Back to the Beach, Part IV
For the last 3 days and nights, we’ve been in Mui Ne, a sleepy beach town about a third of the way up the Vietnamese coast. We’re staying in a full-blown resort for $22 per night, breakfast included. Why rough it when living the good life is so damn cheap? The weather’s perfect, the sand’s white, the water’s cool, the beer’s cold, the wife’s happy . . . life is good. We’re sharing the beach, which is 7 miles long, with a handful of people.
See you Saigon
We said goodbye to Saigon last Tuesday. Most people aren’t a big fan of the city. Megan and I love it. We’ll miss the 14 million scooters racing through the crowded streets, the history, the hipsters in the cafes (closest thing you’ll find to a bar), and the exercisers in the park. The exercisers will especially be missed . . . . most quite old, shaking, swinging, flapping, stretching their numerous limbs while walking laps around the park. It appeared that most were trying to take flight. None succeeded.
We started our last night at a Bia Hue (Beer House), half a block from our hotel. The beer houses are nothing more than cheap plastic tables and chairs situated along the sidewalk outside modest kitchens, which serve up pretty gruesome-looking chow, and of course, beer. I wanted to try the “rat beer”, which our Mekong guide told us about (no rats involved, just a name). I ordered one up . . . 1 liter of keg beer served in an old, plastic jug landed on the table for 4,000 dong ($0.25). Pretty good stuff actually. After rat beer #1, Megan headed back to the hotel room for a shower while I enjoyed rat beer #2. The other patrons, old dudes sipping Heineken, seemed to get a kick out of me.
After we both got cleaned up, we found a little bistro for dinner. I tried something new . . . . froglegs. Froglegs and vegetables sautéed in a dark curry sauce to be exact. The legs were really good, tasted like chicken as I’d heard. Megan passed.
After dinner, we headed to the Prudential, the tallest building in the city, for a nightcap. As expected, the view from the rooftop bar was quite impressive. Lights, lights, and more lights. The next morning, we boarded a bus for Dalat.
Rocky Mountain High
Well, they may not have been the Rockies and it wasn’t Colorado, but the elevation, the hills, and the friendly town of Dalat made for a breath of very fresh air. The town is actually situated about a mile high (elevation 5,200), which meant it was pleasantly, no heavenly, cool. Our first day, we went for a morning jog around the lake in town, then got completely lost trying to find our way back to the guesthouse. We played the same game I played on my bicycle trip outside Phnom Penh. About 6 participants and 60 minutes later, we landed home. That afternoon, we rented a scooter and toured the surrounding countryside . . . terraced farm fields modest villages carved into the surrounding hillsides.
The next day, we set our sights on the tallest peak in the south of the country, Langbian. A 4 mile hike was all that stood between us and the 7,400 foot peak. About halfway up, we caught a group of 4 Vietnamese twenty-somethings. One of the two guys in the group, Tun, spoke fluent English. The rest smiled and laughed a lot. We continued up the path with them, enjoying their company. Unfortunately, we lost the trail about 300 feet of elevation from the peak. What do you do when you lose the trail? You backtrack until you arrive back at the trail. What did we do when we lost the trail? We fell right in line with Tun and his buddies as they bushwhacked through the jungle, up the side of the mountain. This was not our best decision. About halfway into our hour long bushwhacking episode, my wife is a leach. No, wait. What I meant to say is, “A leach is on my wife.” That’s right. Megan’s first sight of a leach was of one located just above her ankle on the front of her left leg. I’m thinking, uh oh, there goes my husband of the year award. Or worse yet, she just might kill me here, right on the spot, after the leach is removed. I was sure to see the first of the four allotted crying sessions. However, Megan shook it off, tears free, and kept heading up. I think the old 800 meter runner in her came back out . . . nothing was going to keep her from the top of that mountain. My wife is tough, tougher than a Denny's t-bone. About half an hour later, we stumbled back upon the trail. Within 10 minutes, we were celebrating on top. After an hour of rest, taking in the views, and snapping a few victory shots, we headed back down. Down the trail, the whole way . . . never figured out where we lost the trail.
That evening, we all enjoyed a dinner at a restaurant in town and Tun invited us on a trip to Pongour Waterfall and his parent’s home for lunch the following day.
The next morning, we boarded our trusty Yamaha scooter and followed Tun out of town. About an hour later, we arrived at the waterfall. Tallest building, tallest peak, and now, we’ve seen the largest waterfall. What next? Anyway, the falls were pretty impressive, stretching over 200 yards wide, cascading down 7 tiers . . . hard to imagine what it will be like in a few months during the rainy season. After our visit to the falls, we cruised to Tun’s parent’s home in the nearby village. His parents had a 10,000 square meter coffee plantation. Vietnam is the number two coffee producer in the world . . . didn’t know that. Tun toured us around the property, which was beautiful. Afterwards, we sat down to a large spread of Vietnamese dishes (stir-frys, curries, noodles, assorted meats) prepared by Tun’s mother and father. We all enjoyed the delicious dishes together. After a few pictures and many thanks, we boarded our scooter with full bellies and headed to a nearby pagoda. We ran into one of the monks who toured us through the grounds, with Tun acting as interpreter. Eventually, we said our final farewell and thanks to Tun and set off on the hour ride back to town. It was a very special day made possible by their generous offer.
The next morning, we jumped on a bus for Mui Ne, our current location. We plopped down in the back row and the first thing that crossed my mind was, “Where did all these white people come from?” I realized that we had seen almost no other tourists during our several days in Dalat and surrounding country. Off we went . . . our bus shook and lurched as it descended the curvy mountain roads for the coast.
Awards Time
Finest Dining – No doubt about it. Thai food is the best, hands down. Although quite adequate, no Cambodian amok or Vietnamese noodle soup compares with even the most modest of Thai curries. We’re looking forward to landing back in Thailand in a month or so . . . initially for the islands, as much now for the food.
Kickback King – You’ve got to tip your cap to Cambodia. For when it comes to kickbacks, they are second to none. I joke that the lady who runs the toilets in the bus station, who charges you $0.15 a visit, takes a nickel of that and gives it to the guy who sold you the water, which made you have to pee in the first place. It’s not that far off.
Top DJ – Congratulations Vietnam. You spin the best tunes. Your eclectic blend of music can’t be beat. You’re likely to hear classic country western on the buses in Saigon . . . Save the Last Dance for Me by Patsy Cline comes to mind. In the cafes and restaurants, the music is top notch. Last night our the playlist (which happened to be on repeat) went something like I'm All Outta Love by Air Supply, Say You, Say Me by Lionel Richie, Smoke Gets in your Eyes, I’ll be Loving You Forever by New Kids, I Did It My Way, It’s No Sacrifice by Elton John. It’s like being back in your parent’s station wagon as a kid, flipping through the radio stations as you cruised down the highway at 55 mph. I believe that all music from the mid-90’s and on has been banned here.
What’s next?
Tomorrow, we’re headed to Nha Trang. The beach is beautiful and the jumping nightlife will be a nice change after the super laid back setting of Mui Ne. We’re going to reunite with our buddy Tom as well, which means I might have a couple of headaches in the future. A little bit of underwater exploration is also on the agenda.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Monday, April 16, 2007
Good morning Vietnam.
Happy Easter
On Easter Sunday, we took a tuktuk to St. Josephs in the north end of Phnom Penh. We understood three words from the service, “Hello to visitors.” The mass took place in a large hall with a simple altar and cross. The congregation remained seated on mats throughout the mass . . . . no sit, stand, kneel, sit, etc. Afterwards, we treated ourselves to a nice breakfast. That afternoon, we ponied up $7 each to rub shoulders with the five star travelers by the pool at Hotel Cambodiana, nothing like a cool dip when it’s 104 degrees out.
Mekong Express
Our Vietnam visas were processed Monday after Easter. On Tuesday, we set out from Phnom Penh on a 3 day/2 night tour ending in Saigon, Vietnam. The tour went something like this:
PHNOM PENH - small bus – big bus – boat – border crossing – boat – scooter – sleep – scooter – boat – big bus – tuktuk – boat – sleep – scooter – small bus – boat – big bus – ferry – big bus – SAIGON
I’m sure I forgot a couple modes of transportation. Anyway, the tour was 2 parts fun, 1 part frustrating. To describe it as “organized chaos” would be generous. To focus on the fun . . . It was very interesting cruising down the Mekong and several of its infinite number of tributaries . . . misty jungles, water buffalos, small villages, just like you’d imagine. The highlight of our trip was the homestay we did our second night in the outskirts of Can Tho. We took a boat from the town out to the country where we met up with Fon and his family. Their home was surrounded by rice paddies and mango and banana plantations. During the afternoon, Fon and I caught small perch-looking fish from a pond on their property . . . worms and cane poles, Huck Finn style. Megan relaxed in a hammock with a good book. That afternoon, Khan (Fon’s cousin) took us for a tour through the surrounding fields and village. Khan was a super guy . . . he hoped to become engaged next month to his sweetheart of 13 years, who he’s continued a long-distance relationship with since meeting at a summer camp in high school. They meet once a year on average. That’s patience. The other thing we found very interesting about Khan was his overwhelming support of Jon McCain (he carries a picture of him around). He was very hopeful that McCain’s experience in Vietnam may translate to the continued growth of US-Vietnam relations. For dinner, Fon’s mother laid out quite the spread . . . soups, stir fries, my fish, green beans, rice, rice crackers. We ate and ate and ate while enjoying the bottle of wine we picked at Cambodia’s only winery. The other highlight of the trip was meeting Aaron and Sally, our new friends from Australia. It was fun having another couple to laugh with at both the good and bad of the tour. We spent several enjoyable evenings with the friendly couple after arriving in Saigon.
Pass on Twister Spacebowl
Alright, we made it to Saigon. What should we do . . . Markets? Museums? Palaces? Who needs culture when you’ve got a waterpark? That’s right. We hit the Dam Sen Waterpark. It was awesome. I haven’t been to a waterpark since Wild River Country in Little Rock when I was in junior high. So Friday at the waterpark . . . It was Megan, me, and a thousand bonkers kids on school field trips. We rode the slides all day. Our favorite was “Black Thunder”, a tunnel slide which launched the two of us screaming through the dark on a figure eight inner tube before flying into a pool. Our nemesis was “Twister Spacebowl”, which hurled us down a long straight-shot into a gigantic enclosed cone where we spun and tumbled around until gravity eventually won, dumping us into another pool. This ride was responsible for a majority of the aches and pains that we’re still feeling 4 days later. The day was a blast.
Jesus meets Vegas
This last Sunday, we headed down to Notre Dame Cathedral in the heart of Saigon’s historic district for the 9:30 mass. The church was built in 18something-or-other. It’s big and beautiful, a classic cathedral. However, once inside, you quickly notice a little twist . . . . neon lights adorn just about every religious monument and statue. Behind the altar, a life-sized statue of Mary is lined with light blue neon. Underneath, a half moon and star in white neon frames the words “Ave Maria”, also in neon. Above Mary, you’ll find the crucifix, tastefully lined with neon. This is not uncommon. In fact, Notre Dame is quite subtle compared to other churches in the city, which cannot be differentiated from the city’s many Karaoke bars at a distance. Hundreds of meters of neon line the outside of some churches.
Cu Chi Tunnels
Yesterday, we jumped on a bus for the Cao Dai Temple and Cu Chi Tunnels. At 12:00, we witnessed a Cao Dai mass, whose unique religion is a blend of Jesus, Vishnu, and Victor Hugo worship. It was weird, really weird . . . to us. Afterwards, we went to Cu Chi Tunnels, located about 60 kilometers from the heart of Saigon. The Viet Cong controlled tunnels served as protection and ambush grounds for the US and South Vietnamese forces during the “American War”. It was an enlightening experience . . . pretty unthinkable that our troops went crawling through these incredibly cramped, dark, hot, stuffy tunnels in search of whatever was hiding in the darkness. Our guide was an older gentleman who served in the South Vietnamese army as an interpreter for the US Army. After the war, he was put through two and a half years of “reeducation” by the new Communist government. The time we’ve spent in Saigon, which has included visits to the tunnels, “Reunification” Palace, and War Remnants Museum, has been extremely educational as our knowledge of the Vietnam War was minimal. Their take on the American involvement/motives is interesting.
I did take the opportunity to shoot an AK-47 at the shooting range in the tunnel complex . . . no ducks involved. 5 rounds for $7. It was cool.
Communism meets capitalism . . .
Vietnam is quite a blend of two worlds, communism and capitalism. The communist government is most evident through its control of the media. Antennas shoot up everywhere to pick up the government run public television. If you’re wealthy, you can pay $4/month for cable TV, which buys you some outside channels like BBC and CNN. However, the government is free to censor it as well. While at our homestay, we awoke at 4:30 am to public announcements over loudspeakers sprinkled throughout the countryside. Over breakfast, Fon told us it was the standard government news and propaganda. In other ways, things seem extremely modern and capitalist. Privately owned businesses compete fiercely. Life in the city appears no different than life in most other major Western cities.
So far, we are very impressed with Vietnam. The countryside is beautiful. Saigon is very modern, clean, well landscaped, efficient, and fun. The French influence is evident in the tree-lined streets and tasty baguettes. We’re looking forward to what lies to the north. From here, we’re heading to Dalat in the mountains, then onto Mui Ne by the sea.
Things are great.
One note on pictures: I cannot seem to get pictures uploaded onto the blog, not sure why, just doesn’t seem to happen. We’re going to throw everything in an on-line album on one of the photo webpages today. We’ll attach the link to the blog afterwards.
On Easter Sunday, we took a tuktuk to St. Josephs in the north end of Phnom Penh. We understood three words from the service, “Hello to visitors.” The mass took place in a large hall with a simple altar and cross. The congregation remained seated on mats throughout the mass . . . . no sit, stand, kneel, sit, etc. Afterwards, we treated ourselves to a nice breakfast. That afternoon, we ponied up $7 each to rub shoulders with the five star travelers by the pool at Hotel Cambodiana, nothing like a cool dip when it’s 104 degrees out.
Mekong Express
Our Vietnam visas were processed Monday after Easter. On Tuesday, we set out from Phnom Penh on a 3 day/2 night tour ending in Saigon, Vietnam. The tour went something like this:
PHNOM PENH - small bus – big bus – boat – border crossing – boat – scooter – sleep – scooter – boat – big bus – tuktuk – boat – sleep – scooter – small bus – boat – big bus – ferry – big bus – SAIGON
I’m sure I forgot a couple modes of transportation. Anyway, the tour was 2 parts fun, 1 part frustrating. To describe it as “organized chaos” would be generous. To focus on the fun . . . It was very interesting cruising down the Mekong and several of its infinite number of tributaries . . . misty jungles, water buffalos, small villages, just like you’d imagine. The highlight of our trip was the homestay we did our second night in the outskirts of Can Tho. We took a boat from the town out to the country where we met up with Fon and his family. Their home was surrounded by rice paddies and mango and banana plantations. During the afternoon, Fon and I caught small perch-looking fish from a pond on their property . . . worms and cane poles, Huck Finn style. Megan relaxed in a hammock with a good book. That afternoon, Khan (Fon’s cousin) took us for a tour through the surrounding fields and village. Khan was a super guy . . . he hoped to become engaged next month to his sweetheart of 13 years, who he’s continued a long-distance relationship with since meeting at a summer camp in high school. They meet once a year on average. That’s patience. The other thing we found very interesting about Khan was his overwhelming support of Jon McCain (he carries a picture of him around). He was very hopeful that McCain’s experience in Vietnam may translate to the continued growth of US-Vietnam relations. For dinner, Fon’s mother laid out quite the spread . . . soups, stir fries, my fish, green beans, rice, rice crackers. We ate and ate and ate while enjoying the bottle of wine we picked at Cambodia’s only winery. The other highlight of the trip was meeting Aaron and Sally, our new friends from Australia. It was fun having another couple to laugh with at both the good and bad of the tour. We spent several enjoyable evenings with the friendly couple after arriving in Saigon.
Pass on Twister Spacebowl
Alright, we made it to Saigon. What should we do . . . Markets? Museums? Palaces? Who needs culture when you’ve got a waterpark? That’s right. We hit the Dam Sen Waterpark. It was awesome. I haven’t been to a waterpark since Wild River Country in Little Rock when I was in junior high. So Friday at the waterpark . . . It was Megan, me, and a thousand bonkers kids on school field trips. We rode the slides all day. Our favorite was “Black Thunder”, a tunnel slide which launched the two of us screaming through the dark on a figure eight inner tube before flying into a pool. Our nemesis was “Twister Spacebowl”, which hurled us down a long straight-shot into a gigantic enclosed cone where we spun and tumbled around until gravity eventually won, dumping us into another pool. This ride was responsible for a majority of the aches and pains that we’re still feeling 4 days later. The day was a blast.
Jesus meets Vegas
This last Sunday, we headed down to Notre Dame Cathedral in the heart of Saigon’s historic district for the 9:30 mass. The church was built in 18something-or-other. It’s big and beautiful, a classic cathedral. However, once inside, you quickly notice a little twist . . . . neon lights adorn just about every religious monument and statue. Behind the altar, a life-sized statue of Mary is lined with light blue neon. Underneath, a half moon and star in white neon frames the words “Ave Maria”, also in neon. Above Mary, you’ll find the crucifix, tastefully lined with neon. This is not uncommon. In fact, Notre Dame is quite subtle compared to other churches in the city, which cannot be differentiated from the city’s many Karaoke bars at a distance. Hundreds of meters of neon line the outside of some churches.
Cu Chi Tunnels
Yesterday, we jumped on a bus for the Cao Dai Temple and Cu Chi Tunnels. At 12:00, we witnessed a Cao Dai mass, whose unique religion is a blend of Jesus, Vishnu, and Victor Hugo worship. It was weird, really weird . . . to us. Afterwards, we went to Cu Chi Tunnels, located about 60 kilometers from the heart of Saigon. The Viet Cong controlled tunnels served as protection and ambush grounds for the US and South Vietnamese forces during the “American War”. It was an enlightening experience . . . pretty unthinkable that our troops went crawling through these incredibly cramped, dark, hot, stuffy tunnels in search of whatever was hiding in the darkness. Our guide was an older gentleman who served in the South Vietnamese army as an interpreter for the US Army. After the war, he was put through two and a half years of “reeducation” by the new Communist government. The time we’ve spent in Saigon, which has included visits to the tunnels, “Reunification” Palace, and War Remnants Museum, has been extremely educational as our knowledge of the Vietnam War was minimal. Their take on the American involvement/motives is interesting.
I did take the opportunity to shoot an AK-47 at the shooting range in the tunnel complex . . . no ducks involved. 5 rounds for $7. It was cool.
Communism meets capitalism . . .
Vietnam is quite a blend of two worlds, communism and capitalism. The communist government is most evident through its control of the media. Antennas shoot up everywhere to pick up the government run public television. If you’re wealthy, you can pay $4/month for cable TV, which buys you some outside channels like BBC and CNN. However, the government is free to censor it as well. While at our homestay, we awoke at 4:30 am to public announcements over loudspeakers sprinkled throughout the countryside. Over breakfast, Fon told us it was the standard government news and propaganda. In other ways, things seem extremely modern and capitalist. Privately owned businesses compete fiercely. Life in the city appears no different than life in most other major Western cities.
So far, we are very impressed with Vietnam. The countryside is beautiful. Saigon is very modern, clean, well landscaped, efficient, and fun. The French influence is evident in the tree-lined streets and tasty baguettes. We’re looking forward to what lies to the north. From here, we’re heading to Dalat in the mountains, then onto Mui Ne by the sea.
Things are great.
One note on pictures: I cannot seem to get pictures uploaded onto the blog, not sure why, just doesn’t seem to happen. We’re going to throw everything in an on-line album on one of the photo webpages today. We’ll attach the link to the blog afterwards.
Friday, April 6, 2007
Wanna buy a duck?
Day of a thousand hellos:
On our last day in Battambang, we hired a tuktuk driver for the afternoon. His name was Mr. Salone and he rocked. He took us to several of the highlighted sights in the area: boat mountain, some temple (forget the name), the only winery in the country, the fruit bat forest, and last but not least, the bamboo train. It was a great day, best so far. The sights were mediocre at best and it was impressively hot, but Mr. Salone and the kids along the way more than made up for it. As we cruised from stop to stop, we were greeted at every step of the way by smiling, waving children who simply wanted to say hello. Some yelled it at the top of their lungs as we passed by, while others spoke it at barely a whisper, hardly audible from the tuktuk. We shouted back . . . "Hello!" or "Suas-Dei!" (Cambodian hello) and the kids went ballistic, laughing, jumping, smiling. It was awesome. We say hello to everybody now.
At the end of the day, we cruised to an informal stop on the railway heading out of Battambang towards Phnom Penh for a ride on the "bamboo train". We read about it in the book . . . sounded super touristy, super cheesy, but what the hell. When we got there, an older gentleman and his 7 children greeted us. After settling on the price and distance for the ride, the kids went to work cobbling together the "bamboo train", which consisted of a front and rear axle, a 7' x 10' bamboo platform (same kind they use to thrash rice during harvest), a small gas motor, and a couple of belts and pulleys. After assembly, the father put his whole family up on the platform and invited Megan and I to sit up front . . . best seat in the house. The two oldest sons began to push the back of the platform, much like you start a bobsled, while a younger son got the motor running. 30 seconds later, we were flying down the railroad on this magic carpet, much faster than Megan or I anticipated. It was one of those occasions which husbands, boyfriends, big brothers, etc. have all been in . . . . you are so scared you're concerned for the integrity of your boxer shorts, yet you try to portray this calm, collected air. "We're fine . . . they've done it a million times." We bounced along the tracks at around 30 mph. I looked back and saw that Mr. Salone was still wearing his moto helmet, this was not reassuring. He claimed it was to keep the noise down. I am confident that this was the only lie he told us. Later, we found out that the passenger train that runs this stretch of track does not exceed 15 mph due to certain derailment at 20+ mph. It was an exciting ending to the perfect day.
Palm Sunday:
On Palm Sunday, I got up early and headed down to a bike rental shop near the bus station in Phnom Penh. I picked out a winner and set off for a couple of Cambodia's depressing historical sights . . . the Killing Fields of Chuong Ek and the Tuol Sleng Prison. Alone, I found myself saying the Lord's Prayer at around 8:00 as I strolled between the mass graves of the killing fields. I was looking for company, but nobody was there . . . I turned to God, the first of many times that day. Megan passed on the adventure, opting for a day at the market and swimming pool.
On whole, we really liked Phnom Penh . . . clean, charming, great guesthouses suspended over Green Lake (yes, they call it Green Lake) at the north end of the city.
Wanna buy a duck?:
There's a shooting range about 20 kilometers out of Phnom Penh. I stumbled onto it on my way to the killing fields. I was relying on my perfect sense of direction (no map) when I decided to play the game "go down whatever road the nearest local points to at an unknown intersection" . . . great game. As I pedaled down a dirt road to only God knew where, I was stopped by a friendly gentleman who informed me that I had in fact found my way to the shooting range, which is what the participants in my game must have assumed was my intended destination. You can shoot just about anything there . . . AK-47's, RPG's, tank shells, no joke. I passed on his friendly offer and thanked him for getting me pointed in the right direction. Later, a moto driver at our guesthouse gave us some more detail about the shooting range. Apparently, for $600 US, you can purchase a full grown cow and blow it up with shells from a tank . . . makes perfect sense. Children starving in the street? Spend one and half times the average annual income to blow up a cow. I explained that I was a hunter back in the states and told the guy that I shoot (try to shoot) wild ducks with a shotgun. He immediately countered with "Wanna buy a duck? No problem." No BS . . . ducks were on the menu. They don't fly, but be assured that they are fast and quite difficult to pick off with an AK-47 . . . so we're told.
Back to the beach:
After a couple great days in Battambang and sobering days in Phnom Penh, we headed to Sihanoukville . . . the Cambodian Riviera. Expectations were low as the world's most negative Danish lady filled us in on how awful the beach was . . . loads of terrible people trying to sell you stuff, unbearable. We were pleasantly surprised by what turned out to be a charming little beach town, miles of white sand, and absurdly cheap, disgustingly beautiful candle lit dinners steps away from the Gulf of Thailand (sometimes in the Gulf if a big wave came in). It's been a relaxing few days.
Warbenji:
Our first night in Sihanoukville, Megan and I found a nice little beach front restaurant to enjoy late dinner . . . . As our meals landed on the table, we were pleasantly surprised to see Dutch couple #2 (Cindy and Vouter who we met in Battambang) strolling down the beach in our direction. We spent a majority of our days and nights with them here . . . lots of fun. We chartered a local fishing boat for a day of island hopping, snorkelling, and traditional Cambodian fishing (string tied around a water bottle). I was helpless without my closet full of Shimano and Orvis gear. Cindy and Vouter, who had caught a single fish between the two of them prior to our excursion, put the boots to me, catching about 10 fish to my 2. We really did enjoy their company (lots of cardgames, ruthless teasing of Vouter's Top Gun enjoyment, and intense debate over who has the freshest fruits, veggies, and cheeses back home). Our final night concluded with a friendly challenge . . . a Warbenji ( my version of a Dutch phrase, inside joke) Moustache Growing Contest. Vouter and I are going stache to stache (in a non-gay manner, not that there's anything wrong with it) to see who can cultivate the finest above lip facial hair over the next 3 weeks. I can't remember where this idea came from . . . somewhere between a mojito and a couple of BeerLaos. Anyway, our national pride is on the line, and I intend on winning.
Priceless Art:
Megan and I have procured 14 paintings from the local children, ages 5 to 15, of Sihanoukville. A really creative person started the project in 2005 . . . . $4 per oil on wood painting ($2 to buy supplies, maintain the studio, and feed/provide health care for the kids and $2 straight to the artist). We can't wait to hang our sunsets, geckos, fire twirlers, temples, fish, islands, and mouse on the walls of what we eventually call home in the future. True masterpieces.
From here:
Tomorrow, we head back to Phnom Penh, en route to Kratie up the mighty Mekong River. Our soul purpose in life will be to find a cozy guesthouse with killer air conditioning for tomorrow afternoon/evening. We're hot.
We are loving Cambodia . . . terrific experience.
On our last day in Battambang, we hired a tuktuk driver for the afternoon. His name was Mr. Salone and he rocked. He took us to several of the highlighted sights in the area: boat mountain, some temple (forget the name), the only winery in the country, the fruit bat forest, and last but not least, the bamboo train. It was a great day, best so far. The sights were mediocre at best and it was impressively hot, but Mr. Salone and the kids along the way more than made up for it. As we cruised from stop to stop, we were greeted at every step of the way by smiling, waving children who simply wanted to say hello. Some yelled it at the top of their lungs as we passed by, while others spoke it at barely a whisper, hardly audible from the tuktuk. We shouted back . . . "Hello!" or "Suas-Dei!" (Cambodian hello) and the kids went ballistic, laughing, jumping, smiling. It was awesome. We say hello to everybody now.
At the end of the day, we cruised to an informal stop on the railway heading out of Battambang towards Phnom Penh for a ride on the "bamboo train". We read about it in the book . . . sounded super touristy, super cheesy, but what the hell. When we got there, an older gentleman and his 7 children greeted us. After settling on the price and distance for the ride, the kids went to work cobbling together the "bamboo train", which consisted of a front and rear axle, a 7' x 10' bamboo platform (same kind they use to thrash rice during harvest), a small gas motor, and a couple of belts and pulleys. After assembly, the father put his whole family up on the platform and invited Megan and I to sit up front . . . best seat in the house. The two oldest sons began to push the back of the platform, much like you start a bobsled, while a younger son got the motor running. 30 seconds later, we were flying down the railroad on this magic carpet, much faster than Megan or I anticipated. It was one of those occasions which husbands, boyfriends, big brothers, etc. have all been in . . . . you are so scared you're concerned for the integrity of your boxer shorts, yet you try to portray this calm, collected air. "We're fine . . . they've done it a million times." We bounced along the tracks at around 30 mph. I looked back and saw that Mr. Salone was still wearing his moto helmet, this was not reassuring. He claimed it was to keep the noise down. I am confident that this was the only lie he told us. Later, we found out that the passenger train that runs this stretch of track does not exceed 15 mph due to certain derailment at 20+ mph. It was an exciting ending to the perfect day.
Palm Sunday:
On Palm Sunday, I got up early and headed down to a bike rental shop near the bus station in Phnom Penh. I picked out a winner and set off for a couple of Cambodia's depressing historical sights . . . the Killing Fields of Chuong Ek and the Tuol Sleng Prison. Alone, I found myself saying the Lord's Prayer at around 8:00 as I strolled between the mass graves of the killing fields. I was looking for company, but nobody was there . . . I turned to God, the first of many times that day. Megan passed on the adventure, opting for a day at the market and swimming pool.
On whole, we really liked Phnom Penh . . . clean, charming, great guesthouses suspended over Green Lake (yes, they call it Green Lake) at the north end of the city.
Wanna buy a duck?:
There's a shooting range about 20 kilometers out of Phnom Penh. I stumbled onto it on my way to the killing fields. I was relying on my perfect sense of direction (no map) when I decided to play the game "go down whatever road the nearest local points to at an unknown intersection" . . . great game. As I pedaled down a dirt road to only God knew where, I was stopped by a friendly gentleman who informed me that I had in fact found my way to the shooting range, which is what the participants in my game must have assumed was my intended destination. You can shoot just about anything there . . . AK-47's, RPG's, tank shells, no joke. I passed on his friendly offer and thanked him for getting me pointed in the right direction. Later, a moto driver at our guesthouse gave us some more detail about the shooting range. Apparently, for $600 US, you can purchase a full grown cow and blow it up with shells from a tank . . . makes perfect sense. Children starving in the street? Spend one and half times the average annual income to blow up a cow. I explained that I was a hunter back in the states and told the guy that I shoot (try to shoot) wild ducks with a shotgun. He immediately countered with "Wanna buy a duck? No problem." No BS . . . ducks were on the menu. They don't fly, but be assured that they are fast and quite difficult to pick off with an AK-47 . . . so we're told.
Back to the beach:
After a couple great days in Battambang and sobering days in Phnom Penh, we headed to Sihanoukville . . . the Cambodian Riviera. Expectations were low as the world's most negative Danish lady filled us in on how awful the beach was . . . loads of terrible people trying to sell you stuff, unbearable. We were pleasantly surprised by what turned out to be a charming little beach town, miles of white sand, and absurdly cheap, disgustingly beautiful candle lit dinners steps away from the Gulf of Thailand (sometimes in the Gulf if a big wave came in). It's been a relaxing few days.
Warbenji:
Our first night in Sihanoukville, Megan and I found a nice little beach front restaurant to enjoy late dinner . . . . As our meals landed on the table, we were pleasantly surprised to see Dutch couple #2 (Cindy and Vouter who we met in Battambang) strolling down the beach in our direction. We spent a majority of our days and nights with them here . . . lots of fun. We chartered a local fishing boat for a day of island hopping, snorkelling, and traditional Cambodian fishing (string tied around a water bottle). I was helpless without my closet full of Shimano and Orvis gear. Cindy and Vouter, who had caught a single fish between the two of them prior to our excursion, put the boots to me, catching about 10 fish to my 2. We really did enjoy their company (lots of cardgames, ruthless teasing of Vouter's Top Gun enjoyment, and intense debate over who has the freshest fruits, veggies, and cheeses back home). Our final night concluded with a friendly challenge . . . a Warbenji ( my version of a Dutch phrase, inside joke) Moustache Growing Contest. Vouter and I are going stache to stache (in a non-gay manner, not that there's anything wrong with it) to see who can cultivate the finest above lip facial hair over the next 3 weeks. I can't remember where this idea came from . . . somewhere between a mojito and a couple of BeerLaos. Anyway, our national pride is on the line, and I intend on winning.
Priceless Art:
Megan and I have procured 14 paintings from the local children, ages 5 to 15, of Sihanoukville. A really creative person started the project in 2005 . . . . $4 per oil on wood painting ($2 to buy supplies, maintain the studio, and feed/provide health care for the kids and $2 straight to the artist). We can't wait to hang our sunsets, geckos, fire twirlers, temples, fish, islands, and mouse on the walls of what we eventually call home in the future. True masterpieces.
From here:
Tomorrow, we head back to Phnom Penh, en route to Kratie up the mighty Mekong River. Our soul purpose in life will be to find a cozy guesthouse with killer air conditioning for tomorrow afternoon/evening. We're hot.
We are loving Cambodia . . . terrific experience.
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