Kampot - Guests of Ganesha in the Land of Salt and Pepper

18.06.15
Travel Day
A short night left me grumpy and and the early pick-up from the hostel left me hungry. Our minibus ride to Kampot was alright. Comfortable seats and good airconditioning. For a while, I was even able to sleep. At some point, however, we changed drivers and our new driver decided that blasting sentimental sounding Cambodian pop music while driving three times as fast as every other vehicle (mostly on the wrong side of the road) and honking non-stop (not exaggerating here – he used his horn more than his breaks!) was the way to go. Needless to say, no further sleep was possible.

Happy to arrive in one piece, we got in a Tuk Tuk and had him bring us to Ganesha Eco Guesthouse, outside of town. The drive on the main road was short, the one on the dirt path long and bumpy. The earth was as red as that in the Australian Outback, almost even more so. We drove along fields and through localvillages, twisting and turning and heading deeper into the middle of nowhere. Finally, we traversed a small muslim village and walked the last few feet to our guesthouse. What a place! When looking at all the places to stay in Kampot – a province known for salt fields and pepper plantations – we stumbled upon many interesting candidates. Many of which promised a relaxed atmosphere by the river, living in huts on stilts and genuine nature. Thank god for TripAdvisor, haha. As it turned out, quite a few were outed as party places with blasting music on till 5am, stoned staff and bed bugs. And if it wasn’t their own music, it was that of the neighboring guesthouses that would keep you awake. This place, on the other hand, is so far away from everything, so secluded and hidden and absolutely wonderful! Everything is green, thanks to the rains that have starte becoming more frequent in the last days. They have a little chill area on a plattform by the water, where we spent the first few hours just sitting, reading, writing (this is where I finally caught up on typing up my blog) and staring onto the canopy of green infront of us and the murky waters that rushed in one direction and then the other. So quiet, so peaceful. The only sounds are the birds and the wind in the trees (and a motorbike of two every few hours). We extended our stay by another night within the first half an hour of being here.
The guesthouse is eco friendly and a barefoot kind of place. The food is amazing and they have an ice cream menu that is to die for – especially for someone like me, who would gladly live on that stuff!

This would be our first true chill-day since starting our travels, an man was it wonderful. Later in the afternoon I had a wonderful yoga session by the water and we spent the evening lounging in the common area before crashing in our comfy beds, listening to the sounds of nature.

19.06.15
Rain. We woke up to the sound of rain. Rain falling on our roof. Rain falling on the leaves. Refreshing rain. I guess that would postpone our planned bike trip to the mountain. I cannot say that we were too disappointed. More time to enjoy some hot tea, have a leisurely breakfast and …chill.

After lunch – the skies had cleared up long before, but our chill-mood had not – we rented mountain bikes and took a drive to Phnom Sot, a hill with a view. Two more German travelers from our guesthouse joined us along the way. It was the first time for me, in almost 20 years, to really ride a bike again. Believe it or not. Despite owning a bike for the last year in Berlin, I never really used it. And I don’t believe I have ever really mountain biked before. The dirt roads were, as dirt roads often are – dirty. Full of potholes turned puddles, stoney and bumpy. But after the first wobbly meters, I managed alright. The ride went through villages and farmland. Many smiles and hellos greeted us along the way.
Arriving at the hill – I looked like I had been mud wrestling, or at least my legs did. Mo’s comment when I asked why he didn’t look like that: “Because I know how to drive curves.” Touche.

We climbed the little hill and looked for that amazing view we were promised. It was quite beautiful and atmospheric, with little temple-like structures at the top. They looked more like abandoned houses and gave it a Blair-Witch kind of feel. From the hilltop we looked into the valley on one side and another hill on the other. Another hill?! Remembering the words of the helpful girl in our guesthouse “…you will see a little hill – that’s NOT it. It’s the one next to it.” Oh well…

So we climbed back down and up the other. A much steeper and adventurous hike with rocky steps that seemed neverending. But man, that was worth it! At the top, an empty house stood, surrounded by colorful garlands. And the view was amazing. All the way to the ocean on one side and into the valley and onto the mountains on the other. The tiny fields at the bottom still brown from lack of rain. And talking about rain… Sitting at the peak, we could see a large patch of downpour slowly – and then quickly – heading our way. It swallowed up the mountains and view into the valley and within no time, we were right in the middle of it. On top of a hill and in the middle of a monsoon rain. So beautiful.

The hike down was slow and slippery, the path having turned into a little waterfall. But we made it and then enjoyed the very wet and muddy ride home. I got splashed quite a bit twice by cars driving by, but being soaking wet, it didn’t matter anyways. It was so much fun, so energizing, so beautiful.
After dripping through the entire guesthouse, we got cleaned up and sat around enjoying the rain from a drier point of view.

After the rain comes...a swarm of flying termites. Just like I've experienced many times in the Philippines at the beginning of the rainy season, these pesky little buggers come out after a downpour to buzz around, annoy you and then die - leaving a trail of wings in their wake. We tried our best to keep them out of our food, while watching the giant geckos feast on the abundant prey. The usually very shy (but loud!) amphibians all came out of hiding and sat there, mouths open, waiting for a bug to fly in. They (and we) were joined by little toads, that hopped about the common area, enjoying the fallen delikatessen. After an hour or two, everyone was full and content.

20.06.15
We had planned an somewhat-early rise and trip to THE attraction in the area - Bokor National Park - together with our fellow bike-tour-mates from the day before. And that's just what we did. We shared a Tuk Tuk into town, rented motorbikes (I opted for the passanger seat behind Mo) and had a noodle-soup-breakfast in a local shack. After a twenty minute drive out of Kampot town came the turn off into the national park. The road up to the top is said to be one of the best in Cambodia. Not too difficult, since most of the roads here are quite bad. The reason for this beautiful, wide, pristine, serpentine strip of cement, however, is a sad one. Not too long ago, a Chinese developer leased the land for 99 years from the Cambodian government with the plans of turning it into a landscape of resorts and casinos. The hacking up of the mountain as well as construction has already begun. The monster of master plan is displayed when you get to the top and it is scary.

But back to the beauty of it... The drive up alone makes the trip worth it. One and a half hours of winding road, views into the valley and of the ocean and Kampots salt fields. Lush green rainforest-like growth and around every bend the air gets fresher and cooler. Halfway up, we had to pitstop to put on jackets.

On the top, there are a few things to explore. We tried our best to ignore the ugly giant of a casino smack in the middle of it all, but it kind of forces itself into your view, no matter what. So we hit the accelerator and sped past to the old catholic church, a small red brick chapel with an eerie feel to it. Just as we arrived, the fog rolled in, covering up everything further than 10m in front of you. A small path behind the church lead to a view point that not many of the local tourist ventured to. Boy, did they miss out. It was the highlight of the trip. The view plumeted down the entire mountain into a valley of green and reached up to the ocean right in front of us. The wind was howling, threatening to blow you off you feet. From the right, the fog swallowed up everything in its path and then heavy gusts blew it away from below. We watched this procedure a few times, the scenery below us vanishing and reappearing within minutes. Too cool! We were on top of the world!

From there it was a short ride to the abandoned Hillstation and casino from former French glory times. The cement structure used to be a getaway for foreigners to escape the heat of the city. It opened and closed three times before being left to be reclaimed by nature. Though nature has not really done its thing yet... It is eerie and fascinating, exploring rooms and halls, climbing winding stairways and getting lost in this maze-like building. Puddles of water and the green tinge of moss cover floors and walls. In some rooms, colorful tiles are still laid out, looking like all they need is a good scrub and they'd be ready for royalty. I can only imagine how wonderful it must be to roam it without the many tourists around.

The rest of the time we cruised around the area, weaving in and out of foggy patches (which felt like driving through clouds), visited a somewhat sad looking lake and then headed back down the road and into the heat.

Back on ocean level, the smell of the streets was the first thing I noticed. Was it there before or was my nose spoiled by the fresh mountain breeze? We had stayed dry so far, a feat that not many achieve when visiting Bokor. Aparently it always rains - either on the drive or while you're there. Lucky us. We had lunch in Ecran, a cute little project in town that is basically a cinema showing the newest films, as well as classics about Cambodian history and events. It also offers private screenings of whatever movie they have on their massive list and hosts special events such as comedy nights and live music. They also have freshly pulled noodles and dumplings, which were amazing! And watching how they actually make the noodles was pretty cool.

We were ready to explore town... and made it 10m down the road before it started pouring. Luckily, it was in front of an ice cream parlour. So an oatmeal cookie with cranberry ice cream (or apple pie or brownies a la mode) would just have to do.
We drove back to Ganesha's and it felt like coming home. And yes, we extended one more night :)

My yoga session of the early evening was lovely as always and when the flying termites threatened to disturb my peace, I was helped out by a couple of small geckos and some of the larger ones, that scuttled around my mat and ate every bug in sight.

21.06.15
We had set an alarm to make sure we'd return the motorbikes within our 24h rental period. When we woke up it was raining. After some contemplation, we decided to extend the bike and planned on driving around the area, maybe all the way to Kep, visit the salt fields and pepper farms So we drove into town and had a nice cheap breakfast by the river. After the meal it was still raining. So we sat and talked till around noon, drove a few circles in town, visited the market and took in its overpowering smell of durian (Kampot is the main durian-growing area in Cambodia - the roundabout in the center of town even features a giant durian statue) and then gave up. We returned the bikes and tuk-tuked home.

The rest of the afternoon was spent lounging around. Chatting with fellow travelers and staff. The rain had slowed down the internet to almost non-existant, so planning further travels had to be delayed. Excuses excuses ;) There is something about this place that just wants you to extend and extend and extend... One more night.

In the evening the newly acquired poker table was christened and Mo joined in the fun. I did some advertising and informing about the Philippines and then hung out watching the game until I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore.

22.06.15
More rain. But without a plan or the desire to move much, that was just fine. Plan for the day - pack our belongings at some point, just so we can't use our inability to get our stuff together as yet another excuse to extend. Other than that... A pot of black tea with cinnamon (and a bit of condensed milk) and pancakes with homemade mangojam for breakfast and then enjoy our last day in this peaceful home away from home. Movies, billiards, reading, writing and lounging around. And of course, try more yummy things from the menu.
We ended the night with one last ice cream treat and then fell asleep to the thunder and heaviest rains so far.

23.06.15
More rain. Time to pack up and tuk tuk into town and then bus it to Shianoukville. Am actually a bit sad to go. The days here have been so wonderful - relaxing, active, secluded, delicious... But it's too early on to get stuck somewhere. There's still too much to explore and, as a German saying goes, we still have too many "bumblebees up our butts".

In Germany we have a another saying, when you don't like a person and wish he was far far away from you. You wish him/her "dahin wo der Pfeffer waechst" - to where the pepper grows. Now that I've been here - I'll return gladly.

Phnom Penh - Darkness and Beauty

15.06.15
Travel Day
Our early rise turned into an even earlierrise for me, thanks to people checking out at the break of dawn and not considering the acoustics of our hotel. After breakfast, we walked, fully loaded with bags on our back and front, for half an hour to the bus station in the backpacker area. Our bus was bright red and our seats all the way in front – traveling with a view (including the giant flatscreen tv). Right at the beginning, they collected our passports and asked for 35$ for the visa (though not for me since I’m traveling on my Philippine passport). We had read about this little scam beforehand and knew that the 5$ extra “visa processing fee” meant they would put our passports in a little basket for the duration of the trip and hand them over to be processed at the border. We didn’t protest though, since we had also read about travelers who decided to take care of it themselves and then ended up paying 8$ extra at the border (the “processing fee” of Cambodian immigration officials) or ended up being left by their bus out of spite.
We crept along at a comfortable 50km/h, between sleep and Rush Hour 2.

At the boarder, we watched our 5$ at work – arrival cards were filled out and the visa application form for foreigners (including a signature – haha, Mo’s read “Willy” in fancy script writing). Our passports were handed over in bulk and we stood waiting for our names to be called. It was a strange and uncomfortable feeling being at an official immigration point without passport in hand. After all Vietnamese and Cambodians, I was called. The foreigners had to wait. On the other side, we got back into the bus and drove for 100m and got out again. The first stop had been for the Vietnamese to check if we hadn’t overstayed our visas and now it was time to officially enter Cambodia. Same procedure. Only I had kept my passport and was able to go through immigration all by myself. The old lady, that kind of reminded me of the secretary character in Monsters Inc., barked at me for taking too long with the scanning of hand and fingerprints.
It is a funny system, this boarder crossing ordeal by land. Due to the scams on both sides, for them to earn an extra dollar or two (or five or eight), the records of foreigners entering the countries are almost all incorrect! They don’t have any pictures, as it is actually required, and all signatures don’t match the passports. Oh well… their problem, I guess.

Right behind the border, we drove by one casino after the next. One more hideous and less inviting than the other. We stopped for lunch, which required pushing yourselves in between a crowd hovering around a table and pointing at a dish, which was then plated and thrust into your hands. It was pretty good. When we finished, a Imelda-Marcos-lookalike with a fat wad of bills in her hand came to our table and collected our cash – half in US Dollar, half in the few Cambodian Riel that I had.
The rest of the drive lead though more or less rural roads, dusty and muddy at the same time. A blue sign that read “The People’s Party of Cambodia” errected every 100m or so. A reminder perhaps? The next movie screening was – once again – a Jackie Chan movie. If I remember correctly, many busses (and ferries) in the Philippines like showing them as well. Is it an Asian thing? Is it a bus driver thing? Either way, it’s quite funny.

Our first Tuk Tuk ride from the bus station to our guesthouse showed that there are definitely more cars – and fancier cars, and cars with strange brands I have never even heard of – than in Vietnam.
The Top Banana Guesthouse welcomed us with a glass of iced water and the warning that our room is near the stairs and the bar is open till 1am. It also faces the street. But for 8$ a night – whatever. It was comfortable and clean enough, had a working fan, curtains and was close enough to the bathrooms.

Our first agenda in Cambodia – walk down the promenade along the Tonle Sap river. To get there, we passed the Independence Monument and walked along the wide, green island, where people exercised and hung out and monks in orange robes and yellow umbrellas strolled around barefoot. Feeling a bit peckish, we bought two sticks of barbeque from a street vendor and enjoyed them on our walk. Chicken, a bit fatty, delicious marinade…and a little bone. Hmmm. I waited until Mo had finished the last piece before stating that our first Cambodian food had been BBQ-chicken-butts!
Along the way we saw many construction sights, smelled new smells and noticed the diverse faces of the Cambodian people. Many laughing children and dressed up ladies – definetely not as covered up as in Vietnam. Men passing woven balls or expertly passing a local version of the hackeysack with impressive backwards flicks, sending it soaring from behind. At the beginning of the promenade stood many stalls selling lotus flower arangements in young coconuts – offerings for the busy bustling temple a few meters down. Fortune tellers sat along the pavement, encircled by clouds of incense, tossing candy on the streets. Vendors carted around coolers with cold drinks and baskets full of steamed snails. The buildings were intricately designed Cambodian-style or built with balconies in old French-colonial style. We strolled slowly and took it all in, feeling somehow more comfortable and at ease than in HCMC. Many people spoke English (more or less) and exhuded a more welcoming and friendly atmosphere – like they seemed to enjoy the presence of foreign tourists more.

It got dark and we got hungry. We stopped at a place known for good pizza and Khmer food alike. My green veggie curry was excellent. We washed our meals down with 50cent beer and fresh passion fruit soda. Since the nightmarket was closed, we walked home, this time using smaller streets. After an alley of Happy Girls, Happy Men, Happy Ladies, Double D, Same Same But Different bars and uhm massage parlours, we walked by a closing market where an abundance of fantastic smelling food was being sold. Crickets and larvea, chicken heads and many unidentifiable goodies included.

16.06.15
Rise and shine – Phom Penh awaits!
After a night which definitely showed that the warnings about our rooms were valid – even earplugs weren’t a match for the backpackers’ nightlife going on above us, we had an overpriced breakfast at the hostel and walked to the Genocide Museum Toul Sleng, also known as S21 prison.
With the sun beating down and much of the city not made for pedestrians, we wove ourselves through cars, bikes, construction sights, food stalls, piles of garbage and the occasional person. Coming down the road, you can spot the museum – formerly a prison – formerly a school – from afar. A wall with thick barbed wire surrounding off-white-washed buildings gives it away. A strange atmosphere surrounds you the second you step in. The buildings surround a courtyard – imagine a typical Asian school setting. But instead of playing children (though while we were there, a school outing was taking place), there are grave-like memorials, well kept greenery and a former jungle gym that had been modified to “the gallows”, a torture instrument from which prisoners were strung up by their feet and dipped into barrels of filthy water. The classrooms have yellow and white tiled floors and in some even a chalkboard remains. As we wander from room to room, up three floors and from building to building, the true extent of the horrors that took place here unfold. From visuals – such as iron framed beds with shackles, rooms  divided into 0,8x2m cells by brick or wooden walls, suspicious stains on the bright floors and the many many rows of photographs of prisoners… To the mental – knowing you are actually in a school (all of which were shut down 24h after the Red Khmer revolution), imagining and feeling the atrocities that took place on the ground you walk on, knowing that all (except a literal handful) the people on those photographs were tortured and killed in the most inhumane ways… It was draining. The Pol Pot regime and reign of his Khmer Rouge began on April 17 1975 and lasted just under 4 years. That makes it around 40 years ago. Though the numbers vary, the estimated death toll in this wannabe-utopian socialist era lies between 1,6 and 3 million people. Meaning, of the Cambodian population of 8 million at the time, it is said that every 4th person was killed. Academics and anyone from the more developed cities were enemies of the state. From one day to the next there were no more schools, universities, hospitals, religion was forbidden, currency invalid and ownership anulled. Everyone was evacuated from the city within a day of the Khmer Rouge entering Phnom Penh and forced to work in the countryside. Only those who worked ate. And those who ate, ate next to nothing. People were killed for picking a piece of fruit or trying to supplement their diet of rice with a frog they caught. Even the poor farmers, who supported Pol Pot and his dream of a state in which all were equal, were off worse than before. Khmer Rouge soldiers were recruited as teenagers and forced to carry out every order, in fear of severe punishment if they didn’t. Innocent people were randomly accused of being CIA or KGB agents and tortured till they admitted it. If someone was found guilty, their entire family was imprisoned and killed – “No gain in keeping, no loss in weeding out”. Trying to wrap your head around this history and those figures is excruciating. Today, many Cambodians still suffer from having lost family and friends to starvation, illness and murder. Many people remain missing, families unsure of what had happened to them. Two survivors from the prison (two of seven!), both artists, sit in the museum grounds, ready to tell their tale. What a thought.
We left with heavy hearts, anger and not quite understanding (or wanting to understand) it all and first had find a place to sit and digest what we just experienced.

Dark clouds and the longing for some positive vibes made us postpone our trip to the Killing Fields. Instead, we visited the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda complex in the city center. A stark constrast. Here we found beauty and culture and richness beyond belief. Light rain accompanied us all afternoon, a welcome change after the intense heat of the morning. Tuk Tuk driver laughed at us, as we refused all rides and enjoyed the drizzle.
One shrine more beautiful than the other, the pagodas intricately decorated, gold glimmering everywhere. The impressive buildings with their colorful roofs and well kept grounds were fascinating. Though I must say, the throne of the king did not look very comfortable ;) In the Silver Pagoda stood a lifesize Bhudda (the young, skinny version) made of 90kg of gold and encrusted with over 2000 diamonds, the largest ones having 20 and 25 carats. The floor is covered with 5000 1kg heavy silver tiles and the rest of the pagoda is filled with more bhudda statues, gifts from representatives of other countries and all in all – endless riches!

It was barely 4pm, but our legs were heavy and our backs tired. We planned our next days and onward travels and crashed early (only to be woken by an endless hoard of backpackers – pub crawl maybe? – making their way into and then out of our rooftop bar. Flirting and squealing, pumping up the music and continuing the party on the street. I wish I could sleep like Mo.)

17.06.15
Choeung Ek – The Killing Fields
The morning heat – thanks to a blackout – got us on our feet. We had breakfast in a little vegetarian café down the road, that we had found and had dinner in the evening before. A Tuk Tuk diver followed us there – talk about persistant – and in the end, we agreed to hop on for the ride to the Killing Fields. The road was dusty and smelly, a constant whiff of trash and stagnant water in the air. Just like Toul Sleng, Coeung Ek was quite confronting. The set up for tourists was well made, a memorial stupa and little museum the only added buildings on the grounds. Aside from that, you were left to wander the area on designated paths. The entrance fee included a very well made audio guide. Due to the fact that everyone had headphones on, the atmosphere was quiet and peaceful. The structures that once stood on the grounds had been removed by people that needed building materials after the liberation or expressed their anger toward the regime by demolishing all that reminded of it. In their place stood simple wooden signs explaining what had once stood there. All of the information was given via the audioguide. Craters, now largely covered in grass, indicated some of the over 160 mass graves in the area. Only some where excavated. Many still remain covered in the nearby fields. Some of the excavated mass graves are enclosed by simple bamboo structures and covered by thatched roofs. The ground in these are covered in money and the bamboo poles in colorful bracelets. The voice in your ears tells a very comprehensive history of the Pol Pot regime, supplemented by accounts told by survivors and former Khmer Rouge soldiers. It makes it quite personal and deep.
Even between the chapters, walking from one shady tree to the next,  words for real conversation are missing. Being on the grounds where systematic killings of hundreds of people a day took place, walking amongst their unmarked final resting places and not knowing how many more lie right beneath your feet… Thoughts like those don’t leave room for small talk.
On some paths, bits of cloth stick out of the ground – clothing of bodies still buried. When you look closer, fragments of bone peek out as well. Every few months, the employees of the memorial site gather up more bones and teeth and pieces of clothing that have emerged due to rain and erosion. It is a very constricting feeling and somehow you tread very lightly when walking around.
A map on our flyer shows where in Cambodia they have unearthed mass graves and prisons, some too remote or dangerous (due to landmines) to reach. Strange how mere colored dots on a 3x3cm map can send chills down your spine.
The most gut-wrenching sight, that constricted my breath and brought tears to my eyes was the Killing Tree. A beautiful large old tree that one cannot blame for its history. It was used to kill babies, by hurling them against it, before tossing them into a nearby mass graves reserved for the young and women. The bark was covered in bracelets, paying respect to the souls of the innocent and acting as a veil, as if to cover up this tree’s gruesome history.

It was during this tour that I found out what had become of the instigators of this horrid period in Cambodian history. So far, only the head of S21 prison has gone through a complete trial and found guilty of genocide, war crimes and crimes against humanity. He is also the only leading acteur that has admitted and shown remorse for the things he has done, taking the responsibility for over 10.000 deaths. He got 35 years in prison. Many others are still on trial. Only now. Research and Investigation still ongoing.
Pol Pot and many of his Khmer Rouge fled to Thailand after the liberation by the Vietnamese. He remained the recognized (by Western countries such as GB, Germany, USA, France…) leader of Cambodia for many more years. Him and his party even got a seat in the UN. Only ten years after leaving Cambodia was he put under house arrest. He lived a good life with his family until he died at the ripe age of 73 (1998). More than unjust if you ask me.

The tour ended at the memorial shrine, a tall tower with glass walls from which more than 5000 skulls stare out. You can go in. Squeezed between the outer wall and the glass behing which the bones are marked according to the weapon used to kill that person – it is a very in-your-face experience.
Again, we left feeling sad, angry and utterly baffled at the lines human beings could cross and acts they could committ. How and Why – questions we asked ourselves over and over again.

We were dropped off at the Central Market, a star shaped market building selling everything and anything. We found what we were looking for quite quickly – not interested in watches or clothes – good cheap food! From there we walked to Wat Phom, a temple on a hill, said to be the birthplace of the city. Too bad the park surrounding it was completely dug up and being worked on. It kind of killed the atmosphere.
Wat Ounaloum, another buddhist temple close to the Royal Palace, was closed, but even then, far more atmospheric. Thanks in part to the looming black clouds rising up behind it. By the time we got to the square in front of the Royel Palace, rain was inevitable. We had just enough time to watch children play amongst the thousands of pidgeons, the yellow tiles gleaming against the charcoal sky, before the heavens opened up the floodgates and it poured. We hid behind a fat trunk of a tree with some locals and waited. And waited. And waited. Why didn’t we pack our rain jackets again? After some time, we decided to hop into a Tuk Tuk and head back to the Central Market to eat more street food. Fried fat noodles with greens and beef – by far the best meal we have had so far! And a baguette sandwich, sitting on kindergarden-size stools under a large umbrella with three generations of cambodians ladies.
By the time we were finished, it was semi-dry and we walked home and called it a night. We had moved into a dorm and accordingly, didn’t sleep much. After the bar closed, some guy thought it funny to wake his sleeping friend a few beds down – therefore waking up the entire room. And from the outside, we unwillingly became part of conversations like “Oh my god, I knew you were Swedish, you’re so blond!” and “Happy travels, take care, see you one day in Swiss-land!”. Oh well, that's backpacking for ya!