bicycle

Cambodia – along the Mekong, part 1 (Stung Treng)

Posted on by Ginny

“Cambodians life is centred on family, faith and food, an existence that has stayed the same for centuries. Families stick together, solve problems collectively, listen to the wisdom of the elders and pool resources. The extended family comes together during times of trouble and times of joy, celebrating festivals and successes, mourning deaths and disappointments. Whether the Cambodian house is big or small, there will be a lot of people living inside.”

After I read this paragraph from lonely planet I really wanted to spend some time with a family or with a local community. I wasn’t sure how to go about it. Apart from some areas like Siem Reap, Phom Phen and the Kampot region information is hard to come by and impossible to confirm. This was apparent when I decided to explore the northern region of Cambodia. I wanted to visit the mountain regions, to visit the Mekong and also stay in a beautiful environment. I had had enough of cities and large groups of tourists who congregate. I was thinking that the further north/northwest I could travel the chance of gaining a unique view from people who live far away from the hustle and bustle would be a great learning experience. So rather than go west to the islands of Thailand I went north-east. This route is also a favourite route for those wanting to head to 4000 islands and to travel further north in Laos.

When I started to speak to the passengers on the bus from Siem Reap I quickly realised I was the only one who was getting off the bus at Stung Treng and very few had even heard of Kratie. When I arrived I knew I was in a completely different world than the one I had just left. (Siem Reap has become the Archaeologist version of Disneyland)  There wasn’t any drivers waiting at the steps of the bus ready to drag me to their waiting Tuk Tuks. Normally I am surrounded by hoards of drivers screaming in unison wanting to take me and my money. I was also miffed because now I had to lug my bags 650 meters, my walking gait at the time made the a hunchback look like a catwalk model. As I limped  towards my hotel I past the market, it reminded me of places I visited 30 years ago in Africa, overripe fruit, withering veggies and meat that was unrecognisable. I did learn however that many indigenous people kill wild animals because it is seen as valuable food source. This practice is highly policed today and only a few months before I arrived a massive police presence was enforced for anyone selling wild animals. Someone obviously didn’t agree and the market was set on fire. No wonder the place was a mess. When I arrived at my hotel the management were bemused that I would be staying for 3 nights. I found this a little unnerving but I took it on. When I enquired about visiting the surrounding area I was greeted with a puzzled look.  There was the odd organised trip but the price was ridiculous and you needed more than 3 people. The later an impossibility to organise. So with 3 days already booked I decided to make my own travel plans and hire a push bike and forget about trying to organise a visit to more remote regions.  But first I wanted to check out the place and find a spot to watch the sun set along the river.  In my imagination, I could picture sitting on the banks with a beverage and enjoying the serenity of it all.

Stung Treng is a border town, a place to refuel and restock and a place you never see promoted in the travel brochures, my perfect town. As I strolled along the broken boulevard along the Meekong I felt like ET. I was a novelty and at times there seemed to be a million eyes peering at me. However by making eye contact, a warm smile and a wave often eased their fears or curiosity. It was the children who really broke the ice, they would walk with me and ask the only english they knew; What is your name and where are you from? My knowledge of language is appalling so when I attempted to respond I was often met with hysterical laughter. They would also ride their bikes ahead of me, showing the way or challenging me to a race, most just wanted a smile and some sort of recognition. The walk was just stunning, as the sun was setting behind the river, it was a pity that the romance of it was lost when I tried to find a place to sit and take it all in. I eventually found a viewing area next to an industrial dump site, the wedding party also enjoyed the photo opportunity. The walk back was a little further than I had intended and somehow I ended up taking an unfamiliar stroll through the back streets rather than along the river. I could feel the staring eyes watching me as I passed, for a moment I felt I was a character in the Village of the dammed, white eyes popping up behind bushes like fire flies.  It was no surprise as the sun was setting and as the full moon was rising, I felt like calling home.

The bike ride along the Mekong was one of highlights of my time in Cambodia. Like usual where I imagined I could ride compared to my ability was way out of whack. I knew the road along the river was flat so in my mind riding for 20-25 kms one way was doable. Yup, Nup. Sure if I managed to think about the seat before I left I am sure I could have managed a longer ride but riding a male bike with a hard seat did not sit so comfortably. There was also, unbeknown to me the destruction of the land with very few areas that had tree cover, the sun was scorching making a romantic leisurely ride more a race for shade. Additionally, although I had a mountain bike I hadn’t thought about the numerous bridges that were not made for motor or bike riding. Anyway with all of this my journey along this remote road was incredible. There wasn’t a time where people would stand along the road for meet and greet. Local shop owners were happy to refresh my thirsty palette and introduce me to their family and friends. Riding along the empty road at times was peaceful. There was a sense of just me and the river. The only noise was the distant putt putt sound of the motor boats. However that never lasted too long thanks to the Cambodians love of karaoke that filled the air. I love Karaoke but the Cambodians just go that extra mile. I noticed this when I was resting opposite a convenience store, come bar, come family house. Like usual they offered me some food and water and I sat on the rivers edge enjoying the tranquility of it all. That suddenly changed when a group of people showed up including children and women with food. They pulled out the speaker, grabbed the mike and proceed to sing Cambodias top 10 hits. They were so invested in it, a time for family and friends to share each others company rather than working in the hot sun for hours on end. They all knew that later in the day they would be working in the fields again but for a few hours they could forget. I just wish they had the lyrics to a Madonna song, Like a Prayer came to mind. Luckily for them they didn’t.

When I decided to return to Stung Treng I realised I had taken the wrong turn and was riding in a deforested area for 2-3 km’s. The heat was unbearable, I was loosing energy and my backside was screaming so with nothing else to gain I turned around. Now I don’t know what changed when I turned around but all of a sudden my mind started to deteriorate. Rather than enjoying a leisurely ride back I started to wish that I hadn’t ridden as far as had. I couldn’t sit on the seat anymore and I nearly rode the 25km’s back standing on the pedals. My legs were on auto pilot and every bump was agony. I could hear the children calling at me but I couldn’t lift my head, I couldn’t even wave my arm, I just wanted to get back. I do think the last 5 km were the worst, that awful feeling you have when you are just in reach but the ending is still so far away.  By this stage even if I could, I couldn’t even get off the bike, my butt was like a coconut. When I did return I literally fell in my room and for the next few days my lumpy bum certainly paid the price. However when going over my journey and looking at some of the film and photographs I took, the pain was just a result of an amazing trip. Sometimes you have to push yourself to find the greatest reward.

Just a footnote,   (6 months earlier, Stung Treng was ravaged by a major flood caused by a dam wall breaking, killing hundreds and completely inundating the town. this has had a major effect on the morale of the town including townships downstream.  I do make light of my time, but acknowledge the people are suffering and still no sign of compensation.)

Video link

Mekong

 

 

An education from Past to present

Posted on by Ginny

After returning to Bangkok to collect my over weight backpack, I chose a route that would take me to northern Thailand then over the border to Laos. I really wanted to catch the overnight train to Chang Mai however the 2nd class sleepers where booked out for the next few days and I really didn’t want to spend anymore time in Bangkok.  So I took a nine hour bus to Sukhothai instead.  There was of course a bonus, I needed to learn a little about Thailand’s history and the Sukhothai historical park seemed just the place.  Its literal meaning the dawn of happiness’, the capital of the first independent Thai Kingdom in the 13th and 14th centuries.  The park comprises the ruins of royal palaces, Buddhist temples, the city gates, walls, moats and the water dyke control system of ancient Sukhothai.  This would surely help me because of my lack of Asian history.  I spent two days at the site.  Although not as mind blowing as Machu Picu, set up in the Andean mountains, or as vast as the Egyptian Pyramids, the Sukhothai site is still a work in progress so to speak.  Beautifully manicured areas and amazing ruins still being excavated and processed.  Actually the place is so big you really need a push bike to see it all and in retrospect I wish I had done exactly that.  However on one day I walked around the main site and the next I spent strolling around other ruins but most of the day I spent in the museum and it was here that I learnt more than I ever could imagined.  I am often in awe of the people who help reconstruct ancient sites.  I do wonder however why these places always make the ancient life look so idyllic.  Like “let’s make the world great again”.  If u know what I mean.  I also wonder who controls the narrative, as many large artefacts have been recreated.  But maybe that’s just me digging deeper than I should.  Religion and past empires are often shown in some glorified way, so we in the present feel some sense of gratitude.  Don’t get me wrong, The ability to design, then construct such monuments and the array of intricate features from such a long time ago is mind blowing.  I am still not educated enough to understand everything to do with buddhism however here is a link for further information about  the various Sukhothai monuments and features.  I’d rather not try.

Apart from visiting the ruins I decided to get a little more aquatinted with the local area. What a way to do this by riding a bike for a day.  We rode around the lane ways of Sukhothai, meeting local market owners and learning about the use of various foods.  We then road through the farmland a combination of rice fields, tobacco and a range of other vegetables and fruits.  The scorching sun made the ride at times unbearable, I don’t know how the farmers and their workers face up to it day in day out.  If somehow wearing their wide brimmed hats with cloth draped down their neck and back, gives them some sort of relief.  To think that is also meant to be the colder months.  At times we would pull over under the shade of tree just long enough so our sweat would cool us down, then back on the bike pedalling at a decent speed.  I suppose what kept me going was the music the played along our journey.  Every 100  meters or so a loud speaker hung from an electrical pole and sounds of traditional Thai flutes lulled me into a time gone past.  Although I have never been to Thailand in a time gone past.  You could hear it from the rice fields from quite a distance and without me asking I am sure it is a way to help the farmers work in the hot sun.  It certainly helped me continue to pedal.  We eventually made it back onto a main road and 5 km’s further to a house owned by a friend of the tour guide.  It was the first time I had been into a locals house and we weren’t there for a tour, but for lunch.  We must have looked like cooked lobsters as I peeled myself of the seat.  I even had problems trying to organise my thoughts and missed the opportunity to have a hose down.  Not to worry, before I had time to say sà wàt dee I was whisked away and given a towel, a foot bath, herbal tea, fresh water and enough food that I couldn’t lift my leg over the bicycle seat for the ride back.  This was more than I hoped for, especially when we met the rest of the relatives.  After we had finished our lunch we were introduced to the family and excitedly introduced to a young boy.  At first I wasn’t so sure why this boy was special, even though he was very cute.  However before long I realised what all the fuss was about.  I kept on hearing boy girl, boy girl, for a second I thought there was going to be a show with boy girls parading around like in Phuket.  Then to my surprise they were pushing the young boy towards me.  He was fully made up and I was a little envious of his eyebrows.  I was then told that they were very fortunate that their family, a large one at that have a boy girl.  They were very excited for me to meet their special child that all the kids performed a song for us and of course guess who had the staring role.  Not only did he have the starring role but a very spoilt child to boot.  He seemed to have the best of everything, the first and last of everything also.  I was fascinated not because they had a boy girl but maybe because they are revered in similar ways to that of the Fa’afafine’s, who are men raised as girls and identify with that gender in Samoa.  I did notice the night before during the market festival, many boy girls also performing.  They weren’t seen as odd or even left out, the complete opposite.  For a second I wondered why I was so intrigued that there were so many boy girls.  Should I be curious? I was told there were many families all over Thailand that have Boy girls and unlike many countries they were proud and saw themselves are privledged to have a boy girl in their family.  Unlike some of the stories I have heard about the Fa’afafine’s where abuse is often common.  However I must note, was he lucky he had a great family because I am sure just like the Fa’afafine there would also be disturbing stories.  However with this only one experience to go on and the belief that boy girls in Thailand are treated with honour, I was pleased to see an inclusive system of respect.  Finally, as I write this I am wondering why I am writing to you about boy girls, why would you care?  Well one reason is that in our society we often see gender differences as an affliction as a curse, arguing over semantics like what toilet should they go to.  How refreshing it is to travel to a country that doesn’t seem to have this affliction.  Oh and how we could learn so much about how to treat a small group of beautiful people who just want to live their lives like everyone else.

I could continue to write about the bike journey as we cycled at a slower pace along the river.  Riding past rickety homes held up by whimsy poles to protect the houses from the rising water when the river floods, old men repairing their equipment sitting under large trees and women crouched down lighting small coal fires in pots ready to cook dinner.  I could also write about the fisherman we met catching small fish by net as his wife drank a bottle of rice whiskey and danced a better version of my bogan dance.  Or the fun we had at the bar we went to, sipping a Mojito and listening to 1970’s hits like Bonney M.  This was all in a days work and more than I could learn ever from a text book, a newspaper, a documentary or a you tube video.