King Mekong: Can Tho
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| From [09.01.27] Can Tho |
Another bus ride and we arrived in Can Tho, the largest town in and arguably the heart of the Mekong River Delta, the throbbing soul of commerce and production in the south of Vietnam. Although we arrived relatively early in the day, most restaurants, shops and, well, everything else was still closed for Tet, which we soon learned usually sprawls over a week or two before and beyond the actual holiday. That wasn’t too much of a problem as now it was me that came down with the travel bug. After eating nonstop for two weeks, my appetite ground to a screeching halt. Nevertheless, I did enjoy a nice bowl of pho and a tour of the town’s markets before my bowels got the better of me.
Can Tho is famous for its floating markets, where Mekong maidens and misters churn their paddles and maneuver their rudders into close quarters for fresh fruit, veggies and other foods just as the morning light ignites the heavens. Once again, Tet thwarted our best intentions, as the markets were closed.
Nevertheless, we arranged a five hour tour of the Mekong and her baby canals in the small hours of the day. Our toothless, selfless and grateful guide picked us up at 6AM and showed us to his boat. Rather than calling attention to wear-and-tear, each chip of paint on his boat and wrinkle in his smile attested to his long seated connection to this area, one he was happy to show to us. While the larger, faster tourist boats zoomed by, throwing our tiny vessel into heaves of passionate rolling, we felt more and more happy to be trawling our way down the Mekong and its sideways in the intimacy of a friend of the river.
After watching the sun ascend and squiggling through narrow waterways, we pulled up to a family home/cafe for a breakfast of fresh spring rolls and fruit. Even though I was vomiting in the bathroom — yep, I told you I had “the sickness” — I loved this place. Roosters in the back, children with no pants playing hide-and-go-seek, dogs ready to play fetch, fruit trees, giant beetles, friendly, loving people … it was perfect.
We hopped back on the boat for the return trip and even had to, sadly, turn down a lovely invite by another family to have tea with them. Another insight into how I like to travel and a plea to others traveling: Please take time to enjoy the places off the tourist map, the people not in the guidebook. Everyone we met that was “off the grid” was so eager to talk to us, especially to have us speak with their children learning English that don’t have many opportunities to speak to foreigners. I wish we had even more time to do so. The more different people interact, the more understanding there is in this world. And that people want to encourage this in their children makes me so very happy.
Oh, and I got over the sickness by the next day. On to the Ho, yo!
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| [09.01.27] Can Tho |
Tet for Tat: Ha Tien
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| From [09.01.26] Ha Tien Tet |
That mythical yet so knowledgeable “they” say that travel is all about the surprises that make a trip memorable. Well, we were very surprised when we end up in a town that we had no plan to visit, and had not even decided to go to ourselves.
We hired a rather expensive taxi in Sihanoukville to take us to the border crossing into Vietnam near Chau Doc, a town on the Mekong River. However, due either to a misunderstanding — what I want to chalk it up to — or a scam — what Sean wants to believe — we were taken to the border crossing further south where tourists from Sihanoukville usually go, near Ha Tien. Since our driver didn’t speak a lick of English, we had a major impasse about where we were and got out of our cab. We really didn’t even understand what was going on until we had already departed Cambodia and were standing on the road between Cambodia’s border control and Vietnam’s. Only then did we realize what had happened. Rather than getting angry, we decided to make the most of it and enjoy spending the Tet (lunar new year) holiday in Ha Tien.
We’ve never done a land border crossing before, let alone one where we literally walked from one checkpoint to the next, but it was super easy. The only diversion was a comically crooked Vietnamese border agent that after exclaiming “HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU!” followed up with “New Year’s present?” with a big grin. We couldn’t help but laugh, though I balked at the $4 he initially asked for and hit him up with $2 instead (we probably could have gone even lower, but I was still laughing).
Ha Tien itself is a small sleepy town that is usually used as the gateway to beaches further southeast. After checking into our hotel, a riot of music exploded right outside. I rushed to see what was going on, and a band of kids dressed in yellow and red were banging drums and cymbals in celebration of the new year. I could tell something was going on downstairs in the lobby, and when I emerged from the stairway, I was greeted with a full on Tet festival dragon dance. During Tet, troupes of children travel around towns putting on these mini-plays which culminate in a “hong bao” in Chinese (red envelope in English) being dropped into the mouth of the giant puppet. Hong bao’s contain money for the children and are traditionally given by older people to children on Tet. The spectacle was intimate and exhilarating.
We dined on Pho and stopped for coffee along the river, then took to the town for some wandering. At every turn, we were greeted with shouts of “hello!” or “happy new year!” from children and adults alike. Everyone wanted to wave or say hi to us in this town that sees fewer Westerners than other Vietnamese towns. It was a lovely diversion and we felt so welcome. We wandered up to the town cemetery, where townspeople thronged to pay their respects. Tet marks a time of coming home for family members and remembering ancestors. We grabbed some pho and BBQ by the river with the rest of the locals for dinner, watching the motos glide by as we ate and relaxed.
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| [09.01.26] Ha Tien Tet |
See You in Sihanoukville
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| From [09.01.23] Sihanoukville |
Time to hit the beach! In Cambodia, that means Sihanoukville. Taking its name from Cambodia’s liberator and beloved on-again-off-again king, Sihanoukville is a small stretch of coastline that remained unpopulated until the late 1950s. When Indochina (Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia) was split up, control of the Mekong Delta and its lucrative and strategic routes to the sea fell to Vietnam. The Cambodia government turned to Sihanoukville to carve out a new port, instantly turning the area into a center of commerce and, eventually, seaside frolicking.
Currently, the town is Cambodia’s answer to the indulgent beaches of Thailand … or rather, is trying to be so. The tourist infrastructure still has a bit of a ways to go and there’s plenty of construction to echo this sentiment. Nevertheless, the beaches have a much more small town feel, and definitely warrants spending a couple of nights there.
The only problem is that we showed up on a weekend, and the first one of the lunar new year holiday at that. While Cambodia celebrates this festival less than Vietnam and China, it’s still a big deal, and many expats and wealthy Khmers take advantage of the long weekend to jet down to the beach. Therefore, all the hotels were either booked or jacked up their rates. We spent the first night at the lovely Sea View Villas but had to switch the next two nights to Cloud 9, a good second choice but more expensive and without a/c (which is rather necessary given the heat and humidity).
Sihanoukville sports about 5 beaches, 4 of which are completely open to the public (the fifth is owned by a fancypants hotel). We spent the first day and night being rather lowkey as Sean wasn’t feeling too hot, but the next day we rented a moto to jet around the coast. Our favorite beach by far was Otres beach. Set farther east than the other beaches and devoid of the bustle associated with hotels and backpacker’s joints, Otres beach oozes chill. Sean even tried his hand — and his balance — at windsurfing. All that windsurfing — well, for me, sunbathing and reading — worked up an appetite, and we “splurged” on the $3 giant beachside BBQs, complete with $0.75 beers. I tried barracuda, and I’m happy to report that it doesn’t bite back.
The following day, we hopped on an all day boat tour of the neighboring islands. While the snorkeling wasn’t very good, the islands themselves provided a pristine backdrop against which to catch some rays. While all of the islands have been sold for development, the cranes and concrete has not yet come, and the lush green stillness beckons. Needing a break from Cambodian cuisine, we popped into Happy Herb pizza. Yes and no to what you are thinking. Apparently, “back in the day,” diners could choose to indulge in a certain “happy” pizza topping. These days, the government is cracking down such shady offerings. We stuck to the sun-dried tomato and pepperoni varieties, and just eating cheese made us happy enough.
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| [09.01.23] Sihanoukville |
Riverside Drive: Kampot and Kep
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| From [09.01.22] Kampot & Kep |
Kampot, the capital of Kampot province along Cambodia’s southeastern coast, is a sleepy riverside town comprised of colonial architecture elegant in its crumbling condition. Wandering the tree-shaded streets of this small town, we were struck by the quiet, the friendly passing smiles. There were no beggars here, no children hawking postcards, no touts. Fewer foreigners stop at Kampot than its flashier neighbor, beach town Sihanoukville, and therefore a relaxing air of calm permeates.
We ate breakfast at the Epic Arts Café. The organization encourages artistic expression in deaf and disabled people in order to boost self-esteem. It also seeks to help disabled people fully integrate into society. All of the workers at the café are either deaf or have some other sort of disability; the restaurant also serves as a place for Kampot’s disabled to hang out. We dined with a very sweet Kampot resident with Down ’s syndrome who had a ball snapping pictures with my digital camera.
After breakfast, we decided to do as the locals do and get on a motorbike to explore the town and beyond. Motos are the primary means of transport for most Cambodians. Smaller than real motorcycles, the motos are nevertheless powerful enough for minor distance travel (although you butt won’t thank you). We used the bike to explore the farms around the town, travel out to a chill-out spot called Bodhi Villa and run around the town.
The best part of our day was our ride out to Kep. During the French colonial rule, Kep was the place to summer for the hoi polloi. Elegant mansions lined hills away from the coast. After the French departed, the Khmers took over, making this their own little gold coast. However, when the Khmer Rouge came to power and swept into the area, they destroyed everything in sight, leaving a creepy ghost town haunted by the echoes of former glory. Today, the overgrown, broken down shells of the mansions are beautiful in their despair.
But blight aside, the best part of Kep is the crabs. As we pulled up, krahma-clad women were pulling from the sea giant traps teeming with bright blue crabs. Other women were throwing these crabs into giant vats right on the beach. We opted for a small restaurant where we ordered pepper crab. Kampot is famous for its amazing pepper, and coupled with Kep’s crabs, it’s dynamite. I don’t usually like crab, but the spicy, sweet, super-fresh crab was the most amazing thing I have eaten yet on this trip.
The local children shouted helloes and waved to us all the way back to Kampot, and we took in the sunset over the river.
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| [09.01.22] Kampot & Kep |
Cow Tipping, Inadvertently
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| From [09.01.20] Siem Reap Le Meridien Pool and Kampot Bus Ride |
We thought that by buying bus tickets straight through to Kampot, a small riverside town on the southern coast, we’d avoid the longer bus ride all the way to Sihanoukville. We thought there would be less hassle. We thought wrong.
The first snag came when our bus hit a cow. Yes, we hit a cow. The driver refused to swerve or slow and instead entered into a game of chicken in which we both lost. Luckily, the cow stumbled to its feet and ran away. The irresponsibility of the bus driver astounds and angers me, as that cow is worth so much to a rural family, and if the cow is lame, that investment evaporates.
The bus suffered only a few cracks to its fender. Nevertheless, we stopped for nearly an hour while a crew of people dismantled the front of the bus and tried to glue the cracks back together. The bus driver will probably get in a world of trouble for damaging the bus. I really don’t have much sympathy as the accident could have been avoided (the cow was sitting in the road the entire time, so it’s not like it came out of nowhere).
Back on the road, we finally made it to Phnom Penh and onto another bus that expected would be bound straight for Kampot, a two-hour drive from the capital. What our ticket purveyor failed to mention was that this was the long bus that drove all the way through Kep, a seaside town, on the way to Kampot, brining the trip up to nearly six hours! The bus was old and dirty, with broken seats and curtains creaking as the bus bounced along. We hadn’t eaten all day and the bus made innumerable stops for odd errands initiated by the staff. We didn’t pull into Kampot until a full 12 hours later, cranky and miserable. I will never complain about the bus ride to Boston again.
Angkor Wat A Sight to Behold: Angkor Wat, Ankor Thom, Ta Promh, Preah Khan and Preah Neak Prean
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| From [09.01.19] Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom, Baray, Preah Khan and Preah Neak Prean |
Having whet our appetite for ancient temples the previous day, we geared up for an early rise – 4:30AM – in order to take in the sunrise over Angkor Wat. Shivering as our tuk tuk zoomed the deserted Siem Reap streets in the dark, we arrived at Angkor well before daylight’s appearance, following the bobbing flickers set forth from other tourists’ flashlights. Luckily, a ¾ moon cast a decent glow over the grounds and we didn’t lose our footing despite the lack of light.
As the sky’s shade of blue gradually became lighter, the towers of Angkor Wat – the granddaddy of all the Angkorian temples – came into view. Despite hordes of people, the effect was quite peaceful. Most of the Angkorian temples were built by a single king, Jayavaraman VII, including Angkor Wat. The temple, including a giant moat, a huge avenue-esque platform approaching it and the main structures of the temple itself, is considered by many the largest religious structure in the world. Around the temple are a series of bas-reliefs telling of Hindu stories. We spent 3 hours exploring the temple and were happy most of the crowds were kept at bay during the early hours.
Next up was the massive area of Angkor Thom. Rather than a single temple like Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom was the site of a city, and includes temples, an area for mass audiences, the king’s palace and even a place where circuses were held. I had been dying to do an elephant ride, and this was the place to do it – though it coast a whopping $15 per person, more than we had spent on any hotel stay. The elephant rode us from the gates of Angkor Thom to the Bayon, the most famous temple in the area. Jayavaraman built the Bayon as a cheekily self-referential temple. All around the temple, larges faces cast their gaze upon you, each beguiling smile just a little bit different from the next. Although these faces were supposed to represent a god, they (surprise, surprise) look much like Jayavaraman himself. The asymmetry produces by stones shifting over the ages produces a wonderful effect. Before lunch, we also took in Ta Promh, which is similar to Beng Melea in that it is overgrown by the jungle but is much less spectacular in its wild abandon.
After a quick Khmer lunch, we checked out two more temples – Preah Khan and Preah Neak Prean – but quickly tired. It was at this point that I realized that in the last eight months, I have visited a record number of the world’s most important ruins in Athens, Rome, Ephesus, Jerusalem, Galilee and now Angkor. I am effectively RUINED.
And so was Sean. So, we decided to scrap the third day of our three-day temple pass and instead pay $10 for a day poolside at the Le Meridien, including free access to their steam room and sauna. That’s one thing of which I’ll never tire.
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| [09.01.19] Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom, Baray, Preah Khan and Preah Neak Prean |
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| [09.01.20] Siem Reap Le Meridien Pool and Kampot Bus Ride |
Seeing Siem Reap: Beng Melea, Banteay Srei and Kbal Spean
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| From [09.01.18] Siem Reap, Beng Melea, Kabl Spean & Banteay Srei |
After our rather sobering morning at the Killing Fields and S21, we boarded a nice minibus — named van of the year in 2007! — to Siem Reap. Siem Reap — meaning “Siam Defeated” — has become the boomtown of Angkor fever, as all of the major Angkor temples are within easy reach. Yes, All the temples of Angkor. Angkor isn’t just Angkor Wat.
In fact, it’s so many more awesome temples than Angkor Wat that we didn’t even begin with that big bad boy of religiosity. Instead, we opted to explore some of the temples further afield: Banteay Srei, Kbal Spean and Beng Melea.
We slept in and hired a car for our journey. It turned out to be a minivan, and we couldn’t help feeling a built guilty for using all that gas and room on just the two of us. But our driver was very friendly and pointed out a number of interesting points along the way. He also explained that his family lived far from Siem Reap and sometimes he stayed overnight in the city when he was out late with fares. Such is the way of life for many Cambodians.
We started at Banteay Srei, and intricatedly carved pink-tinged temple dedicated to women, and even rumored to have been crafted by a woman’s hand. Next up was the river carvings int he jungle of Kbal Spean. And then came the pinnacle of our journey: Beng Melea. Two hours away from Siem Reap, the temples sees few visitors — due also tot eh cost to get out there — and we were able to explore the surroundings in relative exclusivity. Our tour guide was a member of the Aspara Authority, the organization in charge of preserving the temples. His knowledge was indispensable as he led us into darked corners and over tumbled rocks, each with a different story. Once again, the Khmer Rouge reared its ugly head as we were told of how they destroyed this temple, jumbling her structure and removing the faces of statues.
Speaking of the KR, we witnessed our first confirmed glimpse of the destruction of a landmine. The US, the Vietnamese and the Khmer Rouge all decided that laying landmines was a good way to stop opposition, without the foresight that landmines leave a legacy of war well into peacetime. Much of Cambodia is still littered with mines, and a jaw-dropping 1 in 240 people in Cambodia are amputees, thanks in large part to these vicious weapons that are not meant to kill but only to maim. You still can’t stray off marked paths in the country without worrying about mines, which sometimes don’t even reveal themselves until wet season. Our guide showed us the crater of a mine that blew off a man’s legs and told us how to spot a mine (though, no worries, we don’t go anywhere unmarked). The number of maimed beggars in Cambodia is staggering, and it’s so sad this is still such a reality ten years after war ended.
We ended the day with a nice dinner at the Khmer Kitchen, reflecting on all we had just seen.
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| [09.01.18] Siem Reap, Beng Melea, Kabl Spean & Banteay Srei |
Somber Phnom: The Killing Fields and Tuol Sleng Prison
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| From [09.01.17] Phnom Penh Day 2 |
I know; it’s not pleasant. But far from pleasant — and much more in the realm of horrendous — was the regime of Pol Pot, the leader of the Khmer Rouge, Cambodian’s Maoist zealot.
A brief history: Cambodia was first populated by the Indians. As time progressed, the Angkor peoples rose to power, eventually creating the awe-inspiring temples upon which our feet tread over the past few days. But power struggles with the Thais and the Vietnamese squeezed the Khmer empire, and eventually, in the early 1900s, it fell to the French, a culture gluttonously devouring SE Asia as if it were its just-desserts. When King Sihanouk — a young king — came to power in the 1950s, the game changed and colonialism was O.U.T. OUT! Sihanouk resigned the throne to be the people’s leader. However, when the rightists got pissed off, they pushed into power. Around this time, the educated, French-school failure Pol Pot (name assumed) spearheaded the Khmer Rouge, which wages war against the current regime. During this time, with the Vietnamese war raging and Vietnamese seeking shelter — illegally — in Cambodia — the US covertly started a bombing campaign against the country, pushing the warfront into the otherwise self-contained country. When the covert operation finally came into the public sphere, the nation was outraged and called for an end to the violence. The day before operations were to cease, Nixon OKed a final bombing before pulling out, devastating the country. Whatever your politics, many, many innocent people lost their lives and livelihoods because of this shadiness of the US.
When the US pulled out — including evacuating all the US embassy staff and most US citizens — the country fell to the Khmer Rouge, which at first promised peace and prosperity. Instead, within days of the Khmer Rouge taking over the capital, the entire population was rounded up, divided into two classes — the rural, or “acceptable” people, and the city, or “bad” people — and marched into the countryside. The regime declared it “Year Zero” and pledged to destroy all culture that came before. People were systematically thrown into prisons because they spoke other languages or had a skill, like medicine or teaching. These people were then driven to “killing fields” where they were murdered. Because the regime was short on ammunition, they used hoes, shovels and bricks instead of bullets to brutalize and kill victims. The majority of people taking part in these killings were young people, torn from their families and told they had no families except the Khmer Rouge.
Our pictures document our tours of the Killing Fields monument and the prison called S21, a former high school — as you can see by the blackboard — where brutal pictures document all the people tortured and killed. Few foreigners understand that the civil war continued well beyond the fall of Pol Pot, until 1008. However, every single people our age or older that we have met has a story about the Khmer Rouge. To see the kindness and the generosity of the Cambodian people now and to hear their stories of the terror they endured because of something so beyond their immediate control is amazing, heartbreaking and forever moving.
All these people want is to be heard. The country is still figuring out how to deal with and prosecute the Khmer Rouge; Pol Pot died in exile in Thailand before he could be tried. They are so happy to speak with foreigners, to tell their story and to see the world that they may not yet be able to afford to see. Every day, it gets easier to come here and is so much safer than years ago. Please consider it.
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| [09.01.17] Phnom Penh Day 2 |
Phnom Penh Pal
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| From [09.01.16] Phnomn Penh Day 1 |
Three days to pack, get two apps out on Sean’s part, and close up shop in Beijing. *POOF* We’re in warm weather heaven, also known as Cambodia. On the plane ride out, we met a very nice guy named Michael who teaches English at our school. Gotta love those happy coincidences.
We arrived in Phnom Penh to a bustling city which vaguely reminded me of my first visit to Hanoi, except much smaller. But, oh my god, do I LOVE that SE Asia cooking. Lemon grass, ginger, jasmine, lime … the taste buds were invented precisely to savor these tastes. The first night, we indulged in a new flavor of the Cambodia eggplant before turning in.
The next day, we wandered the city, including to the crown jewels of Phnom Penh’s tourist scene: the silver pagoda and the royal palace. The religious side is much more conservative here; I was turned away for using a shawl to drape my shoulders. You need an actual shirt to cover you. Luckily, I had my sweater with me and we could indulge in the opulence of Cambodian art and culture. We capped the day with a meal in true Cambodian style: peppered beef and sugared fish. Divine.
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| [09.01.16] Phnomn Penh Day 1 |
Lions and Tigers and Ligers, OH MY!
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| From [08.01.11] Harbin City & Siberian Tiger Park |
After enduring the brutal brrrrr for two days, we were ready for some action. And in Harbin, that means the Siberian tiger park. After a lunch of deliciously delicate jiaozi (dumplings), we road over to the largest Siberian tiger preserve in China. Because of hunting and human encroachment, there are only about 30 of these majestic creatures left in the wilds of China. This preserve claims to house about 500. While we think these numbers were high, we were surprised to see how much free range the tigers have; it’s definitely not a zoo.
One of the way the park maintains itself — for better or for worse — is by selling live animal to visitors which are then fed to the tigers so that you can see them eating “in the raw.” While we toyed with buying a sheep or even a cow (a whopping $200), we opted for the much more palatable chickens (and a pheasant, because we’re refined like that).
I don’t care what PETA says: seeing a tiger devour a chicken is totally bad ass. The only creepy factore of the park was the number of African cats — lions, panthers, cheetahs — they housed in the cold. I can’t imagine it’s that comfortable for them. Regardless, it was one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. And they had ligers. LIGERS! That’s a lion and tiger mixed. Napolean Dynamite, eat your heart out.
Check out my videos here:
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-7091251645774968098&hl=en
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=8745017756544343322&hl=en
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| [08.01.11] Harbin City & Siberian Tiger Park |
About Me
After years of “playing it safe,” “doing what’s right” and “towing the line,” my toe is tickling the cusp of a new life full of travel, creativity, self-discovery and education both formal and informal. These musings chronicle my search for the extraordinary, in places both big and small, far and near. I nabbed a one way ticket to adventure and I can’t wait to use it.
A bit more about me …
Born and raised near Boston in Quincy, MA, I discovered the world beyond America’s East Coast when I first traveled to Europe in 2000. Bitten by that most delightfully infectious creature, the travel bug, I soon found myself climbing Mt. Fuji in Japan, watching the shadows tilt on Machu Picchu in Peru, deftly avoiding weaving motos in Hanoi, diving in the milky waters of Iceland’s hot springs, bargaining in Istanbul’s main bazaar, snorkeling in the seas off Thailand, and much more. I co-authored Let’s Go: Washington D.C. (2000 edition) and Let’s Go: Barcelona (2003 edition), and enjoy writing, singing, electronic music, tap dancing, storytelling and finding crazy adventures around every turn.
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