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!!!
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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