(all of the next posts were done back in the US)

02/02/02 - LOTR

Last night was a late one. Tom, my new English friend, and I were reduced to scrounging around for something to do after the regular bars closed at 2, and so my main activity of today was traveling down to Siam Square in the evening to catch a flick at the old megaplex. Fellowship of the Ring had just been released and so I cabbed over to where I thought it may be playing and low and behold, there it was playing in English with Thai subtitles. I bought my ticket (seat 6c) and my bucket of popcorn and jug of Miranda Red soda and started to walk in, but I was stopped at the door. Movie starts at 8 so no one's allowed in till 5 of. So I took my bucket and jug and wandered around the mall for 15 minutes, then went back to the theater. It was made to look like an old-school American theater except that it was in a mall and not in America. The velvet-like seats were nice though. After some previews, some angelic music started playing and everyone rose - including myself. Images of the revered king giving hungry children corn, helping old ladies cross the street and the like were projected for 5 or so minutes after which everyone (including myself) sat back down to enjoy the 3 hours of escapism that was part one of Lord of the Rings.
Didn't it rock?


2/3/02 - ?

Again, not sure what I did today. I know I had a Thai massage again which was realy good. I had had a pretty bad crick in my neck and she got it out. OTherwise, I probably slept late, read my books and I'm pretty sure I went out with Tom again that night for a drink or two, but no late night for me. No sirree. I had a date the next day, 6 AM with a TV and the New England Patriots.
Oh, and today, I kept running into people I knew, or rather had met while traveling. Very bizzare. I ssaw Yannis, the Greek from Lao, Chagi, the Israeli I shared a room with in Vientienne, Chris and Nikki a couple I had met in Battambang, Dominique and Alli, the couple I had met at the Siem Reap waterfall, and I kept bumping into Tom randomly on the street, him with his Bill Bryson and Lonely Planet: USA tucked under his arm.


2/4/02 - Today, we are all Patriots

I woke up a little late and missed kick off but was pretty proud of myself for making it out the dorr before 7. Watching the game in the morning was surreal. Watching the game in Bangkok was surreal. Watching the game alone - well, that sucked a little bit. I shared a bar with 2 Pats fans and 4 Rams fans though 2 of them were Italian and didn't count. So, no Jax, no Sour Cream and Onion, no subs, no Doritos. No beer even, but I did have a fruit shake.
So you don't need me to tell you how amazing the game was. I've never seen a sporting event like it. The commercials... they were different. I think the best one showed a sad couple separated for whatever reason, but made happy again because of their DTAC cell phones. Anyway, the first Pats championship ever and I missed it, in a sense. I couldn't toast in Back Bay or even watch the parade, but I think, maybe, it was a necessary requirement for me to be as far away as possible for them to win. When the kick was airborne I stood. When the kick looked true I raised my arms. When the kick went through the uprights, I screamed, I gasped. A tear streamed down my face, and again when Bob Kraft said "Today we are all Patriots and today the Patriots are Superbowl champions." Okay, so I was the freak in the bar. It was okay.
After the game I had errands to run and had now achieved the peak of efficiency in getting around Bangkok. I took the ferry. I took the skytrain. I didn't use a map.
By the end of the day, I had rescheduled my plane ticket and booked myself a diving course on Ko Tao. The bus left that night.


2/5/02 - 2/8/02 - Diver Down

I spent the next few days on Ko Tao getting my diving certification. The class started slowly, but by the end we were in open water swimming with the fishes. The diving was brilliant. We saw schools of big-eyed barracuda, huge trigger-fish, Angel and Rainbow fish were a regular and beautiful site and the cigar coral looked like nothing less than finely thrown pottery. My favorite of the underwater sea-life were the colorfull prickly little twig-like vegitation that instantaneously retreated into their little holes when you came near. I paid for the video, so you can see it all at your convenience.
The diving group was okay. There were a couple of dim bulbs who almost failed the written part of the exam which is meant to be a joke, but there were these two actors from England that were fun to hang with. One night we even went to this restaurant called Whitening that could have been straight from New York, down to the lowercase arial fonted sign, black menus and snazzy bar.
Otherwise Ko Tao was all about the diving.


2/9/02 - Bangkok again, yet again, once more

My fourth and last time in Bangkok. Four. 1, 2, 3, 4. This time I score a hotel with A/C and hot water. And again, my impression of Bangkok changes. I was hanging out with some friends from Siem Reap here, and we had a lot of fun. I got in late today from Ko Tao and just had a simple dinner and a few drinks. Or more than a few. I can't remember, which probably means it was more than few.


2/10/02 - Bi Bim Bop

Just hung out a shopped today. The most eventful event of the day was probably my dinner at this great Korean restaurant. I think it was mainly for Korean backpackers - or at least it was filled with Korean backpackers and I actually felt a little out of place; I didn't know whether to speak English or Thia. I got some Bi BIm Bop, though, it was great and huge and I (yes I) couldn't even finish.
I'm cruising through the narrative of these last few days because the trip is basically over. This is the denoument and it was mostly about reflecting and eating.


2/11/02 - Pat ping-Pong

The goilz dragged me out to Patpong today and the events are not fit for family consumption.


2/12/02 - Happy New Year

Today was Chinese New Year and we went down to Chinatown for the festivities. It was a thick swarm of people over about 6 or 7 blocks. Certainly bigger than San Genaro in New York, but a similar feel of food stalls and souvenir stands and people just milling around to look at other people.
At one point, a path was cleared, everyone stepping back to the invisilbe line delineated by the police. People started walking down the path and there were whispers that it was the Princess - the sister of the King. Eventually a throng of women walked by and everyone bowed. The throng passed and the "parade" was over as quickly as it started. We grabbed some great food at some stalls and as we were eating the dragon parade started. A glowing dragon was lifted around by a few dozen people. The eyes glowed and sparks and smoke flew out of its mouth and it made its way down the street and marched into the distance.


2/13/02 - Full circle

I spent my last day in Bangkok just as I had spent the first day: with the glinting, glistening temples of Wat Po and the Grand Palace. The lustre hadn't faded and I saw things I hadn't seen the first time - many new things. I made me feel that I could loop through SouthEast Asia again and have the same newness wash over me at each stop.

At night I found 2000 baht at the bottom of my backpack and treated 4 of us to a great sushi dinner.


2/14/02 - Homeward bound

I took advantage of the wonder of Singapore airport again, getting a haircut and a new pair of pants mostly in a state of shock of leaving my home of 3 months.
The stop over this time was Taipai at Chang Kai Shek airport - the worst airport I've ever seen.
As I flew home I thought of this quote from a Joseph Conrad's Youth:
"[...] most seamen lead, if one may express it, a sedentary life. Their minds are of the stay-at-home order, and their home is always with them - the ship; and so is their country - the sea. One ship is very much like another, and the sea is always the same. In the immutability of their surroundings the foreign shores, the foreign faces, the changing immensity of life, glide past, veiled not by a sense of mystery but by a slightly disdainful repetitiveness."



There are a few more things I wanted to write about, some final thoughts, but instead I will leave it at that and look at some of my pictures, drink tap water and be immoble for a while.

xoxo,
Marc

2/1/02 - Bangkok Redux Part II

It's my third time here in Bangkok, and each time I get a different impression. I'm back on Kao San road this time, location of my first landing, and if any of you have seen or read "The Beach" then you probably know what it's like. I don't even remember what I wrote about it 2 and a half months ago, but this time my adjectives of choice are: backpackered, loud, vibrant and convenient as all get out.
My glasses lenses are scratched beyond belief from the Khmer sand so I asked the hotel guy about a place to get new ones. Down the road, of course, was a place. Down the Kao San road. I walked a few minutes out my door, past the bootleg CD stands, past the dentist, the 7-11, the bar, the restaurants, the 6 or so guesthouses, the 3 internet cafes, the laundry, the 3 travel agencies - yes all in a few minutes walk because the street is built vertically - and got to the immacualte, profesional vision place, open 9 AM to midnight. Ten minutes and $60 later (less than half the price of the States) I was told to come back at 5 to pick them up.

1/28/02 - Angkor What?

It's my final night in town, and how could I spend at any other place other than Angkor What? - my favorite dive bar in town. This time I was solo instead of being accompanied by my cadre of women and my goal was to leave at 10 PM for my 6 AM bus departure. Unfortunately, I met a very interesting British ex-pat who's traveled the world as a nurse, working for, among others, the Saudi royal family (he was in Riyadh on 9/11 and was disgusted by the behaviour of the Saudi literati) and the Sultan of Brunei (owner of a Ferrarri station wagon for his polo gear). The electricity kept popping off, but through that, and perhaps because of my constant assistance with relighting the candles, the owner sort of offered me a job. Whew! The possibilities ranged afore me, but in the end I felt partial to my plan of beaching my last 2 week. I was in bed around 1.


1/29/02 - Battam Bang!

And of course I overslept through my alarm but I caught the boat to Battambang anyway and luckily it was too dark in the shuttle to the ferry for me to see the eyes of the people that I thought may be peaved at me. It turned out that there was one other late riser that held everyone up and he was the only one on the shuttle that was on my ferry. And he liked Tom Waits and John Zorn!

I'm not sure whether it is my own perception that's changed or whether Battambang is indeed the grumpiest town in Cambodia. Maybe I've developed a bit of an anti-motobike-driver stare, and it certainly isn't fair to contrast it with the country folks of the East or maybe I just don't find little kids waving at me as cute as I used to, but I found the people there a tad lame. Perhaps there is validity to the statement, however, because of Battambang's proximity to the Thai border.
The town was nice looking, regardless; like a bigger version of French-colonial riverside Kratie, and the hotel was a great value. $5 for a nice clean single with real bathroom (flush toilet), cable and a nice roof balcony.


1/30/02 - Last Day in Cambodia

I didn't do to much today, in effort to catch up from my sleepless Siem Reap nights. I did manage to play a few games of pool at the local pool hall where the kids crowded around the table to watch our pathetic display. Then I went for a $4 massage as my shoulder seems to have found itself a pinched nerve. The nerve is still pinching but the massage was decent.
At night we found a bar which always deadly for me, and I was tempted to stay out late, and even a few more days, but my visa expired soon and to make matters more complicated, the national election is this Sunday. (Do they know they scheduled it for Superbowl Sunday? How rude.) It's actually been exciting to be here in the run up to the election and it gives an interesting incite into Democracy. I am planning on writing a few big section on politics, travel and backpacker culture when I get back and can sit and reflect, but the fervor of the election has been growing. The lack of TVs mean that the 3 political parties take to the streets with big megaphones mounted on tractors, trucks or cars, plowing through city streets.


1/31/02 - Motors

If you had asked me, before I left:
"Marc, how many engine blocks will you sit on during your trip through Asia?"
I probably would have said zero. Potentially I would have said Maybe one. Well, today's Daiwoo 6 cylinder has brought the vacation total to 2. Another Cambodian trip, another pickup ride. This one was thankfully only 3 hours, but I did spend it perched in the back of the truck on an engine being traansported to Sisophon, the midway point between Battambang and my destination, Poipet. Today was all travel for as soon as I reached Poipet (but not before the truck driver tried to scam me - I knew better this time), I crossed the border on foot into Thailand, then motobiked to the bus station, then borded the bus to Bangkok.
The border crossing made me reflect onhow great of a time I've had in Cambodia. It's a multi-layered, multi-textured, multi-faceted country that's in the midst of significant transition. The regional differences give the country a deeper flavor and there's never a shortage of people worth talking to or things to do. I am going to miss Cambodia and though I've said it about every country I've visited, I truly hope to come back soon.
And so, here I am, in Bangkok, for the third time with but 2 weeks of time left on my trip.
I think I'll spend it on the beach to even out my sandle tan.

1/25/02 - Mighty Angkor

The Pyramids. The Lost City of Petra. Rome. None of it prepared me for the... it's difficult to pick but a few adjectives... vastness? enormity? immense beauty? imposing importance?... well let's just say that Angkor was impressive
I arrived in Siem Reap in the afternoon on the 24th and there isn't much to say about it. It's completely based around the tourist industry of the ruins of Angkor and has nothing to otherwise distinguish it from any other Cambodian town.
I declined a first night visit to Angkor Wat for sunset and decided to save it all for the next day.
I arrived there for sunrise, on the 25th. The driver dropped me off and my head was reeling from the freezing motorbike ride, being up at 5:30 AM and from the anticipation of seeing this world-famous site. I got off the bike, looked around and then had to ask "Um, where direction do I go?"
After being pointed rightly, I could barely make anything out in the near-moonless sky. I found a spot to stand, and waited for the sun to reveal all. And then the sun came, slowly, steadliy from behind the massive main complex and first the simple size of the structure was revealed, its silouette black in front of the sun. The 800 year old temple is three large stories high and extends for hundreds of yards in each directiomn. As I walked closer, it loomed larger and as the sun climbed higher, Angkor revealed its intricacies. Bas-reliefs depicting Hindu and Buddhist myths crovered the walls and every window and doorway was framed with carefully done carvings of apsaras, vines, gods and animals, while inside every window stone posts mimiced routered wood.
The 5 peaked image of Angkor Way is depicted on the current Cambodian flag and hopefully the pictures will capture some of it's greatness.
After climbing to the top, I came back down and walked around the entire interior of one of the permeter walls. On it was carved, in fine detail, the entire story of "The Churning of the Milk" the Gods's quest for immortality and the mighty battles that are part of Hindu and Buddhist mythology.
And Angkor Wat is but a portion of the Angkot ruins. Built over the course of 400 years (800 AD to 1200 AD) by South East Asia's greatest Empire, Angkor was "discovered" by Europeans some 140 years ago. Angkor Wat is the most immense of the structures while Angkor Thom - the city of Angkor - was my next destination.
It consisted first of the Bayonne, a multi=peaked structure with a huge image of the ubiquitous visage of Jayavarman IV on each face of each tower. Each side was perfectly aligned with the compass and each building had its entrance on the Buddhistly fortuitous East as did every bulding at Angkor. Angkor Thom was sprawling with Elephant Terraces, Kleangs and various other things whose purpose it still a pystery to me but they certainly made for nice photos.
After Angkor Thom, I went, with some new friends, to Ta Phrom. Overgrown with trees and vines, Ta Phrom makes you feel as if you are Indiana Jones or some European explorer hacking away with a machete. The jungle temple is not being renovated due to the trees growing within it's walled boundaries and so you're filled with the images of a crumbling empire left to rot and the wonderful juxtoposition of man and nature.
There I ran in to a star from Australian TV. I wouldn't have known and would have just chatted with him idly about his time in New York if the Australian I was with hadn't said something. Apparently the show is huge and is called something like "The Story of Us" and sounds like a more realistics, slighty more dramatic version of friends. If anyone's seen the show, let me know.
Ta Keo was next, one of the many minor temples that would have ordinarily impressed but otherwise merely fascinated.
I finished with sunset on top of Phnom Bakeng, a moutain that overlooked Angkor Wat and has it's own temple on top as well. It was a little bit of a tourist circus up there, but after "sunset" when the sky was just getting ready for the final splash of color, everyone headed down leaving the peak peaceful and pretty.
The ride home that evening inspired thoughts of an Angkor filled with people, and a New York City as ruins and a tourist destination 1000 years hence.
My hostel had one customer - me - and unfortunately kept losing electricity and hot water.
At night, I met with my 3 new accomplices and we ate and drank and were merry till 4 AM at a bar called "Angkor What?" - finally the pun you've been waiting for. Funnily, one of the bartenders there was a girl from Phnom Penh from the night of dancing. Small country.


1/26/02 - Little Cambodians

The next day I passed one sunrise - in fact I think I've seen more sunrises on this trip that I'd seen in my entire life prior.
Today, we went to Banteiy Srei, a complex an hour away that provided a nice contrast the yesterday. The temple was very small with 5 foot doorways and narrow halls and made mostly from a pinkish red laterite. The carvings have preserved themselves better than anywherre else, and so the craftwork of these tiny little ancient Khmers was really evident here.
Afterwards, I went to see a piddly waterfall - at least piddly compared to the high standards that have been now set - with the Aussie TV star and two of his friends. I was beat though, and after that headed home for a nap and then more drinking at Angkor What? This time the bar closed early but the bartender (named Mark) led us to Zanzibar, a rat infested place run by a Frenchmen.


1/27/02 - Final Day

Sunrise again, or so was the plan. I couldn't wake at 5:30, but by 6:30 I met my motodriver and we saw a few more temples. At this point I was ruins-weary and even only snapped 10 or so photos - if you can believe it.
The highlight that day was probably Preah Kan, very similar to Ta Phrom - the jungle temple - but a bit more secluded.
One more night at Angkor What?, but this time only till 11 as my friends were off the next day to Thailand.
I'm taking a day of rest today, tocatch up on sleep, then tommorow, I'm off to race against the 4 days left on my visa, seeing how much more I can get out of Cambodian before I, too, return to Thailand to wrap up the last month of my trip.

1/17/02 - Chasing Waterfalls

Nick and I and got 2 moto drivers to take us round the coutryside. We saw two gorgeous waterfalls that we clambered around. We then went to the crater lake which was cloudy because of a once-every-dive-years algae attack, but it was great to lie around and sunbathe. I was covered in a not-too-fine layer of dust and so then, it was nice to rinse it all off in the lake. My clothes were now dirty and so as to not ruin any more will now get dirtier each day.
The stroll aorund the lake was filled with crazy birdcalls and there was even a tribal museum that showed local instruments, pots and tools. The caretakers were very cordial and seemed happy to see us show up. Then on our way out, two girls actually came up to us and gave us flowers. I thanked them in Khmer and they seemed pleased , if significantly lacking in English vocabulary.
That night, the dust filled sunset was amazing - I think I snapped 20 pictures that first night, the shadows of motorbikes and pinks and reds reflecting in the airborne sand made for a picturesque evening.
After we went to the Ratanak Hotel for their barbecue that had been reccomended to me in Stung Treng port by some people coming back in the opposite direction. The meal was great. We were given a little hibachi and a bunch of raw meat and veggies and proceeded to completely screw everything up. Nick poured the egg on the grill and i placed some meat on it. When the smoke cleared, the restaurant waiters poured the remaining egg on the plate of raw meat and mixed it, then covered the grill in the butter.
We finally got the hang of it and gorged ourselves.
Afterwards we had a few beers at the place the girls from the lake worked because Nick wanted to check it out. He flirted for a while, then we went home and spent the night talking about the Khmer and the Lao and the Thai.
The Lao, we figured, were a little bit daft. More country bumpkins, and fated for some hard years as the country lacks resources or tourism attractions. They were genorous, trusting and trustworthy.
The Khmer were a little harder, sharper and eager to see the tourists strarting to roll in. They have dealt with Pol Pot's persecution, and wear their scars with neither pride nor shame, but with a blunt matter-of-factness. Being a little more clever, you had to have your wits about you at times and though many were generous, some wouldn't hesitate to rip you off.
The Thais were nearly Westernized.


1/18/02 - A gem of a day

We woke up even early today at the demand of our moto drivers. First thing I did was go to the market to buy my own scarf to protect my nose and mouth from the dust.
It was a long and bumumumumumum-py ride to the first site, some gem mines. On the way we passed tribal villagers carrying baskets of fruits, old women smoking pipes and leaf cigarettes, young girls balancing baskets of bananas on their head.
We got to hte mines which was quite an amazing operation, and me, being the ham that I am, took them up on their offer to descend down into one of the vertical mines.
50 feet i climbed down, feet pressed against the mud sides, hands searching for the divots in the earth.
I reached bottom a little tired where two miners were digging with but a candle. One was smoking and they had found a few gemstones that day that they dhowed me. I started back up, and started feeling lightheaded in the bad air. I couldn't find the divots for feet nor hands. I pressed both legs frontwards pressing my back into the side of the tunnel. It was much harder climbing up.
You may have accidently seen a post I meant to delete a few weeks ago that read "Today I farted", Well, indeed, under the exertion, I let one rip. My erruption triggered an erruption of laughter in the miners. Perhaps a nervous laughter wary of an immenent explosion? Regardless, I'm sure it was a story they'd tell for days. The miner, sensing my distress, climbed up below me and had me use his arms as steps. I saw light and then the divots. The air was getting fresher and I scrambled up the last 20 feet on my own.
It took 20 minutes of fresh air for me to recover from near vommitting as everyone laughed at me in a good natured way.
Back on the motorbike (ugh! my ass was bruised like a bad apple) to another waterfall. All day and the day prior, kids would run out of their houses at the site of house and scream Hello Hello and wave. The further out we got today, the more it devolved into some sort of Budweiser-like ad. Hello became Hullo then Ellloooooo, Aa-oooo and finally just shouts Aaaaaaaaaa as we whipped by. Funny thing is, whenever we stopped, they would run back into their houses and peek out through their windows. I think Nick and I were more of a curiosity to them as they were to us.
Trucks kicked up dust coming the other way making it hard to see, but our motordriver were strong and true. The drive was great - winding through jungles and fields and North Amercian-like forests. We saw water-buffalo and storks on lilly covered ponds.

We stopped for lunch in a Ta Phom village and were stared at when we sat.
I, being the absent-minded loon that I am, left me wallet at the food stall. The woman came running after me with it and it's contents, one month's worth of customers for her. The generosity of the people her is staggering. They have less than any people I've seen but through their willingness to give it all to someone who needs it more, through their lack of concern of possessions, they become the richest people in the world. In the measure of humnanity, generousity and hospitality will always tip the scale over success and ambition.

So the waterfall - this one took the cake. Gorgeous flowing multi-storied., I rinsed myself in it and tried to clean my shirt of the tunnel
mud.

An interesting dynamic was evolving with the moto drivers and they seemed to have had a lovers tiff while Nick and I crossed across the falls. Nick's driver was more of a father figure and my guys seemed more like the eldest son. I think it was over a controversy about pressing on further into the jungle or letting us walk somewhere.

We finished the day on a hill-top wat that overlooked the Lao and Vietnamese borders. Nick's driver talked of American bombs whose devastation can be seen from the hill, and the Khmer dislike for the Vietnamese who, he felt, were overrunning Cambodia since they helped rid the country of Pol Pot.

At night we went back to the Ratanak restaurant. At this point, I think Nick and I hav eendeared ourselves to a bunch of the older women at the restaurant and hotel. They poke their heads into our room every once and a while just to see what we're up to. And tonight, they kept brining us plate after plate of fruit till we were taking on the shape of the pineapple we were valiantly trying to finish.


1/19/02 - Day Off

We took a day off and spent most of it in our beautiful hotel room. At night, we had another dinner of BBQ, this time we were experts, and then we hit the bar next door, finding ourselves the only ones in there. They turned on some music and the xmas lights for us, and even turned down the TV a bit.


1/20/02 - Village People

Apparently, the tiff between our drivers came to a head. Nick's driver showed up. Mine was amiss. He had apparently found another customer who was willing to pay twice as much, who we later saw to be Cambodian-American. No loyalty. He was Vienamese.

We got another one instead and headed up to see some of the ethnic-minority villages further north across a small river.
It ended up being a chill day. The villagers seemed wary of us and at times we felt inappropriate walking around their schools and yards. There was a Lao community with some ramshackle houses that was indeed friendly - the kids gathered round and imitated everything I said and some crazy guy, part pied piper of the kids, kept wanting to show us his boat, over and over.
The Chinese village was more xenophoibc, the houses more elaborate and better built.

We got home, passed out, skipped dinner, but didn't go to bed without stopping next door. They had cleaned up since the nihgt befgore. The pile of beer cans was gone from the corner and there were ripped table cloths on the table.

1/21/02 - And Back Again

This time, isntead of a 2 day travel ordeal, I went straight to Kratie from Ban Lung. I think this particular road is famous for being the worst in Cambodia. It was rough. I rode the rough of the pickup cab for a bit, on a pile of bags for another part. 8 hours came and went slowly and by the end, we had lost our brakes. The driver deivsed another way of stopping, but not before taking out a pile of boxes on the street. It guess it goes to show how remote we were - it took an arduous 8 hour ride just to get back ot Kratie.
At night I roomed with yet again someone new. Pat - an Australian.


1/22/02 - Missing Hands

Came back to Phnom Penh today, same guesthouse as before. On the boat ride (Oh Mighty Mekong, Take me where you rivers flow), I rode the roof next to a men with both hands missing and yet still managed to smoke. 15 feet away (no pun intended) a man had an artificial leg. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this, but the number of people (all men) missing limbs is staggering. There are still landmines all over, and yet, as I said, they seem to take it all in stride. Crutched limping men is a common site to me now, and usually I will put 100 reil in their cup and try to smile. They have no trouble smiling.


1/23/02 Phnom Penh Redux

Took care of some errands today - I was running low on cash and books and refilled on each. They don't have ATMs here, but you can get a chargwe against your CC for cash at only a 2% charge.
I visited the Bibliotheque Nationale - Natiotnal Library and the only really amusing thing of the day was when a motobike driver I was talking to near the abandonned train station plucked a white hair off my head.
Lunch was great a French place and tomorrow I'm off to Angkor Wat, supposeldy one of the most spectacular sites in the world.

Sitting here in the internet cafe (snacked on by mosquitos) reflecting on my 3 weeks, I'm very glad I've come to Cambodia. The past 3 weeks have been great and my trip to Ban Lung is definitely one of the highlights. I have a small $5 gem souvenir of my trip down the mine, not that I'd ever forget it.

1/13/02 - Eastern Cambodia

What happens when you reach the end of the earth, but then you keep going? And after you reach wherever that may be, you go even further till you reach someplace where the only way you can leave is to go back the way you came?

Kratie is described by some travel writer as the "end of the world" and it didn't seem too far off when I got there. It was a boat trip up the Mekong again. Oh, the mighty Mekong, the veins of South East Asia. You really appreciate what a river does for an area - why so many cities are on rivers - when you're in a country like Cambodia that lacks decent road and rail.

My hotel room in Kratie was the best in town according to the old guidebook. It was a corner room with an enormous balcony overlooking the city market. I spent the first day walking around town, a few streets back from the river and I was quickly beset by throngs of children. They seemed genuinely amazed at my presence, and then - then - I brought out the digital camera. I showed them pictures of themselves and they screamed and cheered and clambered for more pictures. I reached the end of their block, though, and they fell away.
People kept initiating conversations with me as I strolled. I spoke French with an older Khmer man who helped me refine my pronunciation of "Ta-ne chmoo avay" - "What is your name?". His niece with him was one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, but I felt inappropriate taking a picture. His sister-in-law had black teeth - again inappropriate photo material.
Later I met two young guys named Kimsin and Chin Vary. They were so genuinely interested in getting to know me and practice their English that we planned to meet the next day.


1/14/02 - Dolphin

Today, I went up the river a bit to see the Irrawady dolphins that make this town an attraction. I did, in fact, see some fins and even the face of one dolphin on my hour boat trip across the river. The boat driver also spoke French, further remnants of the France's colonialism.
Chin Vary and Kimsin met me there and they insisted on paying for my lunch. I went with them to Wat Sombok, a wat on a hill. After that, I visited both of their homes, but not before wiping out on my motorbike. Chin Vary lived with only his sister in a cement 1 story building 2 minutes uotside of town. Their home was modest, and he, as well as Kimsin, was a teacher. He taught at the state school during the day and at a private English school at night. Kimsin still lived with his parents, 2 sisters and their 2 babies. They had a pretty wooden A frame house with a back porch and separate kitchen.
After washing up, they each took me to the schools where they taught English, and I ended up teaching both classes, an hour each.
The first class were mainly beginners and we went over the basics of asking names and ages and marital status.
An entire class of Cambodians now knows my father's name, that he's 58 and a hospital manager. Same with my brother and mother - all faithfully transcribed in their notebooks. The class was made up of younger kids from 11 to 16 and were as diverse as a typical classroom. Some were shy, some answered aloud without being called on. I never realized how difficult it is to keep an entire group of kids together paying attention, all learning.
The next class was more advanced and we chatted for an hour about city versus country and I guess I was getting hungry because we soon started talking about restaurants and food. One kid kept insisting that "coke" was a vegetable but eventually he came settled on "salad" instead. This class was a little more diverse in age - about 13 to 25 - and and there were even two monks in the back.

After my 2 hours of teaching, I treated Chin Vary and Kimsin to dinner at one of the nicer resturants in town. One dish ended up being liver - yum! Kimsin then ordered a turtle and I was dismayed to see it arrive, completely dismembered and cut up with its own shell as a bowl. More dismay when Kimsin sucked the brains out of the head. We also had Cambodian cheese. I was sort of psyched to try it as I love all forms of cheese. Well, real cheese anyway. Cambodian cheese is sauce covered fish placed underground for a few weeks till it's all mushy.

Back at the hotel, the "manager" there confronted me.
"I know where you were this evening" he said. He was about 14 years old and had a lame leg. He ran the guesthouse and could speak both English and French and seemed quite smart, if a little cheeky.
"Is that so? Well where was I?"
"You taught at the school and then ate at [restaurant name that escaped me]" he said in his almost Michael Caine like accent.
I'm not excatly sure what was going on here, but I think the kid was essentially the prince of Kratie. He ran the most popular guest house in town and seemed to have a cadre of younger siblings and cousins at his beck-and-call. On my trip back through town, I began to suspect he spent most of the day drunk.


1/15/02 - One goal realized

Today I had the choice of going to either Ban Lung or Sen Monorom, both east and both ends-of-the-line. The draw of Ban Lung was a crater lake, the draw of Sen Monorom is that I had to transfer in a town called Schlong.
All my life I've wanted to go to a town named after a lewd body part, and this was my chance.
"How big is Schlong?" I asked.
"How long is it to Schlong?"
"Do you like Schlong?" I cracked myself up till I realized I had already been through Schlong (insert your own pun here) on my way from PP. To Ban Lung it is, then. One lifetime goal realized.

The Mekong ride to Stung Treng was the best yet. I tanned on the boat roof and there was nary a heavy or ho from the tides of the river. The sunet was immaculate and to cap it off, we made it to Stung Treng late, so after the sun was down, to add a little adventure to the whole trip. Lighthouse? Right. Stung Treng made Kratie - "the end of the earth" according to that guy - seem busy. I stayed the night and was off the next day even further east.


1/16/02 - Frontier Town

The van ride from Stung Treng was a trip, for sure. The roads were pocked with holes, as if the earth were revolting against the concrete. Or, as it turned into later, flat dirt. It was a dusty road to town and we broke down twice on the 4 hours trip. The second time was fatal for the van and a pickup took us the last 30 km.
Ban Lung is like an old West town from a John Wayne or Clint Eastwood movie. Wide dusty streets, with stores spread thinly along them. Khmers wrapped in scarves riding high on their horses - I mean motorbikes - to and from the market. I fell in love with the vibe, the fell. This was an end of the earth, a frontier. The only way somewhere was back the way we came.
I joined forces with a Brit named Nick and we shared an enormous room at the mountain guesthouse. Electricity was intermitent and have I mentioned that I haven't had a hot shower in this country?
I had a dish called loclac and some of the best french fries ever at the Ratanak Restaurant!

1/8/02 - Same Same, but Different

The character of Phnom Penh falls somewhere between Bangkok and Vientiene. That's a bit like saying it's somewhere between a 2 of clubs and a king of hearts, but it does indeed have elements of both of the other SE Asian capitals I've seen. Like Vientienne, it's an old French-colonial town with crumbling buildings, French restaurants and a slow-paced backwater feel. But it's also a growing metropolis and traffic congests as the city sprawls. It is deceptively big and takes a long while to walk from one landmark to the next,
much less end to end. It has tall multi-story buildings, but some side streets you travel down have the feel of a small village miles away.
I'm staying in a backapcker oriented area on a lake, but it's also saturdated with locals - Khmer houses, Khmer shops, Khmer signs lit in Xmas lights advertising things I'll never imagine. The guesthouse I checked into first was a real dud, so I moved a few days later into a nicer and cheaper place a few doors down. Both have great lakeside eating areas that are great for sunset. One of the guest houses on the strip is called Same Same But Different and seems the culmination of a particular joke within SE Asian traveler's
zietgiest.
The pidgin English here has invented, as one of it's phrases, Same Same but Different. It's a great phrase, capturing a subtle meaning that's lacking in standard English, much as so many Yiddish words do.
Vientienne and Phnom Penh? Same same, but different.
Chocolate milk and Ovaltine? Same, same, but different.
Bush and Gore? Same, same, but different.
At first you just notice the locals use "Same same", then it seems to grow to "SS but different", then you start using it yourself. Then, I guess after a certain time, or perhaps once you've reached a certain place, it becomes a travelers joke.
One night in Sihanoukville I was explaining something to Karl "Same, same." I said.
"But different?" he asked.
I laughed. "But different."
In fact, while traveling you sometimes find yourself thinking completely within the frame work of the pidgin English here.
"Take taxi to train. Hm, no can do. Money no have. Can take motobike; nice price."


1/9/02 - Phnom Penh

My first 2 days in Phnom Penh I take in most of the major sites. The grand palace, a few wats, the 2 main markets and also the S21 former Khmer Rouge prison. I can't speak about the prison right now, but perhaps I'll be able to at a later date.
My first night, I check out the FCCC - Foreign Correspondent's Club of Cambodia. It is thick with atmosphere; of American Vietnam war correspondents having a beer, of reporters writing about Pol Pot's regime having dinner. It's in a pretty colonial building overlook the Tonlé Sap River's confluence with the Mekong. I even ran into Karl there after we had gone our separate ways after Sihanoukville.
The FCCC has the feel of a perfect place to plan to meet someone - on an entire world level. Like the observation deck of the Eiffel tower, or the top floor of the Empire state bldg. And so, I scheduled to meet Carmen and Monica - the two sisters from the Chiang Mai trek, there the next night. That night, I had a great French meal at a restaurant called La Croissette where a child's organization was holding a dance performance. Some really cool moves.


1/10/02 - Phnom Chisor and Rocking Cambodia
The next day, I rented a motorbike planned to check out some of the out of town sites. My plan was to get to Phnom Chisor around 1 or 2. I didn't get moving till later, and the 50 km on the 100cc motorbike took longer and was much more arduous than I'd have thought. Add to that the 40 minutes I spent on the wrong road, and I didn't get there till close to 3. The ride was an experience - the road - one of the main highways was severely potholed and just dirt in spots. I stopped a few times to ask directions and took food break here and there and though I was only a few dozen kilometres out of twon, the experience was very rural - transported me back to
pre-industrial times (Aside from the bikes and the coke bottle liters of gas they sold on the side of the road). There are of course things you see on foot that you'd miss on a bike, but I was also surprised to find the reverse was also true. The curve and nature of the landscape, the condition of the roads, the gradations and progression of the changing population demographics.
So, I got to the base of the 500 steps that lead up to Phnom Chisor. I started my climb and a young boy (4 or 5) and a girl (10 or so) joined me. What made me feel real top-notch was that after 400 or so steps I was the one weezing and clutching my sides and the kids just stared up at me. They led me to modern wat that had a clearing aroud it so you could see the entire surroundings. It was a clear day (they all have been) and I could see far far far. Cambodia is flat. Flat in almost a creepy way. No ripples in the terrain
360 degrees around aside from two small hills that dotted the landscape. I hadn't found the ruins though, but I did find an older gentleman who showed me around. It was pretty amazing and you could still make out reliefs of various Hindu Gods in this old pre-Angkorian temple.

At night I found Monica and Carmen, and we had dinner then went to the bar Heart of Darkness. The bar's decor was really great, the bar-tenders nice and the drinks some of the better I've had. I think a great lifetime activity would be to compile a world bar guide with the best bars around the globe. Heart of Darkness would make it for it's decor along with Iron Doors in Prague for its cavern-cool and
absinth, Blue Hole in Jerusalem for its hyper-friendly atmosphere, McMinimins in Portland for it's perfect jukebox and mosiacs and in New York... so many to choose from. The streets in PP are all numbered and it's made me nostalgic for home.
We had a great time at the bar. The defining moment of the night was the second time the Daft Punk song "One More Time" came on. Monica and I jumped off the mostly empty make shift dance floor onto a small stage. We started clapping and jumping in the air eventually joined by Beej and UK-Dred, two English guys we met that night, and by the end of the song. the bar had turned
completely into a nightclub. We danced the night away, and I half expected everything to be brought to an abrupt end by a tank crashing through the front door.
A week prior to my arrival in Cambodia the Prime Minister announced that night clubs would be closed because of its bad moral influnce, with military force if necessary. My parents actually caught that bit of news as well, and had assumed that it was because they heard I was coming to town.
I learned another language inb which to toast, and am approaching my goal of learning it in 18 different languages, much like Tom Robbins' Switters learning 72 versions of Vagina.
So far I have:
Cheers, L'chayim, Au santé, Pröst, Proost, Chock Dii, Sock Dii, the one in Czech that Jason will have to remind me of, and now Oh Kee-ow.
.And so, Oh Kee-ow

1/2/02 - Kampuchea, Cambodge, Cambodia

My first encounters with Cambodia have ended up being prescient of all my thoughts of the country as a whole.
After crossing the border at Hat Lek, you are forced to buy a ticket from the police for a ride to the first port. I bought the ticket, turned to the corwd of moto and taxi drivers, and the ticket was ripped from my hand. I chased it down, and insisted on getting the taxi ride I had paid for instead of the moto ride. At the port, we boarded, esentially, a plastic pool with a motor. A we waited for it to fill with passengers, we saw the people arriving from the other direction, crossing into Thailand, trying to make the 5 PM border close. As the little plastic pools filled with tourists reached the dock, other boats would zoom in from all directions crashing and bumping each other. When the dock was within in jumping distance, the Cambodians lept into the travellers's boat, grabbed their bags and leapt off with them to the looks of horror on the faces of the bag owners. These men were desperate for customers in their taxis and motorbikes and had taken extreme measures to ensure a fare for the day. And, so too, through the rest of Cambodia there are motorbike drivers riding around town, desparate for fares. I walk the streets of Phnom Penh and every few minutes I hear "Motobike, Sah?" "Where you go?" "Mistah, you need motobike?" "Killing Fields? Want ride to killing fields?" Their tactics range from reserved and polite to obnoxious, whistling and honking to get your attention, following you yards down the street. God forbid you should pull out a map on the street. At first I thought they were just extremely friendly, trying to help you get where you're going, but every where you want to go is "Very fah. 4 kilometre" or closed "Go to grand palace today?" So, there're the harrasing motorbike driver and also prevalent in Cambodia are beggers and streethawkers - men with outstretched hats, kids clutching their belly moaning "Yum, yum" then returning to their soccer match after you leave, women raising their starving children to your face. The streethawkers are either children or women and they and don't accept no easily. "Pineapple, mistah?" ""You buy banana chips, mistah". All of this can only wear on all but the coldest of hearts, and so you get defensive, hesitate to talk to strangers, stop looking people in the eye.
But in doing so, you then miss out on one of the best aspects of the country.
To whit, that night I stayed in a guest house with a 44-year-old German, Karl and a Dutch couple. The owner was a wonderful man. He had survived Pol Pot but was cowed by the demands of the taxi maffia that nearly dictated in which guesthouses people stayed. The place is in Koh Kong Krong and is called Cheap Charlie's and though it's rustic I highly recommend it. Mr Hang's family was wiped out by the socialist psychopath and he had given up his career working in a hospital to flee to the countryside.
The similarities to Nazi Germany and Stalinist Russia are striking and would be even more resonant when I visited one of the former prisons. The whole time I am here, my perception is constantly influenced by this pervading sense of sadness about Pol Pot (you see few old people), the American war (destroyed temples, landmines) and the current corrupt regime. I'm amazed at how resilient and cheery many people are despite missing family memebers or missing legs.
And after a few days, you realize that the motobike drivers are almost always smiling when they ask you if you want a ride, and keep smiling after you say no. And very few of them pester you at all. And all of them are just trying to make and honest buck - or fraction of a buck, and if you keep that in mind, you don't get annoyed, and it makes it easier to say "No, or-kuhn" (No thank you) a few dozen times a day.

1/3/02 - Sea Travel

Today we took a boat from Koh Kong Krong to Sihanoukville. The poor condition of the roads and speed of the train have made sea travel the most reliable form of getting places in Camdodia. If youtraveling all the Mekong or coast, you're in luck. If not, you're not in luck. The end of the boat trip was very bumpy as we were on open sea, and there was this French guy on the boat who was talking to himself the whole time.
We arrived in Sihanoukville, Cambodia's beach town, and had a now-familiar dealing with some moto drivers. All 4 of us (me, Karl, Janika and Jasper) checked into the same place so we got 4 moto drivers. The one I rode with was rather spooky. He wore aviator glasses and a camouflaged cap and jacket. His pinky finger nails were long and he had a very evil smile behind the reflective shades. He would be at our guest house every morning, hoping to give us a ride somewhere, and would flash an angry look when he was me on someone else's motorbike, or riding my own.


1/4/02 - Abandonned Paradise

Sihanoukville is Cambodia's only beach resort and is requisitely suited. Squeeky white sand (it really squeeks when you walk on it!), blue water and palms. But it has the feel of Coney Island in the winter (but in the summer). There are crumbling hotels and the beaches are empty for miles. Cambodia is one of the poorest countries in the world, outside of Africa, and is still new to toursits as the Khner Rouge were defeated only 3 years ago. This beach town reflected that and you could visualize luxury bungalows and chain hotels dotting the town in a dozen years.
Our own guesthouse was very nice. Again, on a rock cliff, Karl and I shared the "deluxe" bungalow that had a porch posied for sunset. It was much more modest than Koh Chang's hotel, but was only $5 a person. The place was run by a Frenchman and his Vienamese wife and the food there reflected that great combination.
During the day, we rented some motor bikes and made an effort to visit a nearby national park. We took a beach break on the way, and lazily rocked in hammmocks to the sound of a mother singing to her child backed by the waves lapping the empty beach. We didn't make ot to the park in time for the boat trip, nor would we make it later. Sihanoukville is a lazy-daze place and it's best to set your sites on accomplishing just one thing a day.
At night I had a watered down Smirnoff at the local bar which had 3 or 4 guys smoking joints with the Cambodians waitresses.


1/5ish/02 - Beached

The next few days are a little bit blurred together, but the highlights:

One night Karl and I had maritinis at this restaurant perched very high over the entire city called Chez Claude watching sunset.

At one point, motorbiking to the train station to investigate a train going to Kampot, I was pulled over by the police, their caps askew. I hadn't done anything wrong, but the officer wanted a $2 fine payment. I resisted and he relented, dropping to $1. Emboldened by the knowledge that indeed this was a bribe and not a real violation, I took leave of judgement and ranted at him. Ranted at him for not caring about his country, not caring for his people. I paid up, though and continued on to the abandonned train station. Or so it seemed. Apparently train ran, and the 120 km trip to Kampot supposedly took 10 hours. Train came at 6 AM on odd numbered days and returned on eve numbered days.

I've had some good meals here and have eaten lizard and frog. I also had a shot of whiskey that was pickling a snake, as snake essense is supposed to increase virility. Thse combined with the cricket I ate in Pattaya and the tequila worm I had in Arlington has made the past few months cullinarily exploratory.

Another night, I had drinks at a semi legendary bar called Moonshine that's open all night where I found a foozball table. They didn't know how to make a real maritni there (Chez Claude made them weird) and so I taught them and I had my first real martini of the trip. Here, they just pours vermouth into a glass.
The next day I played chess and pingpong with some Germans I had met there at this freaky hostel. There was a monkey chained to a tree and everyone had tattoos and spit a lot and smoked a lot of dope. Then, a crippled Englishman pulled up in a jeep, took the spitting prize then beat me in chess.
The next day was more hangin' ; the day after I woke up achy and headachy, so I decided to pack it in and continue on to Phnom Penh. Also, internet here was $5, phone calls expensive and I need to take care of some things at home and fix a camera. I wanted to see Kampot and I didn't know what to expect out of the capitol, but I gave it a shot anyway.

12/31/01 - 2001

We had to wake up really early to catch a boat off of Ko Samet to continue to Ko Chang. We did, but that little slip of paper with our reservation - gone. After saying, over and over again, we can't lose this piece of paper, we can't lose this piece of paper, I manager to lose it in a room smaller than my Manhattan bedroom. We tear the place apart, can't find it, make frenetic frantic phone calls on Jid's cell phone trying to recover the information, and in the end, Dave is able to contact the agency and things are taken care of.
The bus from one port to the next was leaving at 9, though, and it was already 8. We rush and hurry, are late for the bus, but in the end, we make it. We make it to Ko Chang , to our hotel, and it was great. A beutiful place, perched above beach rocks. The room was nice and clean and, I think, even had hot water. The food there was great and though our beach front was unwalkable we were but a few doors down from the blue-water palm treed paradise of White Sands beach.
I scope the beach, finding the happeningest spot for tonight, then head back for a nap.
New Years Eve starts with us sleeping through my my wrist watch alarm ro darkness. It was only 8 o"clock, though.
At dinner I order a whiskey and coke and they bring me a whiskey and coke. An entire bottle of whiskey, a glass bottle of coke.
We wrap up dinner and I march the three of us to Sabay bar.
The night was great. It was about 72.6 degrees F, the water was warm enough that you didn't even have to pause when you went in past your "zone", palm trees swayed, mountain loomed, and for the occasion of New Years they had fireworks and disco balls and stereos blasting all along the beach.
At 11:58 they chose "The Final Countdown" and cut into ""All You Need is Love"" at midnight.


1/1/02 - 2002

I sprinted to the edge of the tide, stripped to my boxers and plunged in as my first act of 2002. My next few acts involved Mai Thais,
accidently insulting a girl with a lisp, staying up till 8 and leaving the beach last of the last. Swedish and Dutch families were arriving on the beach with their children before myself and the last few had left. One of the other last standing was a guy from New York who had gone to school at the Little Red Schoolhouse in the village, and whose brother supposedly works at the Corner Bistro. Small world. Funny thing, days later, I recalled having met his brother. My last meal in New York was a big greasy burger at the CB and the subject of my impending trip came up. The bartended mentioned that he had a brother in Thailand that ran a dive shop. I only wished I'd remembered his name.
Later in the day after some sleep, I just walked around and thought about how great it would be to have everyone here on Ko Chang in a year from now for New Years. The night was great but the only thing it was missing were the usual suspects from my New Years celebrations.
Dinner that night was great again - 2 rounds of banana shakes all around and tomorrow Dave would be leaving and I'd be off to Cambodia.

12/28/01 - New Years Approaches

We spend the next two nights on Samet after making some frantic harried reservations from Pattaya all confirmed on two little slips of paper I had. Samet is my first Thai island and was a bit of a disappointment - probably because of my high expactations, and this, being closest to Bangkok, was the least nice of all the islands to visit this time of year. The island was packed with resorts and bungalows and ours was okay, but not great, especially since it lacked window screens. I finally got to use my mosquito net that I've been lugging with me for weeks at the bottom of my pack and it worked pretty well.
One of the days on Ko Samet, we rented some motor bikes and zipped around the island. The riding was intense, as significant parts of the island lack paved roads. There was a little resevoir we raced around, and parts of the trails I had to push my bike up or through because I couldn't get enough traction on the slipping pebbles. We reached the bottom of the T-shaped island at sunset where both coasts convereged and it was realyl magnificent. Unfortunately, I left my camera back in the room.