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Published: March 4th 2006
How is this possible?!
one wonders how they get the balance spot on...Another long one i'm afraid - you might want to make yourself a cup of tea, or read in two sittings, hehe.
Everyone's heard of the book 'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance', but I propose a new book 'Zen and the Art of How to Maintain a Stable Heartbeat on a Motorcycle'. I'm referring here to a few trips I've taken this past week, involving me, a motorcycle and the flashing of my life. When faced with sitting on the back of one that's travelling at 70kph, with no protection, on a track that's pretty much nothing more than slippery sand and holes the size of the Grand Canyon, I'm sure I wouldn't be alone in admitting to seeing my life's commentary in fast-motion.
Such a venture took up much of the day on a tour I went on in the Mondulkiri Province, north-east Cambodia, and was a very memorable day. Just me and my fun guide, Minui, we visited a number of places including a couple of waterfalls. 'Oh wow' I hear you cry, but considering Mondulkiri Province is the wild-east of Cambodia, deserterd, with a population of only 2ppl/km2, and a red, dusty, savannah landscape
due to much deforestation (staining my clothes a lovely colour), the sight of some waterfalls in the dry season was actually quite something. However, agreed, it's not enough to make the day memorable. What was, was a visit to a local, minority, Muslim village, where I stuck out like a sore thumb, especially with my red dust covered face. An absolutely magical experience, not least because I was only the 2nd tourist to ever visit it, so they were just as happy to see me as I was to see them.
I mostly stayed at one house, with a couple of men, their wives, grandfather and kids, and the conversation seemed to change subjects as fast as Jonathan Ross's suits. With the help of Minui translating (before you wonder where I've been able to grasp the Cambodian language so quickly - nope, my vocabulary still consists of just 3 words), we spoke about what I do in England, Caroline, religion, moon landings and why the phases of the moon change, their lifestyle, me being left-handed, how the Khmer Rouge affected them etc. They played forever with my camera (and so I got some photos developed later to give to
them as a little gift), I learnt how to thatch (you never know, it might come in handy one day), and the old man showed me water filter mechanisms left by the Red Cross, an organisation that has helped their lives immensely.
Mainly still a subsistence lifestyle, many children choose not to go to school, even though it is now free (I can think of a few people in the West who wouldn't mind a choice like that), but as a family, gain a little money selling rice, cashew nuts or similar crops. As honoury guest, the family prepared a fire and cooked Buffalo meat just for me - very salty (so as to preserve it) but very tasty, as I chew away with everyone watching me intently with an expectant look on their faces. Swallowing, I smile, nod and say "very good". As if someone released a valve, they all breathed out in unison and let out approving "aahhh" gasps. Very surreal but also wonderfully enriching.
Getting to and from Mondulkiri also involved more of said scary motorcycle trips. Somehow, both times I nearly managed to miss my bus (I think the God of buses is against
me; I do seem to keep having problems with buses don't I?!), once due to a moto breaking down and the other because of shear morning stupidity. Either way, it meant sitting on the back of a motorcycle with my big rucksack, speeding alone at Mach 2.3 to catch up with the buses, dodging bikes, cars, pigs and people by the clever use of beeping the horn loudly and constantly, in the hope people will move out of the path. Beeping over here is a tried and tested technique, used more as a friendly warning, than as a "you f#@#ing idiot, learn to drive!" meaning. On the 8hour bus trip north to Mondulkiri, I estimated there were around 10,000 presses of the beeper - enough to diagnose me as insane by the time we arrived. Even cycling in Phnom Penh, I felt my life was in my hands - the trick is to just go with the flow..and sometimes completely against it.
Overall though, the few days in a less-travelled part of Cambodia were great for R&R - besides the tour, my time was mixed between reading in a hammock, eating lots and sleeping in a tree-house open to
The wild-east of Mondulkiri Province
Welcome to Little House on the Prairie the outside world - oh, and dodging the occasional 'controlled' fire that threatened to engulf the guesthouse.
Back in Phnom Penh, I spent another day sorting out visas for Laos and Vietnam before heading off for one final mini-adventure to the south coast, to a town called Kampot where we refreshingly were not hassled by motorcycle drivers every few seconds. It's a small place, wih a central huge roundabout perched on the edge of a river, and famous for one thing - pepper. If the older of you reading went to Paris before the Cambodian War, you would've had Kampot Pepper on your food. How interesting, I know. Coming down on the bus (disappointed, as until 2 months ago, one could travel on the roof of the slow-moving train, meant to be one of the best train experiences in the world, but now the train has been shutdown), I met 3 lovely British people - Tracy and Albert, a married couple in their late-twenties, and Tracy's brother Matt, and along with another British couple Helen and Martin, we spent a couple of days together cruising round the region.
The first day was spent on a tour of a
place called Bokor Hill Station - pretty much a ghost town, a holiday resort that was once literally fit for the King, before being abandoned twice due to wars. Now, just the decrepit remains of the buildings survive - but perched on the top of a mountain, over-looking the coast, they're pretty photogenic even if they do require a vivid imagination to see how they would've once been. There was a bombed post office, a UFO-style water tower, a church covered in orange fluffy lichen and the Queen of the crop, a 5-storey hotel complex straight out of a Hollywood budget thriller that made me wish I was a kid again so I could play 'Hide n Seek' through its endless corridors, staircases and bedrooms. Descending the mountain, we repeated the journey up by sitting on the back of a 4x4 pickup; another typical journey in Asia. This time however, not only was it incredibly bumpy, but a very overgrown road too - as evidenced with the scratch marks on my arms from the passing brambles and leaves, and my neck-ache from constantly ducking my head to the flow of vegetative traffic for over 2 hours each way. The day
My treehouse bed for 3 nights..
(it's morning, so I'm allowed to look grumpy) was made complete by first going on a 'sunset cruise', on a wooden boat that was leaking, with no life jackets, and in the dark missing the sunset, but a good laugh, and secondly treating myself to the meatiest portion of ribs ever for just $4. :D
As for the 2nd day, I acquired a brand new skill - how to ride a motorbike...well, moped. But at 125cc, it had gears n everything. I was well impressed! Albert gave all of us a 1/2 hour lesson, and all my memories of my 1st driving lesson 5 years ago came flooding back, as I went back onto a roundabout for the 1st time, right-hand-side of the road too! My driving was a bit stuttered to begin with, until Albert suggested we all simply start and stay in 4th gear the whole time ('who cares about the clutch?' was our mutual philosophy), and then I started getting the hang of it. Going down the Cambodian countryside, I was Mr cool with my shades on, and felt like the wind, while a little kid overtook me on his one-geared bicycle. I had a great time, eventually picking up speed and bumming along
at a rocket-speed of 25mph, across Cambodia's open, flat countryside, with rice fields, cattle, kids playing and dodging the odd chicken or speeding bus. We got ourselves to the small coastal town of Kep, where local kids go swimming against a backdrop of bombed colonial houses, and back again via a groovy little cave. Taking it in turns, we paid a local to guide us up and up through the mountain cave system full of shrines and rock formations that would make any geography nerd's mouth water, with a trail of a dozen kids following us as if we were the Pied Piper.
Sadly, that was my last little Cambodian adventure (but good news as it means this long blog is finally coming to an end for you), as tomorrow I'm off on a 3-day tour of Vietnam's Mekong Delta, with Saigon/Ho Chi Minh the eventual destination. In truth, I've got mixed feelings about leaving. I feel I've seen a fair bit in 2 1/2 weeks, without rushing and can leave without feeling like I've missed anything major. However, travelling should be more than just ticking off places to visit, and I would love to spend longer here
to get to know the people better and start noticing more from the corners of my eyes. It'll be a few generations yet before Cambodia completely gets over being taken to hell, but it's getting there and I'd love to return in a decade or two to see how it's changed. There's two separate worlds to Cambodia: the Urban world full of moto drivers, fried bugs, white-skinned tourists, loud music, open sewers, bustling markets and a sense of renourishing life and wealth, and the Rural world where the pace of life drops to the speed of an 80's Skoda, men sit and do nothing but stare and talk during the midday sun, the odd clank of a cattle bell can be heard and a sense that life has stayed pretty much the same for the past 25 years. All the time though, I'm confronted by poverty or a vision of how every place would've looked 30 years ago during the Regime, and it's hard to escape that vision, and the shivers I get down my spine. Therefore, leaving, although sad, will be a relief, and I really don't like admitting that.
But it would be wrong to end on
a sad note. Come to Cambodia! Save the beach holiday for another time. You'll learn a lot, experience a different world, and the essence of life will rub off from the locals to you, so you'll go back home buzzing. Afterall, the 'buzz' is what SE Asia in the 21st Century is all about. 😊
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Rory
non-member comment
dude!
Well, it had to happen sometime. The perfect flow of Queens English grammar in these here blogs has finaly come to an end with 'I was well impressed' bringing the stain of Americanisms along. Ah well. Oh and that has to be the least bombed looking bombed house ive ever seen, if that makes sense. But apart from that, the jealousy is still not subsiding after all this time, and looks like you're still having an amazing time. Git. Speak soon mate, and keep on living life to the full!