Khmer Pajama Party


And we arrive in the final country of our trip. The final border crossing and it’s rather wild west style. Hello Cambodia, hello corruption. The immigration official claims he cannot issue my business visa…I stand, I wait, I grit my teeth, I insist… until his:
"I help you, you help me” and then an extra $20 (in addition to the bribes to leave Lao and the $1 for my temperature to be checked) and I’m in…just in time for the pajama party.



The trendy (and practical) fashion outfit for Khmer (main Cambodian people) ladies is a garishly patterned full pajama set, worn complete with white socks, high heels, safari style hats cum face masks and a handbag.   The word pajamas was incorporated into the English language from Persian, and the clothes adopted by the British when they came to South Asia as night attire. So, it's actually not so strange wearing pajamas as day wear.



We phlitter straight across Cambodia to Siem Reap to visit Angkor Wat, the ancient temple complex and ruined city built in the 12th Century.  There are millions of tourists, lots of Koreans and Japanese. Also lots of Khmer brides who have come for a photo shoot. 

We take a tuk tuk temple tour in the sweltering heat around the massive site of this ancient civilization comparable in its advancement with those of the Incas and the Romans.  The main temple fails to impress our high levels of temple expectation after 6 months visiting them. Then we discover the marvellous "Tomb Raider" temple (filmed there), the temple has been has encroached upon  by the surrounding jungle, the trees and animals reclaiming their land. Then to a mystical temple with Buddha faces peering out of the crumbling buildings.



Suffering from the heat we leave Siem Reap and are bundled into a van heading to the coast.  We squeeze in next to crates holding a few hundred eggs. It's not a regular bus, the enterprising administrator of this van, dressed in her pajamas, stops every few kilometres to pick up and drop off loads...eggs, watermelons, doors, babies, foreigners...always clutching a wad of bank notes...quite insightful.  By the time we reach the coast it's dark and the pajama lady doesn't know what to do with us so we are left by the roundabout in the quiet coastal town of Kep where we investigate by tuk tuk.


Kep is a lovely seaside town, quiet but kind of strange.  Built by the French then home to rich Khmers, the Khmer Rouge destroyed the town and murdered its inhabitants, it remained deserted for many years. There are still many burnt out shells of villas, a grim reminder of the recent horrific history of this country. 
The sadness of the history is that the corruption, poverty and lack of rights continues...but more of this to come with future blogs...




And a welcome to the crazy Cambodian money system. I've visited a few countries with bizarre systems now, notably Cuba and Myanmar. But this is a first where the ATMs give out American dollars and when you pay with dollars you get small change in Riel, the "official" currency.


Kep is famous for its wonderful crab market and we spend  our last few days of travel before starting work eating crab on Rabbit Island and reflecting on our wonderful trip.




 

Chillaotian Along the Mekong


Hello Lao!
Having clambered all the way up to Thailand’s North Eastern corner, into the fabled Golden Triangle, (the wedge of land between Lao, Thailand and Myanmar, famous for opium production) we enjoy a pleasant border crossing by long tail boat over the Mekong River.  This, our first encounter, with the important waterway is a little disappointing (as with the Irrawaddy in Myanmar), despite having already flowed through China all the way from the Tibetan Plateau, her watery resources are depleted to a few feet of drizzle by the onset of the hot, dry season.  A thick grey mist hangs in the air.  These dreary clouds of smoke have followed us across Northern Thailand and the haze will continue to choke our views of the most dramatic scenery of Lao, the by product of the annual slash and burn farming methods.  At night streaks of fire and burning embers drip across the hills, like volcanoes with dangerous orange rivers of lava.  


Hello Laotian Monks!
The Touring Circus of Backpackers from Thailand follows a defined route down the Mekong.  We escape the enforced tour group stickering and phlitter further North, shadowing the Lao China border to the village of Muang Sing. 10 km away China’s presence looms, a long shadow which can be felt the whole spindly length of Lao and into the Mekong Delta.



Spirit Gate
In this area of the Golden Triange, hill tribes drift between the four countries, people from the Hmong and Akha tribes, armed guerrillas also roam the hills, in the battle for controlling opium.  The tourist agency mafia have also migrated over the border from Thailand. We submit to a last guided  trip, a cycling tour, which promises to take in “ETHNIC” & “REMOTE” villages.  On arrival at these villages we are surrounded by women and children selling their wares, beautiful textiles, insisting we buy things so they can eat, we feel guilty, men squat and gaze at the falangs (foreigners), we gaze back. It’s like an uncomfortable visit to a zoo.  Visiting a village school to distribute some books and pens the experience is also uncomfortable.  Usually we give such supplies to the teacher but our guide explains that the teacher will probably then sell them to the children so suggests I give them direct to the kids which I don’t like to do as it encourages them to beg from tourists.  
I’ve entered the school and aroused attention so I do start to give the books to the kids but I’m two short which ends up with tears for those without, luckily we have some other treats (crayons) so everyone gets something, phew! 



We stop for a delicious feast of freshly harvested sugar cane and pass through spirit doors which bring us good luck from the spirits and protect the villages.  Animistic beliefs are common through the Mekong area and we have seen this already in Myanmar and Thailand, the beliefs spread from tribal groups from Tibet to 
Vietnam, often mixing with Buddhism.  Everything is controlled by    
spirits or demons; spirits inhabit rivers, forests, mountains, rocks – these objects are treated with great respect and we often see offerings given to the spirits. Village shamans are able to commune with spirits, they are called upon to heal people’s spirits and to chase away bad spirits.  

Caves where villagers lived
Bouncing over to the north easterly corner we spend a few days exploring the region close to Vietnam. We take a boat trip to the isolated village of Muang Ngoi, reachable only by boat up the Nam Ou River.  Here I really start to feel and live the Laotian peaceful vibe.  This peace was disturbed by blanket bombing during the horrific period of the Vietnamese War when the Americans bombed Lao every 9 minutes for 7 years between 1967 and 1974, chasing communists in their paranoid frenzy murdering thousands of civilians – Lao is the most bombed country in the world. In this period around 266 million cluster bombs were dropped, of which 80 million are still unexploded, continuing to claim many victims! We see some caves where locals lived for nine years and actually set up shops and banks. 












Turning South we endure another long bumpy bus journey down to the city of Luang Prabang where we rejoin the Mekong.  One of the main cities of this sparsely populated country, actually a tranquil village like town. There are many Chinese run industries evident around this area sucking Lao dry of its natural resources.  A new world imperialism is taking over Luang Prabang as the beautiful French colonial houses crumble.  The old colonialists leave in their wake baguettes and coffee shops which serve delicious Laotian coffee, an Oriental secret, black as the night, served balanced on a layer of thick sweet condensed milk.


The people are so relaxed in Lao that most shops and restaurants are unmanned and it takes perseverance to hunt out service. The people are gentle when it comes to negotiating. At the market a woman inflates the price of her oranges to a ridiculously high price which I don’t accept, she soon apologises and reduces the price by 80%.  Even when I visit the hospital to check an ear infection, the place is so sleepy that it takes a very long time to find the doctors then I need to wait for the doctor to return from having his tea at home.  The people are soft and friendly but shy.  A college student I meet on the bus invites me to meet his friends which is lovely but they are painfully shy. I have some nice moments with the people, it is difficult to interact much but they are keen to share a Beerlao or a glass of Lao Lao, local rice wine, and encourage me to play with the kids. I really notice that the Laotians, particularly the men, are great with the children (who are gorgeous). 


After a few more temples, monasteries and waterfalls, same, same, we cross the rugged mountains to Vang Vieng and rejoin the Circus for the tubing phenomenon.  I take out 1 million KIP (£80) from the bank and apprehensively partake in the activity I’ve heard tales of for the last few weeks.  From 11 am every day travellers flock to the riverside bars and drink “buckets”, $1 a pop, a third of a bottle of petroleum strength whisky, drink “happy” shakes, dance on podiums, swing off rickety rope swings into the shallow river and float on tubes until another barman fishes them in. Many kids stay for weeks and if they’re very lucky can get a job as a tout giving free shots and annoying people. 



In the town zombies stumble around, daubed in pink paint and graffiti black indelible felt tip marker pens…slurring….battered and bruised from inevitable accidents which occur with unmeasured quantities of alcohol, drugs, youth and water.  Some are dazed, some raucous, some bruised and others supported by crutches… People have been blinded by dodgy alcohol and every year people die here – including 2 Australian boys in January.  Along the shores there are plain clothes policemen in bushes with binoculars avidly spying for a falang smoking a joint so they can swoop in and supplement their income with a whopping $500 fine.

I join this bizarre sub-culture for a few hours and am left with mixed feelings.  I try one aerial run way slide and then feeling lucky to be alive tube the full 2 hours down the river through gorges of limestone escarpments, away from the blaring music and crowds who only make it a few metres. The tubing is fun and the scenery is stunning.  It obviously brings lots of visitors to the town but it is out of control and I feel slightly ashamed to join the sorry sight of the evening aftermath of tubers trudging through the town and can’t even bear to look at the locals.



A working elephant


After recovering from the tubing drama we take our “VIP Sleeper “ bus down South to spend a few days at Si Phan Don, the 4000 Islands on the Mekong, many islets appear in the dry season.  Now I can finally label the Mekong mighty as it opens up into a series of beautiful rivulets and waterfalls around the islands where we have some serious chillaotian time.