Chang-Mai is the second biggest city in Thailand after Bangkok, and as such is the largest city in the north of Thailand. We had a few days to soak up the atmosphere and to get a feel for the differences between the north and the rest of the country. Sadly, the city seemed as though it had lost any sense of self.
It's remaining features of interest include the moat and tumbling wall which surrounded the old part of the town but other than that, it felt like little more than a jettison point for backpackers heading off in various directions. The old town is mostly a maze of little alleys, full of guesthouses and bars, while the new town has wider roads and bigger hotels, but the same sense of tourist town permeates both halves. We didn't really find any solid sense of what Chang-Mai was or had been. It did have quite a number of working Wats (temples), but having spent the last week at Angkor Wat, we felt a little templed out, and on top of that, we always feel a slight sense of intrusion when we step into the monk's realms, not least because you're not really supposed to wear shorts or t-shirts, and it's just too hot to wear anything more.
We walked around aplenty, and shifted accommodation every night as we struggled against paper thin walls, and neighbouring night clubs. We had a good enough time just meandering and taking care of e-business, including arranging our flights into Laos and catching up on the blog - this literary epic doesn't come without effort you realise - but we didn't actually do anything worth reporting. A couple of bad meals later, and a couple of good ones, and we headed to the airport for our flight into Laos.
We had weighed up whether to fly or not. Our options were plane or boat. Boat meant a 6 hour bus trip to the border and an over night stay, then a two day boat trip on a slow boat down the Mekong. At first this sounded like a romantic and authentic way to make the journey but further research would reveal that the boat has little in the way of comfort. We would have been sitting on our bags, or if lucky a wooden bench, and have been crammed in with a couple dozen other backpackers and probably a load of chickens. There was no food available, so it would be two days of crisps, and the toilet was to be found by hanging you rear end over the boat while your poo-buddy held your hands. There was a fast boat we considered too. That made the trip in one full day, but apparently was so cramped that you simply can't move at all while being deafened and battered as it raced up the river. The fast boat was widely reported as dangerous too with not an insignificant number finding the bottom of the river.
Given this list of horrors, air travel would seem like the easy choice but consider that we would be flying Air Laos, with a fleet of planes without radar who fly continuously through cloudy mountainous terrain with a terrifying track record. We decided that the International Red Cross were probably wise in their policy of not allowing it's staff to fly with Air Laos, but it seemed at least the most comfortable way to die trying to get into the country. We bid our farewells to the world and buckled up. The flight was really quite good, the food was utterly dreadful (stale crab sticks in a croissant), but the free beer went some way to calm the nerves.
Flying over Laos was really quite amazing. The country is one big mass of mountains, there's hardly a flat spot to be found. There's no towns or villages to be seen either, just a little hut on each hill side, minding it's own little spot of farmland. Every inch, is a deep lush green of rice terraces or virgin forest lying thick over all the peaks and troughs. As far as the eye could see was hill after mountain, with pockets of white cloud clinging to the peaks. We were starting our descent and the highest hills were about as far below us as the runway tends to be about 30 seconds before landing. I wondered how high Luang Prabang's airport sat and if we were nearing it or still had a bit to go. Flashes of cloud started to race past the windows and you could catch glimpses of the approaching slopes between the breaks. Then we entered completely white cloud and remained in that for about a minute. Judging by our rate of descent and what we had seen out the windows, it was easy to guess we were now flying somewhere lower than the highest hills, and remember there were lots of hills, but unless all the gaps in the cloud lay directly in front of the cockpit, we had to be relying on the pilot's local knowledge to know there was nothing in the way - no radar remember. Sure enough, we popped out the bottom of the cloud to reveal we were approaching Luang Prabang, flying along a valley, with the ground a further minute or so below us but the sides already higher than us on both sides. It's quite odd, looking out both sides and seeing the ground, and still going down for a further minute. A smooth landing and we were in the terminal queuing to get our visas.
THE LAOS IMMIGRATION INCIDENT
There wasn't one. We queued, we paid, we got a receipt that said we had payed less than we had. The immigration man was a couple of dollars up, we were just glad to have survived the trip. We got a big stamp, we left.
Sunday, 8 July 2007
Friday, 29 June 2007
Angkor Wat
Our next stop was Seam Riep, the nearest town to the temples at Angkor. These temples are 1000 year old remnants of the Angkorian Empire, which at it's height spanned parts of Thailand, Cambodia and Laos. Angkor was the heart of the Empire and every king in charge took it upon themselves to outdo their predecessors with big palaces and temples to their gods. The area became absolutely littered with these ancient buildings, some of them mind bogglingly massive but then it was all forgotten about until some French bloke on an elephant stumbled across one of them, and was then let into the secret by the local tribes. This discovery happened around a century ago, and since then UNESCO and other world heritage organisations have been slowly doing them up and making them safe for the hordes of tourists to trample over.
We bought a three day ticket and saw about a dozen temples, ranging in size from that of a small town to a couple of small towers. We hired a Tuc-Tuc which stayed with us for the three days and plied the roads that linked the temples together - our own personal chauffeur, and a bargain at $10 per day. Having said that, our driver was hopeless and we were constantly struggling to make him understand where we wanted to go next, often giving up in despair as he'd turn the Tuc-Tuc and head in the totally wrong direction. This meant that we saw a few extra temples that we hadn't planned though so it was all good.
The temples are quite breathtaking, the largest - Angkor Wat is surrounded by a huge moat, and includes several swimming pools inside it. Other temples have Giant faces on each of the four sides of all their towers. A few of the temples had been so lost to the jungle that today there are massive centuries' old trees growing through them, weaving over and under and sitting atop the structures. These trees, which are so ancient themselves really give perspective to the age of the buildings they found root in as seeds. The whole reason we came to Cambodia at all was because of a picture we had seen of this in the Cameron Highlands. We did not leave disappointed.
Our weather showed the first signs of the approaching wet season while we were at Angkor. Although still stiflingly hot, there were a few showers. They were heavy but only lasted an hour or so. By the end of our few days the sky had settled into an even grey blanket, which brought a little relief from the heat. On one evening as we sat in a restaurant waiting for dinner (Cambodian table service is the slowest we have ever seen - 10 minutes after ordering, your drink will come, and a further 15 minutes later the first meal that's ready will arrive at the table, a replacement drink then taking a further 10 minutes to arrive) a lightning storm arrived above the tourist town and dropped a deluge upon the street, sending diners running from their street-side tables. In only 10 minutes, we watched the water level rise from zero to above the height of the kerbs, and wondered if would would come further still into the restaurants. It didn't, and an hour and a half later we could walk home without too much peril.
We spent a further day in Seam Riep to arrange our onward travel and see a little bit more of the town itself. That done, we headed to the Thai border the next day, a three hour car journey north on a dirt road, and re-entered Thailand where a bus to Bangkok and then straight onto a sleeper train would deliver us north to Chang Mai, the second largest city in Thailand.
Thursday, 28 June 2007
Phnom Phen
Our bus journey to Phnom Phen was not without incident. The bus stopped at a couple of stops for people to relieve themselves and pick up some locally prepared food, as is normal. Less normal for us though, were the woks of fried bugs, served by the bag load, and the girl selling fruit, with a tarantula hanging off her T-shirt which she would thrust in your face if your were caught looking at it. When we did arrive in the Capital we were immediately descended upon by an army of Tuc-Tuc drivers all eager to take us to hotels. It's important to look like you know what you're doing in these situations because any flicker of uncertainty - and they'll ask you questions to expose that flicker - will result in them telling you what 'you need to do' or 'where you need to go' rather than let you find out for yourself. Their intention being to introduce you to the hotel that gives them a commission, and is often more than a walk from town, so you need a Tuc-Tuc. It can be very pressured, but always friendly, and if you can convince them that your mind is not for persuading they always treat you on the level and will take you where you want to go, the problem with even this though, is that on day one you'll probably pay five times the going rate, as such our technique was to don our bags and walk in a fixed direction - the Surabaya technique.
The afternoon heat was starting to wear us down, but after a handful of hotels we settled on The Asia. It wasn't great but we thought it would do for a night - we could make a more thorough venture for hotels later without our bags. We later discovered a laminated menu in the room, which offered breakfast through to prostitutes and we were woken in the middle of the night by what sounded like a body landing on the roof below us, though a look out the window with the torch revealed nothing, and if someone had jumped, they weren't making any more noise about it.
A quick departure in the morning, delayed only by the management being really officious and difficult because the room we stayed in didn't match the booking (as if that was our problem) and we got a Tuc-Tuc to take us to our next pre-arranged hotel. The driver said he was quite used to taking tourists to new hotels from that one, the management are not held in high regard.
Our new hotel was much nicer. There was no laminated menu, and no prostitutes and we were quite happy there until we blocked the toilet. We were rather embarrassed about this, because in Cambodia toilets can't deal with loo-roll, so you're supposed to put that in a wee bin beside you - something we have never got used to. Admitting we had blocked the loo would have admitted ignoring the big notices everywhere, with the uncertain consequence possibly of a fine. Two coat-hangers and a night later and we fessed up, resulting in our biggest tip yet going to the man with a plunger.
We visited the National Museum, unwittingly going backwards through it (starting with the most recent stuff) and remarked that they were very proud of achievements made at a time our ancestors were grappling with electricity. Then we found all the old stuff, which had been removed from their ancient temples at Angkor Wat and around. We went to another museum too, from a far more recent page in the Cambodian history books, the Genocide Museum.
In the 1970's, the Khmer Rouge, a growing communist party overthrew the government and took control of the country, under the leadership of Pol Pot. It's agenda was to turn Cambodians into 'new people' - isolated from the outside world. Their lunatic agenda closed all international links, and forcibly removed the urban population into agricultural labour in the countryside. Since everyone who had been relocated had no farming skills, they inevitably failed and famine spread across the country. Anyone caught picking wild berries to avoid starvation would be killed for engaging in 'independent endeavour'. All schools and institutions were closed. Religion, private property, even money was banned. The leadership became increasingly paranoid, executing anyone it suspected of being their enemy. This included intellectuals and professionals. One of the tests for intelligence was eyesight, because obviously, as everyone knows if you wear glasses you're brainy, so specs meant death. Also, anyone who was known to have had an education was not far from meeting their maker. Practitioners of religion, including monks were considered enemies. The odd westerner caught up in it all, enemy. The neighbour or family member (including babies) of a suspected enemy - also enemy. In the end, Pol Pot even considered his own family enemies and had them all executed.
These supposed enemies were taken to a former high school in the emptied capital and tortured to reveal their alleged secrets and plots. After weeks of torture, and ridiculous accusation, these people would then be taken to the countryside - the area now known as The Killing Fields - near the city and executed, mostly by a club to the head. When the Vietnamese finally succeeded in liberating the country from the clutches of the Khmer Rouge, the administrators of the prison (who were mostly teenage boys) executed the remaining victims and fled, leaving cupboards full of documents and photo's testifying to the atrocities committed. The school/prison, called S21, has been preserved, just as it was found and now serves as a memorial to the atrocities.
The equipment that was used to torture the victims, and the iron rods their legs were ceaselessly fastened to were grim enough but what was all the more vivid was the walls of photographs, taken of the people when they were first brought to the centre. These black and white faces ranged from defiance to terror, and depicted men, women and young children. In some of the photos of women, you could see a baby in their arms, which was certainly also considered an enemy of the state. Even the seat they sat in for the photos was a horrific contraption with a big spike against which they had to rest their head.
Since our visit to S21, it has left the thought in our minds that many of the people around us would have been victims of the atrocities committed not so long ago.
The afternoon heat was starting to wear us down, but after a handful of hotels we settled on The Asia. It wasn't great but we thought it would do for a night - we could make a more thorough venture for hotels later without our bags. We later discovered a laminated menu in the room, which offered breakfast through to prostitutes and we were woken in the middle of the night by what sounded like a body landing on the roof below us, though a look out the window with the torch revealed nothing, and if someone had jumped, they weren't making any more noise about it.
A quick departure in the morning, delayed only by the management being really officious and difficult because the room we stayed in didn't match the booking (as if that was our problem) and we got a Tuc-Tuc to take us to our next pre-arranged hotel. The driver said he was quite used to taking tourists to new hotels from that one, the management are not held in high regard.
Our new hotel was much nicer. There was no laminated menu, and no prostitutes and we were quite happy there until we blocked the toilet. We were rather embarrassed about this, because in Cambodia toilets can't deal with loo-roll, so you're supposed to put that in a wee bin beside you - something we have never got used to. Admitting we had blocked the loo would have admitted ignoring the big notices everywhere, with the uncertain consequence possibly of a fine. Two coat-hangers and a night later and we fessed up, resulting in our biggest tip yet going to the man with a plunger.
We visited the National Museum, unwittingly going backwards through it (starting with the most recent stuff) and remarked that they were very proud of achievements made at a time our ancestors were grappling with electricity. Then we found all the old stuff, which had been removed from their ancient temples at Angkor Wat and around. We went to another museum too, from a far more recent page in the Cambodian history books, the Genocide Museum.
In the 1970's, the Khmer Rouge, a growing communist party overthrew the government and took control of the country, under the leadership of Pol Pot. It's agenda was to turn Cambodians into 'new people' - isolated from the outside world. Their lunatic agenda closed all international links, and forcibly removed the urban population into agricultural labour in the countryside. Since everyone who had been relocated had no farming skills, they inevitably failed and famine spread across the country. Anyone caught picking wild berries to avoid starvation would be killed for engaging in 'independent endeavour'. All schools and institutions were closed. Religion, private property, even money was banned. The leadership became increasingly paranoid, executing anyone it suspected of being their enemy. This included intellectuals and professionals. One of the tests for intelligence was eyesight, because obviously, as everyone knows if you wear glasses you're brainy, so specs meant death. Also, anyone who was known to have had an education was not far from meeting their maker. Practitioners of religion, including monks were considered enemies. The odd westerner caught up in it all, enemy. The neighbour or family member (including babies) of a suspected enemy - also enemy. In the end, Pol Pot even considered his own family enemies and had them all executed.
These supposed enemies were taken to a former high school in the emptied capital and tortured to reveal their alleged secrets and plots. After weeks of torture, and ridiculous accusation, these people would then be taken to the countryside - the area now known as The Killing Fields - near the city and executed, mostly by a club to the head. When the Vietnamese finally succeeded in liberating the country from the clutches of the Khmer Rouge, the administrators of the prison (who were mostly teenage boys) executed the remaining victims and fled, leaving cupboards full of documents and photo's testifying to the atrocities committed. The school/prison, called S21, has been preserved, just as it was found and now serves as a memorial to the atrocities.
The equipment that was used to torture the victims, and the iron rods their legs were ceaselessly fastened to were grim enough but what was all the more vivid was the walls of photographs, taken of the people when they were first brought to the centre. These black and white faces ranged from defiance to terror, and depicted men, women and young children. In some of the photos of women, you could see a baby in their arms, which was certainly also considered an enemy of the state. Even the seat they sat in for the photos was a horrific contraption with a big spike against which they had to rest their head.
Since our visit to S21, it has left the thought in our minds that many of the people around us would have been victims of the atrocities committed not so long ago.
Monday, 25 June 2007
The funny thing about Cambodia...
There are a few things which took us by surprise as we settled in to Cambodia. Currency was one of the first things. The official currency is the Riel, but everything uses US Dollars. Even the ATMs deal in $. Riel is only used to make up the change as the smallest US denomination is a $1 note. There is 4000 Riel to a dollar, so when paying for something that costs so many dollars and so many cent, you have to quickly work out how many dollars and how many Riel you are due in change. It is quite normal for your change to be short by a few hundred Riel too, but any inquiry regarding this will be met with a shrug of the shoulders, though it is normally because they don't have enough change, rather than an agenda to rip you off.
The poverty of some of the people has also taken us aback. Since Indonesia, we have seen plenty of people who have been begging, or begging for a sale. In Cambodia though, this has taken a leap to a new height. What is especially sad to see is the number of children out, carrying a tray of trinkets, or a coat hanger draped in braclets and charms for you to buy. These kids are out well past 9 at night harrassing you relentlessly to buy something. This throws an ethical dillemma because you naturally want to give these kids something, but the aid agancies strongly discourage this as it encourages more children out to work if it proves fruitful. You feel thoroughly rotten for refusing - something you have to do quite forcifully, before they leave you alone. Any restbite, is then only minutes long too. The age of the kids ranges from about 5 upwards. Sometimes we have capitulated, as we keep shifting our opinion on the right thing to do. There are also a lot of amputees in Cambodia, due to it's landmine legacy. A typical day will see you pass probably about 30 indivduals, more in concentrated areas, who sit on the ground, usually right in the way begging for money. We are less resistant to these people, though knowing how much to give is still a difficult decision, as you then have to decide who is most deserving - you simply can't give to everyone.
Traders will also fight over your custom too, whether it's Tuc-Tuc drivers or Hawker (small semi-outdoor restaurant stall) owners. If you are not immediately certain who you want before you get to them they will both shout at you, pulling an arm each, the loser occasionally shouting abuse at you for your choice.
At first, all this was quite difficult to cope with (the children still are), but as we've got used to it, so we have found techniques for dealing with it all. Despite the new level of pressure that comes from some of the Cambodians, they are one of the friendliest and most helpful people we have met yet. Everyone is very smiley and the level of English spoken is remarkable. We hadn't expected there to be very many people who could speak the language, but it is widely understood, and generally to quite a high standard. Even the young children are quite capable of telling you all about their situation, and most can go off the prepared script with questioning too. Cambodians love their cable TV, which accounts for the level of English spoken by some of the people. Every hotel and guest house we have stayed at has had a bettter selection of movie channels and news than we have back home, most of them in English.
What has also been of surprise to us is the lack of development across the country, even in Phnom Phen. There are very few shops as you would recognise in the west - properties with glass fronts and shelves of products. Instead, most people sell a particular ware, that they might make themselves, and these sales happen either on the pavement, at a stall, or in openfronted roadside premises. We visited the country's only mall (opened 2003), with the first escalators in Cambodia but even this was more like an upmarket indoor market. There are no chains to recognise anywhere. 7eleven, which has Malaysia and Thailand tied up are no where to be seen, nor is McDonalds, though we did find a Chinese owned clone called Lucky Burger. Most petrol stations are a single oil barrell at the side of the road, with a giant optic on a stick above it and a flexi-hose. Motorbikes are the normal mode of transport here, with four adults riding on one scooter a normal sight. Toyota seems to be the car of choice with a straw survey on a walk home revealing they accounted for 62% of the market.
Aid agencies are very noticeable too, with Unicef and Red Cross and UN Land Rovers quite a familiar sight driving round. These agencies contribute to a large ex-pat community in Phnom Phen with lots of western style bars and restaurants catering to them. In Phnom Phen there certainly seemed to be more ex-pats than tourists though we managed to find plenty to do in our few days there.
The poverty of some of the people has also taken us aback. Since Indonesia, we have seen plenty of people who have been begging, or begging for a sale. In Cambodia though, this has taken a leap to a new height. What is especially sad to see is the number of children out, carrying a tray of trinkets, or a coat hanger draped in braclets and charms for you to buy. These kids are out well past 9 at night harrassing you relentlessly to buy something. This throws an ethical dillemma because you naturally want to give these kids something, but the aid agancies strongly discourage this as it encourages more children out to work if it proves fruitful. You feel thoroughly rotten for refusing - something you have to do quite forcifully, before they leave you alone. Any restbite, is then only minutes long too. The age of the kids ranges from about 5 upwards. Sometimes we have capitulated, as we keep shifting our opinion on the right thing to do. There are also a lot of amputees in Cambodia, due to it's landmine legacy. A typical day will see you pass probably about 30 indivduals, more in concentrated areas, who sit on the ground, usually right in the way begging for money. We are less resistant to these people, though knowing how much to give is still a difficult decision, as you then have to decide who is most deserving - you simply can't give to everyone.
Traders will also fight over your custom too, whether it's Tuc-Tuc drivers or Hawker (small semi-outdoor restaurant stall) owners. If you are not immediately certain who you want before you get to them they will both shout at you, pulling an arm each, the loser occasionally shouting abuse at you for your choice.
At first, all this was quite difficult to cope with (the children still are), but as we've got used to it, so we have found techniques for dealing with it all. Despite the new level of pressure that comes from some of the Cambodians, they are one of the friendliest and most helpful people we have met yet. Everyone is very smiley and the level of English spoken is remarkable. We hadn't expected there to be very many people who could speak the language, but it is widely understood, and generally to quite a high standard. Even the young children are quite capable of telling you all about their situation, and most can go off the prepared script with questioning too. Cambodians love their cable TV, which accounts for the level of English spoken by some of the people. Every hotel and guest house we have stayed at has had a bettter selection of movie channels and news than we have back home, most of them in English.
What has also been of surprise to us is the lack of development across the country, even in Phnom Phen. There are very few shops as you would recognise in the west - properties with glass fronts and shelves of products. Instead, most people sell a particular ware, that they might make themselves, and these sales happen either on the pavement, at a stall, or in openfronted roadside premises. We visited the country's only mall (opened 2003), with the first escalators in Cambodia but even this was more like an upmarket indoor market. There are no chains to recognise anywhere. 7eleven, which has Malaysia and Thailand tied up are no where to be seen, nor is McDonalds, though we did find a Chinese owned clone called Lucky Burger. Most petrol stations are a single oil barrell at the side of the road, with a giant optic on a stick above it and a flexi-hose. Motorbikes are the normal mode of transport here, with four adults riding on one scooter a normal sight. Toyota seems to be the car of choice with a straw survey on a walk home revealing they accounted for 62% of the market.
Aid agencies are very noticeable too, with Unicef and Red Cross and UN Land Rovers quite a familiar sight driving round. These agencies contribute to a large ex-pat community in Phnom Phen with lots of western style bars and restaurants catering to them. In Phnom Phen there certainly seemed to be more ex-pats than tourists though we managed to find plenty to do in our few days there.
Kong Island and Cow Roundabout
Having crossed the border, my nerves in Shatters and Nic just coming down from her mighty victory, we were in no mood to go scouring our stop over town for the best value place to stay. We were in Koh-Kong, which translates to Kong Island! Disappointingly, it was neither an island nor the home of a giant ape, it was in fact a simple non-touristy border town with a couple of tarmac'd roads and a scattering of guest houses. We would be getting a ferry the next morning at 9:30 and found the nearest hotel to the pier, checking in with little negotiation.
We boarded our ferry at 9.15 and at 9.45 another boat turned up full of boxes of fruit. They then proceeded to cross load the lot, a process that took an hour, and with a third of the emergency exits blocked, and an alarming list to the port side, we chugged out to sea. The state of the boat would terrify most people in the west, but as it was, this one looked probably-likely to make the journey, which is more than can be said for some of our previous marine excursions, despite the fact that the windows on our side were about 8 inches from the water level and the other side were about a good two foot. Thoughtfully, a plank of wood had been laid on top of some of the boxes allowing anyone who needed the toilet to climb up and walk the plank to the rear of the boat, stooping as they went. We didn't dare venture down to find what horrors awaited, instead we endured the noise of the TV down the front, turned to full volume, and pumping out of every speaker on the boat, as it distorted and pierced our brains for the best part of the 4 hour journey. We happily entered the beach resort of Sihanoukville in the afternoon and got a Tuc-Tuc from the port down to the beach where we found a suitable place to stay.
Although, considered Cambodia's premier beach resort, Sihanoukville, would be better considered Cambodia's best attempt at a beach resort. But don't take that as a criticism. Working from the water, and back to shore it can be succinctly described.
Water - Not as warm as Koh-Chang, but perfectly swimmable, possibly the clearest we have seen.
Sand - Beige coloured, grain score 3, where 1 is super fine and 10 is super coarse, probably about 10 to 20 meters between water and back of beach, depending on tide. Sadly, not combed, and there is a trickle of rubbish the length of the beach.
Development - No high-rises, no concrete, but the length of the beach is fringed with single storey wicker and cane restaurants and bars, all with loungers and chairs on their beach front, free to punters.
Food & Drink - The 50 or so bars all have similar menus offering, fried rice dishes, pizzas, BBQs, burgers etc. Cost are very reasonable, a meal for two and a couple of drinks each costing about US$7.
Patrons - Sihanoukville attracts a lot of Cambodians at the weekend, during the week it's almost all western backpackers. The beach has a lot of beggars doing laps of the sand, and young children trying to sell brick-a-brack souvenirs.
Behind the beach - grassy, bushy wasteland with the odd worn path leading up to the road which runs about 50 metres back from the beach with a string of 2 or 3 story hotels. There's no posh hotels here, with beach side pools, or 5 star restaurants, and no convenience stores.
There is a wonderful charm about Sihanoukville, as if it knows what it's more affluent competitors have, but that it is perfectly content with it's own style. It is very much not for the luxury resort dwellers, or those who want a pool to paddle in. It is for those who want to do nothing much and want to spend little doing it. There is a large roundabout a distance back from the beach, with two giant gold lions in the middle of it. It is an idiosyncracy given the size of the town it serves, but it meant that when we saw 7 or 8 cows take it upon themselves to go for a wander, against the trafficflow round the roundabout, there was plenty of space for everyone. The cows here aren't penned into fields. They are free to wander where they want, whether it be down the road, up to a restaurant (a dangerous endeavour if you ask me) or down to the beach, where we saw one bovine bather enjoying the scene as much as anyone else.
Three days in and having strolled the beach a few times, had a few meals and been made to feel really guilty as we drank our beers and got begged upon, we took a stroll to the town centre, an hour's walk away, and passed the golden lions. Mid stroll, we stopped in for relief from the sun and bought a couple of 'bubble-teas' to find out what they were and left none the wiser, both uncertain what exactly we had just drank (we think they were cold teas with marshmallows or jelly in them). With the town done in half the time it took to get there, we were ready to jump on a bus the following day and head up to Phnom Phen, the capital of Cambodia.
We boarded our ferry at 9.15 and at 9.45 another boat turned up full of boxes of fruit. They then proceeded to cross load the lot, a process that took an hour, and with a third of the emergency exits blocked, and an alarming list to the port side, we chugged out to sea. The state of the boat would terrify most people in the west, but as it was, this one looked probably-likely to make the journey, which is more than can be said for some of our previous marine excursions, despite the fact that the windows on our side were about 8 inches from the water level and the other side were about a good two foot. Thoughtfully, a plank of wood had been laid on top of some of the boxes allowing anyone who needed the toilet to climb up and walk the plank to the rear of the boat, stooping as they went. We didn't dare venture down to find what horrors awaited, instead we endured the noise of the TV down the front, turned to full volume, and pumping out of every speaker on the boat, as it distorted and pierced our brains for the best part of the 4 hour journey. We happily entered the beach resort of Sihanoukville in the afternoon and got a Tuc-Tuc from the port down to the beach where we found a suitable place to stay.
Although, considered Cambodia's premier beach resort, Sihanoukville, would be better considered Cambodia's best attempt at a beach resort. But don't take that as a criticism. Working from the water, and back to shore it can be succinctly described.
Water - Not as warm as Koh-Chang, but perfectly swimmable, possibly the clearest we have seen.
Sand - Beige coloured, grain score 3, where 1 is super fine and 10 is super coarse, probably about 10 to 20 meters between water and back of beach, depending on tide. Sadly, not combed, and there is a trickle of rubbish the length of the beach.
Development - No high-rises, no concrete, but the length of the beach is fringed with single storey wicker and cane restaurants and bars, all with loungers and chairs on their beach front, free to punters.
Food & Drink - The 50 or so bars all have similar menus offering, fried rice dishes, pizzas, BBQs, burgers etc. Cost are very reasonable, a meal for two and a couple of drinks each costing about US$7.
Patrons - Sihanoukville attracts a lot of Cambodians at the weekend, during the week it's almost all western backpackers. The beach has a lot of beggars doing laps of the sand, and young children trying to sell brick-a-brack souvenirs.
Behind the beach - grassy, bushy wasteland with the odd worn path leading up to the road which runs about 50 metres back from the beach with a string of 2 or 3 story hotels. There's no posh hotels here, with beach side pools, or 5 star restaurants, and no convenience stores.
There is a wonderful charm about Sihanoukville, as if it knows what it's more affluent competitors have, but that it is perfectly content with it's own style. It is very much not for the luxury resort dwellers, or those who want a pool to paddle in. It is for those who want to do nothing much and want to spend little doing it. There is a large roundabout a distance back from the beach, with two giant gold lions in the middle of it. It is an idiosyncracy given the size of the town it serves, but it meant that when we saw 7 or 8 cows take it upon themselves to go for a wander, against the trafficflow round the roundabout, there was plenty of space for everyone. The cows here aren't penned into fields. They are free to wander where they want, whether it be down the road, up to a restaurant (a dangerous endeavour if you ask me) or down to the beach, where we saw one bovine bather enjoying the scene as much as anyone else.
Three days in and having strolled the beach a few times, had a few meals and been made to feel really guilty as we drank our beers and got begged upon, we took a stroll to the town centre, an hour's walk away, and passed the golden lions. Mid stroll, we stopped in for relief from the sun and bought a couple of 'bubble-teas' to find out what they were and left none the wiser, both uncertain what exactly we had just drank (we think they were cold teas with marshmallows or jelly in them). With the town done in half the time it took to get there, we were ready to jump on a bus the following day and head up to Phnom Phen, the capital of Cambodia.
Wednesday, 20 June 2007
The Cambodian Immigration Incident
Crossing the border into Cambodia was always going to be a little stressful. It involved getting a minibus to the border, then walking over the border, declaring our departure to Thai immigration and then walking up to the Cambodian immigration, getting cleared and then getting a taxi to the nearest border town, at whatever cost the taxi driver chose. We had also prepared ourselves for crooked immigration workers, which we had read, tend to have mysterious surcharges added to the cost of the visa.
We were prepared. Nicola had done her research and knew we didn't need to pay anyone to carry our bags the short distance, or buy an immigration form off anyone. She also knew the cost of a Cambodian visa was $20US and that we didn't need to pay a penny more. We glided through all the initial stages without any hassle and then entered the Cambodian immigration office. It was a sparse room, with a window, bare walls, a door off the back and two desks. There was a man and a woman working, both probably in their mid 40's and in military uniform.
Everyone was smiles to start with and then we were told the visas has to be paid in Thai Baht, and the cost was equivalent to $40 each. I didn't think that seemed right, after what Nicki had read online, but my higher reasoning summed up that it was the lady saying this, so it was likely true (how has my naivety not got me into trouble before now?) I was going to mumble some line like I was sure it was supposed to be less, while digging out the money when I turned to Nicki, who with a calm manner replied, "no, it's $20 US for the visa, I checked this"- "no, it's 1400 Baht each that is what it costs". Further repetition of the facts from Nic, - "It is $20 if you arrange the visa in advance, it is 1400 Baht at the border". - "No it is not". Voices are starting to rise now, the man at the back, who has our passports is starting to listen more closely. "Okay, $30 each I do for you". - "No, the cost is $20 I checked this online, I know what it's supposed to cost. I spoke to your boss, It costs $20 and that's what I'm paying". The man takes an interest now and speaks up. "Why did you not do this on the internet, $20 is the cost for doing it online, and then you come here, you have piece of paper with number and is all free, but here you have to pay $30, that's the price". The whole time I have said nothing. The lady thinks I'm an idiot because I keep smiling with a slightly scared look on my face, but there is simply nothing I can add, Nic has all the lines, or rather the one line, repeated. A few more assertions from Nic, I try and nod and look assertive, from the shadows. "You cannot get visa here. You will have to leave passport and come back in three days. This needs to be sent away and processed". It occurs to me there is no further mention of $30 and I wonder if we should have just paid it and be done. I'm not going to dare suggest it though, Nic and the Lady have locked horns, there's going to be no capitulation here. "No. We can get the visas here, and you're going to do them for us just now and we're going to pay $20 each". - "You must wait outside". We stall a bit, he has our passports, and our $20 each. Outside that door wait a dozen taxi drivers who will prey on us like vultures, and will know exactly what our situation is and find it of much merriment. "Go, go. Go on, outside. You must fill out a form next door". Finally I have something useful to say, I hope my dumb smiling has won me at least one favour, "Can we leave our bags here?", "Yes, (exasperated) Go Go", waving of hand. We find the form but we need our passport numbers, this seems like a good excuse to get back into the room. We don't like being separated from those little books. They don't seem to notice that we have re-entered or they don't care. The man is sitting again, flicking through the passports, a form in front of him. The lady stands looking out the window. I approach and look over his shoulder. Like a school boy protecting his work from being copied he hunches over the paper and shouts at me "Why do you not do what I say? Wait outside, I am working". I state that I need my passport number. "No passport number, wait outside - go, go out now." He has become quite irate. "Take your bags", I remind him he said we could leave them, "No, take your bag, we're not responsible, now go outside and wait there". There's nothing else to do. We stand in the searing sun surrounded by drivers who have got the gist of the events from the lady who came out and clearly told them about us in Khmer. We can't go anywhere or do anything, we have our bags on our backs and an increasing sense of doom.
Then this very eccentric old lady appears and in a rather confused state wanders into the room. She is Swiss, and speaks in a very posh English teacher kind of a way. As the door closes behind her we hear her asking how to get to the town from where she is. Presumably the trail of drivers that have followed her have not given her a satisfactory answer. The other drivers hovering around us, rub their palms in anticipation. She is bundled out a moment later and the officious lady takes our completed forms off us and vanishes back inside. The mad old lady then starts asking us how she is supposed to get to the town. We weren't really needing this just at the moment. It was apparent we were going to be obliged to offer her a share of our taxi but we knew that she would seriously affect our bargaining position, as she had suitably chastised a couple of drivers already.
Now we're suddenly trying to stop an escalating taxi fare, while our passports are in uncertain hands. We've reached a stalemate with the drivers. We know the fare is too high, they know it is too, but they think the lady will accept it and we'll have to pay a share equivalent to the standard full rate anyway, and we'll have to accept because there's no alternative, and besides, it's what we would have paid. It turns out though, the mad old lady only has 100 Baht in notes. "This will be enough won't it?" she asks us in confidence, for everyone to hear. In a civil world it would be yes, but stuck at a remote border crossing, no chance! We're going to have to split the bill fair three ways for her to afford it, and that's now costing us more money.
We're still waiting for our passports at this point, it might all be academic if we get sent back anyway. The lady comes back out with our passports. The visa is a big sticker with a price printed on it, $20US. My moment of relief is short lived though when Nicki says, in no uncertain terms. "I am going to report you. What is your number? I am going to report you to the immigration department". There is a fumble and the lady turns back around and picks up our passports again to take them back into the room. "Oh, I see your badge has mysteriously vanished. What happened to your badge? What is your number?" My placating hand gestures are not doing the trick. We have missed a signature it turns out. We sign the cards and then the man calls us back in, "You have not completed the section on where you are staying". This is only a ploy though. He has changed desks, is smiley and more soft spoken than before. "Sir, (he's talking to me now) I am sorry that I got angry earlier, some times I get confused and I don't speak good English". In fact it has got noticeably worse since he last shouted at me. There follows a speech on Cambodia's struggle since the civil war ended only a decade ago. How many people in Cambodia are struggling to get by and how some people need a little extra money than there wages provide. He repeats, that he is telling us this so that should we encounter anyone like this, we know the reasons. "Don't have a cold heart sir". A few more assurances of good luck and 'thankyou very much'es and we were on our way in our over priced taxi, heading for Koh-Kong, where we would spend a night before moving on.
Sitting at dinner, with another couple we met in a restaurant, and keeping half an eye out to avoid the crazy lady, we discussed the incident and the apology of sorts. Nic and I had wondered if they picked the wrong couple of the day to try it on. How much do they earn, and do they try that scam very often? If they had made $20 off us each, would it have made any difference to their situation. We asked the other couple what they paid. 1,400 Baht each.
We were prepared. Nicola had done her research and knew we didn't need to pay anyone to carry our bags the short distance, or buy an immigration form off anyone. She also knew the cost of a Cambodian visa was $20US and that we didn't need to pay a penny more. We glided through all the initial stages without any hassle and then entered the Cambodian immigration office. It was a sparse room, with a window, bare walls, a door off the back and two desks. There was a man and a woman working, both probably in their mid 40's and in military uniform.
Everyone was smiles to start with and then we were told the visas has to be paid in Thai Baht, and the cost was equivalent to $40 each. I didn't think that seemed right, after what Nicki had read online, but my higher reasoning summed up that it was the lady saying this, so it was likely true (how has my naivety not got me into trouble before now?) I was going to mumble some line like I was sure it was supposed to be less, while digging out the money when I turned to Nicki, who with a calm manner replied, "no, it's $20 US for the visa, I checked this"- "no, it's 1400 Baht each that is what it costs". Further repetition of the facts from Nic, - "It is $20 if you arrange the visa in advance, it is 1400 Baht at the border". - "No it is not". Voices are starting to rise now, the man at the back, who has our passports is starting to listen more closely. "Okay, $30 each I do for you". - "No, the cost is $20 I checked this online, I know what it's supposed to cost. I spoke to your boss, It costs $20 and that's what I'm paying". The man takes an interest now and speaks up. "Why did you not do this on the internet, $20 is the cost for doing it online, and then you come here, you have piece of paper with number and is all free, but here you have to pay $30, that's the price". The whole time I have said nothing. The lady thinks I'm an idiot because I keep smiling with a slightly scared look on my face, but there is simply nothing I can add, Nic has all the lines, or rather the one line, repeated. A few more assertions from Nic, I try and nod and look assertive, from the shadows. "You cannot get visa here. You will have to leave passport and come back in three days. This needs to be sent away and processed". It occurs to me there is no further mention of $30 and I wonder if we should have just paid it and be done. I'm not going to dare suggest it though, Nic and the Lady have locked horns, there's going to be no capitulation here. "No. We can get the visas here, and you're going to do them for us just now and we're going to pay $20 each". - "You must wait outside". We stall a bit, he has our passports, and our $20 each. Outside that door wait a dozen taxi drivers who will prey on us like vultures, and will know exactly what our situation is and find it of much merriment. "Go, go. Go on, outside. You must fill out a form next door". Finally I have something useful to say, I hope my dumb smiling has won me at least one favour, "Can we leave our bags here?", "Yes, (exasperated) Go Go", waving of hand. We find the form but we need our passport numbers, this seems like a good excuse to get back into the room. We don't like being separated from those little books. They don't seem to notice that we have re-entered or they don't care. The man is sitting again, flicking through the passports, a form in front of him. The lady stands looking out the window. I approach and look over his shoulder. Like a school boy protecting his work from being copied he hunches over the paper and shouts at me "Why do you not do what I say? Wait outside, I am working". I state that I need my passport number. "No passport number, wait outside - go, go out now." He has become quite irate. "Take your bags", I remind him he said we could leave them, "No, take your bag, we're not responsible, now go outside and wait there". There's nothing else to do. We stand in the searing sun surrounded by drivers who have got the gist of the events from the lady who came out and clearly told them about us in Khmer. We can't go anywhere or do anything, we have our bags on our backs and an increasing sense of doom.
Then this very eccentric old lady appears and in a rather confused state wanders into the room. She is Swiss, and speaks in a very posh English teacher kind of a way. As the door closes behind her we hear her asking how to get to the town from where she is. Presumably the trail of drivers that have followed her have not given her a satisfactory answer. The other drivers hovering around us, rub their palms in anticipation. She is bundled out a moment later and the officious lady takes our completed forms off us and vanishes back inside. The mad old lady then starts asking us how she is supposed to get to the town. We weren't really needing this just at the moment. It was apparent we were going to be obliged to offer her a share of our taxi but we knew that she would seriously affect our bargaining position, as she had suitably chastised a couple of drivers already.
Now we're suddenly trying to stop an escalating taxi fare, while our passports are in uncertain hands. We've reached a stalemate with the drivers. We know the fare is too high, they know it is too, but they think the lady will accept it and we'll have to pay a share equivalent to the standard full rate anyway, and we'll have to accept because there's no alternative, and besides, it's what we would have paid. It turns out though, the mad old lady only has 100 Baht in notes. "This will be enough won't it?" she asks us in confidence, for everyone to hear. In a civil world it would be yes, but stuck at a remote border crossing, no chance! We're going to have to split the bill fair three ways for her to afford it, and that's now costing us more money.
We're still waiting for our passports at this point, it might all be academic if we get sent back anyway. The lady comes back out with our passports. The visa is a big sticker with a price printed on it, $20US. My moment of relief is short lived though when Nicki says, in no uncertain terms. "I am going to report you. What is your number? I am going to report you to the immigration department". There is a fumble and the lady turns back around and picks up our passports again to take them back into the room. "Oh, I see your badge has mysteriously vanished. What happened to your badge? What is your number?" My placating hand gestures are not doing the trick. We have missed a signature it turns out. We sign the cards and then the man calls us back in, "You have not completed the section on where you are staying". This is only a ploy though. He has changed desks, is smiley and more soft spoken than before. "Sir, (he's talking to me now) I am sorry that I got angry earlier, some times I get confused and I don't speak good English". In fact it has got noticeably worse since he last shouted at me. There follows a speech on Cambodia's struggle since the civil war ended only a decade ago. How many people in Cambodia are struggling to get by and how some people need a little extra money than there wages provide. He repeats, that he is telling us this so that should we encounter anyone like this, we know the reasons. "Don't have a cold heart sir". A few more assurances of good luck and 'thankyou very much'es and we were on our way in our over priced taxi, heading for Koh-Kong, where we would spend a night before moving on.
Sitting at dinner, with another couple we met in a restaurant, and keeping half an eye out to avoid the crazy lady, we discussed the incident and the apology of sorts. Nic and I had wondered if they picked the wrong couple of the day to try it on. How much do they earn, and do they try that scam very often? If they had made $20 off us each, would it have made any difference to their situation. We asked the other couple what they paid. 1,400 Baht each.
Koh-Chang and the Ferry of Doom
We wanted to get one more dive done while we had the chance, heeding the warning that people who don't dive soon after their qualification tend not to dive again. Koh-Chang, an Island off the South East coast of Thailand, just back from the Cambodian border seemed a good opportunity.
The bus from Bangkok terminated in a small town called Trat. It's name sums it up rather well. We spent a night and then got the ferry the next day to the Island. The ferry met expectations in terms of it's state but what exceeded expectations was the lacklustre attitude by the crew. It was a roll-on-roll-off style ferry, with a big door at the back where cars drive on and a big door at the front where they drive off (and pedestrians walk off between the moving cars). Anyone familiar with the Zebrugger ferry disaster will know the dangers inherent in this design of ship. This however didn't include the crew of our particular ferry who obviously considered it more hassle than it was worth to raise either of the doors for the 45 minute crossing. Having taken stock of the location of the life jackets (just a small climb on top of the tuck shop to reach them down from the roof), I then couldn't believe what I saw next. A passenger walked out to the end of the forward ramp, above the water to get his photo taken. Surprised at this, I wondered if any crewman had spotted this act of lunacy. A member of crew did approach, but I realised he did not share my concern, instead lowering the ramp till it was skiffing off the water to presumably help improve the photo. What can I say!
The Thai Tourist Board is trying to develop Koh-Chang into an upmarket resort choice and what was once the preserve of the backpacker has almost entirely been bought out from under them. There still remains a small offering for the restricted budget though and as it was off-season we were not short of accommodation options. We stayed at White-Sands, which is the largest town on the Island and has the most amenities. At first we wondered if we should have sought one of the more authentic, less developed beaches down the coast, but a conversation with another couple, later, who had done that very thing revealed that in their opinion we had made the right choice. There wasn't much to do here other than enjoy the beach and spend a day on a dive.
Again it was a two dive day but the boat this time was much smaller and the experience all round was much smaller too. The diving itself was still good though, albeit it was quite a different kind of environment. There was a lot more current in the water and visibility was a lot less but it was great to be out doing a dive as grown ups. The highlight was when we saw a turtle on the first dive, it was great to see it, chomping away on a plant and then it decided to give us the shake vanishing beyond our visibility. We popped up after the dive and no sooner did I get on board than I was sea-sick. Not wanting to look like a one hit wonder, I promptly repeated my performance after the second dive too. Still, the fish didn't seem to mind as they came up to try a bit of it for themselves. Waste not want not.
Despite being the rainy season, the weather in Koh-Chang could not have been better. It was super sunny and hot and the sea temperature was 31°C. It was truly like wading into a bath when we went for a swim on the beach. Incidentally, that was the sea temperature further out to sea where we went diving so it was probably a little hotter again at the beach. The hotels, all had little restaurants and bars opening onto the beach and you could have the pick of any venue, since being low season the whole place only seemed to be about a quarter full. We stayed there for four days before heading back to the mainland to make our connection for Cambodia.
The bus from Bangkok terminated in a small town called Trat. It's name sums it up rather well. We spent a night and then got the ferry the next day to the Island. The ferry met expectations in terms of it's state but what exceeded expectations was the lacklustre attitude by the crew. It was a roll-on-roll-off style ferry, with a big door at the back where cars drive on and a big door at the front where they drive off (and pedestrians walk off between the moving cars). Anyone familiar with the Zebrugger ferry disaster will know the dangers inherent in this design of ship. This however didn't include the crew of our particular ferry who obviously considered it more hassle than it was worth to raise either of the doors for the 45 minute crossing. Having taken stock of the location of the life jackets (just a small climb on top of the tuck shop to reach them down from the roof), I then couldn't believe what I saw next. A passenger walked out to the end of the forward ramp, above the water to get his photo taken. Surprised at this, I wondered if any crewman had spotted this act of lunacy. A member of crew did approach, but I realised he did not share my concern, instead lowering the ramp till it was skiffing off the water to presumably help improve the photo. What can I say!
The Thai Tourist Board is trying to develop Koh-Chang into an upmarket resort choice and what was once the preserve of the backpacker has almost entirely been bought out from under them. There still remains a small offering for the restricted budget though and as it was off-season we were not short of accommodation options. We stayed at White-Sands, which is the largest town on the Island and has the most amenities. At first we wondered if we should have sought one of the more authentic, less developed beaches down the coast, but a conversation with another couple, later, who had done that very thing revealed that in their opinion we had made the right choice. There wasn't much to do here other than enjoy the beach and spend a day on a dive.
Again it was a two dive day but the boat this time was much smaller and the experience all round was much smaller too. The diving itself was still good though, albeit it was quite a different kind of environment. There was a lot more current in the water and visibility was a lot less but it was great to be out doing a dive as grown ups. The highlight was when we saw a turtle on the first dive, it was great to see it, chomping away on a plant and then it decided to give us the shake vanishing beyond our visibility. We popped up after the dive and no sooner did I get on board than I was sea-sick. Not wanting to look like a one hit wonder, I promptly repeated my performance after the second dive too. Still, the fish didn't seem to mind as they came up to try a bit of it for themselves. Waste not want not.
Despite being the rainy season, the weather in Koh-Chang could not have been better. It was super sunny and hot and the sea temperature was 31°C. It was truly like wading into a bath when we went for a swim on the beach. Incidentally, that was the sea temperature further out to sea where we went diving so it was probably a little hotter again at the beach. The hotels, all had little restaurants and bars opening onto the beach and you could have the pick of any venue, since being low season the whole place only seemed to be about a quarter full. We stayed there for four days before heading back to the mainland to make our connection for Cambodia.
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