Travel Day: Kampot - Clown Cars

Plans to catch the connecting bus from Phnom Penh to Kampot fell through (as they have a bad habit of doing lately) as I arrived just in time to see the ticket agent sell off the last seat of the day. Disappointed but still determined to see my journey through, I opted for the next best thing – a share taxi.

Now, a majority of the cars in Cambodia are Toyota Camrys in a wide range of vintages and states of disrepair. Why Camrys, you ask? They are partly subsidized by the Cambodian government (but I’ve heard that Toyota or the Japanese government may be involved as well) so that they’d be more accessible to the general public. The price, I’ve been told, is around $6,000 USD for a new one (in comparison, the base model in the States has an SMRP of $18,270 USD). It’s a bargain, no doubt, but they are still far from affordable for your average Cambodian, whose average monthly salary is purportedly around $25 USD a month.

Of the hoards of Camrys on the roads here, the majority are privately owned share taxis, their sole purpose to maximize profits by cramming in as many passengers as humanly possible. Like most other passenger cars, these little Toyotas are designed to comfortably seat five people including the driver. Two in front, Three in the back. Share taxis cram four in the front and four in the back. Imagine paying to ride in a clown car - that essentially sums up the experience.

You can see a passenger crammed between the door and the driver in this picture (there are also two passengers squished together in the adjacent bucket seat):

I opened my inbox not long after checking into my guesthouse in Kampot to realize that I’d completely forgotten my birthday amidst the confusion. I celebrated with the most expensive meal I’ve had in a couple of weeks – a big plate of spaghetti bolognaise ($2.50). mmm

Battambang

Our first stop on today’s moto ride through Battambang province’s countryside was Kamping Poy, an 8 km long dam commissioned by the Khmer Rouge during the late seventies. It was built entirely by hand and an alleged 10,000 Cambodians fell victim to malnutrition, disease and exhaustion during its construction. Those who opposed the harsh conditions were summarily executed. Though a peaceful spot now, Kamping Poy is still referred to by locals as the “killing dam.”

Villagers living nearby use its terraces to bathe and wash their clothes.

Boating through a field of lotuses (loti?)

Another 10,000 Cambodians died at the “killing caves” of Wat Phnom Sampeau, a Buddhist temple turned Khmer Rouge internment camp. A small fraction of the victims’ remains have been excavated and are now housed in makeshift shrines as morbid reminders of atrocities committed at the hands of the Khmer Rouge during their short lived reign.

According to my guide, prisoners were rarely shot to death. Some, as was pointed out on one of the skulls, had nails driven through the tops of their heads. Others were clubbed to death. Children, labeled enemies of the state along with their parents, were pushed into deep pits. Those who didn’t die from the fall would die of starvation; their broken limbs prevented them from climbing out.

An old artillery turret sits near the hill top temple, trained toward enemies of a bygone era:

We continued the afternoon on a few less sobering attractions.

Wat Ek Phnom temple ruins

James, my moto driver shook a tree full of giant fruit bats so I could take some photos. This was the only one that turned out:

We returned to town on a norry, a crude bamboo train powered by a tractor motor running on the public railway lines. Many Cambodians living beyond Battambang’s city limits rely on the norry service to reach the town center because motorbikes are unaffordable and rural roads leave something to be desired.

I’ve read that the government intends on shutting down the norry service in the near future because of its obvious dangers. I’d imagine a couple of accidents must have involved trains at some point.

In and around Battambang’s town center:

Travel Day: Battambang - The Golden Shower

It was somewhere past Sisophon, on the 7:30 bus to Battambang that the last few sleepless nights finally caught up with me. As I drifted into sleep, a small stream of something warm trickled down my right arm; not enough to jar me from my semi-conscious head bobbing but enough to be noticeable. It was the abrasive back and forth motion of a cloth on my arm that finally stirred me awake.

I opened my eyes to a naked Cambodian baby (which is not that uncommon here) and a very apologetic looking mother (who was busy scrubbing away at my arm). The kid had apparently gone potty in my direction. It’s times like these I’m glad urine is sterile.

Siem Reap: Sunrise, Landmines and Silk

Sore from yesterday’s bike ride (the 40 kilometer round trip wasn’t kind on our backsides), we agreed to upgrade our mountain bikes to cushy electric scooters with wider seats and suspension. We set off from the guest house at quarter to five and sped through the dark road leading north of town to catch sunrise at Angkor Wat. In the end, the event was a bit of a letdown as the whole place was swarmed with busloads of tourists. The walk across the moat , however, made the trip worthwhile despite the crowds.

Coconut courier in Siem Reap:

As we were thoroughly templed out by this point, we backtracked to town to sample some of Siem Reap’s non-Angkor related sights.

Among the Lonely Planet’s recommendations is the landmine museum tucked away in a quiet suburb on the outskirts of town. It's run by a former child soldier of the Khmer Rouge turned anti-landmine advocate.

Landmines still pose a real threat to Cambodians, as millions of them still litter the country, particulary in the region along the Thai border. Almost three decades after Pol Pot was deposed, his "perfect soldiers" are still claiming victims.


Rusting remnants of war housed at the museum include stacks of war scrap and defused UXOs and landmines.

Faded Cambodian safety propaganda posters cover the walls of the exhibit:

I thought this kind of thing was common sense:

The secondary function of the museum is to rehabilitate a number of child landmine victims.

A snap lunchtime decision brought us to Les Chantiers L’ecoles silk farm 16 kilometers out of town. Traveling the distance pushed out scooters’ batteries to their limits and we ended up supplementing power by pedaling along with the motor.

The free tour of the farm afforded us:

A run down on the silk moth’s life cycle:

Hobbes eye view:


A look at the silk spinning/weaving process (which I still don’t really understand):

And an obligatory trip to the gift shop (where I bought another souvenir krama).

I think that Siem Reap has sold its soul during its rapid transition from small village to tourist trap. As Cambodians have been quick to capitalize on the sudden influx of tourist dollars, five star hotels catering to package tourists and a Western style bar street have replaced much of the town’s center.

The promise of tourist dollars has also attracted many less privileged Cambodians. Beggar children and landmine victims relentlessly hound tourists for dollars and many (myself included) have become desensitized quickly. A few of the kids have tried to pick my pocket before running off to the next tourist. I’ve read that many of these child beggars belong to an organized ring and the money doesn't go directly to them - instead, an adult who "owns" them gets it.

Siem Reap: Angkor Wat

Because yesterday's moto driver kept hurrying us along from site to site, we decided it best to rent a pair of mountain bikes so we could take in the temples at our own pace.

Stretching about a kilometer and a half from end to end, Angkor Wat is widely considered the world’s largest religious structure. The temple was built at the apex of Angkorian society and is the de facto symbol of Khmer national pride. Its image can be found on just about everything Cambodian, from its flag to its national beer and cartons of cigarettes.

A pair of old Buddhist nuns loitered around a Vishnu statue near the temple entrance.


I bought a piece of chalk and a sketch pad last night in hopes of making a souvenir temple rubbing but a caretaker stopped me just before I could finish. Apparently, what I was doing is considered illegal. Oops.

Once inside the central structure, we followed a series of bas-reliefs depicting the Mahabharata, a Hindu epic. The convoluted tale was lost on me, though, as I found it difficult keeping track of all the various deities and mythological beasts.

A dried up lotus flower left as an offering on a window sill:



Elephant crossing:

Monkey picnic:

Preah Kahn temple

Siem Reap: Temples D'Angkor

It was some time last September, just before I decided to quit my job, that I spent a week’s worth of lunch hours planning out a two week vacation to the Angkor temples. It didn’t take long to realize that the trip wouldn’t be feasible in such a short period of time, so the following week’s lunch hours were spent formulating an exit plan and a three month itinerary of Southeast Asia (which has expanded since). Before all this, a trip to Angkor was hollow rhetoric. A place I’d tell friends I dreamed of seeing but never actually made any effort to go.

Before heading out to the temples today, we (I buddied up with Ngai, an American Peace Corps volunteer I met on yesterday’s bus) stopped off at Psar Chaa, Siem Reap’s central market, for a quick bite and some souvenir shopping. While navigating the maze of shops, I picked up a handy Krama (the Khmer scarf and a source of national identity) for a couple of bucks. Among its many uses, the Krama can be made into a towel, a dust mask (a must in Cambodia), a blanket (it’s quite large), a bandanna (which, when put on in a certain way, makes the wearer look like a terrorist), a makeshift pair of swim shorts and a pillow. Stylish and functional.

The Angkor temples were commissioned by a series of Khmer God kings (much like the pyramids of the Egyptian Pharaohs) between the ninth and fourteenth centuries as tributes to their respective Hindu and Buddhist deities (and probably epitaphs to their enormous egos). The Angkorian civilization eventually collapsed in the fifteenth century following an invasion by the Siamese. The temples were subsequently left to the elements.

The Southern gate of Angkor Thom served as our first glimpse of the city’s past grandeur. A giant Buddha head looms over the gated entrance.

Bayon - 216 giant stone heads (known as Avalokiteshvara if anybody's interested) pointing in all directions keep a watchful eye on Angkor’s citizens. It is believed that these faces were modeled after King Jayavarman VII, probably to exert his power over his people.



Baphoun

Thanks for the tip:

Terrace of elephants

Terrace of the Leper King

Ta Promh - Overrun with trees, Ta Promh is probably the most atmospheric temple in Angkor.



It’s a shame that pop culture has watered down Ta Promh’s historical significance. The site is now commonly referred to as the place where they shot a scene from the Tomb Raider movie.

The tree from the movie: