Retail Therapy

A production along Hoi An's waterfront
After our grueling bicycle ride from Dalat, Lee and I decided we were due some serious R'n'R. And as it turned out, the small town of Hoi An (the final stop on our bike tour) was probably one of the best places in Vietnam to do just that. A World Heritage site, Hoi An's narrow cobblestoned streets are lined with traditional Vietnamese buildings (which were, fortunately, largely spared during the Vietnamese-American war) built with dark wooden frames and moss-covered roof tops. Not only was Hoi An much more laid-back than any other Vietnamese town we had visited thus far, the town goes one step further and actually closes off portions of the town centre to motorized traffic in the evening. Compared to the usual obnoxious pandemonium of motorbikes going every which way, it was a really nice change being able to walk across the street without fearing for your life.

Hoi An is also famous (or perhaps, infamous) for it's shopping; specifically, it's tailor-made clothes. You can't turn a corner in Hoi An without coming across a tailor shop (or five) that will make you made-to-measure clothes -- from one of their samples or from any of a number of catalogues they have on hand -- for next to nothing and in less than 48 hours.

I've always wanted to get a suit made, so after much research we went to a store named Yaly. Although slightly more expensive than the competition, it seemed to have a solid reputation. After explaining what I wanted, choosing materials (with some help from Luna, our shop assistant), and getting measurements done, I ordered a three-piece suit (jacket, pants, and vest), one shirt, and a pair of shoes. (I should mention that the shoemaker took my foot 'measurements' by drawing an outline of my foot on a piece of paper!) With no deposit required, they promised everything would be ready the following day.

Ulrik getting a little helping hand at one of
Hoi An's culinary establishments
True to their word, when we returned the following day everything was ready for the first fitting. A few minor adjustments were needed, but when I returned that evening (less than a day-and-a-half after placing my order) the suit, shirt, and shoes fit perfectly. I was now a nice outfit richer, and only US$237 poorer (the suit was US$130, the vest US$50, the shirt US$12, and shoes US$45). Not too bad. But I have to be careful; I've lost a fair bit of weight while on the road, and since the suit (especially the trousers) are a perfect fit, I can't afford to put any of it back on!

While Lee had originally decided not to buy anything (she is so not a shopper -- most women would arrive in Hoi An and -- with all the made-to-measure clothes and shoes(!) -- go crazy), she couldn't help herself when she saw how "smoking hot" I was in my new suit (her words, not mine) that she ended up ordering one for herself as well. She ordered a jacket, pants, and skirt, and was just as pleased with her new outfit as I was with mine. (And, I have to say, she looked pretty "smoking hot" too.)

Lee in her snazzy new suit
(ignore the terrible borrowed shoes)
Unfortunately, after whiling away many a morning on the Mekong riverfront enjoying pots of Vietnamese tea and warm chocolate croissants (only C$0.30 a piece!), our idyll had to end eventually. With emptier pockets (but, fortunately, not heavier packs -- we shipped everything home from Hoi An's incredibly efficient post office), we finally got ourselves on a bus north to the town of Hué and the DMZ (demilitarized zone).

For more photos, see our Vietnam photo album.

Biking the Ho Chi Minh Trail

A few of the many children that came running
to say hello as we biked by
Before we came to Vietnam we seriously considered doing a bike tour, but all the tours we found online were either incredibly expensive or didn't coincide with our dates. By the time we finally arrived in Vietnam, the idea had gotten pushed to the back of our minds. So it was by complete chance that we found Groovy Gecko Tours, and are we ever glad we did! They do a five-day bike tour from Dalat to Hoi An that follows the Ho Chi Minh Trail through the Central Highlands. It not only fit within our budget (US$65 per person per day, all-inclusive), but it also fit with the way we like to travel -- we stayed in local guesthouses and ate the local food. And, because they needed only two people to run the tour, our group was nice and small -- just me, Ulrik, Thang (our guide), and Phuoc (the driver of the support van).

Day 1 (June 20) - Dalat to Lak Lake
total time on bike: 5:35
total distance covered: 112km
The first 15km was a fantastic adrenaline-rush of a downhill; the only muscles I used were those in my right forearm for holding the brake -- it was such a steep ride! Unfortunately, it came to an end all too soon. The rest of the day consisted of a lot of ups and downs, with two more big downs to enjoy. We stopped a couple of times; once to see a silk factory and once to explore a local waterfall.

Day 2 (June 21) - Lak Lake to Buon Ma Thuot
total time on bike: 4:30
total distance covered: 68km
A short day; we spent quite a bit of time off the bikes. We visited a local village, enjoyed the view from the King's former hunting lodge (now a hotel and restaurant), saw a local brick factory, and checked out two more waterfalls. Today's ride didn't have any major hills which, unfortunately, meant we also didn't have any fun downhills either. The highlight for me today was lunch! We had fantastic wrap-yourself fresh spring rolls; they were absolutely delish!

Day 3 (June 22) - Buon Ma Thuot to Kon Tum
total time on bike: 6:00
total distance covered: 107km
Loooong day today; we had a lot of distance to cover and we had no major downhills to eat up the kilometres. Today I learned what I was made of. We agreed at lunch to push on to 4:00pm, and if we did, we should make our distance for the day. By 3:30pm, however, with more than five hours on the bike and more than 95km behind me, I was so done. But with only about 10km to go -- of, unfortunately, flat, flat, flat road -- there was no way I was conceding defeat. We made our distance, and I was only 10min behind schedule.

When biking, cows always have the right of way
Day 4 (June 23) - Kon Tum to Kham Duc
total time on bike: 6:15 (Lee) / 6:50 (Ulrik)
total distance covered: 99km (Lee) / 114km (Ulrik)
We had a big challenge before us today ... not only did we have a lot of ground to cover, but we also faced a 15km mountain pass that we would hit at the end of the day. It was our own fault really. Thang, our guide, gave us the option of starting closer to town and stopping before the pass or starting further from town and ending with the pass. Ego-driven fools that we are, we said we'd do the pass. I think we must have been on crazy pills!

Despite the heat and the feeling that we were going up a lot more than down, we managed to cover 50km before lunch. Thang told us that we had another 20km to go before we hit the mountain pass. Fortunately the weather had cooled down (it was actually a bit drizzly); unfortunately Thang lied! The pass wasn't 15km, it was actually 20km! And it didn't start in 20km, it started straightaway! (Good thing for him I couldn't catch him ...)

It was tough. All I can say is thank God for the rain. Most of the climb was a 10% incline (per the road signs) and, although there were a couple of short downhill sections, it took everything in me to get myself to the top. I came close to stopping and throwing the bike over the rail so many times. It wasn't so much my legs or my lungs ... it was my fanny! After only a half-day in the saddle I was in serious discomfort, and we were well into Day 4! And climbing just made it worse. But I managed to ignore it -- or, at least, ignore it enough -- to drag myself to the top. And it took me only 1:30.

I had assumed (because Thang had told us so) that once we got to the top we'd have a nice long ride down and then we'd be done. But after getting to the top and plying us with mangoes, Thang (the liar!) tells us that we still have another 40km to go and, by the way, there's another (albeit smaller) hill and a long flat. Wha?!?

So off we went. Took us far too long to hit our well-deserved downhill, but once we did .... Oh man, it was fantastic! Picture it ... we were surrounded by lush green mist-shrouded mountains; the rain was pelting us; mud was flying in our faces; the wind was whistling past our ears; our rain jackets were flapping; and we were just flying down this winding mountain pass. It was such an unbelievable rush.

Day 5 (June 24) - Kham Duc to Hoi An
total time on bike: 4:35
total distance covered: 80km
Our last day. And boy did we go out with a whimper ... literally, we were all practically whimpering, the road and heat and wind just beat us so bad. Although it was to be a short day -- only 80km -- it was by no means an easy one. The road was flat, flat, flat, with one nasty little hill, then flat, flat, and flat again. One thing I realized on this trip is that there are no truly flat roads. You either have flat-ups, where although it looks flat it does your head in because you're still pushing; or you have flat-downs, which are wonderful because you can actually coast for a bit and rest your legs. Today was mostly flat-ups. And the few flat-downs we had came with a nasty headwind that not only pushed you back so much that you felt like you were on a hill, but were also stiflingly hot. Despite the tough conditions -- even our usually chipper guide, Thang, was feeling the effect -- we managed to make our distance shortly after 2:00pm.

We had made it ... 466km in five days.

The end
left to right: Thang (our guide), Phuoc (our driver), Lee, and Ulrik
Although I was looking forward to a break from the bikes, I was really sad that it was over. It had been a very challenging five days; but it had also been a completely exhilarating five days. I pushed myself harder -- and accomplished so much more -- than I thought I was capable. And a lot of the credit goes to Thang; he's a fantastic guide. He knows just how much to push, and he knows when to back off. He gives enough information, but not too much information. We would recommend him without hesitation. We should also mention Phuoc, the driver of the support van. It's a pretty inglorious job, driving the support vehicle, but it was always incredibly reassuring knowing that he was somewhere not too far behind us. I don't know if I would have made it up the pass if he wasn't there. Having him there gave me the freedom to push myself harder and use up everything I had because I knew if I did, Phuoc would be right there to pick me up off the road.

Cycling in Vietnam was such a wonderful way to see the country and the people. You get to see a little slice of life as you pass by. And everyone was so friendly; from the children who would run to the road to wave and shout hello or to stick their hand out so you can slap it as you go by, to the old man on a motorbike who gave me the thumbs-up and the most encouraging smile as he drove by me making my way up a hill, to the gentle and shy smiles of the young women walking along the road. We will remember them all as part of this incredible experience.

For more photos, see our Biking the Ho Chi Minh Trail photo album.

ôi chao ôi!!!

Ulrik getting pounded by the water
With an unhealthy disregard for life and limbs (and a strong recommendation from our constantly-bumping-into travel buddies, Kelly and Angela), Lee and I joined Hardy Dalat for a day of canyoning and abseiling through waterfalls! We met up with Van (our guide), his young assistant, and Sam (an American guy) at 8:30am and, after a brief stop at a local bakery to pick up some 'supplies,' were on our way to the river.

A short drive later and we stopped amidst a horde of Vietnamese tourists at a local (and obviously very popular) park. Ignoring the masses Van led us from the carpark to a small trail, which we followed for about 20min until we came to a small rock wall (about eight metres). This is where we would learn to abseil. After being kitted up in our harnesses, we were ready to throw ourselves over the ledge ... in a controlled fashion, of course. Under Van's instruction we went down the wall slowly; we jumped down and jumped side-to-side; we even practiced hanging head-down, feet-up! We were already having a ton of fun, and this was just the practice wall!

After ensuring that we weren't going to kill ourselves, Van guided us to a much higher rock wall (about 20 meters) that overlooked a beautiful valley. We all abseiled down it in fine style. One more abseil, and a welcomed lunch by the river, and Van informed us -- by taking us into the river and splashing us! -- that from here on it was going to get very, very wet.

And wet we got! Swimming, walking, and floating through the river (including a chute down a small waterfall), we found our little group stopped by a large (25 metre) waterfall. This was our big 'test,' ... we not only had to abseil down it, we were also going down the centre were the water gushed the strongest. Is this guy on crazy pills? Before setting up the ropes, Van sent his assistant to the bottom to wait for us (and, I assume, help pull us to safety after we made it to the bottom). He accomplished this by getting his assistant to lie down in the middle of the waterfall and then let him go. He shot down the falls like it was a giant, all-natural waterslide. I don't know what health insurance costs in this country, but with these guys' attitude towards the prospect of getting old, I bet it's expensive.

Lee slowly and carefully making her way down
After all the ropes were in place, and his assistant safely at the bottom waiting for us, Van guided us down one by one. It was one of the coolest things I've ever done. Just standing in the middle (horizontally AND vertically) of the falls, surrounded by rushing water, was worth every penny we paid. Talk about a power shower.

Wet, but feeling pretty exhilirated, we walked a couple of hundred meters to our next stop, a 15 metre wall with a tranquil pool below. This looked a little too easy so we weren't surprised when Van, with a little gleam in his eyes, told us that we weren't abseiling this wall but instead jumping off it! My problem is not so much with heights (which don't really bother me), but more with the jumping off them bit. There's something unnatural about leaping off perfectly good terra-firma. After Van, Sam, and Lee had jumped (I should mention that Lee took a bit of encouraging and ultimately let herself fall more than actually jumped), and taking a few moments to consider what the after-life might be like, I finally took the plunge. With a second or so of free fall, I landed with a painful crotch and a bigger ego. (I don't have to tell anybody how close I was to shitting my pants.)

Our next, and last, test was a combination of abseiling, jumping, and being shot through a waterfall chute. Crazy stuff, but loads of fun.

Thoroughly soaked, tired, a bit bruised, and hungry we went back to town. It was one of the best, and most challenging, experiences of our trip. We would so do it again, and would highly recommend it. Thanks Van, and thanks Angela and Kelly for the recommendation!

One final note ... safety-conscious readers might be asking, "Where are the helmets?" Well, I can report that, in Vietnam, putting a hand on top of your head counts as the same thing.

(Oh ... and "ôi chao ôi" is Vietnamese for "Oh my God!")

For more photos, see our Canyoning in Dalat photo album.

New Feature!

Check it out! We've added links to all our photo albums in the right-hand column.

The Great Unwashed

We're so happy ...
After more than four months of eating on the cheap (I think we're even worse than the average budget backpacker; we usually share only one dish at a street stall which usually costs us less than C$1.00), we decided to indulge our inner 'fat tourist' and splash out on a 'fancy' dinner.

While we were in Phnom Penh, we'd come across a Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) expat magazine called Asialife HCMC. This particular issue featured a very comprehensive review of pizzas -- ooooh, pizzzaaaa ... -- from 11 restaurants across the city. The best pizza, according to the three taste-testers was the Opera pizza from the Park Hyatt Saigon's restaurant Opera.

From the stringy cheese (courtesy of buffalo mozzarella) to the tomatoes, Italian salami and olives, the judges were unanimous -- this was one heck of a pizza. It scored top marks in almost every category. Quentin finally completed his quest for the perfect crust, Daniela liked the freshness of the ingredients and Bien "loved it." Coming from our firm judges, this is praise indeed.
Pizza Pazza article, December 2006 issue of AsiaLife HCMC

All this could be ours for only US$12. US$12?!? That's twice what we spend in an average day!

But since we have, indeed, been spending very little on food -- not just because we're cheap, but also because we tend to really like street food -- and have been for quite some time. And, since we've been very culinarily adventurous -- sticking with the local food for the most part and not falling back on Western food -- we figured we deserved both a financial as well as a Western indulgence. And what could be more Western than pizza (or maybe McDonald's but they don't have them in Vietnam)? Now we just had to get ourselves to HCMC!

The source of our happiness
More than a week after reading the article, it was finally time to indulge our pizza-tooth. Off we went in search of our 'holy grail' .... Unfortunately, being so preoccupied with the thoughts of ooey, gooey, cheesey, crispy-but-chewy pizza, and because it had been so long since we've sat down in a proper restaurant (if seating is an option, and it usually isn't, it's usually a plastic chair pulled up to a metal folding table in the centre of a sidewalk next to the belching buses, cars, and motorbikes; a 'dress-code' is a foreign concept) we neglected to give any thought as to how we were dressed. And we were dressed even more 'budget-backpacker' than normal. Because we had opted for the cheap-but-slow option at the laundry (only C$0.17 per kilo vs C$0.34!), the clothes we were wearing had seen better days ... like three days previously when we handed in all our laundry and first started wearing them! While three days of constant wear in a colder climate might not be too bad -- okay, even in a colder climate three days is pretty bad -- in a hot and polluted environment like HCMC you feel less than fresh a few minutes after leaving the relatively clean sanctuary of your guesthouse. We were literally the "great unwashed"! (Well, we had bathed at least; our standards are low, yes, but we do have them.) In addition to their questionable state of cleanliness, the items we were wearing were more suited to a gym (I was wearing my Lululemon sports top) or the beach (Ulrik was wearing boards shorts and a rash shirt -- don't forget, everything else we had was being washed) than dinner at a posh hotel.

But, not only did the staff of the very swank Park Hyatt Saigon not physically prevent us from sullying their immaculate and pristine environs with our presence, they actually held open the door and welcomed us in.

And fortunately, since we were eating early the restaurant had only a few patrons who, although not as casually attired as us, were by no means dressed to the nines. So we didn't stick out like sore smelly thumbs! (Besides, we joked that they probably just assumed we were old money ... you know, people who have been rich for so long that they don't care what other people think.)

We sat down to a table dressed with a starched white tablecloth, cloth napkins, and silver cutlery, and started to relax. The restaurant was so calm; we couldn't hear the traffic, we couldn't smell the exhaust fumes, and we weren't interrupted by street sellers. It was wonderful!

Deciding to splurge even more than planned, we opted for appetizers in addition to the pizza. Ulrik had a wonderful frisée salad with walnuts, Gorgonzola cheese, and apples; I had a fantastic tuna carpaccio with freshly shaved Parmesan and lemon. And the pizza? We ended up getting a "pizza-for-two", which was US$4.00 more, topped by Italian salami, mushrooms, and Gorgonzola cheese.

The entire meal -- which I should say cost a grand total of US$38 -- was worth every penny.

For more photos, see our Vietnam photo album.

To Market, To Market ...

Floating 'Starbucks'
I have always regretted not seeing the floating markets in Bangkok when I was in Thailand in 2000-2001. Although I was determined to go this time around, everyone we met said they were over-touristed and to wait and visit the markets in the Mekong Delta as they are a much more authentic experience -- the markets function for the locals, not the tourist masses. So that is what we did.

After arriving in Can Tho, we quickly arranged a boat tour of the two largest markets in the area -- the Cai Rang floating market and the Phong Dien floating market. Our tour would also take in a rice vermicelli 'factory' and a tour of one of the local villages. All told, it would take eight hours and cost US$12 each.

We met our boat captain, who greeted us with a big grin and a bag of bananas and bread (our breakfast), bright and early at 5:00am! After getting on board his boat -- a traditional wooden fishing boat with stand-up oars (fortunately it also had an engine) -- we were on our way.

It was so peaceful floating along; the sun was just rising and the only sound was the quiet hum of the boat's small engine. Upon arriving at the first floating market (Cai Rang), we were greeted by the 'Starbucks' boat. Ten thousand dong (~C$0.66) later and we were each enjoying a cup of the local java (liberally spiked with sweetened condensed milk, of course).

A pineapple seller at the floating market
The market is quite an experience. It's very busy, with boats jostling for space. Most were like the boat we were on, only instead of carrying two 'fat' tourists, they were loaded to the brim with the local produce. Each boat 'advertised' its wares by tying a sample to a flagpole of sorts, so from a distance you can easily see who has the pineapples or turnips or beets or Asian greens. Once you decide what you want, you pull your boat alongside, inspect the goods, make your selection, have it weighed on a small scale, haggle over the price, come to a deal, exchange money for goods, and move on to the next item on your grocery list. It's a shame we don't have markets like this in Canada -- grocery shopping would be so much more fun!

Our next stop was a tour of a rice noodle 'factory' and the surrounding local village. It was really interesting seeing how they transform rice grains into rice noodles. The rice is first ground into a thin watery batter (similar to the batter for crepes); it's then steam-cooked over a drum-like instrument. After cooking for a few minutes it is removed to a cooling rack and the racks are laid in the sun to dry. Once the rice 'crepes' are dry, they are put through a cutting machine. Voila! Rice noodles.

A large portion of the tour was just meandering through the many small waterways that cut through the area. This was a really nice way to see the local village life in a way that's unobtrusive.

Halfway along one quiet canal, our boat captain turned off the engine. We didn't think anything of it -- he periodically cut the engine to clear debris the small propeller got entangled with -- but then we noticed that his little propeller hadn't picked up anything; on the contrary, it had lost something ... as in one of its two blades! The boat captain didn't seem at all concerned -- we quickly relaxed as well -- and, with a smile still on his face, immediately started rooting around in his tool box. He pulled out a spare propeller, a wrench, and a small hatchet, and quickly set to work. Bracing the broken prop with the wrench, he whacked the remaining blade with the hatchet. Unfortunately, rather than loosening the prop for removal, the first whack resulted in the other blade flying off. He stopped smiling after that and started looking very serious; now he didn't have anything to leverage against to remove the prop. We, on the other hand, weren't at all worried. We were in a small canal quite far from where we started, yes, but we could hear there was a road running alongside the canal, and the water, although dirty looking, was slow moving and was not very deep. After trying a few different things -- with Ulrik trying to help -- he paddled us to a nearby landing where another man jumped aboard with his hatchet. (While in Canada, if something is broken you hit it or whack it; in Vietnam you take a hatchet to it!). Together, along with their hatchets, they were able to remove the broken prop and replace it with the spare. We were back on our way!

We visited a second smaller floating market (Phong Dien) and floated through more quiet canals, with our boat captain feeding us watermelon along the way, before arriving back at our starting point. Although a bit long, it had been an enjoyable tour. Our boat captain was the highlight though. Although he didn't speak much, he was so friendly and genuine.

For more photos, see our Floating Markets photo album.

Up the mountain, down the mountain ...

Enjoying the view
After crossing the Cambodia/Vietnam border, we arrived in a small town called Chau Doc. As we were already 10 days into our 30-day visa (long story) we had only one morning available to us to explore the city; we decided to use it to walk to the top of the nearby Sam Mountain.

The 237-metre-tall Sam Mountain is located six kilometres from the city centre, and is considered an important site to the local population. It has a paved road that goes right to the summit but we, of course, wanted an extra challenge and instead walked up to the summit using a small foot path. To stretch our legs even more, and to save a few bucks, we also decided to forgo motorized transport and walked the six kilometres to and from the mountain's base. Yes ... we are that cheap!

This meant that we had to get a very early start so we would be back in town for our afternoon bus to Can Tho, our next destination. Hence, breakfast was had on the street (a tasty rice noodle soup) at 6:00am. The walk to the mountain wasn't the most exciting, but it was good to stretch our legs after being stuck on a bus and boat for more than eight hours the previous day (to cross the Cambodia/Vietnam border), and a lot of people smiled, waved, and shouted hellos to us along the way.

The walk to the mountain's base took about an hour, and arriving was like walking into a fair ground. There were people milling about everywhere, and stalls selling anything you might think you needed (and a few that you didn't!). Cutting a quick path through the crowds, we located a small trail that meandered through a temple and a grave yard. The path turned out to be very well maintained with concrete steps most of the way to the top. But if we thought we were taking the 'path less travelled,' we were completely wrong. Although there weren't a lot of people (I think because of the time of day), the path was lined with numerous restaurants selling cold drinks, facecloths, and even offering hammocks, for all those weary travelers passing by!

When, after climbing for about 45min, we finally reached the top, we were rewarded with fantastic views of both Vietnam and Cambodia. We were also greeted by the throngs of other 'climbers' who had opted for the aircon buses. Bastards!

Ulrik the superstar!
After about 5min of enjoying the spectacular views and catching our breaths, we were approached by a small group of young ladies who asked if they could get their photo taken with us. Of course we were happy to help, but before we realized it a whole line had formed of people who also wanted a holiday picture with the tall, blond foreigner! Lee was a bit sidelined, and she later said that she now knew what it must feel like to be nobody wife of a celebrity. I think someone was perhaps a little jealous ...?

Realizing there was a serious possibility of getting stuck for a long time (the professional holiday photographers -- always with an eye for a profit-making opportunity -- were actively working the crowd to get more photos), we did a few more and then, during a lull, turned tail and headed back down the mountain.

What goes up ...
The going down proved far easier then going up, although the number of people walking against us had increased. Some were even carrying heavy loads of food, drinks, blocks of ice, and tired children. At least with our small daypack we couldn't complain too much. Straight down the mountain we went, and headed directly back to town. After arriving back at our guesthouse, a sweaty hour-and-a-half later, we rewarded ourselves with a big bottle of ice-cold water and a lunch of fried rice, then settled in to wait for our bus to Can Tho.

For more photos, see our Vietnam photo album.

Mr Ulrik

Ulrik and 'his' English class
After only a day at the school, I was asked to teach a small class of four intermediate English students. Later in the week, another teacher (Mr Sal) had to stay home due to pain in the neck (literally ... it wasn't the students being a pain in the neck), and with typical Cambodian organization, the caretaker(!), Mr Ny, asked me five minutes before class if I could possibly step in. Sure ... no problem. Lee came with me for support, but having 30 students -- all very much at the beginner level -- stare at me in eager anticipation, is surely one of the most scary things I have ever done. It’s right up there with dancing for a boatload of Indonesians ...

Considering the circumstance, the lesson went as well as it could. With absolutely no Khmer, it certainly wasn’t easy. I did manage to lead them in practicing some question words (what, where, when, etc.), which they had learned the day before. All credit, however, goes to the students for not giving up on my floundering ‘teaching’, and staying for the duration.

For more photos, see our Alysha Chan School photo album.

Getting to Know Cambodia

Lee and the giggly girls from Mr Sal's evening English class
clockwise from left: Chendu, Piseh, Lee, Maly, Chanthan, Paula, and Ratchna
Okay ... enough seriousness ...

After seeing the temples of Cambodia, and learning more about the sad history of Cambodia, we thought it was time to get to know the Cambodia of today. Well, that is, the Cambodia of today that doesn't include crazy motorcycle/scooter drivers!

Although most visitors to Cambodia just hit the temples and then head for Ho Chi Minh City in Vietnam or Bangkok in Thailand (depending on which direction they're travelling), we really wanted to see a bit more of Cambodia.

Part of this was because I really wasn't sure if I liked Cambodia. Certainly the temples were mysterious and beautiful. And yes, I felt incredibly sad for the Cambodian people because of their recent tragic history. But, to be brutally honest, I really wasn't sure if I liked the Cambodian people. The people we had been in contact with were pushy, aggressive, and just not very friendly -- most treated us as though we were walking wallets! To be fair, though, we were firmly on the tourist track so the people we were interacting with were those used to dealing with tourists in big shiny air-con buses that flit in, throw their dollars around and take photos of the poor begging locals, and flit out again. (Yes, I know I am stereotyping horrendously, but you know what I mean.)

I knew if we left without seeing more of Cambodia (i.e. get off the tourist track), we would be leaving with an incomplete picture.

Since we were interested in doing some volunteer work, we thought this might be a great way to not only offer a bit of help, but also meet Cambodians not associated with the tourist trade (i.e. the vast majority!). We saw a couple of postings for volunteers in the area where we were staying in Phnom Penh, and did a bit of research online. We found an organization that runs an English school in a small village just 50km south of Phnom Penh. The village of Tropaeng Sdock consists of only 100 families; it is home to the Alysha Chan School which is run by a German/Cambodian relief organization called Sorya.

The primary role of volunteers is a simple one; speak with the students so they can practice their English. We were also called on to assist the teachers (who are English students as well) and on several occasions we actually lead the class!

Ulrik taught several advanced English classes; I lead one class and then assisted with the teaching of another. The students ranged in age from 10 years to the early twenties, and the majority of students were attending the local primary or high school full-time. The one hour or one-and-one-half hour English classes were held during the lunch 'break' and in the evening. It was a very long day for many of them!

The children and staff were so friendly. Both the students and the staff seemed to enjoy speaking with us and asking us questions. The students would often whisper amongst themselves before someone was finally brave enough (usually with a lot of prodding from their friends) to ask a question out loud. And no matter what the question, the answer always seemed to elicit a round of giggles.

Several girls in the evening class I worked with (see photo above) were determined to teach me some Khmer. When they found out on Friday that I was leaving the next day, they completely ignored my attempts to get them to pay attention to the teacher and tried to jam as much as possible into my 'lesson'. I have to admit that I liked them so much that my attempts were a bit half-hearted.

After only a week at the school, though, it was time to leave. Although we really enjoyed our time there, and I am quite certain the school would have been happy to have us stay, the situation wasn't the best fit for us. There was a lot of downtime between classes and not much to do to fill it, and both Ulrik and I felt we weren't well-equipped for actually teaching English which was something we had both been called on to do. If we do something like this again, and I really think we will, we'd like to get some formal training in order to be able to do it properly.

But we are so happy for having had this experience. We met some really lovely people: Mr Ny and his wife (the caretaker and the cook); Mr Sal, Mr Sras, Miss Nyet, and Miss Kung Kea (teachers); Mr Theon (the school administrator); and Jakob (a volunteer from Germany). And, of course, all the students. They were so open and welcoming; they seemed to be so happy to have us there that even though we didn't feel like we were able to do much, they made us feel like we were doing a lot.

For more photos, see our Alysha Chan School photo album.

Quick Note

Just a quick note to say that Ulrik and I are heading out into rural Cambodia. We are interested in doing some volunteer work and have a lead on a school in a village about 50km from Phnom Penh. We're heading there today and, if all works out, will stay for a couple of weeks. Since it's a small village it's unlikely they will have any internet access, so no emailing/blogging for awhile ...

Tuol Sleng & Choeung Ek

Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum
The temples of Angkor are, some might say, a less important part of Cambodia's history. Certainly they are beautiful and awe-inspiring. They are, of course, very photogenic ... their images grace the postcards that are sold (12 for only US$1) at their feet and tourists clamour on, over, and in front of them for their own photos. But I think if you are going to see only one thing, or perhaps two things, while in Cambodia, they should be the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum/Security Prison 21 (S-21) and the Killing Fields of Choeung Ek.

Memorial Stupa at Choeung Ek
Both sites are difficult to visit. The obvious reason is, of course, because of what took place there. But another reason is the atmosphere of both settings. Tuol Sleng has such a banality to it. The building was a high school and, other than the barbed wire, it still looks like a high school from the outside. Choeung Ek was an orchard on the outskirts of Phnom Penh; it retains that natural peacefulness, which was only reinforced by the beautiful sunny day on which we visited.

But then you get closer; you look closer. You see the open pits at Choeung Ek; you see the bars on the windows at Tuol Sleng. And you know that as disturbing as these images are, they are only that. Images. They cannot even begin to convey what it must have really been like ... to be imprisoned at Tuol Sleng, to arrive on a truck at Choeung Ek.

If you come to Cambodia, don't see just the temples. See Cambodia.

For more photos, see our Tuol Sleng & Choeung Ek photo album (please note, some of these photos are quite disturbing).

Temples of Angkor

A bas-relief at Angkor Wat
Another hot, sweaty, dusty, and bone-grinding ride -- but this time on a bus -- and we were in Siam Reap (which in Khmer means 'Thailand's Defeat' ... who said these guys didn't have a sense of humour?). We arrived after dark (of course!) around 9:30pm in front of a guesthouse 'recommended' by the guys from the bus company (of course!). Not wanting to give them any more of our money after they'd overcharged us for a rundown bus (the only AC was of the natural sort), we grabbed our bags (we literally had to grab them because they weren't going to give them to us) and headed to a guest house of our own choosing, Jasmine Lodge. Jasmine's turned out to be quite nice so we dropped our bags, had a bite to eat, showered, and turned in for the night.

While Siam Reap's, and to some extent Cambodia's, claim to fame are the nearby temples of Angkor (namely Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom, Bayon, etc., etc., etc.), we decided to take a rest day after all the fun we'd had on the road from Bangkok. (I've never had to bribe a border guard before, so I consider it 100B/C$3 well-spent.)

Our first order of business was to check out the Cambodian medical scene. I had a small infection under one of my nails and I ended up spending a good part of the morning at a doctor's office getting a serious manicure. It set us back US$90 which Lee wasn't too pleased about, though it did cheer her up a bit when I told her how painful it had been to be under the knife (or in this case, the nail clippers). It's much better now, and seems to be healing well.

After getting my boo-boo fixed, we went to a 'small' exhibition by a local master sculptor. It featured miniature scale models of the main temples in the area, specifically Angkor Wat, Beng Mealea, and Bayon. The level of detail was truly amazing.

Ulrik towering over Angkor Wat
The following day we met up with Angela and Kelly, two Canadian girls we met while crossing the border, and biked around the temples (about 38km in total). The temples were built by a number of Khmer rulers in the period between 875AD and 1230AD, and although are no longer actively used for organized worship, many of them are in remarkable shape. The most famous is Angkor Wat, and from its size and splendor one can see why. It's possible to walk through most of it, taking in the stately towers, steep staircases, narrow corridors, and now-dry pools. Although it is truly spectacular in person, Lee and I agreed that it's much easier to get a sense of the granduer while looking at the miniature replica. The real thing is just too big to take in.

With four rental bikes, all at least a hundred years old, something was bound to give. And sure enough, the rear axle on Lee's bicycle broke down. And, of course, it happened during the hottest part of the day (around 12:30pm) and on the far side of the ruin complex, leaving us with the prospect of having to walk the remaining 19km under the intense midday sun. After walking for more than an hour (the girls were nice enough not to ditch us) with periodic breaks to look at temples, the sky started to darken; the afternoon rains were coming. Luckily, two young boys, Bor and Sat, came to our aid and took us to their uncle's bicycle repair 'store' (it was essentially a box of tools and parts by the side of the road) in a nearby village. As the uncle didn't give us an estimate of the cost before starting, and us being the cynical foreigners we are, we were a bit concerned that we might be in for a nasty surprise when the time came to pay up. But we needn't have worried. The bill for time, labour, and materials came to one measly dollar! After our experiences at the border and around the temples, it was good to be reminded that not all Cambodians are just out to get our money. For their help we gave the boys a ride back to the main road -- they sat on our bike racks (sure would have loved a picture of that!) -- and bought some postcards from them. With two sets of working wheels (the girls had moved ahead by this point), we hit one more temple before heading back for a hearty dinner.

Lee feeling even littler than normal
The following day, having not quite reached our temple limit, the four of us hired a driver and remorque-moto, a kind of four-person carriage pulled by a scooter, to take us 70km to the temple of Beng Mealea. Beng Mealea has been almost completely overtaken by the jungle and is in a serious state of disrepair. There are piles of sandstone blocks everywhere, and many of the walls that haven't fallen down yet look like they will soon. It's enough to make any Indiana Jones/Lara Croft wannabe go crazy. After several hours of exploring and climbing around, we started the ride home. In true Southeast Asian style, the moto of course broke down at the half-way mark -- are they built to do this? -- and we spent about 45 minutes at the side of the road watching the traffic go by (including a bike covered with chickens!).

Notice their heads ... those chickens are alive!
Just when we thought we would be walking home, the engine roared to life and we were back on the road.

For more photos, see our Cambodia photo album.