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Published: December 21st 2011
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Having hung in a hammock for three days in the Laos Four Thousand Islands, the chaotic Cambodian city of Kratie came as a bit of a shock to the system.
Stepping off the bus in the middle of the sprawling, and not-so-pleasant-smelling market, we were beside the mega Mekong River once again; it was becoming like an old friend. Although this was no quiet and intimate reunion, as even though the spectacular and uninterrupted sunset shimmered to a close on the water (see pic of Marta la guapa), the constant hum of motorbikes, market haggling and honking horns was impossible to ignore. But, in one little moment of loveliness, a young girl approached us, beamed a massive toothy smile at Marta, and then extended her tiny arm to reveal a little welcome present in her hand. Her grip slowly loosened as she put it in Marta´s hand; her eyes wide and her face stern, as if concentrating on what she was about to say; “Apple” she smiled, and stood back proudly.
“For me? Wow! Thank you! Thank you very much” said Marta, with a distinct Teesside twang, and off the little girl went, giggling as she skipped, and with
not even a hint of expecting anything in return. Welcome to Cambodia.
We spent a day attempting to spot some rare Irrawaddy dolphins and tuk tukking our way through some truly beautiful rice villages outside of Kratie along the Mekong. While the dolphins could be described as ‘shy’ (to say the least –blink and you miss ‘em) the same could not be said about the super-friendly local villagers. At this point readers, I’d like you to try something for me. Look around you, maybe you’re in the office, maybe you´re on the tube reading this on your phone, maybe you´re sat at home in your underpants with a cup of tea –it doesn´t matter. Just shout, as loud as you can the word “Hello”. Ready? After three: One, two, three, GO! Rubbish. I mean really shout like you mean it. GOOOOO! Better, definitely better, but still nowhere near the volume or the level of excitability that the average Cambodian kid can boast, whenever a westerner is within 100 metres. We felt like celebrities: We had teenagers racing (and children chasing) our tuk tuk, younger kids risking a bicycle crash to ‘double hand wave’ at us, toddlers running down stilted-house
steps, and even little ones screaming from the rice fields with big ‘SOS “We´re overhere” ’ waves. Of course, we waved back like crazed idiots and “Heloooooo-ed” back just as many times as we had it yelled at us. And we smiled.
We stopped to try some local village food and were rewarded with sticky rice, beans and coconut served in a peel-able bamboo cylinder. It was lovely, but not nearly as lovely as the family who served us it from the roadside. I never knew that people with so few teeth could still smile so widely. The villagers smiled and stared at us in equal measure and it made me a little uneasy. “Marta, why are they staring me right in the eye?” I said, still smiling, but feeling countless pairs of eyes fixed on mine. “Well,” she said softly, aIso smiling, “I don’t think they see many pairs of blue eyes around here.” And they stared closer, and smiled even more and my pointless paranoia subsided as we munched on our sticky rice.
Marta dined on her free Cambodian apple after we crossed-country to Siem Reap, and it was time to do some proper tourism at
the ‘8
th wonder of the world’ at Angkor. We were well advised beforehand to have a full camera battery for this magnificent (and HUGE) collection of temples- the early alarm clock at 4am was horrendous, but as we pedalled our $1 hired bicycles up to Angkor Wat for sunrise; it was well worth it, and a happy snappy camera day ensued. See pics below.
Having stopped at the brilliantly-named Battambang to ride the globally-unique Bamboo Train (see pic of me helping to put it together track-side) we arrived in the capital Phonm Penh and had an opportunity to put things in perspective. Having watched ‘The Killing Fields’ film beforehand, and done a bit of background reading to learn about the horrendous rule of the Khmer Rouge; a brutal and barbaric regime which ripped Cambodia apart in the late 1970s, we felt that we were quite well prepared to visit the two tragic historical sites, but how wrong we were. The fields themselves, with accompanying information centre and the S-21 prison (a former school converted by the KR into a place of mass torture and killing) with its no-nonsense, propaganda-free facts really hit home. Humbled and thoughtful, we remained speechless
for several hours.
As we headed ever closer to towards the Vietnam border, we stopped for a motorbike exploration day in Kampot, a sleepy, smiley sort of place randomly famed for its salt and pepper plantations. As seasoned (get it?) bikers we filled up with petrol from a roadside petrol station –well, I say station –brilliantly just a lady at the roadside with old Pepsi bottles full of gas (see pic).
We adeptly biked to the salt and pepper plantations, around them, through them (see pic) and then promptly got lost. We were trying to find a little beach that we’d heard about nearby, but instead we found ourselves in a dusty little village (where street stalls were selling pepper believe it or not) and were staring at a kind of crudely-constructed barrier across the road in front of us. Hopping off the bike for a closer look over the barrier allowed us to realise that we were more lost than we thought. We were just 50 metres from Vietnam. The barrier was the border. Oops. Bueno, no pasa nada, at least we knew the way for tomorrow, and off we went back into Cambodia, honking our horn
as much as we could (‘when in Rome’ and all that). Incidently, honking here was constant –honk to say “I´m here so don’t crash into me”, honk to say “good morning whities on the bike” and of course, honk to say “get out my way you clueless westerners with the uncool helmets”. The Cambodians are supremely talented at carrying things on their bikes though; among the things we witnessed strapped to the back of bikes; pigs (both alive and dead), ducks, hundreds of wicker baskets (see pic), logs, fmailies of six and a fridge freezer. Yes, a fridge freezer, stood upright, on its end, on the back of a motorbike. Genius.
Before heading into Vietnam we had time to eat some superb fresh crab (that we actually saw being caught in the sea, just 10 metres from our table –see pic) and several amazingly tasty Khmer curries before finally get stared at beyond all belief on Kep beach. This tiny slither of sand in the charming seaside town of Kep is, it seems, something of a tourist attraction for the locals. Not the beach itself you understand, just the white, western bodies that grace it (‘grace’ in the loosest
possible sense in my case). Never have I felt more self-conscious than when I de-robed in front of hundreds of Cambodian locals all sitting on the prom wall, staring at me, and at Marta, and at the other western sun-worshippers around us. Check the pic.
Cambodia is definitely a nation of starers; but somehow if they do it with a smile, which of course they do, they get away with it easily. Such endearing people, some of whom have lived through unthinkable, unimaginable hell, and frighteningly recently too. We had loved it from start to finish, and were now looking forward to the next the chapter of our south-east Asia journey in Vietnam. Stay tuned for more.
Until next time dear readers,
Mike x
P.S. I should say thanks to everyone who’s commented on the blog so far –I only just worked out how to do it myself! Keep ‘em coming!
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mum
non-member comment
these blogs are a delight to read Mike - they get better & better!i know i\'m your mum so I\'m biased but you have a great talent for engaging the reader-a career in travel journalism is something you should consider!