Distance Traveled: 14,815 kms (BNE-MEL-SYD-BKK-PKT-BKK-CNX-BKK-PP-SR-BB-PP)
Flags Collected: 0
Time Difference: -3 hours (from Brisbane)
Time Difference: -3 hours (from Brisbane)
Soundtrack: Burt Bacharach (hence the blog title)
Currently Inspired by: One of my all time favourite quotes that someone recently reminded me of: “When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that Happiness was the
key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be
when I grew up. I wrote down “Happy”. They told me I didn’t understand
the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.” John Lennon.
Stacks: None. Am sensing a pattern.
Words written: 13,899  |
| Cambodian countryside about Battambang |
I left wee Battambang on Monday, and caught the bus from
hell. The only way it could have been
worse would be if it had been a bus TO hell.
Hot, stuffy, uncomfortable, tiny little amounts of leg room so I was
cramped the entire time, my knees were pushed into the seat back in front which
was covered with previous passenger’s discarded chewing gum, then the guy in
front of me lay his seat back (I have bruises from this), the curtains smelt
like onions for some inexplicable reason, the driver never let the horn rest
for the entire drive and also insisted on playing these irritatingly squawky
Asian tv shows at full volume on a tiny tv near the front. I endured this for three and half hours or so
and then was unceremoniously booted off on a dusty little street in this teeny
tiny town called Kampong Chhnang. I had
motorbike drivers swarming around me, attempting to take me, my suitcase and
backpack on a bike, but I eventually found a tuk tuk and said “take me to a
hotel”, and ended up at basically the hotel equivalent of the bus I’d just
escaped from. No power, no internet, shabby old room, no food, and a long walk
down a dusty road and past the local prison (lovely) to get into “town” which
was simply characterised by a lot more dust flying everywhere from the
increased traffic. I’m beginning to
understand why so many people here wear masks all the time! Despite not having had a cigarette for several
months, I have quite a nasty cough.
Having said all of the above, once I accepted that this was
the way it was going to be, I was perfectly content. It’s always exciting being somewhere new, and
now that I’m relaxing by degrees and not taking life as seriously as I used to,
I can laugh about these things. Circumstances
such as the above do make for funny blogs as well. I’m beginning to realise that you can visit
and explore a new town every few days for the rest of your life and never see a
hundredth of the world. It’s so freaking
big! Even the small countries are
big. We never do anywhere properly
really, unless we live there. And there
are plenty of restaurants and parks and scenic spots and clubs in Brisbane that
I’ve still never been to, and I was born and raised there.
Being forced outside due to lack of power was actually a
great thing, because I met a kiwi mother and daughter who were here on a
charitable trip with Habitats for Humanity (laws of attraction, huh?) and were
now in the holiday portion of their visit. So we went
out for a lovely dinner and chat, and met again for breakfast in the morning before
they headed off. I then caught a bike to
the docks where a tiny little Vietnamese woman paddled me around some floating
villages in a mini sandpan. Remember I
said from the boat on the way to Battambang I saw the floating villages and the
fishermen in those little boats that I was certain I would fall out of? That’s what I saw, and rode in. I didn’t QUITE fall out, but I gave it my
best shot :)
The boat and villages were pretty cool but I felt that same
level of discomfort that I experienced in the long neck village in Thailand. Paying money to go and peer at other humans
like they’re in a zoo is just not my style.
So I looked around and waved to the kids and caught the kisses they blew
me (too cute) but if I could see adults in their homes I would quickly look
away. Once we got back I required the loo,
didn’t know if there was one and had to have a very interesting game of
charades with my boat lady who didn’t know what “toilet”, “restroom”, “ladies”,
or “bathroom” meant. It brought back
nightmarish Paris flashbacks for those of you who remember my Nurofen
story. I was sure they were just having
me on so they could make me mime it and laugh at me! Travel tip: as well as learning how to say “please”,
“thank you”, “hello” and “goodbye” in the native language every time you
travel, learn how to say “toilet”.
Following the boats my bike driver Sari, a very very funny
guy, picked me up again and we went riding through a nearby village that is
full of people who make pottery. So we
stopped at a few shops / homes and watched them making it which was actually
pretty cool. I got to chat to some of
the local villagers with Sari acting as a translator so it was a perspective I
hadn’t experienced so far in the trip.
Most of the women wanted to know why I wasn’t married and didn’t have children,
and how I was brave enough to travel on my own.
I discovered that saying “I don’t want to get married” doesn’t cut it
here. They either don’t understand the
concept of not wanting to be married, or don’t see what wanting to get married
has to do with actually getting married, I don’t know.
Bored and hot is not a good combination. However this is the position in which I found
myself that afternoon. I had pretty much
done everything touristy there was to do in the town at this point, so I headed
back to the room to do some writing, and surprise surprise, there was no
power. It’s amazing really, because the
first time I travelled I didn’t have a computer or access to wireless internet,
a phone that only made calls and texted, and I was completely fine with just
checking my emails whenever I could get to a cafe. But these days? Stick me in a room without air con, wifi or
the ability to write on a laptop (I have a pen and paper) and suddenly I have
no idea how to entertain myself. No one
else was at the hotel so there was no conversation to be had. I sat and tapped my fingers for a few minutes
and then decided to give my boring Pol Pot textbook another shot. Three pages in, I was snoring. You know when you fall asleep during the day
in the heat, and you don’t sleep properly?
I had one of those nasty sleeps and woke up an hour later, drenched in
sweat, mouth like the bottom of a bird cage and still with no power. Pleasant.
That night Sari came and picked me up again and took me to a
restaurant a few kilometres out of town.
Another lesson was learned – if you are riding a bike at night without a
helmet, you will get many bugs in your hair / eyes / mouth. I was full by the time we got there! Just kidding.
They had a karaoke machine playing but no microphone, so they were
actually using it as background music.
It was a good meal, we had fun and a couple of beers, and then headed
back. All in all I’m glad I stopped in
Kampong Chhnang. I got to see things and
meet people I wouldn’t have otherwise.
Would I go back? Probably not.
I have spent the last four days in Phnom Penh, and joy of
joys I have been unwell again. As my
mother rather astutely pointed out “You might love Cambodia, but Cambodia doesn’t
really love you!” This is true. However, as I have said before, I’d rather be
here and unwell, than feeling fine physically but back in the cube. Yesterday was the first day I felt up to
going out so I headed to the north of the city to visit the Somaly Mam shelter,
something I have been dying to do.
Unfortunately, they don’t work on Sundays, so I couldn’t go in! The guy I spoke to sent me to their office a
few streets away to talk to someone else, which I did and got to meet two of
the girls who were just incredibly lovely.
However they had the same thing to say, and couldn’t even take a
donation on site. They said “come back
to tomorrow!” meaning today, however I am leaving for Vietnam in an hour and
wouldn’t have had time to get out there, spend some decent time and come
back. Pretty gutted, but trying to be
pragmatic about it. I’ll be back to
Cambodia anyway, and with any luck Somaly isn’t going ANYWHERE.
If you would like to know more about her work here, there is
an incredible documentary about child sexploitation called Redlight, which
showcases her work alongside a female politician here, and some rescued
girls. It’s informative and interesting,
although harrowing at times. You can
watch the entire doco in five parts on YouTube.
Click here to open up part one.
I do have a few photos from KC, but haven’t had time to
upload, so I’ll pop them on facebook in the next few days and then include the
link in my next blog.
Goodbye Cambodia, it's been wonderful! Helloooo Vietnam.
Til next we speak,
*LOVE*
N
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