Friday, December 19, 2008
Homeward Bound
I'm off to the U.S. for a few weeks of vacation and time with family and friends tomorrow, so you'll have to wait a little while longer for another post. My apologies! Happy holidays and happy New Year to all!
Farewell from His Excellency
At about 10:00pm last night, Shanti and I headed downstairs with her bags as she got ready to leave for the airport and a two week trip to the U.S. Downstairs, chatting away on his cell phone was His Excellency. We waved to His Excellency and carried Shanti's bags out to the waiting car. As we were loading it up, His Excellency came out into the middle of the street to give Shanti an excessively long hug.
We walked back over to the car to finish loading it and explained to His Excellency that Shanti was leaving for the U.S. and would be gone for two weeks. When he learned that I was not leaving until the following night - and that we would be on opposite coasts for our trip - he put his arms around both of us, pushed us towards one another and, in accented English, said only "kiss, kiss." Trying to stifle our laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, I managed to give Shanti a kiss on her forehead much to the pleasure of His Excellency. We are eagerly looking forward to our next adventure with His Excellency, which may in fact be a long-anticipated karaoke gathering upon our return.
We walked back over to the car to finish loading it and explained to His Excellency that Shanti was leaving for the U.S. and would be gone for two weeks. When he learned that I was not leaving until the following night - and that we would be on opposite coasts for our trip - he put his arms around both of us, pushed us towards one another and, in accented English, said only "kiss, kiss." Trying to stifle our laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, I managed to give Shanti a kiss on her forehead much to the pleasure of His Excellency. We are eagerly looking forward to our next adventure with His Excellency, which may in fact be a long-anticipated karaoke gathering upon our return.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Madame Cindy's
It had been a while since I've done something unusual in Phnom Penh, so a few Saturday's ago, Shanti and I joined a number of friends on a little adventure. We went to Madame Cindy's, a gay friendly bar that features a drag show on Saturday nights. While Thailand has a large, thriving, and openly gay community, homosexuality is still taboo in Cambodia, so I was a little surprised that such a thing even existed.
I'd been to a few drag shows in Boston - one of straight dancing and singing and the other a drag musical - and I've spent a bit of time in Provincetown, so I had an idea of what to expect. The bar was pretty chic, with a handful of tables, some on the ground in the traditional Khmer style, and a small bar next to a stage with glittery curtains. The drinks were ridiculously expensive for Cambodia - $3 for a soda - but since there was no cover charge, I felt obligated to get something.
The bar slowly filled in with a mix of young Khmers and a few older expats. Then Madame Cindy showed up, a tall, incredibly slender Khmer man with a tattoo on his left arm and wearing a white dress with black polka dots, high heels, and long, elegant black gloves. He (she?) posed for a few pictures with admirers and then went backstage to help the other performers prepare.
The show was short - thirty minutes - and, well, lackluster. About ten Khmer men in drag performed half a dozen songs. For all but one of the songs, there was no dancing! I was shocked! And this was particularly disappointing as there was no actual singing! And, no offense to the performers, but the lip-syncing was terrible! I can understand that there is a language barrier and not all of the performers can speak English, they could at least mask their language skills with some dancing.
The highlight of the performance was most certainly the outfits. With garments Cambodia's main export, buying fabric and getting clothes custom-made for next to no cost. As a result, most of the skirts, dresses, and blouses that the performers wore were quite beautiful. There was one exception - an absolutely dreadful performance by a guy wearing a ridiculously leopard-print outfit and, for some inexplicable reason, was outfitted in blackface.
All criticisms aside, it was good to look around the room and to see all of the young (probably gay?) Khmer teenagers and twenty-somethings. They were probably not out of the closet to their families, but with Madame Cindy's they have a safe place to meet other people like them and an outlet for discussing the issues they face. It was fun, but I would probably suggest waiting a few years for the show to improve before going yourself
I'd been to a few drag shows in Boston - one of straight dancing and singing and the other a drag musical - and I've spent a bit of time in Provincetown, so I had an idea of what to expect. The bar was pretty chic, with a handful of tables, some on the ground in the traditional Khmer style, and a small bar next to a stage with glittery curtains. The drinks were ridiculously expensive for Cambodia - $3 for a soda - but since there was no cover charge, I felt obligated to get something.
The bar slowly filled in with a mix of young Khmers and a few older expats. Then Madame Cindy showed up, a tall, incredibly slender Khmer man with a tattoo on his left arm and wearing a white dress with black polka dots, high heels, and long, elegant black gloves. He (she?) posed for a few pictures with admirers and then went backstage to help the other performers prepare.
The show was short - thirty minutes - and, well, lackluster. About ten Khmer men in drag performed half a dozen songs. For all but one of the songs, there was no dancing! I was shocked! And this was particularly disappointing as there was no actual singing! And, no offense to the performers, but the lip-syncing was terrible! I can understand that there is a language barrier and not all of the performers can speak English, they could at least mask their language skills with some dancing.
The highlight of the performance was most certainly the outfits. With garments Cambodia's main export, buying fabric and getting clothes custom-made for next to no cost. As a result, most of the skirts, dresses, and blouses that the performers wore were quite beautiful. There was one exception - an absolutely dreadful performance by a guy wearing a ridiculously leopard-print outfit and, for some inexplicable reason, was outfitted in blackface.
All criticisms aside, it was good to look around the room and to see all of the young (probably gay?) Khmer teenagers and twenty-somethings. They were probably not out of the closet to their families, but with Madame Cindy's they have a safe place to meet other people like them and an outlet for discussing the issues they face. It was fun, but I would probably suggest waiting a few years for the show to improve before going yourself
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Vietnam, Sort Of: Part II
With our short, scattered time in Saigon over, we set off for the airport to go to Phu Quoc. It was the quietest, least bustling airport I've ever been to. It was remarkably stress free; there were no long lines, no one was in a hurry, and we were easily able to get on an earlier flight. It was a short forty-five minute flight to Phu Quoc and a very enjoyable one at that.
Flying over the Mekong Delta was incredibly impressive, especially at the end of the rainy season; all of the land was covered with a thin layer of water. There were no roads as far as the eye could see and the only huts lined banks of small rivers. Clearly the only way to get from one place to another was by boat. The other thing that made the flight enjoyable (and that makes every flight in Asia enjoyable) is that despite the flight's incredibly short duration, the flight attendants managed to serve everyone a drink. American-based airlines could really take a lesson from those operating out of Asia.
We arrived in Phu Quoc, grabbed our stuff and were met by a throng of taxis, each of which wanted nearly $10 to drive us to the destination of our choice. Having consulted the trusty Lonely Planet, we knew that town was a short 200 meter walk away and that the resorts began shortly after that. So we hoofed it. Motos and taxis tried to pick us up (for even more inflated fares), but we shook them off more as a matter of principle than anything else.
We passed through Duong Dong, the main town on Phu Quoc and still the hotels and guesthouses were not in sight. By the time that we had been walking for about an hour, we had only passed the first few hotels, each of which were more expensive than we wanted. Shanti and I convinced her parents, who were now carting wheelies over dirt road, that we would go ahead, find a place to stay, and pick them up. The two of us stopped in about five hotels and resorts with little luck. We wandered into a new and air-conditioned travel agent's office and the friendly young woman began calling around.
Forty-five minutes later we were picked up by a van from Kim Hoa Resort. We picked up Shanti's parents and made our way to the hotel which was still a few kilometers further down the road than we had made it. Thanks Lonely Planet! The resort itself looked pretty nice, but the driveway and beach were all lined with somewhat bizarre over-sized plaster sea-faring animals, like crabs, lobsters, fish, and mermaids. It was certainly a sight to be seen.
Eager to finally hit the beach, we dropped our stuff off and grabbed a quick lunch at the restaurant. We then spent the afternoon relaxing on the beach. We were on the southern end of Long Beach, which was less crowded than other stretches, though nothing was very crowded. The water was quite nice and I've always loved when there's a gentle slope out to sea and, as you move forward, you can feel the ridges of sand formed by the waves. So it was a well-spent afternoon of reading, swimming, and napping.
As the afternoon turned into evening, the sun turned a bright red color and the sky followed suit, with reds, yellows, oranges, and blues creating a truly breathtaking sight. The photographer in me had to leave the dice game we were playing every few minutes to snap another picture. With the sun down, we grabbed dinner at the hotel, a little over-priced but the grilled prawns in tamarind sauce were particularly delicious. Before going to bed, we booked a combination snorkeling, fishing trip for the next day.
The following morning we were picked up by a van filled with about ten other tourists and made the drive down to the southern tip of Phu Quoc, the fishing village of An Thoi. The drive was beautiful, following Long Beach south for several kilometers, with occasional fishing huts dotting the landscape. The An Thoi port was crowded with wooden fishing boats, some outfitted with huge sets of bright lights, presumably for squid fishing.
We had an extremely slow boat ride out to some of the more distant An Thoi islands. Several of the islands had sizable fishing villages located on the coast, but the rest of the island looked fairly uninhabitable. We finally made it out to the fishing grounds and spent about an hour fishing with just a line wrapped around some plastic. Somehow, the captain was catching fish left and right, but no one else was catching anything. By the time we finished, Shanti's dad and I managed to catch one small fish each.
We then gave snorkeling a try, but the water was not all that clear and the tide was strong. The snorkeling was a bit better at the second stop, but it didn't compare to Pulau Perhentian, where I had been just six weeks earlier. We had fresh fish on board for lunch and we all got to try freshly caught sea urchin: a bit salty, but not bad with a squeeze of lime. After lunch we headed back to shore and took the van to Sao Beach, a gorgeous beach, with the finest, whitest sand I've ever seen. We spent a little time relaxing and swimming there before heading back to Kim Hoa for sunset, which was almost as beautiful as the night before.
On our last day on Phu Quoc, we did some more relaxing, reading, and swimming. Shanti, her mom, and I took a long walk down the beach around lunch time to look for a place to satisfy Shanti's Italian food craving. We managed to find a place with very good food, but, as one might expect, the Italian was a bit subpar. More relaxing in the afternoon and another game of dice as we were lucky enough to have a third gorgeous sunset. Expanding our horizons from the Kim Hoa restaurant a bit, we wandered down the beach to grab another delicious dinner.
We left early the next morning for the airport to catch our flights back to Saigon and then, for me and Shanti to Phnom Penh. On the whole, the trip was very relaxing - which I certainly needed some of - but I don't think I got quite as much of a cultural taste of Vietnam as I was hoping for. All the more reason for a return trip!
Flying over the Mekong Delta was incredibly impressive, especially at the end of the rainy season; all of the land was covered with a thin layer of water. There were no roads as far as the eye could see and the only huts lined banks of small rivers. Clearly the only way to get from one place to another was by boat. The other thing that made the flight enjoyable (and that makes every flight in Asia enjoyable) is that despite the flight's incredibly short duration, the flight attendants managed to serve everyone a drink. American-based airlines could really take a lesson from those operating out of Asia.
We arrived in Phu Quoc, grabbed our stuff and were met by a throng of taxis, each of which wanted nearly $10 to drive us to the destination of our choice. Having consulted the trusty Lonely Planet, we knew that town was a short 200 meter walk away and that the resorts began shortly after that. So we hoofed it. Motos and taxis tried to pick us up (for even more inflated fares), but we shook them off more as a matter of principle than anything else.
We passed through Duong Dong, the main town on Phu Quoc and still the hotels and guesthouses were not in sight. By the time that we had been walking for about an hour, we had only passed the first few hotels, each of which were more expensive than we wanted. Shanti and I convinced her parents, who were now carting wheelies over dirt road, that we would go ahead, find a place to stay, and pick them up. The two of us stopped in about five hotels and resorts with little luck. We wandered into a new and air-conditioned travel agent's office and the friendly young woman began calling around.
Forty-five minutes later we were picked up by a van from Kim Hoa Resort. We picked up Shanti's parents and made our way to the hotel which was still a few kilometers further down the road than we had made it. Thanks Lonely Planet! The resort itself looked pretty nice, but the driveway and beach were all lined with somewhat bizarre over-sized plaster sea-faring animals, like crabs, lobsters, fish, and mermaids. It was certainly a sight to be seen.
Eager to finally hit the beach, we dropped our stuff off and grabbed a quick lunch at the restaurant. We then spent the afternoon relaxing on the beach. We were on the southern end of Long Beach, which was less crowded than other stretches, though nothing was very crowded. The water was quite nice and I've always loved when there's a gentle slope out to sea and, as you move forward, you can feel the ridges of sand formed by the waves. So it was a well-spent afternoon of reading, swimming, and napping.
As the afternoon turned into evening, the sun turned a bright red color and the sky followed suit, with reds, yellows, oranges, and blues creating a truly breathtaking sight. The photographer in me had to leave the dice game we were playing every few minutes to snap another picture. With the sun down, we grabbed dinner at the hotel, a little over-priced but the grilled prawns in tamarind sauce were particularly delicious. Before going to bed, we booked a combination snorkeling, fishing trip for the next day.
The following morning we were picked up by a van filled with about ten other tourists and made the drive down to the southern tip of Phu Quoc, the fishing village of An Thoi. The drive was beautiful, following Long Beach south for several kilometers, with occasional fishing huts dotting the landscape. The An Thoi port was crowded with wooden fishing boats, some outfitted with huge sets of bright lights, presumably for squid fishing.
We had an extremely slow boat ride out to some of the more distant An Thoi islands. Several of the islands had sizable fishing villages located on the coast, but the rest of the island looked fairly uninhabitable. We finally made it out to the fishing grounds and spent about an hour fishing with just a line wrapped around some plastic. Somehow, the captain was catching fish left and right, but no one else was catching anything. By the time we finished, Shanti's dad and I managed to catch one small fish each.
We then gave snorkeling a try, but the water was not all that clear and the tide was strong. The snorkeling was a bit better at the second stop, but it didn't compare to Pulau Perhentian, where I had been just six weeks earlier. We had fresh fish on board for lunch and we all got to try freshly caught sea urchin: a bit salty, but not bad with a squeeze of lime. After lunch we headed back to shore and took the van to Sao Beach, a gorgeous beach, with the finest, whitest sand I've ever seen. We spent a little time relaxing and swimming there before heading back to Kim Hoa for sunset, which was almost as beautiful as the night before.
On our last day on Phu Quoc, we did some more relaxing, reading, and swimming. Shanti, her mom, and I took a long walk down the beach around lunch time to look for a place to satisfy Shanti's Italian food craving. We managed to find a place with very good food, but, as one might expect, the Italian was a bit subpar. More relaxing in the afternoon and another game of dice as we were lucky enough to have a third gorgeous sunset. Expanding our horizons from the Kim Hoa restaurant a bit, we wandered down the beach to grab another delicious dinner.
We left early the next morning for the airport to catch our flights back to Saigon and then, for me and Shanti to Phnom Penh. On the whole, the trip was very relaxing - which I certainly needed some of - but I don't think I got quite as much of a cultural taste of Vietnam as I was hoping for. All the more reason for a return trip!
Monday, December 1, 2008
Vietnam, Sort Of: Part I
The morning after the free ride we enjoyed from His Excellency, we set off for Vietnam. Saigon, now known as Ho Chi Minh City, our initial destination, was a mere six-hour bus ride from Phnom Penh. The ride was largely uneventful. Once we crossed the border, however, I noticed a number of subtle differences from Cambodia. First, and most obviously, the road was nicer and traffic laws appeared to be adhered to. Everyone riding motorbikes wore a helmet. Even in rural Vietnam, most houses had TV antennas. In actuality, we didn't pass through too many "rural" areas. Shortly after crossing the border, we were essentially in the massive and sprawling suburbs of Saigon.
We were dropped off in the backpacker area of town and wandered down the street until we found a decent-looking guesthouse. We climbed a few flights of stairs and threw down our things. From above a fairly major intersection, we had a good view of a jumbled mass of electric and telephone wires as well as the activity below - dozens of motorbikes, cars, cyclos, food vendors, tourists, etc.
Back outside, we looked for a spot to grab a snack settling on an Italian place down the street. Afterwards we wandered in to a travel agency to book flights to either Dalat, a cool mountain retreat in south-central Vietnam, or to Cat Tien, an isolated marine national park off the southeast coast. All flights were sold out for the times we were looking for. We regrouped, tried another travel agent, and thought about going to Hue, Hoi An, or Danang (between the two), in central Vietnam. Either the flights were completely booked or we could only get a ticket for one leg of the trip. We were shocked! We regrouped again and settled on Phu Quoc, an island off the southwest coast of Vietnam and actually much closer to Cambodia than Vietnam (it's visible from both Kep and Kampot).
After a quick stop at the guesthouse, we headed for The Rex, a high-end hotel with a roof-top veranda, for a drink. We walked through rush hour to get there - a sea of motorbikes packing the streets and making any street crossing a real-life game of Frogger. Along the way, we passed a bustling market, stopping in to look around. There was a beautiful array of silks and an impressive stock of Vietnamese coffee amidst more touristy knick-knacks.
The Rex was a thoroughly worthwhile stop. The drinks were pricey - about the same as the U.S. - but worth it for the combination of their strength and the atmosphere. Spending an hour in the gardened veranda was simply a wonderful way to spend a bit of time at twilight and debate politics (which we did). Pretending like we were staying at The Rex, we asked the concierge for a dinner recommendation. It was just a short walk away in a very fancy part of town; the street were lined with the stores of top designers like Gucci, Prada, Armani, etc.
The setting for the restaurant was quite fancy, but with live traditional music and a view of the street below, the ambiance was enjoyable. I, however, was unable to enjoy either the ambiance or the food. The dumplings I snacked on at the Italian restaurant made me violently ill during dinner, relieving me of my appetite and quite a bit more. What's a trip to a new southeast Asian country without some stomach problems though? Back at the guesthouse, and with the irritant seemingly out of my system, I felt much better. Exhausted, I crashed hard.
We woke early in the morning and, with my appetite back in full, grabbed a delicious breakfast at a small food stall outside the guesthouse - flat white noodles with tofu, bean sprouts, crunchy fried onions and a twist of lime. From breakfast it was off to the airport to see just what Phu Quoc was all about.
We were dropped off in the backpacker area of town and wandered down the street until we found a decent-looking guesthouse. We climbed a few flights of stairs and threw down our things. From above a fairly major intersection, we had a good view of a jumbled mass of electric and telephone wires as well as the activity below - dozens of motorbikes, cars, cyclos, food vendors, tourists, etc.
Back outside, we looked for a spot to grab a snack settling on an Italian place down the street. Afterwards we wandered in to a travel agency to book flights to either Dalat, a cool mountain retreat in south-central Vietnam, or to Cat Tien, an isolated marine national park off the southeast coast. All flights were sold out for the times we were looking for. We regrouped, tried another travel agent, and thought about going to Hue, Hoi An, or Danang (between the two), in central Vietnam. Either the flights were completely booked or we could only get a ticket for one leg of the trip. We were shocked! We regrouped again and settled on Phu Quoc, an island off the southwest coast of Vietnam and actually much closer to Cambodia than Vietnam (it's visible from both Kep and Kampot).
After a quick stop at the guesthouse, we headed for The Rex, a high-end hotel with a roof-top veranda, for a drink. We walked through rush hour to get there - a sea of motorbikes packing the streets and making any street crossing a real-life game of Frogger. Along the way, we passed a bustling market, stopping in to look around. There was a beautiful array of silks and an impressive stock of Vietnamese coffee amidst more touristy knick-knacks.
The Rex was a thoroughly worthwhile stop. The drinks were pricey - about the same as the U.S. - but worth it for the combination of their strength and the atmosphere. Spending an hour in the gardened veranda was simply a wonderful way to spend a bit of time at twilight and debate politics (which we did). Pretending like we were staying at The Rex, we asked the concierge for a dinner recommendation. It was just a short walk away in a very fancy part of town; the street were lined with the stores of top designers like Gucci, Prada, Armani, etc.
The setting for the restaurant was quite fancy, but with live traditional music and a view of the street below, the ambiance was enjoyable. I, however, was unable to enjoy either the ambiance or the food. The dumplings I snacked on at the Italian restaurant made me violently ill during dinner, relieving me of my appetite and quite a bit more. What's a trip to a new southeast Asian country without some stomach problems though? Back at the guesthouse, and with the irritant seemingly out of my system, I felt much better. Exhausted, I crashed hard.
We woke early in the morning and, with my appetite back in full, grabbed a delicious breakfast at a small food stall outside the guesthouse - flat white noodles with tofu, bean sprouts, crunchy fried onions and a twist of lime. From breakfast it was off to the airport to see just what Phu Quoc was all about.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Come on and Take a Free Ride
For Water Festival, we headed for the foreign visitors tent, much like last year. It was clearly much better-advertised than last year, however, as the tent was practically full of tour groups wearing matching shirts and the steps in front of the tent, which were empty last year, were packed with foreigners. I won't repeat the details of the boat races or the atmosphere - they were largely the same as our first trip to Bon Om Tuk.
Once the boat races ended, we were again treated to a wonderful display of "floats." Over a dozen boats were outfitted with the emblems of various Cambodian ministries in elaborate and hulking displays of light. After the sun set, the floats headed upriver as fireworks went off behind them. It is at this time of day that the Water Festival is at its busiest - most of the villages that flock to Phnom Penh have seen plenty of boats, but few have seen a true fireworks display or anything akin to the floats.
Attempting to get from the foreign visitors tent to streets that were not closed to traffic - probably about half a mile - was difficult to say the least. I have never been packed into a crowd so tight in my life. It was exactly the kind of situation that the Embassy or the State Department tells you to avoid when traveling to domestic situations - if a fight were to break out or somebody were to start pushing, several people would have easily been trampled. It was not until later that we realized that people were crowding so tightly to catch a glimpse of the King, who was about to make his way from the VIP tent on the riverfront back to the Royal Palace.
We managed to find our way to Street 184, usually closed to the public, between the Royal Palace and the National Museum. We walked briskly away from the waterfront along with throngs of others. About halfway to Norodom Boulevard, where the road blocks ended, a big black Lexus SUV came up behind us. Even though there are hundreds of such vehicles in Phnom Penh alone, I always try to peer inside to see if it is His Excellency. In this case, I didn't see His Excellency, but I did recognize his driver and handyman. As I waved, he pulled up along side us. What are the odds? Tens of thousands of people walking down the street, hundreds of VIP cars, and we manage to run into His Excellency?
Though the car was mostly full, we squeezed in - me and Shanti's parents in the back with His Excellency's incredibly elegant wife, His Excellency up front, and Shanti and an RCAF officer (a bodyguard for His Excellency?) in the trunk. Though it was a bit cramped, it was definitely the best option in terms of transport; there was certainly not to be any haggling with price gouging tuk-tuk drivers tonight.
Once the boat races ended, we were again treated to a wonderful display of "floats." Over a dozen boats were outfitted with the emblems of various Cambodian ministries in elaborate and hulking displays of light. After the sun set, the floats headed upriver as fireworks went off behind them. It is at this time of day that the Water Festival is at its busiest - most of the villages that flock to Phnom Penh have seen plenty of boats, but few have seen a true fireworks display or anything akin to the floats.
Attempting to get from the foreign visitors tent to streets that were not closed to traffic - probably about half a mile - was difficult to say the least. I have never been packed into a crowd so tight in my life. It was exactly the kind of situation that the Embassy or the State Department tells you to avoid when traveling to domestic situations - if a fight were to break out or somebody were to start pushing, several people would have easily been trampled. It was not until later that we realized that people were crowding so tightly to catch a glimpse of the King, who was about to make his way from the VIP tent on the riverfront back to the Royal Palace.
We managed to find our way to Street 184, usually closed to the public, between the Royal Palace and the National Museum. We walked briskly away from the waterfront along with throngs of others. About halfway to Norodom Boulevard, where the road blocks ended, a big black Lexus SUV came up behind us. Even though there are hundreds of such vehicles in Phnom Penh alone, I always try to peer inside to see if it is His Excellency. In this case, I didn't see His Excellency, but I did recognize his driver and handyman. As I waved, he pulled up along side us. What are the odds? Tens of thousands of people walking down the street, hundreds of VIP cars, and we manage to run into His Excellency?
Though the car was mostly full, we squeezed in - me and Shanti's parents in the back with His Excellency's incredibly elegant wife, His Excellency up front, and Shanti and an RCAF officer (a bodyguard for His Excellency?) in the trunk. Though it was a bit cramped, it was definitely the best option in terms of transport; there was certainly not to be any haggling with price gouging tuk-tuk drivers tonight.
Monday, November 24, 2008
The Reverse Skin Tax
Leaving Memot early the morning after Sarath's wedding, we headed back to Phnom Penh. As Water Festival (Bon Om Tuk) began that afternoon, it was one of the worst possible days to be traveling to Phnom Penh. The population of the city supposedly doubles for the three-day festival from roughly three to six million people, and many of the villagers coming to town were doing so at the same time as us.
An additional concern was that at some point in the day - no one seemed to know for sure when - the bridge across the Tonle Sap would be closed to vehicular traffic. For most of the trip, the traffic wasn't nearly as bad as I was expecting; in fact, we were making really good time. About fifteen kilometers outside of town, however, we came to a dead stop. Over half an hour we moved perhaps a half kilometer. Shortly thereafter, we came to a checkpoint. Several police officers were waving all minivans (the typical, cramped, and overstuffed method for travel) to the side of the road. Apparently, only private vehicles were allowed past this checkpoint and everyone taking minivans or buses had to get out at this point and take either a moto or a tuk-tuk the 15km into town.
As we pulled up to the checkpoint, we were waved to the side of the road. The driver pulled up to one of the police officers and, in Khmer, said that he was transporting foreigners back to Phnom Penh. The officer simply nodded, and waved us down the road in which we were just about the only vehicle with more than two wheels. Just before we got to the Japanese Friendship Bridge across the Tonle Sap we came to another checkpoint. The driver tried the same technique as before, but to no avail. We were directed into a dirt parking lot, from which it was implied we would gather our belongings and walk across the bridge and back in to town.
Clearly all of us preferred to take the van all the way into town to be dropped off at our houses. So one of my coworkers and I (both foreigners) hopped out and, in Khmer, explained to the police officers that we were just coming back from a work trip to the provinces. He asked why we hadn't come back the day before, when the roads were open, to which we replied that we had to work. He seemed to mull this over for a minute, before waving our van over to him. As he did so, he gave us a nod, and we were on our way over the bridge. While crossing, one of my Khmer colleagues said, rather straightforwardly that it was because of us foreigners that we were allowed through both checkpoints. I joking replied simply "you're welcome."
It was a really interesting dynamic though. There is absolutely no way that a van full of Khmers would have been able to convince a police officer to let them through because they were coming back from a business trip. Perhaps if there was a bit of money involved or the driver was well-connected (what well-connected Khmer drives minivans for a living though?) passage would be a possibility. While we all felt a little uncomfortable with the special treatment we were getting, I suppose it was some pay back (pardon the pun) for being charged higher prices at the market, for travel, and other things. It would be much nicer, however, if we were on more level social ground, but it's going to be a long time before anything of that nature happens.
An additional concern was that at some point in the day - no one seemed to know for sure when - the bridge across the Tonle Sap would be closed to vehicular traffic. For most of the trip, the traffic wasn't nearly as bad as I was expecting; in fact, we were making really good time. About fifteen kilometers outside of town, however, we came to a dead stop. Over half an hour we moved perhaps a half kilometer. Shortly thereafter, we came to a checkpoint. Several police officers were waving all minivans (the typical, cramped, and overstuffed method for travel) to the side of the road. Apparently, only private vehicles were allowed past this checkpoint and everyone taking minivans or buses had to get out at this point and take either a moto or a tuk-tuk the 15km into town.
As we pulled up to the checkpoint, we were waved to the side of the road. The driver pulled up to one of the police officers and, in Khmer, said that he was transporting foreigners back to Phnom Penh. The officer simply nodded, and waved us down the road in which we were just about the only vehicle with more than two wheels. Just before we got to the Japanese Friendship Bridge across the Tonle Sap we came to another checkpoint. The driver tried the same technique as before, but to no avail. We were directed into a dirt parking lot, from which it was implied we would gather our belongings and walk across the bridge and back in to town.
Clearly all of us preferred to take the van all the way into town to be dropped off at our houses. So one of my coworkers and I (both foreigners) hopped out and, in Khmer, explained to the police officers that we were just coming back from a work trip to the provinces. He asked why we hadn't come back the day before, when the roads were open, to which we replied that we had to work. He seemed to mull this over for a minute, before waving our van over to him. As he did so, he gave us a nod, and we were on our way over the bridge. While crossing, one of my Khmer colleagues said, rather straightforwardly that it was because of us foreigners that we were allowed through both checkpoints. I joking replied simply "you're welcome."
It was a really interesting dynamic though. There is absolutely no way that a van full of Khmers would have been able to convince a police officer to let them through because they were coming back from a business trip. Perhaps if there was a bit of money involved or the driver was well-connected (what well-connected Khmer drives minivans for a living though?) passage would be a possibility. While we all felt a little uncomfortable with the special treatment we were getting, I suppose it was some pay back (pardon the pun) for being charged higher prices at the market, for travel, and other things. It would be much nicer, however, if we were on more level social ground, but it's going to be a long time before anything of that nature happens.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
A Village Wedding
The morning after dancing the night away at Vuth and Cina's wedding, we woke relatively early to celebrate Cambodia's 55th Independence Day, a rather communist style parade featuring tens of thousands of civil servants and floats from various ministries and the military. Early on Monday morning, Shanti and I and Shanti's parents piled into a minivan with about ten of my coworkers to set off for the wedding of one of my coworkers in Memot District, Kampong Cham Province. The four-hour ride was quite pleasant; it was nice to get out of Phnom Penh and see the rice fields at their peak.
We arrived at the bride's house, several kilometers outside of Memot town and right on the national road, just in time for a quick lunch. As with most village weddings, a huge tent containing dozens of tables was set up on the dirt in front of the house. There were relatively few people around - the traditional ceremonies that take place in the morning were over - so we had a quiet lunch and took the minivan into town to settle in to our guesthouse.
We relaxed a bit and then a handful of the foreigners in the group decided to go for a walk about town. The six of us were probably the most foreigners Memot had ever seen and the sight of us was cause for significant commotion. The fruit vendors were quite amused that we could speak a bit of Khmer and the moto drivers were certainly perplexed as to why we were in town. We stumbled upon a small, but interesting archaeological museum covering ancient civilizations in the surrounding area before going back to the guesthouse.
After some more relaxation we got suited up for the wedding and took the van back to the bride's house. Although it was not very crowded, there was a line out front of people waiting to get their pictures taken with Sarath, my coworker, and Kimhuch, his bride, under the archway entrance to the wedding tent. Next to the archway was a typically over-edited photograph of the couple in which they were a ghostly pale (pale skin is highly desirable across Cambodia and much of Asia and is seen as of a higher class than darker skin). Rising up from the entrance was a bamboo pole with two huge megaphones attached, one pointing in each direction the road went. The megaphones blasted music from a live band loud enough for neighbors several kilometers away to hear (another symbol of status is apparently letting as many people as possible know that you or your kin are getting married).
As we posed for pictures with Sarath and Kimhuch, a small gathering of local kids surrounded us, curious at the sight of so many barangs. We were seated at a table with discarded napkins, fish bones and other debris in a ring around the chairs, the typical disposal method for weddings. We were served a meal similar to but not quite as fancy as Vuth and Cina's wedding and were greeted with an endless supply of beer. A crew of several dozen local kids scanned the tables for those finishing their drinks and quickly snatched empty cans from the ground, a $0.03 per can gold mine.
The live band was quite loud and apparently caught the attention of the entire area. By the time it was 7:00, about an hour after we arrived, a crowd of several hundred villagers - not guests, merely onlookers - surrounded the wedding tent. The crowd quickly doubled in size once some of the barangs got up to dance and soon all of us were dancing in the best Khmer style we could, much to the amusement of the locals. It was simply amazing how many non-guests had turned out simply for entertainment. Obviously not too much happens in Memot, but I had to wonder if the crowd size was a standard or if the presence of foreigners had a particular drawing power.
At one point, a little before Sarath and Kimhuch were to make their entrance, a lotus flower fight broke out between some of the barangs and the local kids. Though it seemed as if everyone was having a good time with it, the bride's mother did not look amused. With several more beers in our bellies and another hour of dancing under our belts, we were exhausted. And it was only 8:30pm. Such is life in the provinces - it begins as soon as the sun is up and ends shortly after it goes down. Sarath's wedding was incredibly enjoyable, but in an entirely different way than Vuth and Cina's. It was certainly a unique experience that I will not soon forget.
We arrived at the bride's house, several kilometers outside of Memot town and right on the national road, just in time for a quick lunch. As with most village weddings, a huge tent containing dozens of tables was set up on the dirt in front of the house. There were relatively few people around - the traditional ceremonies that take place in the morning were over - so we had a quiet lunch and took the minivan into town to settle in to our guesthouse.
We relaxed a bit and then a handful of the foreigners in the group decided to go for a walk about town. The six of us were probably the most foreigners Memot had ever seen and the sight of us was cause for significant commotion. The fruit vendors were quite amused that we could speak a bit of Khmer and the moto drivers were certainly perplexed as to why we were in town. We stumbled upon a small, but interesting archaeological museum covering ancient civilizations in the surrounding area before going back to the guesthouse.
After some more relaxation we got suited up for the wedding and took the van back to the bride's house. Although it was not very crowded, there was a line out front of people waiting to get their pictures taken with Sarath, my coworker, and Kimhuch, his bride, under the archway entrance to the wedding tent. Next to the archway was a typically over-edited photograph of the couple in which they were a ghostly pale (pale skin is highly desirable across Cambodia and much of Asia and is seen as of a higher class than darker skin). Rising up from the entrance was a bamboo pole with two huge megaphones attached, one pointing in each direction the road went. The megaphones blasted music from a live band loud enough for neighbors several kilometers away to hear (another symbol of status is apparently letting as many people as possible know that you or your kin are getting married).
As we posed for pictures with Sarath and Kimhuch, a small gathering of local kids surrounded us, curious at the sight of so many barangs. We were seated at a table with discarded napkins, fish bones and other debris in a ring around the chairs, the typical disposal method for weddings. We were served a meal similar to but not quite as fancy as Vuth and Cina's wedding and were greeted with an endless supply of beer. A crew of several dozen local kids scanned the tables for those finishing their drinks and quickly snatched empty cans from the ground, a $0.03 per can gold mine.
The live band was quite loud and apparently caught the attention of the entire area. By the time it was 7:00, about an hour after we arrived, a crowd of several hundred villagers - not guests, merely onlookers - surrounded the wedding tent. The crowd quickly doubled in size once some of the barangs got up to dance and soon all of us were dancing in the best Khmer style we could, much to the amusement of the locals. It was simply amazing how many non-guests had turned out simply for entertainment. Obviously not too much happens in Memot, but I had to wonder if the crowd size was a standard or if the presence of foreigners had a particular drawing power.
At one point, a little before Sarath and Kimhuch were to make their entrance, a lotus flower fight broke out between some of the barangs and the local kids. Though it seemed as if everyone was having a good time with it, the bride's mother did not look amused. With several more beers in our bellies and another hour of dancing under our belts, we were exhausted. And it was only 8:30pm. Such is life in the provinces - it begins as soon as the sun is up and ends shortly after it goes down. Sarath's wedding was incredibly enjoyable, but in an entirely different way than Vuth and Cina's. It was certainly a unique experience that I will not soon forget.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
A Phnom Penh Wedding
Shanti’s parents arrived in Phnom Penh at the beginning of November just in time for a flurry of activity. With the end of the rainy season comes two things: weddings and the Water Festival. Over a period of four days, we had two weddings to attend, including most of the traditional ceremonies for one of them. The first wedding was for Vuth, a friend of mine and one of Shanti’s former co-workers, and Cina, who has been an extremely helpful and reliable travel agent since shortly after we arrived in Phnom Penh.
While I don't want to overplay it, I'd like to think that Shanti and I had a little something in establishing Vuth and Cina's relationship. They knew each other before we arrived and there seemed to be some attraction, but a dinner at our house was one of the first times they had truly spent time together. Shanti and I also enthusiastically coached Vuth on courting Cina. Regardless of the importance of our role, we were excited for the first wedding in which we were friends with both the groom and bride.
The wedding was a typical, if not slightly lavish, Phnom Penh wedding. A large tent was set up in the street in front of Cina’s house on Friday and a few traditional ceremonies (which I was unable to attend, but Shanti and her parents were) were held for family and very close friends. I got off work in time to catch the end of dinner and offer my congratulations to both Vuth and Cina.
Early on Saturday morning the festivities continued with a procession of food and other gifts to Cina’s house; it was definitely the longest wedding procession I had ever seen. Throughout the morning were a number ceremonies in which we had the honor to participate as much of Vuth’s family, from Battambang, was unable to attend the wedding. There was the ribbon-tying ceremony, the hair cutting ceremony, a blessing for ancestors, a blessing from parents, all facilitated by a pushy emcee.
Following an afternoon of relaxation, we reconvened – men in dress pants and a shirt and women in slightly ridiculous silk wedding outfits – at Lucky Star restaurant. The restaurant is in fact a series of banquet halls used primarily for enormous Cambodian weddings. Vuth and Cina’s accommodated approximately 500 people, a relatively common size for urban weddings. After a greeting from Vuth, his groomsmen, and the bridesmaids at the entrance to Building A, we were seated for a typical meal of several courses: first, cashews, spring rolls, fried fish cakes, and other appetizers; second, a kind of crab soup; third, a salad of noodles, seafood, and pomelo (similar to but sweeter than grapefruit); fourth, fish; fifth, rice with chicken; and sixth, a small dessert and fruit.
Throughout the meal a live band played and Vuth and Cina’s friends rose to the stage and sang their favorite songs. There was a lot of fairly raucous dancing, at which Shanti’s mom excelled. I certainly hadn’t ever seen her mom boogie like she did and I think Shanti was equally impressed and amused. This was, in fact, the only thing a bit unusual about the wedding: how lighthearted the evening seemed to be and how happy the guests were. Most weddings are fairly formal affairs in which strict protocols are followed. The singing and dancing and general joyousness at Vuth and Cina’s certainly broke from the norm in this sense. It was, at least for the moment, the most fun I had ever had at a wedding.
While I don't want to overplay it, I'd like to think that Shanti and I had a little something in establishing Vuth and Cina's relationship. They knew each other before we arrived and there seemed to be some attraction, but a dinner at our house was one of the first times they had truly spent time together. Shanti and I also enthusiastically coached Vuth on courting Cina. Regardless of the importance of our role, we were excited for the first wedding in which we were friends with both the groom and bride.
The wedding was a typical, if not slightly lavish, Phnom Penh wedding. A large tent was set up in the street in front of Cina’s house on Friday and a few traditional ceremonies (which I was unable to attend, but Shanti and her parents were) were held for family and very close friends. I got off work in time to catch the end of dinner and offer my congratulations to both Vuth and Cina.
Early on Saturday morning the festivities continued with a procession of food and other gifts to Cina’s house; it was definitely the longest wedding procession I had ever seen. Throughout the morning were a number ceremonies in which we had the honor to participate as much of Vuth’s family, from Battambang, was unable to attend the wedding. There was the ribbon-tying ceremony, the hair cutting ceremony, a blessing for ancestors, a blessing from parents, all facilitated by a pushy emcee.
Following an afternoon of relaxation, we reconvened – men in dress pants and a shirt and women in slightly ridiculous silk wedding outfits – at Lucky Star restaurant. The restaurant is in fact a series of banquet halls used primarily for enormous Cambodian weddings. Vuth and Cina’s accommodated approximately 500 people, a relatively common size for urban weddings. After a greeting from Vuth, his groomsmen, and the bridesmaids at the entrance to Building A, we were seated for a typical meal of several courses: first, cashews, spring rolls, fried fish cakes, and other appetizers; second, a kind of crab soup; third, a salad of noodles, seafood, and pomelo (similar to but sweeter than grapefruit); fourth, fish; fifth, rice with chicken; and sixth, a small dessert and fruit.
Throughout the meal a live band played and Vuth and Cina’s friends rose to the stage and sang their favorite songs. There was a lot of fairly raucous dancing, at which Shanti’s mom excelled. I certainly hadn’t ever seen her mom boogie like she did and I think Shanti was equally impressed and amused. This was, in fact, the only thing a bit unusual about the wedding: how lighthearted the evening seemed to be and how happy the guests were. Most weddings are fairly formal affairs in which strict protocols are followed. The singing and dancing and general joyousness at Vuth and Cina’s certainly broke from the norm in this sense. It was, at least for the moment, the most fun I had ever had at a wedding.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Back to Kep
With Shanti returning from Nepal on Friday and her parents arriving next weekend, we decided to skip town for a relaxing weekend in Kep. I took Friday afternoon off and we caught the afternoon Hua Lien bus that goes to Kampot via Kep. The road that we took, I think it was National Road 3, was in absolutely terrible shape, most likely because it was the end of the rainy season and from poor maintenance. Bumpiness aside, it was a smooth ride and we arrived in a cloudy Kep late in the afternoon.
A tuk-tuk met us where the bus dropped us off to take us to Veranda, where we stayed the last time we were in Kep about a year ago. It was a relatively amusing tuk-tuk ride; we started up the hill to Veranda, but the tuk-tuk couldn't make it carrying both me and Shanti, so I hopped out to walk. Shanti was eventually forced out as well, as the hill was just too step and the tuk-tuk just too weak. We checked in and were led through the Swiss Family Robinson-style walkways to the same bungalow we had last year.
We dropped our stuff off and walked down to Kep's locally well-known crab market. In the mornings, vendors wade out into the water to their traps and bring the freshest crabs imaginable to their patrons. Beyond the market is a row of perhaps twenty shacks with metal folding tables and plastic chairs serving the best seafood in Cambodia and some of the best in the region. Shanti and I made our way to Kimly, a popular spot with foreigners because of their English menus. We got a table literally over the Gulf of Thailand, with the waves gently lapping at the wooden pillars holding up the restaurant. In the distance the sun was setting over Bokor Mountain and Phu Quoc. It was an idyllic setting for dinner.
Though the menu was full of interesting options, from very traditional Cambodian fare to shark and stingray, we ordered one of the house specialties, whole Kep crab fried with fresh Kampot green pepper and, I think, honey. It was so delicious that, as we were leaving town on Sunday we bought a kilo of fresh crab to take back to Phnom Penh with us.
On Saturday we woke to a downpour of rain, a downpour which continued practically ceaselessly until we left. If we had not been to Kep before and were planning to go to Rabbit Island or the caves at Kampong Trach, we would've been quite disappointed. However, since we were just after a relaxing weekend, it was actually really nice as it forced us to simply unwind, read and play cards.
The rain stopped long enough on Saturday afternoon for us to go for a walk, looping from Veranda to the crab market and around the coast to Kep Beach. As the sun started to set, though, we headed back to Veranda to enjoy the view from the fantastic terrace restaurant. The sunset was magnificent, with the whole sky glowing a golden color and the sun creating a shimmering reflection upon the water. By the time we finished dinner it was pouring again.
We woke to more rain on Sunday and after some relaxing and a few more games of cards, we tuk-tuked to Kep Beach to catch the bus back to Phnom Penh. As we waited for the bus to make its way from Kampot, it really dumped; and the resulting flooding was very impressive. A lake, at least ankle deep, covered the entire road (a problem that could easily be fixed if any effort was put into it) as children frolicked in it, dogs hopped across it, crab vendors trudged through it, cars splashed across it, and motos stalled. The most amusing thing about the rain, however, was that despite (or because of?) the downpour the water was packed with Cambodians, all fully dressed in pants (some jeans) and t-shirts. (Because of the combination of modesty and the desire for light skin, you will find few Cambodians that strip down into what Westerners would consider traditional swimming attire). Not only was it an entertaining sight, but it was interesting to think how different the beach would look on a rainy day in the US.
A tuk-tuk met us where the bus dropped us off to take us to Veranda, where we stayed the last time we were in Kep about a year ago. It was a relatively amusing tuk-tuk ride; we started up the hill to Veranda, but the tuk-tuk couldn't make it carrying both me and Shanti, so I hopped out to walk. Shanti was eventually forced out as well, as the hill was just too step and the tuk-tuk just too weak. We checked in and were led through the Swiss Family Robinson-style walkways to the same bungalow we had last year.
We dropped our stuff off and walked down to Kep's locally well-known crab market. In the mornings, vendors wade out into the water to their traps and bring the freshest crabs imaginable to their patrons. Beyond the market is a row of perhaps twenty shacks with metal folding tables and plastic chairs serving the best seafood in Cambodia and some of the best in the region. Shanti and I made our way to Kimly, a popular spot with foreigners because of their English menus. We got a table literally over the Gulf of Thailand, with the waves gently lapping at the wooden pillars holding up the restaurant. In the distance the sun was setting over Bokor Mountain and Phu Quoc. It was an idyllic setting for dinner.
Though the menu was full of interesting options, from very traditional Cambodian fare to shark and stingray, we ordered one of the house specialties, whole Kep crab fried with fresh Kampot green pepper and, I think, honey. It was so delicious that, as we were leaving town on Sunday we bought a kilo of fresh crab to take back to Phnom Penh with us.
On Saturday we woke to a downpour of rain, a downpour which continued practically ceaselessly until we left. If we had not been to Kep before and were planning to go to Rabbit Island or the caves at Kampong Trach, we would've been quite disappointed. However, since we were just after a relaxing weekend, it was actually really nice as it forced us to simply unwind, read and play cards.
The rain stopped long enough on Saturday afternoon for us to go for a walk, looping from Veranda to the crab market and around the coast to Kep Beach. As the sun started to set, though, we headed back to Veranda to enjoy the view from the fantastic terrace restaurant. The sunset was magnificent, with the whole sky glowing a golden color and the sun creating a shimmering reflection upon the water. By the time we finished dinner it was pouring again.
We woke to more rain on Sunday and after some relaxing and a few more games of cards, we tuk-tuked to Kep Beach to catch the bus back to Phnom Penh. As we waited for the bus to make its way from Kampot, it really dumped; and the resulting flooding was very impressive. A lake, at least ankle deep, covered the entire road (a problem that could easily be fixed if any effort was put into it) as children frolicked in it, dogs hopped across it, crab vendors trudged through it, cars splashed across it, and motos stalled. The most amusing thing about the rain, however, was that despite (or because of?) the downpour the water was packed with Cambodians, all fully dressed in pants (some jeans) and t-shirts. (Because of the combination of modesty and the desire for light skin, you will find few Cambodians that strip down into what Westerners would consider traditional swimming attire). Not only was it an entertaining sight, but it was interesting to think how different the beach would look on a rainy day in the US.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Malaysia Part VI: Melaka
Kuala Lumpur's Puduraya bus station was absolute chaos. There were dozens of ticket windows for dozens of different bus companies. For buses that were about to leave men stormed up and down the aisles shouting the names of his company's about-to-depart destination. There did not seem to be any order to how the ticket windows were organized; each bus company posted its routes on the window and patrons were either expected to know which company to use or to brave the crowds and peruse each window individually. I finally stumbled upon a guy yelling Melaka, gave him some money and headed to the correct platform. It turned out the bus wasn't leaving yet. In fact, it didn't ever show up. We got stuffed onto a beat up school bus of sorts that was already mostly full.
A slow and fairly uncomfortable three hours later, we were at the bus station outside of Melaka (for some reason most of Malaysia's municipal transport hubs are inconveniently located outside of the city necessitating many taxi rides). I ended up at a charming guesthouse across from a mosque a block off of Chinatown's main shopping street. I dropped my stuff off and walked over to the historic colonial part of town, where the Dutch, Portuguese, and British had set up shop over the last 500 years. The Studhuys town square, St. Paul's Church (with a view out to the Straits of Melaka), and the other buildings were charming, but the area was a bit too overrun with tourists for my taste. I did, however, enjoy the brightly-decorated trishaws which blasted 80s pop music, like "Don't Stop Believing" and the "Final Countdown."
Starving, I headed back across to Chinatown looking for lunch. I stopped at a small restaurant packed with old, contemplative Chinese men drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes and ordered the house specialty, chicken satay. It was the freshest and most delicious satay I've ever had, with just enough bite to keep me honest and cucumbers to cool me down.
Refreshed, I wandered down Jalan Hang Jebat, Chinatown's main street. It was a bustling mix of modern shops selling knick-knacks, dusty antique shops selling highly overpriced trinkets - I saw a Guinness pint glass on sale for $50 - and art galleries. Regardless of the product being sold, every house's windows were beautifully painted in bright colors and intricate designs. It was the perfect place to do a photographic study on windows and doors.
Continuing my wandering, I passed by beautiful Chinese temples and stumbled upon a batik gallery. Batik is a technique of painting on silk using what looks like a quill to outline a design with hot wax; once cool, the wax acts a barrier to paint spreading beyond the desired region and I had the pleasure of seeing an artist at work. Rounding a corner in a quieter part of town, I noticed a parade coming my direction. The police were closing streets one by one and it was clear that hundreds of people, some in elaborate silk costumes, were involved in the parade, including many floats. As the parade passed, I stopped a boy that looked like a boy scout and asked him what the parade was for. He looked at me blankly and, in the most matter of fact statement I've ever heard, replied "The birth of God." I was too stunned by his nonchalance to ask him which God. Hot and tuckered out, I went back to the guesthouse for a shower and a rest.
Since it was my last night of vacation, I intended to make myself presentable - at least more presentable than I had been for much of the past week - and treat myself to a nice dinner. As I was wandering to the fancy Malay-Portuguese restaurant I had in mind, however, I noticed that Chinatown's main street was closed to cars and motorbikes. Intrigued, I went over to discover that a huge night market was being set up. I walked through to get a sneak preview and then decided to get a few beers at the beautifully colonial and perfectly located Geographer Cafe. I got the absolute best table possible and sipped deliciously cold beer as the market took shape. These were probably some of my most content moments on a trip of much contentment.
Ogling the street food vendors with a few drinks in my belly and hunger lurking, I opted out of the fancy sit-down dinner and set off to enjoy the wonders of street food. I'm not sure exactly what I ended up with - something like a spring roll, some sort of fried prawn puff, some spicy vegetarian Indian food, sweet barbecued pork, sweet dough rolled in crushed peanuts, and the Melakan specialty pineapple tarts. And all of it was not even $5. Good choice. Moreover, the open market was incredibly fun to walk around and was bustling with (mostly local) activity.
There were a number of particularly entertaining sites that are worth a brief mention: Chinese temples were turned into karaoke joints and aerobic dance classes. There was a huge stage for karaoke at one end of the street, complete with tables and chairs for onlookers. I couldn't help but admiring the dance moves of an older Malay man (sorry, I only got a video). Then, just as I was about to call it a night, I stumbled upon a street show. Nothing like juggling fire or magic or any of that nonsense. I mean a real street show: a guy trying to hawk some ridiculous product. In this case it was a stocky, middle-aged Chinese Malay guy, speaking a mix of English, Malay, and Chinese. He had gathered a crowd of several hundred and he was selling some sort of pain-killing ointment. I will give him credit for being able to hold the crowd and for his great sense of humor (even if I couldn't understand everything he was saying). But the true selling point of his show was how he demonstrated that the ointment worked. The man took a fresh green coconut - hard as a rock - stood on two clay pots and managed to punch through the flesh of the coconut using only his hand in four jabs. In a great show of theatrics, he then had his assistants pour the ointment all over his hand and after a few minutes, he paraded his hand, not at all swollen or bloodied, around the crowd. And people absolutely ate it up, buying up to ten bottles of the ointment at about $7 a bottle. It was like being in an infomercial and surrounded by a whole group of people who actually believed that the product being sold to them wasn't a total farce. This in and of itself was almost as amusing as round two, where our entertainer elbowed through another coconut in a series of three blows. Knowing that this would be hard to top, I called it a night.
On Sunday, my final morning in Malaysia, I relaxed before catching a taxi back to the bus station. At the bus station, I caught a bus to Seramban, where I transferred to a bus to the airport. Arriving about an hour and a half before my departure, I asked where to check in, forgetting that Air Asia is in a different terminal than the other airlines. So I had to take another taxi the fifteen kilometers around the back of Kuala Lumpur International Airport to the Air Asia terminal. A somewhat stressful end to an absolutely wonderful trip. I certainly hope that I will have the opportunity to return to Malaysia and explore in more detail.
A slow and fairly uncomfortable three hours later, we were at the bus station outside of Melaka (for some reason most of Malaysia's municipal transport hubs are inconveniently located outside of the city necessitating many taxi rides). I ended up at a charming guesthouse across from a mosque a block off of Chinatown's main shopping street. I dropped my stuff off and walked over to the historic colonial part of town, where the Dutch, Portuguese, and British had set up shop over the last 500 years. The Studhuys town square, St. Paul's Church (with a view out to the Straits of Melaka), and the other buildings were charming, but the area was a bit too overrun with tourists for my taste. I did, however, enjoy the brightly-decorated trishaws which blasted 80s pop music, like "Don't Stop Believing" and the "Final Countdown."
Starving, I headed back across to Chinatown looking for lunch. I stopped at a small restaurant packed with old, contemplative Chinese men drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes and ordered the house specialty, chicken satay. It was the freshest and most delicious satay I've ever had, with just enough bite to keep me honest and cucumbers to cool me down.
Refreshed, I wandered down Jalan Hang Jebat, Chinatown's main street. It was a bustling mix of modern shops selling knick-knacks, dusty antique shops selling highly overpriced trinkets - I saw a Guinness pint glass on sale for $50 - and art galleries. Regardless of the product being sold, every house's windows were beautifully painted in bright colors and intricate designs. It was the perfect place to do a photographic study on windows and doors.
Continuing my wandering, I passed by beautiful Chinese temples and stumbled upon a batik gallery. Batik is a technique of painting on silk using what looks like a quill to outline a design with hot wax; once cool, the wax acts a barrier to paint spreading beyond the desired region and I had the pleasure of seeing an artist at work. Rounding a corner in a quieter part of town, I noticed a parade coming my direction. The police were closing streets one by one and it was clear that hundreds of people, some in elaborate silk costumes, were involved in the parade, including many floats. As the parade passed, I stopped a boy that looked like a boy scout and asked him what the parade was for. He looked at me blankly and, in the most matter of fact statement I've ever heard, replied "The birth of God." I was too stunned by his nonchalance to ask him which God. Hot and tuckered out, I went back to the guesthouse for a shower and a rest.
Since it was my last night of vacation, I intended to make myself presentable - at least more presentable than I had been for much of the past week - and treat myself to a nice dinner. As I was wandering to the fancy Malay-Portuguese restaurant I had in mind, however, I noticed that Chinatown's main street was closed to cars and motorbikes. Intrigued, I went over to discover that a huge night market was being set up. I walked through to get a sneak preview and then decided to get a few beers at the beautifully colonial and perfectly located Geographer Cafe. I got the absolute best table possible and sipped deliciously cold beer as the market took shape. These were probably some of my most content moments on a trip of much contentment.
Ogling the street food vendors with a few drinks in my belly and hunger lurking, I opted out of the fancy sit-down dinner and set off to enjoy the wonders of street food. I'm not sure exactly what I ended up with - something like a spring roll, some sort of fried prawn puff, some spicy vegetarian Indian food, sweet barbecued pork, sweet dough rolled in crushed peanuts, and the Melakan specialty pineapple tarts. And all of it was not even $5. Good choice. Moreover, the open market was incredibly fun to walk around and was bustling with (mostly local) activity.
There were a number of particularly entertaining sites that are worth a brief mention: Chinese temples were turned into karaoke joints and aerobic dance classes. There was a huge stage for karaoke at one end of the street, complete with tables and chairs for onlookers. I couldn't help but admiring the dance moves of an older Malay man (sorry, I only got a video). Then, just as I was about to call it a night, I stumbled upon a street show. Nothing like juggling fire or magic or any of that nonsense. I mean a real street show: a guy trying to hawk some ridiculous product. In this case it was a stocky, middle-aged Chinese Malay guy, speaking a mix of English, Malay, and Chinese. He had gathered a crowd of several hundred and he was selling some sort of pain-killing ointment. I will give him credit for being able to hold the crowd and for his great sense of humor (even if I couldn't understand everything he was saying). But the true selling point of his show was how he demonstrated that the ointment worked. The man took a fresh green coconut - hard as a rock - stood on two clay pots and managed to punch through the flesh of the coconut using only his hand in four jabs. In a great show of theatrics, he then had his assistants pour the ointment all over his hand and after a few minutes, he paraded his hand, not at all swollen or bloodied, around the crowd. And people absolutely ate it up, buying up to ten bottles of the ointment at about $7 a bottle. It was like being in an infomercial and surrounded by a whole group of people who actually believed that the product being sold to them wasn't a total farce. This in and of itself was almost as amusing as round two, where our entertainer elbowed through another coconut in a series of three blows. Knowing that this would be hard to top, I called it a night.
On Sunday, my final morning in Malaysia, I relaxed before catching a taxi back to the bus station. At the bus station, I caught a bus to Seramban, where I transferred to a bus to the airport. Arriving about an hour and a half before my departure, I asked where to check in, forgetting that Air Asia is in a different terminal than the other airlines. So I had to take another taxi the fifteen kilometers around the back of Kuala Lumpur International Airport to the Air Asia terminal. A somewhat stressful end to an absolutely wonderful trip. I certainly hope that I will have the opportunity to return to Malaysia and explore in more detail.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Malaysia Part V: Kuala Lumpur
I arrived in Kuala Lumpur (KL for short) late on Thursday night. Not wanting to repeat my late night search for a guesthouse, I borrowed my taxi driver's phone to call a few places to see if rooms were still available. On the drive into town I had a very interesting conversation with the cab driver who, like almost everyone else I met, spoke very good English. We talked a lot about corruption and how it manifests itself in Malaysia, the typical tourist and tourist season, and the Hari Raya holiday. He was an incredibly nice guy and very sharp; part of me wondered why he was a cab driver. The guesthouse I stayed at, Le Village, wasn't nice, exactly, but it was cheap, well-located, and had a lot of character.
I woke up and set out early on Friday, heading for Masjid Jamek, a beautiful nearby mosque. It didn't open until 9:30, however, so I wandered somewhat aimlessly for the next hour. I went up through Little India - which really did feel like being in India - and popped into a bustling restaurant for breakfast. I had no idea what to get, so I just told the waiter to bring me whatever he recommended - some delicious dahl wrapped in naan and with four different sauces. As I ate, women in brightly colored saris gossiped and men smoked cigarettes and talked politics (not too long ago there were serious protests by the Malaysian Indian community who felt shortchanged by the government at the expense of ethnic Malays).
After breakfast, I continued my wandering around, passing beautiful Chinese temples and an intricately decorated Sri Maha Mariamman Hindu temple. Continuing on my tour of religious establishments, I made my way back to Masjid Jamek. The Moghul-influenced architecture was beautiful and the setting, at the confluence of two rivers dotted with palm trees, was equally impressive. Though unable to actually enter the mosque, I wandered around the premises and enjoyed this oasis of peaceful quiet within KL. The friendly Filipino imam even chatted with me for a few minutes.
From Masjid Jamek I walked over to Dataran Merdeka (Independence Square), where Malaysia declared independence just over fifty years ago. The huge area of green was flanked by a beautiful mix of colonial and contemporary buildings, some housing government offices and others museums. Unfortunately, because of Raya, most of the museums were closed. Instead of learning about history, I opted for current events, grabbing a copy of The Straits Times, Malaysia's English-language newspaper and just sat in the park relaxing.
Back on the tourist trail, I made my way to the old train station, an absolutely gorgeous amalgamation of European and Malay architecture. Across the street was the almost as impressive offices of KTM, the Malaysian railway authority. From there, I walked over to the Masjid Negara (National Mosque), a modern mosque with a two-hundred foot minaret and a really interesting classically Islamic eight-sided star design covering the entire complex, from the marble walkways to the grass surrounding the palm trees. I made a quick, but worthwhile stop in the Lake Gardens, a huge park area, and the butterfly park contained there within.
Touristed out for the day, I took the impressively efficient and cheap commuter rail to the Petronas Towers, at over 1500 feet, recently the tallest building(s) in the world. Before admiring them, however, I went to enjoy an English-language movie, a comfort Phnom Penh does not have on offer. Though the movie I saw was terrible, it was really nice to plop down in an air conditioned and munch on popcorn and sip on a Coke. After the movie, I wandered around the mall, in sheer awe of the consumerism around me, a consumerism Cambodians can only dream of. While I didn't have any desire to shop, I did take advantage of the culinary delights on offer, like Dunkin' Donuts and Auntie Anne's Pretzels.
I left the mall to enjoy the view of the Petronas Towers, which were indeed quite beautiful, as well as the people watching, which was fantastic. There were stylishly dressed teenagers (I did find it a bit ironic that it was acceptable for teenage girls to wear tight jeans and a tight shirt along with their headscarf), lots of cute kids, and I think a pretty good taste of every day life for people living in KL. I sat and enjoyed for a couple of hours, waiting for the sun to set and the towers to be lit up. Now exhausted, I headed back to Le Village and called it a night.
I was up early on Saturday and walked over to Chinatown for breakfast - a couple of donuts and a curry puff. After a bit more wandering, I got my stuff and headed for the bus station to catch a bus to Melaka.
While I don't typically like big cities when I'm traveling, Kuala Lumpur (or KL) really grew on me. I was intrigued by KL's ethnic diversity and history and its effects on the current city - a thriving Chinatown and Little India, fantastic cuisine, and beautiful architecture. If I had a choice of where to spend my time in Malaysia, KL wouldn't be anywhere near the top, but it turned out to be a wonderful place to spend a day and a half.
I woke up and set out early on Friday, heading for Masjid Jamek, a beautiful nearby mosque. It didn't open until 9:30, however, so I wandered somewhat aimlessly for the next hour. I went up through Little India - which really did feel like being in India - and popped into a bustling restaurant for breakfast. I had no idea what to get, so I just told the waiter to bring me whatever he recommended - some delicious dahl wrapped in naan and with four different sauces. As I ate, women in brightly colored saris gossiped and men smoked cigarettes and talked politics (not too long ago there were serious protests by the Malaysian Indian community who felt shortchanged by the government at the expense of ethnic Malays).
After breakfast, I continued my wandering around, passing beautiful Chinese temples and an intricately decorated Sri Maha Mariamman Hindu temple. Continuing on my tour of religious establishments, I made my way back to Masjid Jamek. The Moghul-influenced architecture was beautiful and the setting, at the confluence of two rivers dotted with palm trees, was equally impressive. Though unable to actually enter the mosque, I wandered around the premises and enjoyed this oasis of peaceful quiet within KL. The friendly Filipino imam even chatted with me for a few minutes.
From Masjid Jamek I walked over to Dataran Merdeka (Independence Square), where Malaysia declared independence just over fifty years ago. The huge area of green was flanked by a beautiful mix of colonial and contemporary buildings, some housing government offices and others museums. Unfortunately, because of Raya, most of the museums were closed. Instead of learning about history, I opted for current events, grabbing a copy of The Straits Times, Malaysia's English-language newspaper and just sat in the park relaxing.
Back on the tourist trail, I made my way to the old train station, an absolutely gorgeous amalgamation of European and Malay architecture. Across the street was the almost as impressive offices of KTM, the Malaysian railway authority. From there, I walked over to the Masjid Negara (National Mosque), a modern mosque with a two-hundred foot minaret and a really interesting classically Islamic eight-sided star design covering the entire complex, from the marble walkways to the grass surrounding the palm trees. I made a quick, but worthwhile stop in the Lake Gardens, a huge park area, and the butterfly park contained there within.
Touristed out for the day, I took the impressively efficient and cheap commuter rail to the Petronas Towers, at over 1500 feet, recently the tallest building(s) in the world. Before admiring them, however, I went to enjoy an English-language movie, a comfort Phnom Penh does not have on offer. Though the movie I saw was terrible, it was really nice to plop down in an air conditioned and munch on popcorn and sip on a Coke. After the movie, I wandered around the mall, in sheer awe of the consumerism around me, a consumerism Cambodians can only dream of. While I didn't have any desire to shop, I did take advantage of the culinary delights on offer, like Dunkin' Donuts and Auntie Anne's Pretzels.
I left the mall to enjoy the view of the Petronas Towers, which were indeed quite beautiful, as well as the people watching, which was fantastic. There were stylishly dressed teenagers (I did find it a bit ironic that it was acceptable for teenage girls to wear tight jeans and a tight shirt along with their headscarf), lots of cute kids, and I think a pretty good taste of every day life for people living in KL. I sat and enjoyed for a couple of hours, waiting for the sun to set and the towers to be lit up. Now exhausted, I headed back to Le Village and called it a night.
I was up early on Saturday and walked over to Chinatown for breakfast - a couple of donuts and a curry puff. After a bit more wandering, I got my stuff and headed for the bus station to catch a bus to Melaka.
While I don't typically like big cities when I'm traveling, Kuala Lumpur (or KL) really grew on me. I was intrigued by KL's ethnic diversity and history and its effects on the current city - a thriving Chinatown and Little India, fantastic cuisine, and beautiful architecture. If I had a choice of where to spend my time in Malaysia, KL wouldn't be anywhere near the top, but it turned out to be a wonderful place to spend a day and a half.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Malaysia Part IV: Pulau Perhentian Kecil and a Few Hours in Kuala Terengganu
Following my morning perusal of Kota Bharu, I headed for the bus station to catch a bus to Kuala Besut, the small fishing town where boats leave for the Perhentian islands. I arrived at about 8:30am and, unfortunately, the bus didn't leave until 9:30. As I was waiting around, I started talking to an interesting couple: a Frenchman, teaching French in China, and his Chinese girlfriend, a civil engineer in France. While we chatted, a taxi driver approached us and offered to take us to Kuala Besut for $3 per person, just slightly more than the bus. We agreed and set off.
Our taxi driver turned out to be quite a character, a very good tour guide and an equally good insight into life in Malaysia. He provided a bit of background about himself and his nine children, Raya, the amount of freedom he has in Malaysia (he argued that he was incredibly free), crime, foreigners (and how the Perhentians are not a good place for family because of the scantily clad beach-goers) and so on.
An informative one hour ride later and we were at Kuala Besut, where we bought boat tickets to the Perhentians. On my more limited budget, I decided to go to Perhentian Kecil's Long Beach, more of a backpacker scene than the bigger Perhentian Besar. After a bouncy forty-five minute ride into the South China Sea we were between the two beautiful islands. The water was a surreal blue and the beaches were white, sandy and dotted with palm trees. Because of the upcoming Hari Raya, many of the bungalows and restaurants scattered across the beach were shuttered. I managed to find a nice bungalow right on the beach, grabbed lunch and spent most of the afternoon with my feet in the sand and the clear, blue and shallow waters. It was definitely a bit odd going straight from one of the most conservative cities in Malaysia to a beach of well-tanned, bikini wearing twenty-something westerners. That said, I knew the next few days were going to be the type of laid-back atmosphere I was looking for.
Later in the afternoon, I decided to walk over to Coral Bay on the other side of the island. It was a short walk with some interesting red-barked trees and a handful of monitor lizards. The other side was absolutely beautiful. Though the beach was a bit rockier, there was an idyllic pier extending out into the water. I spent at least two hours simply enjoying the view of the schools of fish in the water and the sunset over other islands in the distance. All of the guesthouses and restaurants at Coral Bay were closed so I was one of only a few people around. It was some of the most peaceful time I had on the whole trip. Heading back to the other side of Kecil, I had a pleasant dinner and a couple of beers at one of the two restaurants that was open and
called it a night.
On Wednesday morning I decided to go on a snorkeling trip and see just how beautiful the surrounding reefs were. Seven of us shared a small motorboat, including a few Spaniards, an Australian, and our comical captain. At the first stop, Turtle Bay off of Besar, I immediately regretted not having bought an underwater camera. A few huge (about 5ft long) green turtles surrounded the boat, occasionally popping their heads above water for air. We admired them for a few minutes and then hopped in to join them. The clear water made the turtles easy to spot and follow. It was hard not to admire the way they glide - almost fly - through the water. I was able to get so close to one that I was able to pet it when it came up for air.
Our next stop was a bit further down Besar. As we hopped in to the water, our captain threw bits of bread at us. We were immediately surrounded by hundreds of tropical fish of at least a dozen varieties. The tide was quite strong - and remained so for the rest of the day - but the fish were beautiful. There were far two many different species to count, from black and white striped fish to totally iridescent to neon. And then there were the sharks. Only small (2ft) reef sharks, but wild sharks nonetheless. At first it was a bit scary and exhilarating, but then it just became a challenge to follow them as they worked their way through the water.
Heading further south along Besar we stopped at another reef, probably the best, with absolutely gorgeous coral. Neon green brain-like coral and bright purple and brown coral shaped like clams. The variety of fish here was also better than at any other stop. I spotted an eel (electric?) eating a fish. A full-grown shark (6ft) swam right at me and got within fifteen or twenty feet, later catching an unlucky fish in an incredibly quick attack. This was certainly the best snorkeling I had ever done!
We had a leisurely lunch in Perhentian Village before making two more stops, neither of which featured anything remarkably different from what we had already scene. The last stop, however, was at the most beautiful beach I've ever seen. The color of the water was remarkable
and the sand was the finest I have ever felt. As a self-admitted mediocre swimmer, I was exhausted. I spent the remainder of the afternoon and the following morning relaxing on the beach and on the terrace of my bungalow.
On Thursday I took a boat back to Kuala Besut and caught a local bus down to Kuala Terengganu, from where I would catch my flight back to Kuala Lumpur. It was a slow, but enjoyable two-hour ride as we passed mosques and madrasas, farms, and big feasts celebrating the end of Ramadan. I had a few hours to kill before my flight, so I wandered over to a guesthouse. Because of Hari Raya - a festival in which most people go to their home villages in rural areas - the streets were absolutely empty. The guesthouse I went to was actually closed, but they let me drop my stuff off and even cooked some food for me.
With a bit of time, I wandered around town a bit. There was a beautiful mosque near the guesthouse as well as a really nice palace, used for official state functions. The streets were bizarrely empty though. There was absolutely nobody around. Other than the McDonald's, almost everything was closed. I did manage to find a few friendly vendors selling songkok, prayer mats, and a number of other Islamic goods. I stumbled into the small Chinatown and particularly enjoyed the variety of brightly painted windows at every shop front. Back at the guesthouse before my flight, I heard the call to prayer coming from the Zainal Abidin mosque at sunset. Not a bad way to end my brief stay in Kuala Terengganu
Our taxi driver turned out to be quite a character, a very good tour guide and an equally good insight into life in Malaysia. He provided a bit of background about himself and his nine children, Raya, the amount of freedom he has in Malaysia (he argued that he was incredibly free), crime, foreigners (and how the Perhentians are not a good place for family because of the scantily clad beach-goers) and so on.
An informative one hour ride later and we were at Kuala Besut, where we bought boat tickets to the Perhentians. On my more limited budget, I decided to go to Perhentian Kecil's Long Beach, more of a backpacker scene than the bigger Perhentian Besar. After a bouncy forty-five minute ride into the South China Sea we were between the two beautiful islands. The water was a surreal blue and the beaches were white, sandy and dotted with palm trees. Because of the upcoming Hari Raya, many of the bungalows and restaurants scattered across the beach were shuttered. I managed to find a nice bungalow right on the beach, grabbed lunch and spent most of the afternoon with my feet in the sand and the clear, blue and shallow waters. It was definitely a bit odd going straight from one of the most conservative cities in Malaysia to a beach of well-tanned, bikini wearing twenty-something westerners. That said, I knew the next few days were going to be the type of laid-back atmosphere I was looking for.
Later in the afternoon, I decided to walk over to Coral Bay on the other side of the island. It was a short walk with some interesting red-barked trees and a handful of monitor lizards. The other side was absolutely beautiful. Though the beach was a bit rockier, there was an idyllic pier extending out into the water. I spent at least two hours simply enjoying the view of the schools of fish in the water and the sunset over other islands in the distance. All of the guesthouses and restaurants at Coral Bay were closed so I was one of only a few people around. It was some of the most peaceful time I had on the whole trip. Heading back to the other side of Kecil, I had a pleasant dinner and a couple of beers at one of the two restaurants that was open and
called it a night.
On Wednesday morning I decided to go on a snorkeling trip and see just how beautiful the surrounding reefs were. Seven of us shared a small motorboat, including a few Spaniards, an Australian, and our comical captain. At the first stop, Turtle Bay off of Besar, I immediately regretted not having bought an underwater camera. A few huge (about 5ft long) green turtles surrounded the boat, occasionally popping their heads above water for air. We admired them for a few minutes and then hopped in to join them. The clear water made the turtles easy to spot and follow. It was hard not to admire the way they glide - almost fly - through the water. I was able to get so close to one that I was able to pet it when it came up for air.
Our next stop was a bit further down Besar. As we hopped in to the water, our captain threw bits of bread at us. We were immediately surrounded by hundreds of tropical fish of at least a dozen varieties. The tide was quite strong - and remained so for the rest of the day - but the fish were beautiful. There were far two many different species to count, from black and white striped fish to totally iridescent to neon. And then there were the sharks. Only small (2ft) reef sharks, but wild sharks nonetheless. At first it was a bit scary and exhilarating, but then it just became a challenge to follow them as they worked their way through the water.
Heading further south along Besar we stopped at another reef, probably the best, with absolutely gorgeous coral. Neon green brain-like coral and bright purple and brown coral shaped like clams. The variety of fish here was also better than at any other stop. I spotted an eel (electric?) eating a fish. A full-grown shark (6ft) swam right at me and got within fifteen or twenty feet, later catching an unlucky fish in an incredibly quick attack. This was certainly the best snorkeling I had ever done!
We had a leisurely lunch in Perhentian Village before making two more stops, neither of which featured anything remarkably different from what we had already scene. The last stop, however, was at the most beautiful beach I've ever seen. The color of the water was remarkable
and the sand was the finest I have ever felt. As a self-admitted mediocre swimmer, I was exhausted. I spent the remainder of the afternoon and the following morning relaxing on the beach and on the terrace of my bungalow.
On Thursday I took a boat back to Kuala Besut and caught a local bus down to Kuala Terengganu, from where I would catch my flight back to Kuala Lumpur. It was a slow, but enjoyable two-hour ride as we passed mosques and madrasas, farms, and big feasts celebrating the end of Ramadan. I had a few hours to kill before my flight, so I wandered over to a guesthouse. Because of Hari Raya - a festival in which most people go to their home villages in rural areas - the streets were absolutely empty. The guesthouse I went to was actually closed, but they let me drop my stuff off and even cooked some food for me.
With a bit of time, I wandered around town a bit. There was a beautiful mosque near the guesthouse as well as a really nice palace, used for official state functions. The streets were bizarrely empty though. There was absolutely nobody around. Other than the McDonald's, almost everything was closed. I did manage to find a few friendly vendors selling songkok, prayer mats, and a number of other Islamic goods. I stumbled into the small Chinatown and particularly enjoyed the variety of brightly painted windows at every shop front. Back at the guesthouse before my flight, I heard the call to prayer coming from the Zainal Abidin mosque at sunset. Not a bad way to end my brief stay in Kuala Terengganu
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Malaysia Part III: The Jungle Railway and Kota Bharu
At 9am on Monday morning I caught a wooden longboat back to Kuala Tembeling and out of Taman Negara. There really is no way to describe the boat ride other than extremely pleasant. Other than spotting a few colorful birds, I enjoyed the sun on my shoulders and the peaceful ride. Once back in Kuala Tembeling, I caught a bus to Jerantut, the town that is, for many, a launching pad to Taman Negara.
In Jerantut by lunch time, I walked over to the train station to catch the so-called "Jungle Railway" up to Kota Bharu. The railway is notoriously slow, stopping at countless stations as it makes the journey from Gemas in southern Malaysia to Kota Bharu in the north. That said, it is supposedly a beautiful ride through pristine jungle and rainforest and passing by small town Malaysia and magnificent caves and limestone outcroppings. Regardless of its pros or cons, I wanted the Jungle Railway to be my mode of transport northbound.
When arriving at the ticket counter, however, I was told that all classes were sold out for the 12:45pm train because of the fast approaching Hari Raya (the feasts that accompany the end of Ramadan). Alternatively, I could take an 11:00pm or 1:00am express train, but that would defeat one of the main reasons I wanted to take the train - to see the sights and get a taste of rural life in Malaysia. I could also take the bus, but that, to me, was equally unappealing. I asked if there was any way that I could get on the 12:45pm train. It turned out that there was. If I paid double the regular fare (25RM or about $7.50) I could get on the train without a guaranteed seat. I'd say it was a pretty raw deal, but it was my best option.
I waited on the platform for a half hour until the train rumbled up to the station. As I got on to the car I asked if I was permitted to sit in an unoccupied seat, dashing towards some of the few open ones once I received a reply in the affirmative. Just after settling and as we were about to leave, the ticket holder for my seat appeared and I was forced to move. However, I found a seat (in fact, two!) within the same car. Thankfully, I was able to retain these two seats to myself for the duration of the lengthy journey.
Initially, before it started raining and the sun went down, it was extraordinarily hot. And smelly. (I detected a healthy mix of vomit and B.O.). Once I got used to it, however, I was able to appreciate my surroundings, both within and outside the train. The train itself was relatively clean and modern, with restrooms on either end of the car and comfortable seats with a decent amount of legroom. I was the only westerner in the car, with the rest of the travelers appearing Malaysian with a sprinkling of passengers of Indian descent. Almost all of the women on the train were dressed conservatively, wearing headscarves and baju kurung, a beautiful, long and flowing silk tunic and skirt covering everything below the wearer's neck except their hands and feet.
The view outside the train was beautiful. We passed through small towns, palm oil and rubber plantations, pristine forest, rivers, mountains, caves, and particularly interesting limestone outcroppings (especially around Gua Musang). As the train ride went on, I noticed that the girl in front of me, sitting next to her mother, kept turning around and smiling at me flirtatiously. She finally got up the courage to say something to me in perfect English, of course: "Your eyes are very beautiful." I thanked her and we talked here and there over the next several hours. My spelling could be way off, but her name was roughly Azien and she was nine years old with chubby checks and warm eyes. She was very curious about what I was doing in Malaysia, where I was from, where I was going, and so on. Each time she had something to ask me, her head would pop up above the seat and she'd say "Uncle, uncle!" to get my attention. Her mother, Kelaya, was also very friendly and even invited me to stay the night at their house and spend Raya with them. Their house was a bit out of the way and, with limited time, I had to politely decline her offer.
After about nine hours we finally arrived in Wakaf Bharu, the closest stop to Kota Bharu. I caught a taxi into town and managed to find a decent hotel, Suria, which had a nice-sized room, cable television, hot water, and air conditioning (all for only $18). Starving, I headed for the night market. Even though it was now almost 11:00pm, the market was absolutely packed and incredibly vibrant. I was the only white person around and it seemed that everyone else was Muslim and wearing traditional dress. The women were wearing beautiful silk baju kurung of all colors and admiring those up for sale at the market and the men were all trying on new songkok (traditional head covering). The market was just so full of life! I think this was the first time that I truly felt I was in Malaysia. Although I did attract some suspecting glances, I never felt the least bit unsafe, in part because I knew that, unlike Cambodia, no one around me was drinking. It was quite a nice feeling.
Having perused the market for snacks and finding nothing but dried fish and baked goods, I headed back towards the hotel where I had seen a street vendor. There was a long line, so I knew it had to be good. Moreover, I hadn't really eaten any street food yet and the culinary selections in Taman Negara were somewhat limited. When I got to the front, it was not traditional Malay fare on offer, but hamburgers with a Malaysian twist. I got two of them and joined others on the street to chow down. Not the most traditional meal, but it certainly satisfied my stomach.
Following a good night's sleep and my first hot shower since arriving, I set out to explore Kota Bharu in the daylight. There were some interesting architectural sights, including some beautiful museums and a palace. Most of the action, though, was in the morning market, a circularly domed market with a ring of meat and fish vendors around the outside and vegetable vendors in the middle. Like the market the night before, it was incredibly lively and very-well organized. I spent a good half an hour on the second level just watching the activity below.
Though I wished I could stay in Kota Bharu a bit longer, I had packed a lot in to the twelve hours I was there and I was ready to hit the beach at Pulau Perhentian.
In Jerantut by lunch time, I walked over to the train station to catch the so-called "Jungle Railway" up to Kota Bharu. The railway is notoriously slow, stopping at countless stations as it makes the journey from Gemas in southern Malaysia to Kota Bharu in the north. That said, it is supposedly a beautiful ride through pristine jungle and rainforest and passing by small town Malaysia and magnificent caves and limestone outcroppings. Regardless of its pros or cons, I wanted the Jungle Railway to be my mode of transport northbound.
When arriving at the ticket counter, however, I was told that all classes were sold out for the 12:45pm train because of the fast approaching Hari Raya (the feasts that accompany the end of Ramadan). Alternatively, I could take an 11:00pm or 1:00am express train, but that would defeat one of the main reasons I wanted to take the train - to see the sights and get a taste of rural life in Malaysia. I could also take the bus, but that, to me, was equally unappealing. I asked if there was any way that I could get on the 12:45pm train. It turned out that there was. If I paid double the regular fare (25RM or about $7.50) I could get on the train without a guaranteed seat. I'd say it was a pretty raw deal, but it was my best option.
I waited on the platform for a half hour until the train rumbled up to the station. As I got on to the car I asked if I was permitted to sit in an unoccupied seat, dashing towards some of the few open ones once I received a reply in the affirmative. Just after settling and as we were about to leave, the ticket holder for my seat appeared and I was forced to move. However, I found a seat (in fact, two!) within the same car. Thankfully, I was able to retain these two seats to myself for the duration of the lengthy journey.
Initially, before it started raining and the sun went down, it was extraordinarily hot. And smelly. (I detected a healthy mix of vomit and B.O.). Once I got used to it, however, I was able to appreciate my surroundings, both within and outside the train. The train itself was relatively clean and modern, with restrooms on either end of the car and comfortable seats with a decent amount of legroom. I was the only westerner in the car, with the rest of the travelers appearing Malaysian with a sprinkling of passengers of Indian descent. Almost all of the women on the train were dressed conservatively, wearing headscarves and baju kurung, a beautiful, long and flowing silk tunic and skirt covering everything below the wearer's neck except their hands and feet.
The view outside the train was beautiful. We passed through small towns, palm oil and rubber plantations, pristine forest, rivers, mountains, caves, and particularly interesting limestone outcroppings (especially around Gua Musang). As the train ride went on, I noticed that the girl in front of me, sitting next to her mother, kept turning around and smiling at me flirtatiously. She finally got up the courage to say something to me in perfect English, of course: "Your eyes are very beautiful." I thanked her and we talked here and there over the next several hours. My spelling could be way off, but her name was roughly Azien and she was nine years old with chubby checks and warm eyes. She was very curious about what I was doing in Malaysia, where I was from, where I was going, and so on. Each time she had something to ask me, her head would pop up above the seat and she'd say "Uncle, uncle!" to get my attention. Her mother, Kelaya, was also very friendly and even invited me to stay the night at their house and spend Raya with them. Their house was a bit out of the way and, with limited time, I had to politely decline her offer.
After about nine hours we finally arrived in Wakaf Bharu, the closest stop to Kota Bharu. I caught a taxi into town and managed to find a decent hotel, Suria, which had a nice-sized room, cable television, hot water, and air conditioning (all for only $18). Starving, I headed for the night market. Even though it was now almost 11:00pm, the market was absolutely packed and incredibly vibrant. I was the only white person around and it seemed that everyone else was Muslim and wearing traditional dress. The women were wearing beautiful silk baju kurung of all colors and admiring those up for sale at the market and the men were all trying on new songkok (traditional head covering). The market was just so full of life! I think this was the first time that I truly felt I was in Malaysia. Although I did attract some suspecting glances, I never felt the least bit unsafe, in part because I knew that, unlike Cambodia, no one around me was drinking. It was quite a nice feeling.
Having perused the market for snacks and finding nothing but dried fish and baked goods, I headed back towards the hotel where I had seen a street vendor. There was a long line, so I knew it had to be good. Moreover, I hadn't really eaten any street food yet and the culinary selections in Taman Negara were somewhat limited. When I got to the front, it was not traditional Malay fare on offer, but hamburgers with a Malaysian twist. I got two of them and joined others on the street to chow down. Not the most traditional meal, but it certainly satisfied my stomach.
Following a good night's sleep and my first hot shower since arriving, I set out to explore Kota Bharu in the daylight. There were some interesting architectural sights, including some beautiful museums and a palace. Most of the action, though, was in the morning market, a circularly domed market with a ring of meat and fish vendors around the outside and vegetable vendors in the middle. Like the market the night before, it was incredibly lively and very-well organized. I spent a good half an hour on the second level just watching the activity below.
Though I wished I could stay in Kota Bharu a bit longer, I had packed a lot in to the twelve hours I was there and I was ready to hit the beach at Pulau Perhentian.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Malaysia Part II: Taman Negara
On Saturday morning I hopped on the overly air conditioned bus and set off for Taman Negara, which is widely believed to be the oldest pristine rainforest in the world (at 120 million years old, it was unaffected by the ice ages). For the most part, it was a very enjoyable ride. We passed Bantu Caves, a huge limestone outcrop of caves in the suburbs of Kuala Lumpur and, once outside the city, everything was incredibly lush. There were small towns, but it seemed like we were out in the middle of pristine rainforest, dotted with palm oil and rubber plantations, for the duration of the journey. That said, there were some interesting contrasts, in particular the signs notifying travelers of approaching rest stops. For the most part, the signs looked completely normal - petrol, lodging, bathroom, food - but at each stop and often next to one of the fast food establishments (McDonald's) was the symbol for a mosque. Now, not every rest stop actually had a mosque, but each had a room dedicated to prayer.
After a three-hour bus ride we arrived in Kuala Terembeling, the ferry launching point to actually enter Taman Negara. I grabbed a mediocre fried noodle lunch and hung out on the riverfront, enjoying the relaxing silence that surrounded me. People arrived at a steady pace until there were about thirty of us ready to head to the park. Our luggage was hauled down the steep embankment by a mine-like cart as two porters held on.
In groups of ten we were loaded on to three wooden longboats with motors, cushions, and life preservers (which we were asked to wear for the duration of the journey). Once we left the area surrounding the small town of Kuala Terembeling, it was a beautiful boat ride. The water was quite murky, but the rainforest was lush and dense and often accompanied by inviting sandbars. As we got closer, I spotted a few monkeys hanging out on a limb over and a number of cool birds, many of which swooped and dove around the water and through the trees without any seeming method to their madness.
While beautiful, after almost two hours, I was antsy to get moving. At about 4:00pm we arrived in Kuala Tahan, a small village that sits across the river from Taman Negara. I scurried up the rocky beach to find a place to stay for the night, ending up in a decent, but characterless bungalow a bit off the beaten track. I spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing, treating myself to ice cream (something I did a few too many times on my trip), and making a stop at the ranger station across the river to figure out what would be feasible over the next day. With the advice of a helpful ranger, I decided to spend the morning doing a short loop and the afternoon hiking out to a hide to spend the night. With not too much to do for the remainder of the evening, I crashed pretty early.
Planning to get the day started shortly after sunrise, I was awake while it was still dark out. I took a quick cold shower to wake myself up, threw on some lightweight canvas pants and set off across the river for the park. I had wanted to get some water before crossing, but nothing was open yet, so I was forced to make a stop at the resort by the ranger station. It cost $6.50RM (about $2) for a half liter bottle of water, the equivalent of which cost merely $1RM on the other side of the river. Ridiculous!
Anyways, I set off to the loop to the Canopy Walk and Bukit Teresek in reverse as the Canopy Walk didn't open until 9:30am. As soon as I was off the property of the resort and in the rainforest, I was absolutely drenched with sweat. I was surrounded by the sounds of dozens of kinds of insects calling out, the chirp of several kinds of birds, and an occasional rustling in the trees indicating the presence of a monkey. The sounds were so peaceful and authentic, it was hard not to just stand there and enjoy them.
Initially the terrain was pretty flat, but the path was criss-crossed by the roots of trees in all directions. About ten minutes in to my hike, I heard some rustling in the dense forest; something brown and with a stubby tail about the size of an average dog darted off away from me. I later found out it was probably a barking deer, not all that uncommon, but more than most people see, especially that close to park headquarters. As I cut away from the river, I headed straight up Bukit Teresek, a steep climb for a view of the surrounding rainforest. It didn't matter that it was only 9am, it was hot and more humid than DC at its worst.
Once I made it to the top, the view of Kuala Tahan was completely shrouded by fog. Enjoying the quiet, I relaxed for a minute before going to the far side of the hill. Though there was still much fog on the other side, the hills of the rainforest beyond peeked out above. Surprisingly exhausted, I sat for a minute to enjoy the silence and check out how many leeches I had picked up on my way up. Three brown leeches managed to wriggle through my wool socks and had grown from perhaps half an inch to three inches. Though a nuisance, they didn't really hurt and I was easily able to flick them off (their extremely effective anti-coagulant, however, ensured that I continued to bleed for another few hours).
From Bukit Teresek, I headed down to the Canopy Walk. I had seen some pictures of the Canopy Walk and I thought it was one bridge strung between two trees at canopy level, 75 feet above the ground. I was also expecting it the Canopy Walk to be quite touristy and over-hyped.
When I arrived, however, I was told by park staff that there were a total of ten bridges strung between the trees, some of them over 100 feet long. I climbed a wooden staircase to begin the walk. The setup was impressive if not a little discomforting: a v-shaped net of rope with metal ladders topped by wooden planks and strung with some metal cables between the two trees. Though it looked quite secure, it bounced up and down and swung side to side with every step. As someone susceptible to being afraid of heights, it was certainly a test. As I walked on, however, I enjoyed it quite a lot. I was one of only a few people on the walk at the time, and the sights and sounds were certainly worth taking in. I spotted a large monitor lizard on one of the first bridges, a number of birds, and some very prehistoric-looking plants.
Having completed the Canopy Walk, I set off for the final part of my morning loop. Almost back to park headquarters, I was started by a wild peacock, walking right across the path in front of me. It allowed me within ten feet before it disappeared into the thick forest surrounding the path.
Back at my guesthouse, I took a well-deserved shower, changed clothes, and treated myself to a big lunch before setting back off on the trail. I headed for Bumbin Blau, a hide a few kilometers from park headquarters, where I planned to spend the evening and hopefully to see some wild animals. The hike - especially with a full pack - was quite strenuous and, again, I was drenched. Aside from the plant life - blue ferns, giant trees, and vines intertwined with other plants and crossing over the path - and the sounds, it wasn't too exciting, but it was just nice to get out there and enjoy the rainforest. As I approached the hide the path was blocked by a large downed tree. I was able to find the path on the other side, but immediately following, another large tree was down. I tried to hack my way through the forest, but on my own and unable to find the path on the other side, I reluctantly headed back to Kuala Tahan.
Since I wasn't able to spend a full night in the rainforest, I decided to go on a night safari - a 4x4 ride through a nearby palm oil plantation. Ten of us packed into a pickup truck, with the driver inside, six in the back and three on the roof (including me and a spotter, with a bright spot light). For a while it seemed as if the only thing we would see was the house cat we saw on the way in to the plantation. However, we soon saw a six foot long baby python, two leopard cats (about the size of house cats, but with the same spots as leopards), two wild pigs, some kind of fox, and a few different kind of birds. It was pretty cool and I definitely enjoyed riding on top of the pickup truck (don't worry Mom, we were only going a few miles an hour).
Exhausted, I crashed hard and prepared to head back to Kuala Terembeling the next morning and on to Jerantut and the "Jungle Railway" up to Kota Bharu in the northeast of peninsular Malaysia.
After a three-hour bus ride we arrived in Kuala Terembeling, the ferry launching point to actually enter Taman Negara. I grabbed a mediocre fried noodle lunch and hung out on the riverfront, enjoying the relaxing silence that surrounded me. People arrived at a steady pace until there were about thirty of us ready to head to the park. Our luggage was hauled down the steep embankment by a mine-like cart as two porters held on.
In groups of ten we were loaded on to three wooden longboats with motors, cushions, and life preservers (which we were asked to wear for the duration of the journey). Once we left the area surrounding the small town of Kuala Terembeling, it was a beautiful boat ride. The water was quite murky, but the rainforest was lush and dense and often accompanied by inviting sandbars. As we got closer, I spotted a few monkeys hanging out on a limb over and a number of cool birds, many of which swooped and dove around the water and through the trees without any seeming method to their madness.
While beautiful, after almost two hours, I was antsy to get moving. At about 4:00pm we arrived in Kuala Tahan, a small village that sits across the river from Taman Negara. I scurried up the rocky beach to find a place to stay for the night, ending up in a decent, but characterless bungalow a bit off the beaten track. I spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing, treating myself to ice cream (something I did a few too many times on my trip), and making a stop at the ranger station across the river to figure out what would be feasible over the next day. With the advice of a helpful ranger, I decided to spend the morning doing a short loop and the afternoon hiking out to a hide to spend the night. With not too much to do for the remainder of the evening, I crashed pretty early.
Planning to get the day started shortly after sunrise, I was awake while it was still dark out. I took a quick cold shower to wake myself up, threw on some lightweight canvas pants and set off across the river for the park. I had wanted to get some water before crossing, but nothing was open yet, so I was forced to make a stop at the resort by the ranger station. It cost $6.50RM (about $2) for a half liter bottle of water, the equivalent of which cost merely $1RM on the other side of the river. Ridiculous!
Anyways, I set off to the loop to the Canopy Walk and Bukit Teresek in reverse as the Canopy Walk didn't open until 9:30am. As soon as I was off the property of the resort and in the rainforest, I was absolutely drenched with sweat. I was surrounded by the sounds of dozens of kinds of insects calling out, the chirp of several kinds of birds, and an occasional rustling in the trees indicating the presence of a monkey. The sounds were so peaceful and authentic, it was hard not to just stand there and enjoy them.
Initially the terrain was pretty flat, but the path was criss-crossed by the roots of trees in all directions. About ten minutes in to my hike, I heard some rustling in the dense forest; something brown and with a stubby tail about the size of an average dog darted off away from me. I later found out it was probably a barking deer, not all that uncommon, but more than most people see, especially that close to park headquarters. As I cut away from the river, I headed straight up Bukit Teresek, a steep climb for a view of the surrounding rainforest. It didn't matter that it was only 9am, it was hot and more humid than DC at its worst.
Once I made it to the top, the view of Kuala Tahan was completely shrouded by fog. Enjoying the quiet, I relaxed for a minute before going to the far side of the hill. Though there was still much fog on the other side, the hills of the rainforest beyond peeked out above. Surprisingly exhausted, I sat for a minute to enjoy the silence and check out how many leeches I had picked up on my way up. Three brown leeches managed to wriggle through my wool socks and had grown from perhaps half an inch to three inches. Though a nuisance, they didn't really hurt and I was easily able to flick them off (their extremely effective anti-coagulant, however, ensured that I continued to bleed for another few hours).
From Bukit Teresek, I headed down to the Canopy Walk. I had seen some pictures of the Canopy Walk and I thought it was one bridge strung between two trees at canopy level, 75 feet above the ground. I was also expecting it the Canopy Walk to be quite touristy and over-hyped.
When I arrived, however, I was told by park staff that there were a total of ten bridges strung between the trees, some of them over 100 feet long. I climbed a wooden staircase to begin the walk. The setup was impressive if not a little discomforting: a v-shaped net of rope with metal ladders topped by wooden planks and strung with some metal cables between the two trees. Though it looked quite secure, it bounced up and down and swung side to side with every step. As someone susceptible to being afraid of heights, it was certainly a test. As I walked on, however, I enjoyed it quite a lot. I was one of only a few people on the walk at the time, and the sights and sounds were certainly worth taking in. I spotted a large monitor lizard on one of the first bridges, a number of birds, and some very prehistoric-looking plants.
Having completed the Canopy Walk, I set off for the final part of my morning loop. Almost back to park headquarters, I was started by a wild peacock, walking right across the path in front of me. It allowed me within ten feet before it disappeared into the thick forest surrounding the path.
Back at my guesthouse, I took a well-deserved shower, changed clothes, and treated myself to a big lunch before setting back off on the trail. I headed for Bumbin Blau, a hide a few kilometers from park headquarters, where I planned to spend the evening and hopefully to see some wild animals. The hike - especially with a full pack - was quite strenuous and, again, I was drenched. Aside from the plant life - blue ferns, giant trees, and vines intertwined with other plants and crossing over the path - and the sounds, it wasn't too exciting, but it was just nice to get out there and enjoy the rainforest. As I approached the hide the path was blocked by a large downed tree. I was able to find the path on the other side, but immediately following, another large tree was down. I tried to hack my way through the forest, but on my own and unable to find the path on the other side, I reluctantly headed back to Kuala Tahan.
Since I wasn't able to spend a full night in the rainforest, I decided to go on a night safari - a 4x4 ride through a nearby palm oil plantation. Ten of us packed into a pickup truck, with the driver inside, six in the back and three on the roof (including me and a spotter, with a bright spot light). For a while it seemed as if the only thing we would see was the house cat we saw on the way in to the plantation. However, we soon saw a six foot long baby python, two leopard cats (about the size of house cats, but with the same spots as leopards), two wild pigs, some kind of fox, and a few different kind of birds. It was pretty cool and I definitely enjoyed riding on top of the pickup truck (don't worry Mom, we were only going a few miles an hour).
Exhausted, I crashed hard and prepared to head back to Kuala Terembeling the next morning and on to Jerantut and the "Jungle Railway" up to Kota Bharu in the northeast of peninsular Malaysia.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Malaysia Part I: Arrival in Kuala Lumpur
Two weeks ago, I shipped out to Malaysia for the Pchum Ben holiday. In a word, the trip was fantastic. But this being a blog, I'm guessing that just a word won't do. Over the next few entries I'll try to provide the details of my trip. I hope you enjoy.
Leaving Phnom Penh on the Friday afternoon before Pchum Ben was quite amusing. At the airport were close to a dozen people I knew, heading off for Thailand and Laos. There were very few westerners on my flight to Kuala Lumpur, but I happened to know a couple of them through a friend. The AirAsia flight, although a little late, was uneventful aside from the fact that I sat next to a very flirtatious Cambodian woman and her mother. That was a little bizarre.
Upon arriving in Kuala Lumpur, I made it through customs without a problem (though everyone seems to take a long look at that Afghanistan visa…) and got my pack and joined the other people I knew to share a cab into town. We first stopped at an ATM which was, of course, broken. As we waited for it to be fixed, a passerby informed us that there more ATMs inside. When I stepped over the red velvet barrier surrounding the ATM line, however, I knocked down the whole series of stands – perhaps about ten. Not even an hour in Malaysia, and I’m already causing trouble, not a good sign of things to come.
After successfully taking money out, we found our cab and began the long journey into town (for some reason, the Malaysian authorities decided to put the airport 60km from Kuala Lumpur). My travel companions were meeting a friend and I decided to tag along hoping he would have a suggestion of a cheap place to stay.
The infrastructure leaving the airport was very impressive. Lit ten-lane highways with a speed limit of 110km/j (the “j” stands for jam, hour in Malay). As we got closer to town, high-rise apartment buildings dotted the landscape and we could see the beautiful Petronas Towers and the Telekom Malaysia tower.
We arrived in Kuala Lumpur a bit after 10pm and I set off looking for a guesthouse following recommendations. I first stopped at some of the specific ones that were suggested. All three were fully booked. But each was helpful in pointing out other guesthouses in the area that may have vacancies. One guesthouse owner even used her cell phone to call a few different places to see what was available close by. I followed her advice and stayed at a mediocre place called Trekker Lodge in a dorm (all that was available).
Before crashing for the night, I booked a bus and boat to Taman Negara, my destination the following morning.
I woke up early on Saturday morning and headed to an ATM to take a bit more money out. Diagonally across the street from my guesthouse was a small food stall, busy with people getting their morning coffee. As I passed by, I was greeted by a handful of transvestites (or “man-ladies” as the locals call them) and was invited to join them. I politely declined much to their disappointment. Returning from the ATM, I was again solicited for company (and even chased!). I uncomfortably headed back to the guesthouse where I caught a minivan to the bus station.
Since I was a bit early, I had a little time to wander around Chinatown. The streets were not yet bustling, but many vendors were setting up their stalls and shops and the food stalls – with noodles, soups, and fried goods (like donuts and curry puffs) – were preparing for the morning onslaught. I also stumbled upon a bizarre second-hand market in a very narrow alley. A mix of Malay, Indian, and Chinese men (Malaysia's diversity amazed me throughout my trip) - huddled over blankets spread on the ground selling the most random assortment of goods I've ever seen assembled in one place. On a piece of cloth of only a few square feet one individual seller would have jeans, DVDs, antique-like trinkets, car parts, and a hodgepodge of other items, none of which looked particularly appealing. With the bus leaving shortly, I headed back to the station and got ready for my trip to the oldest rainforest in the world.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Road Rage
So I said I wasn't going to write any more blog entries until I got back from Malaysia and believe me, that was my intent. But my commute to work today got my blood boiling. Today is Constitution Day - one of twenty-eight national holidays - and the swearing in for the National Assembly (you may remember that the elections were held in July); although there has been some controversy surrounding the swearing in - the two main opposition parties are planning to boycott what they deem a fraudulent election - there is no reason for the government to be concerned about major incidents.
Without the day off, I didn't realize it was a public holiday and I set off for work at my normal time, at about 7:15. As I headed down Sihanouk Blvd. across Monivong, all seemed normal. When I arrived at Norodom, however, the street ahead of me was blocked, which is not entirely unusual. So I headed south on Norodom to 294, a route I often take to work. Street 294, however, was also closed. So I headed north to Street 240. When I arrived at Street 19, however, the road was blocked in two directions (naturally the two directions that lead to my office): Street 240 heading east towards Sothearos and Street 19 heading south back towards Sihanouk.
I tried to push my bike through, but a military policeman stopped me. In Khmer, I told him that I needed to go to work. He said I would have to wait like everyone else and believe me, there were a lot of people waiting. I said, again in Khmer, that they can't just close all of the major roads in the city. He just looked at me with contempt. Finally, a few motos trickled through the barricade going east on 240 and I was able to push my bicycle past, though as I did so I knoced the MPs helmet off his bike. He pointed to it and not wanting an incident I picked it up, muttering insults under my breath as I peddled off.
Going east on 240, I turned right just before Sothearos to pass in front of Wat Botum and headed back towards Sihanouk. Again I was met by a roadblock, but I was able to convince the police to let me through as my office was now literally across the street. The 1.5km bike ride took me nearly thirty minutes and now, over an hour later the roads are still closed and are likely to remain so for the next several hours.
Why would the government close access to some of the most major thoroughfares in the city? A show of strength? Security? To me, it's quite ironic in that it is displays of force like this - where the best interest of the people is nowhere on the government's radar - that actually make people think about creating security incidents in the first place. It is no wonder that Cambodians, especially those living in Phnom Penh are extremely cynical about everything government-related.
UPDATE: More than three hours after the roads closed, they were reopened at about 10:35am.
UPDATE 2: The roads closed again this afternoon from 1:45pm to 5:15pm. I got stuck by the Independence Monument for fifteen minutes as Excellencies whizzed by in their motorcades of Lexuses and Mercedes. My Cambodian colleagues tell me that it will be like this for the next two days. Unbelievable.
Without the day off, I didn't realize it was a public holiday and I set off for work at my normal time, at about 7:15. As I headed down Sihanouk Blvd. across Monivong, all seemed normal. When I arrived at Norodom, however, the street ahead of me was blocked, which is not entirely unusual. So I headed south on Norodom to 294, a route I often take to work. Street 294, however, was also closed. So I headed north to Street 240. When I arrived at Street 19, however, the road was blocked in two directions (naturally the two directions that lead to my office): Street 240 heading east towards Sothearos and Street 19 heading south back towards Sihanouk.
I tried to push my bike through, but a military policeman stopped me. In Khmer, I told him that I needed to go to work. He said I would have to wait like everyone else and believe me, there were a lot of people waiting. I said, again in Khmer, that they can't just close all of the major roads in the city. He just looked at me with contempt. Finally, a few motos trickled through the barricade going east on 240 and I was able to push my bicycle past, though as I did so I knoced the MPs helmet off his bike. He pointed to it and not wanting an incident I picked it up, muttering insults under my breath as I peddled off.
Going east on 240, I turned right just before Sothearos to pass in front of Wat Botum and headed back towards Sihanouk. Again I was met by a roadblock, but I was able to convince the police to let me through as my office was now literally across the street. The 1.5km bike ride took me nearly thirty minutes and now, over an hour later the roads are still closed and are likely to remain so for the next several hours.
Why would the government close access to some of the most major thoroughfares in the city? A show of strength? Security? To me, it's quite ironic in that it is displays of force like this - where the best interest of the people is nowhere on the government's radar - that actually make people think about creating security incidents in the first place. It is no wonder that Cambodians, especially those living in Phnom Penh are extremely cynical about everything government-related.
UPDATE: More than three hours after the roads closed, they were reopened at about 10:35am.
UPDATE 2: The roads closed again this afternoon from 1:45pm to 5:15pm. I got stuck by the Independence Monument for fifteen minutes as Excellencies whizzed by in their motorcades of Lexuses and Mercedes. My Cambodian colleagues tell me that it will be like this for the next two days. Unbelievable.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
MIA
Sorry I've been so MIA on the posting. I've been absolutely swamped at work for the past couple of weeks - an excuse I can use only so many times. The good news is that things should now be simmering down. The bad news, at least in the short term, is that I'm heading to Malaysia for vacation on Friday for about a week, which means no posting for a little while longer. However, it should mean that I'll have some great stories upon my return. Thanks for bearing with me.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Spoiled Rotten
For those of you that follow this blog regularly and especially for those of you that have come to visit, you know that Shanti and I are not exactly roughing it here and, in fact, we're living quite comfortably. We are by no means near the top of the economic stratosphere, either Cambodian or expat. We have yet to get a Lexus, do not yet own a mansion, and do not sport the same amount of bling as the typical Cambodian elite. Moreover, we do not have a housing allowance or get home leave, we do most of our own cooking, eating out only occasionally, and we clean our own house. That is, until now.
After a month of strenuous work schedules and several weekends of travel, our apartment was an absolute mess. The floors were dusty, the kitchen and bathrooms were grimy, and things were just generally in disorder. Expecting our busy schedules continue over the next several months and not wanting to live in filth any longer, we caved and hired some cleaning help. Although we felt guilty about getting someone else to do our dirty work for us, we saw it as an opportunity to provide our wonderful tuk-tuk driver - Red, who I've mentioned before - and his family a bit more money.
This past Sunday morning, Red's wife and daughter and one of their neighbors came over. Over a period of about five hours, they did the most thorough cleaning this apartment has probably ever seen. They did everything from the basics - floors and bathrooms - to the minute - taking apart and cleaning our electric fans - to my least favorite task - ironing my pants and shirts. As guilty as I felt about having someone else clean our apartment for us, they got it much cleaner than we ever would have been able. It's also possible to think about it in terms of helping Red's daughter, an exceedingly bright young Cambodian, save some additional money so that she might have the opportunity to go to college. Regardless, I think it's a scenario in which everyone wins. Or at least that's what I'm going to tell myself as we get spoiled rotten.
After a month of strenuous work schedules and several weekends of travel, our apartment was an absolute mess. The floors were dusty, the kitchen and bathrooms were grimy, and things were just generally in disorder. Expecting our busy schedules continue over the next several months and not wanting to live in filth any longer, we caved and hired some cleaning help. Although we felt guilty about getting someone else to do our dirty work for us, we saw it as an opportunity to provide our wonderful tuk-tuk driver - Red, who I've mentioned before - and his family a bit more money.
This past Sunday morning, Red's wife and daughter and one of their neighbors came over. Over a period of about five hours, they did the most thorough cleaning this apartment has probably ever seen. They did everything from the basics - floors and bathrooms - to the minute - taking apart and cleaning our electric fans - to my least favorite task - ironing my pants and shirts. As guilty as I felt about having someone else clean our apartment for us, they got it much cleaner than we ever would have been able. It's also possible to think about it in terms of helping Red's daughter, an exceedingly bright young Cambodian, save some additional money so that she might have the opportunity to go to college. Regardless, I think it's a scenario in which everyone wins. Or at least that's what I'm going to tell myself as we get spoiled rotten.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Odd Occurrences
This past Friday marked a string of bizarre incidents which I feel are worthy of sharing. First, on Friday morning I got sick. It doesn't sound that odd, I know, but, as many of you know, I pride myself on having a god-like immune system. A cough and stuffy nose were soon accompanied by a fever, headache, body aches, and nausea. I managed to last through the entire work day, but spent the entire weekend in bed with all of the above symptoms, each staying with me through Monday morning despite medication.
Now I don't mean to imply that when I get sick, things get wacky, but weird things were definitely happening on Friday afternoon. At around 3:30 as the monsoon rain clouds formed in the sky, I looked out my office window - with a pretty good view of downtown Phnom Penh I might add - and noticed a small funnel dropping partly from the clouds toward the ground. Although the funnel remained at least 100 feet off the ground while it lasted, it was quite surreal. From what I know and have heard, Phnom Penh does not experience regular tornadoes. The funnel floated in the sky for about half an hour and then disappeared. Unfortunately, I did not have my camera with me at work to capture it.
Shortly after the funnel incident and with my ailments seemingly getting worse, I headed home. As usual, I unlocked my bicycle in the parking lot and started riding out of the main entrance to the Phnom Penh Center office building complex. I have a pretty good relationship with all of the security guards that man the small motorbike parking lot as well as the ticket booth for cars - they usually smile at me, ask me how I'm doing, and poke fun at the fact that I ride around on a bicycle. As I biked by on Friday, however, the three guards by the ticket booth jumped back from their chairs in three different directions. I stopped and couldn't help but giggle at how ridiculous - and well-coordinated - their leaps had been. It was not until I stopped that I noticed a long and slender neon green snake slithering up one of the guard's motos. Luckily no one was bitten.
Now I don't mean to imply that when I get sick, things get wacky, but weird things were definitely happening on Friday afternoon. At around 3:30 as the monsoon rain clouds formed in the sky, I looked out my office window - with a pretty good view of downtown Phnom Penh I might add - and noticed a small funnel dropping partly from the clouds toward the ground. Although the funnel remained at least 100 feet off the ground while it lasted, it was quite surreal. From what I know and have heard, Phnom Penh does not experience regular tornadoes. The funnel floated in the sky for about half an hour and then disappeared. Unfortunately, I did not have my camera with me at work to capture it.
Shortly after the funnel incident and with my ailments seemingly getting worse, I headed home. As usual, I unlocked my bicycle in the parking lot and started riding out of the main entrance to the Phnom Penh Center office building complex. I have a pretty good relationship with all of the security guards that man the small motorbike parking lot as well as the ticket booth for cars - they usually smile at me, ask me how I'm doing, and poke fun at the fact that I ride around on a bicycle. As I biked by on Friday, however, the three guards by the ticket booth jumped back from their chairs in three different directions. I stopped and couldn't help but giggle at how ridiculous - and well-coordinated - their leaps had been. It was not until I stopped that I noticed a long and slender neon green snake slithering up one of the guard's motos. Luckily no one was bitten.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Quote for the Day
At Physique Club in the Cambodiana Hotel a new list of rules and regulations has been prominently posted. I found one of the rules particularly humorous:
"Please use deodorize if necessary. (Foul body odor is offensive)."
I can't say I disagree, but I am very curious as to how this will be enforced.
"Please use deodorize if necessary. (Foul body odor is offensive)."
I can't say I disagree, but I am very curious as to how this will be enforced.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
A Fish "Massage"
This past Sunday we headed for another of Phnom Penh's bizarre offerings: a fish "massage." Popular in Malaysia, recently opened in the Washington, DC area and, oddly enough, of Turkish origin, the fish massage entails sticking your feet into a pool with several hundred garra rufa fish or "doctor fish" which nibble at your dead skin, essentially giving you a pedicure. We knew of several people who had been before - a few in Malaysia and a few in Phnom Penh - each of which found the experience worthwhile.
So it was on Sunday morning that we headed to Monorom Professional Massage with a group of five other friends. We were welcomed by a staff of several and ushered into a unisex changing room. Once inside, we were given lockers and issued our outfits. The girls were given bike shorts and sports bras and the guys were given incredibly small and tight bike shorts. The only time I'd ever worn something so tight was when I was too young to dress myself and was issued a Speedo as a bathing suit by my parents. In addition to our "swim" gear, we were given silk robes and shorts which made me feel as if I were prepping for a kickboxing fight.
Once changed we were shown into a small chamber with what looked like a ten person hot tub. We removed our silk robe and shorts and, one by one, we crawled into the pool so that we were sitting at ground level with our legs out straight. The doctor fish immediately flocked to our feet and began nibbling at our callouses and dead skin. It tickled tremendously. To ease the tension a bit and help us relax, Wes and Savin mixed champagne and sugar cane juice cocktails and turned on their iPod docking station. After a few minutes of uncomfortable ticklishness, we settled in for a half hour of munching.
I'm not sure that I can say that it was relaxing, but it was certainly a unique and enjoyable experience. Throughout the process, the fish continued to nibble and did not seem to be satiated even when we left. During our time in the pool, they did make more room in their bellies so to speak, relieving themselves in the pool and revealing what looked like miniature onion strings. After a half an hour though, my feet and the other areas in which I got attention from the doctor fish - hands, legs, even chest - were indeed much softer. Putting our silk robes back on, we hit the showers and changed out of our hot pants and back into our clothes.
I can say quite confidently that I never thought that I was going to pay to have my feet nibbled by fish. But I can also say quite confidently that I have come to expect the unexpected. For $5, it was certainly a worthwhile experience (I wouldn't shell out the $50 they're asking for for the same amount of time at the spa in DC) and one that I will repeat with visitors to Phnom Penh.
So it was on Sunday morning that we headed to Monorom Professional Massage with a group of five other friends. We were welcomed by a staff of several and ushered into a unisex changing room. Once inside, we were given lockers and issued our outfits. The girls were given bike shorts and sports bras and the guys were given incredibly small and tight bike shorts. The only time I'd ever worn something so tight was when I was too young to dress myself and was issued a Speedo as a bathing suit by my parents. In addition to our "swim" gear, we were given silk robes and shorts which made me feel as if I were prepping for a kickboxing fight.
Once changed we were shown into a small chamber with what looked like a ten person hot tub. We removed our silk robe and shorts and, one by one, we crawled into the pool so that we were sitting at ground level with our legs out straight. The doctor fish immediately flocked to our feet and began nibbling at our callouses and dead skin. It tickled tremendously. To ease the tension a bit and help us relax, Wes and Savin mixed champagne and sugar cane juice cocktails and turned on their iPod docking station. After a few minutes of uncomfortable ticklishness, we settled in for a half hour of munching.
I'm not sure that I can say that it was relaxing, but it was certainly a unique and enjoyable experience. Throughout the process, the fish continued to nibble and did not seem to be satiated even when we left. During our time in the pool, they did make more room in their bellies so to speak, relieving themselves in the pool and revealing what looked like miniature onion strings. After a half an hour though, my feet and the other areas in which I got attention from the doctor fish - hands, legs, even chest - were indeed much softer. Putting our silk robes back on, we hit the showers and changed out of our hot pants and back into our clothes.
I can say quite confidently that I never thought that I was going to pay to have my feet nibbled by fish. But I can also say quite confidently that I have come to expect the unexpected. For $5, it was certainly a worthwhile experience (I wouldn't shell out the $50 they're asking for for the same amount of time at the spa in DC) and one that I will repeat with visitors to Phnom Penh.
Monday, August 25, 2008
The Chinese Noodle Restaurant
Entering the restaurant, you first pass the main kitchen which is, in fact, outside. To the left are pots of boiling water and a glass case which features some of the signature dishes. To the right is a metal butchers table used for rolling out several varieties of noodles by hand; during the lunch and dinner hours, one of the employees is usually tossing the dough into the air, kneading it, and stretching it out, certainly in and of itself worthy of a trip. Inside the restaurant are a dozen metal folding tables, each of which has four pink plastic lawn chairs around it. To the back of the restaurant is a sort of bar and refrigeration unit as well as a wall-mounted television which usually plays Chinese-language kung fu movies, the news, or more recently, the Olympics.
The clientele at the Chinese Noodle Shop is quite diverse. It is certainly a popular spot with westerners (as many NGOs are close by), but there is always a mix of Cambodians and Chinese and often with an odd and seemingly out-of-place sprinkling of Mormons. The staff is all Cambodian, save the "manager" who is Chinese. We have never seen her smile, but she is courteous and direct when handling the bill. We're not sure that she speaks any Khmer, so upon leaving, we are sure to utter "shay shay" (thank you in Chinese) instead of "aw koon."
As soon as you are seated at one of the extremely ordinary tables, you are brought mugs of Chinese tea. On each table is the menu, under a layer of clear plastic, napkins, bottles of fish, soy, and chili sauce, sugar, a mixture of soy sauce and chilies, and toothpicks. As one might expect of a noodle shop, noodle dishes feature prominently on the menu, but there are also dumplings and veggie and tofu dishes.
I was lucky enough to be brought to the Chinese Noodle Restaurant shortly after arriving in Cambodia. As suggested by my host, I ordered the boiled dumplings and created a concoction of soy sauce and the soy/chili mixture. A few minutes later a plate of a dozen steaming dumplings arrived. Though fresh out of a pot of boiling hot of water, I dug in and certainly did not regret it. The dumplings were probably the best I've ever tasted, though to this day I'm not entirely sure what they're filled with; I think pork and chives.
The first several times that I went with Shanti and others, we ordered only dumplings, sometimes getting boiled, sometimes getting fried and sometimes getting both. It was not until a few months after we began to frequent the noodle shop that we expanded our repertoire. At first we expanded to a fried noodles with beef dish - phenomenal - which is a mix of the fresh noodles, egg, onions and carrots. Eventually, we added the fried green beans with garlic and mushrooms. Now I'm not one to get excited about vegetables, especially cooked ones, but these green beans, just drenched in garlic, are the best cooked vegetable I've ever had and are quite possibly, my favorite dish. We have tried a number of other dishes, including some of the other veggie dishes and some of the tofu dishes, but I think we're pretty happy with the combination of dumplings, fried noodles with beef, and green beans.
It's quite difficult to describe how good the noodles, dumplings, and green beans actually are, but if the number of trips made to the noodle shop by people visiting Phnom Penh is any indication, well, they're pretty damn good. In just four days in Phnom Penh, my parents and sister went three times. In about two weeks in town, Justin and Ashley went about a half dozen times. Shanti and I usually go at least once a week.
Wouldn't going out so often get expensive, you may ask? Ah, now that's where the true beauty of the Chinese Noodle Restaurant takes effect. A dozen dumplings: $1.20 (formerly $1); fried noodles with beef: $1.70; the green beans: $1.50. Thus, a typical lunch costs roughly two dollars a person, a price as easy to swallow as any of the restaurant's specialties. When I return to the US, the Chinese Noodle Restaurant and the tradition of going weekly, will be one of the things I miss most.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
A Weekend with His Excellency
Earlier this week, His Excellency approached Shanti, inviting us to join him in Kampot for a celebration of his recent electoral victory. Though we had planned to go to Phum Ampil in Svay Rieng with Shanti's friend Peter, who was in town for a few days, the idea of celebrating anything with His Excellency was too good to pass up.
Throughout the week we gathered additional information about the trip and the celebration: that the whole family would be there, that we could dress casually, and that we could get a ride down to Kampot on Saturday morning - hopefully in the Lexus. His Excellency's grandchildren were incredibly excited about the possibility of being able to dance and play with us and we were looking forward to another trip into the unknown and perhaps at gaining some additional insight into our landlord's life and family.
On Saturday morning, after running a few errands, we met on the ground floor of the house. His Excellency had gone to Kampot on Friday and his daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren had already left. A bit after 10:45, a van with "State" plates pulled up and we were ushered inside. Through a mix of Khmer and English, we found out that we were sharing the van with part of the National Assembly's media team, including a photographer and a videographer. We sped down to Kampot at roughly 100km/h, bouncing around in the back of the van, much to the amusement of the driver.
A lunch stop, three bathroom stops, and about four hours of jostling later, we passed through Kampot town and, several kilometers beyond, pulled on to a dirt road to a guesthouse. About a half kilometer further, the road forked to the right and we saw His Excellency's Lexus as well as the son-in-law's car. We were a bit confused: had His Excellency booked out the guesthouse for us and his family?
When we got out of the van, we were immediately greeted by His Excellency's wife and his English-speaking granddaughter who lives in Sihanoukville. Again, through a mix of English and Khmer, we learned that in addition to owning the beautiful riverfront land that the guesthouse sits on, they have an expansive fruit plantation for a total of about ten acres. We were shown to our incredibly nice bungalow with a cement frame, thatch roof and wooden porch, jutting out over the river. The view was phenomenal and, as with most trips to southern Cambodia, we were immediately relaxed. As we were chatting, the granddaughter was sent away and returned a moment later with two dozen fresh bananas.
After settling in a little, we wandered around the property. The fruit plantation was very impressive: a mix of bananas, mangoes, papayas, longyens, mangosteens, pomelos, milkfruit, jackfruit, durian, and several kinds of fruit we couldn't name. It quickly became quite clear why they like spending so much time there and, I must admit, we felt a bit foolish for not having made the time to join them sooner.
As we took a more thorough tour of the guesthouse, we chatted with the owner, who agreed that it would be incredibly difficult to find better landlords. He also went on to describe His Excellency's wife's fondness for the fruit plantation, saying that most days she's around she wades into the fruit trees in her pajamas and with a sickle and that she knows each plant on the ten acres. Following our chat we went in search of His Excellency's house. It was a bit off the river amidst fruit trees and definitely one of the coolest houses I've seen in Cambodia. It was made entirely of wood and had three levels - very unusual for rural Cambodia - with most of the space outside and only a few interior rooms. His Excellency's wife welcomed us inside, family members spilling over on all levels and the grandchildren splayed out asleep on the top floor. After a quick tour of the house, His Excellency's wife gave us her version of the tour of the plantation; it was evident how proud she was.
Sitting on the porch of our bungalow, we enjoyed some of the deliciously sweet and fresh bananas and relaxed before the evening's celebration. The English speaking granddaughter came to practice her English with us for a little while, informing us that the party tonight was going to be a big one, with three or four families and perhaps twenty-one people. After a bit more relaxing, we got dressed for the evening, with Peter and me in khakis and short-sleeve collared shirts and Shanti in a skirt. As we wandered out to the cars, we felt quite under-dressed. All of the men were in dress slacks, closed-toe shoes, and most were wearing long-sleeve button-down shirts. We shrugged and set off into Kampot town.
After crossing the bridge from the far side of the river, we took the first right. Immediately, we could see that the street was lined with dozens of shiny black Lexus SUVs and Mercedes sedans. The van stopped and we were ushered out and into the venue, a Chinese school, by a security guard. There were already several hundred people present, most dressed far from casual ,including more people wearing ties in one place than I've seen in the last year combined. As we were taken to our table, everyone turned to look at the barangs; we were, of course, the only white people around and it would remain so for the duration of the evening. We sat at our table in awe of how big the event was - there was a band set up, seating for about 500, and a VIP stage and table. We wondered who else would be making an appearance besides His Excellency.
Seats continued to fill as it approached 5:30. Then the cameras rushed to the entrance to capture the entrance of the first VIP. It was His Excellency, looking very sharp in a Chinese-style black bureaucrats uniform. He was followed by his entire family and many others in an entourage of several dozen. The cameras followed his entrance and it was not until then that we realized that the whole event - the cameras, the 500 people, the band - was for His Excellency. After handshakes and hellos, he took his place on stage and in Khmer, an emcee welcomed everyone.
Over the next half hour, we gathered a general understanding of the proceedings; basically, a listing of who had donated what to the party over the previous year. Then, His Excellency gave a speech. We didn't really have any idea what he was talking about, but we were surprised to discover how good a speaker he was. He seemed to place emphasis in all of the right places and his words were well accentuated by his hand motions. We were definitely impressed. His Excellency's speech was followed by a ceremony in which envelopes, presumably with money in them, were handed out to fervent party supporters and a number of guests received medals, including one of His Excellency's sons.
And then the beer began to flow. Each table of eight was given either one or two cases of beer, which quickly made it in to the glasses and then the bellies of those sitting around it. In Cambodian culture it is impolite to take a sip of your drink without first inviting those at your table to join and it is equally impolite - practically impossible - to refuse an invitation. Therefore, every time that you want to take even a sip, it becomes a long, drawn-out cheers, which can often lead to a "lug die" or bottom's up. Over the course of dinner - about an hour and a half - I'm pretty sure that our table went through close to two cases and it left us a bit, well, intoxicated.
And then there was lots of dancing. We joined most of His Excellency's family in dancing around a table in the traditional Cambodian style. As we did so, we inevitably got laughs and pointers from other guests, including a particularly jolly taa (grandfather) and yay (grandmother), who gave Peter a solid pat on the behind. We continued to dance for some time and before we knew it, almost everyone had left and most of the tables and chairs had been packed away. Despite this, we continued to dance, even unsuccessfully trying to persuade His Excellency's driver and grandchildren to join us. At the rather premature hour of 9:00 the party ended and we piled back into the van, where our fun continued. We took silly pictures and, for some reason, started a round of 99 bottles of beer on the wall (we made it to 74 by the time we got back).
Before departing on Sunday morning, there was a beautiful sunrise over the river and Peter went for a quick swim across the river for an impressive back flip off a rope swing (yes, it looked awesome). We had to leave a bit early in order for Peter to catch his flight back to the US, but we will certainly be back, though I can't imagine that there will be as big a party next time...
Throughout the week we gathered additional information about the trip and the celebration: that the whole family would be there, that we could dress casually, and that we could get a ride down to Kampot on Saturday morning - hopefully in the Lexus. His Excellency's grandchildren were incredibly excited about the possibility of being able to dance and play with us and we were looking forward to another trip into the unknown and perhaps at gaining some additional insight into our landlord's life and family.
On Saturday morning, after running a few errands, we met on the ground floor of the house. His Excellency had gone to Kampot on Friday and his daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren had already left. A bit after 10:45, a van with "State" plates pulled up and we were ushered inside. Through a mix of Khmer and English, we found out that we were sharing the van with part of the National Assembly's media team, including a photographer and a videographer. We sped down to Kampot at roughly 100km/h, bouncing around in the back of the van, much to the amusement of the driver.
A lunch stop, three bathroom stops, and about four hours of jostling later, we passed through Kampot town and, several kilometers beyond, pulled on to a dirt road to a guesthouse. About a half kilometer further, the road forked to the right and we saw His Excellency's Lexus as well as the son-in-law's car. We were a bit confused: had His Excellency booked out the guesthouse for us and his family?
When we got out of the van, we were immediately greeted by His Excellency's wife and his English-speaking granddaughter who lives in Sihanoukville. Again, through a mix of English and Khmer, we learned that in addition to owning the beautiful riverfront land that the guesthouse sits on, they have an expansive fruit plantation for a total of about ten acres. We were shown to our incredibly nice bungalow with a cement frame, thatch roof and wooden porch, jutting out over the river. The view was phenomenal and, as with most trips to southern Cambodia, we were immediately relaxed. As we were chatting, the granddaughter was sent away and returned a moment later with two dozen fresh bananas.
After settling in a little, we wandered around the property. The fruit plantation was very impressive: a mix of bananas, mangoes, papayas, longyens, mangosteens, pomelos, milkfruit, jackfruit, durian, and several kinds of fruit we couldn't name. It quickly became quite clear why they like spending so much time there and, I must admit, we felt a bit foolish for not having made the time to join them sooner.
As we took a more thorough tour of the guesthouse, we chatted with the owner, who agreed that it would be incredibly difficult to find better landlords. He also went on to describe His Excellency's wife's fondness for the fruit plantation, saying that most days she's around she wades into the fruit trees in her pajamas and with a sickle and that she knows each plant on the ten acres. Following our chat we went in search of His Excellency's house. It was a bit off the river amidst fruit trees and definitely one of the coolest houses I've seen in Cambodia. It was made entirely of wood and had three levels - very unusual for rural Cambodia - with most of the space outside and only a few interior rooms. His Excellency's wife welcomed us inside, family members spilling over on all levels and the grandchildren splayed out asleep on the top floor. After a quick tour of the house, His Excellency's wife gave us her version of the tour of the plantation; it was evident how proud she was.
Sitting on the porch of our bungalow, we enjoyed some of the deliciously sweet and fresh bananas and relaxed before the evening's celebration. The English speaking granddaughter came to practice her English with us for a little while, informing us that the party tonight was going to be a big one, with three or four families and perhaps twenty-one people. After a bit more relaxing, we got dressed for the evening, with Peter and me in khakis and short-sleeve collared shirts and Shanti in a skirt. As we wandered out to the cars, we felt quite under-dressed. All of the men were in dress slacks, closed-toe shoes, and most were wearing long-sleeve button-down shirts. We shrugged and set off into Kampot town.
After crossing the bridge from the far side of the river, we took the first right. Immediately, we could see that the street was lined with dozens of shiny black Lexus SUVs and Mercedes sedans. The van stopped and we were ushered out and into the venue, a Chinese school, by a security guard. There were already several hundred people present, most dressed far from casual ,including more people wearing ties in one place than I've seen in the last year combined. As we were taken to our table, everyone turned to look at the barangs; we were, of course, the only white people around and it would remain so for the duration of the evening. We sat at our table in awe of how big the event was - there was a band set up, seating for about 500, and a VIP stage and table. We wondered who else would be making an appearance besides His Excellency.
Seats continued to fill as it approached 5:30. Then the cameras rushed to the entrance to capture the entrance of the first VIP. It was His Excellency, looking very sharp in a Chinese-style black bureaucrats uniform. He was followed by his entire family and many others in an entourage of several dozen. The cameras followed his entrance and it was not until then that we realized that the whole event - the cameras, the 500 people, the band - was for His Excellency. After handshakes and hellos, he took his place on stage and in Khmer, an emcee welcomed everyone.
Over the next half hour, we gathered a general understanding of the proceedings; basically, a listing of who had donated what to the party over the previous year. Then, His Excellency gave a speech. We didn't really have any idea what he was talking about, but we were surprised to discover how good a speaker he was. He seemed to place emphasis in all of the right places and his words were well accentuated by his hand motions. We were definitely impressed. His Excellency's speech was followed by a ceremony in which envelopes, presumably with money in them, were handed out to fervent party supporters and a number of guests received medals, including one of His Excellency's sons.
And then the beer began to flow. Each table of eight was given either one or two cases of beer, which quickly made it in to the glasses and then the bellies of those sitting around it. In Cambodian culture it is impolite to take a sip of your drink without first inviting those at your table to join and it is equally impolite - practically impossible - to refuse an invitation. Therefore, every time that you want to take even a sip, it becomes a long, drawn-out cheers, which can often lead to a "lug die" or bottom's up. Over the course of dinner - about an hour and a half - I'm pretty sure that our table went through close to two cases and it left us a bit, well, intoxicated.
And then there was lots of dancing. We joined most of His Excellency's family in dancing around a table in the traditional Cambodian style. As we did so, we inevitably got laughs and pointers from other guests, including a particularly jolly taa (grandfather) and yay (grandmother), who gave Peter a solid pat on the behind. We continued to dance for some time and before we knew it, almost everyone had left and most of the tables and chairs had been packed away. Despite this, we continued to dance, even unsuccessfully trying to persuade His Excellency's driver and grandchildren to join us. At the rather premature hour of 9:00 the party ended and we piled back into the van, where our fun continued. We took silly pictures and, for some reason, started a round of 99 bottles of beer on the wall (we made it to 74 by the time we got back).
Before departing on Sunday morning, there was a beautiful sunrise over the river and Peter went for a quick swim across the river for an impressive back flip off a rope swing (yes, it looked awesome). We had to leave a bit early in order for Peter to catch his flight back to the US, but we will certainly be back, though I can't imagine that there will be as big a party next time...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)