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Published: July 10th 2011
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Since leaving Siem Reap about 2 weeks ago it seems we have been slowly making our way north through a selection of one-street towns, each slightly more dusty and remote than the last. It all began in the south of Cambodia in Sihanoukville, where we headed for a couple of beach days to recharge our cultural batteries following our temple overdose at Angkor. The beach was sandy, the sun was hot and the beach BBQs each evening were a bargain at 3$. After three days though we decided to get going, and jumped on a bus for the faded colonial delights of Kampot. That particular phrase will crop up again and again in this blog. Kampot, to its credit, has more than one street. It may have as many as 6 actually, though most of them are empty, overgrown, rubble strewn and deserted. The area is famous for Kampot Pepper and not a lot else as far as we could tell. Admittedly the weather wasn't great which may have clouded our judgement, but we didn't linger and were soon on our way to Kep, a town of faded colonial delights apparently.
Kep was the playground of the rich and famous
under the French, they even renamed it as Kep sur Mer, imaginative lot the French. The town covers a stretch of coastline about 10km long and genuinely does comprise of one long street. Half of the road is paved and painted, the other half has been forgotten about I think. Kep has more to offer than Kampot in a sense, as it has a beach, though only a short 1km stretch. It also does a good line in spicy crab, using the pepper of neighbouring Kampot to good effect. Beyond that I'm struggling to tell you much more. It is tranquil and peaceful and ultimately a very pleasant place for a day or two, but make sure you remember where the bus stop is because sooner or later you'll be jumping on the next bus to Phnom Penh. Which is exactly what we did, though we only returned to the capital for about 16 hours, a guest appearance if you will, before jumping on another bus to Kratie, around 6 hours north east of Cambodia, and home to the largest group of Irrawaddy dolphins left in the world.
Kratie is another one street dust bowl of a town, though
it does sit on the east bank of the Mekong meaning that half the town at least has a nice view. We arrived at 3pm and by 3.30 were being rattled about in the back of a tuk tuk on our way to Kampi, the village closest to the dolphins. Irrawaddy dolphins hail originally from the river of the same name further north in Myanmar/Burma. A small group survive in the Mekong, split between southern Laos and northern Cambodia. Kampi is the best place to spot them as the group that lives there is far bigger than that in Laos, but ideally the dry season is the best time to go. However, since we don’t own one of those fancy (and make-believe) time-turner devices that appear in the Harry Potter books, we crossed our fingers and climbed into the boat. We were drifting in the middle of the river for about 10 minutes before our guide raised and arm and whispered “there…”. Not 15 feet away were two dolphins, surfacing intermittently as they swam upstream. Over the next hour or so we saw fleeting glimpses of around half a dozen dolphins, each surfacing a handful of times before disappearing. To
call them illusive is an understatement, but they are wild, endangered and ultimately not really for the amusement or entertainment of people. Still it was a magical experience, drifting silently on a wooden boat as their smooth grey bodies come into view every minute or so. There is a short video on our youtube page if you want to see for yourselves.
http://www.youtube.com/user/tdjclayton
If you are wondering about the curious title to this blog the reason is simple. My mum has a bit of a problem with new words (she is getting on bless her) and I think that Irrawaddy might prove troublesome. What normally happens, say with a word like “Spanish”, is this: The word is mentioned to my mum, and it goes in through her ears as “Spanish”. She repeats it once out loud, and it comes out ok. Then she waits a second, and says it again. “Stanish”. Then she realizes her mistake. “Slanish”. Wrong again. And so on. So, I can already picture the scene, she is at work on Monday morning, reads the blog and wants to tell her colleagues what her son is up to. “ooooh, you’ll never guess what Thomas (she
still calls me that) saw the other day”. Pause. Think of the word. IRRAWADDY. Pause. “Showaddawaddy Dolphins”. Cue much laughter in the office.
Now, for the second part of the title…..
The following day we decided to hire a motorbike and do some exploring. The plan was to ride 35km along the banks of the Mekong, cross over on a ferry, ride back on the other side, cross over again, and go for a meal when we got back. We were 90% successful in all of that, with the added bonus of a minor bike accident on the way home!
All was going well, we rode along the river, stopped to take some photos, visited a temple, had some lunch, waved at lots of kids, found the crossing point, waited while they unloaded the water buffalo, crossed the mighty Mekong, set off again, took more photos, then about 2km from the return leg of the ferry I spotted a child playing by the side of the road about 10 metres in front. We were only doing about 30km/h as it was an unpaved dirt road. 9.5metres all is well. 9metres no problem. At about the 5metre mark the
boy stood up and lifted his hand. In his hand was what looked like a wire, stretching across the road at about thigh height. Instinct took over and I braked hard. Too hard for a dirt road and the front wheel dug in and turned, tipping the bike and us over. Thankfully, we hit the ground at more like 2km/h than 30km/h and only suffered scraped knees. The bike was less fortunate, and to make things worse the boy wasn’t maliciously trying to decapitate us at all, he had merely picked up some kind of black plastic (like you would find in a tape cassette) that caught the breeze and stretched across the road. The benefits of hindsight eh? Still, the photos look particularly gruesome!
Unfortunately though it did mean that our plans for the next few days had to change. The original idea was to head further into the wilderness in northeastern Cambodia for a spot of jungle trekking. However, with what is best described as an open wound adorning my knee, we thought better of it. Flies, dirt, dust, leeches…..not a great plan evidently. So instead we settled for a tour of the area to see waterfalls,
jungles, and a lake in a volcanic crater. The tour was conducted on motorbike for the most part, with an hour or so on the back of an elephant! It is not every day you can say that! That all took place in and around a tiny, you’ve guessed it, one street town by the name of Ban Lung. From there we headed to the border, making a pit stop in Stung Treng for a night to break up the journey and add another town to the list of “one street towns displaying faded colonial charm”. I am not sure if the irony comes across well in a blog, but all that sentence really means is that these towns are awash with buildings in disrepair overlooking the river.
Apologies if this feels like a bit of a rushed way to finish Cambodia, but it mirrors our movements really. In 13 days we travelled from Siem Reap to Laos, by way of Sihanoukville, Kampot, Kep, Phnom Penh, Kratie, Ban Lung and Stung Treng. We didn’t plan to rush, but there wasn’t too much to keep us still along the way!
We are now in Pakse, southern Laos and slowly
100 column pagoda
but i only counted 96! heading north!
Until next time!
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Mary Clayton
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Showaddawosit thingymebobs
Here we go again having lunch at work and almost choking on my cheese and pickle sandwich (on brown bread to be a bit healthier) I hope you put some germolene on yours and Anjas wounds and will you keep away from motorbikes, I have always said they are dangerous!! Once again I found your blog very interesting but I will not be mentioning the dolphins at work as I can't pronouce whatever it is they are called. I can't help it I am a menopausal mother!!!!