Pakse and Motorbike Adventure on the Bolaven Plateau

The boat and bus trip from Si Phan Don was an uneventful four-hour affair. Upon arrival at the Pakse bus station in the afternoon, we hitched a ride in something that wasn't quite a tuktuk, but rather a moto with a rickety homemade sidecar into which Lauren and I managed to squeeze ourselves and our bags. The ride was jarring. We checked into the Sabaidy Guesthouse and spent the rest of the evening drinking the best coffee I've had yet (it's grown in the highlands near here), walking around town, and getting some local food.

The next morning, February 16, we awoke around 7:00 a.m. and walked down the street to rent a couple motorbikes (we thought it might be better to not keep our proverbial eggs in one basket and instead get two bikes; they were only about $6 per day anyhow). We took a quick ride through town to get some breakfast and more of that stellar coffee, then followed our map and headed for high ground.

The Bolaven Plateau is a region near Pakse with lush green hills that is set a couple thousand feet higher than the rest of the area. We headed up the highway towards Salaven and sped up a bit on the desolate and smooth road. The journey through here was highlighted by small villages and coffee plantations with the backdrop of the Plateau off to our right. The dusty land turned greener and we passed the occasional mountain stream.

After about two hours and 85km, we reached our principle destination for the day, the Tat Lo waterfalls, which is a series of three waterfalls within about 8 km of each other. After hiking a short ways to the second of these cascades (and witnessing a comical old white couple riding an elephant that looked like it was about to dump them in the river), we returned to the parked bikes just in time to see a teenager opening the gas cap to my bike, holding two empty water bottles. He walked away sheepishly and we left with plenty of gas (and that's why you always lock your seat cover).

After a quick lunch in one of the restaurants in the small village near the falls, we headed back up the road towards the third of the falls, Tat Suong. This was by far the most impressive and must have been about 150 feet tall. In the wet season I'm sure the water roars over the edge, but now, nearing the end of the dry season, there is a mere trickle pouring over, and at least half of what flows over gets blown back up in a swirl of mist by the winds rushing up the cliff face. After walking back up the steep slope to the bikes, we headed to the nearest village to fill up the two liter gas tanks so we could take the long way home.

We headed off in the other direction away from Pakse until we reached another highway that headed up further into the highlands. We saw the best scenes of the day on this 125 km stretch back to Pakse as we passed remote villages where the people seemed more intrigued by us. The kids walking back from school all waved and yelled joyful greetings (or perhaps cheeky insults) and we smiled and waved back.

The mountain scenery was beautiful up here, and for the first time in SE Asia I felt cold. The afternoon ride home was peaceful, and once again I had the feeling that this truly is the best way to get off the tourist track and see the country. Lazy clouds rolled across the azure sky and I got that sense of adventure in me that I don't usually feel in the cities or around other travelers.

I was brought back to Earth from these joyful heights when near the end of the 200+ km journey I pulled off the highway to use the bushes, a bit too abruptly, and skidded out on the gravel shoulder (and that's why you always come to a complete stop before pulling into the gravel). I took a nice belly slide into the grass and gravel shoulder but was not injured, aside from some minor abrasions on my hand and a sore thumb. I knew it couldn't be that bad when Lauren pulled up and laughed at me. And kids: that's why you don't try to learn how to ride a motorbike in a foreign country. Don't worry mom and dad, I don't think any of the places north of here rent motorbikes to tourists. I'll just have to get my license when I get back to the States.

We rode cautiously back into the small city of Pakse and returned the bikes (after I removed the grass from the spokes and straightened the front basket). Exhausted from the all-day trip, we had dinner and retired to our room.

Our final day in Pakse we were planning to leave early in the morning for Tha Khaek to begin an arduous three day trek to the allegedly impressive Kong Lo Cave. We decided over coffee that morning, however, that it would be best to regretfully abort that mission so we could spend more time in the North of Lao(s) before Lauren has to return to BKK on 3/30. So we booked an overnight bus to the capital, Vientiane, for that night departing at 8:00 p.m. and explored a bit more of Pakse, stopping at the post office and a Mekong riverfront restaurant and otherwise just tramped around for a while.

And that's the entry folks. We now are in Vientiane (say: Vien-chan).

And for today's study guide:

Please answer the following questions individually and then discuss in groups of 4-6 people:

1. In your opinion, how has the advent of the internet facilitated travel to remote regions of the world?

2. When motorbiking in Laos, what three items (at least) should you always remember to bring and use?

3. To which place in the world would you most like to go? Would you rather get there by teleportation or bicycle/pedalboat? Why?

Into Laos PDR: Si Phan Don, AKA: Mekong Archipelago

When it came time to leave Phnom Penh, Lauren and I bought a ticket each for the only reasonable way to get between that city and the Laos border: The nice gringo bus. For about eleven hours we traveled the rough single lane roads through minor cities in northeastern Cambodia. There wasn't much to do besides sleep and stare at the passing stilt-home communities.

The border was a breeze as the bus driver handled all the visas and passports. You can see the progress of the tourist trade in Laos here. Only a few months ago you could not receive a visa upon arrival at this remote crossing (Don Kralor). Now both countries are constructing large new immigration offices here. As for now, it is only two small shacks and a counter-balanced pole acting as the gate between nations.

Just over the border, now past sunset, we disembark along the road at the turnoff to Si Phan Don, or, the Four Thousand Islands of the Mekong. We jump into the back of a covered flatbed truck for transport down a dark and dusty road, choking on dust, to the shores of the Mekong, where we board a long-tail boat and travel the shallow expanse of the dry season Mekong to the small island of Don det, a budding attraction for travelers. A few years ago, there was nothing on any of these islands besides small villages that relied on fishing for income. Now two of the islands, Det and Khon, have small traveler villages with bungalows on the water and a minor variety of restaurants.


It was at one of these places that Lauren and I each rented our own bungalow, complete with bed, mosquito net, and porch with hammocks. Don Det is a lazy place where one with a less restless spirit could hole up and lay in hammocks for a few weeks straight. We did a bit of that but also chose to explore the area.

Our first full day in this place we rented some tiny bicycles and set about riding the length of Don Det (about 2 km), crossing the old French railroad bridge to the neighboring island of Don Khon, and riding the legth of that island as well. At the far end of Khon there is an old pier where you can look across the Mekong into Cambodia. At certain times of day there is supposed to be a pod of Irawaddy river dolphins that chills out here, but you can only really see them by boat.


We rode back up to the West side of the island where we saw a modest beach and later a large cataract waterfall that was quite impressive even in the dry season. From the falls we were able to locate a small swimming hole for a quick bath in the Mekong.


After filling up with some noodle soup near the bridge on Khon, we headed back to Det to get some hammock rest on our porches and enjoy the sunset and the soothing (or perhaps headache-inducing) sound (roar?) of the cicadas in the large tree on a nearby island. After that was dinner and an unfortunate incident at a riverside bar which I will try to cautiously describe.


Before going to bed, we decided to grab a drink. I ordered a straight laolao (a local rice whiskey) while Lauren felt adventurous and ordered the "Happy Laolao" cocktail because we had been seeing it on many of the menus in town. When the waitress mistakenly brought us two of the cocktails, I did not contest. It was a mix of laolao, lime juice, sugar, and some sort of crushed leafy material that I thought might be basil. We ignorantly drank up.

Without going int0 a full account of the next few hours, I will just say that when you order anything with the word "happy" in it in SE Asia, expect that you might end up more than just refreshed, with an effect that I will just call some type of food poisoning (for our younger readers). It was an interesting night nonetheless.


Due to the Happy Laolao incident, the next day was a bit of a wash. As it was our last day in Si Phan Don, and we had already seen the typical tourist sights, we resigned ourselves to drinking fruit shakes (not of the happy variety) and laying about in the shade. That is, after all, the best way to enjoy Don Det. The next day we caught a boat and a bus north to Pakse.


In my short time in Laos, I have seen how it is still a bit pristine, perhaps too much so for its own good. In Thailand and Cambodia, you are often being bombarded with sales pitches and offers for tuktuk rides. Not so here. The people are laid back and unpretentious, and things move a bit more slowly. When at first we arrived here and realized how every place we went to eat, the service was slow and terrible, my frustration quickly turned into enchantment. The fact that the people here do not cater to the western desire for snappy and attentive service is something special. It reminds me a bit of being in El Salvador. The Lao people are still relatively unjaded by the traveler, and therefore you often experience more genuine interactions with the Lao than you normally would in the traveler haunts of Thailand or Cambodia. I have seen nary a beggar or salesman here.

I know with near certianty that in a few years, places like Don Det will be much more overrun. This place is too good, too genuine and nice for the tourists not to colonize it. You can see the change in the riverside construction projects 9still modest at least) and newly paved roads.

It is the way of the traveler though. In the quest for genuine experiences off the beaten track, we beat down the track a bit more, thus making it easier and more accessible for the next wave of travelers. Slowly it changes from the adventurous travelers who are trying to escape the travel-party scene of Siem Reap or Thailand, to the travelers who will only come to a place after it has become well established and easy to access by comfortable modes of transportation.

Change happens though and we should not fear it too much, and while it might make the Laos experience less genuine for the adventurous traveler, perhaps it will help the locals gain some more independence financially, if not culturally. Perhaps in a few years, the Burmese government will begin to allow more access, then we will have a whole new nation of fresh meat after Laos has been decisively colonized by the traveler's dollar.

That is my rant for the day. I hope you enjoyed it. I am currently writing this in Pakse and my sister and I will be taking an overnight bus to Vientiane tonight. For our next adventure installment: Pakse and the Bolaven Plateau via Motorbike.

And Dan: to greet someone in Laos, you say "Sa-bai-di"; thank you is "Khawp Jai". "Don" is island and "Si Phan" is 4,000. Have fun with that.

Phnom Penh and Farewell to Cambodia

The bus from Siem Reap was uneventful, though I enjoyed watching the bus overtake tractors, motorcycles with trailers, ox-pulled carts and even the occasional Mercedes (the Mercedes drivers must be the government officials). After navigating rush hour traffic in P.P., the bus arrived at the end of the line about seven hours after departure. I quickly negotiated a fare with one of the moto drivers who was bombarding me and hopped on the back of the bike, bags and all, and was zipped through traffic to the Nomad's Guesthouse on St. 108, where I saw my sister Lauren upon pulling up to the place (she having arrived a couple hours prior on a flight from Bangkok).


After our brief reunion and awkward hug, we dropped my bags in the room and set about finding a place to eat. We walked down to the place where the Tonle Sap River meets the Mekong and I caught my first glimpse of that mighty river, which is just a wide swath of nearly tepid water by the time it reaches Phnom Penh. Hopefully a couple months from now I will stand far upriver, somewhere near Tibet.

We settled down for some food and Angkor at a local eatery off of the main tourist drag where we could find some reasonable prices. After just a few hours enjoying our drinks street side, we ambled off to catch some sleep.


The next day was an uneventful day of rest and Lauren and I explored a bit of the neighborhood and climbed to the tallest "hill" in all of P.P., which must have been at least 8 meters high! We enjoyed the minor temple on top and the monkeys around the park. The locals got a laugh out of our fascination with these city inhabitants, for whom they must have about the same level of interest as we do for squirrels.


Our final day in Phnom Penh was full of emotionally draining exercises in the history of the Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia. In 1976, or some time around then, the Khmer Rough attempted a radical forced change in Cambodian society. They evacuated all of the city inhabitants to rural areas in an effort to start a nation-wide agrarian cooperative. While the idea of an agrarian coop sounds pretty non threatening to me, what really made the three years of the Khmer Rouge so horrific were the Nazi-like torture, genocide of minority groups (in order to have a more uniform society), and the the imprisonment and execution of anyone deemed a threat to the new social order; namely intellectuals, or anyone they thought to be an intellectual or enemy of the state. Pretty strange for a regime run by rich intellectuals who had learned Marxism during their studies in Europe.

Our tour of this history began at the Killing Fields, a site about 15 km outside of the city where prisoners were taken to be executed. The victims were men and women of all ages. The regime decided that it was safer for them to kill the whole family of their alleged enemies, rather than risking later revenge being taken upon them by their victims' descendants. We saw where the prisoners were brought in by truck, housed overnight, then where they were killed, usually by blunt force trauma, and buried in mass graves. In the center of this seemingly peaceful field is a giant stupa (tower) displaying some of the skulls of the many thousands who were killed here. The rest of the site is mainly a series of mass graves, some of which have been excavated and the human remains have been exhumed, and some where there are still tatters of clothing and bone fragments exposed at the surface of the packed soil. Walking in these places, I felt an energy go through me that I can't quite explain.


We went on to read the history of the three years of the Khmer Rouge regime, and the subsequent decades of KR rebels holding out in the hills and finally the beginnings of the prosecution overseen by the International Criminal Court. After leaving the fields, we went to Prison S21, a place where enemies of the state were tortured until "confessing" to transgressions against the new order. We saw the pens where they were held and the devices with which they were tortured. After the prisoners were expunged of all the information that could be gotten from them, they were sent to the Killing Fields for a near certain execution.


Studying the history of this regime and the ongoing criminal proceedings against them, I was forced to reflect on my own background in the criminal defense field. The ICC proceedings represent an area of criminal law that I have never really thought of. Whereas I usually think of criminal defense as representing the lowly and disadvantaged, the ones who usually have little power in society, the Khmer Rouge trials represent, at least on the surface, the heinous crimes of those who had the most power. It is harder to reconcile this with my own ideals.

However, near the end of the tour of the prison, we did see some firsthand accounts of members of the Khmer Rouge regime. They often voice a sentiment that they began fighting for what they saw as a good cause, and by the time they realized the brutality of their employer, they had two choices: to obey orders or be killed themselves (probably along with their families as well). These people of course include the ones who were carrying out the brutal acts.

I suppose though that the only way a society can properly deal with those people who have done the most to damage the ideals of human decency, is to deal with them in an orderly and just way. I can understand the sentiment of those who suffered the most though, who often state that all the old leaders should just be killed rather than undergoing the lengthy and imperfect trial process. It was a day full of philosophical reflections, to say the least.


Moving on, we headed back to our side of town, bought tickets to Laos for the morning, and got some tasty Indian food. We calmly said farewell to Cambodia and set off for Laos on a nice bus in the morning. I have rather enjoyed Cambodia, spending about ten days here. It is easy to travel here because everyone seems to speak English so well (much better here than in Thailand). I have never seen someone get visibly angry or upset and hope to come back here one day.

Laos holds much excitement though, and I look forward to getting to know that place. In the next chapter: Si Phan Don.

Siem Reap and Such

I got myself stuck in Siem Reap for five nights, enjoying the companionship of fellow travelers. The plan had originally been to spend one full day here, allowing me to see the nearby ruins of Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom, before spending two full days traveling to Saigon in Vietnam and meet a friend who lives there. My plans were foiled by the fifty cent draught pints and my realization that this place required more than one day to enjoy.

My first full day in this place I wandered around aimlessly with an Aussie traveler that I met on the boat from Battambang, Zoe. We met a couple British couples that night and spent a few hours enjoying the area known commonly as "Pub Street". These were some real quality people and I enjoyed hearing about Rob's travels in Cambodia five years prior and his reflections on how things had changed since then. The travel industry has really taken off in the last half decade, and many of the paved roads connecting the cities were not even asphalted until a couple years ago.

Day two here was also quite mundane. It was enjoyable to me and full of experiences that wouldn't be justly conveyed in a blog post. The next morning, Zoe and I rented some bikes for the day and rode the six kilometers north to Angkor Wat, supposedly the largest religious structure on the planet. Braving the hordes of other tourists, we crossed the bridge over the huge moat and entered the West Gate of the man-made island. We explored the bas-relief outer walls of the temple and concentric square structures of the inner temple.


We later rode on to Angkor Thom, the city just 2 km north of the wat. Some several hundred years ago, this was a Khmer city of about a million people, filled with wooden homes and other structures surrounding the rock temples. The wooden structures have long since collapsed and decayed, and all that now remains are the stone buildings, the most impressive of which is the Bayon, a huge square temple filled with huge sculpture of faces built into the walls and apexes.


Seeing ruins always feels a bit tedious to me. At a certain point you begin to wander around dumbfounded, knowing full well that the rock structures you are seeing are all wonderful and grand, but failing to be able to muster any enthusiasm. I tried to picture the great civilization that once stood here and see the rows of houses and crowds of city dwellers, but I seemed to fall short.


However there was one final places that did bring about a sense of wonder in me. We rode on to the ruins of Ta Phrom, another temple structure from the 12th century or so. Archaeologists chose this particular ruin for a different project. Rather than clearing away the trees and foliage that covered all these places when the French first "discovered" them, and repairing the damage that had been done by the centuries, they instead left the place relatively untouched. As a result, there are centuries-old trees growing over the walls with tentacle-like roots grasping the sandstone blocks. The bas-relief walls are colored by moss and there are blocks lying haphazardly about.


What I loved about this ruin is that it was truly a ruin. It was not cleared up and rebuilt for the tourists. Seeing the work that nature had done to claim this place back into the jungle gave me the truest impression of the years that had passed. It made me ponder what our own great cities and man-made wonders will look like once they have been 800 years since abandoned. I've heard that some parts of Detroit are already being reclaimed by the elements. Satisfied with ourselves, we pedaled slowly back to town as a thunderstorm ominously rumbled behind us.

My last day in Siem Reap was another lazy one. I bought my bus ticket to Phnom Penh for the next day, March 9, where I would meet my sister Lauren. I met back up with the two British couples that I had befriended three days prior. We saw a traditional Khmer show, a sort of musical with all types of masks and costumes. The performance was done by the children of one of the many local orphanages for donations. I was pretty impressed by their acting and dancing skills. After the show the kids eagerly practiced their English with us and we were infected by their joyful nature. It was nice to get a glimpse of kids being kids here, as most encounters with Cambodian children have been with the ones that sell postcards or trinkets for some hidden boss that collects their earnings.

After one more stint on Pub Street, I went to bed, happy with my stay here. And then it was on on to the capital the next morning to see the familiar face of my sister. And that's where we now sit, safe and sound.

Riverboat to Siem Reap

Awaking at 6:30 a.m., I groggily shouldered my bags and made my way to the hotel lobby. Waiting for the shuttle to the boat ramp, I and a fellow passenger, a Turkish-German girl who had lived in the States, bought some sweet bread from a local bakery and returned to board the mini-bus. The boat ramp was only right down the road, but this boat is a bit traveler-oriented and they insist on providing full service. Down the ramp we went to the shallow river, which was barely a trickle due to this being the dry season. I and my traveling companion for the day sat near the front away from the engine.

The river boat between Battambang and Siem Reap is supposed to be one of the highlights of any visit to Cambodia, though most people opt for the bus between the two places, which takes about 3 hours as opposed to the 6-12 hours that the boat takes (the journey is much longer in the dry season). I chose the boat however, excited for the prospect of gaining a different perspective of this place and for the journey through a protected wetland. The vessel is a long wooden thing that seems to be sort of thrown together. This particular one was painted in all blue and had an awning over the top of it.


Shortly after sunrise, we were underway. We passed riverside villages where the houses were all on stilts. The villagers, dressed in a sarong, were out bathing in the silty brown river. We also encountered other boat travelers, in canoe-like vessels with small two-stroke engines attached haphazardly to the stern. Children waved at us from the villages and passing boats with vigor and we happily returned their greetings.


We moved into a more desolate stretch of the river, which began to narrow and lose depth. The driver would floor the accelerator around the bends, trying to avoid beaching the boat, which usually happened anyways. As we became stuck on sandbars, the two young boys at the bow would attempt to push off with a giant bamboo pole, an imperfect method.


About two hours into the journey, the engine stalled and failed to reignite. We came to rest against the river bank as the driver became the mechanic and set about repairing the motor. As he spent about two hours in the engine compartment, we the passengers sat calmly reading and napping about the boat. There seemed to be little concern about whether we would ever get moving again, as the morning heat was moderate and the scenery pleasant.


Eventually we did get moving with mild fanfare, and the routine of beaching the boat resumed for a few hours until finally the river widened and we entered a marshy sort of area. This is where things got quite interesting. We began passing real live floating villages on either side of the river. The houses were made of a combination of reeds, wood, and large leaves, and they were floating on bundles of bamboo. This is pretty useful when the water level rises 9 meter in the wet season.


Life here is totally water-based. There are no roads, so all transport is by boat (we had some locals aboard our boat and as we would come up to their village, we would send out a whistle and there family members would paddle a canoe out to pick them up). They fish with giant contraptions that look like cranes, made out of bamboo, rope and netting. Food comes from the water, in the form of fish and plants that are grown in floating gardens. They even had some floating pig pens. Once they have digested the food, it also goes back into the water, though I think the marshlands help filter out the bad stuff (at least I hope).


There is also an interesting clash of primitive and modern. I never knew you could have electricity in a floating house, but indeed you can. There were even some TVs and satellite dishes. As for sleeping, hammocks seem to be the way to go.

On and on we motored by village after floating village, eventually coming into the open waters of the Tonle Sap, SE Asia's largest lake, late in the evening. This lake rises about 10 meters in depth every year in the wet season, as the Mekong river backs up into it, thus the floating villages and stilted houses. We watched the sun set, reflecting upon the large body of water, and motored on into another narrow waterway towards Siem Reap.


Just as it became totally dark, we reached the boat ramp, and I and two fellow passenger boarded a tuktuk to ferry us the 30 km into the small city of Siem Reap, base for Angkor Wat and the surrounding ruins. We traveled the dusty roads through what in the wet season would be a lake bed. Back into the bustle of a large settlement, we came to appreciate the 11 hour journey we had just completed through a place that was so different from what we in the West are used to.

After a minor dispute with the tuktuk driver who tried to pawn us off into a commission-paying hotel in a distant region of town, we checked into Popular Guesthouse, which as its name implies, is popular. So here I sit, now four days later, having become a bit stuck in this spot.

And that's the floating village post!

On to Cambodia: Trains, Tuktuks, Buses and Motos

When it was time to leave Bangkok, I walked to the train station at 5:30 in the morning and purchased a ticket to Aranya Prathet, the Thai town along the Cambodian border. I boarded the third class train, a grungy vehicle with dusty fans and hard seats, and we pulled away from the station before daybreak. It was a six hour journey to the border, passing through the hazy central plains of Thailand, full of green fields and the occasional smoldering pile of waste sending smoke into the air. I succeeded in sleeping on and off throughout the journey.

At last we reached the small town of Aranya Prathet around noon. A gang of tuktuk drivers began shouting at the few backpackers in the train, making offers to take us to the border. Based on my reading of my travel guide and past border experience, I knew this was a situation ripe for trouble. Nonetheless I negotiated a price with a tuktuk driver to take me the few miles to the Cambodian border crossing. He drove me for a few minutes before turning off at an inconspicuous side street and pulling up to a place where the sign read "Cambodian Visa Office". This was clearly not the border and I asked to driver to take me the rest of the way. One of the "Cambodian officials"came out to greet me and asked me to step inside. "Is this the border?" I asked. He responded that it was. The discussion went on for a few minutes, as I kept one foot in the tuktuk. I calmly refused to buy into the scam and pleaded with the driver to take me the rest of the way to the border. Presumably, these people give you a Cambodian visa at an inflated price, that may or may not be accepted by the real Cambodian officials. Finally he relented, and I, feeling proud of myself for so deftly defying this scam, whizzed on to the border.

This was a frantic crossing, as it is the most highly traveled of any of the Thai land borders. I stood in a series of long lines, first to get checked out of Thailand, after which I crossed through the duty-free zone to wait and get my Cambodian visa, at which point I proceeded to another line to get my new visa stamped. Simultaneously, it started pouring down rain outside.

Finally I was through customs and into Cambodia, though now the task was to get out of the dirty casino town that is Poipet. The travelers here are smartly herded like sheep onto government-condoned shuttle buses that take you a couple kilometers to the "tourist bus station". There I purchased my ticket to Battambang at the inflated price (still only ten dollars; yes, they use the almighty US dollar in Cambodia, and for fractions of a dollar they use the Cambodian currency, so no coins). Again I managed to sleep sporadically as the bus stopped many times along the road to pick up locals and drove maniacally down the small highway, overtaking motorbikes, tractors, and trucks. I enjoyed the view of rural Cambodia and the torrential thunderstorm that raged outside.

Two hours later the bus arrived in the small city of Battambang, which is the second largest in the nation. I found my way to a hotel in the town center where for $5.00 per night, I had a large bed, fan, private bathroom, and cable TV. The rest of the evening I walked around downtown, getting a cheap meal at the market (fried chicken with rice and some soup), as I had not eaten all day, and enjoyed a bottle of Cambodia's own Angor Beer. I went to be early after this tiring day of travel, about 11 hours in total.


The next day I felt a bit adventurous, and decided to try my hand at motorbiking through the surrounding countryside. I rented a small Honda with four manual gears, and the motorbike guy gave me a quick outline of how to operate this beast. I gave him the six dollars that he charged for a full day of motorbiking fun, filled up the tank with a couple liters of gas, and was off towards some temples, 28 km to the south, tourist map in hand.

Now say what you will about the lack of wisdom in driving a motorcycle for the first time, in a foreign country where the road are a free-for-all, but this was THE WAY to see Cambodia. I followed the narrow strip of unpainted asphalt for half an hour, passing small villages with stilted homes, wedding parties with music blasting, and the daily life of the Cambodian countryside. I went to two temples in the south, one being a modest ruin at the top end of 356 stairs (I counted), and the other being a modern concrete structure atop a limestone outcropping.


Just a few hundred meters from here was one of the many location where the army brutes of the Khmer Rouge, a brutal dictatorship of the 1970's, carried out some of their executions. It is a large limestone cave with a skylight that provided a suitable place of disposal for the bodies.


Traveling back through Battambang, I headed north, this time along the river, where the villages seemed more water-based. All homes here were on stilts, which is useful in avoiding flooding in the wet season. Between the homes is lush jungle greenery. I came to another ruin, which as ruins go was not too impressive. I ended up riding around all day seeing various ruins, though the real sight to see were the villages I passed through. Here I received an unfiltered view of rural Cambodia, and aside from a moderate sunburn and some bugs in the mouth, I came out of the experience unscathed.


That night, after returning the hog, I explored downtown on foot some more and had a couple nice meals. I purchased my ticket to depart by boat to Siem Reap the next morning (where I am writing from) and again went to bed early for the 6:30 a.m. departure.

Battambang and its surrounding villages presented me with my best memories on this trip thus far, though the events of the next day would take the cake. That, however, will have to wait until the next chapter: Riverboat to Siem Reap

BKK (!)

After much deliberation, I finally left Bangkok on March 2. I spent five nights in three different guesthouses and skimmed this city from East to West, seeing a little bit of a lot of things. As I think a chronological account of my Bangkok experience would be tedious and unhelpful, I will lay out this post thematically with thoughts on various BKK topics. First and foremost:

Food

Food, like many things here, is cheap. The way to eat is on the street, as long as there seem to be some reputable locals eating there (they know better what's clean and what's not). The standard plate of rice and curry is about 30 baht, or 1 USD. And Thai fare is beautiful; light and delicious.

I've only been averaging two meals a day due to my suppressed SE Asia appetite. I think this is due to a combination of the heat, and the basic survival instinct that kicks in when you are in a strange place. I don't think humans would have come very far if we were crippled by hunger during stressful circumstances. There must be something about being out of your element that leads you to eat less.

Lodging

Also cheap, of course. During my first two nights I steered clear of the backpacker's Mecca that is the Banglamphu neighborhood and opted to stay at a smaller place near the train station and metro that I happened to stumble upon after getting off the train. Only 180 baht/$6 per night. Complete with a floor fan, a stiff bed and a grimy shared bathroom, it wasn't the best place but easily accessed by the metro train, allowing me to explore the modern eastern part of the city. Even after I switched to the Baglamphu area and paid slightly more, the amenities were similar. Plain white walls and paper-thin drywall between the tiny rooms.

Also, no sheets are provided, nor is there any need for them. The best way to sleep I have found is to late flat on my back with all my limbs extended, the fan blowing across my face. I can't say it is the best sleep I've ever had.

Transport

When it comes to traveling, walking is my most frequent mode of transport. It allows me to wander aimlessly without having to pay, and see life on the ground. Sometimes you have to get across the city though. The first couple of days I relied on the metro system, which is as modern as your average American commuter train. The fun started when I took my first tuktuk ride, aptly-named for the sound that the engine makes. These are basically motor trikes with a small carriage for passengers on the back, painted in whatever colors and designs suit the owner.

Taking it up a notch, one day I decided to take my first motorcycle ride with a moto-taxi. I climbed on the back and held on to the rear bar, and tried not to let my awkwardly long legs get in the way of the driver or his lane-splitting maneuvers. At first this was terribly frightful, but I quickly began to feel this sensation of flying.

I upped the ante even further on a day trip to the town of Ayutthaya, which is a river island housing the ruins of the old Siamese capital. At the beginning of the two hour ride on the bumpy third-class train, I met a Chinese traveler who went by the english name of 'Chris'. Chris was bandaged up from a recent motor wipe-out he had in Phuket a few days prior. When we arrived in Ayutthaya we decided to join forces. I was going to rent a bicycle to get around the island, but he insisted that we could split a motorbike. I hesitate for a moment, looking at his bandages, before signing on to the endeavor. What a story this would make. I couldn't wait to describe to all my friends the image of me on the back of a motorbike with a petite Chinese guy driving, sporadically bandaged from head to toe, and me giving directions on the back. This leads me to my next idea:

Risk

My risk threshold increases substantially when traveling. I think this goes with the saying, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." As I previously experienced in Latin America, people in SE Asia are much less obsessed with risk-aversion than we are in America. In the States we are very orderly. Stop signs mean 'stop'. We drive on one side of the road and only one side. Red lights mean 'do not go'. Here it is different though. The rules of the road are more like guidelines to be followed, and only as they are useful. There seems to be less of a fear and a constant playful obstinacy towards life's dangers.

I will say for the record that I most certainly wore a helmet on the motos, and my prior statements do not reflect any sort of advocacy for motorcycling. Ok kids?

Homesickness and Westerners

I must admit that at times, traveling alone in a strange place takes its toll on my morale. Sometimes I feel as if this trip is some sort of self-imposed penance rather than pleasure. I thought a couple of days spent in the relative comforts of the Banglamphu neighborhood might help. I was wrong.

On my third day in BKK I decide to uproot myself and set up base in the part of the city overrun by westerners. From here I could enjoy cheap drinks, lots of fellow travelers, and some of the historic sights of the city. Upon setting foot in this part of town you are bombarded by sensory input. Loud music, white people in beachwear (where's the beach, I thought), cheap goods for sale, and lots of people eating and drinking in street-side restaurants. I checked into a guesthouse in the area and set about on foot. I thought that being surrounded by fellow travelers would make it easy to interact with people, but I was mistaken. For the most part, people seemed to be in their own cliques. In areas less-traveled by your fellow westerners, I am usually happy to see someone from "home", but here we were the rule rather than the exception.

I cannot say that I did not partake at least a bit in the party atmosphere, but for the most part I felt like sitting on the sidelines and watching the parade of inebriation and traveler stereotypes.

Another way to deal with homesickness that I have often enjoyed is going to see a movie in a western-style cinema. Not only does it allow me to escape into the air-conditioned darkness, providing comfort and anonymity, but, if watching an American movie, it also transports me home for a couple hours. In this case, the only English language movie was No Strings Attached, starring the beautiful Ashton Kutcher, and also Natalie Portman. I was not amazed, but nor was I disappointed. An added bonus: Right before the movie started, some corny music came on with a picture slideshow of Thai people. Suddenly everyone in the theatre shot to their feet as if to leave. Quickly I realized that they were playing the Thai national anthem..... in a movie theatre. Not to feel left out, I also stood in observance. That brings me to my last point:

The Thai

The Thai seem to be very proud of their monarchy. The King's image is plastered all around and he is held in high esteem. One other time, at the train staion in Ayutthaya, they played the 6:00 p.m. national anthem. The two fellow travelers I was with were confused, as I and everyone else in the station stood up. "Don't worry," I explained. "This is just the national anthem. I saw this happen in a movie theatre one time.... just stand up."

Six days in Thailand isn't nearly enough to gain a real sense of the nation. I can say that the Thai seem to be a very happy and courteous people, and from what I have noticed in my few hours in Cambodia, much more soft-spoken. Really though, I wouldn't hazard to try to sum up this nation based on a week of experiences. I will say that I enjoyed Bangkok.