'And so the end is near.....' yes the last three months have flown by and here I am preparing to go home; I am very tempted to get an Air Asia flight back to Phnom Penh but common sense overcomes the heart and I board the Emirates 737 jet to Dubai with very mixed feelings. Not quite as emotional as my departure from Cambodia but equally as poignant and upsetting. Having spent this amount of time in a foreign land one gets used to having conversations with ones self and the mind is whirring as I get comfy for the six and a half hour flight to Dubai.
I can't help thinking of all the wonderful people I have met and try desperately to control my thoughts as we take off into the skies above Kuala Lumpur. It's 02.30hrs and I have been up for 18hrs and I am already dreading the coach trip from Gatwick to Plymouth; but that is still some 22hrs away!! Plenty of time to wrestle with my over active brain which is driving me to distraction with so many memories to deal with.
We arrive safely in Dubai and now there is a four hour wait. I am feeling a bit peckish so I enquire as to how much a cheese roll and coffee would be; £11 is the reply but no change is given in coins if you pay in GBP; so that's £15 then!!! I suggest to the guy serving me what he can do with his cheese roll and long for a dollar snack, Phnom Penh style.
We depart from Dubai for the next leg of the journey; seven and a half hours to London,Gatwick. This goes surprisingly quickly and the plane is only half full so I have three seats to myself; the food once again on Emirates Airlines is first class and the in-house entertainment helps to pass the time.
Gatwick, London 11.55.am, cold, wet, miserable, depressing and now I have to get to Plymouth! It's a quick hop from Gatwick to Heathrow and then a four hour wait for the next coach to Plymouth. I have noticed several advertising boards around Heathrow boasting of the claim to be the busiest airport in the world; well that may be true, but I am at the CENTRAL bus station of the BUSIEST airport in the world and quite frankly it beggars belief.
The seating area is exposed on three sides to the freezing cold wind; there are automatic doors but due to the volume of travellers they are constantly open. There is one small cafe which seats about twenty people and that is the only place that is remotely warm. Given that the majority of travellers have probably just returned from warmer climates it amazes me that there is not a proper heated waiting room at the bus terminal of the busiest airport in the world! Welcome to Heathrow central bus station. To cap it all I am asked to move from the cafe because I have apparently spent too long occupying a seat, having finished my coffee. Michael Douglas, in the film, Falling Down springs to mind, and I am glad I am not carrying a gun. I can't summon the energy to argue with the young oick who takes great relish in suggesting I move on, so I go in search of somewhere warm to wait and that ends up to be at Trerminal 2, quite a hike away but warm and enclosed.
I long for the dirty streets of Phnom Penh, the smiling faces of its' wonderful people and the friendly, jovial service they impart with such selfless charm. There is at least a refreshing reality and pragmatism of the modus operandi in Phnom Penh; they are not bogged down in bureaucratic nonsense and order which is stifling the very soul of this country. Rules, regulations, officialdom and political correctness have created an Orwellian nightmare in the UK and I begin to wonder whether I was caught on camera telling the manager of the cafe to stick his coffee where the sun don't shine!
Am I bitter, twisted, pissed off, opinionated; yes of course I am. i have just come back from a country rife with corruption but the Cambodian's are mere amateurs at it compared to the fat cat movers and shakers here. The recent demise in the banking system is surely one of the most fraudalent and corrupt examples of this. At least in Cambodia the corruption is open, acknowledged and accepted as the norm and no one hides behind the veneer of lies, more lies and stastistics.
I am now on the coach from Heathrow to Plymouth; cold, tired and wishing I was somewhere else. Yes, I am rather sensitive at the moment; yes I am exhausted after a 48hr journey; and yes I do feel like punching someone. Funny, how for the last three months, whilst being amongst some of the poorest people I have ever met, people with little means to feed themselves; funny that I felt calm, collected, happy and content despite the appalling poverty and hardship I witnessed. These people are not channelled in to the narrow minded hypocrisy that our politicians spew forth with monotonous regularity; quite simply there are far more important things for them to deal with. Getting food on the table is number one and caring for their extended family is number two. This is done with a smile, in good spirit and without a word of complaint on a daily basis. There are no crass rules and regulations on how to achieve these aims, but achieve them they do, in a virtually crime free environment and, with that all consuming smile.
We arrive at a motorway services and the driver goes to great lengths to explain that a bottle with a screw top is allowed on board but a styrofoam coffee cup, sealed and with a straw is not; fucking marvellous!! I go to the restaurant and start to read the seven point 'charter' on 'How to order food! Iv'e lost the will to live and get back on the coach, still cold and thirsty.
We arrive at Plymouth's biggest urinal, that is Bretonside bus station where I am met by my father. Welcome back to Great Britain; I think they have got the name wrong. I'm out of here and hopefully, very soon, the UK. See you.
P.S. When I get home there is an email for me from Srey Von; she tells me that her grandfather has died and that she has to sell her mobile phone and work five 14hr days to get enough money to give to her mother, to 'celebrate ' his life. She will have to travel to Prey Veng province, where I spent Christmas day, and take three days unpaid leave. I ring her and she quite simply says; "Don't worry darling, that's how we do things here"................I am missing Cambodia already.
Monday 2 February 2009
Tuesday 20 January 2009
A TIME TO REFLECT
Cheers!!!!!!!
Life for many in the Mekong region has undergone a profound transition in the space of a generation, even if the politics havn't always come along for the ride.
In Cambodia, the veneer of democracy wears thin. Elections come around every five years, but the Cambodians Peoples Party continues to control the military, the police, the civil service and the judiciary. There is no separation between party and state and woe betide those who cross the line and criticise the head honcho's.
Corruption remains a cancer throughout the Mekong region. Despite the best intentions of a small minority, the worst intentions of many a minister and their underlings continues to cost the Mekong countries hundreds of millions of dollars in lost assets. China and Vietnam have started tackling corruption head on with high-profile executions and prison sentences. Senior party officials have been put away, but cronyism and nepotism remain alive and well in an undemocratic system.
In Cambodia, corruption has been elevated to an art form. Democracy has been supplanted by kleptocracy, governance by theft, and millions of dollars have been syphoned away in recent years. National service is dead, it's all about self service and Cambodian politicians are as self serving as they come. An anticorruption law has been on the table for more than a decade, but international donors seem to suffer from collective amnesia every time it comes to signing the cheque books.
Despite all this, I found Cambodia to be enchanting, vibrant, exciting, frightening, sad, comical, humbling and above all the friendliest place I have ever had the pleasure to visit.
How can I forget the wonderful hospitality I experienced in Kandal and Prey Veng provinces with Sreyvon and her family; the moto man who pushed me across a flooded road, three foot deep in water, on the back of his motorbike; the kids in the market mopping my brow; buying sandwiches for the street boys on Street 51; playing football with a group of young schoolboys; the smiling, happy faces of people with little or nothing; the enjoyment of seeing people enjoy every last scrap of food on their plate; the horror of S-21 prison; the chilling stories of so many people whose lives were profoundly affected by Pol Pot; the constant hassling of the moto men who never knew where they going!; the tuk-tuk men; the beggars; the traffic; the fruit shakes; the Angkor beer; the filthy streets by day, cleaned every night; the roadside workshops; the rain; the heat; Mr. Phannak and his brother at the Fancy Guesthouse; Chhom(Mr. Fixit); the snails, snakes, spiders and dogs!; Norm and Barbara at the Little Garden Restaurant; Kampot sunsets and expats, Christian, Steve and Ezra; the crabs on the bus; karaoke taxi ride; The Roomchang Dental clinic; The Dara Reang Sey hotel and its wonderful staff; The Hollywood night and moto men; the Killing Fields; the Mekong at dawn; the mosquitos; Bob, Ravi, Atu, Da, Sreycow, Lina, Chea, and the staff at Howie's bar; the Golden Vine; the Zeppelin Cafe; the Angkor International hotel; the night market; the Cambodian barbecue cafes; Independence day and last but certainly not least one very special lady and her truly wonderful family.
Cambodia got under my skin and I will be back. I hope you have all enjoyed sharing this with me. Sometimes it has not been easy to get internet access but on the whole I have managed without too much difficulty. My only regret is that some or all of you could not be here to witness some of the incredible things I have seen.
Juab khnia thngay kraoy(see you soon)
Mekongpete!
Life for many in the Mekong region has undergone a profound transition in the space of a generation, even if the politics havn't always come along for the ride.
In Cambodia, the veneer of democracy wears thin. Elections come around every five years, but the Cambodians Peoples Party continues to control the military, the police, the civil service and the judiciary. There is no separation between party and state and woe betide those who cross the line and criticise the head honcho's.
Corruption remains a cancer throughout the Mekong region. Despite the best intentions of a small minority, the worst intentions of many a minister and their underlings continues to cost the Mekong countries hundreds of millions of dollars in lost assets. China and Vietnam have started tackling corruption head on with high-profile executions and prison sentences. Senior party officials have been put away, but cronyism and nepotism remain alive and well in an undemocratic system.
In Cambodia, corruption has been elevated to an art form. Democracy has been supplanted by kleptocracy, governance by theft, and millions of dollars have been syphoned away in recent years. National service is dead, it's all about self service and Cambodian politicians are as self serving as they come. An anticorruption law has been on the table for more than a decade, but international donors seem to suffer from collective amnesia every time it comes to signing the cheque books.
Despite all this, I found Cambodia to be enchanting, vibrant, exciting, frightening, sad, comical, humbling and above all the friendliest place I have ever had the pleasure to visit.
How can I forget the wonderful hospitality I experienced in Kandal and Prey Veng provinces with Sreyvon and her family; the moto man who pushed me across a flooded road, three foot deep in water, on the back of his motorbike; the kids in the market mopping my brow; buying sandwiches for the street boys on Street 51; playing football with a group of young schoolboys; the smiling, happy faces of people with little or nothing; the enjoyment of seeing people enjoy every last scrap of food on their plate; the horror of S-21 prison; the chilling stories of so many people whose lives were profoundly affected by Pol Pot; the constant hassling of the moto men who never knew where they going!; the tuk-tuk men; the beggars; the traffic; the fruit shakes; the Angkor beer; the filthy streets by day, cleaned every night; the roadside workshops; the rain; the heat; Mr. Phannak and his brother at the Fancy Guesthouse; Chhom(Mr. Fixit); the snails, snakes, spiders and dogs!; Norm and Barbara at the Little Garden Restaurant; Kampot sunsets and expats, Christian, Steve and Ezra; the crabs on the bus; karaoke taxi ride; The Roomchang Dental clinic; The Dara Reang Sey hotel and its wonderful staff; The Hollywood night and moto men; the Killing Fields; the Mekong at dawn; the mosquitos; Bob, Ravi, Atu, Da, Sreycow, Lina, Chea, and the staff at Howie's bar; the Golden Vine; the Zeppelin Cafe; the Angkor International hotel; the night market; the Cambodian barbecue cafes; Independence day and last but certainly not least one very special lady and her truly wonderful family.
Cambodia got under my skin and I will be back. I hope you have all enjoyed sharing this with me. Sometimes it has not been easy to get internet access but on the whole I have managed without too much difficulty. My only regret is that some or all of you could not be here to witness some of the incredible things I have seen.
Juab khnia thngay kraoy(see you soon)
Mekongpete!
Sunday 18 January 2009
KUALA KANGSAR, JANUARY 2009
So, here I am back in Kuala Kangsar! Things havn't changed too much in the last 28 years and this small sleepy town still maintains a peaceful charm and sense of tranquility.
The Rumah Rehat has had a face lift and had an extension built but the rooms are still huge and now have the added luxury of air conditioning, which is a just as well as it is extremely hot here compared to Cambodia. After showering I went for a stroll into the town centre and stopped by the roadside for a delicioius guava fruit drink. The kids are just as interested in me as they were back in 1980 and most of them like to stop and say hello or more to practice their English.
Later I had a meal at the Rest House and realised that I must be in the only 'dry' town in Asia!!! The only place to get a beer is in one of the few Chinese restaurants. On reflection and after talking to the local taxi driver I realised that Sultan Idris 11 was a bit of a 'playboy' Sultan and subsequently had a fairly liberal view on the sale of alcohol; a view that the current Sultan, Azlan Shah, obviously does not seem to share! Anyway after a stroll and a cup of tea(!), I decided to have an early night in preparation for the hunt for Shah tomorrow.
It had come to light that Shah was possibly in Ipoh, a town about 25miles from Kuala Kangsar, so that night I got a taxi there and asked many people if they knew him or his whereabouts. I was sat on my own and feeling a bit frustrated at my hapless search for Shah, when a Chinese guy asked me if I wanted a game of pool. Dennis, he was called was five foot nothing with small round glasses and played pool with one hand!. He held the cue like you would hold a dart and was suprisingly good despite this unorthodox style. He seemed to be on a mission to drink the bar dry of whisky and was soon joined by six of his friends. They were all construction workers on the nearby E1 motorway and were out celebrating one of their birthdays. I steered clear of the whisky and had a few games of pool and left to continue my search.
I managed to get a phone number from one of the bar staff next door but unfortunately it was not the Shah I knew! It was now quite late and time to get a taxi back to Kuala Kangsar. The nexy day I tried going to the palace office, the national museum and the tourist information centre but all to no avail and realised that I wasn't going to be able to find my friend after all. I suppose it was a bit of a long shot after all those years but I could not help feeling incredibly upset that I would not see him or any of his family. I hadn't realised that the current Sultan was not infact related to Shah; I had been given some duff information to the contrary which had built my hopes up! Never mind, my stay here has been very relaxing but tinged with a few regrets. Tomorrow I return to Kuala Lumpur and fly back to the UK in the early hours of Friday morning. I can't believe it is three months since I left!!
The Rumah Rehat has had a face lift and had an extension built but the rooms are still huge and now have the added luxury of air conditioning, which is a just as well as it is extremely hot here compared to Cambodia. After showering I went for a stroll into the town centre and stopped by the roadside for a delicioius guava fruit drink. The kids are just as interested in me as they were back in 1980 and most of them like to stop and say hello or more to practice their English.
Later I had a meal at the Rest House and realised that I must be in the only 'dry' town in Asia!!! The only place to get a beer is in one of the few Chinese restaurants. On reflection and after talking to the local taxi driver I realised that Sultan Idris 11 was a bit of a 'playboy' Sultan and subsequently had a fairly liberal view on the sale of alcohol; a view that the current Sultan, Azlan Shah, obviously does not seem to share! Anyway after a stroll and a cup of tea(!), I decided to have an early night in preparation for the hunt for Shah tomorrow.
It had come to light that Shah was possibly in Ipoh, a town about 25miles from Kuala Kangsar, so that night I got a taxi there and asked many people if they knew him or his whereabouts. I was sat on my own and feeling a bit frustrated at my hapless search for Shah, when a Chinese guy asked me if I wanted a game of pool. Dennis, he was called was five foot nothing with small round glasses and played pool with one hand!. He held the cue like you would hold a dart and was suprisingly good despite this unorthodox style. He seemed to be on a mission to drink the bar dry of whisky and was soon joined by six of his friends. They were all construction workers on the nearby E1 motorway and were out celebrating one of their birthdays. I steered clear of the whisky and had a few games of pool and left to continue my search.
I managed to get a phone number from one of the bar staff next door but unfortunately it was not the Shah I knew! It was now quite late and time to get a taxi back to Kuala Kangsar. The nexy day I tried going to the palace office, the national museum and the tourist information centre but all to no avail and realised that I wasn't going to be able to find my friend after all. I suppose it was a bit of a long shot after all those years but I could not help feeling incredibly upset that I would not see him or any of his family. I hadn't realised that the current Sultan was not infact related to Shah; I had been given some duff information to the contrary which had built my hopes up! Never mind, my stay here has been very relaxing but tinged with a few regrets. Tomorrow I return to Kuala Lumpur and fly back to the UK in the early hours of Friday morning. I can't believe it is three months since I left!!
Thursday 15 January 2009
KUALA KANGSAR, PERAK, MALAYSIA, 28 YEARS ON.
The Perak river from outside the Rest House
Ubudiah Mosque and Royal Mausoleum, Kuala Kangsar
Masjid Ubudiah - ranking high on the list of Malaysia's most beautiful mosques, the Masjid Ubudiah (or Ubudiah Mosque) stands majestically in Kuala Kangsar, with its golden dome and minarets creating a spellbinding sight, from near and afar.
The mosque was designed by Arthur Benison Hubback, a government architect who is notably credited for the design of the railway stations in Ipoh and Kuala Lumpur.
Built in 1917 during the reign of the 28th Sultan of Perak, the Masjid Ubudiah is located beside the Roal Mausoleum, pictured below, on Bukit Chandan. It was commissioned on the orders of the Sultan, who vowed to create a mosque of great beauty as thanksgiving for recovery from an illness which plagued him for some time.
The construction of the Mosque was not without difficulties. Work was interrupted several times, once when two elephants ran amok damaging the imported Italian marble tiles and secocondly by the Japanese invasion at the outbreak of the Second World War.
The Mosque was finally completed in 1917 at a total cost of RM200,000 (approx.£34000 todays money) - quite an astronomical figure in those days. This imposing structure is now a symbol of great pride to all Muslims in the State of Perak.
The land of Grace, Perak, is situated along the West coast of Peninsula Malaysia. Lying between Kedah in the North and Selangor in the South, it is made up of nine charming districts, home to a multinatiional populace of over two million. Major towns include Ipoh, the State capital and administrative centre; Kuala Kangsar, the Royal town; Taiping, the former State capital and Lumut, the main seaport.
Perak, which means silver in Malay, is said to have derived its name from the silvery tin ore which brought great wealth and prosperity to the state. The Kinta valley, once had the distinction of containing the world's richest tin deposits. Naturally, Ipoh, Taiping, Kampar, Bidor, Batu Gajah and Tronoh grew because of the rich reserves of this mineral. However from being heavily dependent on tin and farming, its economy has diversified. Presently the major economic activities in the State include tourism, agriculture, manufacturing, construction and trade and commerce.
The modern history of Perak dates from around 1528 when the present Sultanate began under Sultan Muzzafar Shah, the eldest son of the last Sultan of Melaka. Famed for its tin deposits, Peark faced threats both from its neighbours and from foreign powers. British assistance in the 1820's helped to bring political stability to the state.
However around 1950, the discovery of rich tin mining land around Taiping by Long Jafaar brought an influx of Chinese miners, which led to feuds between several Chinese clans and secret societies. The 1870's saw a royal succession dispute, which was settled by British intervention in 1874, recognising Raja Abdullah as Sultan.
In 1897, Perak became one of the four states forming the Federated Malay States and in 1957 along with the other states formed the Federation of Malaysia.
Views from the 'rest house' in Kuala Kangsar, along the Perak river.
Rumah Rehat, Kuala Kangsar
View from my room; the state flag of Perak in the foreground
Ubudiah Mosque and Royal Mausoleum, Kuala Kangsar
Masjid Ubudiah - ranking high on the list of Malaysia's most beautiful mosques, the Masjid Ubudiah (or Ubudiah Mosque) stands majestically in Kuala Kangsar, with its golden dome and minarets creating a spellbinding sight, from near and afar.
The mosque was designed by Arthur Benison Hubback, a government architect who is notably credited for the design of the railway stations in Ipoh and Kuala Lumpur.
Built in 1917 during the reign of the 28th Sultan of Perak, the Masjid Ubudiah is located beside the Roal Mausoleum, pictured below, on Bukit Chandan. It was commissioned on the orders of the Sultan, who vowed to create a mosque of great beauty as thanksgiving for recovery from an illness which plagued him for some time.
The construction of the Mosque was not without difficulties. Work was interrupted several times, once when two elephants ran amok damaging the imported Italian marble tiles and secocondly by the Japanese invasion at the outbreak of the Second World War.
The Mosque was finally completed in 1917 at a total cost of RM200,000 (approx.£34000 todays money) - quite an astronomical figure in those days. This imposing structure is now a symbol of great pride to all Muslims in the State of Perak.
The land of Grace, Perak, is situated along the West coast of Peninsula Malaysia. Lying between Kedah in the North and Selangor in the South, it is made up of nine charming districts, home to a multinatiional populace of over two million. Major towns include Ipoh, the State capital and administrative centre; Kuala Kangsar, the Royal town; Taiping, the former State capital and Lumut, the main seaport.
Perak, which means silver in Malay, is said to have derived its name from the silvery tin ore which brought great wealth and prosperity to the state. The Kinta valley, once had the distinction of containing the world's richest tin deposits. Naturally, Ipoh, Taiping, Kampar, Bidor, Batu Gajah and Tronoh grew because of the rich reserves of this mineral. However from being heavily dependent on tin and farming, its economy has diversified. Presently the major economic activities in the State include tourism, agriculture, manufacturing, construction and trade and commerce.
The modern history of Perak dates from around 1528 when the present Sultanate began under Sultan Muzzafar Shah, the eldest son of the last Sultan of Melaka. Famed for its tin deposits, Peark faced threats both from its neighbours and from foreign powers. British assistance in the 1820's helped to bring political stability to the state.
However around 1950, the discovery of rich tin mining land around Taiping by Long Jafaar brought an influx of Chinese miners, which led to feuds between several Chinese clans and secret societies. The 1870's saw a royal succession dispute, which was settled by British intervention in 1874, recognising Raja Abdullah as Sultan.
In 1897, Perak became one of the four states forming the Federated Malay States and in 1957 along with the other states formed the Federation of Malaysia.
Views from the 'rest house' in Kuala Kangsar, along the Perak river.
Rumah Rehat, Kuala Kangsar
View from my room; the state flag of Perak in the foreground
Tuesday 13 January 2009
KUALA LUMPUR
The Petronas Towers, Kuala Lumpur
The farewells have been said and I decided to go to the airport on my own despite several people wanting to come and see me off. Leaving Phnom Penh was very sad but I am sure I will be back there as soon as is possible. Farewells are never easy and I was surprised how attached I had become to the city and its wonderful people.
The flight to KL was short and sweet but bumpy most of the way. A bus to KL Sentral, then a mono rail ride and a short walk got me to the Matahari hostel/hotel by about 9.30.p.m. The room is basic but very clean and safe and the Singaporean staff are extremely helpful. It is very hot and humid here, about 30c at midnight, much hotter than Phnom Penh, and no cooling breeze either! I had a wander around Chinatown which is only 5 minutes walk from here and had some fried rice with duck washed down with a Tiger beer. Maybe I had got used to the poverty of Cambodia because here seemed so affluent, clean and almost sanitised compared to Phnom Penh; to be honest I didn,t really enjoy the couple of hours in Chinatown and I felt a little bit uneasy walking home later on. Cambodian withdrawal symptoms maybe. I went into a bar for a nightcap and it was full of tourists drinking very expensive Carlsberg lager, about £4 a pint, so I did an about turn, came back here and sat on the roof garden with a couple from Italy for an hour or so.
I have booked a ticket to go to Kuala Kangsar on Thursday where I hope to track down Shah who I stayed with in 1980. I am quite excited at the prospect of returning there after 28 years and have managed to book a room at the Rumah Rehat ( government rest house ) where I stayed all those years ago. Later today when it cools down a bit I am going to the Petronas Towers and will be in search of a rendang or mutton curry for dinner!
The farewells have been said and I decided to go to the airport on my own despite several people wanting to come and see me off. Leaving Phnom Penh was very sad but I am sure I will be back there as soon as is possible. Farewells are never easy and I was surprised how attached I had become to the city and its wonderful people.
The flight to KL was short and sweet but bumpy most of the way. A bus to KL Sentral, then a mono rail ride and a short walk got me to the Matahari hostel/hotel by about 9.30.p.m. The room is basic but very clean and safe and the Singaporean staff are extremely helpful. It is very hot and humid here, about 30c at midnight, much hotter than Phnom Penh, and no cooling breeze either! I had a wander around Chinatown which is only 5 minutes walk from here and had some fried rice with duck washed down with a Tiger beer. Maybe I had got used to the poverty of Cambodia because here seemed so affluent, clean and almost sanitised compared to Phnom Penh; to be honest I didn,t really enjoy the couple of hours in Chinatown and I felt a little bit uneasy walking home later on. Cambodian withdrawal symptoms maybe. I went into a bar for a nightcap and it was full of tourists drinking very expensive Carlsberg lager, about £4 a pint, so I did an about turn, came back here and sat on the roof garden with a couple from Italy for an hour or so.
I have booked a ticket to go to Kuala Kangsar on Thursday where I hope to track down Shah who I stayed with in 1980. I am quite excited at the prospect of returning there after 28 years and have managed to book a room at the Rumah Rehat ( government rest house ) where I stayed all those years ago. Later today when it cools down a bit I am going to the Petronas Towers and will be in search of a rendang or mutton curry for dinner!
Saturday 10 January 2009
FAREWELL TO PHNOM PENH
The end of the night was a fond farewell to the Golden Vine girls
The band from the Phillippines at the Riverside Bistro; Saturday 10th January
I leave on Monday 12th for KL and so on Saturday night I visited a few places to say my farewells. The next three pictures are some of the staff at Howie's Bar, which was the place I came to on my first night here.
Of course I had to come here and Mr. Jun was still spinning the vinyl until the early hours
The Dara Reang Sey Hotel; my home for the last month
One of the many tuk-tuk men outside my hotel
The riverside traffic on a quiet day!
Sreivon drinking coconut juice
Coconut vendor down by the river
Tuk-tuk man has a kip!
The band from the Phillippines at the Riverside Bistro; Saturday 10th January
I leave on Monday 12th for KL and so on Saturday night I visited a few places to say my farewells. The next three pictures are some of the staff at Howie's Bar, which was the place I came to on my first night here.
Of course I had to come here and Mr. Jun was still spinning the vinyl until the early hours
The Dara Reang Sey Hotel; my home for the last month
One of the many tuk-tuk men outside my hotel
The riverside traffic on a quiet day!
Sreivon drinking coconut juice
Coconut vendor down by the river
Tuk-tuk man has a kip!
Friday 9 January 2009
BUREAUCRACY, BEGGARS, DAWN AND ANOTHER NIGHT TO REMEMBER!
The face of many a building in Phnom Penh; untouched and in a state of disrepair since the evacuation of the city in 1975.
Dawn breaks over the Mekong and fishermen start their days work
I am back after being wiped out by a fever for the best part of a week! Problems with my business visa and work permit, not to mention the incredibly frustrating Cambodian bureacracy, have made me decide to return to Kuala Lumpur and from there travel to Kuala Kangsar, in the hope of tracking down Shah, who I stayed with in 1980.
Cambodia is in effect, still a very country in many ways. It is only thirty years since the demise of the Khmer Rouge and as such the country seems to lack 'correct' procedures to guide anyone who wishes to stay here for a prolonged period. Corruption is rife at every level and as in so many Asian countries, the divide between the rich and poor is vast. Money will buy anything and even after being charged double the going rate for various services, officials will still expect a $5 or $10 'tip' for the privilege of ripping you off. I have seen this all too often and it never ceases to amaze me that a country so rich in its ancient traditions and cultures is trying to run before it can walk. You will find waldorf salad on a menu but to get two meals served at the same time is an impossibility!
Dual pricing for foreigners and locals is common, as it is in Vietnam and Laos, but here in Cambodia it really annoys me because I consider the Khmers to be cutting off the hand that feeds them. Well, who can blame them, I hear you all say. It is understandable to a degree I suppose. Given the history, which by now I am sure you are all familiar with, and the lack of comprehensive education, which leaves many people illiterate and innumerate, it is hardly surprising that the Khmers see the tourist as easy meat. As I am writing this, sat outside the Reang Sey hotel, I have been approached six times in 30 minutes, by women clutching babies, clasping their hands together, begging for money to feed themselves. I had read much about the beggars in Phnom Penh before I came here and now I find it all a bit tiresome. It is of course a moral dilemma but it is very difficult not to become a little cynical about the whole thing.
For example, on the river front where most of the tourists congregate to have their fried breakfasts and roast dinners, you will find women sat on the pavement with their very young children lying on a blanket beside them. You literally have to step over them to move along the pavement and I can't help thinking that if they are in genuine need then there are certainly better places than this to have their young children sleep. The exhaust fumes alone are choking and the dust thrown up by the ubiquitous SUV's only adds to the pollution. They are of course opportunists, and they see the dollar rich tourist as an easy target I suppose. Incidentally, you never see a Khmer give any money to these people.
I have sat outside the Riverside bistro on a couple of occasions and been confronted by the same boy pushing a limbless man in a wheelchair, up to six times within an hour. I stopped sitting outside because I found it too uncomfortable to deal with. I choose to give to none of these people but instead I often buy two street kids a sandwich or some rice and meat, which by the way they scoff it, you can see they are genuinely hungry. What is the answer to all this? I have no idea, but I can't help thinking that some of the money used to buy those grotesque 4WD Landcruisers with their claxon like horns, could be better spent by the powers that be, in some form of social help for the genuine homeless and starving. OK, enough of me ranting!
January 7th was the thirty year anniversary of the end of the rule of Pol Pot. I went to a huge square near the Independence Monument where there was a few thousand people enjoying music, having picnics, playing badminton and generally chilling out. The simple things always seem to bring out the most enjoyment in the Khmers and I sat down on the grass and watched some kids playing 'keepy uppy', or whatever the Cambodian equivalent is. The ball they used was made of rattan, a sort of bamboo like woven sphere. I had seen kids play this in Malaysia and they are pretty damn good at it. The ball rolled over towards me and I was encouraged to join in! They play barefoot of course, so it was off with the sandals and time to display my Charltonesque silky skills from years ago! It was a great laugh, albeit I got into a bit of a scrape after volleying the ball into the back of the head of an armed soldier. This was one of those moments when you realise the frailties of being in a distant land and not speaking the language. He was pissed off to say the least, probably, because now, a large crowd had gathered to watch us and most of them were laughing at the fact that I had almost knocked this guys beret off his head! He gesticulated and shouted at me for a while and at one point I thought he was actually going to arrest me. Afterwards I sat down with the kids and they shared some mango with me. I thought then, how strange that on the anniversary of the liberation of the country from the horrors of Pol Pot, that anyone could get so upset abput a simple accident. I looked at him and judged his age to be around 55 and suddenly realised that it was very probable that he fought with the Khmer Rouge!!
After bidding my farewells to the footy kids I wandered aimlessly down a sidestreet and had the most amazing stroke of luck. I stopped outside of what appeared to be an art gallery. Through the metal fence I could see and hear an English voice talking to a reporter about photography. As I listened for a few moments I realised with much excitement that the man being interviewed was the world famous war photographer, Tim Page!!! I was at the Meta House Arts Centre and Tim Page was showing his work and giving a talk that very night.
Tim Page is an award winning English photographer who has captured some of the most iconic images of our time. From 1965-1969 he photographed the war in Vietnam, having over sixty pages of his pictures published in Time Magazine. He was wounded in action three times, the last time almost fatally. I have read two of his books; Tim Page's Nam, 1983, and Page after Page, Memoirs of a War Torn Photographer, 1988. His talk was wonderful, his photo exhibition, harrowing but incredible and I got to meet him and ask him a few questions myself.
In the 1970's Page worked as a freelance photographer for music magazines like Crawdaddy and Rolling Stone. During his recovery from a shrapnel wound to the head, in the Spring of 1970, Page learnt of the capture of his best friend and room-mate and photo-journalist, Sean Flynn ( son of the famous Hollywood actor Errol Flynn ) in Cambodia. Throughout the 1970's and 80's he tried to discover the fate and final resting place of his friend and wanted to erect a memorial to all those in the media who were killed or went missing in the war. This led him to found the Indochina Media Memorial Foundation and was the genesis of his book Requiem. His quest for a resolution of the mystery of Flynn's fate came to an end in 1990 following the discovery of what appeared to be the grave of Flynn and his colleague Dana Stone in the Cambodian village of Bei Met. Forensic examination suggested that both had a violent death.
It was such a pleasure for me to meet this man and his stories and photographs are sure to remain with me for a very long time. What a night!!!!
Dawn breaks over the Mekong and fishermen start their days work
I am back after being wiped out by a fever for the best part of a week! Problems with my business visa and work permit, not to mention the incredibly frustrating Cambodian bureacracy, have made me decide to return to Kuala Lumpur and from there travel to Kuala Kangsar, in the hope of tracking down Shah, who I stayed with in 1980.
Cambodia is in effect, still a very country in many ways. It is only thirty years since the demise of the Khmer Rouge and as such the country seems to lack 'correct' procedures to guide anyone who wishes to stay here for a prolonged period. Corruption is rife at every level and as in so many Asian countries, the divide between the rich and poor is vast. Money will buy anything and even after being charged double the going rate for various services, officials will still expect a $5 or $10 'tip' for the privilege of ripping you off. I have seen this all too often and it never ceases to amaze me that a country so rich in its ancient traditions and cultures is trying to run before it can walk. You will find waldorf salad on a menu but to get two meals served at the same time is an impossibility!
Dual pricing for foreigners and locals is common, as it is in Vietnam and Laos, but here in Cambodia it really annoys me because I consider the Khmers to be cutting off the hand that feeds them. Well, who can blame them, I hear you all say. It is understandable to a degree I suppose. Given the history, which by now I am sure you are all familiar with, and the lack of comprehensive education, which leaves many people illiterate and innumerate, it is hardly surprising that the Khmers see the tourist as easy meat. As I am writing this, sat outside the Reang Sey hotel, I have been approached six times in 30 minutes, by women clutching babies, clasping their hands together, begging for money to feed themselves. I had read much about the beggars in Phnom Penh before I came here and now I find it all a bit tiresome. It is of course a moral dilemma but it is very difficult not to become a little cynical about the whole thing.
For example, on the river front where most of the tourists congregate to have their fried breakfasts and roast dinners, you will find women sat on the pavement with their very young children lying on a blanket beside them. You literally have to step over them to move along the pavement and I can't help thinking that if they are in genuine need then there are certainly better places than this to have their young children sleep. The exhaust fumes alone are choking and the dust thrown up by the ubiquitous SUV's only adds to the pollution. They are of course opportunists, and they see the dollar rich tourist as an easy target I suppose. Incidentally, you never see a Khmer give any money to these people.
I have sat outside the Riverside bistro on a couple of occasions and been confronted by the same boy pushing a limbless man in a wheelchair, up to six times within an hour. I stopped sitting outside because I found it too uncomfortable to deal with. I choose to give to none of these people but instead I often buy two street kids a sandwich or some rice and meat, which by the way they scoff it, you can see they are genuinely hungry. What is the answer to all this? I have no idea, but I can't help thinking that some of the money used to buy those grotesque 4WD Landcruisers with their claxon like horns, could be better spent by the powers that be, in some form of social help for the genuine homeless and starving. OK, enough of me ranting!
January 7th was the thirty year anniversary of the end of the rule of Pol Pot. I went to a huge square near the Independence Monument where there was a few thousand people enjoying music, having picnics, playing badminton and generally chilling out. The simple things always seem to bring out the most enjoyment in the Khmers and I sat down on the grass and watched some kids playing 'keepy uppy', or whatever the Cambodian equivalent is. The ball they used was made of rattan, a sort of bamboo like woven sphere. I had seen kids play this in Malaysia and they are pretty damn good at it. The ball rolled over towards me and I was encouraged to join in! They play barefoot of course, so it was off with the sandals and time to display my Charltonesque silky skills from years ago! It was a great laugh, albeit I got into a bit of a scrape after volleying the ball into the back of the head of an armed soldier. This was one of those moments when you realise the frailties of being in a distant land and not speaking the language. He was pissed off to say the least, probably, because now, a large crowd had gathered to watch us and most of them were laughing at the fact that I had almost knocked this guys beret off his head! He gesticulated and shouted at me for a while and at one point I thought he was actually going to arrest me. Afterwards I sat down with the kids and they shared some mango with me. I thought then, how strange that on the anniversary of the liberation of the country from the horrors of Pol Pot, that anyone could get so upset abput a simple accident. I looked at him and judged his age to be around 55 and suddenly realised that it was very probable that he fought with the Khmer Rouge!!
After bidding my farewells to the footy kids I wandered aimlessly down a sidestreet and had the most amazing stroke of luck. I stopped outside of what appeared to be an art gallery. Through the metal fence I could see and hear an English voice talking to a reporter about photography. As I listened for a few moments I realised with much excitement that the man being interviewed was the world famous war photographer, Tim Page!!! I was at the Meta House Arts Centre and Tim Page was showing his work and giving a talk that very night.
Tim Page is an award winning English photographer who has captured some of the most iconic images of our time. From 1965-1969 he photographed the war in Vietnam, having over sixty pages of his pictures published in Time Magazine. He was wounded in action three times, the last time almost fatally. I have read two of his books; Tim Page's Nam, 1983, and Page after Page, Memoirs of a War Torn Photographer, 1988. His talk was wonderful, his photo exhibition, harrowing but incredible and I got to meet him and ask him a few questions myself.
In the 1970's Page worked as a freelance photographer for music magazines like Crawdaddy and Rolling Stone. During his recovery from a shrapnel wound to the head, in the Spring of 1970, Page learnt of the capture of his best friend and room-mate and photo-journalist, Sean Flynn ( son of the famous Hollywood actor Errol Flynn ) in Cambodia. Throughout the 1970's and 80's he tried to discover the fate and final resting place of his friend and wanted to erect a memorial to all those in the media who were killed or went missing in the war. This led him to found the Indochina Media Memorial Foundation and was the genesis of his book Requiem. His quest for a resolution of the mystery of Flynn's fate came to an end in 1990 following the discovery of what appeared to be the grave of Flynn and his colleague Dana Stone in the Cambodian village of Bei Met. Forensic examination suggested that both had a violent death.
It was such a pleasure for me to meet this man and his stories and photographs are sure to remain with me for a very long time. What a night!!!!
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