A DAY IN THE PROVINCE: SIMPLY THE BEST TIME EVER!

These five pictures are a sort of thanksgiving for the food we ate; I ended up in the middle of all this!




He wasn't too sure about me!
Another 'sister'
And another.
The party in full swing!
Atu and my host engage in some sort of symbolic 'dance' which represents the welcoming of a guest; me; and thanks their Buddha for the ability to have food to share. It was not as serious as it sounds; in fact quite comical and I only wish that I could have understood more as most of the humour seemed to be directed at me but in a good way!
Bongsrai and niece.
Her sister and husband.
Not sure who he was but he did not stop laughing for hours!
Our 'taxi' is parked under the trees in the background.
My hosts for the day; the table they are sat on is the one that all the food was served on and we all sat cross legged on it to eat. Not too comfortable for me but I managed an hour or so!
The humble abode of my 'family' for the day.
Fried snails, seared fish and a fish entrail dip(!) for starters. The jury is still out on the dip!

Each house has a smallholding where they produce crops for sale in the city; this is their only source of income. I walked along the path beside the water until I came to a warning sign that there was unexploded ordinance in the area and very carefully did an about turn! These people have a tough life but they still keep smiling!
Get her a job at Perillas! Frying the fish and God was it good.
An Aga, Cambodian stlye; bloody hot in the kitchen!
Bongsrai preparing mango which was served as an appetiser; very sour but delicious dipped in a mixture of Kampot pepper, salt and chilli oil!
Chickens, chillies and coriander.
No stainless steel work surfaces here; the Cambodians like so many Asians have the ability to sit cross legged on the floor for hours.
The next door neighbours house.
I was invited to visit the family and friends of Bongsrai, that is the sister of Atu; well sort of sister; I am not sure really who is related to who here and often I think they use the word sister or brother to mean a close friend rather than an actual blood relation. I thought that there would be three of us going but in fact it ended up as six of us in a tuk tuk travelling about an hour or so out into the country. The journey there was mainly on little more than dirt tracks going through lush vegetation, paddy fields and mangrove swamps; I wish I had brought a cushion to sit on but the splendour of the scenery soon took my mind off of the discomfort in the tuk tuk.


It seems that Sunday is the day when families get together and it reminded me of the Italian chef Antonio Carluccio. He, in one of his television series, showed how the Italians often have an all day party on a Sunday with their extended family. What I was privileged to experience yesterday was reminiscent of that.


We stopped at what looked like a wild west frontier town(village), to buy all sorts of food and of course a supply of 'My country's beer', that is Angkor lager. I was asked to go and buy some ice while the girls did the food shopping. I found a place a few hundered yards from the tuk tuk and a young boy, no older than ten, who spoke the most perfect English asked me to follow him to the back of the shop. Here there was a block of ice about the size of a large television and he started to saw it up into squares about the size of a breeze block. I bought three blocks and hurried back to the tuk tuk before they melted too much; it was a bit cooler here than the city but still in the 90's. We were loaded up beyond belief with chickens, fish, snails the size of tennis balls, snake, frogs and lots of vegetables; not forgetting three cases of the amber nectar. We arrived at the home of Bongsrai's family at ten thirty to a rapturous welcome and of course those wonderful smiles!


So, with the introductions done I am given a seat in the shade and told to relax with a beer and some of that sour mango with dip, while the women and girls start to prepare the feast. As you see in the pictures the preparation is done on the floor with little more than a meat cleaver which they are very adept at using. I wanted to watch them prepare the food which they all found very amusing as this is definately viewed as womens work here and they could not understand my interest in cooking. However I soon had them in fits of laughter when I tried to help and use the cleaver very unsuccessfully only managing to destroy a mango! A retreat to shaded 'porch' seemed in order and now some of the men had arrived and wanted to talk to me.


It was now only 11.30.a.m. and I had a feeling this was going to be another memorable day. The food was coming out from the kitchen at a rate of knots and I wondered how we were possibly going to eat it all. I have eaten some weird and wonderful things since being in Cambodia but this was eating at grass root level. We had fried snake, steamed snails, fried fish, frogs, chicken, fish entrails in a searingly hot chilli sauce, flowers from the garden, water lily stems, chickens blood, rare sea snails cooked in garlic, banana chips with sugar and the most delicious small fried anchovy like fish, cooked in a hot coconut sauce. At about 1.30.p.m. my host thought that I should have a rest and decided to erect a hammock between two trees for me to have a short sleep. I tried to say that I was fine and did not really want to rest but he was going to so much trouble that I thought I had better take up his offer. Now then, the average Cambodian does not have the same stature as me and I knew what was going to happen when I attempted to get into the hammock and yes it did; it collapsed with me in a heap on the floor and the rest of the family rolling about laughing; not to be outdone by my weight, he then produced another ' stronger' one and secured it higher up the tree. By now the neighbours are around as well and I just know that this was going to end up the same. Well, much to my surprise it holds me, albeit rather precariously about three foot above the ground, and rather than sleep I am then fed food and drink whilst being serenaded by........oh yes, the one and only Cambodian karaoke; even in the country it still has a vice like grip on these people. I am now feeling like a Roman Emperor, swinging in my hammock being attended to, like royalty. Things continue in this vain for about half an hour while the girls reorganise the table and bring more food out for the second half of the party.


Beer was running low so my host's son was sent off on a moto to get some more; he is only about ten years old and I am wondering how he is going to buy alcohol and maybe more importantly how he is going to drive the bike and carry it back. No need to worry though because the Cambodians are past masters at carrying huge loads on small bikes and as we are in the country, traffic is not a problem. I have seen five people on a moto with a television set in the centre of Phnom Penh so I am sure our boy will manage this one.


He returns ten minutes later, sat on two cases of Angkor, and almost lying flat on the bike to enable him to steer properly and of course smiling all the time. The party now starts to get a bit rowdy with some sort of singing competition between the women and men; I consider teaching them the 'Oggie' song, but events are taken out of my hands when I am asked to sit in the middle of the table and receive gifts of food from everyone present. Now I have no choice in what I am to eat so I do end up eating a little of everything I have already mentioned and try to look as if I am enjoying it, so as not to cause offence. Actually apart from the fish entrail dip, I did enjoy most of it and much more importantly my hosts, I am sure loved the fact that I joined in with no regrets.


Things continued like this until about six in the evening; we watched an amazing sunset and then it was time for the journey home. I know I am risk of waxing lyrical yet again but today I felt so humbled and honoured that such poor people could make such a fuss of me. I genuinely believe they enjoyed my company and I have been invited to the other relations house in about two weeks time. A very simple day of eating and drinking, singing, talking and certainly the highlight of my trip so far. We arrived back in the city at seven thirty; I had a shower and went to bed feeling wonderful.

BIT OF A HISTORY LESSON

Whilst I am undergoing emergency dental treatment to have a crown fitted I thought I would write a historical perspective on Cambodia to give you a better understanding of how this country has developed in a relatively short time.


Why is Cambodia the way it is today? There is a large lake in the middle of Cambodia that is actually a backwater tributary of the Mekong River. This lake is called the Tonle Sap. During the rainy season the river fills its banks and reverses flow, flooding the lake, which spills out over the land. When the rain stops and the dry season sun beats down, the lake contracts and the river flows back to the sea. This ebb and flow of water is the heartbeat of Cambodia, slow and steady, nourishing the land and providing rice and fish for its people, the Khmers.


For centuries the Khmers lived within the rhythms of sun, rain and harvest, worshipful of their God-Kings, who feuded amongst themselves and lost land to the expansionist Vietnamese and Thais. When the first Europeans arrived, Cambodia was already a shadow of its former self, the massive temples of the Angkor empire forgotten in the jungle. For a while the French half-heartedly governed Cambodia, but they were more interested in the colonial potential of Vietnam. Life among the rice fields didn't change.


Cambodia became an independent state in the 1950's, ruled by a flighty young king who spent most of his time directing films. Roads and factories were built, a small cosmopolitan elite developed and for a brief time Cambodia was an oasis of stability in a turbulent part of the world. A delegation from newly independent Singapore arrived to learn how to run a successful country. The great lake flooded, the farmers planted rice and caught fish, the sun came back out and the water flowed into the sea...and then the earth itself began to explode.


B-52 bombs fall faster than the speed of sound and give no warning to those they are about to destroy. Countless tons of American bombs were dropped indiscriminately on Cambodia, which was viewed by the White House officials as a sideshow to the Vietnam war. The attempt to keep the bombing of Cambodia secret is what led to the Watergate scandal and President Nixon's resignation.


As war spread into Cambodia the fabric of society collapsed. The King was overthrown and Vietnamese soldiers swarmed across the border. Officials in the capital lived lavishly off American aid whilst the rest of the country burned. Cambodian farmers began to support an indigenous communist movement called the Khmer Rouge, which pledged to expel foreigners, desroy the corrupt urban elite and reinstate the King. A truly vicious cycle of war developed. As the Khmer Rouge gathered strength, the bombing intensified, and each bomb created new recruits for the communist guerillas. When the Khmer Rouge took the capital in 1975, most of their soldiers were teenagers who knew nothing of life without war. Cambodia was already a bloody wasteland, but the brutality was only just beginning.


The Khmer Rouge systematically destroyed Cambodia. The country became a vast gulag work camp. Monks, teachers, doctors, intellectuals and artists were rounded up and killed. Families were seperated. Crying at night was grounds for execution. No one knows how many people died. Estimates are in the millions. Cambodias under the Khmer Rouge was simply hell on earth.


In 1979 the Vietnamese couldn't take the madness any longer and invaded Cambodia, pushing the Khmer Rouge into the mountains and up to the Thai border, where they were kept alive by well intentioned humanitarian aid. The fighting continued. Cambodians killed Vietnamese who killed Cambodians who killed Cambodians. Countless landmines were scattered throughout the forests and rice-fields. This ugly civil war lasted for a long time, until there was hardly anything left to fight over. The Khmer Rouge maintained strongholds along the Thai border until the late '90s.


Today Cambodia is ruled by a strongman named Hun Sen, a former Khmer Rouge soldier who defected to the Vietnamese side during the civil war. Hun Sen lost a democratic election sponsored by the United Nations during the '90s, but when the UN troops pulled out he and his soldierse simply ignored the results. Hun Sen continues to rule today. He and his cronies are fabulously wealthy.

LADY BOYS, NIGHT MARKETS AND MORE MADNESS!

Hello again, sorry about the delay in writing this but I have been out of sorts for a while and not feeling up to doing much. Anyway I am back in the fold now so here we go!!


Most Cambodian women are very short and of a slight build. By and large they have extremely long black hair and piercing dark brown or black eyes. Their finger nails are usually long and well manicured and most wear a moderate amount of jewelry; (No gold chains and sovereign rings here, thank Buddha!!) The smile you will already be aware of, and their overall disposition is one gentility. I have met many such people in the last five weeks and have found them most enchanting.


On the weekend evenings, just a block or two from my hotel, is the night market. Here families gather to eat at the many food stalls and browse the goods on sale. These range from Cambodian silks, clothes, watches, souvenirs and of course the ever present mobile phone booths! Last weekend I was there with a few friends and I noticed a couple of girls looking at me rather more intently than the normal inquisitive looks that most Europeans experience. There was a band playing in the middle of the market; it is a kind of open stage for up and coming acts and for once they sounded half decent. My friends; Atu, her sister and her friend seemed also to be smiling at me in a strange way and said they were going to look at some clothes. Meanwhile I continued to watch the band and couldn't help feeling that everyone was looking at me. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder and assumed it was Atu and simply put my hand on 'hers'. Well, 'her' hand did not feel quite right and I turned around to see a 5'10", short haired, short finger nailed 'lady', bedecked in jewelry and smelling like a cross between the cheapest of perfumes and harpic!! She/he smiled at me and said " You like lady boy? ".....all around me people were laughing and pointing at me and just across the way Atu and her friends were doing likewise. I explained that I did not like lady boy and moved away to seek sanctuary with my hysterical friends; I had become a sideshow to the events on the stage; well I suppose it was probably more entertaining than the cacophony of noise that was coming from the new act!!


We ate quite regularly at a late night stall near the night market and decided to go there after that incident and had my favourite dish of char grilled beef with chicken fried rice. Maybe it was because I had, for the first time worn after shave tonight, that I seemed to be attracting the wrong advances!! Bugger me if the guy running this place was not the campest person I have ever met. He took a shine to me and insisted on sitting with us while we ate. Well enough is enough and the joke was running a bit thin now so I told him in no uncertain terms that I was not interested and he duly minced off looking sorry for himself. I then thought it might be a good idea to sit between the terrible sisters and put an arm around each of them to dispel any confusion as to my sexual preferences!!! The food was great by the way!


I will have some pictures of the night market in due course and put on here. There will be NO pictures of the lady boys!!


That night an accident befell me and I ended up losing one of my front teeth! Now the thought of going to a Cambodian dentist brought me out in a massive sweat but I had to do something about it pretty quickly so the next morning I went in search of a surgery. Just down the road was a booth with a proper looking dentists chair in it and a guy in what looked like an operating gown. I went in and was told to sit in the chair until he went to get someone that spoke English; the translator was sitting at a bar opposite and I could see he and the 'dentist' were having an animated discussion about me; probably thinking how much they could make out of this. Anyway they came back and it was explained to me that a bridge was needed; it would take four weeks to complete and it would cost £390! At this point a young woman holding her baby appeared and looked into my mouth as well and started pointing and talking excitedly to the main man; who she was I have no idea and there then started a procession of people; kids; young and old. Now forgive me for my cynicism but I am convinced that these people were not dental nurses or trainees but once again the absurdity of the moment overtook my worry and I decided to get up and look elsewhere. I found what turned out to be a very good dentist and after two long sessions in the chair will have a crown fitted next Tuesday!! The madness continues!!

LED ZEPPELIN CAFE, MARKET SCENES AND THE MEKONG PICS

£5 an hour for the boat.
I thought the boat would depart when it was full but you actually get the whole thing to yourself! A cheap way to have a party afloat.
Washing the dishes.
Part of the Phnom Penh fishing fleet!
On a slow boat to China or up the Mekong!
More fruit than you can wave a stick at!
Spare ribs Cambodian style.
Monkey food!
Not sure what these fruits are called but they are delicious!
Local market produce
Zeppelin Cafe, Phnom Penh.
Zeppelin Cafe, Phnom Penh.
Mr. Jun spinning the discs at the Zeppelin Cafe.

KAMPOT; DOGS AND EX-PATS.

I had met a few people who had been to Kampot and been told that at night there were packs of dogs that roamed the streets and stood guard outside their owners property. Given my slight fear of dogs this was a bit disconcerting but to be honest I didn't really give it too much thought and wondered if these stories were somewhat exaggerated.


The road on which I was staying ran alongside the Teuk Chhou River and played host to many bars and restaurants. As far as location goes it could not get any better; as you can see in the photos, the river is a stones throw away and the sunsets are pretty spectacular. I ate in a Dutch run bar/restaurant and had my favourite dish of beef rendang with sticky coconut rice and as usual it was delicious. Talking to the Dutch girl who was the co-owner it soon became apparent that there were many ex-pats. and other Europeans who had set up business here. Many of them were married to Khmer women and had been in Cambodia for many years.


It became apparent after talking to some of these bar owners that it was quite hard to make ends meet with just one income and consequently some of them undertook a second job. Christian, a guy from Manchester, married to a Khmer lady, returned home every year for four months to do building work. Nicholas, a French guy, worked in Phnom Penh from Monday to Friday and returned at weekends to help his Khmer girlfriend, Sarina, run their bar. She was obviously upset about the fact that he would be away during the week but they really had no option. I began to realise after talking to these people that the Khmers are an incredibly resilient people and I think the reason for this, is that they , for the first time, have a chance to shape their own destiny. Cambodia, after all, had been colonized by the French; Nixon did his utmost to destroy the country with indiscriminate bombing in his 'sideshow' to the Vietnam War and Pol Pot simply tried genocide.


It is no wonder, therefore, that despite the relative hardship of having to take on two jobs and the fact that ones partner may have to work away from home for some time, that the Khmer people grasp the opportunity to control their own future, by working incredibly long arduous hours for little reward.


The main road beside the river in Kampot is poorly lit at the best of times; the sidestreets are nigh on pitch black. Welshman , Steve, runs a bar on one of these sidestreets and I was talking to him until the early hours one morning. I asked him about the dog situation and as we were talking there started the most almighty din of barking, snarling dogs just down the road from where we were. He told me that if I walked in the middle of the road, (assuming I could find the middle) and carried some rocks or stones to pretend to throw at the dogs, then all would be ok. Well thats fine if you do not already have a fear of dogs and it would also be not so bad if you were familiar with your surroundings and if it was daylight. I unfortunately did not have the luxury of any of these.


The noise outside spurred on other gangs of dogs into a frenzy of barking and running around snapping at anything and everything. Some dogs were apparently kept on leashes and could guard their owners property adequately without being let loose. I considered having another Laobeer or indeed waiting until dawn to walk home when at least I would be able to see my adversaries.


Fortune favours the brave (or stupid) and I decided to set out for home which was only ten minutes walk away. It was pitch black and I was sweating a bit to say the least. I could hear the patter of feet quite close by but the barking had subsided for a minute. Everything seemed fine, then suddenly a dog on a leash leapt towards me only to be restrained by its leash, stopping about two foot from my right shoulder. When my heartbeat had returned to normal I carried on and was almost home when I tripped over a small metal dustbin and consequently fell over right in front of one of the guard dogs and was bitten on my lower back. This started a chorus of canine howls and snarling which I remember thinking at the time was more frightening than the bite itself which was not too bad but had drawn blood.


I got home in a minute or two and then it dawned on me that despite the seven jabs I had received before I left the UK I had'nt had the rabies innoculation! I sought some advice and was strongly reccomended to get a jab as soon as possible and that meant going back to Phnom Penh! Five hours on that bus again with the dreaded karaoke and the bus did'nt leave for another three hours. The alternative was a taxi which could get me there much quicker. I weighed up the options of rabies v. karaoke/bus/taxi and decided to get a taxi straight away.


Now then, I have already talked of the wonderful Cambodian smile; it's 4.30.a.m., I'm a bit shaken up and my taxi driver, who has just been woken up, appears and he is smiling like a Cheshire cat, making woof like noises and laughing uncontrollably! I am not sure if he realises exactly what has happened but I make it as clear as I can that I need to get to a hospital in Phnom Penh as soon as possible. He continues laughing and doing his dog impressions as we depart.


As we leave Kampot I try to explain about the bus trip here, but as so often happens it is lost in translation and he seems to think that (i)I like dogs and perhaps more worrying for my sanity, (ii) That I like Cambodian karaoke. Whilst this bizarre conversation of sorts is going on, I am starting to feel pretty rough, my back is aching and it is damn hot! He is driving in a manner not disimilar to a Finnish rally driver, swerving around huge potholes, still grinning and doing his canine caricatures. I'm assuming a possible crash position because I can foresee us ending up in a paddy field at best when he tries to get a picture out of his wallet; I expect you have all done this when driving; that is, try and get your wallet out of your back pocket; it's not easy is it and especially when you are driving at speed, on little better than a dirt track!!! He gets the picture out and lo and behold it's a photo of his dog!


I know he thinks he is doing me proud and at this point I am glad he does'nt speak a English because I let out a torrent of expletives trying to get him to slow down. Unfortunately the act of me pointing at the speedo is misunderstood and he thinks that I am pointing at the CD player, and yes, you've got it the ubiquitous Cambodian karaoke comes on at a deafening volume. By now I have all but forgotten about the dog bite and simply crack up laughing with him at the hilarity of the moment. This spurs him on to greater heights and he adds his own take on an already bloody awful song! If you can imagine very bad Indian restaurant music, add a bit of wailing similar to that of an Islamic Imam calling the faithful to prayer and then as background music throw in an Eastern European national anthem and you have just about got what Cambodian karaoke is like!


We got to Phnom Penh in two hours twenty minutes instead of five hours, thankfully in one piece, and I gave the driver a generous tip, for he quite unwittingly contributed outstandingly to an experince that I shall certainly never forget.


P.S. That night I sought my revenge and had dog curry!!!

KAMPOT; THE LITTLE GARDEN BAR AND RESTAURANT

The restaurant.

Dusk from the restaurant.


So after that adventure I got a tuk tuk to the Little Garden and was looking forward to a relaxing afternoon and a chance to look around Kampot. I arrived amidst some confusion as to who I was, which given that I had been in regular email contact with Norm and Barbara, the owners, was surprising. The Khmers at the reception did not have a booking for me and at first I thought I might actually be in the wrong place! However Barbara then arrived to shed some light on the situation.


She was obviously upset about something and suggested we sit down, have a drink and she would explain what was going on. She explained to me that the Khmer owners had, as of yesterday, increased the rental of the guest house and restaurant by a ludicrous ammount which meant that they could no longer afford to rent the guest house part of the business; they would however continue to run the bar and restaurant side of things. Both her and Norm were understandably very upset about this as they had put their hearts and soul into this place for the last five years. The garden here may be small but their hearts are big supporting and launching community based projects including a drop in centre for orphans; their staff do more than just serve up international dishes.


I was'nt really sure what to do now; whether to stay here or find somewhere else to stay. I met Norm who is originally from Manchester but knew Plymouth very well and also knew many of the surfing fraternity from Cornwall; most of whom I knew from my t-shirt printing days. He was obviously pleased to talk to someone with common interests and we chatted for a few hours about all sorts; I decided to stay and had a much needed rest before going out to explore Kampot.

KAMPOT; THE BUS, CRABS AND SUNSETS TO WAX LYRICAL ABOUT.

Somebody said I would get sunset fatigue in Kampot but I don't think so.
Storm clouds gather over the Bokor mountains, Kampot.
The wonderful view from my room in Kampot.
So the farewells have been said for now and I am on the bus to Kampot, about 130kms south west from Phnom Penh. I have obviously drawn the short straw here and am sat on the wheel arch with my left leg in a position that is not disimilar to one I assumed last night! Next to me is a smiling Cambodian boy who obviously has just finished work in a crab factory, going by the smell of the black bin liner that he is holding. I say holding but to be honest it is sort of moving around on the floor by my right leg which is wedged under the seat in front of me! These buses were not made for the more portly Westerner, that's for sure!


I had read about the wonder of travelling by bus in Cambodia but given that there is virtually no rail system this was the best and cheapest option. I did think after about twenty minutes about how I was going to manage the five hour trip without getting serious cramp. Anyway to take my mind off the extreme discomfort, I had the crabs to contend with who were doing their utmost to escape the bin bag and once or twice I would have to gently push the bag away hoping I wouldn't tear a hole in it!


So, picture the scene; I have had about two hours broken sleep; it's about 32 degrees in the shade with 90% humidity; I am assuming a position the authors of the Kama Sutra would be proud of; the crabs are getting restless and the boy next to me exudes a not too pleasant smell!! Then things get worse......


I had noticed a tv screen at the front of the bus and this suddenly came on at a deafening volume playing the ubiquitous Cambodian karaoke! Just what I needed right now! Not only was the singing on the tv bloody awful but half the bus started to join in. Fish boy beside me was smiling broadly, nodding his head and saying " You like, you like ". Well obviously me no like, but what could I do other than smile and just laugh at the absurdity of it all. Meanwhile the bus driver was beeping his horn literally every thirty seconds or so at any traffic that he was approaching; this is common in Cambodia but the volume of the horn was slightly louder than the combined efforts of the tv singer and the rest of the passengers on the bus!!


Well things continued in this vain for the next two hours or so when much to my relief we stopped for twenty minutes. As we left the bus we were all surrounded by a mass of kids selling various fruits for virtually nothing. I had some mango and pineapple and tried to get my legs to function properly.


Back on the bus and three more hours to endure. Thank God the tv was turned off and I actually managed to fall asleep for a short time before being awoken by a searing pain in my right big toe...yes you have probably guessed it, I had a crab firmly attached to it much to the amusement of fish boy who just fell about laughing. After getting the bloody thing off my toe without too much damage I realised that the bag was now open and there did not appear to be any crabs in it!! They were all over the bus and there then ensued one of the funniest comedic moments I have ever seen. The crabs move quite quickly and fish boy and a few other kids were trying to round them up and put them in a sort of cold box that was supposed to be carrying refreshments for the journey. After half an hour or more most of them seemed to be in captivity again, albeit if you wanted a cold drink you had to put your hand into their new lair and risk a nip or two!!


Well this made the time go a bit quicker and we arrived in Kampot at half twelve in the afternoon. What a trip!


To be continued...........