Dusty Smiles at Angkor Wat

Plastered in a mixture of red dust and sweat with my attention temporarily drawn to the gritty crunch of the foot pedal. Its rotation impeded by years of neglect and bearings worn flat by explorers seeking to reveal for themselves an ancient wonder. Clickety-clang-clang, clickety-clang-clang, I ride between Wats on a rickety old single geared bike rented for a dollar from the guesthouse. Every subtle nuance of the scoured and pitted road reverberates through the twanging metal frame into my spine. My ass is sore and feels bruised by day three as I shift from left cheek to right. Driven by curiosity and the marvel of the Khmer empire I move onward with the sense of discomfort subsiding as I make my way to a new eastern entrance.

Images of Shiva, Vishnu, Brahma, Buddha, Hunuman, Rama, and a myriad assortment of dancers, demons, warriors, animals and beasts of all sorts are preserved in fine detail as eternal carvings along long corridors, pillars and thresholds. Stories of epic battles and great victories are vividly depicted by skillful craftsmanship in stone.

Indulging in childlike delight I climbed block after block tooled by long forgotten hands. A sense of wonder overtakes me as I spring from step to step, darting over piles of crumbled rock and climbing clambering bricks of sandstone that are hot to the touch from the baking afternoon sun.

At a remote temple, free of tourists and hawkers, a young girl approaches me while humming a childish tune. She is carrying a few coconut bowls but does not seem all that interested in trying to force a sales pitch on me. Instead, I say hello and we have a few soft spoken words. She follows me humming as I climb through bamboo scaffolding to a central tower. Smei, her name, I ask for assistance. I brought some paper and charcoal and want to capture an image of the carved Sanskrit text. I hold the sheet against the threshold wall and rub some charcoal onto its blank page. Here, I instruct Smei how to rub a crumpled piece of paper over the sheet as phantom symbols make their ghostly appearance. She is amazed and delighted and thoroughly pushes the soft dusty charcoal over the entire sheet. I thank her and take a photo as she proudly holds the sheet for me. Paying Smei 2000 reil for her efforts and leaving her with a charcoal rubbing of her own with a few additional sheets of paper and a chunk of charcoal I smile and say goodbye. Departing down the dusty road on my bicycle, Smei calls out Goodbye one last time while skipping, humming and grinning a broad smile. Elated by the encounter I wave and round a bend in the road.

Hoi An

Hot mug of coffee in hand after a filling breakfast, compliments of the luxury hotel we are residing in for $25/night. Middle-aged French people waddle around the pool and ramble in loud voices at tables consuming black coffee with baguettes and croissants. Am I still in Vietnam? Who cares! It is a welcome change and retreat from the cool misty North where the people never smiled as they yell "You come buy something" with a cold stone-faced stare. We are in Hoi An, a city that has survived through many wars with architecture and infrastructure intact that date back more than 400 years. It has bee a pleasant city to wander through, especially in the evening when the streets awaken to live local performances all aglow in various shades and colours of oriental lanterns strung in rows between trees, buildings and over bridges. A large dragon, fish and phoenix dance in reflecting light cast on the rivers surface as we gawk in wonder from the waters edge. Vietnam is starting to grow on me and I have found many reasons to enjoy my travels through the country. The further south we move, the friendlier the people become as does the weather.

Yesterday, as I made my way to an empty beach on rented bicycle the Sun broke through the clouds. With a stroll up the beach alongside the crashing waves on soft wet sand I located a premium spot in which I could practice yoga postures in isolation. Saluting the Sun in the humid morning air and welcoming its rays upon my face, forgetting that the malaria medication has light sensitivity as a side effect, I took refuge in the warmth of its glow. Alternating between headstands in the sand and body surfing on the crashing waves for two hours I decided it was time to head back. By 2pm, now back at the hotel, a familiar stinging sensation was making its presence known over the surface of my body. A brilliant lobster red had taken over the normal slightly tanned pink tones of my skin. What a rookie backpacker mistake I think to myself throughout the night as I carefully roll under cotton sheets trying to find a comfortable position to sleep.

Jev

I have nothing more to add about Hoi An than Jevin has already written, so I'll just post some pictures to show just how lovely this town is.

David

River at the tourist front of Hoi An Town

Across the river

Jevin, drawn like a moth to the flame

Our time in Hoi An consisted mostly of drinking coffee and eating desserts like these.

The culprit beach of Jevin's sunburn tale.  Those round things are fishing boats.

One of the old buildings in old Hoi An

Isn't she lovely?

Lunch at our most frequented restaurant, the Cargo Club.  It is where we had those pretty desserts, stuffed sea bass, Camembert Salad and so much more. 

Oh Boy Hanoi

Oh boy Hanoi you are so coy before the break of dawn, but at first light your streets bring fright to anyone greater than one meter tall!

Just arrived back at the guest house after a full day of museums, war education and an evening water puppet show. All were great fun, but the anxiety of walking the streets here is something to experience first hand. What we would consider a close call back home between pedestrian and motor vehicle occurs an average of every ninety seconds in Hanoi. On edge every minute with no safe place to walk, because logically it makes sense to park every scooter on the sidewalk, one is constantly dodging traffic in every direction. Beware Saskatoon we are picking up some worldly driving habits!

Its been a good city to visit and tomorrow we will be on our way to Cat Ba in Ha Long Bay, which is designated a World Heritage Site.

Rockin' Paksan & the Cave of Kong Lor

The bus from Phonsavan to Paksan was a lengthy journey but not for dangerous bumpy roads as much for a countless number of stops in the many villages en route. At first I rejoiced in the empty mustard-yellow Russian made bus, thinking I would be one of only a few passengers. It was a cool misty drive for fifteen minutes before the first stop was made. After an hours wait the bus was soon full and not only with happy Lao faces. Loaded into every niche and crevice were peoples personal belongings that included canisters of diesel, chickens (alive) in cages and boxes, bags of dripping meat, machine parts, etc. With every seat now filled, including the makeshift wooden bench balanced in the center isle, we headed onward. I thought again naively that we were at capacity and would head directly for our final destination in Paksan. I was wrong! We stopped and loaded twice as many passengers at every stop as the number that had just gotten off. People were piled on top of one another, not me, and we continued our journey down the yellow dust roads. With scarf tied around my face, like a Western cowboy in films of old, I entered hibernation and swayed to and fro with the dance of the bus. Nine hours had passed and we reached the terminal in Paksan. With intuition as my only guide I headed left. After forty-five minutes of wandering with pack on back I came across BK Guesthouse. It was a clean room, small in size, but had a fan and hot water and was all mine for the night.

With a hot shower and a few minutes stretched-out on white linen sheets I re-clothed and headed in search of some delicious Laos sticky rice. Finding a promising location I ordered the aforementioned dish with a course of stir-fried veggies. Salivating in anticipation of my long awaited meal I apply mosquito spray, organic, and watch my server walk to the table. A basket of sticky rice is placed before me along with fried lettuce in oyster sauce. OK, it must be what is in season and I devour it all. While basking in the moonlight along the river with stomach now full my attention is drawn to a distant lyrical thumping. Curious, I pay my bill and head off in discovery. At this moment I notice a spotlight making its elliptical path in the dusty evening sky. I follow my senses and arrive at a pop rock concert hosted by Nestle with at least 500 locals in attendance and one white guy (me). I felt as famous as the performers on stage as I strolled through the crowds, at least eight inches taller than everyone else, receiving starry gazes from giggling girls and "hello's" from the men with large smiles. It was a worthwhile night and I had arrived on the right evening.

The next morning I made my way to the crossroads where I had been told the local bus would pick me up at nine. At ten-thirty the bus arrived and I was on my way to Kong Lor. I overshot my destination by two-hours, which I discovered from a fellow traveler from Spain and had to backtrack. Four hours of unnecessary travel, but I met a travel companion for the next few days whose name I did not properly store. We headed to Na Hin where we split accommodations for the night and in the morning headed for the village of Kong Lor.

The 45km trip took two hours, which I have now become accustom to because of the many stops and we arrived at the park entrance by noon. We set out to find a home stay and with little effort we met Buun Homme and his family who set us up. We ditched our packs and headed to the cave entrance. The boat can fit a max of three people and my new travel companion wanted to wait for a third person to save us each a dollar. After about twenty minutes no one arrived and I insisted we make our journey through the cave. We were provided life vests and made our way into the darkness before boarding a long slim wooden canoe. With headlamps lit we puttered on the shallow waters into the depths of an immense subterranean darkness. A feeling of absolute isolation overcomes you as you advance into the shadows that absorb the light beaming from your brow. We stop on a rocky shore and are instructed to hike up an incline. A few minutes pass as I continue in solitude, my travel partner now far ahead of me, before my surroundings light up in eerie blue glow. I am surrounded by stalactites and stalagmites. An alien landscape before me, perhaps I have traveled through space to some distant planet. In amazement I walk forward through the glowing humid cave; the air never moves here. France had embarked on a lighting project for this area in an attempt to bring tourism to Kong Lor. We re-boarded the canoe and made our way further into the darkness. An hour had passed in nearly complete sensory deprivation before light again entered my eyes. We made it to the exit and an adjoining small village. With a short stop we headed back. The round-trip through the 7.5 km stretch of cave took almost 2.5 hours and was well worth the arduous journey through rural Laos.

Upon exist I swam in the lagoon at the caves entrance and made my way back to the family's home for dinner. We consumed a lovely meal with three other travelers from a local guest house and we danced with a group of children until their bedtime at ten. The first night I tossed and turned until one-thirty and was awoken at three by the calls of the many roosters. At five am the whole family was awake and so was I. Spending the day in exploration of village paths through the forest and along the river I came back to the lagoon and had another refreshing swim. My two-night home stay in Kong Lor was by far the most enchanting experience I have had in Laos and it took forceful effort for me to move on to Vietnam. New developments of guesthouses and even a resort were underway in this small village and I fear that it will not be the same if ever I were to return.

In Vinh

It is a misty afternoon in the city of Vinh. It was a long day of travel crossing the boarder from Lak Xoa, Laos to Vietnam, but no issues were encountered and I made it to the city unscathed and in relative comfort compared to the cramped conditions of the public buses in Laos. Arriving in my first Vietnamese city alone and tired I pointed myself in a direction and started to walk. The weight of my pack, although it is relatively small, felt like an elephant and I was eager to find a place to unload, wash-up and find some fine cuisine. A few days of swimming and bathing in a lagoon with the addition of many hours of traveling dusty sun baked roads had added a thin film of rugged roughness to my appearance that is uncommon in the demeanor of the neatly dressed and well manicured Vietnamese people that I have encountered thus far.

My first approach to a hotel was in hesitation as the building looked to be crumbling and the room price was far too high. Drearily I trekked on through the throngs of bikes and scooters. Walking many more blocks and believing I was near the train station I spotted a clean hotel with reasonable prices. Viewing the room, I unloaded my pack and without hesitation agreed to stay the night. After a hot shower, feeling refreshed, I set out on the busy streets in search of a good meal. Passing many hawkers toting unidentifiable shredded meats and unfamiliar dishes that sent my appetite running I finally came across a restaurant crowded with locals. Finding a seat inside I started to browse the menu all of which was written in Vietnamese. After a few minutes of bewilderment and hard staring at the unfamiliar characters, hoping if I just looked long enough that it would all make perfect sense, the waitress waded through the bones and debris of past meals scattered about the floor to hand me a limited version of the menu written in English. Uncertain still about the dishes I made a meal of steamed rice, broiled green leaves and two fried eggs. With hunger suppressed I ventured on to find the train station.

Standing in front of a poster board of times and trains at the station, with the same bewildered expression on my face as in the restaurant, a local man who spoke some English approached me and provided some instruction on reading the board. With a time and train written on paper I made my way to the counter and handed them the sheet. In response, some confused looks and a reply I did not comprehend. Eventually, after a few drawings and some vigorous hand movements, my attempt at sign language, a ticket was booked for the sleeper train the following evening to Hanoi. Success by virtue of kindness and patience! Fatigued, I took a taxi back to the hotel and crashed on the bed with the television tuned to Asian teen music videos. The same teen angst exists the world over. I drifted off to sleep and found comfort there in dreams filled with friends and colourful cartoon birds; a perfect retreat from a long days journey.

P.S. Facebook is blocked in Vietnam so for the next few weeks we will be unable to upload photos there or receive your messages. If you would like to send me a note at home4jev@hotmail.com I would love to hear from you!

Jev

Winding & Grinding, what a beautiful view!

Embarking on the journey from Luang Prabang to Phonsavan is not for the ill hearted or motion sick traveller. Caution, states the sign, "sharp curve ahead" an understatement for the six hour drive on the scarred serpentine trail winding endlessly through the undulating peaks and valleys of Laos topography. Beautiful vistas fogged in black plumes of exhaust billowing from the diesel bus five meters ahead. Confident, choking on the same soot filled air as the myself and the other nine passengers, the driver's first attempt to overtake the lumbering mechanical giant is thwarted by a large oncoming truck. We tuck quickly behind the bus, tight on its tail and attempt the same manoeuvre again. Success! To no avail the road ceaselessly winds and turns as the van grinds and churns around countless mountain outcroppings. Luckily for me I am the sole rider in the front passenger seat and witness to the many obstacles to cross and quickly dart out of our path. No school zones or speed limits exist here for the safety of the inhabitants as we gain speed through every village. Beep beep, beware! A quick honk of the horn notifies the children at play that we are not going to slow down nor stop. Please do not cross our path I chant as a silent mantra in my mind with jaw clenched and four limbs bracing against the perpetual thrashing of the vehicle.

Strange enough I close my eyes, better not to see what I cannot control, and slip with a tense comfort into half sleep. Aware of my bracing limbs and bobbling head, like the black and white stallions pasted to the front dash, I rock deeper into an acute mode of hibernation that has developed after many years of travel and road trips. The light is on but offly dim, to paraphrase Uncle Steve whose use of the saying is completely derogatory in nature. Safely, a loose sense of the word, we arrive in Phonsavan. The character of the town is reminiscent of Medicine Hat, Alberta. Only, there are no large dinosaurs peaking over buildings or hiding in sculpted stasis. Instead, we find MAG (Mines Advisory Group) and tour through the centre where we learn about the ongoing efforts of this humanitarian group to disarm or destroy the UXO's (unexploded ordinance) that continue to plague Laos since the "Secret War" that was waged by the US from 1964 - 1973. During this period more than two million tons of ordinance was dropped on the country making Laos the most heavily bombed country in the whole world. Of this indiscriminate bombing, it is estimated that at least thirty percent of the bombs did not detonate and continue to kill villagers, including many children who find and play with the materials. Unfortunately the people of Laos are unable to further cultivate land, out of fear from injury or death, and most cannot produce enough food for their families and villages and are held captive in poverty due to a war that was wagged in secrecy over thirty-five years ago. http://www.maginternational.org/laopdr.

Tomorrow we are visiting a few sites unique to this area including the Plains of Jars, a bombed-out cave, and to finish the day off a dip in local hot springs. Hooray!

Luang Prabang Finale

Completely satisfied with my last day and evening in Luang Prabang. Today started with a bike ride around town and an amazing last breakfast at our favourite restaurant Utopia. As it was a cloudless day and the sun was making it's presence known by noon, we were easily convinced that visiting the Kuang Si water falls was the best option for the afternoon. Thirty kilometres later, a forty-five minute trip by tuk tuk, we arrived at our destination. The entrance to the falls had a moon-bear rescue and rehabilitation centre. Apparently these small black bears are poached and milked for their bile, used as a traditional medicine, a process that is painful and living conditions are dreadful. However, the bears at the sanctuary looked happy and playful. Approaching the falls we saw the first of the beautiful turquoise pools and cascading falls. Further up we found a steep path that lead to the summit of these amazing falls where we could cross and climb back down the other side. Completing a circuit, we all stripped down to hour bathing suits and plunged into the cool and refreshing water. There were a series of pools and after paddling around in one for a short period of time we progressed to a lower pool that was equipped with a rope from which to swing.



On arrival there was a young man preparing to take his first timid swing. After a few moments of hesitation he leaped, but could not hold his own weight on the rope and made a vertical drop from the tree that the rope was tied around. With a big plop into the empty pool an expectant crowd waited to see the man come to shore. However, all he did was bobble with his head below water while flailing his arms in the air. Soon after, two men jumped in and rescued the sinking man. All was fine, but it was hilarious. Makes you wonder the thought process of a man who cannot swim and what reason could cause him to swing out on a rope into a deep pool of water with no apparent exit strategy? Crazy!



David and I took our turns on the rope with no difficulty and towelled off in preparation for our ride back to town. Once in town, we three jumped on our bicycles and crossed a commuter bridge to a residential area yet unexplored. There was not much to see so not much to report, but the bike ride was nice.



Handing in our bikes and settling room payment at the guesthouse we headed market bound and made our separate ways. As I was full from the two steamed buns at the falls and not interested in eating just yet, I opted to go for a massage. Lemon Grass Tradition Massage Centre is absolutely amazing. I spent an hour in-and-out of a herbal steam room while enjoying tea between sessions. The steam room was a prep for the best Lao massage I have had, perhaps the best to date. Two and a half hours later I left the Lemon Grass and headed for the night market, which at this time was closing down. Famished now from all the strenuous work of walking back and forth to the steam room I was on the hunt for food. Restaurants were closing their doors and dito the crepe stands. Fortunately I came across a noodle soup vendor and devoured a brothy bowl.



Luang Prabang was a very pleasant stop on our travels and will be missed. We spent many evenings wandering markets and I was wounded with two scraped knees after a vigorous game of beach volleyball one evening at Utopia. David, Robyn and I were on the all Canadian team with Three others from Winnipeg, Calgary and Golden. We rocked the court, as Robyn dropped bomb after bomb on the opposing team. Unable to keep stride with Robyn's lofty serves we gained point after meaningless point. No score was kept and players switched teams at will, sometimes with 7 players in opposition after a quick beer refresher. After a days rest, we headed out on our epic kayak adventure.



Originally we thought we were well equipped to complete three days of kayaking. We shortened it two and after the first day of continuous paddling for 5 hours we cut the second day to an hour and finished our river ride at the local whiskey village. Good times were had but we are definitely not kayak champions.



It is getting late and we are off early in the morning. I have neglected to pack my bags so I must still do that tonight.



Farwell all until the next update.

Slowboatin' the Mekong

The sun has broken through the clouds, brightening the already perfect temperature and charm of Luang Prabang. This morning was welcomed by the bustling street outside the guesthouse. After a customary morning routine, Robyn and I strolled up the block to Utopia Restaurant where we met David and I indulged in a Ginger-Carrot-Apple smoothie and a large breakfast of two eggs, bacon, local sausage, wild mushrooms, roasted cherry tomatoes, mango-pear chutney and homemade bread. Full and content with the sun rising beyond the scenic mountains I delved into a new novel, "The Dharma Bums" by Jack Kerouac. We have succumbed to a leisure pace of existence in the everyday life of Laos.

Yesterday we stretched our legs and cycled around the old capital, exploring side streets and playing cards over fruit smoothies and sticky rice with mango at a riverside cafe. After winning a round of Rummy and drunk with excitement I encouraged participation in local Laos massage. With rubber arms Robyn soothed into a facial as David and I were pounded by the tiny fists of our young Laotian masseurs. What could have been a wonderful massage was continuously interrupted by the constant chatter and one-handed-texting of the girl performing my treatment.

In leaving Chang Mai, we rode a bus for five hours to a boarder town with Laos. Along the way we took breaks at a fruit dehydrating facility and visited the glimmering mirror studded, white plastered, Buddhist fantasy styled Wat Rong Khun in Chiang Rai. Our final stop in Thailand was, in contrast to our previous experience, a dreary experience. The woman who was in charge of receiving our bus, as well as a few others, was greatly disorganised and had a miserable personality to accompany the chaos of the situation. Guesthouses were not prepared in advance and the town was pretty dungy. Happy to leave the following day for Laos, we crossed the river two hours after schedule and on the other side we were greeted by a very friendly man. This man told the horrors of the boat trip to come and dissuaded many travellers from partaking in the journey and instead recommended a quick bus ride. Those who agreed with him received half their payment back and in addition paid an extra fee to take the bus. We were very pleased with our decision to stay with the boat as it was a beautiful and calm trip up the Mekong. The boats were clean and we found cheap rooms at our overnight stop without any trouble.

Along the Mekong, the vast jungle and mountainous landscape was easily embraced in the open air of the long boat and there was ample room to wander up and down the length of the craft to converse with our fellow travellers. The slow and steady ride was dotted with small villages, children playing waterside in the soft sand, fishermen, and the occasional farm. It was a worthwhile journey and we are happy to be settled in a clean and comfortable guesthouse here in Luang Prabang for a few days. We are planning a three day kayak trip in the near future and look forward to exploring more of this beautiful country.

Commuter Train 109

The open air cabin of commuter train 109 from Bangkok to Ayutthaya is a reminder of a simple freedom we give up as Canadians for the sake of public safety. A humid nights pungent air laps putrid then sweet aromas in cooling gusts against my welcoming brow after a day of sundrenched wandering through busy streets filled with hawkers and gawkers of all kinds. Deep, guttural grumbles of the diesel engine sojourn us North along moonlit steel tracks. The familiarity of this land is close to home with fields of vegetation and towers webbed with wires ensuring the connection and distribution of power and information to the needy masses. Differences exist in the faces of smiling people, proximity of shelter or makeshift habitat to rail lines and the previous mentioned little freedoms of self governing safety.

We arrive in the ancient capital Ayutthaya, which is littered with the remnants of crumbling wats that had been burned in the last war with Burma. A new city has been constructed around the ruins of the old but not forgotten past. Plaster and mortar has since peeled from the faces of brick constructed towers and pillars as desiccated Buddha's lie in broken heaps with softened features aged by brutal force and exposure to natures other elements.

Today was our first cycle experience as we rented bikes from our guesthouse and braved the streets in search of the past and also culture of today. Cycling was a welcome change from the short roofed Tuk Tuks we have been accustomed to employing in our adventures from site to site. On route we discovered massive compounds, giant reclining Buddha's and bustling market places rich in colour, sound and smell. Taking shelter from the hot afternoon sun, Robyn and I indulge in iced coffees under the canopy of lush vegetation as we overlook yet another monument in ruin. Thoughts of displaced monks escaping from the destruction of war seems like a strange thought; stranger still that it continues to occur even to this day in other places throughout Asia. After a full day in Ayutthaya we return to the guesthouse to collect our belongings and wash from our bodies the grime of the day with cooling showers. Tonight we take the overnight, twelve hour commute, to Chang Mai where we will spend a day before heading to the jungle on a three day trek. We are well rested and in great spirits, enjoying the many sites and flavours of Thailand.

Scooting Around Koh Chang!

Another wonderful day! Woke to the call of a roasters and the glow of a rising sun not quite reaching past the peak of the island. The compelling draw of yoga to stimulate the body into wakefulness is much easier satisfied in the warm humid morning of Koh Chang in contrast to the frigid dark dawn of Saskatoon. Greeted by Uri, a Ukrainian yogi, who offered me a cd of his practice I participated in very limited conversation before heading up island on a rented scooter. Breakfast at a restaurant on Lonely Beach consisted of fried eggs, bacon, ham, sausage, toast, tea and juice. Too much meat but it satisfied my hunger. After strolling the beach side for twenty minutes I embraced the salty water lapping at my toes. Emerging ankle to knee to waist and then the full plunge! Relief from the building heat of the day. With a lung full of air I swam after small yellow fish scurrying the white sand floor of this tropical retreat. Completing my swim I applied spf 30 to keep the blistering sun from scalding my white Canadian flesh, a lesson hard learned from past exposure.
With 40 baht worth of fuel in the scooter I rode South to Bang Boa and up a jungle road. Not so much of a road as a crumbling asphalt pathway. Passing tree huts and skittering animals I reached the end of the road. It disappeared into a cavern requiring some backtracking. Stopping at a stretch of beach to meet with some new friends that we are arranging to snorkel with tomorrow I ran out of time before meeting them and had to return the rental, but not before stopping for an Iced Mocha made with sweetened condensed milk, cocoa and espresso a very delicious treat!
It is just past noon and more of the day awaits. Robyn and David have already ventured off and I soon will look for another satisfying bite to eat. So much satisfaction in the variety and wealth of dishes this country has to offer. Smiles and tans everywhere with relaxed travelers from the world around. Farewell for now with thoughts and dreams of so many friends.