Phnom Penh: Recovery

After a grueling day 12 hour bus ride on a bus that didn't work,

I arrived at the Phnom Penh bus station to a convenience store containing kettle chips. I do love kettle chips. A few minutes later a friendly and welcoming Spanish documentary filmmaker came along on a motorbike and took me to join him with his friends at a Cambodian BBQ restaurant. This wasn't a chance meeting. He was the couchsurfer who graciously let me stay at his apartment during my time in the city. His apartment was a welcome change to the endless strings of guesthouse. I enjoyed a morning coffee on the terrace staring out into the city that was ravaged by the Khmer Rouge and in a state of recovery. My host was fairly busy with different projects but was so kind as to show me around in the limited time that he had.

In the afternoon, I made my way to Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, also known as S-21. As you can tell from its name, it was a rather heavy afternoon. The former prison turned memorial gives you a glimpse into what occurred here. Blood still stains the floor. Rooms are lined with pictures of those who were killed both within the walls or executed in the killing fields. The pictures, headshots of the victims contained the span of human emotion, from beaten down and defeated to indignant and defiant.

In one of the buildings, the rooms are partitioned into cells. On the first floor, the partitions are cement. Visitors can walk down the aisle in the middle of the rooms and look into the different cells, entering them if you chose. On the second floor, the partitions are made of wooden walls. Visitors are given similar freedom as on the 1st floor but I couldn't bring myself to walk in. The wooden cells gave me a feeling of present evil. I stood frozen, looking at a cell and then turned and continued upstairs.

The museum had a guestbook and a small space under some stairs where people graffiti'd the walls with messages. Messages such as RIP, and "so sad" but it was the messages that said "Never again" that made me frustrated and angry. Has the writer watched the news lately? Sudan, Congo, Somalia its happening again. It's happening right now.


I left the compound and wandered the different stores. They were filled with goods and handicrafts attempting to give people a better livelihood. Cambodia, a land filled with friendly, smiling people has a long road of reconstruction ahead littered with traps of corruption and greed. I suppose that can be said for many countries. The city itself is filled with activity and it's hard to imagine it as the ghost town it became after it was evacuated by the Khmer Rouge. After returning to the apartment, my host and I shared a beer with a friend at a bar then retired to a nice, relaxing dinner and a movie. The movie: A Series of Unfortunate Events.

After another lazy morning, I headed off to Siem Reap.

Si Phan Don: Buck up, you're still on vacation.

They can't all be wonderful days, can they? From Pakse, I signed up for a tour to kayak in Si Phan Don which means Four Thousand Islands. It's a part of the Mekong river littered with little islands and broken up with waterfalls and one of the few habitats of the beluga-looking irrawaddy dolphins. The tour did not start off well, starting with a rude mini-van driver followed by a less than confident guide telling me it was his first time to do this. At some point, the scenery took care of my mood. We saw some lovely waterfalls.


My inexperienced guide had us join up with a group with a guide who actually knew where he was going. We paddled out to Cambodia, to a lookout of the irrawaddy dolphins' stomping ground. We hung out and looked and looked and nothing. Disappointed, we climbed back into our kayaks and rowed away. But in our rowing, we saw them. Small little rounded dolphin backs rolling up and out of the water. Dozens of them. We took turns pointing them out, then set off, paddling into the sunset. What started on low notes definitely ended in a high note.




Back on land, I found amazingly cheap accomodations. Amazingly cheap. So cheap, I didn't have much desire to spend much time in the room. So I didn't. I went of for dinner and some well-deserved beer after a rather emotional rollercoaster of a day. I met more lovely people to pass the night drinking and conversing with and one little kitten who routed into my nap. It's impossible to have a bad time with a kitten in your lap and a Beer Lao in your hand. Traveling is always good. Even when it's not.

Bolaven Plateau II: Drums, Dirt Roads and Caffine.

The plan for the next day was to see another 2 or 3 waterfalls. But what's the point of plans, anyways? Their function is to give you a just general idea, to get you at least moving in any direction rather than staying still, laying in bed past noon.

So the next day I took off on my motorbike, a little later than "planned." The reason for the late start was this: At abour 1:30, I woke to the distant sound of drumming. Slow, steady drumming. 1:30 a.m.? Are you kidding me? At 1:30 a.m., my mind goes nowhere good while alone in a cane and bamboo bungalow in a strange, remote Laotian village. Then, through the dark, my eyes adjusted just enough to make out a man sitting at the foot of my bed. I screamed. My eyes studied the shape more and it turned out to be they way the large mosquito net was knotted to fit the small framed bed. Oops. The drumming continued well past 3 a.m. and my mind moved on from imaginary figures in my bungalow to ritual sacrifices. This led to half-awake, crazy dreams and around 4, I managed to get the deep, undisturbed sleep that I take pride in, drums still going. Due to said late night chain of events, I moseyed out a bit later than my 7 am departure time. Incidentally, the explanation for the drumming was that the temple monks were chanting for the new moon.

I got directions to my new destination and they seemed clear. Gas station, turn right. I reached a gas station but it appeared the road was blocked off and under construction. I continued straight and straight until I reached a not-in-my-direction main town. No other gas station was passed. There was no denying, that was the road. I turned around and got back to said road. I spotted some motorbikes coming out of it and shrugged. I guess this is what the map meant by dotted lines. Later I learned that dotted lines mean a bumpy, slidy, sore-butt road. I rarely passed 3rd gear and at one point had to stop the bike after fishtailing through a road of loose dirt. But, I always managed to pry my left hand away from the break to wave back at the enthusiastic waving kids walking home from school for lunch. The road took longer than expected but I was so happy to hit asphalt and get going faster than 35 km/hr, I couldn't be bothered to stop for lunch.

Down the way, my right hand was cramping from driving and I passed a sign that said "Come have a cup of tea with us." I turned right around and drove into the driveway. A lovely lady who preferred coffee to tea poured me some green tea. We were making small talk when two Dutch girls appeared, eager to learn about the tea process. We got a tour of the operation and left happy and carrying our tea purchases. They, too, were headed to a waterfall by motorcycle. I had found my playmates for the day.

We reached Tad Yuang and it was spectacular.


The grounds were gorgeous.

We found a map leading to another waterfall. We decided to walk and see what we find. We found cows, and coffee tree after coffee tree,

and a river and a perfect spot to watch butterflies and eat an apple. But ultimately, no waterfall. The walk wasn't planned but was thoroughly enjoyed. We gave up on the waterfall and I made Thai/English chitchat with a saleswoman as I scarfed down my overdue lunch while my new friends shopped. We made our way to a Fair Trade coffee shop on the way to the main road and talked more and drank more tea and then drank more coffee. At this point, if sleep came to me tonight, it'd be a minor miracle.

Dark was nearing and Tad Fan and Tad Niang were going to have to be a miss, but not for naught. On the ride back, I didn't mind the bugs in my face that always make driving at dusk less than pleasurable. I was too busy eyeing and smiling at the pink neon sunset sinking between two Champassak mountains.

STATISTICS:
Cups of Tea consumed: 4
Cups of Coffee consumed: 2
Bugs on my face: 113 (rough estimation)
Mounds of dirt passed: 63 (rough estimation)
Kms driven in 2 days: around 290
Total red lights: 1
Times I filled the gas tank: 2
Times I couldn't find the key only to have it pointed out to me that it was still in the seat key hole: 2
Total 2-day waterfall count: 5

Bolaven Plateau I: Chasing Waterfalls

It was a beautiful sunrise once I managed to pry my eyes open in the sleeper bus rolling into Pakse. The rest of the day was thoroughly uneventful day filled with errands and planning. I had hoped to do the Ta Ong trail but it was prohibitively expensive to go alone and no one had signed up for it. A bit disappointed, I decided to spend the next two days exploring the Bolaven Plateau on a motorbike. The next morning I mounted my not-so-mighty 100cc metal steed and took off. My 2 day 1 night route would essentially go from waterfall to waterfall. Pakse to overnight in Tad Lo then down to Paksong and back to Pakse. I had a map and a general idea of where I was headed.

Pha Suam

Once I turned off the main highway 13 onto a small highway leading to the first waterfall, Pha Suam and then further to Tad Lo, it was a relaxing, easy drive. The road was lined with stilted houses, walls of sunflowers, waving children, staring adults, and indifferent goats. It was intersected by dozens of small streams, yellow suicidal butterflies, chickens, and even one, large, weasel-like rodent. In the distance, mountains loomed. And did I mention waterfalls? I arrived in Tat Lo by 11:30 and lunched while staring at the wide Tat Hong waterfall.

Eager to make my load lighter, I checked into Tim's Guesthouse and got directions and suggestions from the owner who's English, just as the Lonely Planet promised, was perfect.



He showed me a map of the area and I took off to find Tad Lo. I found a trail headed up and took it which led me to an elephant! I continued up trails, hopping over elephant dung and found one beautiful waterfall. Hoping to find the clearest view of the falls, I kept trying to find a way onto a clearing down below but I kept coming across ladders.

1st ladder: Sketch. Rungs look insecure. Missing a rung or two.

2nd ladder: Even sketchier. Missing 3 or 4 rungs.

3rd ladder: Really just 2 parallel sticks with the occasional sparse rung. More rungs missing or broken than appearing functional on the ladder.

Then, I came to it: the money spot.

I returned to my guesthouse to grab the bike to head to the fourth and last waterfall of the day, Tat Suong. I passed a series of almond groves on the road which eventually, according to the Lonely Planet, dead-ended to another road. There one was instructed to turn left into a parking lot looking out over the top of the falls. I say according to the Lonely Planet because I didn't go that way. I had left the guidebook at home. So when kids along the road started shouting at me, I figured I'd follow them. I was led by two industrious boys into a little village where I left my bike.
Then it was a hike through rice patties, hopping on rocks over streams and over boulders for about 10 minutes until we reached the bottom of the falls.

They showed me the prime spot to swim and I decided it was best to swim in my sarong rather than my bikini. I proceded to do a funny little dance trying to get out of my clothes while wrapped in my sarong. While I struggled, a small hoard of boys came and joined us, most stripping down to their birthday suits and then immediately jumping from high boulders. Seriously, this is the life. We swam around for about 20 minutes, splashing around and jumping into the water until I decided it was time for me to go. That apparently meant that everyone was to pack up. When we got to the village, I gave the two boys the Big Brother Mouse books that I had picked up in Luang Prabang. I drove away feeling like the day had been a grand success.

Vientiane: A morning without coffee is like something without something else - Joma shirt.

Kayaking to Vientiane: Brilliant. I mean, a good many things are more fun than sitting in a minivan but kayaking to the same destination tops the list. In the end it was about 2 and a half hours in a car and 2 hours in the kayak there abouts. I joined up with a lovely Scottish woman in a kayak and we managed to tip over in the rapids. Good fun. I also met an enthusiasitic English woman as well who had been living in Hat Yai in Thailand. Upon arriving at our destination, we three gals took off to find the English woman's friend and to get a hostel. Hostel:check. Beer Laos: check. Sleep: check.

Vientiane Guesthouse

The next day, we four gals (2 English, 1 Scottish, and me) had an amazing breakfast at Joma. If I could live in Joma, I just might. The food, though pricey was amazing and the atmosphere reminded me of home - a nice break once in a while. It was refreshing having some girl company which hasn't really happened on this trip until now. We headed off to Xieng Kuane, a little park filled with Buddhist and Hindi statues. It had a gigantic gourd-like structure with a giant tree on the top. It lets visitors enter through a mouth, climb up some steep, dusty steps passing hell, earth, and heaven to the top, overlooking the park. It was easy to snap away for hours here.

Into the mouth

Inside the giant gourd.

The view from the top.

We capped off the day with a trip to the forested temple of Wat Sok Pa Luang. There we followed a small trail to a tree house with a herbal steam sauna. We cooled off on their balcony, drinking tea and then treated ourselves to a truly fantastic traditional Lao massage. The guidebooks warn that this type of massage is "touchier" than most, and they didn't lie, but it was effective. Relaxation achieved.

We treated ourselves to an early dinner back at Joma, where I had the BEST lasagna (spinach and eggplant) I've had in asia topped off with mulberry pie with ice cream. Could this day get any better? Who said that Vientiane was boring? I packed my bags to catch the sleeper bus to Pakse.

I've been on a sleeper bus in China and a sleeper train in Vietnam thinking I knew what to expect. I climbed on the sleeper bus for Pakse and came to the realization that there were two to a bed. The bed was smaller than a twin mattress. Most people were traveling in pairs and thus lying next to their traveling partner but I, all by my lonesome, might have to spend 12 hours sharing a smaller-than-twin mattress with a complete stranger. I wasn't sure that I was comfortable with this - in fact I was sure I wasn't. Luckily, no one came to join my one my bottom bunk. It was an easy ride into town.

My sleeper bus window.

Vang Vieng: Spring break at Carlos and Charlies meets quiet little Laos. But, man, the climbing!

Reluctant to leave Luang Prabang, I hoped on a minivan armed with Dramamine. Luck had it that the person sitting next to me, an Israeli/Swiss/American was interesting AND a climber! Good conversation and the view out the car window was incentive enough to stay awake as imposing karst mountains inched closer to us as we drove nearer to Vang Vieng and a parade of students slowly riding their bikes while carrying checkered, matching umbrellas in one hand and steering with the other lined the roads. It wasn't raining. The umbrellas were to provide them with mobile shade on an oppressively hot day.

Upon arriving in Vang Vieng, we scored some cheap bungalows complete with hammock overlooking the river, across a quaint wooden bridge from the main, noisy part of town.


I spent the rest of the day trying to tie up loose ends for the grad school applications. That night, from the comfort of my hammock, I overheard the word "climbing". I butted in and by the end of the conversation, I agreed to join a French man for a day of climbing in the morning. The plan was to put on the shoe and if it didn't hurt, I was in.


Morning came and I was in. The wall was fantastic as it was actually two walls that created a cool, shaded canyon with climbs on either side.


Pockets and tuffas and jugs galore. As lunchtime came, we decided better to do 2 half days than one full day and set off for a couple of tubes and the river. We got dropped off where the tubing starts and what a shock. Think Senor Frog Cancun Spring Break X 10. Bikini and trunk-clad bodies marked with lipstick and permanent marker adverts stood on decks hooting and hollering with cocktail-filled buckets in their hands. I had no intention of getting out of my tube and I had mixed emotions about the sight.

I suppose like Pai in Thailand, Vang Vieng is a place that sucks you in. Where people come for a couple of days and stay for a couple of weeks. Or in the case of a few local celebs, for over a year. But where as Pai is known for it's relaxed and slow atmosphere, Vang Vieng is known in the SE Asia backpacking scene for partying and tubbing. Bars line the river enticing tubers to grab a hold of a bottle and be pulled in to cheap buckets and to swing off precarious trapeze contraptions into the water. The music is loud and compared to the subdued nature of Laos, a bit a shocking, but underneath the drunken revelry that seems out of place in such a soft- spoken place is an undercurrent of goodwill among fellow travelers and ultimately, a celebration of life. Unfortunately, it's a celebration that I would have appreciated more about 10 years ago. Still, the landscape is amazing, the locals seem to take it all in stride, and the karst mountains provide an awe-inspiring vista that I gazed at contentedly from the tube and later, laying on my riverside bungalow hammock.

The second day of climbing was good as well and I spent my energy on a 6b overhang willed with slimy tuffas that humbled me. I hate pinching.

me.

There were five of us and the guide: the Frenchman, the I/S/A man from the mini van, myself, and an Austrian couple who told me about kayaking to Vientiane rather than a bus. Kayak instead of bus, I said? Sold. I told Adam, the man who ran the guide shop and actually spent alot of time in Krabi that I would be back next year with the boy in tow and spent the afternoon alternating between the hammock, the river, and the deck of the restaurant for yet another banana shake.

I met up with Austrian couple and the I/S/A dude for a drink and retired early to prep for the next day. All in all Vang Vieng was a pleasant surprise!

Anyone looking to climb in the area, I can definitely recommend Adam's. Great people, experienced and safe climbers. Green Discovery is another outfit that goes as well.

Luang Prabang: Parlez vous francais?

Tired from a long day in Hanoi and a plane that took some serious concentration to relax, I agreed to the first hostel I came across, a dingy little place that was owned one of the cutest little elderly Laos couple. I passed out quickly and took about walking the town the next day. I found a cute cafe to have breakfast where I was immediately asked by an enthusiastic elderly woman, "Parlez vous francias?" She was instantly disappointed in my answer and left to get her husband to deal with me. He was very pleasant, though his English was limited. I booked a guide with Green Discovery Tours, a pricey but very socially conscious tour company, to go climbing the following day. After, I took to wandering around town and happened across Ock Pop Tok, a non-profit organization set up to support weavers in their art and in improving their art. The salesgirl there took a liking to me, I think because I spoke a few words of Thai. She told me about her life, we sang some songs together (me: the only Thai song I know... Du, Du, Du and she: a Laos song in English). It was great fun then I headed off to see a waterfall.

Luang Prabang

Kuang Si Waterfall starts by passing by what essentially looks like a Bear Playpen. Not a bad life for a bear, indeed. They are bears taken in by the Free the Bears Foundation, rescued from poachers and idiots who think bears might make cute pets then find out otherwise (as I said, idiots). You then follow a trail up to small falls with pool after pool for swimming (including a rope swing for the brave) up to the main, large falls.




Then, you can take a STEEP trail up to the top of the waterfall. The steep trail entailed crossing a log across a creek which I did really well up until the end, when I slipped and scrapped my toe down the side, pushing all the mossy, black/green material down past the quick of my big toe. I realized that my time was cutting short and I would be late making it to my minivan. I didn't make it to the top but on the way down, met a nice American doctor touring Laos before doing cleft palate operation in Vietnam. He took a motorcycle here and I decided to forgo the minivan for my favorite mode of transportation. We enjoyed a lovely evening, good food and then I retired early as my toe was killing me and I decided it was time to start digging.

And dig I did. And hurt it did. I cut and dug and cut and dug and still couldn't get it out. This did not bode well for the climbing trip the next day which I already booked and paid for. I woke up the next day determined. I brought my gear and I would use it. Period. I went out with a guide and 2 lovely Australian girls. Just putting my shoes on hurt but I could muster up the 1st two easy climbs essentially on my left foot and other, non-toe parts of the right foot - not the best technique but you do what you gotta. The 2 6a+'s that followed, I made halfway up before the agonizing pain in my toe was just too much. Stupid log, stupid slip, stupid toe. What a lame thing to happen for my first time out climbing on this trip.

Monks spotted on our way back into town from climbing

I consoled myself with a nice Indian dinner and wonderful massage with the girls. Luang Prabang was beautiful and romantic and I was painfully aware of Brett's absence. I guess that means we'll have to go back. After dinner and a massage, it was time to pack again.

Hanoi III: So long, Vietnam, Hello Laos.

NohB in bed on the night train from Sapa

I arrived in Hanoi groggy after not having slept so well. I wandered around the Old Quarters and enjoyed the stark difference between the quiet, vacant streets at dawn versus the hustle and bustle of salesmen hawking and tourists gawking later in the day. I ran into the Kiwi couple from Sapa at a bench overlooking the lake and we enjoyed a nice breakfast together before parting ways.

From the bench on the lake.

Masks in the Old Quarter

I caught a xe om (motorcycle taxi) to KOTO, a non-profit restaurant that serves as a training program for street kids. The menu was definitely geared to the western clientele but the service was lovely with kids eager to please and do their best. After nursing a runny nose and the beginnings of sickness for a few days, their lemongrass, ginger and honey tea hit the spot. I can't say enough about Phở. I just love the stuff. I don't think there was a day I didn't eat it in Vietnam. Tofu Phở. Phở with egg. If only it was served with chili flakes. I managed to squeeze in a quick visit to the Hao Lo Prison, better known as the Hanoi Hilton, and then headed off the the airport for my flight to Luang Prabang on Air Laos.

Hanoi Hilton

The Hanoi airport is not designed on ease-of-use and information dissemination. Strangely enough, most of the screens showing flight information in the departure area displayed information about arriving flights. I sat there, exactly 2 hours prior to departure with no visible place to check into. I asked where to check in for my flight and was directed to a variety of different closed counters. Eventually, I just sat down, read my book and when I looked up ( about an hour and a half before my flight) a counter with my flight magically appeared. A little later, I was led to a small plane of questionable safety standards. I couldn't even get the tray table to work correctly which made me fear for the larger, more important parts of the plane. It was a nerve racking hour but we eventually came to a bumpy landing on Loatian soil.

I shared a tuk tuk into town with a lovely Danish couple who, much like the Kiwi couple would keep popping up during my stay. I stayed at the first guesthouse offered to me, being exhausted after the train from Sapa, my early morning Hanoi wanderings, and the mental energy spent willing my plane to stay in the air. The owners were an adorable older couple who spoke just enough English to make everything easy. The bed was harder than I like it but I slept like a baby.

Bed in Luang Prabang

Sapa II: You buy from me.

Everyone said that Sapa was beautiful and indeed it is. High mountains sculpted by rice terraces and colored by the vibrant traditional dress of the ethnic minorities, the Black Hmong, Red Dao, and Tay. But if Sapa had a tagline, it would be "You buy from me." Those colorful, basket-toting women drive a hard sales pitch and if persistance is a virtue, they have it in spades. I walked away with a bracelet, a belt, and two sets of postcards. I later met a French woman with whom I communicated in Spanish who actually bought two of their jackets so I feel like I didn't do so badly in trying to resist them.

I wanted to support businesses that directly benefited them. I asked around several places to check out the homestay options and one of my questions was always, "Do you use minority guides?" The answer was always "yes." And that answer was a bold-faced lie. I signed up for the best sounding option and who appeared as our guide but a young Vietnamese man from Halong Bay. Fantastic. But I tried to make the best of it. While that bit of it was disappointing it was actually a really nice trek. The guide was knowledgeable and gave great advice such as not buying from children so that they aren't encouraged to sell handicrafts to tourists rather than attend school. I signed on to a 2 day tour with an overnight stay in a village. The trek followed the curves up and down the dramatic scenery and over bridges and through rice terraces. The food was delicious and hearty, my favorite being the Phở rau with egg. Our village host was very kind and while spoke very little English, communicated with smiles and his own brew of rice wine. The stuff was strong but luckily the shot glasses small. We stopped as schools along the way and were given the opportunity to donate money to the schools directly.

All in all the trek was great and my trek-mates made for great company. We were a group of 6, a Kiwi couple, and English couple, a lone Belgian, and a lone me. I would meet up with the Kiwi couple serendipitously several times after the trek. If I had it to do over again, I would only change one thing: take up one of the Hmong or Red Dao ladies in Sapa on a homestay. One offered the 1st morning I arrived off the train but it was a bit too much to think about 1st thing in the morning while still trying to get my bearings on the town.

Random Stats
Amount of sales pitches heard: about 93
Items bought: 6
Kilometers walked: Around 22 I think.
Total amount of Panadol taken to help sore knees on hard hikes downhill: 1000 mg
Coolest mode of transport: Soviet jeep.

Sapa I: To tour or not to tour.

We as Westerners have become quite accustomed to planning our future. We like to know exactly what's going to happen. We forecast the weather so that we can plan. Plan, plan, plan. I decided not plan this month long trip in advance and within a week I had a plan. I booked a tour to Halong Bay and while it was enjoyable, it all so good and safe. For Sapa, I didn't plan. I chose not to book the tour and felt the oddball among the other tourbookers picked up at the hostel. So here's my grand experiment. It's been a while since I've actually played something by ear.

I arrived in Sapa and breakfast in the proximity of two German girls, I asked their perspective on the place and they recommended a motorcycle tour they did to the Tram Ton Pass which is also called Heaven's Gate and Silver Falls. I had no plan, so sure! Why not. I was going to just rent a scooter and go myself but the afternoon in minority villages sounded appealing so I signed up for that with the promise of an English speaking guide. The LP guidebook stated that the owner had her own camp of female guides however the guide I ended up with was a Vietnamese male. Hmmmm. As for the tour, the landscape was gorgeous with impressive green mountains everywhere but the visit to the minority villages were a bit disappointing. My guide spoke English in a convincing but indecipherable manner as in I was sure he was trying to speak English but had not a clue of what he was saying. In the end there was a lot of sitting, sipping tea, and listening to Vietnamese in 3 different villages. The "guide" left a lot to be desired. I returned to town and set out on figuring out the homestay.

Tabacco Bong, as illustrated by my driver.

Check out that bridge! I was holding my breath.

Silver Falls, Sapa, Vietnam