Calm in the Eye of the Storm

Matt and Amy had left for school, Paul had headed off to the office, pre-packing had begun when the OMG moment happened. “Helen we have a problem” was the stated twist on that other famous understatement. And so the wheels of panic driven organisation began to turn. Patrick was called, from his reeking smoke filled office he confirmed the offending package was still indeed in his safe. Phones rang hot. Luckily the ANZ network is now quite extensive throughout the country and the Branch in Sihanoukville was opened and the staff helpful enough to pop down and collect the package for the hotel (it helps when it’s their boss asking). The vital documents were then passed to a taxi driver who just happened to be doing the trip anyway. And in true Cambodian style the package was soon hurtling its way through the chaotic traffic as described in earlier blogs. . For a mere cost of $2.50 (plus generous tip of $2) the documents arrived in Phnom Penh 4 hours later. Where else in the world could you get service like that?
In the meantime we all went calmly shopping. First to collect the clothes from the tailors, then after to an incredible cup cake shop, run by an ex-pat who loves cake decorating and spending a huge effort in helping educate the local women in the art. Swanning around the shops and having coffee and cakes of this quality was an interesting insight into what goes on when the kids are at school and the husbands are at work. Tough life but someone has to do it. The practice Helen has had makes her the perfect host and tourist guide/shopping master.
We then headed off the markets, some up market (due to cost and the multiple stories) and some the same same (Cambodians would understand that line). The Russian markets were re-visited to collect the custom made jewellery. And all the while we were taking in the sights of the city in all its busy glory. From barefooted builders working amongst the tangle of power lines, the myriad of tuk tuk’s, the plethora of scooters – some of them interestingly weighted down by salad dodging Policemen.
Lunch was back at French Cafe on the river front and then the inevitable mad rush to pack and get the airport (picking up the passports along the way). A fond farewell to Helen (who was to be back in a couple of hours to collect her next set of visitors) and we were off. A short hop to KL for a 3 hour stopover, 2 of which was waiting in the slowest ever check in line. As it turns out the plane is only half full and being the seasoned travellers we now are we quickly capitalised on it and took over the spare seats.
Not much else to report on this trip apart from arriving in Tullamarine – which was a little better than last time (most likely due to lees concurrent arrivals) and into a hideously cold, wet day. A toasty open fire soon took the cold of the edges though. It took all day to unpack, sort out the plethora of bought stuff, wash clothes, get the goldfish and the post from next door, accept Webster back from Oma and we even got Louisa to netball. Tomorrow is back to reality (work and school for all of us) and thus an end to an amazing adventure.
We really need to thank the following players:
Helen for giving us a whole week of her life and showing us the town, the country and her new lifestyle with such enthusiasm and generosity.
Paul for the same and also for setting the whole scenario up in the first place.
Amy and Matt for spending their holidays with us and generously letting us impose on their space.
All the helpers of their household, they made our travels the easiest and most stress free we’ve ever had.
Charm for looking after Webster (“woof woof” from him).
Brian and Fran for collecting the mail and looking after the goldfish, including the bowel diagnosis of the one who regularly floats upside down (another time for that story perhaps).
The Assauws’ who kept an eye on the guinea pigs.
All the people of Cambodia – you’ve been through hell and are now pulling yourselves out of it with great tenacity, enthusiasm and most of all - friendliness. Please don’t loose those values; they make you unique in the world.

The long way home

Another leisurely brekkie by the pool was almost Faulty Towerish with and overworked waiter (aka Manuel) with no real idea of what we were ordering. Many attempts at ordering a Late’ ended up with either a long black or a glass of cold milk. In the end Helen settled for a cappuccino. Patrick (aka Basil) the hotel owner had a huge hangover and took 30 minutes and a couple of attempts to produce our bills – which were ultimately wrong as well. Sorting it out amongst ourselves we loaded up the van and headed along the coast to the seaside town of Kep. Inadvertently leaving the passports safely locked away in the Hotel safe. Along the way went through a variety of interesting towns, some perched precariously above the waters of rivers. Squalid and picturesque.
Whilst being distracted by one panorama we managed to launch a puddle load of dirty water over group of brightly coloured Buddhist Monks - who were minding their own business until we came hurtling along. Feeling guilty we decided to try and impose more of our evil western culture ways upon them by offering them a couple of dollars (well, everyone else here loves the stuff). We were politely refused. Suspecting something along the lines of enlightenment is not enabled through the all mighty buck we jaunted off on our merry way, whilst they headed back to their temple to prey for forgiveness for our souls and washing powder for their orange robes.
We passed through the town of Kampot – famous for its pepper. The roads got rougher and busier and we eventually ended up in Kep and a series of restaurants (perched half over the waters of the Gulf ) who specialise in crabs caught in their watery front yard and the previously mentioned spices. We had a great lunch, with the sound of the downpours on the tin roof being drowned out by the sounds of the waves crashing ashore underneath the floor boards. The wind and the rain were still doing their best to remind people that this is the off season.
Kep is full of empty shells of 50’s French seaside mansions which were gutted by the Khmer Rouge in the 70’s. They are just now starting to redevelop the areas infrastructure and it’s pretty obvious that in 2 or 3 years this place will also be back as an expensive joint in which to hang out.
We then headed inland amidst more driving rain and bumpy roads. The journey took quite a few hours as we got caught up in a tide of locals all heading into town after a weekend back home in the provinces. Overloaded cars, vans and busses were the mainstay – most of them with accompanying bags of rice. The road works went on for seemingly ever, just another item to slow us down well. We rode the wave of humanity for hours – it was never dull though – way too much to look at.
Taking a quick detour we headed to the local go-cart track for 10 minutes of high speed high jinks. It was getting dark and the place was closed, however the owner appeared on a scooter and a call or two later and people appeared form all over the place. Including one with an AK 47 slung over his shoulder. The carts were great fun and had everyone exhausted and exhilarated by the end of the scream around the bitumen. We then all piled back into the van (along with swarm of mosquitoes) and then rejoined the traffic back into town.
The parents then hopped out at Raffels Hotel for drinks in the Elephant Bar. This place is not cheap in anyone’s currency, but very well appointed and serviced. Jolly good show eh what?....
We all then headed out for our last dinner before heading home at a local favourite restaurant to soak up more Phnom Penh ambience and then walked home in the warm (but not too muggy) evening. Collapsed into bed blissfully unaware of the package laying half a country away and the ensuing chaos that would be the consequence.

A day on the beach

Breakfast beside the hotel pool and we all jumped in the van and headed to Otres beach. To get there we drove down a flooded, corrugated dirt track, lined by some very fragile looking houses.
The beach is defined by shacks of grass roofs; some are for accommodation and others for sheltering tourists or locals waiting to hassle them. We arrived in the middle of a downpour and quickly established ourselves in a shelter. Immediately we were surrounded by offers of massages, hair removal (using cotton) hand woven bracelets and freshly cooked lobsters. The only way to get rid of them was to say “later” to which they would say “you use me later”. The problem with this that when you use someone else later they get all grumpy.
Our area was controlled by a 15 year old girl running the show and getting everyone else upset, but at least she kept the hounds at bay, we later worked out her power base in that she was the owners daughter. Eventually some sort of balance ensued where they left us alone for a while so we could acclimatise. Needless to say however, over the course of the day our wallets and purses progressively got lighter and lighter as the dollars flowed out of them.
The waters of the Gulf were quite angry in the strong wind, although warmer than the rain coming down so we all braved the strong currents and small but powerful waves. The water has the same colour as the other side (Phuket) but not quite as a deep shade of yellow.
The menus are extensive and the resulting food was extremely fresh and fabulous, it was hard to see how such good quality could be produced in seemingly destitute surrounds – so it was a fabulously relaxing day being pampered by the locals. As this beach is so remote it was not crowed with tourists (and the fact that it is the wet season) – it’s a real gem and a shame that the wheels of progress are rapidly rolling towards it. The prediction is in two years it’ll all be bulldozed for expensive resorts. No idea how Paul and Helen discovered the place but we were extremely glad we experienced it before it disappeared.
Back to hotel, swim for kids , kip for some adults, blog for others. Afterwards we went to a five star resort at Sokha for dinner, which was very salubrious and fulfilling, no idea how many locals had been displaced in order to build the place.
Late night drinks at a party street up the road from the hotel was an interesting Insight into the seedy world of the of the tourist night life.

Off to the beach

Friday morning started lazily (compared to yesterday) – out of bed at 8:30 and hitting the shops by 10:00. First stops were to ensure the tailors were on track and then it was to market to market. No fat pigs but heaps more cheap stuff, and a bag to put it all in. We made sure it matched Mums new shoulder bag – just so she could continue to tell everyone about it.
This time we hit Central and Olympic markets. Olympic puts Spotlight to shame. More material of stunning patterns and colours than could be imagined. And this was one small area of the multi-storied, thriving with activity place.
All of this bouncing around town was courtesy of our driver of course, this type of service almost makes shopping fun. After a relaxing lunch in a small courtyard restaurant we rushed back to pack for our sojourn to the beach for a couple of days. The trip to Sihanoukville was another 4 hours on the roads, no games of chicken this time as our driver seemed to be happy to take things easily and keep his hands off the horn.
The roads were chaotic as ever though, this time exasperated by the never ending stream of trucks with containers (as we were heading towards the country’s ports). This is the wet season and we discovered a fascinating countryside with bright green fields in front of dark ominous skies and more ramshackle, poverty stricken abodes. And yet the people seemingly appear to be happy.
Torrential rain greeted us by the time we got to our hotel and continued for pretty much all of the night. Our hotel is run a French couple who refurbished it from ruins of the war era and is on the hill overlooking the Bay of Thailand. The lights of the harbour beyond silhouetted the trees on the ridge in an eerie glow as the rain lashed down all around us.
Driving though town on the way to dinner through the downpours in the dark was somewhat of a change for Cambodia as no one was moving about - it seemed everyone had ducked for cover somewhere or another. The Italian restaurant was full of "interesting" patrons and fabulous food. The Garlic bread alone is worth a mention simply for the amount of the stuff piled onto each slice. So whilst not much interesting to write about, the day’s activities had everyone exhausted and we collapsed into our comfortable beds and freezing air cons for an interrupted night’s sleep. Pity we didn’t notice the ceiling fan until the morning (note to self – look around room before going to sleep).

Sunrise over antiquity

It was recommended that we save Ankor Wat for an early morning event. This would enable us to get a unique postcard picture and avoid the crowds which frequent the place during the day. And so we dutifully employed our driver Mike to meets us at 4:30 am with a Tuk Tuk to take us there. On the way through the warm dark morning we slowly came to realise we were not the only people to come up with this clever notion. We were particularly concerned that everyone on the road was passing us, whilst being assured that our machine was working O.K., it sure did not sound and behave like it was. The ticket complex was open and a plethora of staff was around to make sure the revenue was flowing even in the wee small hours.
Ankor Wat is the largest temple in the world – this means that it can contain millions of tourists annually to watch the sunrise. Most of them were here today - swarming across the causeway like a marauding horde of glow worms. The gates and the walls of the complex completely failed in their design of keeping intruders out. As we all elbowed each other for the best vantage point the sky slowly changed from late crescent moon to tropical sunrise. Wasn’t overly spectacular (as far as sunrises go) but was still worth getting there for. Once we realised the scale of the place, we left the milling throng at the entrance and wandered towards the temple, snapping happily as we went.
By the time we left, we had completed a pretty thorough inspection of the complex (another fascinating look into ancient wonders) in relative piece – it appeared the hordes were only there to watch the silhouette of the complex become defined in the brightening sky – to actually come and look closely afterwards was too much, or maybe they just wanted breakfast instead.
Mike then took us to Akor Thom which contains the Bayon Temple. This was another fascinating example of Mankind’s creativity. The smiling faces beaming out in all directions was uplifting. Being all templed out, we then tuk tuked back to the hotel for brekkie and a lie down to make up for the early start.
A final dip in the pool preceded our noon checkout. To fill 3 hours before we hopped on the bus we used Mike to the fullest by visiting 2 markets and Pub Street for lunch. All very interesting and still cheap. Once on the bus we wondered how we could possibly last 4 hours cramped into the small seats. And so we headed off - 12 souls hurtling down the road with the sole aim of scaring as many people as possible. The road was safely wide enough for cows, motor bikes and passing cars, trucks and busses – if they were all heading in the same direction. Unfortunately it’s both way traffic which means the middle of the road (whilst defined by meaningless lines) is no-mans territory – heading out there takes a combination of timing, finesse, guts and the appropriate ammunition. Our driver’s key weapon was the horn. Mostly used for warning, sometimes for no reason at all, occasionally reaching a high level of creativity as an instrument
The ensuing game of chicken was an experience to behold. These roads are crowded, lined with ramshackle houses the whole way, people are always moving around them, on foot, pushbike, scooters (some carrying ridiculous loads), cattle driven carts, cars, buses, trucks – pretty much the whole gamut, also a plethora of skinny dogs wandering around as if they own the middle piece of bitumen as well. The game was going quite well – we won some showdowns, lost others and generally kept on track.
Just make the game a bit more interesting, the door to the bus jammed at our halfway stop (making a quick escape impossible) and it got dark and the roads deteriorated. This meant that the obstacles were still there, we just couldn’t see them very well. Our driver was up to the challenge though and the game went on..
We eventually arrived to the bright lights of Phnom Pehn. A short Tuk Tuk trip through town and we were back in the safety of the Clements compound to be warmly greeted and treated to a fabulous dinner. Needless to say we slept very well.

Off to Temple Town

Using the adrenaline of travelling to another town to ward off any self indulgent notion of hangovers from the previous nights exploits - we launched ourselves into the days activities. After another scrumptious brecky we were kindly chauffeured to the airport. As we were the only domestic flight leaving, we relaxed in the docile, yet luxurious surroundings of the Phnom Penn departure lounge, before hopping onto a propeller driven craft. Couriuosly, the seats were more comfortable, the ride nicer and the view better than those jet driven beasts. 40 minutes later and we came to Siem Reap (apparently the translation of which is the equivalent of giving the bird to their neighbouring countries).
Our driver Nick (suspect this is not his real name) drove us to the hotel where we threw our bags at the room and headed out post haste – apparently we need to be frantic in order to squeeze everything in. And squeeze them in we did. Our temple tour was fascinating and it easy to see why this place is generally the tourist focus of Cambodia. One thing no one mentioned was the exorbitant cost associated with seeing the ruins – however it appears the money is being ploughed back into the effort with well maintained roads, facilities and jobs for many locals.
First up was Banteay Srei Temple which was small (as it turns out) in comparison to the others. Very ornate and almost eerie (as they all are) when considering the amount of effort that went into building these structures over 1200 years ago. They still look great, possibly the eeriness is built up somewhat by the oppressive heat and humidity and the occasional waft of strange music drifting over the occasional breeze. The locals peddling their wares breaks the mood quite nicely though.
The countryside is very green and picturesque, rice fields, shanty towns and a plethora of rickety houses on stilts. Happy cows are prolific (apparently they must be happy because they are waving their tails).
Next we stopped at the Land Mine Museum and were thus duly reminded once again of the insidious nature of war and the stupidity of the human race in its ability to inflict pain on itself. Built in a tin shed by a dude with a chequered history we saw many remnants of armaments from all countries – it seems everyone has had a go here at one stage or another.
We then stopped off at Banteay Samre which was almost deserted, the only indication that someone was there was a faint hint of incense. Isabel and Dad were trying to find a way into the main chamber when we stumbled across a withered man sitting cross legged on a mat. He invited us to join him and took us through a ritual paying homage to Budda. Well – we assume that’s what was going on. After the mandatory lighting of the stick, waving it around and generally dripping in the heat he then told our fortunes by having us poke a stick in pile of inscribed cards. The accuracy of his predictions will never be verified as we have no idea what he was saying. After we dropped him a couple of dollars for his efforts he then lent us a torch so we could see what was inside the chamber. Total blackness surrounding a pile of rubble. We figured though the rubble was a broken statue of Budda – so we left with our question answered and possibly heading towards a bright future, or not.....
The next temple was the famous one in which Angelena strutted her stuff. It’s a hard fought battle, but the trees appear to be winning – given the forest seems to have had time on its side one would think it will reclaim its own eventually. The locals seem to be trying to capitalise on making the status quo last as long as they can though and subsequently are installing cranes and scaffolding to add to the ambiance.
On the way back we enjoyed the experience of some locals boys making a quick buck by singing for cash and then watching them scamper off into the bush when one of their seniors came along to see what they were doing.
When we got back to the hotel Dad made use of the internet and the girls hit the markets. Afterwards we headed off to dinner in the precinct of Pub Street. Full of tourists, great food (cheap) and not being hassled by the locals - a wonderful experience. It’s a pity it’ll be ruined in time by the ever increasing pressure of the buck.

Around Phnom Penh

Breakfast at Clements house was delightful and great start to a fascinating day. Seeing the town with Helen as the tour guide and Amy as her sidekick we headed off to try and get through the long list developed by napkin the night before.
After being measured for various garments and raiding a DVD shop we then headed to the Russian Market – named so for the type of tourists who originally started going there. This was a great place – a tad hot under the tin roof, full of interesting items and colourful people. We are starting to come to grips with the fact that the locals here are not so “in your face” as other countries – a very pleasant change.
Shops, shops and more shops and then lunch to restaurant with an Italian theme food and French décor (including the patrons). We then trundled aboard our chauffeured van and headed off for our history lesson. The Museum of Genocide was a stark reminder of the terror and violence bestowed on the masses through the Pol Pot era. The barbed wire is still there, the instruments of torture, the blood stains on the floor, the photos and pictures describing the horror made it all so clear, as did the tour guide who showed us her scares from the torture she suffered in the fields as 15 year old.
Being humbled and shocked at what humanity can do to itself we then headed off to the killing fields to see where the masses were taken to be disposed of. The Cambodians have gone/going to a fair effort to ensure this piece of history is not forgotten. And it should not be. 3 Million people killed, a society destroyed - all for the sake of a misguided political ideal.
Afterwards Dad headed off to drinks with the boys from work and a very interesting evening being shown around the various establishments. The town is very friendly and it was quite pleasant not to hassled every step by hawkers as per Thailand. The ladies went shopping at Pencil and purchased an Emelda load of shoes and had a massage after dinner. How very splendid.

A Long Haul to Cambodia

23 Hours Door to Door. Via Malaysia (just to tick off another country) and here we are – firmly ensconced in the Clements compound in Phnom Penh we get to sit back and reflect on our hectic day.
One benefit of flying out at 12:45 am means the traffic to the airport was non-existent, the car drop off easy, the wait to board ridiculous, the delayed take off understandable - considering the hurricane that was whipping through Melbourne at time. An extremely cramped sleep in the plane was bordering on unbearable. Similar to childbirth apparently – you tend to forget the pain so you keep going back.
Having 7 hours to kill in Kuala Lumpa, we decided to ignore the local’s advice and left the airport by catching a taxi and seeing at least some of the place. Malaysia seems to be a combination of palm plantations, buildings and preparations for more buildings. Without a doubt the economy is booming over there. We headed to a province called Putrajaya. We were hoping to get a sniff of the local culture – that we did – it just hasn’t been cultivating for too long in this area. It was, however, impressive. This is the seat of power in the country, a perfect balance of Government extravagance and Religious vigour all expressed in impressive buildings amidst picturesque waterways. They even went to the effort of putting a gondola on the water. Apart from the chipboard bowsprit we almost thought we were back in Venice........not really.
We did spend considerable time in the surrounds of the impressive mosque, The girls had to cover themselves up (fair enough too – just for the laugh of seeing then in their silly pink coveralls) and we had to take our shoes off in certain areas (after that long haul flight – they deserve the stench of smelly socks if they insist on us undressing). The religious education was immeasurable – we had no idea that Adam and Eve were Allah’s first prophets’ (he had thousands apparently) with Mohamed being the last. And they even have Jesus on the same genetic tree. So it all makes sense and finally we can put the whole argumentative divide to rest.
Enlightened, we went underneath the complex and had Nandos Chicken for lunch. Obviously the commercialisation of Peri Peri is endorsed by the Muslim faith. We caught the same taxi back to the airport. Ahmed the driver was adept at ignoring speed limits and taking up 3 lanes with one car. He also pointed out relevant tourists sites such as the home of the F1. The interconnectedness of all things is readily apparent on Malaysian roads.
A short hop to Phnom Penh, to be met by the warm hospitality of Helen and Amy was delightful. A notch downwards (societal wise) from KL with tight busy roads, poverty and general chaos was apparent on the way to the house (aka compound). Melbourne drivers could learn a lot from these people – it maybe chaotic, but it is friendly, people are patient, let everyone in and it all flows.
The Clements have a fabulous 3 level house in the better part of town. Hot and muggy after the Melbourne winter is a bit of a shock, however as we sat in the cooling evening air being watched over by gecko’s on the ceiling of the impressive front porch, we looked forward to a night on the town – possibly heading off to the Foreign Correspondence Club for dinner.
The dinner was great, the drinks cold and the company welcoming and very enlightening – there is so much to see and do here. The itinerary for the next day’s schedule was inscribed on a napkin and we eventually tumbled into our comfortable beds and collapsed in an exhausted slumber.