March 6, 2010
A young lady, maybe 18 years old, greeted me outside the guesthouse, “Sister, sister, welcome!”
A room was a grand total of $3 per night, I was sold. She gave me a bottle of cold water and asked me where I had come from and why I came to O-Som. I tried to explain I wanted to hike if possible, but she didn’t seem to understand the concept. There should be a Conservation International ranger station in O-Som that could give me some information, I asked her, “Do you know Conservation International? People here, rangers, working in the forest?” She was puzzled and asked me to repeat.
“Conservation International?” I asked.
“Conservation International?” she said smoothly.
Yes! I thought, she knows.
“I don’t know” she continued, “I don’t know this word.”
Oh right, of course, she’s probably never heard the two words before, but she had said it very well. Just to be sure I wrote Conservation International on a piece of paper, as well as Flora & Fauna International and Wildlife Alliance. Still nothing. Then I remembered that my Lonely Planet had actually listed the phone number of someone from Conservation International that could provide information on the area. My phone was completely out of service but I was able to borrow a local mobile to place the call. The man on the other line was very helpful, though based out of Phnom Phen. Yes, he said, there is a ranger station in O-Som and they should be able to help me see the area. I told him no one here knew about Conservation International. He insisted they should know where it is. I asked him to speak with the girl so that he could describe where I needed to go. I heard him say something to her with “CI” mentioned. She responded positively. She was off the phone in seconds and said, “CI! I know sister!” and I was taken to the nearby CI station on a motorbike. I could have kicked myself, why hadn’t I thought to abbreviate it?
At the CI station I met the senior ranger, Mr. Reet. He was a very kind man in his early 40s. His English was limited but enough to communicate. He asked me if I would like to see the forest and a local waterfall. I would love to I said. Tomorrow he would take me. How much will it cost? Nothing, he said, I didn’t have to pay. Wow! What a treat. He wouldn’t be a guide/driver but a host.
Excited about my luck I went back to my room and had the unusual luxury of taking a much need nap. In the evening I watched the sunset in town and observed a restaurant full of men watching WWF. It’s a big thing here, everyone seems to love it, a “man’s soap opera," if I may borrow the description from Atish.
There was a knock on my door in the evening, “Sister, you come eat rice?”
My sister (I’m sorry I never learned her name) made me a delicious dinner of egg and fish. In my room there was a single light bulb which turned on at sundown with the generator and off at 10:30pm with the electricity. I spent some time with my pictures and catching up on my blog. I was totally paranoid about mosquitoes since I’m not taking malaria so I spent half an hour sowing up all the holes in my mosquito net. I realized as I was stitching the last hole closed that I really enjoy this lifestyle. I love only having 2 hours to be able to use my computer in the evening, listening to music and writing. Once the power is off, it’s off and time for bed. This little town of O-Som represents any small remote town that I think I could easily live in for work. I see a huge potential for genuine eco-tourism here. The town is very basic and building an infrastructure for travelers to come educate themselves and see the forest would provide jobs and perhaps protection for the forest. And once it is out that O-Som has guesthouses there will be a lot more people coming.
I woke up in the morning excited to see the area with Mr. Reet. I relate traveling to really feeling alive. I’ve been a bit bummed and tired for the past several days. After the city and touristy Angkor Wat I was really ready to just get to India and meet Atish. Now that I’m truly on my own again, exploring and finding beautiful places I feel great! I love this.
Mr. Reet picks me up. It’s a longer drive than I expected into the mountains. We drive on his motorbike over horrible roads, fragile bridges, and straight through rivers. The landscape starts with banana trees growing amongst the charred skeletons of once magnificent trees that made up the jungle. Then it becomes denser forest. There is a stark contrast between the gorgeous forest and fast development. What’s happening here? I can see the forest receding before my own eyes. As we cruise farther a wide dirt road in excellent condition is being laid before us. We pass men and machines working to build the road. We pass areas that have been clear-cut, forest that is literally on fire in front of my eyes, work camps, electrical towers being built, construction machines waiting for work. Mr. Reet tells me “Electric building, Chinese company.” The scene before me is both so dramatic and typical, I feel like I’ve been transported into a Captain Planet episode where the Planeteers battle the evil dam builders. But where are the Planeteers? The theme song comes to my mind and I hear the final line, “The power is yours!” But is it? As a child I had such idealistic dreams. As I child I was unusually aware of the many threats to our planet. At the age of 6, while still living in Manhattan, I could tell you about poaching, logging, fires, pollution, illegal animal products, habitat destruction, and endangered species. But my childish idealism manifested in my belief that I would grow up to put a stop to all the “bad guys who like to loot and plunder.” I’d figure out a way to talk them out of it, show them the harm they were doing. I never dreamed of one little girl trying to stand up to China. “Stop China, please stop, you’re hurting the animals.”
What I see in front of me now as we ride though the smoking forest I don’t imagine trying to stop, idealistically or realistically. If Cambodia needs the electricity, they need the electricity. If China wants to front the money, let them front the money. (That is assuming the electricity is for Cambodia and not being exported to China.) The most I would hope for is an agreement that only the absolutely necessary areas of the Cardamom Mountains are used, the rest should be legally protected, and the Chinese company should be closely monitored to make sure they don’t overstep their boundaries. But even as I think of these goals I think “yeah right.” There are so many more factors at play, pressure from a growing population, complex politics, inability to enforce regulations, not to mention the profound ecological affects that dams and the surrounding infrastructure would have on the area. CI, FFI, WA. If you speak to any conservationist that has worked abroad in the field they will convey similar pessimism. We all recognize the bleak reality of the work we do. But we still do it, holding onto some hope that we can delay the inevitable, perhaps until humanity begins to shift our self-destructive trajectory.
We reach the waterfall and I’m impressed. I hadn’t been expecting anything grand, but the waterfall is beautiful. A flat, rock river bed ends sharply at a rounded cliff where the water falls down over 100ft. I’m sure it must be even more stunning during the rainy season. Mr. Reet and I sit for a while on the river bed and talk.
At first it’s difficult for him to understand me, but slowly we seem to be able to communicate more easily with a simple vocabulary. I learn that he studied Forest Administration in Russia. He’s very proud that he speaks Russian. His wife lives in Phnom Phen with his 7 year old daughter. I ask him about the electric company, he says they are building 3 dams. He says he and his rangers go on patrol to make sure that people aren’t cutting down the forest in the area, but now it’s difficult because the company is cutting so much anyway.
I ask him if he thinks more people will start to come to O-Som in the next years. He says yes, already there are motorbike tours that stop there, and they get about 7 independent Western tourists per month right now. I ask him if he likes working in the forest. “Yes,” he smiles, “forest smell good, Phnom Phen gas.”
After the waterfall we went down a small road in the forest. Mr. Reet was looking for some type of medicinal plant to make tea with. I noticed that as we walked down a wide path he didn’t head off to look for the plant, he only looked at the plants directly next to the path. “Are there landmines here?” I asked, making an exploding motion with my hand. “Yes, many” he replies nonchalantly. Ok, I think, cool… I stay on the path. The sound of a hundred birds chorused around us. I couldn’t see any but they were all there, every range of song and chirps. Then, as I looked up I saw a large bird flying overhead. After I second I recognized it as hornbill, a bird I’ve only ever seen in zoos. It flew slowly and peacefully between the trees, disappearing into the canopy. The Great Hornbill (which is what I think it was) is a stunning bird. For one reason or another, seeing it in the wild, flying across the sky so freely was breathtaking. Immediately, the forest held even more importance and value for me.
We head back to O-Som for lunch and I enjoy another afternoon nap. At 4pm he picks me up and takes me to a sanctuary for the endangered Siamese Crocodile. We don’t see the crocodile but the area is beautiful. It’s a valley of rice paddy fields with a protected wetland in the middle.
The next morning I’m sad to leave O-Som and my new friends for Koh Kong on the south coast of Cambodia. I thank my sister for taking such good care of me. The ride to Koh Kong in a car (thank god) driven by Mr. Reet cost me $35, which was an excellent deal considering they had at first told me $50 to take me by bike on the horrible old logging road. The road was horrible and at one point we were properly stuck. Luckily a car nearby had a flat tire and so there were 4 other men who helped literally lift our car out of the ditch and back onto the road.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Getting to O-Som
March 6, 2010
The next morning I made my way to the Old Market in Pursat where indeed, many shared pickup trucks were waiting to be filled with passengers and goods. I was quite the attraction. I found a truck that claimed to go to Promoui. The young men working on loading the truck and getting passengers stared stupidly at me. “Promoui?” I tried to confirm, pointing at the truck. They just looked at me, dumbstruck. “Yes or no?” I said nodding and shaking my head, repeating the question. Eventually I got the answer of “yes.” Next I went through the same process to establish the cost and then again to know what time the truck would leave.
Passengers around me laughed openly, as did some of the boys (or young men, whatever). I felt totally mocked, but what could I do? I dressed respectfully, wearing long sleeves and pants in the heat, I smiled obligingly, but no matter what, I was always a source of great amusement.
For breakfast I had a bowl of noodles in green broth/sauce from a street vendor which would make me slightly “ill” for the next week. Ahh, the price you pay for good/cheap food. ;) I took refuge from the circus by the trucks at this food stall. The older woman serving the noodles was kind and the old man I sat next to was extremely proud to have his photo taken by me.
I had thought the boat was uncomfortable, but the 4 hours I spent on the back of the pickup truck was definitely worse. Over the bumpy road I sat on a lumpy package of I don’t know what. Slowly I was coated in layer after layer of red dust. When I licked my lips I tasted the earth and felt the grit between my teeth. There was no shelter from the sun besides my hat and scarf. But it was definitely a “local” experience, since this mode of transportation is the main way for people to get to and from the mountains.
In my boredom a semi-interesting dialogue began in my head: I noticed that most of my fellow passengers hung their legs over the side of the truck; this was the most efficient way to get the most people on the truck. I had got stuck with a seat in the middle of the pile of goods. Everyone was wearing their flip-flops and I thought that if I did the same certainly I would lose a flip-flop at some point with all the bumps and wind. How stressful to have to make sure they don’t fall off your feet! I thought it was odd that they didn’t choose to wear different shoes when they knew they would be on the back of a truck for so long that day. I’m stupid to assume that they have other pairs of shoes. Would they really need more than a pair of flip-flops anyway? My flip-flops are almost all that I have worn for the past 2 months, and I only have one other pair of shoes in case of hiking. Wait a moment, that wasn’t right… Oh yeah, I have a closet full of shoes at home. Why do I have so many shoes? When could I possibly wear all those shoes? Oh my god, and all the clothes! I have an entire drawer dedicated to scarves.
As I reflected on my closet and life back home I realized how far removed from that lifestyle I am now. I don’t think about dressing up or down, I just put something relatively clean on each day and head out. And I don’t miss it at all. I never do when I travel. At home I love my clothes and guiltily I do enjoy shopping, but I really don’t need it. When I’m camping or traveling I am just as content to be simple. What amazed me was how quickly I forgot that I am in possession of a huge amount of Stuff. Living out of a backpack for 2 months, and knowing that it will continue to be my home for the next 2+ months, I don’t associate myself as materialistic. While this feels nice, it’s also important that I remind myself of my ridiculous wealth of Stuff in the USA from time to time so that I can draw proper comparisons to the way people live around me. (All that said, Asia is extremely materialistic and consumerist so in general I haven’t felt the same contrast to the USA as I have in other parts of the world.)
The surroundings of the drive reminded me of the forest in Mondulkiri. Perhaps this area was also once a natural woodland and grasslands. There area has mostly been cleared for agriculture or by logging and everything has recently been burned. We drive through smoke and ash floats down on us like snow.
When we reach Promoui I am quickly offered a ride by motorcycle to O-Som. This is a relief because I was afraid since it was in the afternoon no one would want to go. I agree on a price of $7 and we head south. The rode is horrible. For a car it would be quite manageable, but as a passenger on the back of a bike my back was crying for mercy. After the last 2 days this was the last thing my back needed. My driver didn’t seem to care about slowing down for some of the potholes in the road, though I have a suspicion his vision wasn’t 20/20 and he couldn’t make some of them out in time to slow down. So with each bump and hole I held on and hoped my spine wouldn’t snap.
The mountains in the distance beckoned with the hope of cooler air. As we climbed the air did cool and the scenery changed. The woods quickly changed to jungle and the green grew darker. I was excited to be somewhere so beautiful and so remote, especially since my route was working out! 1.5hours later we arrived in O-Som, faster than I had hoped. My driver dropped me in front of, surprise, a guesthouse. O-Som does have a guesthouse. Two in fact.
The next morning I made my way to the Old Market in Pursat where indeed, many shared pickup trucks were waiting to be filled with passengers and goods. I was quite the attraction. I found a truck that claimed to go to Promoui. The young men working on loading the truck and getting passengers stared stupidly at me. “Promoui?” I tried to confirm, pointing at the truck. They just looked at me, dumbstruck. “Yes or no?” I said nodding and shaking my head, repeating the question. Eventually I got the answer of “yes.” Next I went through the same process to establish the cost and then again to know what time the truck would leave.
Passengers around me laughed openly, as did some of the boys (or young men, whatever). I felt totally mocked, but what could I do? I dressed respectfully, wearing long sleeves and pants in the heat, I smiled obligingly, but no matter what, I was always a source of great amusement.
For breakfast I had a bowl of noodles in green broth/sauce from a street vendor which would make me slightly “ill” for the next week. Ahh, the price you pay for good/cheap food. ;) I took refuge from the circus by the trucks at this food stall. The older woman serving the noodles was kind and the old man I sat next to was extremely proud to have his photo taken by me.
I had thought the boat was uncomfortable, but the 4 hours I spent on the back of the pickup truck was definitely worse. Over the bumpy road I sat on a lumpy package of I don’t know what. Slowly I was coated in layer after layer of red dust. When I licked my lips I tasted the earth and felt the grit between my teeth. There was no shelter from the sun besides my hat and scarf. But it was definitely a “local” experience, since this mode of transportation is the main way for people to get to and from the mountains.
In my boredom a semi-interesting dialogue began in my head: I noticed that most of my fellow passengers hung their legs over the side of the truck; this was the most efficient way to get the most people on the truck. I had got stuck with a seat in the middle of the pile of goods. Everyone was wearing their flip-flops and I thought that if I did the same certainly I would lose a flip-flop at some point with all the bumps and wind. How stressful to have to make sure they don’t fall off your feet! I thought it was odd that they didn’t choose to wear different shoes when they knew they would be on the back of a truck for so long that day. I’m stupid to assume that they have other pairs of shoes. Would they really need more than a pair of flip-flops anyway? My flip-flops are almost all that I have worn for the past 2 months, and I only have one other pair of shoes in case of hiking. Wait a moment, that wasn’t right… Oh yeah, I have a closet full of shoes at home. Why do I have so many shoes? When could I possibly wear all those shoes? Oh my god, and all the clothes! I have an entire drawer dedicated to scarves.
As I reflected on my closet and life back home I realized how far removed from that lifestyle I am now. I don’t think about dressing up or down, I just put something relatively clean on each day and head out. And I don’t miss it at all. I never do when I travel. At home I love my clothes and guiltily I do enjoy shopping, but I really don’t need it. When I’m camping or traveling I am just as content to be simple. What amazed me was how quickly I forgot that I am in possession of a huge amount of Stuff. Living out of a backpack for 2 months, and knowing that it will continue to be my home for the next 2+ months, I don’t associate myself as materialistic. While this feels nice, it’s also important that I remind myself of my ridiculous wealth of Stuff in the USA from time to time so that I can draw proper comparisons to the way people live around me. (All that said, Asia is extremely materialistic and consumerist so in general I haven’t felt the same contrast to the USA as I have in other parts of the world.)
The surroundings of the drive reminded me of the forest in Mondulkiri. Perhaps this area was also once a natural woodland and grasslands. There area has mostly been cleared for agriculture or by logging and everything has recently been burned. We drive through smoke and ash floats down on us like snow.
When we reach Promoui I am quickly offered a ride by motorcycle to O-Som. This is a relief because I was afraid since it was in the afternoon no one would want to go. I agree on a price of $7 and we head south. The rode is horrible. For a car it would be quite manageable, but as a passenger on the back of a bike my back was crying for mercy. After the last 2 days this was the last thing my back needed. My driver didn’t seem to care about slowing down for some of the potholes in the road, though I have a suspicion his vision wasn’t 20/20 and he couldn’t make some of them out in time to slow down. So with each bump and hole I held on and hoped my spine wouldn’t snap.
The mountains in the distance beckoned with the hope of cooler air. As we climbed the air did cool and the scenery changed. The woods quickly changed to jungle and the green grew darker. I was excited to be somewhere so beautiful and so remote, especially since my route was working out! 1.5hours later we arrived in O-Som, faster than I had hoped. My driver dropped me in front of, surprise, a guesthouse. O-Som does have a guesthouse. Two in fact.
Pursat
March 5, 2010
I arrive in Pursat in the early evening, a dumpy, highway-side transit town that hopes to build its tourism based on its strategic location to the mountains in the south and lake to the north. I wish it luck.
I have decided to head south into the Cardamom Mountains. My LP has limited information about the area. What I know is that it is the second largest continual primary forest in SE Asia. There are several large environmental NGOs working hard to protect its biodiversity including Conservation International, Flora & Fauna International, and Wildlife Alliance. Conservation International has several ranger station set up where you can stay the night with basic accommodations. There are several small towns in the mountains but none are said to have guesthouses… yet. There is supposed to be a huge potential for eco-tourism in the area. There is also supposed to be undetonated landmines scattered through the mountains (not mentioned in the LP), and my online research in Siem Riep told me to avoid stepping off the roads or main trails.
I am interested in seeing the area and checking out the ranger stations. If I’m lucky maybe I’ll meet someone working for the NGO’s and get to ask some questions (I have so many!) and make some connections. Besides, Siem Riep was too crowded for me; I’m ready to head out on my own again. But I acknowledge that this is one of the more adventurous routes I will have taken.
I find a hotel room for $4 and drop my bags there. I go downstairs to ask the women in the lobby where I can find transport to Promoui tomorrow. Promoui is the first/last main town in the region, from there I will have to find another ride further into the mountains. I ask and wait patiently as the women converse between each other, apparently discussing the answer. Still waiting, I wonder what is taking them so long to decide on what to tell me. I continue to wait. Finally after 2 full minutes I say, “So, where do I go?” They look at me in mild surprise, oh I still want an answer? They start to discuss again. “Excuse me, do you know?” “Market.” is the only answer I finally get. I head out to the nearby market. I don’t see any particular area where pickup trucks or vans are waiting. But I also know that most leave in the morning, right now the market is closing down for the day. I go to one moto-driver and try to convey my question. “Promoui? Where can I go? Shared taxi? Morning?” He nods encouragingly, “Yes!” he says. Oh dear, the enthusiastic yes, he doesn’t understand a word I’m saying. “Thank you” I say and walk away. For some reason I feel extremely frustrated. I’ve quickly forgotten what it means to be off the tourist track. I’ve just spent the last 2 weeks constantly around people that spoke English, whether in Si Phan Don, in the field with the team, Phnom Phen, or Siem Riep. Now I was back on my own, properly on my own with not a single other foreigner in sight and in a town where I shouldn’t expect anyone to speak English. Knowing that I was headed somewhere even more remote, possibly somewhere without guesthouses and without mobile reception, it was scary to already be at a loss of how to find my way tomorrow. I continued to stop in a couple of shops and ask people how to get to Promoui tomorrow. Each time there was someone with minimal English skills, both young and old, who wanted to help. But despite clearly being able to convey the town’s name no one seemed to guess that I was looking for a way to get there. Or maybe the way to get there was just too obvious to them that they wouldn’t assume that such a detail I needed help with.
I was further frustrated because I had hoped that with hand signals asking how to find a ride to a city I could say the name of would be something that didn’t require any English. But as soon as I open my mouth people are intimidated if they don’t speak English and just twist their hand (the western gesture for “so-so” means “I don’t know” here). When I do find someone who knows some English my words are rarely better understood. Cambodians have an interesting talent of parroting back any foreign word you say to them with nearly perfect pronunciation. You could swear when you say “pickup truck” and they reply “pickup truck,” wide-eyed, that you have just conveyed your need. But no, that was the first time they ever heard the words “pickup truck.” I mimed driving a car, I showed my destination on a map, I pointed to actual pickup trucks passing in the road but all to no avail.
I was worried, if my guesthouse couldn’t even answer a simple traveller’s question, then how would these shop owners? On my fifth try I thought I found someone who understood me. He insisted I sit down with him before we began the arduous process of translating my English question into a series of hand signals, pointing, and one word sentences. He understood what I wanted I think. He finally said “I don’t know, maybe try there.” He pointed down the street at what seemed to be the gas station. He suggested that maybe I could find a ride from there. I thanked him for his help and headed to the gas station. As I approached I felt that it wasn’t right. This wasn’t where the shared rides gathered in the morning. I looked around for someone new to ask. I saw a girl selling individual liters of gasoline (they sell them out of reused water and soda bottles, a way to both measure and store the gasoline). She looked exhausted from a long day working in the sun surrounded by the smell of gasoline. As I thought to ask her I realized, there’s no way this girl is going to be able to help me more than the others. I asked my question and she says, “Old market, Phsar Chas.” “Sorry? I need to go to the old market? Where is that?” She pointed and said, “Maybe you take moto, very far.” “What time do they leave for Promoui?” “Maybe 9am? Many taxis to Promoui, all morning.” She wrote the name of the old market in Khmer in my lonely planet so that I could show a moto-driver tomorrow where I needed to go. I thanked her very much and shamed myself for having judged her by her job, she was wonderful and her English was wonderful.
I had a plan for tomorrow. Now I could relax, have dinner, and sleep. Tomorrow would be a new adventure.
I arrive in Pursat in the early evening, a dumpy, highway-side transit town that hopes to build its tourism based on its strategic location to the mountains in the south and lake to the north. I wish it luck.
I have decided to head south into the Cardamom Mountains. My LP has limited information about the area. What I know is that it is the second largest continual primary forest in SE Asia. There are several large environmental NGOs working hard to protect its biodiversity including Conservation International, Flora & Fauna International, and Wildlife Alliance. Conservation International has several ranger station set up where you can stay the night with basic accommodations. There are several small towns in the mountains but none are said to have guesthouses… yet. There is supposed to be a huge potential for eco-tourism in the area. There is also supposed to be undetonated landmines scattered through the mountains (not mentioned in the LP), and my online research in Siem Riep told me to avoid stepping off the roads or main trails.
I am interested in seeing the area and checking out the ranger stations. If I’m lucky maybe I’ll meet someone working for the NGO’s and get to ask some questions (I have so many!) and make some connections. Besides, Siem Riep was too crowded for me; I’m ready to head out on my own again. But I acknowledge that this is one of the more adventurous routes I will have taken.
I find a hotel room for $4 and drop my bags there. I go downstairs to ask the women in the lobby where I can find transport to Promoui tomorrow. Promoui is the first/last main town in the region, from there I will have to find another ride further into the mountains. I ask and wait patiently as the women converse between each other, apparently discussing the answer. Still waiting, I wonder what is taking them so long to decide on what to tell me. I continue to wait. Finally after 2 full minutes I say, “So, where do I go?” They look at me in mild surprise, oh I still want an answer? They start to discuss again. “Excuse me, do you know?” “Market.” is the only answer I finally get. I head out to the nearby market. I don’t see any particular area where pickup trucks or vans are waiting. But I also know that most leave in the morning, right now the market is closing down for the day. I go to one moto-driver and try to convey my question. “Promoui? Where can I go? Shared taxi? Morning?” He nods encouragingly, “Yes!” he says. Oh dear, the enthusiastic yes, he doesn’t understand a word I’m saying. “Thank you” I say and walk away. For some reason I feel extremely frustrated. I’ve quickly forgotten what it means to be off the tourist track. I’ve just spent the last 2 weeks constantly around people that spoke English, whether in Si Phan Don, in the field with the team, Phnom Phen, or Siem Riep. Now I was back on my own, properly on my own with not a single other foreigner in sight and in a town where I shouldn’t expect anyone to speak English. Knowing that I was headed somewhere even more remote, possibly somewhere without guesthouses and without mobile reception, it was scary to already be at a loss of how to find my way tomorrow. I continued to stop in a couple of shops and ask people how to get to Promoui tomorrow. Each time there was someone with minimal English skills, both young and old, who wanted to help. But despite clearly being able to convey the town’s name no one seemed to guess that I was looking for a way to get there. Or maybe the way to get there was just too obvious to them that they wouldn’t assume that such a detail I needed help with.
I was further frustrated because I had hoped that with hand signals asking how to find a ride to a city I could say the name of would be something that didn’t require any English. But as soon as I open my mouth people are intimidated if they don’t speak English and just twist their hand (the western gesture for “so-so” means “I don’t know” here). When I do find someone who knows some English my words are rarely better understood. Cambodians have an interesting talent of parroting back any foreign word you say to them with nearly perfect pronunciation. You could swear when you say “pickup truck” and they reply “pickup truck,” wide-eyed, that you have just conveyed your need. But no, that was the first time they ever heard the words “pickup truck.” I mimed driving a car, I showed my destination on a map, I pointed to actual pickup trucks passing in the road but all to no avail.
I was worried, if my guesthouse couldn’t even answer a simple traveller’s question, then how would these shop owners? On my fifth try I thought I found someone who understood me. He insisted I sit down with him before we began the arduous process of translating my English question into a series of hand signals, pointing, and one word sentences. He understood what I wanted I think. He finally said “I don’t know, maybe try there.” He pointed down the street at what seemed to be the gas station. He suggested that maybe I could find a ride from there. I thanked him for his help and headed to the gas station. As I approached I felt that it wasn’t right. This wasn’t where the shared rides gathered in the morning. I looked around for someone new to ask. I saw a girl selling individual liters of gasoline (they sell them out of reused water and soda bottles, a way to both measure and store the gasoline). She looked exhausted from a long day working in the sun surrounded by the smell of gasoline. As I thought to ask her I realized, there’s no way this girl is going to be able to help me more than the others. I asked my question and she says, “Old market, Phsar Chas.” “Sorry? I need to go to the old market? Where is that?” She pointed and said, “Maybe you take moto, very far.” “What time do they leave for Promoui?” “Maybe 9am? Many taxis to Promoui, all morning.” She wrote the name of the old market in Khmer in my lonely planet so that I could show a moto-driver tomorrow where I needed to go. I thanked her very much and shamed myself for having judged her by her job, she was wonderful and her English was wonderful.
I had a plan for tomorrow. Now I could relax, have dinner, and sleep. Tomorrow would be a new adventure.
The Lonely Planet Recommends the Slow-Boat
March 5, 2010
Today I took the slow boat from Siem Riep to Battambang. It was a ridiculously overpriced ticket, $20 for the trip. I hadn’t bothered to ask how long the ride was until I got on the boat and was surprised when they said 6 hours. That meant I would be sitting on the boat for at least 7 hours.
The beginning of the ride was beautiful and interesting as we passed several floating villages in the mangroves of Konle Sap (Cambodia’s Great Lake). The entire lives of these people are conducted on the water. We passed their houses, shops, medical clinics, schools, police stations, and churches, all floating individually, accessed by personal canoe. Everyone on the boat eagerly took pictures. The locals seemed both bored and frustrated with the photography. Every day several boats filled with tourists pass from Siem Riep to Battambang through these towns thanks to the new review by the Lonely Planet that this route was well worthwhile (hence the ridiculous price). Here these people were living their day to day lives the way they knew and we passed surprisingly close. We could see straight into homes, people working, children playing, people bathing. Unlike taking a tour of a village or walking through, we didn’t have permission to be there, we couldn’t stop and say hello or ask permission to take a picture. These people happened to live on the main water route between two cities, a route which had just be greatly popularized by travel guides, attracting more and more foreigners to pass through their homes. Of course, I took photos too, but it did strike me as more invasive than a land trip, these people had given no permission for us to pass through and we passed so close and so slowly.
The rest of the nearly 8 hour trip was tedious. Our seats were uncomfortable; we were on benches facing the middle of the boat, knees almost touching the person on the other side facing inwards. As we got further inland the river became smaller and windy. It’s the dry season so we were actually lucky to be able to have enough water this time of year. It was extremely slow going. The driver carefully navigated around the bends, the boy at the bow sometimes had to use a large wooden pole to push us away from the approaching mud bank. And we had slowed to such a pace that we no longer had the relief of a breeze to cool us down.
Eventually we reached Battambang and my decision of whether to stay the night or continue to Pursat was made easy when I quickly found a bus leaving immediately for the direction I was headed. And so, I was on to Pursat where I hoped to find a way to enter the mysterious Cardamom Mountains.
I’m glad I got to see the floating villages; I would have otherwise missed this characteristic scene of Cambodia. The cost of bus transport to Battambang and a tour of the floating villages would definitely have added to more than $20, so I guess it was worth it? A bus to Battambang would have been a lot more comfortable and probably shorter. Perhaps if I had been more in the mindset of a long uncomfortable boat ride when I started the day I wouldn’t have been so uncomfortable…
Today I took the slow boat from Siem Riep to Battambang. It was a ridiculously overpriced ticket, $20 for the trip. I hadn’t bothered to ask how long the ride was until I got on the boat and was surprised when they said 6 hours. That meant I would be sitting on the boat for at least 7 hours.
The beginning of the ride was beautiful and interesting as we passed several floating villages in the mangroves of Konle Sap (Cambodia’s Great Lake). The entire lives of these people are conducted on the water. We passed their houses, shops, medical clinics, schools, police stations, and churches, all floating individually, accessed by personal canoe. Everyone on the boat eagerly took pictures. The locals seemed both bored and frustrated with the photography. Every day several boats filled with tourists pass from Siem Riep to Battambang through these towns thanks to the new review by the Lonely Planet that this route was well worthwhile (hence the ridiculous price). Here these people were living their day to day lives the way they knew and we passed surprisingly close. We could see straight into homes, people working, children playing, people bathing. Unlike taking a tour of a village or walking through, we didn’t have permission to be there, we couldn’t stop and say hello or ask permission to take a picture. These people happened to live on the main water route between two cities, a route which had just be greatly popularized by travel guides, attracting more and more foreigners to pass through their homes. Of course, I took photos too, but it did strike me as more invasive than a land trip, these people had given no permission for us to pass through and we passed so close and so slowly.
The rest of the nearly 8 hour trip was tedious. Our seats were uncomfortable; we were on benches facing the middle of the boat, knees almost touching the person on the other side facing inwards. As we got further inland the river became smaller and windy. It’s the dry season so we were actually lucky to be able to have enough water this time of year. It was extremely slow going. The driver carefully navigated around the bends, the boy at the bow sometimes had to use a large wooden pole to push us away from the approaching mud bank. And we had slowed to such a pace that we no longer had the relief of a breeze to cool us down.
Eventually we reached Battambang and my decision of whether to stay the night or continue to Pursat was made easy when I quickly found a bus leaving immediately for the direction I was headed. And so, I was on to Pursat where I hoped to find a way to enter the mysterious Cardamom Mountains.
I’m glad I got to see the floating villages; I would have otherwise missed this characteristic scene of Cambodia. The cost of bus transport to Battambang and a tour of the floating villages would definitely have added to more than $20, so I guess it was worth it? A bus to Battambang would have been a lot more comfortable and probably shorter. Perhaps if I had been more in the mindset of a long uncomfortable boat ride when I started the day I wouldn’t have been so uncomfortable…
Reflections at Angkor Wat
March 3, 2010
I left my guesthouse this morning at 5:15am to head to Angkor Wat for sunrise. It was dark and I didn’t have a light on my bike so I considered hiring a tuk-tuk to take me and my bike there. Outside of my guesthouse were several tuk-tuks, but I quickly discovered that they were all waiting on customers. Just as I was asking one more driver two bikes were headed down the street, and they had lights. “Are you going to Angkor?” I called out to them, “Can I join you?” “Sure,” they said in the dark. I felt fine about riding with other people. I quickly found out that my bike buddies were Dutch, of course.
As we approached the complex the sky began to turn pink and purple. Already the humidity clung to me as I rode. It would be a hot day. Evelien and Johan had already ridden by Angkor the previous day, but we were all in awe as the impressive silhouette came into view across the moat. 2 million people visit Angkor Wat each year. Despite being 6am the tour buses were rolling in.
We sat on the massive lawn that stretches in front of the Angkor temple. The sky turned to gold and soon rays of light were piercing the sky from the top of the temple. As the sun began to appear over the peaks of the temple I couldn't help but have one song playing in my mind. Anyone that has known me for more than a year should know which one it is… The Circle of Life from the Lion King of course! Wrong continent perhaps, but the epic feeling of seeing the sun rise over the temple was the same as the feeling which the Lion King inspires in the opening scene. I daresay it may have been better.
The three of us roamed Angkor for over 2 hours, taking in the details and grandeur of the temple. Angkor is incredible. The thousands of intricate carvings, reliefs, and ornamentation are in remarkably good condition. The amount of work and level of skill that was poured into producing Angkor is hard for me to imagine. I learned at the national museum in Siem Riep, yesterday evening, that the stone the builders used had to be floated into the site from 50km away. The entire complex is meant to model the connection between heaven and earth. The temple is dedicated to the Hindu god Vishnu. It wasn’t until I started reading about Angkor in my LP several days earlier that I even knew the temple and surrounding ruins were built by a civilization that worshipped Hinduism. Hindu traders and explorers came to Cambodia over 1000 years ago. They brought with them the Sanskrit language as well as the religion. When ships made it to Cambodia they often had to wait 6 months for the trade winds to change direction for them to return to India. This gave them plenty of time to share their beliefs. As a previously animistic culture I think perhaps the Khmers were eager devotees to their new grand gods of Vishnu, Shiva, and Brahma.
As the world’s largest religious monument, Angkor Wat represents a surprising truth, the largest Hindu temple was not build in India or by Indians, but in Cambodia by the Khmers. And it has yet to be outdone. About 4 centuries after it was build, around the 15th century (don’t cite me on these dates), Angkor and its surrounding monuments were rededicated to the now predominant religion of Buddhism and Buddha’s image was added to most shrines. Many people claim Angkor Wat represents one of the most powerful energetic centers on the planet.
...
Mom would love it here. I can picture her holding dad and I up from exploring further because she would insist on meditating for half-an-hour under one of the ancient trees reaching its roots into the ruins. Surely she would say something along the lines of “Isn’t it incredible, look how these trees grow so big here, tapping into the energy within the temples.” If I pointed out that they were probably just really old because they were protected here, she would give me a patronizing look that would say, “my little scientist has so much still to learn.” Then she would proceed to show off by finding the various deities on the walls and reciting an appropriate Sanskrit verse by heart. And dad and I would make fun behind her back. Then for lunch mom and I would share a plate of French fries and enjoy cold cokes while dad lectured about the dangers of a caffeine addiction. We would make fun behind his back, rolling our eyes and toasting to rebellion.
And now I sit alone with my cold coke, taking a break from the heat, contemplating the evolution of Hinduism. Thinking of the religion’s influence in my mother’s life and here in Cambodia makes me realize how much more international than I ever realized Hinduism is. I had no idea when I began my trip I would encounter so many connections to Hinduism before I reached India. As a result of my continual, unintentional connection to the religion through love and travel I recently decided to make an effort to learn about the religion that played so huge a role in my mother’s, and now my boyfriend’s life.
With my new handy-dandy Kindle I downloaded a book on Hinduism several weeks ago. Having seen depictions of the Ramayan on temple walls in Laos I was curious about the overlap between Hinduism and Buddhism, what history and philosophies they shared. The book was fascinating though basic. I learned about the Vedas and Upanishads, the ancient texts that form the foundation of Hinduism. I became curious to read them, and added them to my mental list of religious texts I’ve always said I wanted to read. Than it occurred to me, what better time to start reading these texts than while I’m travelling. I’ve now just started reading the Qur’an and after that I’ll read the Old Testament.
What has become clear to me so far is that these religions are founded on much simpler and purer philosophies than what they eventually evolve to incorporate through the pressures, needs, and corruption of society. It’s easy to say people misinterpret their religion or are misguided, but it’s fascinating to actually see what the religion was once based on and where exactly people derail.
I now know that what drew my mother to Hinduism were the ancient philosophies of God’s relation to the earth and the universe and the wisdom in the ancient texts on how to find personal enlightenment, though she participated in more modern practices of devotion as well. The book I read describes the new generation of Hindus, particularly those living outside of India, as creating a new wave of Hinduism that returns to the basic tenants of the religion, with more emphasis on personal devotion focusing on the ideas of karma and finding your inner Brahman. The book mentions that Hinduism is a religion that has continued to evolve over the past 3000 years, adapting new practices, stories, and ideas. It is also known for not letting any traditions die, allowing it to grow ever more complex, combining the ancient, the old, and the new. Perhaps the new generation is starting to let some old traditions expire.
If all religions could find a way to return to their roots and let go of some nostalgic ways of thinking, I believe the world would be a more peaceful place. In Hinduism the ancient caste system not only signifies family heritage but continues to support segregation and often discrimination. In Christianity the definition of marriage is far outdated, and the understanding of values in regards to stem-cell research has blocked America from funding and conducting life-saving research. In some Islamic countries the Qu’ran has been badly misinterpreted to permit the abuse of women. In Judaism the ancient text that declares that someone is a Jew if born to a Jewish mother discourages children born to a Jewish father from fully identifying with her Jewish heritage because others don’t acknowledge her heritage.
All religions seem to have found ways to support some form of sexual and racial discrimination still today in 2010. I think many of my friends and I are aware of this and so we identify as “not religious.” When my mother became devoutly “spiritual,” eventually studying mainly Hinduism I wanted nothing to do with it. But now I feel ready to learn from the religions of the world and take what I can from them. I am not looking for a religion to identify with or some personal transformation. I’m curious about what I can learn from the ancients who surely have something to share with us. Already I feel my readings have begun to reshape my understanding of the ways the world does and does not work.
...
After contemplating religion in the middle of the day I resumed my solo bike tour around the many ruins that are equally impressive, if not as grand, as Angkor Wat. The temperature climbed to 39 degrees Celsius I was told, and I’m not surprised. Every time I had to get on and off the bike, get something out of my backpack, or decide whether or not to climb another set of stone steps I felt like I was losing every bit of my energy in the form of sweat. But the actual act of biking was very pleasant, the moving air was refreshing. The area is completely flat and at most there is only 3km between each ruin. I would highly recommend renting a bike as your mode of transportation for a tour of Angkor. I felt much more independent, getting to decide where to stop, how long to stay in each place, and knowing that I didn’t have anyone waiting on me. And it’s really nice to ride through the jungle and be able to hear the birds and cicadas.
I had been on and off my bike since 5:30am and by the time I got back to my guesthouse it was 7pm. I hadn’t realized just how exhausted I was from the day until I lay down on my bed and unintentionally fell fast asleep, not waking up until 9:30pm, confused where I was. I dragged myself out to a drowsy dinner and back to bed for the night.
March 4, 2010
At the advice of Evelien and Johan I called a tuk-tuk driver who goes by the name Mr. Kong. They had hired him to take them around the ruins their first day and they said he was wonderful. They said he was very sweet and a bit shy. He tended to park his tuk-tuk in the shade away from the other tuk-tuk drivers when he waited at each temple for them. I like the sound of him. There were so many over-eager tuk-tuk drivers in Siem Riep competing for business, and enough of them were young men who seemed as eager for the business as the company of a young woman traveling solo. I was nervous about finding a tuk-tuk driver who I wouldn’t have to answer awkward questions from and withstand annoying stares and attention.
Mr. Kong agreed on a price of $20 for the day, which was reasonable considering I wanted to go to the furthest away site, Kbal Spean 60km from Siem Riep. But I didn’t bargain, that was the initial price he offered and I thought it was fair for his full day of service. Mr. Kong was exactly as they had described. He was very patient and shared his knowledge of the ruins softly but confidently. He came across to me as a very intelligent man.
I visited the beautiful Kbal Spean, Hindu carvings into a rock riverbed in the forest that you hike 2km to. It really was a refreshing change from the large temples, as suggested by the almighty Lonely Planet. The LP suggested stopping at another temple called Bantei Sray before coming to Kbal Spean, but Mr. Kong took me to Kbal Spean first because he said it was better to hike up before the heat came, and I’m thankful for his recommendation. I think I was actually the first tourist there in the morning because there was no one at the river when I got there, or anyone on the trail, which was extremely refreshing. As I hiked back down I began to pass other tourists, no doubt also tipped off to visit by the LP.
I visited the 3 remaining temples I had yet to see and stopped finally at Angkor Wat to admire her one more time. I asked Mr. Kong if he liked ice cream. His response was more enthusiastic than I expected. “Ok!” I smiled, “When I get back from Angkor Wat we’ll get some ice cream.” He bowed his head shyly to say yes. I enjoyed Angkor Wat this time without taking pictures but just taking in the perfect symmetry and elaborate carvings. I lit a incense inside the temple for mom.
The previous day when Evelien, Johan, and I had finished our tour of Angkor Wat we had treated ourselves to amazingly delicious ice cream from a fancy restaurant / shop across from the temple’s moat. I had, nontraditionally, chosen against chocolate in favor of the cooling yoghurt raspberry flavor they had. But now I felt the need to go back for their “dark chocolate” ice cream. When I returned to Mr. Kong at his tuk-tuk I said, “Ok! Let’s get some ice cream, my treat.”
He led the way to the ice cream van selling packaged ice creams in the parking lot. I explained that I would like to go to the place I went yesterday because the ice cream there is very very good. I realized as I led him into the posh, air-conditioned restaurant that he may feel extremely out of place there (even I felt out of place there). But I opened the door for him and walked confidently inside. I could see the waiters looked confused, why was a tuk-tuk driver with this girl, and why were they coming in here? I ignored them and smiled inwardly as Mr. Kong smoothed his hair nervously. We went up to the ice-cream counter and I ordered my one-scoop of chocolate ice cream on a waffle cone. Oh how mom would have loved that waffle cone, she used to always steal my cones after I ate most of the ice cream.
I asked Mr. Kong which flavor he wanted. He was really hesitant. I think he was uncomfortable letting me treat him here since he had thought we would be getting the cheaper ice cream from the van. “Please, it’s my treat. The ice cream here reminds me of my home. Please pick a flavor.” With that he chose strawberry.
We sat down at a table by the door and enjoyed our ice creams. I savored the rich chocolate flavor, a chocolate that was very hard to come by in this part of the world. And the texture of the ice cream, almost gelato but better. Such luxury!
Mr. Kong had told me earlier that he grew up near Siem Riep. Both of his parents died, his father when he was very young and his mother died when he was a teenager. Now it was just him and his younger brother in the world together (I think he said he was 27 years old). He had told me easily that he had gone to college for 2 years but couldn’t finish because it was too expensive. I think it was important to him that I knew he went to school. He said he would like to finish his degree when he can.
In the restaurant I asked more about him. After his mother died he lived with his aunt. Then, after secondary school, he moved to Phnom Phen to go to college. He studied during the day and worked at night as a waiter to try to support himself in the city. Eventually, it got too expensive for him so he returned to Siem Riep. I asked what he studied. He told me computer programming. I asked him if there are scholarship programs in the colleges, he answered “Java.” I smiled; my “scholarship” must have sounded like “script.” I repeated my question and he told me that the scholarships are reserved for the students with the very top grades, not necessarily those that need the money. That didn’t make sense to me, because the top students would probably be the ones that came from a stronger secondary education and therefore from wealthier families.
Mr. Kong had returned to Siem Riep and found a job as a hotel host. But, he said, being a hotel host only pays $80/month, and Siem Riep is an expensive place to live. He thought about it and decided to save money to buy a tuk-tuk. With only 5-7 clients per month he could be making more money than in the hotel. But this isn’t easy because there are so many tuk-tuk drivers competing for passengers in Siem Riep. And Mr. Kong is definitely not one of the more aggressive ones about finding passengers. I can’t picture him driving around the city and yelling at every Westerner to have him show them around the ruins like the other drivers do. His mobile number is one of 10 drivers that a hotel Evelien and Johan were staying at has listed, and Mr. Kong was lucky that he was the one that the hotel decided to call that day. As was I, otherwise I wouldn’t have been given his number by Evelien and Johan (Mr Kong: 012855968).
Mr. Kong asked what I thought of Angkor Wat. I said it’s beautiful and amazing that people could build something so grand so many years ago. He of course agreed; Angkor Wat is a source of incredible pride for the Khmers, it’s even the image on their national flag.
I asked something I had been wondering. Angkor Wat was built to revere the Hindu religion but then it became a Buddhist monument when the popular religion shifted; why did the Khmers leave Hinduism and embrace Buddhism? He explained that the king was Hindu, so the kingdom was declared Hindu, but when Buddhism was introduced the ideas were more popular. “Good ideas,” he said. But, he explained, many stories from Hinduism still exist in Khmer culture and spirituality, particularly the ever popular Ramayan.
Without me asking he volunteered, “I’m not Buddhist. I don’t think one religion is good, better.” I was intrigued, “You don’t like religion?”
“I think all religion have good idea and bad idea. I like the good idea. I think if I do good action then good for me, and if I do bad action than bad.”
“Karma?” I asked.
“Yes, Karma. That is good idea in Hinduism.” He smiled, “Buddhism have many good ideas too, and Muslim. But I don’t think I am only one religion. I believe all religion.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “Maybe if everyone thinks like you we have more peace in the world.”
“Yes,” Mr. Kong bowed his head in agreement, “Maybe.”
I highly recommend Mr. Kong as your tuk-tuk driver in Siem Riep / Angkor Wat. And I highly recommend visiting Angkor Wat once in your life time; it is, after all, one of the strongest energetic portals in the world…
~ For my mother, who inspired me through her many travel adventures and studies to explore the world and open my mind to different cultures and beliefs.
...
You can contact Mr. Kong by his mobile number: 012855968. Call him a day in advance to arrange for him to pick you up early in the morning to begin your tour. Your guesthouse/hotel will be happy to call him for you. This information will be posted on the Lonely Planet Thorn Tree Travel Forum.
I left my guesthouse this morning at 5:15am to head to Angkor Wat for sunrise. It was dark and I didn’t have a light on my bike so I considered hiring a tuk-tuk to take me and my bike there. Outside of my guesthouse were several tuk-tuks, but I quickly discovered that they were all waiting on customers. Just as I was asking one more driver two bikes were headed down the street, and they had lights. “Are you going to Angkor?” I called out to them, “Can I join you?” “Sure,” they said in the dark. I felt fine about riding with other people. I quickly found out that my bike buddies were Dutch, of course.
As we approached the complex the sky began to turn pink and purple. Already the humidity clung to me as I rode. It would be a hot day. Evelien and Johan had already ridden by Angkor the previous day, but we were all in awe as the impressive silhouette came into view across the moat. 2 million people visit Angkor Wat each year. Despite being 6am the tour buses were rolling in.
We sat on the massive lawn that stretches in front of the Angkor temple. The sky turned to gold and soon rays of light were piercing the sky from the top of the temple. As the sun began to appear over the peaks of the temple I couldn't help but have one song playing in my mind. Anyone that has known me for more than a year should know which one it is… The Circle of Life from the Lion King of course! Wrong continent perhaps, but the epic feeling of seeing the sun rise over the temple was the same as the feeling which the Lion King inspires in the opening scene. I daresay it may have been better.
The three of us roamed Angkor for over 2 hours, taking in the details and grandeur of the temple. Angkor is incredible. The thousands of intricate carvings, reliefs, and ornamentation are in remarkably good condition. The amount of work and level of skill that was poured into producing Angkor is hard for me to imagine. I learned at the national museum in Siem Riep, yesterday evening, that the stone the builders used had to be floated into the site from 50km away. The entire complex is meant to model the connection between heaven and earth. The temple is dedicated to the Hindu god Vishnu. It wasn’t until I started reading about Angkor in my LP several days earlier that I even knew the temple and surrounding ruins were built by a civilization that worshipped Hinduism. Hindu traders and explorers came to Cambodia over 1000 years ago. They brought with them the Sanskrit language as well as the religion. When ships made it to Cambodia they often had to wait 6 months for the trade winds to change direction for them to return to India. This gave them plenty of time to share their beliefs. As a previously animistic culture I think perhaps the Khmers were eager devotees to their new grand gods of Vishnu, Shiva, and Brahma.
As the world’s largest religious monument, Angkor Wat represents a surprising truth, the largest Hindu temple was not build in India or by Indians, but in Cambodia by the Khmers. And it has yet to be outdone. About 4 centuries after it was build, around the 15th century (don’t cite me on these dates), Angkor and its surrounding monuments were rededicated to the now predominant religion of Buddhism and Buddha’s image was added to most shrines. Many people claim Angkor Wat represents one of the most powerful energetic centers on the planet.
...
Mom would love it here. I can picture her holding dad and I up from exploring further because she would insist on meditating for half-an-hour under one of the ancient trees reaching its roots into the ruins. Surely she would say something along the lines of “Isn’t it incredible, look how these trees grow so big here, tapping into the energy within the temples.” If I pointed out that they were probably just really old because they were protected here, she would give me a patronizing look that would say, “my little scientist has so much still to learn.” Then she would proceed to show off by finding the various deities on the walls and reciting an appropriate Sanskrit verse by heart. And dad and I would make fun behind her back. Then for lunch mom and I would share a plate of French fries and enjoy cold cokes while dad lectured about the dangers of a caffeine addiction. We would make fun behind his back, rolling our eyes and toasting to rebellion.
And now I sit alone with my cold coke, taking a break from the heat, contemplating the evolution of Hinduism. Thinking of the religion’s influence in my mother’s life and here in Cambodia makes me realize how much more international than I ever realized Hinduism is. I had no idea when I began my trip I would encounter so many connections to Hinduism before I reached India. As a result of my continual, unintentional connection to the religion through love and travel I recently decided to make an effort to learn about the religion that played so huge a role in my mother’s, and now my boyfriend’s life.
With my new handy-dandy Kindle I downloaded a book on Hinduism several weeks ago. Having seen depictions of the Ramayan on temple walls in Laos I was curious about the overlap between Hinduism and Buddhism, what history and philosophies they shared. The book was fascinating though basic. I learned about the Vedas and Upanishads, the ancient texts that form the foundation of Hinduism. I became curious to read them, and added them to my mental list of religious texts I’ve always said I wanted to read. Than it occurred to me, what better time to start reading these texts than while I’m travelling. I’ve now just started reading the Qur’an and after that I’ll read the Old Testament.
What has become clear to me so far is that these religions are founded on much simpler and purer philosophies than what they eventually evolve to incorporate through the pressures, needs, and corruption of society. It’s easy to say people misinterpret their religion or are misguided, but it’s fascinating to actually see what the religion was once based on and where exactly people derail.
I now know that what drew my mother to Hinduism were the ancient philosophies of God’s relation to the earth and the universe and the wisdom in the ancient texts on how to find personal enlightenment, though she participated in more modern practices of devotion as well. The book I read describes the new generation of Hindus, particularly those living outside of India, as creating a new wave of Hinduism that returns to the basic tenants of the religion, with more emphasis on personal devotion focusing on the ideas of karma and finding your inner Brahman. The book mentions that Hinduism is a religion that has continued to evolve over the past 3000 years, adapting new practices, stories, and ideas. It is also known for not letting any traditions die, allowing it to grow ever more complex, combining the ancient, the old, and the new. Perhaps the new generation is starting to let some old traditions expire.
If all religions could find a way to return to their roots and let go of some nostalgic ways of thinking, I believe the world would be a more peaceful place. In Hinduism the ancient caste system not only signifies family heritage but continues to support segregation and often discrimination. In Christianity the definition of marriage is far outdated, and the understanding of values in regards to stem-cell research has blocked America from funding and conducting life-saving research. In some Islamic countries the Qu’ran has been badly misinterpreted to permit the abuse of women. In Judaism the ancient text that declares that someone is a Jew if born to a Jewish mother discourages children born to a Jewish father from fully identifying with her Jewish heritage because others don’t acknowledge her heritage.
All religions seem to have found ways to support some form of sexual and racial discrimination still today in 2010. I think many of my friends and I are aware of this and so we identify as “not religious.” When my mother became devoutly “spiritual,” eventually studying mainly Hinduism I wanted nothing to do with it. But now I feel ready to learn from the religions of the world and take what I can from them. I am not looking for a religion to identify with or some personal transformation. I’m curious about what I can learn from the ancients who surely have something to share with us. Already I feel my readings have begun to reshape my understanding of the ways the world does and does not work.
...
After contemplating religion in the middle of the day I resumed my solo bike tour around the many ruins that are equally impressive, if not as grand, as Angkor Wat. The temperature climbed to 39 degrees Celsius I was told, and I’m not surprised. Every time I had to get on and off the bike, get something out of my backpack, or decide whether or not to climb another set of stone steps I felt like I was losing every bit of my energy in the form of sweat. But the actual act of biking was very pleasant, the moving air was refreshing. The area is completely flat and at most there is only 3km between each ruin. I would highly recommend renting a bike as your mode of transportation for a tour of Angkor. I felt much more independent, getting to decide where to stop, how long to stay in each place, and knowing that I didn’t have anyone waiting on me. And it’s really nice to ride through the jungle and be able to hear the birds and cicadas.
I had been on and off my bike since 5:30am and by the time I got back to my guesthouse it was 7pm. I hadn’t realized just how exhausted I was from the day until I lay down on my bed and unintentionally fell fast asleep, not waking up until 9:30pm, confused where I was. I dragged myself out to a drowsy dinner and back to bed for the night.
March 4, 2010
At the advice of Evelien and Johan I called a tuk-tuk driver who goes by the name Mr. Kong. They had hired him to take them around the ruins their first day and they said he was wonderful. They said he was very sweet and a bit shy. He tended to park his tuk-tuk in the shade away from the other tuk-tuk drivers when he waited at each temple for them. I like the sound of him. There were so many over-eager tuk-tuk drivers in Siem Riep competing for business, and enough of them were young men who seemed as eager for the business as the company of a young woman traveling solo. I was nervous about finding a tuk-tuk driver who I wouldn’t have to answer awkward questions from and withstand annoying stares and attention.
Mr. Kong agreed on a price of $20 for the day, which was reasonable considering I wanted to go to the furthest away site, Kbal Spean 60km from Siem Riep. But I didn’t bargain, that was the initial price he offered and I thought it was fair for his full day of service. Mr. Kong was exactly as they had described. He was very patient and shared his knowledge of the ruins softly but confidently. He came across to me as a very intelligent man.
I visited the beautiful Kbal Spean, Hindu carvings into a rock riverbed in the forest that you hike 2km to. It really was a refreshing change from the large temples, as suggested by the almighty Lonely Planet. The LP suggested stopping at another temple called Bantei Sray before coming to Kbal Spean, but Mr. Kong took me to Kbal Spean first because he said it was better to hike up before the heat came, and I’m thankful for his recommendation. I think I was actually the first tourist there in the morning because there was no one at the river when I got there, or anyone on the trail, which was extremely refreshing. As I hiked back down I began to pass other tourists, no doubt also tipped off to visit by the LP.
I visited the 3 remaining temples I had yet to see and stopped finally at Angkor Wat to admire her one more time. I asked Mr. Kong if he liked ice cream. His response was more enthusiastic than I expected. “Ok!” I smiled, “When I get back from Angkor Wat we’ll get some ice cream.” He bowed his head shyly to say yes. I enjoyed Angkor Wat this time without taking pictures but just taking in the perfect symmetry and elaborate carvings. I lit a incense inside the temple for mom.
The previous day when Evelien, Johan, and I had finished our tour of Angkor Wat we had treated ourselves to amazingly delicious ice cream from a fancy restaurant / shop across from the temple’s moat. I had, nontraditionally, chosen against chocolate in favor of the cooling yoghurt raspberry flavor they had. But now I felt the need to go back for their “dark chocolate” ice cream. When I returned to Mr. Kong at his tuk-tuk I said, “Ok! Let’s get some ice cream, my treat.”
He led the way to the ice cream van selling packaged ice creams in the parking lot. I explained that I would like to go to the place I went yesterday because the ice cream there is very very good. I realized as I led him into the posh, air-conditioned restaurant that he may feel extremely out of place there (even I felt out of place there). But I opened the door for him and walked confidently inside. I could see the waiters looked confused, why was a tuk-tuk driver with this girl, and why were they coming in here? I ignored them and smiled inwardly as Mr. Kong smoothed his hair nervously. We went up to the ice-cream counter and I ordered my one-scoop of chocolate ice cream on a waffle cone. Oh how mom would have loved that waffle cone, she used to always steal my cones after I ate most of the ice cream.
I asked Mr. Kong which flavor he wanted. He was really hesitant. I think he was uncomfortable letting me treat him here since he had thought we would be getting the cheaper ice cream from the van. “Please, it’s my treat. The ice cream here reminds me of my home. Please pick a flavor.” With that he chose strawberry.
We sat down at a table by the door and enjoyed our ice creams. I savored the rich chocolate flavor, a chocolate that was very hard to come by in this part of the world. And the texture of the ice cream, almost gelato but better. Such luxury!
Mr. Kong had told me earlier that he grew up near Siem Riep. Both of his parents died, his father when he was very young and his mother died when he was a teenager. Now it was just him and his younger brother in the world together (I think he said he was 27 years old). He had told me easily that he had gone to college for 2 years but couldn’t finish because it was too expensive. I think it was important to him that I knew he went to school. He said he would like to finish his degree when he can.
In the restaurant I asked more about him. After his mother died he lived with his aunt. Then, after secondary school, he moved to Phnom Phen to go to college. He studied during the day and worked at night as a waiter to try to support himself in the city. Eventually, it got too expensive for him so he returned to Siem Riep. I asked what he studied. He told me computer programming. I asked him if there are scholarship programs in the colleges, he answered “Java.” I smiled; my “scholarship” must have sounded like “script.” I repeated my question and he told me that the scholarships are reserved for the students with the very top grades, not necessarily those that need the money. That didn’t make sense to me, because the top students would probably be the ones that came from a stronger secondary education and therefore from wealthier families.
Mr. Kong had returned to Siem Riep and found a job as a hotel host. But, he said, being a hotel host only pays $80/month, and Siem Riep is an expensive place to live. He thought about it and decided to save money to buy a tuk-tuk. With only 5-7 clients per month he could be making more money than in the hotel. But this isn’t easy because there are so many tuk-tuk drivers competing for passengers in Siem Riep. And Mr. Kong is definitely not one of the more aggressive ones about finding passengers. I can’t picture him driving around the city and yelling at every Westerner to have him show them around the ruins like the other drivers do. His mobile number is one of 10 drivers that a hotel Evelien and Johan were staying at has listed, and Mr. Kong was lucky that he was the one that the hotel decided to call that day. As was I, otherwise I wouldn’t have been given his number by Evelien and Johan (Mr Kong: 012855968).
Mr. Kong asked what I thought of Angkor Wat. I said it’s beautiful and amazing that people could build something so grand so many years ago. He of course agreed; Angkor Wat is a source of incredible pride for the Khmers, it’s even the image on their national flag.
I asked something I had been wondering. Angkor Wat was built to revere the Hindu religion but then it became a Buddhist monument when the popular religion shifted; why did the Khmers leave Hinduism and embrace Buddhism? He explained that the king was Hindu, so the kingdom was declared Hindu, but when Buddhism was introduced the ideas were more popular. “Good ideas,” he said. But, he explained, many stories from Hinduism still exist in Khmer culture and spirituality, particularly the ever popular Ramayan.
Without me asking he volunteered, “I’m not Buddhist. I don’t think one religion is good, better.” I was intrigued, “You don’t like religion?”
“I think all religion have good idea and bad idea. I like the good idea. I think if I do good action then good for me, and if I do bad action than bad.”
“Karma?” I asked.
“Yes, Karma. That is good idea in Hinduism.” He smiled, “Buddhism have many good ideas too, and Muslim. But I don’t think I am only one religion. I believe all religion.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “Maybe if everyone thinks like you we have more peace in the world.”
“Yes,” Mr. Kong bowed his head in agreement, “Maybe.”
I highly recommend Mr. Kong as your tuk-tuk driver in Siem Riep / Angkor Wat. And I highly recommend visiting Angkor Wat once in your life time; it is, after all, one of the strongest energetic portals in the world…
~ For my mother, who inspired me through her many travel adventures and studies to explore the world and open my mind to different cultures and beliefs.
...
You can contact Mr. Kong by his mobile number: 012855968. Call him a day in advance to arrange for him to pick you up early in the morning to begin your tour. Your guesthouse/hotel will be happy to call him for you. This information will be posted on the Lonely Planet Thorn Tree Travel Forum.
Competition for the Magic School Bus
March 2nd, 2010
I bought my bus ticket to Siem Riep from my guesthouse. The woman there said I could book a ticket on the normal bus, but for only $1 more I could go with the “luxury” bus. Luxury? Yeah right. My bus experiences here don’t support the idea that there are luxury buses. But, she assured me that this bus wouldn’t be stopping and would get to Siem Riep faster. Ok, why not? I was headed to the largest tourist attraction in Cambodia, if not in SE Asia, Angkor Wat. I may as well go in style…
A van picked me up from my guesthouse and took me to the bus, the shiny clean bus! At the bus they took my bags and gave me a luggage number! I got on the bus and they asked to see my ticket to direct me to my assigned seat! There was a working bathroom (that didn’t smell) on the bus! Each seat had a free bottle of water waiting for its passenger! Once the bus started to leave Phnom Phen the conductor walked down the aisle handing out clothes to clean your hands! We stopped at a nice restaurant for lunch (30min), which had a really really nice bathroom with multiple stalls! And, to top it all off, we arrived ahead of time in Siem Riep!!
If you have a chance to travel with the company Sok Sokha while in Cambodia, I highly recommend it. Especially if you have been taking a lot of local transport, it’s a refreshing change.
I bought my bus ticket to Siem Riep from my guesthouse. The woman there said I could book a ticket on the normal bus, but for only $1 more I could go with the “luxury” bus. Luxury? Yeah right. My bus experiences here don’t support the idea that there are luxury buses. But, she assured me that this bus wouldn’t be stopping and would get to Siem Riep faster. Ok, why not? I was headed to the largest tourist attraction in Cambodia, if not in SE Asia, Angkor Wat. I may as well go in style…
A van picked me up from my guesthouse and took me to the bus, the shiny clean bus! At the bus they took my bags and gave me a luggage number! I got on the bus and they asked to see my ticket to direct me to my assigned seat! There was a working bathroom (that didn’t smell) on the bus! Each seat had a free bottle of water waiting for its passenger! Once the bus started to leave Phnom Phen the conductor walked down the aisle handing out clothes to clean your hands! We stopped at a nice restaurant for lunch (30min), which had a really really nice bathroom with multiple stalls! And, to top it all off, we arrived ahead of time in Siem Riep!!
If you have a chance to travel with the company Sok Sokha while in Cambodia, I highly recommend it. Especially if you have been taking a lot of local transport, it’s a refreshing change.
Good Luck in Phnom Phen
February 28, 2010
On the bus from Sen Menorum to Phnom Phen I sat by a sweet British woman named Shilpa. Her family is Gujarati so we passed some time talking about India. I asked her for recommendations on what temples and religious sites were the most worth visiting in Gujarat since had done a pilgrimage there and Atish and I wouldn’t have time to see everything.
The bus made several stops on the nearly 10 hour trip to PP, which was badly needed because the windows didn’t open and the AC didn’t work. We were trapped in a sauna the entire trip. I drank over 2 litres of water and never had to go pee… Stepping off the bus into the heat and humidity of the afternoon was a welcome change from the still, sticky air in the bus and a chance to move from our positions of being suctioned to the vinyl bus seats from our own sweat. The second to last stop I was particularly out of it. I bought some biscuits and another bottle of water and sat down besides a miraculous fan for a couple minutes. As I was staring off into space I heard “Zyanya?” from in front of me. I look up and there is Asaf standing in front of me, the Israeli that I had done the bike trip with to the Kong Lo cave in Lao. I knew he was also headed south into Cambodia, but he had more travel time so was staying in Lao longer to see more. I guess my time in Mondulkiri resulted in us meeting at this one of many bus stops. We chatted for a while, catching up on our latest adventures. After a couple minutes my bus honked, time to go. It was wonderful to run into someone I actually knew, it made the world (or SE Asia) seem so much smaller.
Once we arrived in Phnom Phen I immediately found a tuk-tuk to take me to my guesthouse. Everytime I get to a destination I am eager to find where I am staying and set my bag down safely. I forgot to say goodbye to Shilpa.
My Lonely Planet mentioned a theater that performed traditional Khmer dance and shadow puppet shows. I was still new to Cambodia and wanted to experience some of the traditional art forms. They only performed on Fridays and Saturdays, so being Saturday it was my only chance to go. I made it to the theater in time and settled onto a bench with a soda to hold me over until I could find dinner after the show. I look to my left and there is Shilpa sitting next to me, also with a can of soda! Two amazing coincidences in one day!
Just before the show started she realized she lost her camera. I felt so bad for her. I don’t know what I would do if lost my camera while traveling. I try to upload my pictures as often as I can, but there is always a loss of some pictures, which is really just tragic. Especially when you are traveling alone, your camera is your one constant companion. To lose it and all of the visual memories would be horrible. After the show I go with Shilpa to retrace her steps in the north part of the city by the river. We go into a couple shops, asking if a camera was left. It was hard to find the exact internet place she used. We head into one and the woman behind the desk instantly recognizes her and pulls out a camera case, “yours!” “Yes!! Thank you so much!” Shilpa was overwhelmed by the relief, as I would be if it had been me. Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t lost more yet on this trip. The only thing I’ve lost is my headlight, which I left under a blanket in my hotel room in Vientiane. I had realized it about an hour into a bus ride suddenly. This experience has made me pay even closer attention to what I take out of my bag.
On the bus from Sen Menorum to Phnom Phen I sat by a sweet British woman named Shilpa. Her family is Gujarati so we passed some time talking about India. I asked her for recommendations on what temples and religious sites were the most worth visiting in Gujarat since had done a pilgrimage there and Atish and I wouldn’t have time to see everything.
The bus made several stops on the nearly 10 hour trip to PP, which was badly needed because the windows didn’t open and the AC didn’t work. We were trapped in a sauna the entire trip. I drank over 2 litres of water and never had to go pee… Stepping off the bus into the heat and humidity of the afternoon was a welcome change from the still, sticky air in the bus and a chance to move from our positions of being suctioned to the vinyl bus seats from our own sweat. The second to last stop I was particularly out of it. I bought some biscuits and another bottle of water and sat down besides a miraculous fan for a couple minutes. As I was staring off into space I heard “Zyanya?” from in front of me. I look up and there is Asaf standing in front of me, the Israeli that I had done the bike trip with to the Kong Lo cave in Lao. I knew he was also headed south into Cambodia, but he had more travel time so was staying in Lao longer to see more. I guess my time in Mondulkiri resulted in us meeting at this one of many bus stops. We chatted for a while, catching up on our latest adventures. After a couple minutes my bus honked, time to go. It was wonderful to run into someone I actually knew, it made the world (or SE Asia) seem so much smaller.
Once we arrived in Phnom Phen I immediately found a tuk-tuk to take me to my guesthouse. Everytime I get to a destination I am eager to find where I am staying and set my bag down safely. I forgot to say goodbye to Shilpa.
My Lonely Planet mentioned a theater that performed traditional Khmer dance and shadow puppet shows. I was still new to Cambodia and wanted to experience some of the traditional art forms. They only performed on Fridays and Saturdays, so being Saturday it was my only chance to go. I made it to the theater in time and settled onto a bench with a soda to hold me over until I could find dinner after the show. I look to my left and there is Shilpa sitting next to me, also with a can of soda! Two amazing coincidences in one day!
Just before the show started she realized she lost her camera. I felt so bad for her. I don’t know what I would do if lost my camera while traveling. I try to upload my pictures as often as I can, but there is always a loss of some pictures, which is really just tragic. Especially when you are traveling alone, your camera is your one constant companion. To lose it and all of the visual memories would be horrible. After the show I go with Shilpa to retrace her steps in the north part of the city by the river. We go into a couple shops, asking if a camera was left. It was hard to find the exact internet place she used. We head into one and the woman behind the desk instantly recognizes her and pulls out a camera case, “yours!” “Yes!! Thank you so much!” Shilpa was overwhelmed by the relief, as I would be if it had been me. Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t lost more yet on this trip. The only thing I’ve lost is my headlight, which I left under a blanket in my hotel room in Vientiane. I had realized it about an hour into a bus ride suddenly. This experience has made me pay even closer attention to what I take out of my bag.
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