ONE DAY IN BATTAMBANG

Day 23, April 13^th

Today is going to be a quick day.  We have one day in Battambang and quite a few things to get to.

Mom and dad are down stairs early.  Our tuk-tuk driver, Dara, is right on time at 9am.  I am late, as usual.  As I walk through the lobby, mom stops me and introduces me to a French lady who used to be a tour guide in Cambodia.  She gives me the lowdown on a beach town in Cambodia called Kep.  She says it is better than Sihanoukville, the beach town we plan to go to.  I have to buy our bus tickets for tomorrow morning out of Battambang right now.  Crap!  I have no idea which city to go to and we likely won’t have time to go to the other if we don’t like the one we go to.  I have to buy the bus tickets now.  Plan C.  Phnom Penh.  We’ll go there first and then the beach after that.  That way I have more time to research the two beach cities.  I purchase tickets and we are off on our day.

Patton commends me on my rational decision about the bus tickets.  Great!  Now I REALLY feel like I made a mistake.  No going back now.

Assembly step 1.

 Our first stop is a Patton discovery.  Actually, Battambang and everything in it is a Patton discovery.  The first stop is the bamboo train.  It’s a bamboo platform set on wheels that races up and down uneven, single-track, French-era rails powered by a loud lawnmower engine.  When two ‘trains’ come head to head, the one with less cargo is disassembled and the other is allowed to pass through.  These are still used to transport people and goods to and from the market.

Assembly step 2.

When we get there, it must be tourist day.  No market.  The track is set up and organized for tourists.  Dara grabs the seats from his tuk-tuk and puts them on the bamboo flat.  Our VIP ‘train’ is ready.  We mount up, the engine is cranked into action.  It’s slow moving at first.  But, as the wind picks up and the ground starts flying by, the ‘train’ feels pretty fast.  Just incase you are on the verge of getting comfortable, the uneven and occasionally unconnected tracks sends an unsettling jolt through the flat to remind you how primitive this is.

We go about 15 minutes and then stop at a ‘station’.  It’s a place to buy food and souvenirs.   It is amazing, this country never misses an opportunity to sell you a can of Pringles and a 7up.  We spend a few minutes at the ‘station’.  Mom makes friends with the ‘station chief’.  This little girl makes me a ring out of banana leaf.  I think I am married now, or at least intended.  A few pictures and we ride the rails back.

The lovely couple.

After the bamboo train, we do a few more stops at a bridge and a winery.  Suffice it to say, there is a reason Cambodia isn’t known for its fermented grapes.  Moving on.  Right after the winery, we pass by a Cambodian wedding.  The Cambodian weddings are very loud, colorful affairs.  Karaoke.  What else needs to be said.  The bride and groom are outside taking pictures and they wave to us.  Several more people wave to us and invite us in for a drink.  I hope they aren’t serving wine.  We keep moving.

We arrive at a temple and there appears to be a huge ceremony going on.  I know we are approaching the Khmer New Year, but this looks religious.  Then again, how can I tell the difference in the ceremonies?  The temple is on the hilltop, the highest temple in Battambang and there are many steps to get to the top.  About 300 I think.

Initially there is hesitation about allowing us to climb to the temple.  I am getting the vibe that the ceremony is preventing us from being able to climb, which is fine.  Then someone brings up the fact that there is a back way, through the woods to the back of the temple.  We can go up and down that way.  More discussion.  There is a big group congregated now to discuss this.  We have no clue what they are saying.  Finally, the decision is made.  We can go up the steps to the temple, but walk down the back way through the woods.  That’s cool, but doesn’t make sense to me.  I guess the ceremony dictates no one comes down the steps?

The climb.

Mini break.

We start off for the steps and are immediately given ‘guides’.  Three women and a boy.  That seems excessive.  They will show us up the steps and lead us down the back way.  We pass by the ceremony and start up the steps.

You gotta be joking!  I cannot believe this!  Now I know why they were so hesitant about letting us climb the steps and it had nothing to do with the ceremony.  And these guides aren’t guides.  They are ‘assistants’.  As in assisting old people up the steps.  They looked at mom and dad and figured they couldn’t physically make it up the steps to the temple and the back way was the less strenuous, easy way up and down.  I guess they thought they could minimize the risk by having ‘professional assistants’ aiding the geriatrics in their ascent.  This is really pathetic.

To dad’s credit, he doesn’t need the help.  He is shocked there is a five-year-old boy on one arm and a young lady on the other ‘helping' him.  Dad’s just playing along.  Mom, she has a stool and pale and is milking this thing.  The two ladies helping her are massaging her while we climb up the steps.  She moans at how good it feels and how much it helps her.  We stop every 20 steps or so so they can massage her thighs and calves.  I am dumbfounded.  I can’t even get someone to fan me with a banana leaf.  Ridiculous!

Big break.

One major break and about 5 mini-breaks later we are at the top at the temple.  Mom barely even walks around.  She sits on a bench while her helpers massage her, fan her and tell her how good she did.  “Kevin, look around and tell me if I need to come see anything.”  Déjà vu.

I do a little walk around the temple.  It’s pretty nice.  Worth the walk up.  Time to walk down.

Again, mom and dad are flanked by their helpers.  Holding their arms.  Fanning them.  Pointing out treacherous pebbles in the path.  Holding back dangerous twigs that overhang the trail.  I can’t believe I am paying witness to this.

Somehow, mom and dad miraculously survive the descent without having a heart attack or passing out from exhaustion.  Good-byes and tips to our heroes and we are back on the road to the next place.

Entrance to the Killing Cave.

The Killing Cave is one of the lesser-known places from the darkest period in Cambodia’s history.  Like the Killing Fields in Phnom Penh, the Killing Cave is where the members of the Khmer Rouge would take people who were believed to be a threat to Pol Pot to be killed.  There is an area there where the adults were killed and an area where the babies were killed.  They were never shot.  The Khmer Rouge didn’t want to waste the ammunition.  An estimated 800 – 900 people were killed at the Killing Cave by knife, rock or being swung like a baseball bat in to the cave wall.  The number is small compared to the tens of thousands of people killed at the Killing Fields, but no less horrific when you stand in the cave and see the skulls, bones and clothes.

A shrine of skulls.

Dara brought us to a restaurant he knew about at the bottom of the mountain with the Killing Cave.  After a quick break, three guys from the restaurant take us up to the top on motorbikes.  The head guy explained the story of the Killing Cave as best he could in English.  You can see in the way he talks that it isn’t some event that happened lifetimes ago.  It is a very recent part of Cambodian history.  Within his lifetime.  It is something the country is still dealing with.

We walk around to a few more temples and structures on the top of the mountain and then we are done.  Done for the day.  Time to go back to the hotel.

Our trusted guide, Dara, assisting mom.

At the hotel, we thank Dara.  I give him the money for the day with a tip.  He really was an amazing kid.  He sees that I have given him more than we had agreed upon.  His face lights up, he brings his hands together, does a small bow and says, “Thank you for giving me a job today.”  Wow.  That is such a unique, telling and humbling phrase to hear.  During the day, he constantly talked about school, learning, working, wanting to do so much.  He has the right attitude.  Actually, it seems as though everyone in Battambang has the right attitude.  It lacks the seediness and greed that permeates so much of Siem Reap.  I hope it stays that way.

We head out into the small city and find a nice quiet dinner.  I have been craving a cheeseburger.  This certainly isn’t Hut’s Hamburgers, but it will have to hold me over for the next few weeks.  We turn in early.  Tomorrow morning we head to the ‘rational’ destination.

Unassistedly yours,

The Dagwood

www.kevinarmstrongphotography.com
www.facebook.com/kevinarmstrongphotography

THE BOATMEN

Day 22, April 12^th

Today is a travel day, but not the usual travel day.  We are taking a boat from Siem Reap to Battambang with the purpose of getting from one place to the next as well as see the floating villages.  This was Patton’s discovery.

Local transportation.

We are up early and downstairs right on time at 5:45am.  The bus is late as usual.  At least we get to have breakfast.  The bus arrives and there is room for three people and five people to pick up.  Typical.  Atypical, they leave the extra two and pick up only mom, dad and I.  We are shocked.  We take off.  Only a few blocks away we stop.  This is our rest stop/food break.  Typical.  I’m sure it is relatives again.  Apparently, the boat will not have food available for purchase.  I don’t believe that.  A few people load up on food and we are off.  We pass by our hotel again, go a few more blocks and stop.  Another pick up.  Despite being full, we are picking up three more people.  Two of them are the original two from our hotel.  Disorganized.  This is more like it.  Twelve people and only seats for nine.  This is becoming very common in Cambodia, worse than any of the other countries we have been in. 

Another pick up.

We get to the boat and it is an open-air boat.  Hardwood seats.  No leaning back.  Upright the whole time.  The description of the trip is 6 ½ to 9 hours, or more.  Again, this was Patton’s idea.  Off we go and it is a little less than interesting,.  The canal we are in is pretty barren and the engine is deafening.  We break out of the canal and into Tonle Sap lake.  The lake is huge, but it can’t be deep.  There are sticks standing straight up across the lake with colored flags tide to them to mark directions.  A few fishermen on the lake, other than that, nothing.  We eventually get to the other side of the lake and enter into another canal, the canal that leads to Battambang.

Weaving through the canal is slow going, but nice.  People live on floating houses and any kind of wake created by boats causes the houses to start rocking.  On top of that, the boat is just like the busses.  We are constantly picking up and dropping off people.  This is their transit system within the canals and on the lake.

A stark contrast.

This is likely the only way we could have seen true river life.  It really is amazing.  Score one for Patton. 

One interesting observation about river life is the level of poverty contrasted by the opulence of their temples.  In some areas where people’s houses are half way in the river or their walkways or walls seem to be made out of the most weathered of sticks, they have these grand temples.  Big.  Beautiful.  Sturdy.  Painted.  Extremely ornate.  A complete contrast to their living conditions. 

The river restaurant.

I knew it!!  There was no way that rest stop/food stop this morning was the only opportunity to buy food and drinks.  We stop at a river restaurant.  This guy was expecting us.  Family or friend as usual.  The crew of the boat eat free.

The bathroom is weird.  Four walls and no floor, just places to put your feet on the sides.  It’s just going to the bathroom in the river.  Mom and dad pass on the food and just get some drinks.  I see one drink that I have to have.  No idea what it was at first, doesn’t matter.  Black Panther.  There is no way you can not try that.  Upon a further look see, Black Panther Beer.  A must.  Cause 60% of the time, it tastes great every time.  That plus some rice with ‘sauce’, and it is a fantastic river meal.

60% of the time...

Now the trip is just dragging on.  Even Patton is ready to get off.  It seems like we are on an endless series of drop offs.  Weaving back and forth across the river from bank to bank letting people off.  No docks.  Just get as close to land as possible and hope they can make it.  We are beyond the 6 ½ to 9-hour range.  We are in the ‘or more’ range now.  This is described as the most enchanting boat ride in all of Cambodia.  I would hate to be stuck on the second most enchanting boat ride.  Plus, there is an ominous cloud forming overhead.  I hear thunder.  I think I saw some lightening.  It’s only getting worse.  I hope we get to the hotel before the downpour.

After 11 hours on this boat, we finally get to the dock in Battambang, and by dock I mean an area where several men try to yank you off of the moving boat on to a cement step before you fall in the river.  There is no dock.

Advertising knows no boundaries.

Before we left in Siem Reap, mom was handed a brochure for a hotel and it jives with the description in the book.  I don’t feel like sweating a place to stay right now, so we are going straight there.  As we pull up to the ‘dock’, the shore is covered with tuk-tuk drivers yelling and shouting, pushing and jostling.

One kid catches my eye.  He has a salty set of whiskers and the energy to match.  Yelling.  Elbowing.  Plus, he is holding a sign that says free ride to the hotel we are going to.  I point at him.  Eye contact.  Head nod.  The deal is set and he springs into action, pushing his way through to get to mom, dad and I.  He grabs our bags and off we go.  He seems like a great kid.

We get there, check out the room, looks good, settle in.  I chat with our tuk-tuk driver, Dara, and we make arrangements for him to be our personal driver for all of the next day.  I don’t know if it is common for the tuk-tuk drivers to do this, but Dara gives free rides to foreigners arriving on the boats or busses to their hotels in the hopes of securing much more business from them for the duration of their stay.  It worked.

We head down to the local market and get some food for dinner and we are done for the day.  Rice.  Fruit.  Chicken.  ‘Sauce’.  Shower.  Masks.  Sleep.

Disenchantingly yours,

Kevin Fantana

www.kevinarmstrongphotography.com
www.facebook.com/kevinarmstrongphotography

I NEVER SAID I WAS MATURE

Day 21, April 11^th

It’s our last day in Siem Reap and it is going to be an easy one.  After the usual start to the day, we are off to an artisan workshop.  They take kids who are homeless, uneducated, victims of landmines, disadvantaged for whatever reason and teach them the skills of woodworking, rock carving and other things to help restore the temples and make souvenirs.  It is really amazing what they are able to accomplish.  It's a pretty quick tour through the shop, especially since we don’t buy anything.  And we are out.

From bad...

I have talked the kids into taking a cooking class and we have a few hours before it starts.  Dad wants to feed the fish again.  The fish line the glass of the tank when they see his hooves coming their way.  His feet hit the water and they attack like piranhas.  And I’m on the other end.  Alone.  Mom is in the other tank.  While her feet are not the Thanksgiving feast that dad’s are, her feet are at least a Big Mac combo, supersized.  My feet don’t stand a chance against theirs.  For once, my shower gloves have done me wrong.

Time for the cooking class.  Looks like it will just be the three of us.  There are three main dishes, three starters and three desserts to choose from and we each get to do one of the three categories.  I actually enjoy the Cambodian food and want to learn some of it, so I choose the chicken amok, spring rolls and pea soup dessert.  Mom and dad don’t really like any of the Cambodia food, so they get the rest.  Mom gets chicken curry (she hates curry) and dad gets Cambodian soup (he hates soup).  I can already hear the complaining.

...to worse.

Right before the class starts we are joined by two girls who are also taking the class.  Mom immediately downloads the information.  They know everything about our trip within minutes.  She’s efficient.

Our teacher shows up and has a pretty tough accent.  Everyone else can’t really understand her, so I become the ‘translator’.  First thing is first, we all have to put on our aprons and chef hats.  I just want to learn the spices and cooking techniques, not play dress up.  We all have to wear the uniform.  The only positive note is that dad hates it worse than I do.

In her element.

The instructor starts slowly and explains everything well.  We start off with some chopping of vegetables for our main dishes.  Then we move to mixing some spices.  Now, the spices have to be mixed up and smashed to create a paste that is the base for the flavor of two of the main dishes.  It all must be smashed and pounded in a stone grinder.  Not easy apparently.  Mom has a go at it.  Then dad.  Then me. 

I’m sorry, I know it is immature, but you can’t miss the innuendo when watching this being done.  The hard, fast, up and down motion.  The pounding.  The beating.  Dad can’t stop laughing while I’m doing this.  Plus, it doesn’t help that the instructor is next to me telling me to “beat it harder.”  I can barely keep a straight face.  I know, I should be more grown up than this.  Apparently I’m not.  Given the fact that one of dad’s favorite movies and mine is KINGPIN, this really isn’t a shock.

During all of this, mom doesn’t see the resemblance.  She just thinks we are all having a good time and enjoying the cooking class in our apron and hat.  Ever the polite lady, she turns to the two other girls in our class and offers, “would you two girls like to help Kevin beat it?”  Her exact words.  Verbatim.  I’m done.  I can’t do this anymore.  Someone else can beat it.  Pound it.  Make paste.  Whatever you want to call.  I’m exhausted from the heat, starving and my maturity level is rapidly plummeting.

He is VERY excited about this.

Paste is eventually made and it is time to bring these dishes together and wrap it up.  The instructor isn’t as patient as she was at the beginning.  She’s rushing.  Just trying to get done.  Doing things for us.  Not teaching.  Oh well, I’m starving and not mature enough to be an accomplished Khmer chef.

The meals are finished.  We sit down and eat.  Dad hates his main dish.  Mom isn’t a fan of hers.  Mine is pretty good.  My fresh spring rolls are delicious!  Dad does like his fried spring rolls.  All is not lost.  After the meal, despite the suffocating heat, we wait for our free t-shirts that we will never wear.  Cooking class done.

What is that stuff in the middle?

After the cooking class, we kill time.  What are we killing time for, you ask?  Our next real massage.  After the last massage experience, you may be surprised to know that I am the driving force behind this massage.  I saw something on a brochure that I had to try…the 4-hands massage.  That’s right, two girls, and they will be girls this time, massaging at once.  I have never even heard of this in the states.  I gotta see what this is like.  Also, dad, newly empowered by his successful fish massages, is going to give it a try one more time.  He is getting a one-hour Swedish massage while mom and I are getting the 4-hands for two hours.

Do they have to watch?

Dad is a bit nervous.  He does not want to go through another tenderizer like the last two times.  He keeps imploring me to make sure the massage will be soft.  So, I tell the girls the rules.  He has to have a girl and the massage had to be soft.  I jokingly call him a big weenie because he needs a soft massage.  The girls all laughed. 

My massage is hands down the best massage I have ever had.  The girls have trained a lot to perfect this.  They basically divide your body in half, left and right, and simultaneously massage your body in unison, same rhythm, same intensity.  Two hours.  I feel like jello now.  Mom agrees, the best massage she has ever had as well.    We will now search out more of these massages for the duration of our trip.

I just remembered, when it was time for all three of us to go to our massage rooms, I reminded the girls one last time about dad needing a soft massage.  I patted him on the shoulder, pointed to him and told the girls, “Big weenie, biiiiig weenie!”  Wait a minute.  That probably doesn’t translate properly, especially considering all of the “extras” in most massage places.  Oh well, if they try to check, mom will be there to protect him.

Paste makingly yours,

Chez Kevòn

www.kevinarmstrongphotography.com
www.facebook.com/kevinarmstrongphotography

GAGA OVER RAMBO

Day 19, April 9^th

We are in no rush whatsoever.  Exhausted to say the least.  After yesterday’s 16-hour marathon of traveling, we need a low-key day.

The landmine museum.

After a nice breakfast at the hotel restaurant we get a tuk-tuk out to the landmine museum.  Cambodia suffers from the U.S. – Vietnam war in the same way Laos does.  Lots of landmines left over from the war.  The museum is an extension of one man’s work to rid his country of unexploded ordinance (UXO).  This is a very interesting man, Aki Ra.  As a Cambodian fighting with the Khmer Rouge, he laid mines for Pol Pot.  He then joined the Vietnamese and used landmines to fight against Pol Pot.  Since the U.S. – Vietnam war ended, he uses his knowledge of landmines to clear them.  It is estimated that he has cleared close to 50,000 mines in total.  He was selected as one of CNN’s Heroes.

Patton's flipper.

Pyle's flipper.

After the museum, we head back to town and just relax for the rest of the evening.  Patton has heard about this thing called a fish massage.  Huh?  Are they going to use a live or dead fish to pound away at your body to massage your muscles?  That’s what I’m thinking.  Thankfully, I am wrong.  It is a giant fish tank of small fish, put your feet in and they eat away the dead skin.  Sounds creepy.  We found a place with two tanks.  One with small fish and one with bigger fish.  I dunk my flippers in the tank with the bigger fish and I can’t handle it.  Too weird.  I try again.  Nope.  Too creepy.  This isn’t happening.   I move to the tank with the smaller fish and it takes me a while.  Finally, I can relax.  Still weird, but not so bad.  After I get used to the small fish, I move back to the tank with the bigger fish.  I can handle it this time.  But, I am sharing a tank with Patton, the man who has never even heard of exfoliating.  He is a walking All-U-Can-Eat buffet for these fish.  His feet are the Cambodian Golden Coral.  And right now they are all lined up on his end of the tank.  I have a couple on my end circling my feet.  But, they are either full, lazy or don’t like crowds.  My feet just look like prunes now.  I want my money back.

  

While getting aquarium pedicures we are constantly approached by beggars.  We’ve been in Cambodia for less than a day and that is one of the glaring changes.  The poverty here is striking.  It is everywhere.  It is hard to tell if it is simply because of the slow travel season or the economy as a whole.  Walking down the street we are bombarded by tauts, tuk-tuk drivers and beggars.  The streets are lined with tuk-tuk drivers waiting to get a fare.  Shop owners are out on the street asking you to come have a look even though you just told the previous ten shop owners no to the same question.  Beggars, often amputees or blind, are everywhere.  They will even come up to us in a restaurant while we are eating.  It is such a huge problem here.  You definitely feel for them, but you can’t help everyone.  You can even respond to everyone. 

We head back to the hotel and turn in early.  We all know tomorrow is going to be a long day on our feet.  Speaking of feet…wow…that fish thing really works.  I can really feel a difference.  Even Patton notices a huge difference.  He should.

Day 20, April 10^th

I’m excited about today.  I have read about and seen pictures of Ankor Wat since I was in Cambodia back in 2002.  I missed Ankor Wat back then and am really looking forward to it this time.

The past and present.

I am up at 5:00am and meeting my tuk-tuk driver at 5:45am.  I’m going to see the sunrise over Ankor Wat.  My tuk-tuk is the only one on the road at this hour.  The city is sound asleep.  I’m a bit shocked by the $20 entrance fee, but I get the ticket and hit the grounds first.  Patton would be proud, if he was awake.  Mom and dad are sound asleep.  They got the morning off.  With my headlamp lighting my way, I head toward the temple.  A Cambodian guy intercepts me and gives me a solid sales pitch.  Said he knows where to go and he has a shop with coffee.  Sounds good.  There is actually a row of shops right by the small pond in front of Ankor Wat.  This also happens to be the place to be to see the sunrise.  I could use a cup of coffee.  His shop is #4, also called GaGa.  #2 is James Bond 007.  #3 is Angelina Jolie.  And #5 is Harry Potter.  If I had known there are choices, I would have chosen #8, Mr. Rambo like any self-respecting man.  But, considering my massage from the Laos boy and sarong ‘shower’ with mom, maybe GaGa is where I belong. 

Sunrise at Ankor Wat.

Within ten minutes the area starts lighting up and people start showing up.  I head to the pond so I can get a good view.  The crowd fills up quickly.  People are jostling and pushing.  There is one particular group of people from one country (not Cambodia) that is acting with a surprising air of entitlement.  There are many different groups of them and they don’t mind pushing you out of the way.  Turns out, their country is a lead investor in the restoration efforts in Ankor Wat and possibly other areas of Cambodia.  They are being very rude right now.  Loud.  Obnoxious.  I don’t think this is what everyone here had in mind when they were imagining a tranquil sunrise view of one of the most amazing temples in the world.

It is pretty overcast and the sun is taking a while to come up.  There it is.  Barely.  Too cloudy.  I’ll wait a bit.  Nope.  I’m out.

Mom and dad inside Ankor Wat.

I leave the pond and head into the temple.  This structure is amazing.  There are obvious repairs and restorations.  Still, you can feel the enormity of this place.  It’s right up there with The Great Wall of China.  The efforts it took to build this and the motivation and inspiration to do it, it’s hard to wrap your head around.  I’m glad it is early.  This place is so huge I can find some quiet moments alone.  I even find a few good sunrise shots.

I head back to the hotel and mom and dad are in the process of getting ready.  We go back down to the hotel restaurant and have breakfast and then I take them out to see all of the temples.  Siem Reap is home to one of the most amazing groupings of temples in the entire world, Ankor Wat being the crown jewel.

Angelina Jolie.

We start at Ankor Wat and work our way to the other big ones.  We finish off at the place where Angelina Jolie shot the movie TOMB RAIDER.  There are giant trees here growing on top of and through the temple structures.  They don’t even look like trees.  In one specific place there is a small Buddha head peaking out between a split in a huge tree trunk.  They call it Angelina Jolie and say it is her face.  It is a good thing someone pointed out something so sacred like this.  It is so small, we wouldn’t have seen it otherwise.

We are all wiped and the day is done.  Back to the hotel, food, shower, masks on and the kids are out.

Surprisingly, I still have energy.  I head out to walk around.  We are in a lively area and this part of the city is still awake.  There is a main road called Pub Street, for obvious reasons.  This street is full of bars and restaurants.  I am shocked at how open the prostitution and drugs are here.  Everywhere you see the western guys with their Khmer ‘girlfriends’.  It is accepted.  Expected.  I can’t walk a few feet without someone offering me.  It is so open that they quote prices.  $20-$25 for a massage with ‘extras’ or $50 for company for the entire night.  If airborne STDs exist, this is where they’d be.  I’m out.  I may take a full body dip in the fish tank on the way back to the hotel so the fish can eat this dirty feeling off of me.

Penicillinly yours,

Murdock

www.kevinarmstrongphotography.com
www.facebook.com/kevinarmstrongphotography

THE GUARANTEE: POINT A TO POINT B

Day 18, April 8^th

Today is going to be tough.  I can feel it.  Travel days are typically tough.  But, today we have a boat, a couple of busses and a border crossing.  It won’t be easy.  All I can guarantee, sorta, is when we go to sleep tonight we will be in Siem Reap Cambodia, I hope.

The first leg: boat to the mainland.

Typical start to the day.  Up early.  Breakfast.  Wait for the first pick up.  We hoof it down to the river and pile into the long boat.  There are five of us at this pick up.  As is to be expected, we dart around the island doing pick ups until the boat is full.  I can’t count how many times we thought the boat was going to tip over with each new pick up.  More people.  More luggage.  Add on top of that we don’t have the most experienced ‘captain.’  He is pretty young.  We finally get back to the mainland and it takes him about 10 minutes just to put the boat up on shore.  He managed to run into a few boats in the process.  Get me off of this thing!!

The 'dock'.

On shore we check in to our transport service and fill in all of our exit papers and prep everything to get our Cambodian visa.  I’ll give Patton some credit here.  He had all of the forms printed, filled in, money paper clipped to the forms, folded, in an envelope, in a plastic bag, sealed and rubber banded.  The only thing that I didn’t like about this process was we had to give our passports to the ‘guide.’  I didn’t have a bad vibe about the guy or the service, I’m just not a fan of relinquishing my passport at any time.  Plus, the guy was going to keep the passports for the duration of the ride and handle the visa processing.  That is a long time to be without my passport.  But, there were about 30 other people doing the same thing.  Oh well.

With paperwork complete, a luxurious open-air tuk-tuk is waiting to carry us down the long dusty road to the main bus.  There’s a nice layer of dirt for you.  As usual, mom is working the tuk-tuk.  She’s unstoppable.

The Laos VIP bus.

Transfer to the main bus.  Settle in for a bit.  We’re at the border in 30 minutes.  Beyond not liking the fact that I didn’t have our passports on me, I felt cheated that we didn’t get to handle the process ourselves.  I wanted to go through the process of customs leaving Laos and immigration coming into Cambodia.  I’ll admit, it was easy, we didn’t have to do anything.  Just sat there as the bus drove across the border and then wait for them to return our passports.

While we waited, a Cambodian official came on the bus.  One by one he would aim a gun looking object at our cheek, click a button and then give us a piece of paper.  We think he was taking our temperature.  I guess that means I have no disease and can come into Cambodia?  The sheet of paper is something I have to hand to my doctor in the states if I get sick.  It explains that I have been to Cambodia and all of the things I have been exposed to.  Maybe this process is helpful, but it was by no means thorough and seemed pointless.

Waiting for the passports.

Once medically cleared, we get off of the bus and buy food and drink and relax until our passports are ready.  Of course, mom has already met several people on the bus.  Two girls approach me and ask, “Are you really teaching your parents how to backpack?  There is no way my parents would even think about doing that. “  I’ve been getting that reaction a lot.  I have yet to hear anyone, before we left or while on the trip, who said their parents would be down with this.  This is definitely a really cool experience.  Speaking of, where are the kids?  Oh great!  Mom is wondering back towards the Laos border and could likely end up back on the other side and create a problem.  A parent’s job is never done.  Must maintain focus and visual contact on the kids at all times.

Visas done.  Back on the bus.  Passports returned.  Half of the people on the bus are going to Siem Reap and the other half are going to Phnom Penh.  We’re going to Siem Reap, which sucks for us because where the road splits, the people going to Siem Reap have to get off and get on a new bus.

As we pull up to the split, I see a small mini-bus.  No way that is our bus.  We bought tickets for the VIP bus.  Yep, that is our bus.  Our VIP bus.  There are seats for 13 people in the bus.  We are cramming 17 people, plus one baby in there.  Plus all of the huge backpacks.  This is hands down the worst leg of all of the travels days thus far.  I get one of the seats that face backwards.  Every piece of the luggage is stuffed between my row of seats and the fronts seat.  So much luggage that my row of seats wont lean back properly.  I’m not even sitting up straight.  I’m leaning forward a little and going backwards.  Six hours like this.  Add on top of that that our ‘guide’ has no place to sit and is standing up next to us and selling us on his tuk-tuk service and hotel.  I don’t know how many times he has given us his pitch.  My legs are going numb and I can’t think straight.  You would think this can’t get worse, but it did.  The lady sitting to my right is holding the baby.  More specifically, she is breastfeeding the baby.  While the baby enjoys his dinner, he reaches back and pulls out my arm hair.  One by one.  Sslloowwllllyy.  I can’t move my arm.  No room.

Who's hungry?

Three hours into this and we pull off at a ‘restaurant.’  They have no lights on, but they were expecting us.  Relatives of the ‘guide’ I’m sure.  It looks sketchy at best.  We have been traveling so long and are so hungry that we have to eat.  That’s their plan.  Oddly, mom and dad order fried rice and it turns out to be the best they have had the entire trip.  Go figure.

Back in the bus.  Three more hours.  The ‘guide’ won’t shut about his hotel.  None of us plan to go there.  Several people have asked how much longer the trip is.  Patton included.  The ‘guide’ shrugs his shoulder, “Don’t know.”  At one point we had to slow down for a police checkpoint.  This bus service doesn’t seem on the up and up.  I think there was a loaded handshake and we slid on through.

I am as miserable as I look.

Towards the end of the six-hour ride we all realized the scam.  Now that we are close, they pulled over for a ‘forest break’ and the guide gets in the front and for the first time they actually drove fast.  They took forever to get us to the bus station so it would be closed.  They couldn’t take us into town because they had filled the bus beyond capacity and would likely have to pay off a cop.  They stop just outside of town where an army of tuk-tuks, friends and relatives, were waiting to take us into town for a small additional fee.  All of the other people in the bus are livid.  It isn’t about the money.  It is about principle, which none of these transport companies seem to have.  Right now, I have a headache, not principle.  I not gonna to argue over a dollar.  We get the first tuk-tuk and off we go.  Straight to our hotel.  We get the last room.  Right about the time we head up to our room, some of the other backpackers show up looking for a room.  Their principle got them a dollar.  My headache got us a room.

Laos is done.  Cambodia begins. 

Principly yours,

The VIP

www.kevinarmstrongphotography.com
www.facebook.com/kevinarmstrongphotography