Everything? No, but something, Bankok to Angkor

To explain our time in Bangkok, I must go to India. In 2000, in a fog bound Darjeeling, I met a man called Alan Horowitz. A buddhist, a former jew, (can you ever be former?) a thinker, a resident of Taipei, (Taiwan-China) a thoroughly clever man, but most importantly a kind and decent man. He was accompanied by his partner PeiYen, a beautiful quiet lady and who carried an ancient Nikon. Very rarely she would use it; but only with black and white film. She was a photographer in the true sense of the word. I was in Darjeeling to see the Himalayas and trek. The fog removed the view of the mountains and the drizzle took away the desire to walk.

Eventually James and I went to Sikkim. James used to be an officer on nuclear ballistic missile submarines. We met while diving in a small island called Rarotonga. (www.ci-divers.co.ck) I find that many of my friends come from diving. Our minibus descended to a river to the Sikkim border and climbed up to the former mountain kingdom. We arrived in Phelling. We were hoping to find peace and high mountains. Instead we met more Isrealis. Indeed with the exception of one self satisfied Englishman, we met only Isrealis. One day we hiked with them. The Isreali girls did not like me, and nor did the English shit. James and I realised that we should have ignored the weather, paid the money, procured a guide and porters in Darjeeling and disappeared up the high mountains away from the children of Israel. We moved on to Gangtok, where my on off girlfriend decided she wanted to sleep with someone else and felt the urge to tell me all about her intentions. I walked out of the internet café, spat on the pavement and cursed life. Finally I got the runs. I was not happy.

When returned to Darjeeling days later. My guts made a partial recovery and so James and I retired to our usual outdoor bakery for coffee, cakes and James’s celebration of my lack of humour. Rather incredibly Alan and PeiYen wandered up. They had decided to stay a few days longer. Between James’s incessant ribbing, Alan’s sense of humour and PeiYen’s choice words of wisdom, I started to see the funny side of life. On our last day, the sun burned the clouds away and Kanchenjunga appeared in her full glory. No dawn trips were necessary, she was visible from every coffee shop and bakery in town. At this point I got Alan’s address.
“I like letters” Said Alan. “I don’t really care for emails. With a letter I take it out, I read it, I put it away. Then I re-read it and I think very carefully before I pen my response.”
I liked writing letters so this did not seem like a hardship.

Our holiday time was over, and so I went back to my small Island off the coast of Africa (www.swahilidivers.com) and James went back to working for a company in Seattle. Neither of us sat still for long. I crossed the sahara, got married (not to the now ex, -girlfriend) built a beach resort and returned to the Himalayas many more times. James re-joined the US Navy and after a year driving a desk, volunteered to go to Iraq. Wherever I went, I carried on writing to Alan. I would scribble on paper and he would email his response.

Eventually I started emailing him and our correspondence accelerated. A few months ago, I was trying to explain a certain feeling of India to Alan. The uniqueness of the subcontinent, with its light, climate, smell, and frustrations are hard to explain. He replied with words similar to these:
“True enough- India is everything and anything, to anyone”

Yesterday I was trying to describe Bangkok. “Bangkok is unique, it has markets and food, service, a large river and of course a huge and beautiful temple in every neighbourhood. But it is definitely not everything, and not anything. It is merely something” And that sums up Bangkok. A vibrant, modern, safe city, packed with cultural sights, dark smelly markets, multi ethnic asian communities and flocks of crested mynas sitting on the roof of wat po. After three days of wandering aimlessly, eating and riding the river boats, our visas for the Socialist Republic of Vietnam were issued. It was time to go and I was not sorry. Bangkok had served its purpose.

To Cambodia
There is a certain righteousness to overland travel. One always feels as though one has achieved something when one rolls through a country in a rickety old bus, or a clatters along a river on a noisy train, leaning out of the window to look at the trees. The self righteousness is enhances when borders are crossed. Standing in the sun, waiting for a stamp or a visa. Dealing with useless or corrupt immigration officers. Carrying one’s backpack between countries and pick up trucks. There is of course a price to pay. All of this can be bothersome and difficult. When Cisca and I planned this journey, the idea was definitely to overland it from Bankok to Beijing. It had a certain Ring to it.

After much discussion and to our shame, we shied away from the 14 hours train-walk-bus routine and booked two plane tickets to Siem Reap.
“Overland from Angkor” I said. “Well at least as much as possible”
“Agreed” Cisca replied. And so after two hours sleep we climbed into a taxi and took a predawn ride through Bangkok. There was no traffic so the 90 minute journey took 32. The driver avoided most of the motorways and their tolls. We quickly walked into the ultra new Bangkok Airport and checked in. Much to my surprise, the airport, while slick looking, was chronically inefficient. Three ladies checked in every Bangkok Airways flight. Ten check in desks stood empty while other staff members chatted or talked to clients. The queues built up needlessly. Immigration was no better. Many desks stood empty and there was no feeder system. The lines of slowly shuffling passengers reminded me of India in the 1970’s. I bought a book on Thai birds, ate some excellent fried rice and boarded the plane to Cambodia. The sign said Boeing 717, but the plane was really an old DC9. We were delayed by clients that did not turn up, and everyone except me seemed to fall asleep. Eventually we were pushed back and taxied for 30 minutes. Plane after plane took off in front of us. The dc9 shuffled forward like the immigration queue and eventually took off. The haze disappeared and I tried to sleep. I started feeling more righteous. Surely being messed around had to count for something?

The 35 minute flight was short, Cisca and the entire plane slept. Passengers lolled around in their seats with their mouths open. Of course I could not sleep; there was simply so much going in in my mind. Cambodia in 2001. had been one of the most formative that I had ever had, the evidence of destruction was so prevalent. The travellers that I met were tough, ingenious people who would endure great hardship in their travels, simply because there was no other option. I looked back at the lolling heads and saw that the backpackers of the world carried credit cards and did not like rusty pick up trucks. Soon we were descending. I woke Cisca up and she glanced at tonle sap lake. I looked out of the window and as we descended the haze cleared slightly. All I could see were brown padi fields for miles. I wondered would I find on arrival?

The simple answer was a very bad landing. We bounced on the ground but too lightly, the wind caught us and we lifted again and flew forward for many metres. We slammed down again harder and slowed.

Siem Reap.
The taxi ride into town was a stark indicator of the way Siem Reap had changed. The town is now full of concrete hotels. On my previous visit armed with no guidebook, there were two choices. The Raffles hotel and a series of 6$ per night backpackers. Now there were Dubai style gold an concrete structures everywhere. Even the prison has moved so that a hotel can take its place. We had tried to book in various places, but they had either been full, or they had closed down. We eventually used hotels.com to find a $30 room in a hotel that charged $50. But the hotel was full of package tourists. I felt slightly like a round peg in square hole, but the air-conditioning and BBC TV made up for this.

Any feelings of righteousness evaporated immediately.

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