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British Mensa Travel Special Interest Group |
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Beauty
and sadness Five years ago I kicked off a 12 month Round the World trip with my husband Stewart with a few days in Bangkok, then a short flight to Siem Reap to see the fabulous Angkor Wat temple complex. Rather than write a traditional travelogue describing what we saw in each of our ten days in Cambodia I thought I would give my impressions of this beautiful country. One strong memory is watching a gorgeous sunset from one of the causeways at Angkor Wat on our first evening, and receiving a text from a friend to let us know that the father of one of our best friends had died after a lengthy illness, just days after we left on our travels. Sadness in a beautiful place is a theme we would return to again and again in our travels through Cambodia, Vietnam and Laos. Watching from the same causeway as a little boy turned cartwheels from the shore into the moat, which Stewart managed to snap at just the right moment. Kids playing together near the floating village on Tonle Sap lake, each in their own little bathtub. Again Stewart snapped a great pic of one little boy as he bounced up and down in a round metal tub, with water rings circling his tub. Climbing the steep narrow steps to the top of the main Angkor temple to watch the sun set and worrying how we would get down again – until the guide led us to another set of steps which had a handrail. Watching local people wearing flip flops scampering up these same steps while the Westerners inched their way carefully to the top. Sitting in our own little peaceful niche at the top of the main temple, waiting quietly for the sun to go down... only to be surrounded by a jabbering Japanese tour group at the last minute, who stood in front of us and spoiled the serenity by their chatter. We moved to a quieter place where we could admire the setting sun in peace and quiet. The amazing Ta Prohm temple, which has huge trees and tree roots slowly reclaiming it back to nature. This is a fabulous sight and may be familiar to anyone who has seen the film Tomb Raider. Being led round Pre Rup temple (used for royal cremations and funeral rituals) by a small boy with better English than our original guide, who was well able to answer all of Stewart’s difficult questions. We tipped him well, particularly as a soldier kept following us as we went round the temple and then looked for money from us for doing nothing. We suspected he would take something from our little guide, so made sure we gave extra so that hopefully the little boy would get something for his excellent guiding. Stewart’s Sizzling Anise cocktail in the lovely Blue Pumpkin café in Siem Reap – served hot and sizzling with cinnamon rice brandy, orange curacao and anise. Our seven hour slow boat journey from Siem Reap to Battambang – the second half of which was just wonderful as we passed through a tropical landscape with palm trees and houses on stilts, with lots of kids waving from the houses as the boat passed. We wished we hadn’t sat at the back of the boat. The noise of the engine meant we couldn’t really talk to anyone – for the full seven hours of the journey. Battambang itself; although it is Cambodia’s second biggest city/town doesn’t feel that big at all. It has a definite French influence from the shop fronts to the wide streets. It is very dusty and much poorer than Siem Reap. Out hotel room cost US$11, including aircon and hot water. Everywhere we went in Battambang we were objects of curiosity for all the locals, of whatever age and gender. It seems they don’t get many tourists there and were fascinated to see tall white people (I’m 5’ 10”). Everyone would seem to stare and smile, particularly at me. In one shop the two shop girls giggled and nudged their male colleague to check me out. With the help of hand gestures they were able to tell us that they were most fascinated by 1) my blonde hair 2) my pale skin and 3) the fact that I am taller than my husband (by an inch). One of the most memorable meals in our whole year of travelling was in Battambang. We tried and failed to find a restaurant from the guidebook and as the road ran out first of street lights and then a footpath we ducked into the next brightly lit restaurant we came upon. They gave us a menu, with only the drinks printed in English, while all the food was shown only in Cambodian. Confusion reigned for a while but after lots of gesturing and consultations with about five waiters, we worked this out and ordered by describing what we wanted. Stewart ordered fish via ‘swim swim little fishy’ hand gestures and I ordered chicken, rice and veg by pointing at translations at the back of our guidebook. During the meal we had numerous waiters and waitresses hovering, with one schoolgirl having the sole job of keeping Stewart’s beer glass topped up with ice. A baby was brought to our table, not once but twice, by two different people. The owner’s grandmother was also brought over to greet the white foreigners. Someone eventually turned up who spoke English and we learned that it was their opening night! They considered it great good luck that we were there for their first night, hence all the attention. We gave them a hefty tip to wish them luck for their new business and finally left with a row of people bowing goodbye to us and thanking us for the good luck money. It was a magical (if confusing) evening and one you could never replicate if you tried. Oh and our absolutely delicious meal plus quite a few drinks cost about six dollars, before our four dollar tip! Our journey by bus from Battambang to Phnom Penh was one of the most uncomfortable of our lives, but was also quite memorable. Our tickets showed we had reserved seats, but these were occupied by three (not two) diminutive local ladies. We were ushered further down the bus to the hot back seat over the engine, where we were jammed in with our knees up to our chins and Stewart rubbing hips with the man beside him. We had five hot and cramped hours like this (with a brief lunch stop where we could stretch our legs) before we stopped at a pagoda where about half the people got off, for what seemed to be a local religious festival. It was here that I was treated like some kind of film star when I was spotted by the local kids. They all came running over to see this pale blonde lady at the back of the bus and wanted to touch me and shake my hand through the open window. Even when the bus pulled off, the kids who hadn’t been able to reach me ran after it so they could touch me before we sped off into the distance. We had a lucky break at the FCC (Foreign Correspondents’ Club) in Phnom Penh – when a firework display started directly opposite our second floor balcony seats just after our half priced cocktails arrived. We asked the waiter what the fireworks were for – it was the end of their three-day independence celebrations. It was difficult to encounter so many beggars. Often these are badly mutilated mine victims (there are still unmarked mine fields even close to Angkor Wat, so you are advised not to stray off marked paths), who either hobble towards you with one hand extended, or are placed on a cart and pushed around by someone else. As we had been warned that many beggars (particularly kids) have ‘handlers’ who take most if not all of the money they get, we decided not to give money to beggars but instead to support a local charity. This was ‘Friends’ in Phnom Penh, which trains local street kids for jobs like car mechanics, waiters and chefs. They run a restaurant staffed by these kids where the prices are a bit higher than normal, but where you know you are supporting a worthy cause. In this way we could be sure that our money was benefiting the right people. On one occasion we did break our own rule, but gave food not money to a couple of begging children. We were having breakfast in Phnom Penh with an American couple we had met on the boat to Battambang when I noticed one little girl staring at us as we ate our food. I had too many pancakes, so I gestured to her would she like some. Her huge eyes lit up, she took the proffered food and stood there staring at me as she ate every last morsel. A few minutes later she returned with a friend. I had no food left by now so Stewart gave her what was left of his and the two of them ran off together. It was heartbreaking to see such hungry children. The contrast between the beautiful Silver Pagoda and Royal Palace and the horrors of the Killing Fields at Choeung Ek (where bones can still be seen poking out of the soil) and Toul Sleng – a former high school turned into a prison/torture camp. There are only 12 known survivors of Toul Sleng, out of an estimated 17,000 prisoners. Like the Nazis, the Khmer Rouge documented what they did and every prisoner who passed through Toul Sleng was photographed, sometimes before and after torture. It was very hard to see hundreds and hundreds of photos of men, women and children who you knew had been tortured and killed. It was also very disturbing to see pictures painted by one of the survivors showing torture scenes he had witnessed, only to realise that the exact same torture equipment depicted is sitting in the very next room. However, we thought it was important not to ignore this tragic history, which is so recent. We didn’t want to skim the surface of this country and ignore the genocidal events which happened so recently. First published in VISA 87 (Oct 2009) |