We are Siamese if you please

We left Siem Reap by fast private taxi, enjoying more lovely rural countryside until after two and a half hours we were dropped off at the border. We had our passports stamped by the Cambodian authorities, then we walked the short distance across No-Man's-Land to the Thai Immigration control, where we obtained our visas and entered Thailand.

With little effort we found a luxury coach to take us to Bangkok where, after a five hour journey, we hoisted our rucksacks and strode the short distance from the bus terminal to the railway station like proper backpackers. We managed to book two berths on the night sleeper train to Chiang Mai, fourteen hours away.

The sleeper train was good fun; a couple of hours in the bar till it closed at 10am, then back to our carriage to find that our seats had miraculously changed into very comfortable bunk beds with spotless white linen. We weren't disturbed by our 48 fellow passengers, and we loved the novelty of falling asleep to the steady rhythm of the train. Sharing one toilet and washbasin with 48 other people over 14 hours presented its challenges, but we got by.

We found a modest but comfortable hotel in the old walled quarter of Chiang Mai, and spent our time wandering in the sunshine around the many ornate temples, browsing the shops, or simply observing the street life. We ate delicious food in this town and one awful meal which had repercussions I won't go into. My big discovery in Chiang Mai was butterscotch daiquiri - mmmmm.

The King of Thailand celebrated his birthday while we were in Chiang Mai - at 82 years young he has the distinction of being currently the longest-reigning living monarch on the planet. Shrines, posters, and hoardings offering congratulations were displayed everywhere, and the festivities, including open-air concerts and spectacular fireworks, lasted about two weeks.

I spent an enjoyable day on a Thai cookery course, which Brian dipped out of at the last minute in favour of a duvet day, citing man flu as his excuse. (I'm still not sure if it was man flu or man u, as our hotel room curiously had an English premiership football channel which endlessly repeated recent matches.)

Templed out after a few days in Chiang Mai, we took a first class bus to Chiang Rai, three hours to the north through mountains and busy rural villages, small-holdings and paddy fields - not as ancient and unspoilt as Cambodian country life, but interesting nonetheless.

In Chiang Rai we hired a car and drove even further north to Sop Ruak, otherwise known as the Golden Triangle. Three borders meet at Sop Ruak; Thailand, Burma, and Laos; and the confluence of the Ruak and Mekong rivers also occurs here, making it an unmissable place to visit.

In days gone by this border area was a desolate and dangerous place, sparsely inhabited and left to the lawless devices of drug overlords smuggling and distibuting opium. An American politician is credited with making first mention of the 'Golden Triangle' in a speech referring to the wealth generated by illegal drug-running. As much of the drug trade was cleaned up, and the rest disappeared underground, the name Golden Triangle stuck to the tourist attraction that took its place.

Huge statues of buddhas and elephants line the road, together with t-shirt shops, handicraft stalls and food outlets - tacky yes, but the serenity and grandeur of the magnificent river views remain untainted, and the good humour and obvious enjoyment of the mainly Asian tourists, coupled with the glorious weather, made it a memorable outing.

Most of northern Thailand along the main highway was surprisingly built-up, however the quieter back roads which we took offered some tempting peeks of mountain and forest. After spending the night in a quiet village resort, we drove up into the hills till we reached the Burma border, which we hugged as long as we could, enchanted by the wonderful landscape of rolling mountains, faraway rivers, bamboo forests and poinsettias as big as trees.

We enjoyed the drama of being stopped at Thai army checkpoints on the border (the Thais try to control the ongoing drug-smuggling problem), and we were allowed to wander around the trenches and sandbanks from more troubled times. The scenery across to Burma - huge mountain ranges and distant rivers - was breathtakingly spectacular, and we were enchanted by this Thailand far removed from the beaches, islands and cities further south.

Numerous ethnic hill-tribes live in these mountains, and we were intrigued by their villages, traditional dress, and primitive homes. The ethnic Chinese in particular have a strong work ethic, and the areas they inhabited were cultivated with tea plantations, orange groves, and fields of crops being tended by bowed workers in their conical hats.

As we drove down from the mountains we entered a national park to see some natural hot springs which featured a very impressive thirty foot geyser, finally returning to Chiang Rai feeling extremely pleased with our few days in Thailand as God intended.

PS - I have lots of photos; trapped at present on a dvd but coming to you as soon as I get the technology.

The Floating Village of Kompong Phluk

We had seven days in Siem Reap, giving us ample time to explore the local countryside as well as catching up on emails, blogging, and planning the next stage of our trip.

Siem Reap is a pleasant enough place to while away a few days, but its main reason for existing is to provide accommodation, food and drink for the thousands of tourists who pass through on their way to the temples.

We spent our fair share of time in the restaurants and bars, and donated daily to a selection of desperate characters such as the ragged little boy who wheeled a blind, wrinkled, toothless old lady (maybe his grandma?) around in a wooden cart. Beggars even approached us inside restaurants, and eventually I had to look in the mirror to see if I had 'ATM' stamped on my forehead.

People-watching other tourists became a favourite pastime here; back-packing twenty-something white boys with dreadlocks, scary serious-looking girls with tattoos, grandads with beer bellies older than their very young and lovely Cambodian girlfriends, and annoying orientals photographing each other, and very often themselves, at every possible opportunity.

One day our tuk tuk driver, Mr Sam Bo, drove us along a bumpy, dusty, red dirt road to a place on the river where we hired a small boat to travel down to a village on the Tonle Sap lake. There are many huge rivers in South East Asia, and Phnom Penh sits on one of them, the Tonle Sap. On its 4000 mile journey from its source in Tibet to the South China Sea, the Mekong, possibly the mightiest of all these rivers, joins the Tonle Sap at Phnom Penh. When the waters of the rainy season fill the Mekong to bank-bursting point, the Mekong pressures the Tonle Sap so hard that its waters actually turn and flow in the opposite direction. Amazing! Anyway, it's true, in August the Tonle Sap river flows north to Siem Reap where it empties out into the vast Tonle Sap lake, the largest lake in South East Asia. The lake teems with enough fish to feed everyone in Cambodia, giving rise to many villages on the banks. Because the water levels vary so dramatically depending whether it's wet or dry season, the resourceful villagers build their homes on very tall stilts to avoid having their homes flooded every year. The photos below give a glimpse into the lives of these 'floating' communities, which we found endlessly diverting.



See the pigs in the pen behind the little boy.

Typical homes on the water.

Brian's next 'screen-saver' when he gets home.

Who needs flushing toilets when you can pee in the river?

Canoes rather than motorbikes are the favoured mode of transport on the lake.

We fell for the charity mugging when we got off the boat to walk round the part of the village that was built on higher ground. Two little girls separated me from ten dollars 'to buy books and pencils for the poor children who can't afford them'. They then invited us into the school to see their classmates.

From Phnom Penh to Siem Reap

It wasn't possible for us to hire a car in Cambodia, but no matter, travelling by luxury bus, the Mekong Express, was a delight. Comfortable seats, refreshments, a hostess, and clean toilets were all part of the service.

Once we were on the road north of Phnom Penh and out in the countryside, we found the South East Asia of my imagination. Peasants wearing traditional garments of handwoven cotton and conical hats (or the occasional Man U shirt) toiled in the fields; following a plough pulled by a water buffalo, tending the brilliant electric green rice paddies, gathering corn cobs for the market.

Simple homes lined the roadside, usually wooden, palm-thatched houses on stilts, while chickens, ducks, pigs and goats fussed with their young and scratched around for scraps in the yard. Each small-holding seemed to have a pond (handy for the ducks), often with a huge drift of gorgeous, bold lotus flowers or deep pink long-stemmed water lilies.

I like to find my developing countries as they have looked down the ages since the beginning of time, and I wasn't disappointed on this journey. Sadly, I haven't got any pictures of this bucolic bliss, as I found out that photos taken from bus windows are spoilt by reflections and traffic coming the other way.

The Mekong Express considerately stopped for us to stretch our legs and buy fast food snacks from the market in the town of Khomphong Thom. Mmmmm, these mixed bugs look tasty - - - - -



- - - or shall we go for the deep-fried tarantula?

Can't wait to see which delight Brian finally selected.

Angkor What?

Most visitors to Cambodia are eager to see the remains of the vast cities of civilizations that date back to the beginning of the 12th century, and in particular their impressive temples, not far from Siem Reap. We spent two days touring the ruins in a tuk tuk. This photo is a reminder that the ancient temples are still places of worship for today's Buddhists.

This is the only picture I'm publishing of Angkor Wat. The buildings were majestic, beautifully restored and preserved, and the stone carvings were intricate and beautiful, however we couldn't get over the disappointment of seeing this wonderful monument covered in scaffolding, and having our photo opportunities ruined! Also, the clang of hammer on steel destroyed what might have been a lovely peaceful ambience. The view in this photo is one of the few angles from which the restoration work was not visible.

This is me at Angkor Thom, with one of the lady statues. Angkor Thom was much more cosy and atmospheric than Angkor Wat, and we felt more at home in its less pristine surroundings.

OK, I lied, here is another photo from Angkor Wat, showing the incredible detail of the carvings.

Angkor Thom again.

Brian relaxing on a convenient tree root - it was very hot and humid here.

Now for some photos from our favourite site, Ta Phrom, which has been left to the ravages of the jungle. Massive spong trees and strangler figs have intermingled their roots with the stone walls of the temples and grown to a mighty size through the fallen structures. These ruins were magical, mystical, sensational. The stone caught the afternoon light to display the ageing colours of green and pinky red, and the effect was stunning. I can't wait to watch Lara Croft, Tomb Raider, as soon as I get home, just to remind me of this fabulous place.

Cheesy pose from me, but it gives an idea of the size of these fabulous trees.

See the colours of the stone, and the sturdiness of this ancient building.

Will the tree eventually win the battle and swallow up all trace of mankind? Or will a structure that has withstood eight hundred years of nature's battering prevail? Answers on a postcard please (but don't bother to send it - we haven't got an address).

Click to enlarge this photo and see the beautiful lady peeping out of the tree trunk. Isn't she something? Better than the Mona Lisa!

We had to stop for fuel for our tuk tuk on the way back - this is a filling station Siem Reap style. (Mr Sam An, our tuk tuk driver in Phnom Penh, kept a few litre bottles of fuel under the passenger seat, giving rise to the uncomfortable feeling that, as we rattled and bumped over the unmade roads, we were sitting on a Molotov cocktail.)

More tussling between tree and stone.

Brian is thinking of switching careers - from selling hearing aids to driving a tuk tuk could be a good move.

Posing in Phnom Penh

The venerable Brian with one of the many Buddha images in the grounds of the Royal Palace at Phnom Penh.

Dodging the terrifying traffic to cross the road in Phnom Penh is the closest I've come to being stressed in the last four months. The manager at our guest house gave me the following advice: "step out confidently into the traffic and don't falter, the motorcycles will weave round you. Don't look behind you; it's up to them not to hit you. Don't step in front of the Landcruisers with tinted windows - they are driven by crimelords and they will run you down". Imagine trying that in Picadilly Circus.




Hand-weaving beautiful silk cloth is a traditional art in Cambodia, and the quality is superb. Several NGOs (non governmental organisations) have helped single mothers by harnessing their weaving talents and marketing their exquisite wares, ensuring they have a regular income to support their families.

What's the story, Morning Glory? Morning Glory is a spinach-like vegetable which is grown in the flood plains around Phnom Penh after the rainy season. It appears on most menus, and is delicious steamed or fried. Every meal we ate in Phnom Penh was delicious; most Khmer dishes inlude flavourings such as ginger, tamarind, coconut, mint, lemongrass and kaffir lime leaves, and a new ingredient to us was shredded banana blossom - yummy.

This block of flats may not look much, but it's more of a home than many of the shanties in this city. Although Phnom Penh, with its old colonial buildings, wide avenues, up-market souvenir shops, and low-rise attractive skyscape, is a pleasant place for a tourist to while away a few days, grinding poverty and human suffering are always in evidence. It's impossible to walk around without being approached by a beggar; man, woman or child. Many of these beggars are disabled - 1 in every 250 people in Cambodia is an amputee largely as a result of landmines - and it's very hard not to feel desperately sorry for them as you put your hand in your pocket for a few riels.

Drawing attention to the usual huge gap between rich and poor in the world's developing countries, here is a picture of one of the lovely buildings in the Royal Palace complex. Next door is the Silver Pagoda, so-called because it has a floor of solid silver tiles. Unfortunately some of the tiles are the worse for wear, and a donation box is prominently displayed by the door with a sign asking visitors to give generously to help with the restoration. (That's another point - the only time signs in South East Asia are in English is when they are asking for money.)

Anyway, it was a tough decision - a couple of dollars for a man with no arms so his family could eat that day, or a few bob to help the king maintain his palace?

The Khmers (ethnic Cambodians) have suffered horribly over the last fifty years as a result of civil war, political corruption, and the unspeakably wicked regime of the Khmer Rouge under the evil Pol Pot. The photo shows the monument at the Killing Fields just outside the city, where mass executions and burial took place after the innocent citizens of Cambodia were systematically rounded up and tortured between 1975-79. It's unsettling to think that while I was busying myself expecting my first child (little Joseph, aaah!) in rural England, in another corner of the world whole families were being driven from their homes in the cities and towns of Cambodia to die from starvation, disease, malnutrition or the brutality of the Khmer Rouge soldiers.

Brian giving the goats a helping hand to reach the leaves on the lower branches, still at the Killing Fields, which, together with the Genocide Museum, remain open to the public in memory of the ordinary citizens who died so horribly at the hands of their own people.

Photos from Sihanoukville

My kind of seashore, at Victory Beach, Sihanoukville.

Many poor people in Cambodia don't have a permanent home. They live their lives on the roadside or riverbank, cooking, eating and washing outdoors, and sleep wherever they can build some sort of shelter.

Walking isn't a popular form of transport with the working class, and every family aspires to own at least one motorcycle. On acquiring this precious vehicle, the family then proceeds to use it like a Landrover. The rule seems to be; never leave home without as many people, animals, and packages as possible crammed on.


Getting a few beers in for the weekend.

The Buddhist temple at Sihanoukville.

One of the many Buddha images in the temple grounds.

The young man on the left has just bought his first car. The monk is blessing the car with holy water for good luck and keeping the driver safe (the way Cambodians drive, they need more than a monk's blessing to keep them safe).

Three monks minimum to a motorcycle - it's uphill to the temple!

Even the senior monk has to roll his sleeves up and wield a power screwdriver when running repairs are needed.

Who needs a flatbed truck when you can customise your motorbike?

The Royal Kingdom of Cambodia

First impressions of Cambodia? - dust, dirt, debris, and grinding poverty.

As soon as we stepped out of the airport and jumped into an old Toyota for the four hour journey to Sihanoukville, we knew we had arrived in a desperately poor and backward part of the world.

Our driver whisked us through Phnom Penh's suburbs, the streets lined with ramshackle shanty homes, ragged or naked children playing in the filthy open drains, and dogs scrabbling through mounds of rotting rubbish.

As we left the outskirts of the city behind however, the scenery became less depressing, and we began to see the modest wooden homes of poor people who could eke a living from farming, side by side with the grand, brick-built villas of wealthier neighbours who had found their way out of poverty.

Although small and unassuming, Sihanoukville is Cambodia's leading seaside resort, and we were intent on spending as much time as possible doing as little as possible, in the sun, on the beach, or in the pool. Oh yes, and in the bar.

Luckily for us we'd picked the perfect guest house, and we had five days of perfect hot but not punishing sunshine, a clean tempting pool right beside our room, and a pleasing little bar that served delicious food.

Wracked by guilt at our sloth one day, we hired a tuk tuk to drive us round Sihanoukville's sights, which as expected were few, and we were soon back by the pool. In the interests of objective reporting, we had a look at most of the beaches that surround the town, and saw palm-fringed golden expanses of sand with the clear blue waters of the Gulf of Thailand lapping invitingly on the shore.

From Sihanoukville we took the express bust to Cambodia's capital, Phnom Penh, of which more very soon, hopefully with photos.