Hue

I was thinking about the shortness of some of my posts on Vietnam. So far it is up there with Laos as my favourite place in South East Asia and yet I’ve not written to the length of other places. I can think of a number of reasons for it but eventually settled on the fact that the so called ‘escalator’ approach to tourism means that it is harder to have those sporadic experiences that I have had in other countries. It was with this in mind that I headed to Hue and as it would happen, doing things a little bit different brought their rewards as I managed to become the definition of the worst Wedding guest of all time and amazingly not offend anyone!


It all started on the second day. Hue has a number of tombs spread around the countryside. They’re large affairs with some lovely buildings, sweeping lakes and an interesting history to match. It’s a very Asian affair. Most people either hire a boat or join a boat tour down the so called perfume river. I felt the tours all seemed a bit rushed so decided to rent a bicycle and do it myself. I set off around nine o’clock, where I was quickly joined by a mother on her scooter who insisted on crawling along with me for a chat. Unfortunately after a while she left me and I got lost. My main downfall was not the map I was using but rather signposts. Vietnam does not do sign posts to tourist attractions. But here they did. They were useless and after cycling up and down a hill too many times I was about to give up. It was then that I bumped into David from the Czech Republic who was the exact replica of me in terms of sweat and tiredness. Oh and he was also lost and had been for longer than me! The one saving grace was that we had stopped next to a path that led to a rather spectacular view over the river and mountains in the distance.
We retreated back down the hill where if luck would have it a couple on a scooter pulled up and pointed us in the correct direction. Tu Doc tomb was nice enough, a little gothic with plenty of ‘modest’ Asian architecture. Its size is what was most striking, when I think of a tomb I think of a bit of stone in the ground. With various buildings there were houses, temples, ritual areas, and rather wonderfully a small island that the owner used to keep elephants and tigers on for hunting. The island was tiny, a bit unfair I felt.



Leaving the tomb behind us we headed on up the road. It was there that we came across a wedding party. Pausing to look from a distance we were very quickly accosted and sat at the front table as party guests took it in turns to try their hand at karaoke. They fed us, and in true Asian style poured and poured beer into our glasses. Just like at the ‘rocket festival planning session’ in Laos, you don’t sip it, when someone chinks your glass, you down it with them. This is no good at midday. Now Vietnamese people get a very bad rep from travelers. “Vietnam is lovely” so many proclaim but then they add “except for the people.” So far I have found exactly the opposite (and touch wood this continues) and there can be no greater advertisement for this then that hour spent with a hundred or so Vietnamese guests. David and I sat there, coated in sweat, out of breath, dirty, in t-shirts and shorts and they couldn’t have been more kind. Everyone was smiling and waving, so many came up to speak to us and toast their drinks. The wife and groom had their photos taken with us on their request and we appeared on the official wedding video. As we made our excuses the wife’s sister translated for her parents who apparently couldn’t be happier that we had come and spent some time with them. It was a wonderful cultural exchange.

From there we carried on through stunning countryside, up way to many hills before reaching Ming Mang. It is the better of the tombs in my book being a bit grander, but by this point I was really feeling the heat so didn’t get as much out of it as I would have liked. Another hour or so back and I collapsed in a heap. Seven or so hours on the bike, it supports what I have said before that cycling or motor biking is such a great way to get out and see these countries.

Outside of the tombs, Hue has a citadel, which if I must be perfectly honest was a little disappointing. It was of course at a huge disadvantage as the citadels of Bundi, Jodhpur and Jaisalmer are just everything that you would imagine of a fortress. So one hidden within the city didn’t have the same romanticism for me. It was nice enough for an hour but was nothing to write home about.

I enjoyed Hue as I have enjoyed everywhere in Vietnam so far. Next up twelve hours on a bus and Ninh Binh.

Hoi An

Nobody dislikes Hoi An, so it was with slight trepidation that I got off the bus and booked myself into a three night stay. I’ve not had the best record of going to places which everyone loves.

Hoi An was an international trading port dating back to the seventeenth century. A World Heritage Site, it’s loosely the same as it was hundred and fifty years ago. The old town is awash with colourful quaint buildings, narrow lanes and plenty of atmosphere. A river runs through the heart of the old town, taking boats out to the ocean. It’s a strange place because on the one hand it has admirably staved off touristic development and kept everything, as much as possible, as it once was. That said however, being one of the most popular stops in Vietnam, has meant that every single building in the old town has something to sell to the tourist. From a distance the living museum lives on, close up, you need a bit more of an imagination. For four or so dollars you can get an all inclusive ticket to five attractions. Some of the temples are nice, the museums however looked awful, and the Japanese Covered Bridge is all a bit uninspiring. All in all I had mixed feelings about my investment!



On the second day I took a bicycle out to An Bang beach. The beach itself is picturesque, very under developed. Unfortunately the clouds rolled in, thunder roared and my Asian beach was turned into a Scottish beach in winter. The swimming shorts were put to waste as the waves rolled in and everything was a little bleak. On a nice sunny day I guess it would be great!



I was up at five in the morning on my final day and heading to the World Heritage Site of My Son. Older than the temples of Angkor it dates back to the fourth century. Being there so early meant that other than a few other people on my mini bus there was no one else around the ruins. As for the remains themselves well there were none that made me go wow in amazement but the setting in amongst the trees with mountains as their backdrop was beautiful. Come the evening I bumped into a couple from the tour, Jason and Sally. I mention this firstly because my total cost for a night out in Hoi An was one dollar. I kid you not, beer comes in at 4,000 dong or fifteen pence. I also mention it because one of the things I enjoy most about traveling is meeting people from different nations and occupations. Well Jason had been a professional boxer before encountering an injury! Obviously as a sports fanatic that interested me greatly!



Hoi An was rather nice. It’s the sort of place that people of any age would enjoy. I left it for a short four or so hour trip to Hue. My bus was a sleeper bus, which was strange considering I was traveling during the day. No way was I going to question it though because it meant I could enjoy the stunning views whilst lying horizontal! Not long after we started we pulled into a car park and was told the bus was stopping for a half an hour. Climbing out I realised that we had stopped at the Marble Mountains. Normally I would be one of the many who mull around the bus, a little hesitant to venture further afield in case it leaves. The sight of caves to explore though had me waving goodbye to the bag and sprinting around as much as I could see in the time. I loved every second of it. The caves were huge and contained lots of Buddhist and Hindu statues, either lit up by the tasteful colourful lights or the more dubious fairy lights. No matter it was just superb there and for anyone reading this who will be traveling on a bus to Hue, get on one that stops at the marble mountains it is wonderful. For the rest of the journey I couldn’t help but remember Darren's words who I had met previously in Laos. A guy from Newcastle he makes a living out of singing cover songs in the voice of Tom Waits. He had described Vietnam to me as ‘outstandingly beautiful.’ he’s not wrong.

Nah Trang

Five star resorts for the rich and famous, and plenty of cheapies for the rest of us. Nah Trang was not the day light robbery that I had expected. I also didn’t expect to say that the development has been tastefully done. The hotels are all away from the beach and built not to the exclusion of local life. All in all it’s quite nice in Nah Trang.

You come to Nah Trang for the beach and it’s a good beach. Clean and sandy it fulfilled my criteria. The warm waters with no jellyfish in sight capped it all off. In the distance several islands and mountain peeks create a rather dramatic view to look at when peering up from my book. Low season I guess helped with the peace and quiet as there were less hawkers. In the evening there was a good variety of bars on offer, which made for an enjoyable few beers.

As much as I enjoyed it I only stayed for one night. I’ve realised that my longetivity at a beach is very much dependant on accommodation i.e. beach huts! It’s never quite the same waking up in the morning and having to cross several roads before reaching the beach. I’m a purist. I want to open my door, walk down three steps maximum before putting my feet on the sand. I guess I’ll probably be waiting for Indonesia for a chance of that happening again!

Dalat

“You’ve here for how long?” I asked surprised.

“Ten days. I’m leaving in a couple of days.” replied the Swiss national.

Why had he been in Dalat so long? Well it’s too hot at sea level so he had decided that he would make his home one thousand five hundred meters up instead. This is sort of rational thinking except that I couldn’t help but feel he might have exhausted the available sites by now. Dalat is a more acceptable climate than the steaming Vietnamese plains but there isn’t a huge amount to do. The old French hill station doesn’t offer an awful lot. The best parts are reserved in the surrounding countryside and there is no shortage in men on bikes wanting to take you to see them.

These men differ from the normal moto drivers. After the Vietnam war, a number of Southern veterans teamed together and set up a motocycle club called ‘the easy riders’. Wearing blue jackets they see themselves not as a mere vehicle around the area but as experienced guides taking you to places you would not possibly find without the help of them. I met Lan in a café and agreed on a day tour with him. He spoke impeccable English having received a degree in tourism and had been touring around the local countryside and indeed further afield for the past ten years.

The bike was considerably bigger than I had been on before, which provided the initial problem of just how I was supposed to climb onto the back. Successful, helmet on (a rarity in Asia) we drove out of the town and into the mountains. As Lan took care of the driving I had plenty of time to enjoy the surrounding scenery as the cold wind blew onto my face. It was all rather beautiful as farmers tended their crops and local villages and minority groups went about their everyday lives.



Over the course of the day Lan crammed plenty in. We visited a silk factory, a flower farm, a coffee plantation (Vietnamese coffee is the best I have ever had…Fact!), a tea plantation, a number of pagodas, statues, view points and finally a waterfall before breaking for lunch. After a set meal that easily defeated my appetite, and a glass of rice wine, flavoured with dead snakes and geckos, we were back on the road again taking in a rice wine factory and the so called crazy house, which whilst crazy fell slightly short of my expectations. All in all it was a great way to get out and see the surrounding area. It is becoming increasingly popular to go further afield and join your guide for many days across the highlands. Personally whilst tempting, I do think that the price is whilst great for what you get for a day tour, steep to say the least for longer!

Through bad/wonderful planning I couldn’t get a bus directly to Hoi An without going on an epic trip via Vietnams premier beach resort, Nah Trang. With that in mind I planned an unexpected day stop back in the sauna, at the beach.

Mui Ne

Mui Ne, the good, the bad and the ugly.

Let’s get the latter out of the way first. Mui Ne has sold out to tourism on a big scale. With around ten kilometers of resorts lining the water’s edge it was never going to win my heart in the way it does for some. The one saving grace is that Mui Ne town seems to carry on quite happily in isolation to the terribly overdeveloped tourist strip. Look at maps of Mui Ne and they show sand stretching all along the coast. In reality most of the resorts back onto a concrete flood barrier. I could make out the beach in the distance, but considering just how far the area stretches, it was going to take quite an effort to get to those few meters of white sand.

The ugly was not a surprise, I was well prepared for the tourist development. The bad however was less expected and in many ways contradicts my general hopes for each place I visit. I thought when I was in Saigon that there were not a lot of tourists. Well in Mui Ne, there didn’t seem to be anyone at all! Due to the extent of the development, any travelers there were seemed to be occupying a resort or guest house to themselves, which created a very isolated and largely ghost town feel to the place. Low numbers is not a problem at all in my book, it normally creates a nice community atmosphere, however dare I say it, Mui Ne is the exception to the rule. It needs people! There is a chance they may have been up the other end of the strip, but that might as well be another town! I was apparently staying opposite Mui Ne's most happening bar 2010/11, when I was there it seemed to be just me and the tumbleweed.

Now for the good, and it is a very good, good. Mui Ne has some rather wonderful sand dunes. I thought the ones I saw in Jaisalmer were great, but here, well blind fold me, gag me, then when releasing me tell me I was in the Sahara Desert and I’d believe it. Traipsing up and down the dunes, admiring the view out to the ocean, made the journey to Mui Ne worthwhile.

That was my snapshot on Mui Ne. I didn’t stay long, the absence of people and the overdevelopment was depressing. Still it is a must see in terms of those rather wonderful sand dunes.

Saigon

The crossing into Vietnam was how border crossings should be. Get on a bus, get off at the border, smile at the Cambodian official, get back on the bus, get off at the Vietnamese side, smile at the official, walk through a metal detector, get back on the bus and continue to Ho Chi Minh City. No hassle, no extra money, perfect.
There are certain images that are more striking than others when you think about a country. The one in Vietnam will surely be the sea of bikes that I witnessed engulfing the bus and all around it as the traffic lights changed colour. It was a swarm, a plague of colour and chaos. It was wonderful. Wiki travel talked about the biggest problem of arriving in Saigon is not where the bus drops you but that you then have to race for your accommodation against the other forty or so on the bus. No such problem here, only another three tourists were on it. It’s the low season in Vietnam, which I had assumed did not really exist, but Saigon was far quieter on the tourist front that I had envisaged.

Saigon is all a bit chaotic. It trumped Phnom Penh easily and was far more reminiscent of Delhi and Mumbai in terms of traffic volume. Crossing the roads was both entertaining and yet just a tad dangerous. My personal best was eight lanes with my heart in my mouth. Just like Phnom Penh, it is a hive of activity with plenty of green and communal areas.



On the first day I went to the reunification palace, the old home for the anti Communist South Vietnamese government. It was the place that marked the end of the war as the North’s tanks crashed through the gates. The palace itself is not that interesting. I guess it’s not as grand as I was expecting which is not all that surprising considering it was bombed in 1962 and had to be rebuilt. Inside you see the presidential office as well as the war room and communication room full of gigantic archaic machines that they used to communicate with the USA. It was nice to see, and the free guide was especially useful in gaining a more detailed understanding.

In the afternoon I went to the War Remnants Museum, a building that distresses many and leads to a fair bit of criticism as to its propagandist tone. It’s hard to argue with either. Some people were visible upset as the imagery has not been filtered. Three images stand out in my memory. One of three American soldiers stood next to a series of bodies that they are supposed to have beheaded. Another is of one American holding the head and neck of a Vietnamese local, whilst another holds the legs to the camera. The body was apparently blown to smithereens by a grenade. The last is a tank full of deformed baby fetuses, claimed to be the result of chemical weapons used by America. There are hundreds of images which can rival any of those though. Walking around, I was struck with my responses to what I was seeing compared to what I saw in Phonsovan, Laos. There I had been shocked and I suppose angry at what America had done to that country. Yet as I walked around the War Remnants Museum I had a totally different reaction. It wasn’t one of America were evil, it was one of what evil, war can make a person carry out. I felt terribly sorry for everyone in the pictures, both the victims and strangely in many cases the perpetrators. On thinking about the reasons for my different reactions I think it is because in Laos, the blame is clearly pointed at the American governments at the time who kept the war secret and hid it even from the very bombers who were responsible for so much suffering on the ground. The War Remnants Museum however targets the men on the ground and strangely, for me it did not produce the effect that I guess the government would have hoped it to have. Rather the museum is an essential collection of images and artifacts that illustrate the horrendous consequences of going to war.



The following day I joined a tour and went to Cao Dai, the main temple of Caodaiism. I can’t say I understood a lot about the religion, but it is the third most popular in Vietnam and supposedly combines features from Buddhism, Christianity, Hinduism, Islam and Judaism, as well as other religions too. The exterior and interior are beautiful, creating a very Alice in Wonderland feel to the place. It’s bright, it’s a little psychedelic and one of the more impressive temples I have seen on this trip. The followers pray four times a day and one of which fell within the time we were in the temple. You go upstairs where you can look down as people dressed in cult esq gowns enter to pray. Most are dressed completely in white, others in yellow, blue and red. It’s quite interesting and a very striking site although the fact that you are joined up top by a hundred or so other tourists from various tours takes the edge off the experience a little!



In the afternoon we visited the Chi Chi tunnels. In total they spread for some two hundred kilometers and allowed the Viet Kong fighters to move secretly around South Vietnam and attack with surprise. It was a great little trip, where we were shown the deadly traps used to kill American fighters as well as the entrances to the tunnels that the fighters had to fit through. By far the highlight was getting to travel four hundred meters through one of the five star tunnels! Our guide labeled it as a five star tunnel as it was dimly lit, rather than pitch black, and was cleaned daily for snakes and spiders. I had been a little concerned how our guide was going to fit in these incredibly narrow and tiny tunnels and so was relieved when he handed over duty to a smaller and more agile man to lead us, whilst he would meet us at the other end! It was quite an experience as for the ten or so minutes we spent traveling through the tunnels, it was unbearable hot and the space could not get much smaller. My back, thighs and calf muscles hurt a lot when I got out. To imagine spending all day underground and travelling great distance is almost impossible.

All in all it was a thoroughly enjoyable tour for a very cheap price. I get the feeling this will become a feature of my time in Vietnam. Independent travel does not seem so big here, rather in terms of finances and ease tours are the way to do things. Our tour guide was especially entertaining, if not so informative, reciting a number of well practiced jokes to entertain everyone. My favourite one was his justification as to why Vietnam was the best place to be a Buddhist. The reason for it was that if you happened to be bad in a previous life and became an insect or an animal, you wouldn’t have to wait long to be reincarnated and have another crack at life, as you would quickly be eaten no matter what you were. Quite sound reasoning I thought.

Saigon/Ho Chi Minh City was a great couple of days. Next I headed to the ‘beach’ and many peoples favourite spots in Vietnam, Mui Ne.

Phnom Penh

Phnom Penh is the best city that I have visited on this trip. I had a good feeling about the place from the moment I arrived. I passed a man weaving his way through the traffic carrying a cart full of goods by hand as he dodged the motorized traffic. Two empty cans dropped from the back of his cart and onto the floor. Rather than carrying on, he stopped, picked them up and placed them in the bin before continuing on his way. Phnom Penh is the busiest city I have been to since Mumbai. However despite this it is wonderfully clean and green, with tons of trees and plants. Hand drawn carts make their way past, tons of busses, thousands of cars, millions of bikes, and what feels like billions of tuk tuks and motos, all whilst amputees clamber for money and children attempt to sell junk to anyone who looks remotely western. Yet strangely, despite the traffic, it’s actually a quiet city. Across the Indian subcontinent I always said that you had to appreciate the moments of quiet and solitude amongst nature because the towns and cities were so overbearing on the noise front. Phnom Penh however showed that it is possible to have a busy city without the horns and shouting! In amongst the fast pace are numerous communal areas, where groups of people are united in dance and exercise, theatre groups perform and families enjoy each others company. Along the waterfront are lots of tasteful bars and restaurants catering for any culinary interests and delivering excellent food and cheap bear. All in all, the atmosphere goes from the frantic to the relaxed, it’s utterly compelling and never boring.



Outside of the joy of just wondering around it also has a few keynote sites. Firstly there is the Royal Palace. If you read my post on Bangkok, you’d hopefully have got the impression that I really liked their palace. Well the one in Phnom Penh is every bit as impressive. The main difference is that it’s very green with lots of trees and bushes surrounding the various traditional Khmer buildings and pagodas. It’s a sanctuary away from the madness around it. Very grand and very Asian, its numerous buildings have appeared on many postcards and adverts attempting to show traditional Asia.



The other main site is split into two and neither are the sort of places you would describe as being particularly nice! The first is the S21 museum. Contained within the old prison it used to house political prisoners during the Khmer Rouge reign. Around twenty thousand people were kept here in horrific conditions and tortured beyond comprehension, only seven people survived. It’s low on information but prefers to use pictures to tell the story of what happened. As you walk from cell to cell you pass photos of the prisoners. Looking at their faces, many are defiant, some look heartbreakingly scared, the memory that everyone on these boards died at the hands of their fellow nationals is incredibly moving. By far the most interesting room was the one designated to some short quotes from a number of people who at the time were in their teenage years and supported the Khmer Rouge. From fighters, to the torture guards their quotes are at times filled with regret, others bringing memories of the Nuremburg Trials in Nazi Germany in that they were just following orders. As you leave the building you can’t help but wonder whether the desire to survive is alone capable of leading many normal individuals, both men and women to take part in the brutal killing of anywhere up to three million people.

The second site is a little bit of town, the killing fields. It’s another very poignant place. In the center is a huge memorial filled with thousands of human skulls and bones reaching up to the sky. Surrounding it are numerous pits containing the remains of thousands of babies, children, teenagers and adults. After S21, people of all ages were brought and killed here, normally with an instrument to the back of the head before being tossed into the ground. There is a tree where babies and small children were swung against to kill them on the methodology that if every family member was killed, there would be no one to come back and seek revenge. Around twenty per cent of Cambodia’s population perished between the years of 1975 and 1979. The first hand accounts and pictures tell the story of one of the darkest years in human history. Leaving both of these sites I left in shock what human beings are capable to do to one another, and in the case of Cambodia so quickly.

With so much to see in the day time, Phnom Penh’s waterfront provides the perfect place to kick back and enjoy a few drinks, play some pool and share stories. It was great to meet up again with Carly and Ben and Hannah and Liz, who I’d met at various times in Laos and India. It’s kind of amusing how at times people you’ve met before either fall behind or go ahead of you and yet you meet again quite randomly. No more than Carly and Ben who I told in no uncertain terms that I wanted them to go away and stop bothering me. After finally having enough of the tuk tuk trawling me I turned around to see both of them in the passengers seats. The tuk tuk had not been scouting for business, it had been following me trying to get my attention after they had spotted me! Cue plenty of laughs, mostly because it symbolized one of the two main problems with Phnom Penh. First is the sheer amount of motos and tuk tuks. There are too many, meaning you are just continuously asked if you want one, which whilst they are not as persistent as the Indian ones, in fact they are rather smiley, is still thoroughly annoying. The other is the child workers, a lot of them coming from reasonably well off families. It’s child exploitation and frankly very dangerous for children as young as four and five to be walking around bars at ten in the evening trying to peddle various junk. The NGO’s and government need to get a serious grip on the issue.

But despite those two issues it didn’t detract from my love for Phnom Penh. If it wasn’t for the need to cross the border into Vietnam, I would have gladly stayed there for many more days.

Cycling to Kep and Kampong Trach

My return to Kampot from Bokor hill station did not mark the end of my stay there. Whilst I thought it was largely unremarkable, the accommodation was cheap and it provided a great base for getting out and exploring the local area. For the next three days I’d do just that.

I rented a bicycle for three days for a dollar each day. I didn’t have the cheek to ask for a long use discount! It was a right old rickety number, single speed, what was fondly known in my youth as a granny bike. Shaking and screeching I peddled it the thirty kilometers to Kep. Cambodia is not renowned for its road safety so it was a little discomforting getting used to the buses, lorries and far more dangerous, motorbikes carrying mattresses and other stupidly shaped objects passing me by. Fortunately there was a dirt track that ran alongside providing an escape lane when necessary. It was a lovely ride, with the road lined with paddy fields and local life.



Kep is tiny. People had told me how small it was but I hadn’t quite realised until I arrived. That said however it is rather spread out so I was relieved to be able to peddle about on my bike rather than have to walk it. Being a sea side resort it does have a beach. It’s not particularly nice, however being there on the weekend it was a joy seeing local families enjoying their day out. There aren’t many tourists in Kep which makes for a very natural feel to the place.

Kep could not have started much better when on arrival at my accommodation, I witnessed a meter (and then some!) in length snake travel under my hammock and away into the bushes. I guess it was some sort of python. It was huge and quite wonderful! In the evening I joined Bjon for what Kep is principally famous for, crab. I’ve never had any interest in taking photos of food but here I did rue not having my camera with me. For six dollars I had around six crabs, rice, a beer and a bottle of water. It was cooked in the local pepper and tasted delicious. The only issue was getting the meat out of the shell as those who have been unfortunate enough to witness me interacting with crustaceans will testify that that is not my strongest attribute! The following day I left for Kompang Trach, another thirty or so kilometers away.




Kompang Trach could be India. It’s dirty, noisy and a little chaotic. I checked into a fairly big and only guesthouse to which I was the only guest. I then walked to the cave which is the only reason to come to this town. There I was joined by a seventeen year old, future Angkor wat guide hopeful, who wanted to join me to practice his English and make a little bit of money on the side! The setting for the cave is quite spectacular being that it is built into limestone cliffs. However the actual cave is a bit of a disappointment. The inner tunnels are not very accessible and much of the interest is built around rocks that apparently a monk has decided looks like various animals. Unfortunately this meant that I spent the vast majority of my time being careful to not let my skepticism and sarcastic responses become offensive. If there was one epiphany that the monk got right it was the two random rocks he discovered. One sounded exactly like a drum, the other a gong! I couldn't quite believe my ears. A very practical finding to help the monk with his meditation!

Throughout my cave tour the boy kept saying about how he liked to rock climb but unfortunately it was too wet today. On coming out of one of the tunnels he then turned to me and said “do you want to rock climb?” How could I say no and with that he took me scrambling up the side of one of the limestone cliffs. It certainly didn’t feel as dangerous as the one done in the Lake District but this one had the added concern of every rock being insanely sharp. Remembering the three points of contact we free climbed up various parts, my favourite being the tree that had become partially attached to the cliff. Eventually we made it to the top and admired superb views of the surrounding peeks and countryside. After the initial disappointment of the caves, the climb had made everything worth it!



On returning to Kompang Trach I watched an incredible storm in the distance with lightning bolts shooting out. Cambodian storms really are spectacular. The following day I cycled over seventy kilometers back to Kampot. That included a major detour on a terrible road which I thought led to the so called secret beach. The lesson was learnt though, a secret beach is secret. I felt the journey back more than the other two days but was helped along by the wonderful sugar cane drinks that numerous ladies were selling on the roadside. It was good in India, but in Cambodia it is that much bigger and hence better!

All in all, a great few days, getting off the beaten track.

The escape from the city of ghosts + Kampot

Kampot is a small town situated on the Teuk Chhou River. A few old French colonial buildings remain but on the whole it is unremarkable. Taking a bicycle outside and visiting the rural villages was far more interesting. As I dodged the pot holes, navigated the river and sought shade under the palm trees, I was very surprised to see the amount of women wearing the hijab. I was even more surprised to then come across two small mosques. After a small amount of research my random cycling had brought me into the Muslim practicing Cham community. Just like the Khmer they were as friendly as they come. It was a very picturesque bike ride, reminding me greatly of my time spent in Kerela, although the heat was a killer.

The principle reason to come to Kampot however is to jump on a tour and head up into the Bokor National Park. 1080meters up, perched on Phnom Bokor is a French hill station established in the early 1920’s. With a hotel, church and Cambodia’s first ever casino it became the hide-away for the rich and famous. However in 1972 the Khmer Rouge infiltrated the area and its inhabitants abandoned it in fear. It then became one of the last remaining strong holds of the Khmer Rouge as they fought for survival against the Vietnamese forces. Recently the now ghost town has opened up the road to tourism (as long as the relevant officials hands are greased) and was even the setting for the film ‘City of Ghosts’ starring Matt Dillon.



I had read that it was possible to spend the night at the Bokor hill station and set about going from tour operator to tour operator attempting to sort out the best deal. Some said it was not possible, some not, others charged the earth, I eventually settled upon Orchid travels (its mention will have more relevance later). The following day I set up the mountain in a mini bus with another fifteen or so tourists. After half an hour we transferred into a rickety pick up truck at the park entrance. Not long after that we were on foot, travelling through the jungle. We were joined by a guide and a non-English speaking ranger armed with an AK47, apparently in case of a tiger attack. It was a rather beautiful walk through the primary rainforest until after a couple of hours, drenched in sweat we jumped back on the truck and headed up to the hill station. Apparently the walk is not just a nice side trip but necessary as the government deems it too risky for tourists to be on that part of the road.



The hill station is fascinating not least because of its history, but also because of its current state. Everything has been looted leaving this once place of the rich, reduced to cold, eerie bareness heightened by the bright orange lichen attached to the walls. Bullet holes are evident throughout the building, the scene of many a battle. Every step you take echoes and the wind howls. Stepping out onto the front lawn, it was unfortunate that the mist had come down because otherwise it would have revealed the view that the hotel was famous for. Looking down on the sheer drop to the trees below though reminded us of the Chinese gamblers who were known for throwing themselves off of the edge when losing too much money at the casino.



I left the group after lunch revealing that I was the only one to be staying overnight. As one English guy said to me, ‘I don’t know whether to be envious or relieved.’ I was to stay the night in an empty dorm room at the Rangers station. After a quick nap I went to the Catholic Church and looked around it. Being alone increased the creepiness ten-fold. The whole place really does make you feel incredibly uncomfortable. Escaping with the heart rate just about ok I made my way up behind it and plonked myself on a rock. The clouds had lifted revealing one of the finest views I have ever seen. A sheer drop straight down to the rainforest below which then stretched all the way out to the ocean. It was hard not to feel like a god sat surveying his lands. The most beautiful butterflies flew around as birds soared over the trees below.



Someone asked me if I believed in ghosts. My response had been I will soon find out. I guess by the fact that as the sun set and I snapped some photos, I felt an urge to run as fast as I could away from the buildings, probably meant yes. Despite the temptation to return at night with a flash light, I was quite convinced my heart would not take it. Earlier our guide had told us about the amount of people thought to have been killed in and around the hotel. Only recently have the owners changed the sign outside of the hotel from ‘do not sleep here’ to ‘danger keep out’. The original sign was in place because it is thought that only after a special religious ceremony should anyone be safe to step inside the building at night. Many of the workers around the site have claimed to have seen ghosts.

That night I had way too much food at the Rangers station as the wife first served me a huge meal and then I was invited by the only English speaking person on site to have food with him and his friends. It was quite a feed.



The following day after breakfast I received a phone call on the Rangers mobile telling me there was no tour group going up that day so they would need to send a car to pick me up. Alarm bells rang. This was prime rip off territory as the tour company devolves responsibility for me and leaves me trapped! I spent the morning admiring the views and exploring other buildings surrounding the hotel, including the old Commissariat de Police. Eventually I arrived at the meet and waited for my car. After over an hour nothing came and I started to wonder. Then in a moment worthy of Hollywood itself a car approached. It stopped. Then crawled slowly towards me. A man wound down the window and passed me a mobile phone. Without introduction I was told in simpler words that the rendez-vous had changed. I was to go back down to the Rangers Station. The car promptly drove off. Unsure who I had just spoken to I started walking. Nearing the base, I met my Phnom Penh friend from the previous night. He delivered the devastating news that I may be too late for lunch. I quickened my pace and it brought rewards as the chief Ranger and his wife offered to share the food they were eating. Initially I panicked as I noticed small eyes and legs in one of the dishes. Cambodia is famous for the eating of insects. Luckily it turned out to be miniscule shrimps. All I could think of whilst I was eating it was those days on Cornish beaches hearing how we could not go fishing today as the prawns and shrimps were too small. After eating that dish they can never be too small. With this knowledge in hand, Willy Joe will not have to go through the same disappointment.

After some discussion the wife pointed to the Rangers car and indicated I was going down in that. All well and good except that the battery had gone flat. As the chief Ranger attempted to fix it and his marriage (just like in England, the man thinks he knows best when it comes to cars and refuses to listen to the wife who thinks she understands the solution) I sat around wondering if I would ever find my way down. Eventually after jump leads and attempting to steal another man’s car battery the jeep worked and we hit the road.

As we wound down to the bottom we went along the road where tourists are not allowed. It was ok, I was with the ranger after all. I didn’t find it particularly hairy, however what was disturbing was how much deforestation has taken place to allow for the building of the new five star resort they are planning to build up top. It is quite typical of Cambodia to sell all of its land and assets in return for quick money. The destruction of such a beautiful area, home to so endangered species is shocking. Returning back the man who runs Orchid travel looked delighted and relieved by my return. It was very fortunate to have chosen him as my organiser because I have little doubt that some of the other ones I spoke to would have devolved responsibility rather than sort it themselves.

Bokor hill station will be a place that I will long remember. It was so surreal being the only tourist in what in the future Cambodia hopes will become a major destination once again for the rich. The views were spectacular and the feeling I had when walking from building to building was everything you would expect from a so called ghost town. It may not have been on the same size of Chernobyl but with all the recent history surrounding the place it certainly has a very unnerving atmosphere and a disturbing story to match.

Sihanoukville - Otres Beach

From Siem Reap I took the most comfortable night bus I have ever taken. With reclining seats and properly paved roads it made for a good nights sleep! I arrived in Sihanoukville in the early hours the following morning. Replicating Laos they had decided recently to move the bus station into the middle of nowhere, which is always difficult to comprehend at four in the morning. From there I took a moto to Otres beach, or so I thought as the driver became quite confused and I eventually had to direct him. Around eight kilometers from the town, Otres beach is a little hide away with kilometers of white sand and minimal development.

Its isolation is what makes Otres beach special. It is incredibly quiet making for a nice close knit feel to the place. The beach is lovely and the water clear and warm. The food whilst more expensive was delicious. Having not been on a beach since Sri Lanka, it was a very welcome return and made for a relaxing few days. The only downside to the place was that there was definitely something in the water! On my first swim I felt a bite on my back but thought nothing of it. The following day a Belgium guy staying next to me complained of being bitten. Chancing it I went in and came out with a sharp pain, a small amount of blood and two needles sticking out of my foot. Another time I went in and swam straight past two jellyfish. What was most striking was that they were not very see through, just large clumps of mostly black. I swam back to the safety of the shore.



Otres Beaches reputation as a relaxed and beautiful beackpackers retreat harbors a rather nasty secret however that symbolises the governments short sightedness. Only a few years ago, the local population were removed from their village by force and all the bars and restaurants along the beach were knocked down without warning. With total disregard for the inhabitants future, most were left homeless, many of which who thought that they had a lease on the land. The reason, because the government agreed to the building of a new resort from foreign owners. This is all to common across Cambodia, where quick money from abroad is being prioritised ahead of a Cambodian led future. Many of the islands carry two hundred year leases. As mentioned before in the previous post, the Angkor temples are the property of a Chinese oil firm. Currently some of the places have returned, although in smaller numbers. The local village has moved into small shacks up on the hill. With ground being marked out and prepared for the development the accepted thinking is that it is only a matter of time until Otres becomes an exclusive beach for the rich only with no concern as to the current inhabitants.

After a number of uneventful but thoroughly enjoyable days on the beach I left for the so called up and coming place in Cambodia, Kampot.