Cambodia The Resilient

Due to bus routes (and the lack thereof) we had to pass through Phnom Penh to get to Angkor Wat. That meant taking in the country's modern history before stepping back 1000 years to the time of the mighty Cambodian Empire.



As I learned, Cambodia was - at one time - the world's largest empire, controlling nearly all of Southeast Asia and even up into southern China. Of course, by 1975, the story was very different. A man by the name of Pol Pot came to power under the communist Khmer Rouge party and from 1975 to 1979, he systematically killed more than two million Cambodians during one of the World's largest genocides. His target? Anyone educated, anyone handicapped physically or mentally (what use were they?), and anyone who wore glasses (because if you wore glasses then you had them because you needed help reading. In a truly communist state, no one needed to read, so clearly you needed to die).



College-educated himself (in France nonetheless), in just under four years he somehow managed to completely destroy the entire nation of Cambodia. By the time he was removed from power, the two million he killed her complemented by the more than 500,000 who died of starvation because of poor harvests. As all evil dictators seem to enjoy, Pol Pot was given asylum in Thailand and lived out the rest of his days in house arrest, passing away in 1998 with absolutely no justice ever served to the Cambodian people. Needless to say, this is a nation where healing recent wounds is of the utmost importance. Part of that healing means never forgetting what happened.


Tuol Sleng Prison does just that. Once a high school, under Pol Pot it became a detention, torture and death center right in the heart of the capitol city. Schools were used because they were no longer needed - people didn't need to be educated in a truly communist utopia. Political dissidents, educated people and the handicapped were brought to Tuol Sleng in numbers large and small. They were then tortured beyond reason until they gave the "correct" answer at which point, they were killed using some horrifically gruesome method. Several detention cells are still open and additional exhibits about the events that transpired at the center - as well as photos of every victim killed at there, are on display.




The second site we visited was the Killing Fields of Choeung Ek. While those who had information were brought to Tuol Sleng, the ones who just needed to die came directly here. They were offloaded in the dozens and marched out to a fresh patch of open pasture. The victims were then given shovels and told to dig a large hole. The guards would then have the victims kneel by the hole and proceed to beat them over the head with the shovels that had just been used by the victims to dig their own graves. Tens of thousands of bodies have been recovered at Tuol Sleng. There was, as might be expected, a certain chill hanging over the entire area.


Since the fall of Pol Pot nearly 30 years ago Phnom Penh has slowly come back to life and is considered by many (especially those who live there) to be the next big thing in Asia. We did our best to shake off the tragedy and enjoy the warm spirit of the incredibly resilient people as well, which meant shopping the market and, along with Graham and our new BFF Stacey, taking in the booming nightlife at a floating restaurant and bar called Pontoon, crutches and all. Don' act like you'e not impressed.

"$1 For Special Fees. Same Same."

In our infinite wisdom and love for the uncertain, we decided to cross into Cambodia from Laos via the recently opened (and sometimes still closed) land border. That meant we would take a small boat from our island to the mainland followed by a minibus to the border, at which point we would walk the half mile from Cambodia to Laos and pick up another minibus that only runs as far as the first town. There, we would saddle up on a ?big bus? for the longest portion of the journey to Phnom Penh, where we would get a Tuk Tuk to Graham Gardner's house (brother to Andrew Gardner of AU infamy and son to Paul Gardner of First Republic Bank fame - no ATM fees anywhere on earth (thanks Paul!)).




Everything on the Laos side couldn?t have gone more smoothly. After donating an Imodium to a Slovenian woman who had never taken the travel wonder drug and asked us about 50 times "what it would do to her," we were on our way and right on time. Border control on both sides consisted of two tiki huts on stilts and two guards in full "government official" regalia. We already had our Visas per Lonely Planet's suggestion, only to discover that the fee at the border was $20 cheaper than we had paid! Of course, we were still subject to the $1 "admin fee," according to the border agents. This is, of course, not a real or official fee. I can't quite remember the official name, but words like extortion, bribery and scam come to mind. Fortunately, a large Polish man sporting a rather intimidating mullet was first in line and reamed the border folks for a solid five minutes about said fee, eventually getting all of us off the hook.


At the border we (a group of 25 or so) were invited to "eat something and take a rest" (a common Asian phrase) while waiting for our minibuses. Thirty minutes later they arrived. Forty rumbling, A/C-less minutes later we were at the first big town, which consisted of a government building, a EU Commission vehicle and a restaurant. "We will all eat something and take a rest here until the big bus comes," the driver told us. He then hopped out of the car and walked right into the kitchen, where he proceeded to cook our lunch. Apparently he was "Mr. Everything."


Some of the folks in our new-found group were itching to go and egging the rest of us on to hurry. Still, as much as we tried it just didn't seem to be an option - hurrying things along. Our new friend Stacey (wonder woman from London who has been traveling for 10 months and will be one of my first few friends when I arrive at school in September) attempted to pay, only to be told that she had to "wait five minutes." Either way, our bus still hadn't arrived. Tick Tock. Tick Tock.


Another unknown length of time passes and our tin can on wheels pulls up. Imagine the oldest city bus you have ever seen, add ten years, take out some seats, fade the paint, disconnect the A/C, throw in a few wooden shipping palettes and put a short Cambodian man in the diver's seat and you have the next 11 hours of our day. Now, we were told that this whole trip - which began at 8am - would finish in Phnom Penh at 9:30pm. That meant 13 and a half hours to cover 250 kilometers, which seemed ridiculous. Add in all the meals and "rest-taking," as well as a slower than molasses border crossing and this journey time begins to make a lot more sense.


And so it began - 11 hours on an un-air-conditioned bus with no windows traveling on the only road from Laos to capital of Cambodia that, due to a corrupt airline industry paying off government officials, was still nothing more than dirt and mud. Oh, and it was easily 100 degrees outside, 1000% humidity. Fortunately, Stacey and Kansas City (I missed his name) were all ears for a lengthy discussion on health care reform, education reform, the Democratic primary and how British English and American English is completely different. Throw in a few "bathroom stops" where we literally just pulled into the bushes and you?ve got our day.


Fortunately, there were a dozen Tuk Tuks where we got the bus, which meant our cruise to Graham's was quick and painless. Now we're living it up in totally luxury - our own room with A/C and a hot-water bathroom to boot!

Four Thousand Paradises

Our escape, as any escape should be, wasn’t exactly off the highway. Instead, it was a tuk-tuk, ferry, mini-bus, ferry, motorbike and walk away, which was fine considering what was at the end of the journey. Paradise. Absolute paradise. Four thousand islands has mega-tourist, medium tourist and no tourist options. We went for no tourist, which meant one guesthouse of bungalows on the river with hammocks, one restaurant and about 6 other foreigners.



We decided to take it completely easy for a few days so my foot could heal up for the massive amount of walking entailed with crossing into Cambodia via land then trekking around the massive Angkor Wat. That means there are very few stories from this stop. We spent two full days sitting, reading, listening to music, eating and, when the power comes on at 6pm for a few hours (that’s right, no power lines on the island. Generators give us light and battery charging for a few hours every night). Internet is available via satellite phone from 8pm to 9:30pm, which is the only period during the day when a signal is available from the actual satellite in space. How great is that? It was all divine, especially the sticky rice and iced coffee (I have a serious, serious problem).



The highlight (aside from doing nothing and our adopted dog “Skip,” pictured with me in the hammock) was the four-hour boat ride at sunset. There was no one else out on the water and we just zig-zagged between islands and along coasts of excited kids who were smiling and waving while running alongside our boat. This is the place to go if you truly want to fall off the map.




Cambodia, here we come…

--

Kyle Taylor

Off The Beaten (and Bridged) Path

Most everyone was going directly from Pakse to Four Thousand Islands, a collection of tiny paradises that scatter outward as the Mekong river widens down south, basically becoming a massive lake (the widest river on the planet). We didn’t want to take that route. Between the two was Wat Phu Champasak, the first Wat in Southeast Asia that even predates Angkor Wat in Cambodia (that’s a big deal). So big in fact, that it’s a protected UNESCO World Heritage Site. Needless to say, it had to be seen.



That meant hopping aboard a massive tractor truck carrying fruit, veggies, gas and yes, several cases of red bull (along with some local commuters). The price? $3, including the ferry trip across the river into town, where we joined a gas truck and two small tuk-tuks. Safety first! Champasak the town was one street of charming perfection and utter bliss. Just as we hopped off the truck it started pouring rain. That led us to dive into the first guesthouse we saw that just happened to have riverside bungalows with hot water and air conditioning. Does it get more perfect? I think Laotians are onto something with the whole “everything works out” business.


We waited out the massive storm with books, music and card games. As soon as it stopped we found the only tuk tuk driver in town and asked him to take us to the Wat before it “closed” (nothing actually closes on set hours here. If there are people, they are open). The Wat itself was breathtaking – two levels of partially restored ruins terraced into a massive mountain overlooking an equally beautiful valley of farms, lakes and the mighty Mekong. To put it simply, it was “otherworldy.”


On our way back we realized something rather important – we had no idea how to continue on to Four Thousand Islands. Thankfully, our “jack of all trades” driver did. “My friend books the bus for you. I pick you up, take you ferry, make sure you get on bus. No problem. Pick you up at 8. Around 8.” Could it be any easier? $8 later we were all booked through our final destination on the smallest, most remote inhabited island of the 4000.


We ate a kick-back dinner right on the river in a “restaurant” that ended up being the kitchen of a family’s home. The food (and the iced coffee) were divine. I’m actually attempting to limit myself to one (or two) a day. We’ll see how long that lasts!


Oh, last funny story. A friend had asked us to bring her a hammock, so we’ve been asking every person we meet if they sell them or if they know where we can buy one. This has led to some hilarious rounds of charades involving my usual mimicking, noises and sound effects. Said attempts had been only marginally successful thus far (we still didn’t have a hammock in our possession). The lady in Champasak, during the first round of charades, literally had no clue what I was trying to mimic and replied with a rather direct “can you just speak?” I did and she said “ewe!!!” I clapped and yelled out loud, “hurray, she has one!” To which she replied, “oh no, I don’t have one. In Laotian a hammock is called an “ewe.” Ohh!!!!
--
Kyle Taylor

8D and 9D. Same Bed.

There were two options for heading south – flying from tiny airport to tiny airport for $90 or taking the overnight “VIP” sleeper bus for $15. We opted for the latter. Little did we know that two of us would literally be sharing a twin-size bed that wasn’t more than 5 foot 6 inches long (hao for Kyle, bu hao for me). The travel agent had told us to wait outside her office “around 6 or maybe 6:30. You will be picked up somewhere in there. I think.” The other charm of Laos is that NO ONE is in a hurry. Things just seem to happen when they happen, and everything works out fine in the end. We ended up flagging down a mini-bus that stopped down the street about 7pm, not wanting to miss our 8:30pm departure. They crammed us in with the other 13 people (imagine a 1993 Dodge Caravan with 13 massive backpacks on top, modified to somehow squeeze 13 people (plus driver) inside. It was hilarious, as were the other travelers who all seemed to have been playing the waiting game on their Vietnam VISAS, about to board a 32-hour non-sleeper bus to Hanoi. AWFUL.



We arrived in plenty of time, boarded with no problems and arrived exactly 11 hours later in Pakse, 600km to the south. Thank you Dr. Long for helping me sleep near-soundly for the duration of the journey, despite my knees being in my face and Kyle talking about everyone he had ever met in his sleep. It was truly a travel experience.



Pakse was nothing to write home about (the A/C didn’t work, the water heater didn’t work and the sink drained directly through the hole, though we did have 40 channels of cable, including CNN and HBO), but it acted as a perfect jumping off point to the Bolaven Plateau, the 4500 foot high center of Laos coffee production. Once again, it was scooter time. We covered roughly 200 miles of green fields, rice patties, tiny Laos people selling fruits and veggies along the road and an army of kids waving and shouting and smiling and laughing. It seemed that despite their abject poverty they were the happiest folks I had ever encountered. So warm and kind.



This was displayed best when we took a wide turn on the scooter and I got briefly relocated to the ground. Fortunately, we were going about 3mph. Unfortunately, the foot rest caught my foot and left me with a moderate flesh wound. To make matters worse, the clutch was wedged between the other foot rest and bike. Within minutes a half-dozen Laotians were swarming around the bike, checking tubes and flipping switches. One man noticed the clutch was stuck and gave instructions to someone else. Minutes later the other guy reappeared with a crow bar and they proceeded to readjust all the pieces to make it rideable again. We exchanged niceties and just like that, we were back on our way.




The rest of the day saw more coffee, more waving kids and some incredible waterfalls. Foot injury aside, we trekked 120 feet down, right to the base of Yuang Falls. The mist engulfed us and quite frankly, it was amazing. Definitely a trip highlight. Onward to Champasak!

--

Kyle Taylor

Most Perfect Place On Earth

I am addicted to Southeast Asian coffee. I have never in my life actually enjoyed coffee until this trek. Of course this probably has something to do with the fact that it doesn’t taste like coffee. No, coffee in Southeast Asia tastes like heaven. 50% Coffee, 50% Condensed Milk, 100% Magical (On ice, of course).




We arrived in Vientiane (the capitol of Laos) with no expectations whatsoever. Everyone I’ve ever talked to who had been to Vientiane said it was enchanting. Intoxicating. Perfect. I couldn’t agree more. The town’s population (it is in no way a city, which is a good thing) recently passed 150,000. This is the biggest city in the country. The downtown is 4 blocks wide and 3 blocks deep. That’s 12 square blocks of “downtown.” The entire city is nestled right up against the Mekong river, which is lined with stilted thatched-roof restaurants and corrugated steel-topped homes. There are no buses, no large trucks and certainly no subway routes, which makes this place even more perfect. The guide book labeled it “sleepy,” which fit perfectly. Bikes and small scooters dominated the roads. The three street signals in town were being strictly followed despite the lack of traffic (in fact, it is road law in Laos that the car closest to the Mekong has the right of way at stop signs, leading people to get out of their cars and discuss who is, in fact, closest the river).



We checked in to our windowless room and headed immediately for the Scandinavian Bakery. Years of French occupation have led to an abundance of baguette, fromage, croissant and other bready deliciousness all set in front of a charming backdrop of French colonials and Buddhist Wats (temples). Two cinnamon rolls and a chocolate chip cookie later we rented a scooter and cruised the streets, first to the Independence Monument, then the Mini Arc do Triumph and on to the Main Market. There are zero multinational chains here. No Starbucks, no McDonalds and no Carrefour or Target. Instead, there is a central market made up of roughly 200 stalls that each sell one department of a Target-esque store. It’s totally brilliant. Everyone specializes, every need is met and everyone has a livelihood. Loved it.



We finished night one at Sunset Bar, watching the light drift past the horizon over Thailand (located just at the other side of the river). Of course, that was after a three-course dinner of salad, rib-eye steak smothered in Roquefort cheese and French fries on the side; all for a whopping $6. It was perfect.





Day two welcomed two Americans and a Brit to our circle of fun for a half-day cooking lesson in several Laos specialties. Before heading to the bus station we stopped off once more on the river to take in a delicious cocktail (which I helped make behind the bar), followed by a stock-up trip to the bakery. Overnight bus meant provisions were necessary. Next stop, Pakse.

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Kyle Taylor