The living is eaaasy on Don Det

Ahhhhh.......Laos. If the Mekong River islands of Don Det and Don Khon are any indication, I've officially found my bucolic Southeast Asian paradise. Oversimplified wishful thinking, but Laos hasn't disappointed yet. After my frustrating misadventure getting to the Lao border, everything chilled out a few notches and the rest of the trip was a piece of (mango?) cake. A short mini-bus ride to the village of Ban Nakasang was followed by a long-tail boat ride through a maze of beautiful mid-channel islands, and suddenly I was wading ashore on Don Det.

Don Det is part of a chain of permanent and semi-permanent seasonal islands that dot the Mekong near the Cambodian border - in Lao, the area is known as Si Phan Don or "4000 Islands." The biggest islands are inhabited and a few, like Don Det, have been attracting tourists (well, backpackers - a distinct cheapskate subclass of tourists) for years now. Most of the farming and fishing families have built at least a bungalow or three on the river's edge to rent out at ridiculously low prices - mine cost $2.40 a night. No electricity on the island but generators run from about 6-10pm, if all goes well. Basically, the islands are famous for setting new, internationally recognized standards in the world of "chilling." It's a great place to become better acquainted with your hammock as you watch the Mekong gurgle by. In case that isn't relaxing enough for you, most of the island restaurants specialize in (fully advertised) "happy meals." For those so inclined, a few extra kip (Lao currency) will ensure that your meal or fruit shake is spiked with a wad of home grown marijuana.

So, while the lifestyle ensures that there are plenty of foreigners kicking (or drooling) around, it is easy enough to leave the scene behind - a five minute walk down a sandy footpath takes you into the real-deal, rural Laos: rice paddies, vegetable farms, thatched roof huts, water buffalo, and friendly locals, who amazingly don't seem to be jaded at all by the newcomers. For most of my morning walk around the island the other day, my only companion was a small cat that had attached itself to me - until it got bored and wandered off. The islands are also perfectly flat and interlaced with dirt paths, making bike riding a breeze - unless you come across the rare scrap metal piles that apparently pass for bridges. The rusty metal comes from a French-built narrow gauge railroad that was built across the islands to circumvent a very serious set of rapids that line the west side of the island. I was shocked at the size of the falls - I guess I had never thought about the Mekong having rapids. At any rate, these rapids, along with an even bigger set just downstream, killed the French dream of a "Mekong Highway" from Saigon to China.

All in all, Don Det has proved to be a nice change from the (sometimes) craziness of travel in Cambodia. It also provided a bit of recovery time - it seems as though I managed to pick up my first illness of the trip. Feels like a head cold, but we'll see. Back to hammock - doctor's orders.

Cambodia to Laos - No looking back!

Anxious to maintain my now-pleasant memories of Cambodia, it was time to leave the country - quickly. That, of course, was asking a bit too much and I ended up stuck in the near-border town of Stung Tren for a very uninspiring day. Long story short, while I was happily SOLD a ticket to the Laos border and beyond, it became infinitely more troublesome for the transport company when they realized that I was the only one who had booked a trip that day. Embarrassed about the situation they had created, they refused to tell me the bad news until I finally dragged it out of a particularly smarmy slick-haired asshole (yes...asshole) after I had sat around for two hours waiting for my now imaginary ride to the border. Typically Asian - avoid the truth at all costs in order to maintain "face." There are many things I dislike about American culture, but our tendency towards straight talking and blunt honesty is not one of them. Ah well, another guy from the bus company stepped in and we quickly came to an agreement - in exchange for a discounted room at their affiliated guesthouse, I'd spend the night in Stung Tren and hop on their fully booked bus to the border the following morning. That's all it would have taken (albeit two hours earlier) to rectify the situation. In the end, I soothed my anger by munching dragon fruit and watching back to back to back shows on the Discovery Channel and BBC (he threw in free cable tv). For the record, Stung Tren still sucks.

True to his word, first thing in the morning, I was loaded on an almost-full mini bus for the drive north to the (very) rural Cambodia-Laos border crossing. A wooden shack on the Cambodian side was separated by a 200 meter long stretch of no-man's land from another wooden shack on the Laos side. Occasionally, a random herd of goats would illegally immigrate from country to country, but that was about it. I had already arranged a Lao visa in Phnom Penh so, other than a bit of waiting and a one dollar bribe to each set of immigration officials, the transition was pretty straight forward. A short van ride and quick ferry trip later, I was on Don Det island, my home for the next couple of days. Welcome to Laos!

Northern Cambodia: Kratie and Beyond

The first thing I realized after taking my seat on the bus out of town was that - in terms of picking a travel day - I had made a very poor decision. Yeah, 1 to 2 million people flood into Phnom Penh for the Water Festival, which means that 1 to 2 million people have to flood out of Phnom Penh at its conclusion. I pondered this fact as our bus sat thoroughly wedged in downtown gridlocked traffic. Hmmm..... Live and learn, if you're lucky.

So the ride north to Kratie turned out to be slightly longer than I had envisioned, but in the end, it wasn't all that bad. The highlight, beyond the stunning scenery, was a showing of "Fist of Fury"on the bus dvd player. It really is amazing how bad copies of early 80's Hong Kong kug fu flicks dubbed in Khmer can make the travel time fly - before long, we had arrived.

Kratie is a smallish town on the Mekong river about half way between Phnom Penh and the Lao border to the north. A mellow little place with untended horses wandering main street and run down French colonial-styled buildings slowly mildowing in the humidity. It was pretty similar to a few of the towns I had visited down on the southern coast, but just a little more lively. The bustling market made it easy to track down my new favorite tropical delicacy, the dragon fruit. I also managed to score my cheapest room of the entire trip: $3.00, with swarms of flies thrown in for free. What a deal! No hot water, but for three bucks, you really can't complain.

Kratie also happens to be famous for its nearby population of the endangered Irrawaddy river dolphins that congregate a few km upstream at a place called Kampi. I'm not kidding, there really are dolphins in the muddy Mekong - only about 75 left in the entire country, although a few still swim free in Laos, apparently. So, obviously, where there are dolphins there are bound to be dolphin tours. After enduring the hard sell tactics of would be guides, I decided to skip the (relatively) expensive tour and just rent a motorbike for the day instead. Since the best time to spot the dolphins is during the low water months of April and May, I figured my money would be better spent elsewhere. Locals don't dive for cover as I approach (but the kids, who happily wave and shout "hello" as you ride past, will run and start screaming bloody murder the moment you stop your bike).

Taking a small road paralleling the river, I took off to the north, with the goal of visiting the largest wat (Buddhist monastary) in Cambodia. Like everything else, it is completely understated and really off in the middle of almost nowhere. I didn't get very far before running smack into the tail end of a victory parade. Turns out one of the boat racing teams I had probably watched in Phnom Penh was making its triumphant return to their home village. Dozens of men walked along side their (now wheeled) boat banging on drums, shouting, waving to the locals who lined the roadside. They were all as excited to see me as I was to see them, so I joined the parade on my motorbike for a few minutes before zooming off. A very cool way to top off the Bon Om Tuk experience.

Further along the road, I passed the parking area for the "dolphin tours" which was quickly filling with tourists. Apparently they would climb into boats and their guides would motor out into the middle of the river and begin the hunt for the elusive dolphins. Two miles beyond that, I pulled off the side of the road for a drink of water and, lo and behold, right in front of me (to be fair, maybe 200 yards away) was a pod of five or six Irrawaddy dolphins repeatedly surfacing and diving! HA!! I had found the dolphins myself and for the next half hour a couple of local kids tending their cows and I sat on the river bank and enjoyed the show. Before long the tour boats had arrived and (perhaps vindictivly) blocked our no-fee-paying views. Oh well, not only had I been in my first Cambodian parade, I had also seen my first river dolphins. Quite a morning - and what a great way to end my stay in the country.

If all goes well, it's off to Laos in the morning.

Bon Om Tuk - The Grand Finale

Ah, the Water Festival. Once again, this amazing experience has completely altered my attitude towards Cambodia - and for that I will be forever grateful, especially now that I'm high tailing it for the border, possibly never to return. As I wandered around the city on that last morning of celebration, I was a little concerned by the apparent lack of people on the streets. I thought maybe the million plus visitors were trying to get a jump on the long journeys back to their home towns and villages. Ha, what a sucker I was.....everyone was just sleeping off the hangovers from the night before. By 2:00 the party was back in full swing with, if you can believe it, even MORE excitement in the air. Once more I dove headlong into the (very polite and orderly) masses and managed to make my way down to the "Foreign Visitors Viewing Area" on the river bank for the boat racing finals. As it turns out, I was in distinguished company - just down river sat the King of Cambodia. I caught occasional glimpses of his royally bald head when he stood to applaud the racers. Having a seat so close to the King and other assorted dignitaries ensured that I got an up close view of all the boats as they did their victory laps back upstream. Between the Cambodian's excitement due to the presence of royalty and the copious amounts of alcohol they had obviously been drinking in the hot sun all day, all the boat crews put on quite a show after their heats. As entertaining as they were in front of the stuffy officials and subdued foreigners, they really let loose as soon as they paddled a little further upstream and got in front of the hometown crowds. Then the partying really began....as it should.

I had a little trouble following all the action since the play by plays were in Khmer, but it was obvious that the races were winding down in frequency. Finally, I could just make out the King overseeing some sort of ceremony down on his stretch of river bank. Then two beautifully ornamented boats manned by crews in royal regalia began the long paddle upstream past the crowds to the starting line. All of the other boats joined the procession and before long they were out of sight. Not quite sure what was going on, but also realizing that none of the Cambodians were leaving their seats, I waited with a couple of Brits I had been watching the races with. Suddenly, a MASSIVE flotilla of boats appeared around the upstream bend, heading for the red ribbon tied off between mid-river buoys that now marked the finish line. But they weren't paddling very hard - this was just a ceremonial race, led of course, by the royal boats. To the thunderous applause, shouts, and chanting of the crowd, the entire mass of boats made its way to the finish line, with the King's boats breaking the ribbon. This year's boat racing was over.

The rest of the evening was devoted to a massive firework display over the river and a parade of lights: barges covered in neon-laced scaffolding representing.....well, I'm not sure what they were representing. There were big turtles, a firebreathing rooster, an oil derrick, and a back hoe among other things. At any rate, the entire spectacle, from the first boat races of the day to the late night street party, was by far one of the coolest things I've seen in all of my travels. A perfect way to say goodbye to Phnom Penh.

Bon Om Tuk: It's Water Festival Time!

It's amazing how one small (or, in this case, rather large) event can completely change your attitude about a place. When I left Phnom Penh a few days ago for my south coast loop, I was a little down on the city. The noise, the dirt, the poverty - it had all gotten on my nerves a bit. Fast forward a week and toss in the biggest festival on the Cambodian calendar and Phnom Penh is a new experience altogether. In fact, it's nothing short of amazing.

I had heard that "Bon Om Tuk" would be a big deal - the population of Phnom Penh doubles as more than a million people flood in from the rest of the country - and, in a very rare moment of (wise) strategic planning, I had reserved a $6 room down by the waterfront in advance. Arriving from Sihanoukville, buses were being stopped about 15 km outside of town. From there it was a tuk tuk taxi to within about 5 blocks of the river, beyond which all motorized traffic had been restricted. Sweating my way through the streets on foot, I made it to the guesthouse, threw my bags in my room, and headed out the door to be immediately swept up in the biggest crowd of people I've ever seen. Although I have no idea how many people were on the streets, the million person figure didn't seem a stretch. People were shoulder to shoulder for blocks and blocks, particularly in the evening. A carnival atmosphere had descended upon the city - vendors, gawkers, picnicers, strollers, strutters, families, tourists, and police clogged all the available open space. Stages for (bad) musical perfomers had been erected in each of the main traffic circles and city parks for entertainment. Neon-covered barges floated up and down the river and a surprisingly sophisticated firework show marked the end of the day - and signaled the beginning of the evenings parties.

For all of the dry-land festivities, Bon Om Tuk is really about the river. Falling in early November each year, it celebrates the "epic victory" of Jayavarman VII over the Chams, who had conquered and occuppied Angkor in 1177. It also marks an annual natural phenomena - at the conclusion of the rainy season each year, the flow of the Tonle Sap river actually reverses direction. For half the year, the river flows into Tonle Sap lake, the biggest in southeast Asia. As the dry season begins, the bloated lake begins to drain and the river begins its normal flow into the Mekong and out to the South China Sea. The locals celebrate this change in the river with boat races...lots of boat races. For three days straight, hundreds (500 this year) of long, skinny, low-riding boats powered by dozens of paddlers race each other on a downriver course set up in front of the royal palace. I'm not sure how long the course is, but you certainly can't see the start from the finish line. It's an absolutely amazing sight - some of the boats have 75 paddlers or more - stroking their way down the river in unison (from a distance they resemble the undulating bodies of caterpillars, especially the teams uniformed in bright green shirts). Once the course has been run, the teams are required to turn around and paddle BACK to the start line and do it all over again. But the upstream run provides an opportunity for some showboating in front of the crowds - chanting, dancing, and paddle slapping are the name of the game.

The races are televised all over the country (and even in Bangkok, reports my Dad) and you're lucky if you actually manage to get through the massive crowds and close enough to the river to see any of the action. Unless you're a foreigner, that is. The Cambodian Tourist Bureau has, in their infinite wisdom, cordoned off a large chunk of riverfront near the finish line (complete with covered viewing stand and padded seats for the softer folks) just for international visitors. After thinking I'd never see the races due to the huge crowds, I stumbled into this little corner of sanity and was promptly escorted by a friendly Cambodian representative to a seat with amazing views. There I sat, transfixed by the crowds, the boats, the races, the capsizes (three that I saw, with over 100 people - sans lifejackets - in the drink) and all the rest of the hoopla for several hours. While I felt a little guilty about my preferential treatment, I figure I deserve a little, especially after all the overcharging my white skin encourages. Today marks the final day of the festival and the word on the street is that, at the conclusion of the championship race this afternoon - presided over by the King, of course - all 500 teams will paddle the course together. Now, that should be a sight.

So, like I said, my feelings about Phnom Penh have be radically changed. The trick will be getting out of town before it reverts back to the drab normalcy that turned me off in the first place. With that in mind, I'm catching an early bus north to Kratie first thing tomorrow morning. Time to start the trip north to Laos.

Sihanoukville...bringing out Evan's inner prude

Ok, so Sihanoukville isn't exactly the Cambodian version of Pattaya (the nauseating sun and sex capital of Thailand). Much to my pleasant surprise, it's not even close....yet. But given a little time and better advertising among the international creepy, balding, overweight and lacking in human decency set and Sihanoukville will get there. Today, however, it's a pretty low key port town blessed with a few strips of white sand and a decent road to Phnom Penh. The couple of beaches that haven't been completely privatized by luxury resorts are edged, from one end to the other, with palm-thatched bungalow guest houses, restaurants, and bars. In short.....Evan's version of hell on earth. I won't go on and on bitching and moaning about the Asian beach scene - to each their own, I suppose - but, for the life of me, I just don't see the pleasure in getting loaded on "Mekong buckets" and whatever the cheap and easy drug of the week might be while simultaneously offending locals and fellow travelers alike with gross displays of overweight, hairy, sunburned bodies (Russian men and British women seem to be the worst offenders). The icing on the cake, of course, is the unabashed "relationships for hire" between the losers mentioned above and the local Cambodian women. Who would have thunk it, Sihanoukville has apparently brought out the puritan in me.

I do have to mention that it all makes for an entertaining sunrise stroll on the beach. Sort of like an atomic bomb went of in a neighborhood of neo-hippy communes, sports bars, and cheap brothels. After making sure to kick a little sand on an afro'ed burnout who was passed out in the surf, I shared a little chuckle with the couple of Cambodian kids who was busy sifting cigarette butts, beer bottles, and scraps of roman candles from the beach.

So given all of joys of Sihanoukville, why did I even bother stopping by? For the same reason we can't help staring at car wrecks, I guess. That, and that it made a convenient stop on the road back to Phnom Penh. And Sihanoukville isn't all that bad....the locals are pretty friendly, the weather is spectacular, and I may even head down to the beach for a swim in the Gulf of Siam. I won't be seeing the ocean again for a while so maybe I'll frolic in the waves. And, most importantly, now that I've been here, I'll never lay awake at night thinking "man, I wonder what that Sihanoukville, Cambodia is like?"

Before signing off from S-Ville, I've got to mention one of the most amazing examples of niche-market exploitation I've come across in my travels. There's a transportation company in this part of the country called "G'Day Mate Outback Tours."Ok, whether or not an Australian had or has anything to do with the company is beside the point - other than I would love to believe that a Cambodian actually came up with the idea. Anyway, G'Day Mate provides minibus transport between certain cities with, and I quote, "NO Crazy Overtaking, NO Loud Khmer Music, NO Constant Beeping of Horns, and NO Seat Sharing - You are GUARANTEED 1 Whole Seat per Person!" I love it.....they've won my business.

Southern Cambodia: If I was any more relaxed I'd be dead

As much as I loved the dusty craziness of Phnom Penh (sarcasm intended), I sure enjoyed watching the city vanish from sight through the back window of our bus as we left town. Passing the last remnants of the city's sprawl, I was treated to my first real view of rural Cambodia - and it was spectacular. The rainy season has apparently been kind this year because fields of bright green, waist-high rice stretched out in all directions as far as I could see. The only things breaking the pancake flat contour of the horizon were the scattered palm trees lining irrigation ditches or surrounding small stilt homes. In fact, the view was almost good enough to distract me from the drops of water leaking from the overhead a/c vents in the bus. I, however, was one of the lucky ones. Sitting in an aisle seat, I was merely being hit by the occassional stray drop. The poor people in the window seats directly under the vents were subject to the full leak. Eventually, the driver's assistant started taping little plastic bags to the roof of the bus in order to collect the dripping water - before long a half dozen were slowly filling with brownish water as they dangled precariously above people's heads. A Buddhist nun eventually threw a fit in Khmer, which was funny but didn't really help the situation. I was secretly hoping that one good bounce would shake a few bags loose, but no such luck. The tape held until we arrived in Kampot.

Kampot, Cambodia is one of the sleepiest little towns I've ever visited in Asia. Maybe one of the sleepiest I've visited anywhere. Once a pretty important river side port town - really the only ocean port in Cambodia (most shipping travels to Phnom Penh via Vietnam on the Mekong) - it was permanently downgraded upon completion of the deepwater port at Sihanoukville, just down the coast, in the 1950's. Three wars in the last 50 years haven't helped either. So you've got several blocks of old French colonial style buildings fronting the river and its palm-lined promenade, a rusty bridge that has probably been on the receiving end of more than a few bombs, and a population that probably consists of as many chickens, dogs, and cows as people. The town has been seeing an influx of full time foreigners over the past decade ("Pot-pats") but even that only translates into a few river side bars/restaurants and a handful of guesthouses scattered around town. In short, it's a beautifully relaxing place with not a whole lot to do.

One of the cool things I did do was to rent a motorbike for a day to explore the stretch of coast to the east, ending at a small village called Kep. Once again, Kep had a hey day - apparently it was the place for wealthy French colonials rest and recreate. After the French, it was the elite of Cambodian society (ie. corrupt government and military officials) who built their villas in the surrounding hills. And then came the war and the whole town was effectively abandoned. Today, Kep is a quiet little place. A few small hotels have sprung up, a handful of guesthouses have been carved out of the forested hills, abandoned villas are either being reclaimed by vegetation or squatted in by local families. It's all going to change soon, I'm sure. A place this beautiful can't stay unadulterated for long.

After a few lazy days in Kampot (the only kind of days in Kampot) my pulse and blood pressure had dipped to dangerously low levels and it was time to move on. Next stop, Cambodia's attempt at Pattaya: Sihanoukville.

A few days in Phnom Penh are PLENTY

Ah, Phnom Penh. I've been here for four days now - waiting patiently for the return of my passport and visa to Laos - and I'm itching to hit the road again. While there's no denying that the "Penh" is an interesting city, once the main sites and points of interests have been knocked off the list, there's really not much to keep the casual traveler in town. It's hard to compare Phnom Penh to any of the cities that I visited thus far - it's a not small (1.2 million people) but it's one of those spread out places that feels more like an oversize provincial town than a capital city. It's also noticeably poorer than many of the places I've been on this trip. After a day or two it's impossible not to fall into varying stages of "beggar fatigue." The numbers of amputees and otherwise disabled are disheartening. Add to this an over abundance of motorbike taxi drivers (the city has no public transportation at all) and would-be guides hanging on your very move and it's easy to want to hole up in an air-conditioned cafe or bar and never leave. You can't blame the locals for trying to drum up business or welfare. A complete lack of social services and notoriously corrupt government ensure there are no alternatives. Regular power outages, a completely whacked out and unintelligible system for naming streets, sidewalks that serve no other purpose than as a place park cars and collect trash, and the need, for safety's sake, to curtail your activities after dark round out the joys that are Phnom Penh.

Now, all of that being said, I DO like Phnom Penh. It took a few days but I've managed to track down one of the better fruit dealers in the city market. I've definitely found the best Bangladeshi restaurant in town (lunch and world politics with the owner every day - we bashed Bush and watched the election results come in together). The temples are beautiful, the view of the Tonle Sap river merging with the Mekong is amazing, the traffic is bearable, and even the touts are tolerable - a pleasant "no thanks" works wonders. Watching barefoot, orange-robed monks collect alms from shopkeepers each morning is a classic Asian experience. I'm still having a hard time dealing with the beggars - I'd be completely broke in a couple hours if I gave to all the needy - but that just comes with the territory.

But now, it's time to move on. I'm heading south to the town of Kampot tomorrow and then on to the coast. However, I'll be back. Phnom Penh's central location and the absolute lack of a decent road system in Cambodia ensures that I'll have to pass through the city at least once more. Looking forward to it. Ha!

Election Day 2008!