Thursday, 29th November

Having thought about it overnight, I have to report that your blogger ‘wimped out’ of the bicycle ride. I know. I felt a real light weight. But take a stony road, hills and a mountain bike with gears (my sit up and beg bike only has 3!) I saw a disaster in the making, so I opted out and joined Denise in the support vehicle. All things considered, a good move.

It was a bit overcast when we left centre ville, but the day brightened and warmed up quite quickly. We sat in the back of the truck that followed the cyclists to provide water and comfort, should the need arise. This was definitely ‘tour de Laos’ rather than ‘Tour de France’!! The whole enterprise seemed a source of complete mystery to the locals!

I think it is well worth dwelling on the villagers for a moment. Rice seems to be the main crop. As the rice harvest has taken place the fields are full of dry straw. Although town dwellers tend to have perhaps three children, in rural communities large families of perhaps 5 and 6, may be more, are still common we were told. Children being a good source of labour. In addition, there being no pension provision, children are relied upon to look after their aged parents. A good number of children spread the load of responsibility. Old people are respected and cared for. The children we saw all looked happy enough, tumbling with the dogs, cats and chickens in the dust around most houses.

We travelled up through a couple of villages out into the farmland beyond for about 7 kms. It was a very bumpy ride for us in the truck and it proved impossible to take many photographs because you could not keep your hands still, as we lurched along – swerving to avoid the biggest potholes and clattering across the narrow wooden bridges that spanned the streams and water ways.

At one stage we came across some major earthworks. These were part of the the new press railway line the Chinese are financing and building. The trouble of these ventures is that rather than giving work or trade to the local people, the Chinese provide all their own resources – manpower, machinery and equipment so it contributes nothing to the local economy.

The view from our perch in the back of the truck – on a less bumpy bit!

We eventually arrived at the nearest you can get to the Kuang Nyui Waterfall we were visiting. Our cyclists dismounted and we clambered out. Passing the usual gastronomic opportunity, plus puppy, we set out to clamber up the hill.

We started up the track, crossing a very wobbly bridge, even in Laos terms – planks shot up as you put your foot on them and the whole thing swayed from side to side!

The route took us up and through some pretty dense vegetation and then down again to an even more precarious looking bridge, but by now we could hear the roar of the water and see it tumbling over the rock above us.

I think it is difficult to capture a waterfall on a photograph as it is a roaring, living thing, too active to be represented in a still photograph. The Korean ladies who had passed me on the track were all very happily being soaked by the force of the downpour and gave some size perspective……..

Eventually the Asian representatives and their shrieking left and our little party took their turn,

Bruce and I performed paparazzi duty! There is nothing like a bit of water to give people pleasure. Somehow I have never been a Water Baby!

There was another, much more gentle pool on the way back where more bathing took place, before we left it to its quiet babbling. Laos generates a lot of hydro electric power in its towering limestone mountains and now sells it to its neighbours less blest.

We wandered back down to the vehicles, buying drinks on the way to support the small local community.

There were not quite so many cyclists on the way back. Bruce and Sarah had joined the support party and their bicycles were expertly tied on the roof.

Denise taking her duties seriously!

It was such a lovely meander back stopping for photos of water buffaloes

Pigs

And just views!

Back in the city we had our first free time of the holiday. Denise and I just lunched on a few cashews and nibbles and had a rest before setting out for an afternoon stroll.

We crossed the river on a very long and wobbly bridge amazingly shared by pedestrians, cyclists and motorcyclists. In the usual way, the bridge swayed and the planks flexed as weight fell on them. I am sure they have been safe for years, but still felt happier when we had reached the other side!

The south side of the river it was much less developed, with hotel buildings much more in the local style.

Looking across back to the north side, buildings were multi floored and you could see the Vang Viang of the future. In fact it is a town with something of a darker recent past. Some years ago it became something of a backpackers paradise, situated as it is on the Nam Song river, in a beautiful valley about halfway between Vientiane and Luang Prebang. To some extent it became a victim of its own success. In addition to the backpackers who had found an inexpensive, beautiful location that provided kayaking, swimming caving and rock climbing it also attracted bars and restaurants including such niceties as magic mushrooms and marijuana infused pizzas. Unfortunately, it deteriorated into a place of drunkenness, drugs and debauchery by all accounts and when this was mixed with the outdoor pursuits and a number of people died, embassies started to register it as a dangerous place to go. Eventually the Government cracked down and closed some of the more hard core rave bars, started to enforce the drug laws and closed down the more dangerous activities. Vang Vieng had cleaned up its act and become a more respectable tourist location again. Since then it has grown rapidly with, it would appear, little deference to its cultural roots to n terms of buildings.

For us it was an enjoyable walk along the river. We passed cows and strollers and the inevitable cooking…

A lady was building a new fence to keep in her herd….

Someone was painting boats ready for the new season…….

At the end of road we turned inland and walked through a local community. We could see inside some houses.

Food stalls abounded and chicken feet were readily available for the discerning eater!

Back over another bridge, we watched the days balloon flights going over,,,,,, this bridge did offer at least a bit of protection from falling into the water!

Back on the night market street, young women were setting up their market stalls, babies attached. All happy, albeit shyly, for us to show an interest in their offspring.

We had agreed to meet the rest of the crowd at The Elephant Crossing again and spent a jolly evening together before adjourning to bed. It is the 8 hour journey to Luang Prebang tomorrow – advertised as being another bumpy ride but with bends (๐Ÿ˜ณ) as we cross the mountain range that lies between us and it.

Wednesday, 28th November

Foregoing the opportunity of travelling by local bus because it was described as ‘too bumpy’ – I, of course, would have preferred this as providing ‘local colour’! – we took the ‘smoother’ option of a shared mini bus. As the other occupants were already on board when it arrived to collect us, we took up the four seats in the back. Our luggage was hoisted on the roof and we were off.

All went well until we got out of Vientiane. Our route took us down to the Mekong River where we took our last look at Thailand before turning away and heading out of the town. There was a short stop at the bus station when we feared that more passengers would be boarding (the mini bus was full in our terms!) but thankfully this was not the case and we were soon on the road to Vang Vieng. It was not long before before we realised that the suspension in our ‘smoother’ vehicle was more or less non existent. In these circumstances the back seat was probably the worst place to be. The road, although mostly tarmaced, had obviously been very badly affected by the rains, to the extent that there were vast tracts of just compacted stones and major pot holes. Before long we were being tossed around, leaving our seats and then descending back on to them with something of a bump (for which read thud!). We were hanging on to the handle on the seat in front for dear life as a way of containing our levitation. The journey was to take three and a half hours. The driver was obviously keen to get on (๐Ÿ˜ณ) and seemed to gleefully look upon every opportunity to pass the vehicle in front as a challenge to his standing in the racing world. We hurtled up behind things and just before the oncoming vehicle was perhaps a few yards away from it, he would overtake. This added lurching to the bouncing. People were beginning to look rather uncomfortable and I was just thanking my lucky stars for the gene pool that gave me a cast iron stomach.

After an hour we stopped at the local ‘services’. I denied myself the opportunity to use the facilities and instead took a few pictures, it not being possible to take any on the bus as the windows were dirty and I am lacking a sports programme on my ‘phone, which would have been the only thing to accommodate the movement!

On consulting our guide we were reassured that we had done the easier part of the journey. The road was going to get really bad now. And so it did. For the next 2 hours. However, what it was getting was higher and eventually we were in the mountains and despite the discomfort of the ride, we had to acknowledge that the scenery was quite beautiful.

We arrived at the hotel about 1.30. We were stiff from the journey and collapsed on the seats provided outside the hotel, thankful to have arrived in one piece. Shoes had to removed before entering, but we were eventually safely in a beautifully sunny room, where we munched a few nuts and rested until 2.45 when were off out again, this time to a cave.

Vang Vieng seems more of a village than a town and nestles in a valley more or less surrounded by mountains. We wandered down the main street where there was a lot of building going on. I thing Vang Vieng has been discovered and is building to accommodate the inrush of guests. I am glad to be here now. I think putting your rice out to dry in front of your house could soon become a thing of the past.

Turning off down a side road towards the river, smoke spiralled up from a bonfire in a lush green landscape whiile jagged topped, grey mountains loomed overhead.

The rice harvest is now over and the rice straw remains….

We continued down the track until we reached the river, here a wooden bridge with bright orange paint took us wobbling across the river, it’s wooden slats showing varying degrees degrees of spring, making walking a little uncertain, but the views were amazing.

The air is clear and crisp and everything feels so much fresher. The humidity is gone and though it is still very warm, it is much more comfortable. As we neared the cave there were the inevitable food stalls. You could graze here all day! Some of the things we tasted. All seemed very sweet versions of rice.

This one involved bee larvae……..

….. and these were medicinal mushrooms. It is alleged.

I have to admit, with apologies to any cave dwellers or potholers reading, that caves do not do a lot for me. I am sorry but there it is. I particularly don’t like those with fluorescent lighting of various hues rendering them more like Santa’s grotto than a wonder of nature. This one had the added disadvantage of being reached by a large number of steep steps. Nevertheless, in the interests of the party, I duly clambered up – with, I have to say, more zeal than some of my compatriots which is pleasing in my old age – and joined in the outing.

Nature at its best!

Grrrrrr!

The reveal at the end of the tunnel was a wonderful panorama…..

We returned through the tunnel and out to the river where there was a lady fishing.

We wandered back up the road towards the town….. please note the elephant clothing. Local brew!

On the way back, Bruce purchased his favourite variety of pancake – banana, cheese and egg. Not a combination I would recommend!!

The sun began to go town as we wandered up the town and a few balloons appeared overhead. We went to sit on the balcony of the Elephant Crossing Hotel to watch the sun go down over the river.

It seemed rude not to take advantage of their ‘happy hour’ offer – two cocktails for the price of one. I had two ‘Frogs’

Which was a combination of cucumber, mint, gin and tonic, all taken through a very eco friendly bamboo straw. All very satisfactory……

Tomorrow it is the cycle trip to the waterfall. Perhaps I will and perhaps I won’t!

Tuesday, 28th November

Well, here we are in Vientiane, the capital of Laos. Breakfast was served on the top floor of our hotel, which gave us a birds eye view of the city. We have to have a local guide here and at 9.30 we set off with him to see some sites.

Our first impression was of a much less frenetic city than Pnom Penh. Many roads had the French boulevard feel and there was a lot less traffic. Having said this, the overhead wiring was more reminiscent of Delhi!

How does anything work!?!

We saw the presidential palace, which looked almost untouched by human hand

And then crossed the road to a Buddhist Monastery now used as a museum. The city of Vientiane was razed to the ground in the 1800’s and this was the only building left standing.

The complex is quite large and passing through a tall outer wall, we found ourselves in a well tended garden interspersed with gold coloured shrines.

An inner gate took us into the main ‘business’ area. The large temple was surrounded by covered niched cloisters.

We were lucky to arrive when we did and could take some photographs without too many people. Within about ten minutes of our arrival, the place was swarming with other tourists. ๐Ÿ˜ก

We escaped by another gate and set off to get some local currency. Unlike Cambodia, Laos does not use US dollars as its main currency, so we had to go to a money changer to get some kips. Money changing is a too lowly occupation for banks it seems. Kips come with lots of ‘0’s so we were millionaires in minutes! We carried our loot off in the black plastic bag provided. Monied up, we wandered past the fast food stalls…..

Fast food starts early here. It was about 10.30!

We found ourselves walking up a broad avenue with an Arc de Triomphe like archway at the end. It transpires (we think, because our guide’s English is not very clear) that this was used as a runway during the Vietnam war. Laos was another country not involved but badly affected by it. More of this later.

On reaching the arch which had a lovely interior ceiling

We were able to scramble to the top, which gave us views over the city below.

Clever, eh!

Moving on, our Laos guide left us and we took a tuk tuk to a local rehabilitation centre run by an organisation called COPE. Here they make and fit artificial limbs, tragically much needed by the victims (many very young) of the cluster bombs dropped in that awful red ‘corridor’ of the US bombing raids…….

The red areas are where clusters bombs were dropped.

It is thought that 30% of the bombs did not explode on impact and remain in the ground to explode when touched by unwary farmers tilling their land or young children playing. People are still being wounded by these things although much clearing still continues. Once again a sobering reminder of the horrors of war, but it was good to see the success the centre was having. It not only fits the limbs, but some of the people helped stay on to work in making the prosthetics.

They are doing amazing work. It is a tragedy that it is still needed. They also supply limbs for those born with deformities which their pioneer work can also benefit.

Back into our tuk tuk……

an up market model of the Cambodian version, we set of for lunch. After a brief pause we were out again to wander the markets and eventually walk to the Mekong River.

The green in this last picture is algae ….๐Ÿ˜ณ. I can feel Keith’s heart sinking at the thought of me in a basket selling area๐Ÿ˜–๐Ÿ˜„

The Mekong River jaunt was to take pictures of the sunset. As it happened, it was overcast, so although we could see Thailand on the far side of the river, it was through fairly heavy gloom, and the sunset was to say the least a bit eerie…….

However, we saw some interesting things on the way…….

A king with dangly bits……

Some monks…….

Some flags…….

Strawberries!

And more street food served on a motorbike sidecart!

Monday 26th November

It was raining and very dull when we woke up, which seemed appropriate for the day ahead as we were going to view a very dark period of Cambodian history. We were going to what has become known as the Killing Fields and on to the building known as S21.

The start to the day was interesting in that, due to major works taking place on the building, we had to take a tuk tuk ride to breakfast to another hotel. Here the meal we had ordered the previous day was delivered on a sort of airline tray, together with a whole baguette for each person! The first bread we have seen this journey and it certainly arrived in abundance. For the tea drinkers though it was not such a good experience!A first excellent cup of tea could not be followed with a second due to a major communication issue. As an old colleague of mine would have said, the young lady concerned was something of an ’empty vessel’. No amount of pointing, enunciating or acting out could get her to understand that a second cup was required! Eventually after management intervention a teapot was produced – but not before the cups themselves had been removed and the requirement for a replacement had been identified. Somehow breakfast seemed really hard work!

Back to the serious business of the day. Having done a little homework in preparation, we had already established these horrendous atrocities that we were to hear more about, happened in our lifetime and were so horrific that I found them difficult to assimilate. It took mans inhumanity to man to a new level.

Modern Cambodian history can only be described as tragic. By the mid 19th century the once mighty Khmer Empire was much weakened and dominated by Vietnam to the east and what was then Siam in the West. It was at this stage that the then king accepted the support of France. Cambodia became a French Protectrate and the French influence can still be seen in lay out of some parts of the city of Pnom Penh. All was reasonably quiet in the country until 1941. Then the war in Europe and the Indo Chinese wars impacted on the political situation and finally the Vietnam War, when the American Air Force started bombing the Cambodian border, ostensibly trying to eliminate the Viet Cong rebels hiding there. Or so Mr Nixon said. It was against this background that Pol Pot and his cronies came to power providing retaliation for the people living in fear of the US bombing which was killing thousands of the rural population. They operated under the banner of Cambodian Communism. They were to become known as the Khmer Rouge. It was 1975.

This date was to see the start of a period of unmitigated cruelty and terror. It is beyond belief that a man who himself had been born to a good family with a close association with the royal family, had been well educated, spent some time as a monk, had benefited from a scholarship to Paris and became a teacher could head an organisation that was responsible for the death of an estimated third of the population either killed outright, tortured, starved or worked to death.

The so called Killing Fields are an area just outside of Pnom Penh, previously a Chinese Cemetery. It was the place where prisoners of the Khmer Rouge regime prison known as S21 were taken to be killed. It is now a memorial to those who died there. There were another 196 prisons and 388 killing fields in other parts of Cambodia. This was the largest and has become the most famous. It serves as a chilling memorial to those who were caught up in the Pol Pot regime.

As you enter the area, a tall monument rises up in front of you.

At first you do not notice that it is full of the 8,985 skulls of the people murdered on the site. And then you realise what you are looking at.

The prisoners were taken to the area at night. They were then killed by having their throats cut with the serrated edge of a branch of the Super Palm tree, or being bludgeoned to death with axe handles or hoes to ‘avoid wasting bullets’.

The bones and clothes of those who were killed continue to rise to the surface of the ground when it rains. I found this one of the most poignant features of the site. Men, women, children and babies were all killed there, by boy soldiers as young as 12.

I have given much thought about what I should record of my visit to this and building S21. I think a few photographs will serve to capture the nature of the place.

First the drawings that tell the tale

Music was played over loudspeakers during the killings to drown out the noise.

One of the mass graves – only a few have been excavated.

Others can be seen …….

The killing tree where babies were battered to death, now covered with the acknowledgements of those who come to see and mourn.

The contents of the monuments…….

The cat nestled on an alter in the grounds seemed strangely comforting ………

We then travelled on to the Museum, the site of the prison called S21.

Although it is difficult to imagine, to many, death in the killing fields must have come as a relief after the horrific brutality of the interrogation in the building known as S21.

This was in fact an old school converted that the Khmer Rouge converted into an interrogation and torture machine to house those accused of conspiracy against the regime. ‘Confessions’ were gained by the most vicious and brutal means. Amazingly 7 people survived (one an artist) to give witness to what occurred in the prison. Corroboration, if it was needed, was provided by the regime itself in its careful record of all those detained there to demonstrate to Pol Pot that his will was being done. Ultimately the guards themselves were subject to the same fate as the prisoners they had guarded as distrust within the regime grew and they were considered to know too much. There is evidence that the young soldiers killed were beheaded and their severed heads were used to terrify those who were to replace them. Even those in the upper echelons of the organisation were later tortured into confessing to being members of the CIA or KGB.

I will leave the museum to talk for itself…….

The rules of the establishment……

The school building, just like any other……

The photographs……..

A particularly haunting face…….

The cells, for men……..

……and women

The shackles……..

A poster relating to the number of deaths, published after the activity of the Khmer Rouge was revealed, and then withdrawn as too horrific……

Journalists entered the prison three days after the Vietnamese arrived to liberate the City in 1979. By this time the Khmer Rouge had killed the last VIP prisoners being held there. The stench of these bodies led to the building being investigated. The soldiers, like Pol Pot had disappeared either into the jungle or to the Thai Border.

Only a few of the senior figures of the regime were ever arrested and tried. Many of them and the people who worked for them have reinvented themselves. The current Prime Minister was a member of the Khmer Rouge elite. Pol Pot himself remained at large for nearly 20 years, eventually dying in 1998.

Three of the survivors of the prison were at the Museum. All had been boys when they were released from the prison. One was even photographed when pictures were taken of the prison being liberated in 1979.

All were tortured and only survived due to various spurious circumstances. All are allowed to tell their stories and sell the books of their ordeal for charity. The artist among them painted some of the pictures in the Museum.

The whole morning was extremely disturbing and I will never forget the experience. I have limited my commentary on the sites because some of the information seemed too awful to repeat, but the memory of it will remain with me always, as will some of the faces……..

It seemed appropriate that the rain continued when we emerged from the museum. We arrived back at the hotel in somber mood.

After a brief visit to the market and a snack lunch we were launched into heavy traffic as we made our way to the airport. We were leaving for Laos.

Sunday, 25th November

Despite the rather unusual surroundings, I slept well until about 4.00 am, when the cockerels started their day! There were also sounds of life beneath us. The lady of the house had also started her day.

Having decided to abandon further sleep, it was time to get up and leave my comfy bed.

Although the house was well appointed for rural Cambodia, it was pretty primitive when compared to our standards. Nevertheless our hostess looked a woman who was definitely in charge of her domain and it was a privilege to spend time with her and her family.

Breakfast over (rice, cold fried eggs and pork) there was just time to identify the culprit of our early alarm call, pose for a family photo, say our ‘thank yous’ and depart. It had been quite an experience, not to be forgotten.

We then retraced our steps to the main road and were off again through the countryside, catching up on some sleep on the way……..

Gradually things became less rural and more commercial. Bigger lorries appeared. En route, we stopped at another busy market. People and their luggage were spilling out of their transport and fried spiders were very much the order of the day……..

I decided against this particular gourmet opportunity and some of the other offerings – both recognisable….

…… and not so much……. I think they were some sort of small bird.

There was some amazing fruit on offer even though it is the low season for fruit variety apparently.

This is apparently pickled fish. Once again, despite the temptation (๐Ÿ˜ณ) I chose not to try it!!

It was time to move on to the City. To say Pnom Penh has a checkered history is something of an understatement. It’s status as a capital has come and gone, its Kings have shared the same fate, it still shows signs of its French occupation and it was home to the headquarters of one of the most evil regimes the world has ever known. Pol Pot. More of which tomorrow. For us just arriving, it was a very large metropolis, teeming with people, with occasional wide boulevards and gardens and the first roundabouts we have come across since arriving in Cambodia.

We arrived at about mid day and met again at 3.30 to take a rather scary ride by a bicycle powered chair. It felt very precarious and exposed, hedged in as we were by the speeding cars, tuk tuks and motor bikes around us, but it enable us to see the sites!

Happily we lived to tell the tale!

But only just! En masse we looked like a bit ‘special’ and let out for the day…..

We were dropped off at the riverside where you could buy lotus blossoms to lay at the feet of the gods to bring good fortune……..

Or if you wanted more clarification you could have the cards read……

It was then off for a cruise. Pnom Penh is the place where two rivers converge – one that comes down from Siem Reap and the other the well known Mekong River.

The sun went down,…..

And the lights came up!

What a difference a day makes!

Saturday, 24th November

It was a leisurely start to the day. We had already prepared our overnight bags for our night in a ‘homestay’. After breakfast we gathered ourselves together for the several hours drive. We had a new bus – and it was new! Gleaming white leather seats – not what was expected somehow. However, luggage aboard and lazily watched by two tuk tuk drivers who lounged with their vehicles at the entrance of the hotel ready to carry off any guest who passed them, we set off.

On the outer edge of town there was a big local market selling everything you could think of! The stalls were laden with goods. Highlights were fine baskets, brooms and brushes of every shape and size. An egg man passed with mountains of eggs on the back of a bike trailer with a man perched on top of the egg cartons – I am not sure how that works! Bread – mainly of the baguette variety. Cooked food is available, of all types, from the start of the day!

Once out of Siem Reap we were on to the main road to Pnom Pen. It was to be like a rolling film set of rural life. The first over arching impression was of a vast flat landscape, disappearing in to the distance of mainly bright green rice fields and grassland. Trees hedged the route and drainage ditches marked off the fields. Banana trees provided the only real height, together with coconut palms – two staples in terms of the Cambodian diet. We saw very few people working the land. Young boys minded the cattle.

Intermittently ‘face on’ to the road, were properties of all sorts. Some looked quite well to do and several storey affairs, others were in the early stages of being built. However the majority were rambling ground level buildings, evolved over years to accommodate whole families with evidence of several generations of inhabitants. Babies through to great grand parents. There was often a fair amount of anything that could provide shade, quite understandable in the searing heat and constant sunshine of the dry season. While most of these were single story dwellings, there were also a surprising number of buildings on stilts. I say surprising because there was often no evidence of water around them, but there is a constant reference to monsoon rains which must make anything that can lift you away from water beneficial.

There were noticeably few big lorries. As we moved further out of town we saw water buffalo and occasionally a buffalo cart. It is interesting that motorbikes have more or less taken the place of donkeys and oxen in terms of cart pulling…….. they seem to carry enormous loads of all sorts behind quite small motorbikes.

Every few miles there was a bigger community with larger shops and often something entitled a ‘depot’ where it looked as though produce was centrally collected, but it turned out to be a filling station! Different thing altogether!! One is never sure of anything. Tyre companies seem to be quite the thing – a useful trade to be in with so many wheeled vehicles!

If there is any area of water there will be people fishing on it, down to the smallest murky puddle it seems. Fish forms a large part of the diet here and rice comes with everything.

We stopped at a stall selling sticky rice. This is rice mixed with coconut milk, sugar and black beans and is then stuffed into hollowed out bamboo and cooked on a barbecue. It was very sweet and, as it’s name implied, very sticky.

Further along the road, we stopped by the roadside where a family were creating popping rice using a real Heath Robinson device of an old generator attached to a hammer to crush the rice. There were a lot of processes before it emerged husk free and popping!

It was fascinating!! There was also a very pretty young woman with her child….

Lunch was eaten on the edge of a lake. It was a very busy place! Denise and I shared some chicken and mushroom steamed in a lotus palm. It was very good!

Moving on into the afternoon we visited the Sambor Prei Kuk Hindu Temple. Built in the 7th century and dedicated to Shiva, it was an interesting place, not least because of its being made of handmade bricks, with no mortar. The site was surprisingly whole considering its age, although it has also been taken over in parts by the dreaded fig. Another interesting feature is that all the buildings are hexagonal! The whole place had a lovely aura.

A gateway –

The Lion Temple

That brickwork…..

The woodland……..

The ultimate takeover……..

I still found it was very reminiscent of the sites we saw in Mexico. Very weird given how far apart the locations are…… It was at this site that we were to hear the first reference to Pol Pot and the tragic events of Cambodia’s so very recent history. Bombs were dropped on the site when it was thought to be a jungle area full of village communities. 6,000 people died there. A very sobering thought. Deng, our guide to the area had lived through the troubles and had obviously been very badly affected by the experience.

Leaving the temple and it’s ghosts behind, we headed off to the Deng’s mother in law’s hous, where we were to stay the night.

A very large and impressive house in Cambodian terms, but it had no flushing loo or shower, both processes being handled by ladling water out of a bucket๐Ÿ˜ณ

Our accommodation was dormitory style in the upper part of the house.

Deng took us for a walk across fields of rice straw to see the sunset. On the way we saw oxen and cattle heading home for the night….

The highlight of the walk was the sunset.

Despite the late hour, some were still fishing –

The sky just got better and better…….

After a supper of rice, fish and green beans we had a very early night…..

Friday, 22nd continued

With my usual high standard of technical skill, I am going to continue my commentary on yesterday on a new page – adding to yesterday’s was a bit challenging! So here we are, early on Saturday morning, in my air conditioned room, looking out on a day that is sunny, and looking very hot. It is 6.30 am

……. to continue the story. It is obvious that tourism has become a major industry in Cambodia. For those who can get into it, it is a pathway to riches. Getting there is another matter. Free schooling lasts to the age of 12 and is ‘compulsory’, but it was evident when we reached the rural areas that access and other pressures mean that children often drop out of school much earlier. Certainly financial issues prohibit many from going further. Not only do you have to pay for school but things like language tuition is an additional cost far beyond the reach of the majority. In the lakeside communities we saw evidence of this.

When we got nearer to the lake, there were literally hundreds of boats……. some of the drivers were certainly no more than early teens.

We boarded our craft and set off. Initially our route took us down a broad channel, but soon this widened out and we were travelling through a forest on the lake. Apparently this inhibits the rush of water during the monsoon season when the lake swells and the whole area floods.

Everything travels by water and a boat is obviously vital. There was a floating ‘corner shop’ run by an enterprising lady!

The houses show how high the water gets.

Some were obviously substantial. Others less so.

Once out on the lake there was a restaurant that housed crocodiles, imported from local crocodile farms. I have to say they looked dead – but they obviously sleep with their mouths open!

Others just sleep.

We got out onto the roof and you could see for miles……..

The lake is certainly a size – 150 k long and 70 wide – and provides a livelihood for the communities around it. These floating villages of between 1,000 and 4,000 people make a living from fishing or growing rice in the flood plains. We got off the boat in a village called Kompong Pluk. There were signs of Buddhism and Christianity, but the poverty was obvious.

But the children were having fun – playing in an old boat!!

Or maybe it was a new boat yet to be launched!

This one was left over from the New Year celebrations apparently!

On the way back we saw an interesting indication of the poverty in that a boat passed where the sightseers had thrown bags of dried noodles into the water and children and older women were swimming and boating to get to them to add to the day’s food. A sobering thought when a packet of noodles is a highlight of your day. We saw one woman literally thrust a small child into a life jacket and throw him into the water to go and get a packet of noodles floating past.

We eventually turned for home. Back on dry land, we stopped at a road side vendor selling barbecued frogs, chicken and fish. The frogs were gutted, stuffed with curry and peanuts and cooked. They were surprisingly good – I just hope I don’t live to regret it!

The afternoon was spent back at the hotel. A short rest. A long drink and then off to centre ville for dinner.

Two margaritas later and a power cut and it was time to get a tuk tuk home to bed. Tomorrow a ‘homestay’.