Battambang takes some getting used to. Actually, it takes a lot of getting used to. Cambodia’s second largest city is dusty and grimy. Some patience wouldn’t hurt to ease into the dirt, fumes, and noise pollution. The provincial capital has little going for it. While small enough, there are no street signs or traffic lights. Battambang does not spiral out from any particular center roundabout. Its two markets are about as grungy and distasteful as they come, even for Cambodia. There are no proper sit-down restaurants with indoor dining rooms. The city hasn’t a single [View Full Entry]

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Arrival into Phnom Penh from Sihanoukville is not very kind on the eyes, or heart for that matter. A steady stream of southbound ocean containers gives way to ice cube tray buildings of repair shops with a disorganized grouping of unlabeled commodities. Wooden planks span the ditch between the street and side access road. Below the planks is where weeks of garbage settle to remain there for an indefinite period of time. The rotting vegetable matter is biodegradable; one day soon enough the earth will reclaim it. The same cannot be said for the millions of plastic bags and styrofoam boxes [View Full Entry]

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With no competition except for a bus route which takes the same four hours, Cambodians and foreigners alike, have no choice to pay the astronomical twenty dollar fare for the boat out of Koh Kong. Having taken a look around the center of Koh Kong after my painful twelve dollar taxi ride from the border resort, the price is a bargain. I would pay double to be elsewhere. The boat is a high speed dolphin variety I recall from hopping years ago from one Aegean island to another. Dockworkers load the roof of the vessel with sacks of provisions: detergent, vegetables, [View Full Entry]

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It is a tough task to understand how dodgy a third-world border town can become until stuck there overnight. The frontier between Thailand and Cambodia is open during sunlight hours, and for good reason. For as dodgy as it is during the day, even the border guards and customs officers leave when the sun goes down. Ban Hat Lek meets Cham Yeam where Thailand’s eastern shore can no longer penetrate into Cambodian territory. Cham Yeam is a one-purpose town with a handful of buildings to support the entry process. Curiously, none of the buildings house a currency exchange to buy Cambodia [View Full Entry]

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War is a haunting nightmare that some men are doomed never to extinguish for the rest of their lives. “I am not a very trusting person anymore, Rich.” We both prefer the smaller green bottles of Chang Beer. However, I insist on the bottle insulator to keep the liquid chilled. Frank, on the other hand, downs his quickly enough to where it does not concern him. He has been drinking steadily ever since being discharged from the Marine Corps over forty years ago. He never fit in when trying to find his niche in Guatemala, New Zealand, Costs Rica, Mexico, or [View Full Entry]

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Only after having spent time in a neighboring country does one begin to understand how truly advanced Thailand is. As our coach left customs for the Thai side of the Friendship Bridge, it left behind Laos in the dark but for a few dim street lights and blinking red bulbs atop communication towers. The south side of the Mekong is lit up in neon signs for riverside restaurants. There are signs for railroad crossings, smoothly paved and painted roads, billboards, and a large number of bank machines. All indicate that an infrastructure is in place of which the Thais are proud [View Full Entry]

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There has never been any shame in admitting I have done it three times before. A dreadful stigma accompanies such a social gaffe in the United States. Yet while abroad, the rules are different. In the pursuit of greater cross-cultural understanding, both bride and groom have always been understanding when I show up to congratulate them on their new lives together. In each instance, I had no invitation. Ready for an early retirement, noise and bright lights pour out from a building I took as a discotheque when I first laid eyes on it in the early morning. UXO frames the [View Full Entry]

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Phonsavan goes beyond its permanently linked relationship with the stone, hollow receptacles that divert visitors from a well-marked course between Luang Prabang and Vientiane. Those who call upon the provincial capital of Xing Kuong are well rewarded with a more pure and more easily accessible look at Laos. In all its simplicity, Phonsavan is a happy place and though difficult to imagine, even less stressful than points north. But for perhaps the raw fish at the food market, it is an odorless city of one main drag and a few unceremonious perpendicular streets, newly paved. Newer and sturd [View Full Entry]

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When traversing Laos by bus, passengers receive a basic care package for the journey. It usually includes a bottle of water, a pre-packaged cake, or some cookies. My favorite so far has been the seaweed wafers with cream fillings from China. Without question, the most essential handout in the box is a thin plastic bag. An inordinate number of Laotians surprisingly suffer from motion sickness, a disastrous condition in a country where in certain places flat land has to be created by machines. The trip to Phonsavan from Luang Prabang is an eight-hour amusement park ride with just a few stop [View Full Entry]

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By the time I reached the top of the docks at Muang Ngoi, I was already convinced coming here was worth it. To provide some relief from the bare wooden planks of the boat’s floor, Valérie and I arranged our packs as cushions when boarding in Nong Kiow. The Hmong passengers en route to villages kilometers from their drop off point looked at us with minor curiosity. The scheduled ten thirty departure pulled out of Nong Kiow right on time, at eleven fifteen. Many native Hmong worked as a team to load the boat up with supplies, including those needed in [View Full Entry]

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