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Published: February 20th 2007
Sunset at Kratie
A sunset over water is always something to behold, particularly when you come from the east coast as I do.I apologise to you all for being so tardy in updating this journal; it has simply been too expensive to use the internet over the last two weeks. As such, I have a backlog of quasi-interesting stories for you to read (a good excuse to bludge at work, right?), and due to Pedro’s comments I shall try to keep them in chronological order where possible.
Kratie
Soon after Jeff’s departure from the holiday, Alex and I headed into northern Cambodia to the town of Kratie. I was under the impression that we would still be well within the Cambodian tourist loop as Kratie is one of the few places where it is still possible to see the Irawaddy dolphins; a unique species which only lives in the lower stretches of the Mekong. Much to our surprise however, the town was quiet (apart from the two TV bars outside our guesthouse window, each of which contained not one blaring television but four of them lined up next to each other set to different channels. It was impossible to sleep while they were open and I am unable to fathom how people can watch shows there without being distracted by the
An Irawaddy Dolphin
One of 100 photos I took within an hour. three competing noise sources). In comparison to Phnom Penh or the other tourist capitals the tourists were no-where to be seen, and in our time there Alex and I only met four other travellers.
Now, as for the exciting part of Kratie and, as it was, the only reason for our being there, the dolphins were unbelievable. To see the creatures you take a half-hour moto ride north of the town centre to a boat landing (built by an Australian aid organisation, good on us). You then board a boat expecting to go on an hour long cruise up to some secluded part of the Mekong where you may get to see one dolphin if you are lucky. Well, that is definitely what we were expecting, but in the true spirit of travel, expectations were nothing more than a waste of time. The boat driver moved us out into the stream, no more than 50 m from shore, and then promptly turned off the engine.
“What? Do you seriously believe that you’re just going to leave us within swimming distance of shore where there is Buckley’s chance of us seeing a dolphin for a whole hour and then
Dolphins Approaching the Boats
As I said, the dolphins really do come right up next to the boats to have a look. take us back to shore?”
I was just about convinced that it was all a part of a scam whereby they save petrol by just not even bothering to look for the dolphins when a splash was heard from the left side of the boat. Not twenty metres away a dolphin had just surfaced. Shortly after a second dolphin appeared nearby, then a third and a fourth. All of a sudden we were surrounded. Dolphins were playing, feeding, swimming side-by-side in perfect unison. It was unbelievable that such a rare animal could be so freely found, further, it appeared that the dolphins were coming to see us. We were the tourist attraction here as the dolphins playfully breached the water almost within arms reach of our boat, just to see the silly falangs (lao word for foreigners) in their river.
We left the river after our hour in a totally uplifted mood, feeling supremely blessed that we had seen these wonderful animals that may soon become extinct. Let us hope that all the preservation efforts underway succeed so that others can see what Alex and I saw that day.
So that is the end of Kratie, right?
Photographer Extraordinaire
Alex capturing the "dolphin moments". People go to Kratie for the dolphins and then return to Phnom Penh, that is just what tourists do round there, but Alex and I searched out a little more adventure for ourselves. There is a small temple on a hill between Kratie town and the dolphin-watching pier, which has a relatively commanding view over a sweeping bend of the Mekong. We expected our stop there to be totally uneventful, just one more temple to add to our growing collection. Presumably due to the destruction reined down upon Cambodian Buddhism during the Khmer Rouge era, most temple art and decoration has been recently renovated. The art-work on the temple near Kratie was a sight to behold, a mix of contemporary imagery and classical Buddhist forms. As per most Cambodian temples the art was formed in a triad, with Heaven painted on the roof, the world of Buddha himself painted high on the wall and hell painted at the bottom. The image of a woman being fed beer until she explodes as a form of hell will stick with me for a long time, as will the spiky tree onto which the women were forced by men with sticks and rabid
More Dolphins
They've got teeth like... They can jump like... Just look at the bones! dogs. Every sin that the monks must avoid was vividly depicted as the painful reality of hell replete with beheadings, wanton torture, some obscure hells which we could not comprehend, and the devil himself playing Santa Claus and deciding which torture was befitting of each sinner.
The pictures of Heaven were nice too.
Alone
The day after the dolphin/hell experience (perhaps I could open a tour company with that name) Alex left for Bangkok and then Australia, what with uni starting back for him. That left me to travel alone across this grand world, alone and lonely. Yeah right! Not a single second had passed before I was chatting with an Australian girl that I had met the night before (Liz the naturopath) over breakfast. It just happened that she walked along the street at precisely the moment that Alex and I had said our goodbyes, a coincidence I must presume.
But then, everything must come to an end, and in this case the moment was decided by the arrival of my share taxi to Ban Lung in Ratanakiri province (far north-eastern Cambodia). So I left Liz and was alone and lonely. Yeah right! Within
Alex in Hell
The temple paintings near Kratie. five minutes there were three wonderful French people sharing the back seat with me, a couple and their friend who had been travelling the world together for many months. I ended up sharing a room for a couple of nights with the trio as we all got along fantastically and I keep running into them as I travel further north.
On a quick aside I must describe that first share taxi for you all, along with a few other sample of local transport in these parts. In a standard Camry we managed to fit nine people. That is, we had four westerners crammed onto the back seat and five Cambodians in the front; not even the driver got a whole seat to himself! What’s more is that all of our luggage was somehow fitted into the boot of the car. I can handle being in a cramped car for a while, I can get over the total lack of safety and I can ignore the glaring fact that an accident would spell certain doom for us all when necessary. I just can not handle it for six hours; that was just too long.
To make up for that
Waterfall in Ratanakiri
So much water in such a dry area. uncomfortable journey (my left leg remained numb for 12 hours following the taxi ride) the return taxi to Stung Treng two days later was the ultimate in comfort as there were only two passengers and two blocks of ice in the car. Ahh, such a hard life I lead.
So, you think nine people in one car is a lot? Try 22 people, each of who carries a full backpack or two, plus whatever local produce can be fitted, plus a full gas tank, all fitted into the back of a truck (Seoung Thaeow ). Such a vehicle would be absolutely, totally illegal in Australia. So unbelievably dangerous and uncomfortable, yet at the same time the trip was a great deal of fun. Perhaps I like living on the edge.
Getting back to my point (what little point I initially had), I have seldom been alone so far, and I actually had to willing search for some alone time in a couple of places just to see what it was like. In southern Laos every traveller seems to follow a set path, either north or south, so as you journey along you accrue a larger group of friends
The First Waterfall
Only 5km from Ban Lung and you find this, how could I resist riding further afield? so that wherever you go you will always know someone. And then you get introduced to their friends and so on, it is impossible to be lonely here unless you actively try, and why would I do that?
There is one small problem though, most everyone travelling here speaks French, or at least the type of people I associate with do (there are always young English and Australian hooligans around but I steer clear). I don’t mind French people, actually they all seem to be really friendly, but when you sit at a table where the only conversation is in French you start to feel left out (rightfully so I believe). A swiss-german friend of mine agrees with me on this point and we have started enforcing a rule wherby we all must speak in the language which we are all equally proficient in, Lao. That leads to some very stunted conversations. As I travel though I am picking up little bits of several languages so I am now able to go through at least one basic conversation with everyone I meet, it goes like this:
Them: Do you speak (insert tricky foreign language here)
Me: No
Noro and a Typical Road
That is Noro the every stoic bicycle posing in front of a fairly flat section of road, some parts were much worse than this. At least I can say that much in their language. At least I can talk properly to all the Chinese tour groups that are around here (they actually understand me quite well and one guy inquired into where I learnt Mandarin so well).
Norodom Invades Ratanakiri
I headed to Ban Lung for two reasons. Firstly, I wanted to get off the tourist track completely, so completely that I could go a whole day without seeing a westerner. Secondly, the bank in Kratie informed me that there was an ATM in Ban Lung, a fact which was surprising in the extreme due to the total backwater-ness of Ban Lung but worth looking into (the Australian guy from the previous journal entry had failed to return our money and without ATM’s in northern Cambodia Alex and I had run rather low on money). With the decision made I headed north into the dirty “wild-west” of Cambodia.
Ratanakiri is dirty. Really dirty. Trees are not green there; they are red due to the covering of dust. Dry, dusty, lacking any sign of water; this was what greeted us as we arrived in Ban Lung. I liked it immediately, so
More "Road"
The further I rode from Ban Lung, the worse the roads became. This was the wet part of the road, I didn't dare take my camera out in the dry areas as the dust would have gotten straight into it. to fulfil my first aim in Ratankiri I hired a bicycle and headed for the mythical waterfalls.
Noro (my bicycle, named after Prince Norodom of Cambodia - now the king. It was a name befitting of the noble role he was to play in my invasion of Ratankiri yet still humble enough to let him know that I was in charge of the expedition) and I set out in the early morning light with a simple aim: to go and see the waterfalls in the most unbefitting manner possible. Most people take four wheel drives or motorbike tours, not road-racing bicycles with only one gear (and not the gear most appropriate for the task at hand either!), but this was an invasion! No practicalities were going to stop us as we hit the dirt roads, covered in bull-dust six inches thick with potholes the size of Volkswagens, and headed out.
The roads in Ratanakiri are the worst I have seen anywhere, they are nothing more than bush tracks, usually with two ruts for the wheels of a car and nothing more. Large rocks cover the path and the occasional wash-out can be found; it would be fantastic four
Tier One of Seven
The glorious waterfall at the end of our invasion. wheel drive territory. Now, the first waterfall is only 4km from town down some “good” roads (I.e. mostly flat) and we made it there in good time. As I mentioned, Ratanakiri is dry, very dry. The thought of a waterfall is ludicrous, but then, out of the blue you are surrounded by lush jungle with a roaring 10m high waterfall in front of your face. With a minute the landscape transforms from a near martian wasteland to tropical paradise; a truly remarkable sight to behold.
I do not mean any disrespect to the first waterfall, but it is a tourist haven being so close to town, so onward went the invasion to the second waterfall which was supposedly 2km further down the road. “What? A three way intersection? This isn’t on my map!” With no locals around I chose the biggest road and headed onwards, blissfully happy to be in the wilds. After a few kilometres I met some locals and played charades; the internationally recognised gestures for “can I have the bill please” or “get lost you drongo (words changed for the sake of polite society)” are fairly well understandable wherever you go, but have you tried to
Me in Cambodian Makeup
My face after the bike ride and before the swim. do “waterfall”? It took a lot of practice and patience before the local man vaguely pointed down a road to the falls; people round Ratanakiri speak French as a second language, not English, so I was cursing my colonial heritage at this point. However, the invasion must continue and it was only early morning still, so Noro and I charged headlong down the road past row after row of plantation pines and rubber trees.
Shortly after, we arrived at another intersection and again asked for directions. A vague gesture this way, some scribbled maps here, a rough indication of distance which could have been measured in minutes, kilometres or elephants for all I knew, and away we went. This was when the roads went bad.
The roads turned into truly horrendous tracks, game trails even. Large hills at 45 degrees appeared as the road headed down to a village, Noro’s chain kept slipping when we hit a big bump, potholes morphed into the more accurate description of impact craters. Nevertheless we pushed onwards, the waterfall couldn’t be that far could it? The crude map said 5km and we had already travelled at least that. Onwards, onwards, always forwards
we pushed, following directions and giggles wherever we went. Every child ran out waving and yelling the few English words they knew, “hello”, “good morning”, “what your name”. At this point I realised that the directions I had been getting were not to the second waterfall but rather to the third, some 30km further along the track. This was a lot further than our planned invasion, but Hannibal would not have turned back so neither would we!
A new charade game began as I tried to find some lunch; you would think that rubbing one’s belly and mimicking eating would be self-explanatory. In Cambodia that mean “I want a coca-cola”. “No, you don’t want a coke? But you are western, don’t you live on the stuff? Perhaps some water?” They could not fathom the concept of food! Oh well, starvation never killed anyone, oh… This adventure continued for some five hours as Noro and I worked together, each giving everything we had to get up and down mountains, across streams, through the mud and dust, around the craters, and towards the waterfall. Eventually all was lost; the waterfall was truly a figment of a deranged imagination, a place that
Worthwhile
As hard and trying the day was, this sunset made it all worthwhile. And then some. was put on maps to make everyone feel that there was more to see but a place where no tour guide would take you. I sat down at another of the dozens of cross-roads to drink the last of my water before turning around for the long and shameful ride home. Noro beside me, forever stoic, showed no such signs of weakness; ready to continue the punishment well into the night even if it meant an accidental crossing into Vietnam (we were after all only 50km from the border in Ban Lung). Just as all was lost a motorbike arrived and I hailed him over to ask the distance to Ban Lung. 28km he said and showed me his odometer to prove it. Bugger, that is a very long way to ride on an empty stomach on a bike with one gear, even if it was a steed such as Noro. Luckily however, he also told me (not in words mind you) that there was a town not two kilometres down the road where I could eat. Newly energised I continued to the town - a gem mining village - in search of tucker.
At the town I found
More Ratanakiri Sunset
I was trying to recapture an image from "Long Way Round", one of my inspirations for this trip. a small restaurant (with edible food, no other description is fitting). The proprietor tried to talk to me, in French of course, to no avail as he genuinely interested in what I was doing in his small town so far from civilisation with nothing more than a bicycle. To satisfy his whim he drove me down to the local school where a English teacher delighted in talking to me. This was the first English I had head in hours and it was quite refreshing to have accurate information. I found that the waterfall, the mysterious distant ones, were only 2km out of town and furthermore, a man there was going to drive back to Ban Lung in his truck within the next 40 minutes! Quickly I raced to the waterfalls, leaving Noro at the restaurant and taking the motorbike in order to save time, to be faced with the most glorious sight in all the world (exaggeration pending international critique over the coming 12 months). The waterfall comprised seven tiers in a semicircle around a mountain, each fall itself 50m across and 10m high and impressive in its own right. One after another they cascaded around me, refreshing every part
Mekong Waterfall
This is the large waterfall which is right on the border between Cambodia and Laos. Well worth the $1 entry fee. of me as I beheld them. Even if they were separated and right next to the bus stop I would have been awestruck, but to find them all together at the end of a 30km off-road biking adventure in the wildest back-waters of South-East Asia made the moment so supremely inspiring that I lack the talent to truly describe how I felt right then. If only I could have lingered, but my ride to Ban Lung was leaving and away I had to go. Back to the restaurant on motorbike and then up the hill to the school on Noro, arriving just in time to be loaded onto the truck and driven away from that place.
The drive back to town took two and a half hours in itself, a testament to the challenging terrain, and I spent the entire time in the tray of the truck trying to find a small bit of comfort. Noro seemed perfectly content to lie still the whole way, but then again, he is made of metal so he had little choice in the matter. To finish the day, as the sun was due to set in an hour or so, I decided
... Really Big Waterfall
After climbing over some rocks I got this view of the falls. to head to the crater lake which is some 5 km east of Ban Lung along the main road and bathe the day’s trials from my flesh. Noro again provided the most faithful and dependable steed in all Cambodia (for a bicycle of his calibre he was totally unflappable, many a bike would have suffered some breakdown for sure) and I arrived at the lake to find my French friends sitting on the pier enjoying the late afternoon cool beside the lake. At first they did not recognise me but then Thomas exclaimed at the mere sight of my face; I had become “Cambodian” (see photo on side). After all, Ratanakiri is dirty.
As I headed home - after a most refreshing swim of course - the sun was setting over the town making the most befitting end to my adventure-filled day, as the sun came down in red and orange I headed west feeling totally content. I had been alone, away from tourists, away from English, away from the west, right where I wanted to be. But just for a day, not for ever.
Don Det
Following the adventures of Ban Lung I headed back
View From a Hammock
This view kept me relaxed for six days, the river on the left is for swimming, the bakery on the right is for fattening. to civilisation and north to Laos, in particular to Don Det. At the very southern extremity of Laos the Mekong spreads to a width of several kilometres and thousands of islands are to be found (the area is know as Si Phan Don which literally means 4000 islands). Towards the southern end of this area is Don Det, a large island for the area where there are bungalows, hammocks, no electricity unless you have a generator and not much else. I felt that such a place was the perfect locale in which to recover from my biking adventure; hammocks are blissful in the extreme.
Arriving on Don Det I set out to find my paradise, my idyllic bungalow, and boy did I hit the jackpot. After walking for some five minutes I passed a small restaurant, sign-less and quiet with four small wooden bungalows next door. The river passed not three meters from the door of the bungalows and each hut had a hammock swinging out front. As I entered an Australian man came up and gruffly asked if I was looking for a room, I said I was and had a look around quickly deciding that I had
Late Afternoon on Don Det
Ahhh, the tough life of the traveller. found perfection. But then the clincher, the Australian guy ran a bakery in the restaurant (a Lao style bakery - very lazy, it only opened at 3pm on the days when he felt like baking). Every afternoon I could come down from my hammock and eat a chocolate cake or a foccacia, or both. There was nothing more that I could have wanted, so I stayed for several days more than I had initially intended.
Don Det is perfection itself, a Vang Vieng before it went bad, idyllic, quiet, lazy, beautiful at every turn. How could one leave such a place? The answer I am afraid is: with great difficulty; I literally had to drag myself away one morning while I still had the energy to move away from my hammock. As there is no electricity things generally finish early and a lot of time gets spent with a book and a candle. This was a very nice change, but I made the mistake of having a bad book, it was totally unreadable in fact. I substituted reading with sleeping though with similar relaxational effect.
This is not to say there is nothing to do near Don Det.
Sunset Strip
One the western side of Don Det there are several guesthouses which enjoy beautiful sunsets every night. I went kayaking one day and bike riding another. There are some beautiful waterfalls nearby which one found difficult to comprehend considering the immensity of the Mekong. One waterfall is even referred to as the Niagara of the Mekong with not too much overstatement. But in reality it is the hammocks that I remember, the lazy afternoons chatting with my friends from the bakery or the bungalows, and also the lazy swimming to cool down.
Now, Lao culture is very different from what we are used to. Things are very relaxed, even lazy, on Don Det. You cannot be in a hurry there, and if you are bad things will come of it. If you try to ride the local bicycles too quickly they promptly lose their chain and force you to stop; if you ride at Lao pace you will have no worries. I liked it that way, the island looks after itself and keeps everything in that relaxing groove which is what makes Don Det so wonderful.
One last thing, here is an answer a friend of mine was given when she asked to use the internet at a tour agency: "Sorry, we don't have any
And Another
Sorry, but I just really love sunsets. You'll have to get used to it. petrol for the computer". Generators do pose some interesting problems.
Escape From Don Det
Eventually I had to leave Don Det, lethargy and slothfulness were encroaching on my travelling spirit and if I had not left when I did I may have spent my entire life on the island. To appease my wanderlust I headed north to Champasak and then on to Pakse. Ever since Phnom Penh I have been trying to take a boat cruise up the Mekong; just to get a glimpse of riverside life and the thrilling nature of that majestic river. Alas, every boat company is closing down as busses are simply too cheap nowadays. No one would take me unless I chartered a whole boat for $30 or more, until Champasak.
Champasak was nice in itself but I could not stay there more than a night. I needed to get to a city quickly to “recover” my civilisation spirits post Don Det. Champasak has a delightful Khmer temple on a mountain (a mountain was a new sight actually, everything is very flat from here down to the ocean), however, I found it more interesting to sit on a rock high above
Beerlao
The best beer in Asia, and a sunset as well! Yippee! the temple while observing the Thai tourists frolicking around the ruins.
Oh, on a quick aside, the Lao concept of restoration is rather unique. Wat Phou (the Khmer temple) is dedicated to Shiva Lingas (phalluses) and a spring was routed to the temple to bathe the statues. The spring water is now collected by two pieces of corrugated iron and routed via blue PVC pipe to a new monastery as a source of drinking water. The blue piping really spoils the ancient feel that Khmer temples usually exude.
As I mentioned, a boat was heading from Champasak to Pakse. Not that anyone knew about it, I actually went to the Tourist Information Centre at opening time to ask about it: the guy who ran the place didn’t arrive until someone rang him and even then all he did was unlock the door and leave. I was left alone at the information desk, presumably he expected that I would either find what I was after by rummaging through his papers or steal everything. Either way he didn’t really care. Eventually he did return and was of no help as he said boats cost $35 to travel the 30km distance. Nevertheless,
Ok, This is the Last One
Just before the sun dipped over the neighbouring island. a boat does run! A Pakse based tour company ferries tourists down to Champasak but people rarely make the return voyage; I simply jumped on the boat as it was heading back upstream and was the only passenger. Absolute luxury I must admit, a whole boat to myself for only $5!
Pakse
Well that puts you all fairly well up to date. I am now in Pakse which is a delightful French-colonial town. I found a coffee shop which makes proper cappuchinos and there is a bakery nearby which is apparently worth visiting. Plus I have a few friends who will be arriving in the next few days so I think I shall linger here before heading east to the Bolaven Plateau.
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Lloydy
non-member comment
matty, devastating news... noro is just a bike. you sound like tom hanks with wilson in castaway...