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Published: February 7th 2007
Jeff and I with our Dream Cars
Backdated photo from Bangkok just to show that Jeff was actually travelling with us.Wednesday
When I woke up this morning, I heard a disturbing sound. I said, when I woke up this morning, I heard a disturbing sound!
The sound turned out to be Jeff, "Time to get up Matty, it's a quarter to six". Clearly, I went back to sleep rather prompty. On his second attempt Jeff did manage to stir me and against all better judgement I rose to face the day. The reason for this unforgivable wake up call was that Jeff had a bus to catch at six and I wanted to see him off. His return to Australia was going to be a sudden wake-up call for me as it signalled the start of my solo journey. Well actually, Alex will be with me for a few more days but he doesn't count as he generally sleeps all day. With Jeff seen off and the soap-opera teary farewell all but avoided the new day awaited; Wednesday. I went back to sleep.
Re-awakening later in the morning I sat in the guesthouse restaurant eating an equisite pancake and drinking real coffee with not a single idea of what the day would have in store for Alex and I. It became one of those odd days that attract adventure as a magnet would attract objects likely to be attracted
Jeff at Ta Phrom
Therese complained that there weren't enough photos of Jeff in the journal so here is a back dated one from Angkor. by magnets (while on holiday I refuse to think in a scientific manner and complete that sentence correctly!). To start trhe day we headed toward the royal palace in Phnom Penh, a short moto ride away from our lodgings, only to find that it was closed until 2:30pm. Not to be disheartened we set off on a walk to a relatively un-touristed temple in the vicinity. The temple, or Wat as it would be correctly called were you all savvy of the languages of this part of the world, is the heart of all Buddhism in Cambodia and is the seat from which the king-monk (true title is unknown to me) controls the temples and monks of the entire country. As antinicipated the two of us marched straight into the compound unnoticed and we began investigating its myriad relics. Then, suddenly, a Cambodian man walked up to us and asked "How are you today?".
Peter Moore would describe this man (his name is Name, no joke) as an
Earnest Young English Speaker
. A local who is trying to learn our pathetically complex language and to that end seeks out westerners to talk to. Today he found us, two unsuspecting young men with
Awesome Dude This Way
That is my interpretation of Alex's photo, he assures me that there are others. few cares and ample time, and thus we entertained his conversation on the condition that he show us around the temple. Subsequently we had an absolute ball examining every relic and facet of the place, along with an explanatory commentary from our impromptu guid. At one point we were even invited into the innermost bowels of a busddhist stupa (large dome shaped building in which the remains of deceased monks reside) to be blessed by an old monk. The moment was remarkably stirring and such an opporuntiy is rare indeed, Alex and I were both humbled by the experience. Following this event, and with us westerners in unusually good humour, Name asked us if we would help him with his pronunciation of "a few" words. We agreed to this as he had been most helpful for well over an hour, so off to his brother's room we headed (his brother is studying as a monk at the temple). Name prompty produced a thick book of words which he knows, every one of them categorised both by type (noun, verb etc.) and alphabetically, and a casette recorder. ""How many words did he have difficulty with?" we wondered.
Unfortunately for Name,
Entertaining Children on the Beach
I should so join the circuis, hey, I've already done the running away from home part! but luckily for us, no blank tapes were available so Name left the two of us in the room while he ducked off down to the shop. Inside the small 2x2 meter room there were two novice monks along with Alex and I, plus any number of others who crowded the doorway to see what was going on. This seemed like a perfect opportunity for the
Earnest Young Cambodian Speaker
within me so out came the Lonely Planet phrasebook. I stumbled through the words for hello to no avail, the monk I had attempted to speak to could not comprehend my vain attempt, perhaps I had said "purple monkey dishwasher" or some such idiocy. I tried again, this time checking the pronunciation of each vowel in the complicated phrase. Again no success, but another man had entered the room and he began to speak in English; through him I managed to explain the words I had been attempting and he coached me. Finally! Words that the monk could understand! I continued, a newfound confidence swelling within me, and asked him his name. He seemed to understand, and the other man made sure by asking the monk the same question, however, somewhat confusingly he
Enjoying Lunch by the Beach
Jeff and Alex make use of a sunny day at Otres beach, they had fantastic hammocks here. seemed reluctant to say his name. Eventually the introductions were complete and we had reached the stage of writing things down on paper to aid each other when Name returned with not one, but three blank tapes!
Then comensed the tour de force of English pronunciation. Starting with verbs, Alex and I took turns in reading pages from Name's book of words. There were all sorts of words, ones we use in commonplace speech, and others that we had only heard of in far off high-school English classes. We perservered and said every verb under the sun into the little recorder, and then the adjective section began. At this point I had grown tired of reading words and I checked to see how many more were to follow. Name got the hint and flipped forward to a section that he really need to know, the "-tion" section. Then he flipped to another section but the looks on our faces gave away our thoughts (funny that) and Name realised that he had worn out his new companions so the recording session came to a close. We said our fond goodbyes to Name, exchanged emails and took some photos, and we
Another Secluded Beach
After driving north for an hour on our bikes we came by this beach which is only visited by locals. Flying fish swam right next to me here! headed for lunch (the most important part of any morning).
One could be excused for assuming that one extraoadinary event such as had just transpired would be sufficient for a single day. No-one has enough good karma to deserve more, do they? Well, we did today! For lunch we headed to a little restaurant in Phnom Penh which has become a bit of a favourite for us, in fact, we are now regulars there (I didn't even need to see the menu). The restaurant is called "Veiyo Tonle" which means "the breeze from the river" and is quite a fitting name as the restaurant is directly across from the Tonle Sap river. They make the most fantastic pizzas that I have ever tasted there and we have consumed eight pizzas and two other dishes there between us in the last week. Additionally, the restaurant is run as a non-profit organistation and all funds are sent directly to an orphanage. I guess you can pick the good restaurants such as these: when Jeff and I first discovered it we entered because there was a tour group there. Not just any old tour group, an Intrepid tour group (www.intrepidtravel.com) and in
Lazy Beach-combing
What better place exists for relaxation? our opinion such tours patronise quality establishments (my previous trips have been with them). We could tell it was an Intrepid group just by looking at them, there is a certain vibe which they exude and I guess we were drawn to it. Anyway, returning from this long-winded tangent, lunch was fantastic, a super-hawaiian pizza could never be anything but.
After lunch the two of us intrepid explorers returned to the palace as 2:30 had come and gone somewhere between the pizza shop and a bookstore. Then, out of nowhere we were ambushed! By that I mean that an Australian guy stopped us and asked if we spoke English. Through the ensuing conversation we found out that he was a good bloke from Canberra who had come by some bad luck; his back had been stolen by one of the street urchins which sell books and other obscure items on the streets around here. All of his cards and money had been removed from him and all he had been left with was his passport (he is lucky on that count). Since then he had been to the Australian embassy but through a beuracratic nightmare they could not help
Our Guesthouse by the Lake
This is the view from our Guesthouse's restaurant. It is literally "on the lake" and it only costs $2 a night. him until they had contacted his relatives to confirm details. That had left him with no money and nowhere to go except Western Union. Now here is a catch-22: to get money from one of his friends in Australia he would need to ring them and tell them to go to Western Union, but to make said phone call he would need money. Being broke and having not eaten in 24 hours, this put the poor guy in a bind which is why he had requested our help. We lent him some small amount of money and he has promised to bring it to us at our guesthouse tonight. Do you think he was genuine? I do, buut as yet he has not appeared. Either way, it will be an interesting story when the truth is fully unveiled.
The Aussie guy left us and we continued to the palace. Upon entering we went to pay the ticket fee ($5 for a camera and $3 without) only to realise that we were now nigh on broke! We had just run ourselves broke in order to make another broke man less so. Were we mad? Luckily I had $6 and 2000
riels on me which bought us two tickets and left enough money to get a moto to drive us back to our guesthouse (only if we bartered our rear-ends off), however, we had to forego the camera passes. Of course that did not stop us from using our cameras, we just dodged paying for it. Now, the palace is amazing; I found it more enjoyable than its equivalent in Bangkok if only for the relatively small crowd of tourists that we had to share the place with. The architecture in Cambodia is simply breathtaking and I have sworn that when I leave this world I intend to be buried in Khmer sylings! Unfortunately for us though, upon entering the silver pagoda we were asked to surrender our cameras (photography is not allowed in the sacred structure) along with our tickets. The attendant was more than angry when he found that our tickets were insufficient, and no matter how much we played dumb or claimed that we weren't taking photos he remailed totally un-placated. Eventually, through sheer force of standing in front of him claiming that we would pay later he relented and we were allowed to enter. I half expected
Rambo
Posing with guns is not to be recommended and should not be done at home. Especially the face pulling, that really is quite a horrible look Matty. to find that my memory card had been wiped before I got my camera back but to my delight the guards had been changed and we walked away scott-free. Take that inflated ticktting fees!
To complete the day, or at least the part of it prior to me sitting at this computer and writing about it, Alex and I walked down towards the central market. Two reasons presented themselves for this. Firstly, the market is closer to our guesthouse so the moto ride would be cheaper (or at least easier to barter down to 2000 riels). And secondly, to take a photo of the "art deco" building within which it is housed. Now, I don't claim to be an artist or architect, and I do not know the complete definition of art deco, but this building can only be described in on way: ugly for the sake of ugly. It is a horrendous bulding, pale yellow in colour and fading all over. It was built to resemble a zigguarat from the middle east and to that end I do give it some credit. But really? What architect thought that this would look nice? Take a look at the photo
Earnest Young Speakers Association
Me, Name and Alex pose after our encounter at the temple. and ask yourself that question.
Finally, we faced the moto drivers who demanded $3 (12,000 riel) to get back to our guesthouse. We said 1000, they said 6000, I said 2000, they said 5000, I showed them my wallet and counted out every penny, they laughed. Then they took us home out of pity.
What more will happen tonight? Find out in my next journal. I am heading north towards Laos tomorrow and will spend some time off the beaten track (in a hammock on an island in the Mekong without electricity) so the update will be some time in coming, however, as I will be visiting some of the wildest and unknown parts of south east asia it should be a good one.
Prior to Wednesday
Yesterday we went shooting. That's right, Jeff, Alex and I went to a shooting range to partake in the supposed pleasure of firing deadly weapons. Now, I would not have thought that a shooting range would be as exciting as the touts try to convince you but there must be some pleasure involved else why would all the soldier types in Townsville be so quick to sign up
No Dirty Hippies
Warning sign at the royal palace. Everybody hates hippies. and get shooting? People always talk of the power and the control one feels in such situations and I was keen to investigate for myself. Now, to avail you fears we did not shoot any chickens, nor did we shoot the rocket-launcher at a cow. We took a M1 rifle and paid $1 per bullet to shoot at a paper target not 20m away.
The thrill of holding the gun was not present and was instead replaced by a fear of placing my hand in the wrong position and doing some serious damage. The thrill of pulling the trigger was replaced with an annoyance at not being able to sight very well without straining at least 80% of the muscles in my face and neck. The joy and pwoer at feeling the bullet released from the muzzle did not occur as the cold and unthinking reality of guns came to me in the flash. The only joy I took from the occasion was in attempting to be more accurate than my compatriots as we had a bet going as to who would be better at mortally wounding a paper print of a bad-guy.
Jeff won, he got all
Part of the Royal Palace Complex
I really love this building, it is so elegant. 30 bullets to hit the guy while I could only manage 26. Alex would have won had he not become bored with shooting the target on the guy's chest and instead started aiming for head-shots (he got one right on the money too mind you). Therefore Alex and I paid up $6 each so that Jeff could shoot a piston at the targets. At least Jeff was the one who most enjoyed the day so I guess it was appropriate for him to win.
Now, I have some important news for you all by means of an update to my review of Serendipity beach (my last journal entry). As you may recall I said that Serendipity beach was the dirtiest beach in the region and I could not understand why it was the backpacker haunt. After dinner one night on the aforementioned beach I grew the courage to ask our waiter as to the reasons behind the dirty beach. He excaimed "oh, it is terrible what has happened. This used to be a beautiful beach only one year ago, I used to come down and swim every day". Within that one year the beach has been turned from pristine
beach-liness into a refuse pit by the numerous bars and restaurants which have accumulated along its shore. The continual dumping of waste has ruined what we can only assume to be as beautiful a place as Otres beach is now, and it is all the fault of tourism. The saddest part is that Otrest beach is now becomming a tourist mecca due to its beachfront. What will befall of it one year hence?
In a similar vein, the three of us went on a boat trip to some of the islands near Sihanoukville. In much the same fashion as Serendipity beach we were sadly dissappointed by what we found. The islands were dirty, with rubbish bags and all sorts of other refuse washed up around every shore, and the snorkelling was dull with an almost total lack of living coral and only a handfull of miniscule fish. Thailand really has the sweeps when it comes to snokelling in the region I would say.
Enough about the environment though, as I also travel with the express purpose of meeting people, and Serendipity beach comes through on this count. During the three or four days we spent there we met
Fatty Matty
At some point in my past I attacked the Khmer empire with my disturbing eating habbits and have been immortalised in this fresco. innumerable interesting people (not actually innumerable but I couldn't be bothered counting). One such person was a deaf and mute girl who worked at one of the restaurants. After clearing our table she proceeded to explain her entire day to us in sign-language (I believe she mixed proper sign-language with common garden variety charades to get her point across), and what is more, we understood her. Without knowing more than the basics of signing we left that decidedly one-sided conversation with a great understanding of her day. And my, did she spend a lot of it sleeping! She would have been perfect for Alex. A second encounter from the beach which I choose to share came when an Australian guy (why are there so many of us here?) asked to take one of the chairs at our table. We had a quick chat and I soon learned that he used to work in Karratha, Western Australia, and that he used to know my uncle there. Now I have heard the "small world" adage, but this is outrageous! I did not travel 6000km from home to meet Australians that I could have met just as easily back home!
I will
Art Deco Marketplace
Urghhh! It's hideous! leave this journal here as the night awaits. I apologise for any typographical errors herein as this computer does not have a useful word processor and I am far too lazy to proof read it now.
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Joel
non-member comment
Real coffee?
You seem to refer to drinking this "real coffee" substance several times during your travels. It seems to me that your definition of "real coffee" is a substance, assumably drinkable, provided at restuarants in some of the poorest countries of the world which you delight in paying minimal amounts of their pathetic legal tender. So what you're really actually consuming is dirt right?