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Published: December 21st 2008
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The saying goes "The Vietnamese plant the rice, The Cambodians watch the rice grow, and the Lao listen to the rice growing". That would mean that life in Camboadia and Laos is slower - which it is - and quieter, which it is not. People talk, music is played and roosters crow just as loudly as in Vietnam. And all that as early as 5.30 in the morning. Add to that - even earlier - the wake-up call from the nearby Wat (= monastery) - a clanging-banging of some kind of drumgong - and you don't want to live ... I mean, you might as well get up. As there is much to see and do it's not a bad idea anyway.
I loved Siem Reap. Not only because of the fascinating heaps of stone mentioned in the last blog entry, but because of its relaxed atmosphere and that you could buy not only chocolate but also cheese (!). There was a lot less of a mad rush on the streets (Yeah, I do have a motor cycle but what do I need a licence for? What is a licence anyway?) so it was fun to wander around and discover
hidden paths and alleyways.
On one day we booked an excursion to Kampong Phluk, a village of stilted houses within the floodplain of the Tonle Sap Lake about 16 km from Siem Reap. Life - even those of pigs (!) - takes place on or up to 6 meters above the water level, depending on the season. Children are able to swim at the age of 2 or 3 years. Before they themselves get to row a boat they move between houses in some kind of tin wash basin.
Lunch was Cambodian style: eating on a mat on the floor and afterwards rwsting in a hammock (= Haengematte). Fried rice with eel (!) for my friend Hartmut, and fish fresh from the lake for me. Seemd the safer bet. Iced coffee was ordered from a passing rowing boat and handed up tp the platform terrace via a waiter climbing down a dead tree. The reald adventure, though, was once again the trip to the toilet: a loo with a view - a gap between two wooswn planks behind a sheet of corrugated iron (= Wellblech) that reached to about my waist at the end of a swaing bamboo pathway
four meters above the water. (I do hope there is no boat passing below just now!)
Even though you might think me a bit preoccupied with food I have to tell you about two other "dining" experiences. One was a picknick luch on our trip down the Nam Tha, "nam" meaning "river". After an exhilarating ride through ther wild rapids ... yes, they were wild if you consider sitting in a flat, 8-meter-long wooden boat steered by the boat driver in the back (the 2-meter-long metal rod connecting his wheel to the propeller (??) only borke once) and two young men in the front equipped with a wooden paddle and a long bamboo pole. Only their obvious, vast experience apparently prevented the boat from crashing into one of the many major boulders or huge trees along the way. It was close, though, on occasion.
But lunch. We made fast at a small sand bank, the young men hopped out, chopped down two young wild-growing banana trees in the surrounding bush, hacked off the leaves with their machetes, and spread them on the ground. Voila, a picknick blanket. On it were put delicacies like dried water buffalo meat, fried river
weed with sesame seeds, something crunchy in a red sauce (they do like chicken claws here), and, of course, lots and lots of sticky rice. Take off your shoes - lunch's ready!
The other culinary adventure took place in Munag Khua, strangely again enough at the end of a river journey - a two-day trip with a slow boat up the Nam Ou. An extract from my travel journal:
When we arrived it didn't look too bad. Busses and Jumbos (large Tuk Tuks) parked at the edge of the river, the road seems to lose itself in the water only to appear again on the other side, direction Vietnam. There is a ferry, pulled by ropes and pushed by a motorised barge, puffing huge clouds of blackish smoke. We walk to our guest house up "main street". It gives off the feeling of being a road to nowhere. Exploring the town. Once to the right, once to the left. The people very reserved, even suspicious. Hardl;y anyone smiles back. We want to eat and drink something. They have pancakes at a place with a terrace overlooking the river. Hartmut orders a coffee, I a fresh lemon juice with it.
Time passes. A chicken stalks past, dogs wander in and out. The daughters of the house shuffle around aimlessly. To the tables, back to the kitchen. Leftovers are chucked over the ballustrade, some beer is drunk from a guest's glass - well, it was offered - one or maybe two dirty dishes from a whole table full are taken back to the kitchen. Hartmut's coffee does not come. I watch my lemon juice being prepared. Half a lemon is sqeezed in, sugar and water added, the young woman tastes it with a spoon, uses it to stir the drink again. Shuffle, shuffle, my drink is served. It is lukewarm and not a bit lemony. The pineapple pancake - one - finally arrives as a banana pancake. No worries. the banana pieces are just resting on the top anyway. Back to the kitchen. A pineapple is cut up. It is very juicy. The juice is licked off the fingers, the cutting continues. The pancake is cooling. Shuffle, shuffle, one then the other pancake is served. At some time the coffee arrives, too. A roosters crows. An experience. Eating out in Asia is never dull.
But now to something completely different.
In all three countries I have been visiting (Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos) booklets are published which are called "Stay Another Day". In them initiatives are introduced which support local people and by visiting them you van contribute in some way to improving the welfare of local people. In Cambodia we found out about this but a little too late so we only had time for one project. It's called Butterflies Garden, which is a restaurant (oh not, food again) where disadvantaged youth are trained in the business. On top of it - and that is where the name stems from - the butterflies in the garden, which is covered by netting, are purchased from local children which provides them with a small income to be able to stay in school. Their parents, who very often only find work on an hourly basis, cannot support them. (Further north we encountered similar problems with street children, but there the problem was that the parents were often opium addicts.) Every Monday, Thursday and Saturday the children cycle to the restaurant from their village eight or nine kilometers away, get fed and payed, and then release the butterflies into the garden.
My favourite
Christmas Presents??
Merchandise outside one of the temp[les project in Laos is "Big Brother Mouse" or "Lao books for Lao kids", based in Luang Prabang, a 100% Lao-owned enterprise which employs 22 young Laotians aged 15 to 24, who are learning to write, draw, use computers and operate a business. With the help of the books they publish they work on increasing reading and literacy rates nationwide. They do wonderful things to achieve that. Check out their website (www.bigbrothermouse.com) or go visit. You can also volunteer your time and help out with conversation practice for which local high school and college stduents come in every morning between 9 and 11 except Sundays. I did this three mornings while I was here (yeah, I miss school sooooo much) and I don't think the students were the only ones to learn something. Want me to explain how to play Kar Tor?
My friend Hartmut told me I would definitely have to write something about the Hmong New Year courtship ritual. We were in Laos just at the right time to experience it. That and the bullfights which also only take place at this time. But I do think this is enough for today. Tomorrow I will finally fly home where I will have the time to tell you more. (And no problems with failing power or sites breaking down - as just a few minutes ago, so that I had to write most of this again.
I wish all of you a wonderful Christmas, good times with family and friends, exciting or peaceful days just as required. And a happy New Year, too.
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