Ant Baguette

Hello :)

Today we are heading from Kampot in the South, to Siem Reap with a little stop at Phnom Penh on the way through. Our friendly guest house lady, the same one who booked us the sandwiched-into-the-back-of-a-ute drive up Bokor Mountain, organised our tickets for the bus.
It was an early start - so Naomi picked up some baguettes (crappy bread rolls, the only French element remaining was the name) for us to eat on the bus.

















Look closely, and you might be able to spot the ants that we discovered after eating half of the roll.

Other than the disappointment of an ant-ridden breakfast, the first leg of the bus ride went pretty well.
























I was quite amused when plastic chairs started to line the aisle, so that more people would be able to buy seats for the bus.














Eventually, quite a little crowd was filling the front section - although this is nothing compared to how the locals travel. We had the luxury of two people in each pair of seats! Further down the bus (they give the Westerners the front few rows) there were whole families sharing the space provided by one pair of seats.

A halfway stop at the 7 Nice Super Shop gave us a chance to stretch our legs, get some fresh air and stand in everyone's pee at the very well frequented toilet block.



































(7-Nice is, apparently, now newly opened)

Some hours later, we found ourselves once again on the streets of Phnom Penh. It was beautiful to see the giant frangipani trees lining certain roads again, and also fun to watch the traffic mayhem.
While driving to the bus station I spotted this for Paul -


















although I wasn't able to catch their contact details. It could have been just what we were looking for!

Now, I had made the mistake of thinking that we were halfway through our drive, and the simple process of changing buses would be... well, a simple process.
We gathered our bags from the first bus, only to find Naomi's bag had been removed from the other side - there were a few scary moments before we discovered that it was still with us.
Having sorted our baggage, we were cheerily informed to be back at the same time tomorrow to get the bus to Siem Reap.
It took twenty minutes of careful negotiation to convince the bus company that it would be a good idea to get us to Siem Reap today, considering that was what the ticket said and that was what I had paid for. Reasoning such as "but today is Saturday" really were not going to convince me.
They got one of their buddies to drive us around in circles for a while, and then to a depot of different bus company where we stood around aimlessly before discovering that we had been slotted on to another bus that was leaving in just under an hour.















The good natured vendors, wearing all the hats they could find, left us alone after the first few rounds of refusals.
We bought some bananas, one of which was given to a young toddler nearby... and a sneaky man looked at our ticket, then told us the bus about to leave was ours. He did this because when we rushed over to it, his mum sat down on the seat Naomi had been occupying.
























Instead, Naomi retired to the covered driveway where she exchanged smiles with a gang of teenagers sitting against the opposite wall.















I amused myself by watching the world go by on a typical Phnom Penh street scene... and wondered if the timber stacked neatly across the road had come from the beautiful forests we had driven through on our way through Bokor. Was it only the day before? ahh, yes. The bruises on my ribs and buttocks certainly said so.















After what felt like a very long wait, our bus did arrive and we climbed aboard - only, we had Seat no.2, and Seat A.
It turns out "seat A" is the small folding chair next to the driver! The bus man tried to convince several locals to move there, but they all refused (and rightly so! they had paid for their proper seats just like everyone else). So it was me this time, who was sitting in the aisle of the bus! The photo above shows Naomi in the rear-view mirror, in the luxury of Seat No.2 and as seen from my very much front row Seat A.

While in the front of the bus, alongside the driver, I found myself really paying attention to those we were sharing the road with.
























Chicken Man, with dozens of live chickens draped over his bike.

Also, the next vehicle - sporting a Star of David on the back window.















These guys were a long way from Caulfield!

I was not very sad to leave Phnom Penh... with the excitement of the temples being only six hours away, and the fact that after Bokor no road could really scare me any more.












One of the bridges, where footpaths are used for motorcycles, and I guess people just find somewhere else to cross.

Unless, that is, they all pile on top of each other in whatever transport is available.

























The above image is in fact fairly tame. We once spotted 40+ people on a ute (seven or eight rows, 6 people in a row) and even a motorbike with a family of seven - three adults and four kids!
Bikes with four or five are fairly common. The load of seven was pretty special.

















In no way was it limited to people getting stacked in ridiculous proportions! This (above) rider not only carried his buddy with him, but also enough wicker furniture to cage a thousand monkeys... or start your own low budget hotel. :)

The drive started to take its toll on me in my little folding chair next to the driver, and Naomi was kind enough to swap at one of our breaks.














For the rest of the ride, she was the one on the rickety chair.
Some hours later - after 12 hours on the road, in fact - we reached our destination.
The first night spent in Siem Reap was at the Freedom Hotel, where we were not greeted with much of a smile. It was a temporary stay for us while we waited for a room to be vacated at another place.

Our desire to leave was confirmed when we sat down to dinner.
Naomi found her legs tickled by a large cricket navigating its way up her trousers, and then the last straw came as we watched a giant rat casually strolling through the hotel restaurant.
















Amusements from the menu aside, we were happy to leave first thing the next morning.
And that is where you will find us next!

until then...

smiles from Naomi and Guy.

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Bumpy Ride To Bokor

Guess what?!? We are back!
Please do not fear, however... the pictures and stories will keep coming so that the important moments do not get lost in time.
The next story brings us bouncing and shaking along the road to Bokor Hill Station.

A bit of background info: Bokor is a mountain, 1080m high just near the Southern seaside town of Kep. It has a colourful history, thanks to the strategic advantage provided by the vista from the top. The Hill Station is a collection of French Colonial buildings built in the 1920s, as an escape from the heat and hustle of Phnom Penh. Most prominent amongst these buildings are the Palace and Hotel Casino.
All buildings have been abandoned, stripped bare, and exist now as monuments to a time gone by.
The mountain was the scene of much fighting when independence was sought from the French in the 1940s, and then it changed hands again several times during the Vietnam War and the struggles between Vietnamese and Khmer Rouge forces in 1970s-80s.
That's about as much as I can remember for now... let's get on to the pictures!


Our friendly lady at Senmonorom Guest House booked us a ride up the hill. We did not really know what we were in for... even though we had been told it was "a rough road".
I had thought we would be in a 4wd vehicle. Instead, we were on the back of a small ute. It picked us up bright and early, and it seemed as though we had free run of the tray in the back. However, several stops at several other guest houses later found us sharing the small tray with seven others.
The drive to the foot of the mountain was smooth and quite comfortable, as we adjusted to the close proximity of strangers. That was where the comfort stopped...


















You can see the crazy angle our vehicle is on. This was one of the smoother moments, when I wasn't hanging on for dear life. The drive from the base to the top of the mountain is about 20km, and it took us two hours to cover this distance. We spent the whole time holding on for all it is worth (actually, that isn't so impressive, considering on this day our lives were worth precisely $8) but we held on tight regardless.
Once upon a time, there was a nice smooth bitumen road up the mountain. The French built it in the 1920s (or rather, the French forced indentured locals, many who perished along the way, to build it for them). This road did a wonderful job of helping people up and down the mountain for many years.
When the Vietnamese left the area they decided to drive tanks up and down the only access road, shredding the surface to render it unusable for the next inhabitants. One of the many charming activities retreating forces perform during times of conflict.
So - the surface of the road now consists of brief islands of bitumen, separated by furrows of sand and rocks every few feet. Without a break, for 32km (after 20km you reach the plateau, but the road is complete crap for its full length).















Our gang, all nine of us, snuggled in to the tray. You can see the girl near the back reading the map - none of us dared to ask "are we there yet" although it was on everyone's mind!

Once or twice, a particularly abrupt bump and bounce would send our vehicle heading straight for the precipice, rather than the more sensible option of pointing forwards along the road. At one of these moments, the driver gingerly eased us back on track and away from the abyss... and then we all got out to catch our breath while he had a tinker with something had been making a particularly disturbing rattle under the hood. He reached a point where we were going to have to call for alternate transport, but then decided to forge ahead - in the next image, you can see a bolt just in front of the wheel, that clearly wasn't important enough to be included in the reassembly of whatever he had been tinkering with. Very reassuring :)
















The car rattled its way on, and if it wasn't for the continual bouncing we would have loved the drive up the hill. It was bizarre and beautiful to watch hand-sized (even my hand!) butterflies keeping pace with us in their delicate fluttering, and a multitude of stunning iridescent insects that would alight for moments on our legs, arms, hair, and mouths... but we had no time to appreciate them. The forest changed as we climbed higher, from lush tropical, to giant palms, and then smaller and more slender plant life in the higher altitude. In one brief but rather excited moment, I spotted a monkey disappearing into the canopy. My only wild simian sighting of the whole holiday.















Naomi with our little Toota vehicle, at our halfway stop when we reached the plateau. The driver was dripping with sweat, after his efforts to get us up there safely.
So, what is the fuss all about? Why would any sensible person subject themselves to such an ordeal?
It is all because of this...
















The Bokor Hotel and Casino, standing eerily silent in a reminder of times gone by. This palatial building is completely empty - only the masonry remains, the rest having been pilfered over the years. Well, in places the damage even went down to the stonework; many rooms had floor tiles missing also.
It is a bizarre feeling to wander the great halls, stairways and corridors.

























Much of the exterior is blackened from the passage of time, and patched with bright orange lichen. The above image is from the second level, looking across the main entrance from the South Wing. The following image shows lichen on a window sill.
All of the windows, window frames, fittings and fixtures, wiring - everything that could be carried away - has been removed. Much was taken by occupiers as they left, but also the famine of 1979-80 (when rice crops weren't planted during the decline of the Khmer Rouge) found people particularly desperate and anything that was seen as valuable was stripped from the buildings.
















The staircases were quite stunning, as they led us from one floor to the next of the five storey building.








































In the next image, I am wandering through the grand ballroom. Or was it a gaming hall? Either way, the space suggested an opulence that must have been quite spectacular. I have tried to find images of the casino/hotel during operation, but have had no luck so far.
























Naomi found herself troubled by the thought of military men occupying the luxurious building, peeing in the corners and scratching their names into the plaster. Today, tourists have replaced them. Hopefully the tourists are less sinister in their intent. The smell of pee did get a bit strong in places!

Naomi with some ornate flooring...























Also interesting, was the funky tiling in many of the bathrooms. Here Naomi was so immersed in the experience that she found herself scrubbing away...















It is always good to get to those hard to reach, grimy spots.
Many windows framed spectacular views of surrounding structures. This water tower in the distance has the appearance of an intergalactic landing pod...























and the plant life taking root was a nice little teaser for our temple experience in the days to follow :)
















A giant concrete parasol, like a silent mushroom, is perched slightly inland from the hotel. Apparently it provided shade for guests, a place for light refreshments while they strolled around.























These images (above/below) show the interesting spiral staircase on the outside of the former Police Station that served the mountaintop community.














In another building - a church that had been converted into a Khmer refuge - I had a little play in the kitchen. Thanks to a wonderful vegie curry that bounced its way up the road with us, we did not find ourselves in need of anything beyond this imaginary meal.
























Our time at Bokor Hill Station was all too brief. Even though there is the following warning:















it would have been great to have spent longer exploring the little ghost town. There are a dozen or so buildings, as well as the main attraction of the hotel casino. Some people stay at the Ranger's Station, which has just been renovated and now looks more like a guest house than an official post. For anyone out there who may be considering braving the bumpy road to Bokor, I would strongly recommend staying overnight!
We were disappointed to be leaving after less than two hours at the top. For us, a drive of over four hours rattling in the back of a ute would have been more validated by a longer stay at the site.

There remains one last feature to tell you about. The Hotel Casino building faces a sweeping escarpment, from which you can see all the way to the coast and the islands of Vietnam. It is quite a drop to the tropical forest below, and our guide had stories of distressed gamblers hurling themselves over the edge after a bad night at the casino tables. He also had sombre tales of Khmer Rouge soldiers marching "dissidents" to their deaths, and said there were a number of mass graves nearby from what he called "our own killing fields".
















The cliff edge is bordered by a low stone wall. Walking towards it, you hear the wind in the grass, the chitter chatter of tourists and their cameras... but then as your sight line drops, the sounds of the jungle sweep over you quite abruptly. The forest down there is teeming with wildlife. Birds, insects, monkeys, even tigers and elephants! It was a novel experience to step back and forward across the invisible barrier between mountaintop plateau sounds and mysterious jungle sounds.

Reluctantly, we piled back into the vehicle for our bouncy ride home. They seemed to think it would be a great idea to have a boat ride while the sun set behind the hill, to calm our nerves after the drive. Personally, I was not so fond of the idea - but had not choice but to play along.

Just as we were climbing down the bank to get in to the boat, I heard a horrible squeal -
















and we were confronted with the disturbing sight of a trussed pig, waiting to be thrown on the back of a bike for the long journey to market. Over the weeks, we saw many such creatures - but it still had the same effect on our delicate sensibilities.

The boat ride was much more soothing than the tortured pig. It was fun to see school kiddies on their way home, transporting bicycles across the river.
















The sunset over the mountain was indeed spectacular (although at this stage we were really feeling the bruises on our buttocks)
















and eventually we were back in Kampot, where Naomi and I rushed down to the Seeing Hands outlet for a little pampering.
Seeing Hands is an organisation that takes blind Cambodians and teaches them Shiatsu Massage, so that they can have a meaningful career. That is, assuming that kneading the pudgy white skin of rich tourists is meaningful in some way! We did very much appreciate the one hour massage after a long day, and happily gave them payment beyond the asking price of $4 per hour.

After the massage, we went to our favourite little garden cafe, and had dinner with a cute puppy playing under the table in the hope of receiving a few food scraps.


















Whew! So that is our day trip to Bokor Hill Station.
The next installment will take us for a 12 hour bus journey as we travel from the coast, up through Phnom Penh and on to Siem Reap - it is Temple Time!

Hope you are enjoying the journey,

- Naomi and Guy.


Bokor!!!

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Filling in the gaps...

Hello again :)

It is time to start filling in some gaps as we catch up on the time since we left the coast heading North to Siem Reap and the land of temples in the forest.

There are a few more moments from the seaside to share...























- a motorbike riding through the internet cafe in Sihanoukville, all the way to the residence behind!















One last view from our bungalow balcony. This one, looking towards Occheuteal Beach. The next image is from the other side of the hill, where we spent most of our time.
















I did not spend most of my time in the air! Only during brief moments, when it seemed appropriate to leave the ground.
Here is a more sensible image of the Otres Beach side of the peninsula, with one of the cute bungalows visible in the trees.















On our last night we decided to eat dinner at Durian Boy's cafe.
Much to our disappointment, he wasn't there... but we soon learned that he was out with his cousin getting supplies from the market. The supplies he personally returned with were not quite essential items for a beachside cafe, but we did all have fun together as the kids ran to Naomi and myself demanding that we inflate balloon after balloon.















After all the hard work (from hammocks, of course) of blowing, we were entertained by gentle balloon play for the evening.

Much fun for all, of course - although it did interrupt our meal as the kids were quite insistent. That was the last we saw of Durian and his family. I'll leave you now with Naomi playing the bizarre and ever evolving "hello" game, that the young girl had improvised earlier in the week.

With a taxi booked for 7am, we woke at 7:30, after an alarm clock malfunction and quickly packed our bags. On the road at 8, heading for Kampot...
















where school children fill the streets to hear speeches over loudspeakers in the morning,
























and interesting architecture pops up every now and then. The interesting elements were by no means limited to the outside of buildings! in our guest house, there was a mysterious small entrance on one of the stair landings.
























Just what does the Love Doormat signify? Passing by one time, there were two wet footprints on the heart. This only confused me more, as there can't be enough space behind for a swimming pool - let alone a bath, probably not a shower and I seriously doubt even a hand basin.

I did not allow the mystery of the heart mat to bother me for too long. There were other oddities to ponder - such as this collection of items pinned to the wall at the top of the stairs -

















Many structures here have small Buddhist shrines dotted about the place. Could this be such an installation? I was confused by the symbology represented by this collection, but maybe it is linked to the heart mat in some mysterious way.

From Kampot we wanted to head to Rabbit Island - Brasil (what a great name! He was also very smiley) the moto driver offered his services, promising his bike was really good - new, fast, safe.

We walked with him to where his bike was being repaired at the side of the road. Not so reassuring, but it was amazing to see the grizzled mechanic work his magic on a busy street corner.


































In no time, the tyre was repaired and we were on our bone-shattering way down the coast to the seaside town of Kep.



















Weeeeeeee! Brasil was very zippy, and we were soon on a boat to the island.















The boat drivers seemed like ordinary teenage boys at first, but have a look at the closer image of the driver's teeth -
















I think he might be a vampire! A real one. Not one of those Transylvanian/Hollywood pretenders.

(and why was he plucking his chest hairs?!? Maybe vampires prefer the smooth look and feel)

Anyway - the boat took us to Rabbit Island...















Not a real (or imagined) vampire in sight, just smooth water, beautiful palm trees and empty beaches. No rabbits ;)
One of the real charms of Rabbit Island is the peace and quiet. There are no motos, or petrol vehicles of any kind there. A welcome change after the mayhem of the mainland.
























A nuggety little local man scurries up one of the tall and mighty palms... his agility was inspiring to watch.

Puppies have been pulling at my heartstrings here in Cambodia, and the following one was no exception! He had made himself a small divet in the sand, and promptly dropped off to sleep in the shade. So adorable.
























Looks a little like Paco when he was young! Of course, Paco is still particularly handsome in his twilight years :)















We did eventually have to leave the island. It was a wonderful refresher to see the water again, but our time on the sand has come to an end.

On the way home, Brasil's speedy bike had some more mechanical issues. The following image is of the children sleeping behind yet another roadside mechanic's impromptu workshop.

Not quite as cute as a puppy, but about as close as you can get ;)

Ok. There is now only one adventure to fill in before we start on the temples around Siem Reap. Our trip to Bokor Hill Station deserves a post of its own, and that is what you will hear about next time.

We will leave today with some Phnom Penh memories... a gorgeous girl abusing the monkey across the road from our hotel... a young boy in pink silk pyjama pants who spent hours going back and forth... and the hotel room key - fashioned from a former key, that had been snapped in half, the name scrubbed off, and the new room number written on a makeshift sticker. Who said the hotel was dodgy?!?

Much love from both of us,

- Naomi and Guy.

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