef at the Malaysia, and he even made teh tarek for me when i asked for tea. Although it was mind-blowingly, diabetes-causing sweet, it was nevertheless a really nice gesture and a taste of home this far away.
Monday, 19 November 2007
The horror at Security Prison 21
A prison cell at the S21. Bloodstains can still be seen on the floors and walls.
Saturday, 10 November 2007
Reached PP at night on the 28th of December, 2006, cleared customs and walked out into the night in Phnom Penh. That feeling is always exhilarating, clearing customs and then walking out into the warm night, taking in the city all at once, right there waiting for you to explore. After ging to some guesthouses in the city, finally found a place at Lucky Ro, some GH near Psaa Chaa (New Market) and the Lyon d'Or and the riverside. 7 dollars a night here got me a TV, bed and shower.
First few days in Phnom Penh were spent visiting the S21 prison-museum and the Killing Fields of Choueng Ek, a chilling testimony to mankind's brutality and cruelty against his fellow men.
Above: Mass graves at Choueng Ek. When it rains, new teeth and bone slivers and clothes are often unearthed around the Killing Fields area.
Skulls of the victims of the Khmer Rouge
Paid i think was 5 dollars for a single room which was very clean, spartan, but clean, with a single bed, coat hanger and a paint bucket that doubled as trash can. Shared toilets were just down the corridor. Clean, also. The had a nice restaurant/cafe on the second floor, a nice touch as well for those seeking a quick breakfast or a snack before moving out.
Siem Reap itself was a small town, divided neatly by a river into 2 halves connected by a few bridges that serve as a rough guidepost as to where you are in Siem Reap. Bar Street, admittedly, was a bit of an incongruity in Siem Reap, an entire street that was cordoned off by the tourist police at night so that tourists and travelllers can waltz/stumble down the street with no risk of being hit by motos. As the name suggest, the street was really a collection of bars, pubs and some clubs, with the occassional souvenir shop and bookstore. Still, a nice place to get lost in at night after a tiring day exploring the Angkor temples, although not nearly as atmospheric as Boeng Kak. Say what you want, but backpacker ghettos have a certain charm to them, the itinerant charm of thousands of young backpackers passing through throughout the years in search of adventure and their own true selves, and that you are one of them, just one of the many in this greater journey of life.
Left: Photo of a Psaa (market) opposite Bar Street at evening.
Bar Street, on the other hand, was more tourist oriented, and the prices were generally much higher. What was more fun, i found, was the places just outside bar street, the roadside stalls and street markets that obviously are there to cater to the poor young backpacker who cant really afford to wine and dine in Bar Street. I remember this stall selling fantastic tukalok (Cambodian fruit shakes - amazing) for around 2,000 riels, and great, hot meals like fried rice or noodles for 4,000 riels (1USD), way cheaper and more authentic than what the restaurants in Bar Street offers, enjoyed al fresco perched on the little stools. That said, there was this Mexican restaurant around Bar Street that had amazing tortillas and margaritas thats worth a try. And Khmer Bohrane Restaurant wasn't too bad either.
Friday, 9 November 2007
Wednesday, 7 November 2007
Waking up, and thinking hey, im actually in (insert country name), and looking out of the window, first thing in the morning, taking in the fresh morning air and looking at the locals who have already awoken before you going about their lives.
This is then followed by washing up with the really cold tap water, and then packing for the day's activities. You then go out of your room, making sure its locked securely behind you (occassionally turning back midway down the stairs just to give the padlock another pull), and reach the streets you saw from your window and so many months ago in that guidebook or website, instantly hit by an assortment of new scents in the air, the inevitable moto drivers that camp in front of your guesthouse, touting their services, the stream of people passing by and the sound of motos and people going about their daily lives.
The immediate priority is then breakfast. Hunting it down (in an almost neanderthal cave-man analogy) is a joy. Following your nose through the labyrinthine local markets, walking down alleys, avoiding stray dogs foraging through last night's trash and going in coffee shops with men in jackets sitting out front sipping tea and staring at you while you enter, and looking forward to a great, authentic local breakfast is one of the small, sweet joys of travelling.
Breakfast is the time when you see a nation on the move, workers having that quiet, introspective cup of coffee before heading off to work, housewives shopping for groceries at local wet markets, and children going to school. Waking up and smelling the coffee, literally, is an amazing start to the day, especially on those cold, chilly mornings.
After downing that hot steaming cup of coffee - sometimes it doesn't matter what you order, coffee seems to be the rule in Southeast Asia, from the Super 3-in-1 mixes you get in Burma to authentic Vietnamese coffee. The exception, of course, is Malaysia, where protocol dictates you start the day with a hot glass of teh tarik (pulled tea literally, ie tea with condensed milk poured form mug to mug at sometimes spectacular heights) with your roti chanai or nasi lemak.
Finishing that warming mug of coffee and settling the bill, you then hoist your daypack over your back, well fed, warm and looking forward to what adventures the day will bring. From the little coffeeshop or stall nestled in a row of colonial buildings, you then walk, cycle or hail a moto to bring you to your next destination, might it be a museum, a monument you've seen countless times on postcards, or just the riverside for a slow walk to collect your thoughts, as is often the case in Indochina with the lovely French colonial cities that line the mighty Mekong.
The road to Phnom Penh was blissful tarmac all the way, nothing really interesting happened. Fell asleep through the 4 hour ride, which soon pulled up in Phnom Penh's Psaa Thmei (Central Market), or Psaa Niek Mien (Rich Man's Market) as known by the locals. After fighting off the touts, it was find-a-place-to-stay-for-the-night time again. Having stayed at the somewhat more middle class (read:boring) area around the riverside during my first few days in Phnom Penh, i decided to give Boeng Kak, backpackersville aka the Lake a try despite its rather bad reputation even within a city that has probably the worst reputation in Southeast Asia. That said, i still love Phnom Penh for what it was - unassuming, messy, chaotic, without any of the facade commonly draped over mega cities that draw tourists by the plane loads.
Boeng Kak, was, at least interesting. Although the place i stayed in definitely wasn't. The i don't really care im only going to stay here for one night mentality is not a good one when you crawl back in at night to find youself surrounded be cardboard thin wooden walls, and a shower area that i wouldn't dare linger in, after even having braved Burmese toilets that were basically just a pit in the ground. It was dark, claustrophobic, slimey and dirty. And to top it all up, my room had a window. Yep, a window that opened out right into the lake, with all its algae and infestations (trust me guys, Boeng Kak lake is not somewhere you'd want to go swimming). That in itself wasn't a problem. The problem was that this was a surefire sign i was going to get eaten alive by half the mozzies on the lake that night. Thank God for insect repellant and mosquito nets.
The guesthouse in question (Dead Fish or Lazy Fish, i think it was the latter) was at least cheap at 3 dollars a night, and it had a pool table and something that resembles a bar overlooking the lake. This if of course balanced (i say outweighted) against the state of the rooms.
Back to pleasanter topics. I was having a nice quiet Beer Lao on the deck overlooking the lake when guess who decided to return to PP en route to Siem Reap and check into the very same guesthouse? We had a few drinks before going out to explore Boeng Kak for the night, and had some great naan at the Indian Curry Pot, which took us some time and asking around to find. But it sure was worth it. (Crane your necks a bit - it's upstairs, above some diver's bar or something that has a catchy blue neon sign.) Popped into a little souvenir shop and bought the little flags that now sit proudly on my pack.
Boeng Kak itself was labyrinthine, mazy alleys of banana pancake shops, travel agencies, money changers, restaurants that cater primarily to the backpacker. A self contained and sufficient backpacker community, ala Khao San Road, which has more than its fair share of detractors. My take on all this is that, once in a while, its fun to be in a backpackers ghetto, see similar people, have the much maligned banana pancake, get a drink or two, have fantastic curry (Indian Curry Pot!), but do this all the time and your adventure becomes a tad pointless doesn't it? Personally i treat these places as a bit of a Friday's night out place, where after say a week of exploring the city and roughing it, i can kick back and maybe feel a slice of home or just hang out with the backpacker community, and get some travel related stuff done - admittedly its much easier to sort out visas etc at these places.
Departure next day to Siem Reap, can't remember if i bought the bus tickets before hand. Probably not. So the next day i was crawling out of my mosquito net early in the morning, thankful i haven't got bitten (minor miracle at work here), got into a tuk-tuk and was soon on a bus to Siem Reap.
Tuesday, 6 November 2007
Day trips to the island can be arranged through most guesthouses in S'ville (~8USD), if you have time to kill. Other activities include (actually are, or is) snorkelling at a few spots before stopping for lunch at Koh Russei itself. And my friend had this to say about snorkelling - She saw a fish. So we can deduce that the snorkelling most probable isn't great either. And for those who like to keep dry, (ie me), staying on the boat is relaxing, chatting with the other hydrophobes, but not a way you'd want to spend most of a morning/afternoon.
The saving grace was the really memorable picnic lunch of barracuda steak, baguette (again) and salad, the fillet of fish wrapped in aluminium foil and cooked right on the beach. Most Southeast Asian veterans who have included a stop at Russei probably remember this meal as one of the best in Southeast Asia. If nothing, a trip to Koh Russei is synonymous with the barracuda steak/burger - well apparently there is the burger variant too.
The picnic thing got to me though - felt like a whole package tour thing, you know, the everyone stick together and follow the leader, not really my, or any independent traveller's cup of tea. Give this a miss, Ream National Park, though expensive at 15 USD, is a far more rewarding trip for those who have a spare day in S'ville and are juxtaposing Ream with Russei (as most do).
I balked at the high cost, but pay peanuts, get monkeys (think NKF saga) is probably ironic here in that you actually get to see monkeys amongst other wildlife like eagles and even dolphins if you venture into the national park, also known as Preah Sihanouk National Park.
I find buying a map particularly helpful, and also having a separate fund where how much you save translates directly into how much more your travel budget is. Buying a guidebook in advance is also a good idea - flipping through it and envisioning journeys occupies the time you normally spend on the town, and it keeps you motivated to save for the journey.
And finally, no, you don't have to be a college student (with too much free time) to travel. Although, admittedly, i rather do appreciate those long summer breaks (3 months =).
Monday, 5 November 2007
From Phnom Penh buses run to S'ville (4 dollars) and vice versa, smooth ride, few hours. Cant remember exactly, must be around 4. It was that uneventful that i think i managed some sleep. Shared taxi also ply this road, if you feel the urge to get squeezy or are rich enough to travel in comfort by chartering the whole cab. There is also the option of going by a combination of boat/bus from Thailand.
At the moment, no annoying Japanese/Korean tour groups (sorry, but my research findings fail to disprove this theory), no touts, no persistent local trying to sell things you obviously don't need, no over-commercialisation. Reasons enough to go? I guess. It's not paradise on the Cambodian coast, but it sure is a welcome change from temples (if you're from Siem Reap), wilderness (Ratanakiri, Mondulkiri), or the tragedy of Pol Pot's genocidal reign (Phnom Penh - S21, Killing Fields).
Sunday, 4 November 2007
There are a few options available,
1. Find a moto driver insane enough to take you up the hill
2. Bike up, which involves in the first place getting a good off road bike (hard) and gear (hard)
3. Taking a monster truck up (highly recommended)
4. Taking a pickup
The last 2 options can be easily arranged at most, if not all guesthouses in Kampot, costing around 6-8 USD if u share with other travellers. Add to the cost the 5 dollars you have to pay for entry into Bokor National Park. You don't actually have to find travel companions, the GHs in Kampot seem to have wonderful organisational skills in that they have several trucks going up each day that makes stops at the various GHs dotted around town to pickup passengers. Try to get a ride on a monster truck up, if you can, and just for your information the road up Bokor is known very affectionately by local guides as "number 1 road in Kampot".
On whichever mode of transport you chose its long winding "roads" up to Bokor. Roads, as you can see is used in inverted commas, due to the fact it is under extensive reclamation (by the vegetation), which can whip passengers in the cargo bed rather mercilessly as your truck ploughs up the (non-existent) roads. And try not to laugh at people being smacked in the face by vines and creepers. Karma, baby. The same species of vine that caught me across the face decided moments later to whip my obviously humoured friend. But still, the solidarity of the poor 8 (plus big backpacks) crammed into the rear of the truck in wincing together as we (again) bump over another humongous pothole (crater size is the rule) and try to avoid being whipped by stray vegetation was a fun (if painful) experience.
Sitting in the cargo bed (I got the last seat) you also have to somehow get used to getting covered in dust and breathing black fumes belches from the exhaust as the truck struggles over yet another boulder in its path, stopping more than occassionally. Upon which the guide goes down, takes a look, kicks the tyres, and voila, we were good to go. Speaking of the guide, we had a great time talking to him - "charming boy", so he says is his name, spoke great English and regaled us with tales of Bokor and his life. Apparently, they used to have wild, and i mean wild New Year's eve parties at the Bokor Hill Station (we were there on the 2nd of Jan i think), but not anymore after last year some drunk soldier took out his gun and started a war between the police and the army, with some fatalities.
The first stop on the road up was the Black Palace. Not much of a palace actually, don't know where it got its name from. More like a small house with a rather nice balcony that had amazing views of the Cambodian and Vietnamese coast - You could make out Phu Quoc Island in Vietnam clearly in the distance. Then its a 45 minute trek through the forest before we hit the main road and were picked up by the truck, then ferried to the Hill Station itself, where we were served lunch of rice, some curry and the obligatory baguette.
The hill station itself, deserves a few hours of exploration, try getting on the roof for great views of the cliffs and the surrounding structures. Sleeping at the hill itself is an option - there is the Ranger Station, extremely clean and well kept place, where a bed will cost you 10 USD. Didn't sleep over as i was headed for Sihanoukville the next day but I must think exploring Bokor at night must be some kind of an experience, something you'd want to tell your grandchildren about. Going down the hill later we picked up two Canadians who spent the night, and they had nice things to say about it, the solitude and all, feeling, under the starry firmament that you are the only person on earth.... So yea, thoroughly recommended. Bring a torch though. Kind of regret not staying over.
Other places to see on Bokor include the Catholic church, old French barracks and the casinos. Yes, you got me right. An Integrated Resort right smack on top of Bokor hill. Built by the French colonialists and then used by the Khmer government after independence. Quite a sad tale, i was told, being abandoned after many people lost too much money and jumped off the cliffs (just 20 yards away). In fact, if i get my facts right i think there were 2 casinos on Bokor itself, the newer one built further away from the cliffs after the first was abandoned. Don't quite know what happened to the newer one, but it soon became part of the surreal ghost town of Bokor too.
Made our way down by truck at around 5 o clock. Same routine - Bouncing up and down over rough terrain and potholes, dodging (unsuccessfully) vines and stray branches, holding on to the rail trying not to fall off the truck, enjoying the now familiar scent of diesel fumes, and soon (3 hours later) we were back on normal roads. They had a bit of a surprise in store for us though - we were dropped off at the coast, where we were taken by boat down the Kampot River, with Bokor and the setting sun in the horizon, me singing sunset sailing on april skies in my head, while the two sweet kids with the couple from Australia (?) fell asleep immediately, Jake looking melancholic peering out at the darkening sky. That moment, looking out at the darkening sky, seeing Bokor in the horizon, fringed by trees, listening to the whirr of the boat's motor, the smell of the engine oil was one i probably won't ever forget.
We soon rendezvoused up with our truck, which sent us back to our respective places of lodging. Had dinner with Jake that night at Mealy Chenda's as we discussed travel plans (going to Sihanoukville) and our future. Surprisingly we had a lot in common - both fresh out of high school, just did A levels and thinking of going to college. We were to meet alot again in Cambodia, every single time by coincidence, which mostly involved me walking down the street and him strolling down from the other direction.
Yep, its the hauntingly beautiful and melancholic Bokor Hill Station pictured above. Photo taken from the Hill Station itself, the main building on the hill. It had this whole colonial-days-gone mood to it, Bokor itself, originally serving as a summer retreat for the French colonial staff, reflected in the now eerily empty grand ballroom in the hill station basement and the rustic fireplace.
Left: Thats the basement of the Bokor Palace, note the fireplace on the left. The sheer emptiness of the hotel, which once must have been grand, and the plaster gathered on the floor just adds to the ghostly, hauntingly beautiful appeal of Bokor, like it has been left to the past and forgotten by the rest of the world.
Saturday, 3 November 2007
"I'd rather feel the earth beneath my feet, Yes i would, if i only could, i surely would"...
Magical, i say.
Other all time favourites include:
- Damien Rice - Cannonball
- Five for Fighting - If God made you (Thats where the blog title came from)
- Johnny Cash - I've been Everywhere
- Willie Nelson - On the Road Again
- Lisa Ono - Take me Home (country roads)
- Lisa Ono - Jambalaya
- Lyle Lovett - If I had a Boat
- Oasis - Don't Look back in Anger (singing along in Angkor What? bar/club in Siem Reap with a group of half drunk Swedes and a Briton was memorable)
- Oasis - All around the World
- Murray Head - One Night in Bangkok
- Kim Wilde - Cambodia
- Toto - Africa
Kampot Riverview Guesthouse.
I realise i haven't quite covered Bokor, ill leave that to my next post then.
Rough itinery now is like this. Arrival Udon Thani (UTH), then to Nong Khai, Thai bordertown 2 hours or so away from UTH, where ill hitch from the Friendship Bridge to Vientiane, Sandalwood city on the Mekong, 22 km away.
All my distances are in rough estimates, cant really do proper planning at the moment, no thanks to the exams. The quiz on Thursday was a real morale (what's the antonym of booster) - dampener just doesnt sound drastic enough. Never knew Multiple choice questions could be so hard. Hell, what's done's done i guess. Times like this, knowing life is more than a single bloody quiz is rather comforting. (Cue images of the Greater Mekong, the Angkorian temples, hot coffee on a cold Burmese morning (they do get rather friggin' cold) on the road to Mandalay...)
Anyway. Back to the plan. From Vientiane, ill take a bus up to Vang Vieng, spend a few days, tubing and all, then again up the road to Luang Prabang, then its Luang Namtha and Muang Sing at the Chinese border, where do some trekking before trucking back to Namtha, then going straight back to Prabang.
From Prabang, its off to Phonsavan, Plain of Jars, if i still have time on my schedule. Then its back to Vientiane, Nong Khai and UTH, and a flight back to Singapore.
Thursday, 1 November 2007
Exams in 13 days - hell where did all the time go? And leaving for Laos in 29 days.
Which leaves me little time to continue my postings. Looking forward for the post exam period where ill try to get the Burma posts done before jetting off to Laos.
Laos seems to be the new buzzword amongst the backpacker grapevine, its name whispered among independent travellers as someplace yet largely untouched by tourism and commercialism, somewhere where the travel experience is still authentic and somewhere where travel itself is the attraction. I remember sometime back it was postwar Cambodia, appealing to the danger travel crowd, and decades ago it was Thailand and her many shimmering tropical islands.
I guess i was somewhat influenced by the hype in choosing Laos, wanting to see it before it becomes another package tourist destination, like Siem Reap with the Angkor Temples are now and Thailand's many gorgeous beaches that were serendipitous paradise islands before these were claimed by tourism and corporate interests.
So far, i guess Burma has been my most authentic travel experience, beating largely my own trail and not seeing foreign faces around me most of the time. Bokor in Cambodia ranks pretty highly on my list as well, the hauntingly beautiful French casino and hill station, along with the Catholic church that stand as silent sentinels on a cold, remote mountain top, bearing witness to many things time itself has even forgtten, surrounded by lush primary forest trying hard to reclaim the single track up. Finding my own paradise. Hedonistic? Not actually. Just a reminder of how simple and uncomplicated, beautiful life can be.
Monday, 29 October 2007
Burmese days and Burmese nights that melt flawlessly into each other in a brilliant sunset or sunrise. Waking up in a foreign land, going out and being greeted by the incongruity of it all, people selling bananas on the sidewalks, packed pick up trucks zooming by, mohinga being dished out for breakfast by roadside hawkers is really an amazing experience. And this is followed by finding breakfast, a process of wandering down the streets and tree lined boulevard until you see something that catches your fancy. The roadside breakfast is probably the most authentic of all, sitting down on those small plastic stools and sharing the company of locals.
The tea houses and restaurants are also interesting places to sit down over a bowl of Shan rice noodles/mohinga/rice with mixed dishes, not forgetting the customary pot of diluted Chinese tea. The best part of it, was not seeing a single other foreigner in these places tucked away in little alleys and backstreets. Finding them is often a satisfying experience, like the small 333 noodle shop recommended by Lonely Planet tucked in a small street behind the City Hall. Or that little Burmese BBQ in Chinatown, where we, once again, perched on small stools while dipping our sticks of porcine innards into a communal pot of boiling soup for it to cook, into the chili sauce bowl, and then into our mouths. And we were actually taught how to do this by a friendly Burmese gentleman who was enjoying his meal and the young couple who ran the BBQ. Travellers often derive great satisfaction in knowing that their paths are unique, their own, and i guess im no exception, and so often it is the experiences and times you share with the people there that make these experiences unique, and so different from that of a tourist. A nice quote i think i got from LP was that a backpacker is a collector of experiences, the tourist souvenirs. Cant have put it better.
Food aside, my first day in Burma was devoted to the two main Payas in Yangon, the Sule Paya and the unmistakable Shwe Dagon, visible even when driving into the city. Sule was my first exposure to Burma's many Payas. The main attraction was not the paya itself, an undoubtedly attractive golden spire forming an island in the middle of a crossroads, but rather the people at the paya and how they went about their daily lives, as opposed to tourist sites where everyone is in the industry, you get a pseudo culture and most of what they wanted was to make money off you. It was a genuine interaction and understanding of the Burmese culture, and how religion plays a major role in their daily lives.
What struck me most was the tranquility, as if life was pure and simple, unburdened and unencumbered by the trappings of material wealth or the pursuit of it, as it should be. The Burmese, are truly, despite the hardships they face and oppression, one of the most happy, caring and content people ive ever seen.
Sunday, 28 October 2007
First experience of a cultural shock, compounded by the men in longyis gathered right outside the airport on the sandy carpark who crowded around you offering to change money and get you a taxi. The former i did at a bad rate - didn't know the rates for dollars to kyat (pronounced ch-yat) had just risen. Lost i reckon about 5 dollars. It did leave me a bad taste in the mouth, being hustled, and faced with the reality of travel in a foreign country. Admittedly i felt, then and throughout the ride into downtown Yangon, that was this what i had expected or wanted, as all first time backpackers do. Being warned by my driver against taking photographs of the guys in green longyi (traffic police), and generally anything that looks vaguely military/government did nothing to add to my enjoyment of the ride into Yangon. Doubts by then were really forming in my mind if i was misguided in embarking on this journy.
The doubts soon evaporated - the Burmese, really are the nicest people ever. I cannot even remember how many times people have offered their assistance willingly and with a smile, even though i was obviously the lost foreign tourist. Getting directions, being offered tea and meals at their own expense (which really moved me, given the hardship the Burmese people are facing), and even bringing me to their homes to meet their wives and children.
My main grievance is the insane and irritating camera fees - from 1 to 2 USD. They can spot you from a mile off when you whip out your camera, and then close in to sell you those small bookmark like tags to allow you to continue taking photos at major tourist sites.
After amassing so many of the annoying little tags, i became that wee bit wiser and started to spot those guys with their little tags and ubiquitous safari jackets coming and tuck that camera away in my pockets until they passed or went to hassle another traveller. Another thing was the high entrance fees - barring the Shwe Dagon, which i felt was really worth it at 5USD, the other places were really extortionate in their entrance fees. The worst of the lot was Bago (Pegu)'s mini Buddha World at 10 USD for a few, new Buddhist statues and temples. Did manage however, at Kyaiktyo (the Golden Rock) to avoid the 10 dollars, a fortune to the poor backpacker, by pretending to be a local with the aid of my Burmese guide, a Christian Kayin named Soe/Saw (transliteration), made easier no doubt by my Asian heritage.
What really gnaws at me is that all this insance ticketing money (expensive by most standards) is going to fund the military regime and line Senior General Than Shwe's pockets while the ordinary Burmese struggle to feed themselves and their families. Which will inevitably evoke the longstanding debate of Burma: to go or not to go.
I'd say go, main reason being that the government can survive in isolation - it has other sources of revenue (natural resource exploitation is one), while the people, if isolated, suffer much more than the government (which i presume is, and can be very happy to be left alone, especially now with mounting international pressure). Tourism can be another source of revenue to them, and helps raise awareness of their cause. Just DO NOT be a package tourist, then you really are bankrolling the junta and supporting its atrocities. As an independent traveller, staying in guesthouses and locally run hostels, definitely do not cross out Burma from your itinery. And from what i could tell after just one night in Yangon, it was beyond beautiful. It was magical.
Saturday, 27 October 2007
The heat, the stultifying midday sun that soon gave way to a cool,breezy evening, the teashops, the Burmese people in longyi (sarongs) and thanaka (cosmetic made from grinding a certain tree bark), the masses of people, laughing, with brooms sweeping the floors of the Paya in the fading light, clockwise, in a ritual to sweep away the bad luck. The flood of memories soon interrupted by another browser at the travel section. Of which im quite a regular of - drop by when i have time to kill, just flip through the maps and tracing imaginary journeys with my fingers....
But that sudden jolt into bustling, colonial Rangoon and then back made me realise i should really start writing about my experiences and memories of the Golden Land before time eats away at them. There are memories that never fade, but to me, it is those small things that matter, like the Burmese who taught me how to do up a longyi, giving a life demonstration in an eatery in the middle of no where , or stopping by the road to Mandalay to relieve ourselves and have a group of passing Burmese laugh at us. We could have, on hindsight, chosen a more strategic spot rather than right beside the bloody highway i guess.
- Photocopies of cards, passport
- Debit cards
- Some spare cash
- Contact numbers - embassy, home, insurance agent, bank etc
Absolutely essential for solo backpacking trips when your best mate is, well, yourself. A safety blanket, so to say, in case things fall apart.
And when they inevitably do, its worth noting that you travel to travel, for the journey itself and not the destination.
So ive basically restricted myself (so far) to just flipping through my Lonely Planet and going through a mental checklist of things ill need for like the millionth time. Tough. And all interspersed within long and ungodly hours of poring through notes on marketing and Lacan/Freud...
Dread leaving college and going to work for 2 weeks of leave per year... But what choice do i have. Loans have to be paid. After that ill probably quit, do my big overland trip and then decide again what i want to do with my life. Then again, hopefully journalism wont be too boring a job seeing thats going to be my major unless i prove to be an advertising genius (doubt so)....
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
The earth, that is sufficient,
(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
Friday, 26 October 2007
Which brings me: i still have to document my recent travels in Burma and Cambodia - something to do in my spare time i guess. Now what i have are little scraps of paper that i scribble upon in my room over a drink looking out at the night (if im fortunate enough to get a view). Hmm... other things to do include planning a crazy/insane RTW that will take me overland from Singers to Calais in France before taking the chunnel to Britain, down the hippie highway, overland, and then a flight to the states, down highway 66, and then Hawaii and then Japan and overland back to Southeast Asia. Is it just me that when i look at the world map, i invariably trace a route up from Singers to Burma, India, Pakistan, Iran, Turkey and up into Europe, and think, hey, thats actually not a very long road.
Also saving up (or trying to for the matter) for that KTM 640. (materialism and all.... but when i saw it i just couldn't resist.)
In short, i felt it just wasn't me. I started to question the system, the whole purpose of studying hard, going through the O, A levels, making it to university. I never questioned it, most people never, it was like it was a reality, a fact of life. But was it?
There is so much more to life than just studying, working and then retiring. I felt i wanted something different in my life, i felt i wasn't born to just produce, and consume, and amass material wealth, and die.
By chance, i picked up a copy of Rolf Pott's Vagabonding in a public library, and it was it then, that i decided, life is an open road, there is so much more we can do and explore in life - it is a journey, an epic of infinite opportunities and possibilities. Then i started reading on travel literature - having tea with the Bedouin in the desert, mushing through the Yukon, captivated me. This, i decided, was what i want to do, it was what i found joy and exuberance in. What i tell myself, is that in 60 years time, the stories i want to be telling was of how i found my own paradise in a beach off the coast of Burma, how i got lost in the mazy streets of Cairo and trekked all the way up Mt. Kinabalu to see the sun rise. Not how i bought my first BMW, or how i bought my first property and grew my portfolio. Although some people may derive pleasure in that. To each his own, i say. Im thankful ive found what i want to do, what i seek for in life.