Siem Reap(ing in the cash from tourists) and Angkor W(h)aaat, I gotta climb up there?!

28.06.15
Travel Day
No hitch, no surprises – A straight-up minibus ride from Battambang to Siem Reap on one of the worst roads I have traveled so far. With potholes like those, every single seat should have their own suspension.

Hard to imagine that Sihanoukville and Siem Reap are in the same country, considering our wet and soggy experience in one and then being greeted by hot and sunny weather upon arrival in the other. Seeing on a map, that our hotel couldn’t be too far, we strapped on our backpacks and walked – into the wrong direction. What could have been a 2min walk turned into half and hour or so and we arrived dripping sweat.

By the late afternoon we were ready to leave the comforts of our air-conditioned room and check out the city. Definitely a change to the lazy and quieter places we had been before. Neon lights, flashy stores, people constantly offering Tuk Tuk, massage or just plain old “you buy”. Large signs spell out the areas of the Old Market, the Night Market and Pub Street – so us dumb tourists don’t waste any time looking at the map. The amount of restaurants and pubs is mind-boggling and the prices were not even close to acceptable for our budget. But since we hd already picked out a place via trusty-ol’ TripAdvisor, we walked straight passed all the mess and through the waiters thrusting their menu into our faces and away from the lights. We had picked, to get our western food fix, an Austrian place that was meant to serve a pretty good schnitzel. It was by the river somewhere hidden in a darker corner and it kept its promise. We shared a giant portion of Schnitzel with Spaetzle and a bowl of potato salad and walked home happy.

29.06.15
Getting-stuff-done days are not very inspiring. Long story short – to get back our taxes and superannuation from Australia, we invested over half a day and waaay too much money in notarizing copies and sending them off. Exciting.

The evening took us deeper into the guts of tourist town – the Markets and Pub Street. Though of course I ended up shopping just a tiny bit, we soon realized that it was just no fun with vendors tugging at your arm and giving you outrageous prices. How silly do you feel, when you end up buying a shirt and a pair of pants for 8$, knowing she had asked for 21$ before. How much more silly do you feel, when you find out the pants already have stitches coming apart and she won’t give you back your money. Even asking travel shops for bus tickets to our next destination, people lied through their teeth about travel time, cost and stops. We did end up finding food that was closer to our budget, but somehow the theme of the evening was “Getting tired of being treated like a fool”. It is kind of sad, when you think about it. The scams that lurk at every corner here, the “foreigner prices” and the pushy people constantly asking you to buy or to tip leave a bitter aftertaste when traveling Cambodia (and probably many other countries). Corruption is common and you know that you cannot even go to the police with issues such as scams in cities or at boarder crossings. Why would you risk the degradation of your country’s reputation? Why would you take every foreign tourist for a fool, when only a small percentage actually still fall for it? Why tarnish the image of the many honest people in your country? Just for the extra dollar? I find it sad. Because I don’t want to talk or even think about my time traveling as “Oh yes, Cambodia is beautiful, BUT…”. And I know you can try and ignore it and deal with it, but that feeling of having to look over your shoulder and the insecurity of “Can I really trust this person?” just seems to grow – and this is not only street vendors, but pretty much any institution. We didn’t arrive here with this attitude and we weren’t looking to develop it, but after only 3 weeks here, it has blossomed. Don’t get me wrong, we haven’t turned into cynical grumpy complain-about-all stuck-up tourists – we are enjoying every second of this journey and see everything as part of the experience – but these are thoughts that just come up along the way – especially in a place like Siem Reap.

30.06.15
ANGKOR WAT
When visiting a site such as Angkor Wat and the surrounding temples in the Archeological Park, you know it will be a day to remember. You are visiting a wonder of the world, a UNESCO World Heritage site and probably one of the oldest structures you will ever see. I don’t think I had ever seen anything built in the early 12th century – before today!

So, as we were doing a very touristy thing to do, we were going to do it the touristy way – Sunrise at Angkor Wat. Our 5am pick up seemed a bit late and it kind of was. We bought our 20$ day passes, which even had our pictures on it, and our Tuk Tuk driver sped past many other Tuk Tuks as he could overtake, to get us to the temple on time. It ended up being more of a sun-had-already-risen moment, but the silhouette of the ancient structure was still quite beautiful and the pictures came out good.

Already here, we were amazed at the amount of people around us – and it is low season! And the amount of vendors and stalls inside the complex. No, I don’t want to buy a scarf or pants or a painting or an instrument or a wood carving or postcards or magnets or a one-dollar guidebook or anything else for that matter. I also don’t want to buy water or a coconut or ice cream or overpriced food. And it doesn’t make it more enticing, when you send the children to invite me to the restaurant either.

As you may have guessed, the beginning of this day was a bit overwhelming. But we shook it all off and escaped into Angkor Wat (while everyone else had breakfast). We decided that a grumbling stomach was worth seeing the temple with less people and watch the rising sun slowly illuminate the towers and walls as we wandered through. And it was! The sheer size of it was very impressive.

Breakfast did not deserve a mention in this blog. And off we rode to the next temple Bayon in Angkor Thom. That’s the one famous for the large grinning faces in it’s spires on top. It gave us our first taste of climbing steep and narrow steps and clambering around between towers.

Baphuon had a long walkway leading up to it, with water as well as many blocks of stone scattered along the side. It was wide and massive and after climbing up the steps, one could walk all the way around in on two levels with great views of the green below. It also bore a sleeping Buddha statue alongside its back-wall – huge and not yet completely restored. To get out, we waked through the grounds of the Royal Palace. Ruins had been completely taken over by nature here, huge tree trunks having wrapped themselves around walls and swallowed them whole or pushed them aside. It is not often that one sees trees that size, an indication that they are probably older than most I’ve ever seen. And then seeing that those trees made their way through stone walls and buildings just makes you realize how ancient these structures really are. To get out of this complex though, many signs and people tell you, that you cannot exit here – here being walkways, stairs and other logical places to exit. Instead, they rope you through an area filled with stalls, where, once again, you are hounded by vendors.

We visited temple after temple, climbed up many steep steps, peered into many impressive galleries, admired ancient carvings depicting history and legends and marveled at the building techniques. All the while sweating profusely, enjoying the wind during Tuk Tuk rides and getting a feeling for the huge area this ancient civilization covered.

Chau Say Tevoda

Ta Keo

Ta Prohm stuck out due to the fact that is not as restored as many of the others. It gives much more of an impression of how these temples were found in the 1800 – dilapidated, collapsed, taken over by nature. One large tree that seems to have sprouted through the roof of one building (and is captured on many a postcard) is especially beautiful

Banteay Kdei

At the end of our morning, which had felt like an entire day, we were happy to head back to our hotel, rest our tired legs, cool off our burning bodies and have a real, decently priced meal.

It was quite the experience to travel back in time and set foot on historical, holy grounds. Though I have to admit, that the spirituality of the place does get tainted by the touristy aspect of it – the vendors calling after you “Lady, only 1$ water for you! You want coconut? You want softdrink? You want souvenir?” and the surprisingly high percentage of tourists that don’t seem to realize where they are. You are visiting the world’s largest religious site and have probably been in the country for more than a day, and you can’t manage to dress appropriately? Any temple you visit, any religious building in any country for that matter, asks that you cover knees and shoulders – valid for men and women alike. And still, hot pants, singlets, short dresses galore! Do you not care, because you are not Buddhist? Are you afraid of tan lines? Or do you justify it with “Everyone else is doing it too”? And I understand that this is a huge income source for the Cambodian tourism industry, but why not even try to enforce the rules that are written on every sign in the complex? You are not allowed to enter the Royal Palace in Phnom Penh or the Cathedral in the Vatican dressed like that… Why be lenient here? 
Just some closing thoughts on an otherwise wonderful and memorable morning.

Needless to say – we were useless the rest of the afternoon.

01.07.15
Another early rise and temple-day. This time, we rented a motorbike and took and hour and a half ride out of town. It started as a very dusty, smelly and nerve-wrecking drive out of Siem Reap, through the morning market area, where cars, trucks, vans and bikes fought to get ahead. Thankfully, it quickly turned into a relaxed drive through the countryside.

Close to our destination, our ride was suddenly not quite as smooth anymore and when we stopped to inspect – flat tire. Luckily, on provincial road, you don’t have to look long to find someone who can repair it. We hobbled along and were pointed onwards by the people in front of their houses, till we got to a hut with a stack of tires in front of it. The guy took a look, found a rip in the inner tube, drove off to buy a new one and repaired it within 15 minutes – all for a (probably touristy) price of 5$.

The temple of the day was Beng Mealea. It used to be completely hidden in the jungle and surrounded by landmines planted by the Khmer Rouge. Most of them in the proximity have been removed, though it is still inadvisable to stray from the paths. The ruins are surrounded by lush green, much of which has made its way into and through the temple over the years. Having left a tiny bit too late and been delayed by the flat tire, we arrived later than planned and didn’t manage to avoid the crowds of Chinese and Japanese tour groups. Luckily, they stayed on the wooden walkway constructed to lead you from the outer wall to the center and back again. We chose to have a local guide join us and show us the way through the collapsed structures. Climbing over the rectangular stones that once stood erect, as pillars or roofs, ducking into rooms and galleries and wandering along the inner and outer moat – it was amazing! Here, nature had completely taken over and only trimmed down partially to ease the passage for visitors. Roots crawled into obstructed doorways and through roofs, covered entire walls and were entwined below and above us. Beng Mealea is about the size of Angkor Wat and it took us about an hour to get to the center – a collapsed tower – and back out again. All along, this very photogenic temple kept us completely enthralled.

The ride home was, thankfully, uneventful. As was the afternoon. We had booked tickets to Kratie at the same place where we rented our bikes. Once again, we watched the scam-attempt unfold right before our eyes. We asked three lovely ladies for prices and they offered us 12$ for the motorbike and 15$ for the minivan to Kratie. In the evening, we went back to get the bike and buy the tickets and some grumpy guy wanted 20$ for the bike and 18$ for the minivan - but grudgingly gave us the prices we had negotiated earlier. Another blow to our trust in the touristic entities here in Cambodia. We were ready to leave and (hope for) and try our luck in Laos.

Sihanoukville Fail and Battambang Win

23.06.15
More rain. Time to pack up and tuk tuk into town and then bus it to Sihanoukville. 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.

23.06.15
Our van to Sihanoukville dropped all passengers off, one by one, at their desired location –up tiny alleys, at Universities, at ferry terminals and guesthouses. All but us. We were told to get off at the last guesthouse and find a Tuk Tuk to take us to Otres Beach. Thanks a lot.
It was raining and the street along the quieter beach of Sihanoukville seemed deserted – lonely potholes and puddles and not a person in sight. Since we hadn’t booked a place, we told the driver to drop us at SeaGarden – recommended by a fellow traveler. Too bad it was fully booked. Too tired and not in the mood for a walk through the rain just yet, we had lunch there and watched the guests do what you do when you’re at the beach but can’t go to the beach – read, play pool and poker, eat and sit around staring into nothingness.
We walked along the desolate road and asked here and there if rooms were available – everyone had vacancies. Too bad they were either too expensive or just not very inviting. We decided on Mushroom Point by the beach – one of the few places that had bungalows right by the beach. And as the name suggests, they looked like mushrooms. So did the lamps, the beach huts and bathrooms. We were the only guests by the beach, as the other guests had opted for the branch on the other side of the road.
The round room was simple – a mattress on the floor, a mosquito net, a shelf, a fan. And a safe. Signs saying “This season brings rain…and theft” were posted everywhere and our welcome speech here was all about making sure we lock up all valuables in the safe at all times, make sure we padlock our door from the inside when we sleep and not leave anything around the periphery of the room, because people could grab through the thatched walls. Wow. We had heard about Sihanoukville’s reputation for being a bit dodgy around the edges, but this seemed downright dangerous. But we followed instructions and hoped for the best.

It continued to rain and we continued to get wet. Walking from our room to the bathroom, to the reception, to the convenience store… We sat around under a mushroom-shaped beach hut and stared into the waves and the solid gray horizon. And when that got old, we hid in our hut and watched movies. Our speakers were not really a match for the breaking waves outside our window. It was really too bad that we couldn’t unwrap our hut and free it from the tarps that kept us dry – it would have been a fantastic view.

When dinnertime came along, we decided to splurge and order something from the overpriced menu, but as it turned out, the cook had left the building. I guess two guests weren’t reason enough to hang around. So we donned our cold and moist rain jackets and wandered the empty street. We ducked into the first place that seemed reasonably priced, only to find out that the menu they had put outside showed fake prices. Oh well. In addition, we had strolled into a pub with a pure Russian crowd. The looks we got reflected that they wanted us there as much as we wanted to be there. But hunger won and we stayed.

After devouring our meal we crawled back into our dark little cave, watched more movies and fell asleep to the crashing waves, whipping wind and constant pitter patter on our roof.

24.06.15
Nope, the sun did not come out tomorrow. It continued to rain and we continued our routine of finding food, staring at the ocean for a while and then hiding and watching movies. Somewhere in between, we checked the weather report and, seeing no improvement whatsoever – not even a glimmer of hope – we booked tickets to Battambang for the next morning. Our plan of going to Koh Kong to do the amazing-sounding tour into the Areng Valley and see the Cardamom mountains by bike, kayak and on foot was cancelled due to weather conditions – damn you rain!
So, not much else to report and no pictures to show (since I didn’t bring my waterproof housing for my camera). Otres Beach is probably quite beautiful, but we got out of it was two days of wet feet, a bag full of moist (turned smelly) clothes and a reality check about traveling during the rainy season.

No pictures of this chapter exist for fear of our cameras.

25.06.15
Travel Day
…and oh boy, was it a travel day. We woke up to the sound of – silence. No rain?! Whatever. Half asleep – before 6am, this is a given – we emptied our safe and tuktuked our way into town to catch our bus. Of course, it started raining again - for exactly the 2 minutes that we walked from our cottage to the tuk tuk, just so we would get nice and wet again. We had gone with the budget option and booked the slightly cheaper bus line, used mostly by locals. We stopped every few minutes in town and every few-minutes-more once we hit the highway. On board entertainment consisted of a very old, Khmer-dubbed kung fu movie followed by karaoke videos of Cambodian pop(?!). I finished by book, started a new one and read that one halfway – yes, the trip was that long. Also due to the fact that we were suddenly in Phnom Penh again and waiting for the next bus. We had no idea that this was going to happen and nobody had bothered to explain it to us, aside from chasing us out of the bus and pointing us towards the next ticket booth.
By then, we had been traveling for over 5h. Our second bus left an hour later and again, we picked up people along the way and made many many stops along the way. The final stop was by a tiny little roadside stall selling fruit shakes. Everyone got off the bus and so did we. After some time, we deducted that our bus had broken down. Once again, nobody bothered to fill us in. So there we were, standing by the side of the road, watching one group of Cambodians take dozens of pictures, posing next to our broken bus. Luckily, it only took about 45minutes or so for another bus to pick us up and by 8:30pm – after 14h of travel – we finally arrived in Battambang.

It was a huge relief to see that our hostel – Here Be Dragons - really had sent a Tuk Tuk to pick us up and in no time, we were checked into our very large room and ate our first real meal of the day, before crashing into a coma-like sleep.

26.06.15
Battambang Day Tour
Our trusty and fun-spirited Tuk Tuk driver DJ had invited us to join a day tour around Battambang – the more the cheaper per person. So we did. Along with an Aussie couple that has been working and traveling the globe for two years and is now cycling through Asia to get home (respect!) and a Kiwi girl, we embarked on a tour of Battambang’s highlights.

First stop: the Bamboo Train. To cope with the infrastructural chaos the Khmer Rouge had left behind, Cambodians created norries, flatbed “trains” consisting of a bamboo platform on wheels. While they used to be pushed along the rails using poles, much like a gondola, they now have little motors which can speed things up to 40km/h. We boarded one of those contraptions and took a 12km ride through the countryside. Left and right we were encased by bushes, through which we caught glimpses of the widespread rice fields that cover much of Battambang Province – the biggest rice producing province in Cambodia. Looking ahead, the tracks were definitely no longer straight and gaps every few meters cause the norrie to clatter and bang. If it weren’t for the cushions, we would have left with black and blue backsides. And what to do when you’re facing a head on collision with another norrie that is on its way back? You get off, take apart your train into three parts – bamboo platform and two sets of wheels – let the others pass and put it all back together again. And smile for the cameras of the other tourists, that find it hilarious that you are standing next to train tracks in the middle of nowhere.

Next stop: Some Killing Fields and prison temple called Wat Somrong Knong. Across from some newer temples sits the old, gray, locked up temple which was used as a prison during the Khmer Rouge era. The birds have occupied the nooks and crannies of the roof and the windows are all boarded up. It is no longer in use, but stands as a memorial for the horrors that took place there. Just behind the newer structures lay the former killing fields and mass graves. Battambang, being an important trade city back then, suffered badly as well during the Pol Pot regime. The memorial Well of Shadows, built on the site of a former killing field and across from a mass grave that today is a pond, looks like many of its kind – skulls and bones encased in a glass edifice. In addition, bas-reliefs depicting scenes of the life during the Khmer Rouge surround the two large tiers it sits upon.

A typical just-for-kicks stop followed: The Crocodile farm. We followed a dirt road, stopped by a large metal gate and walked into what seemed from the outside like a normal residential property. Just a few meters down a path and up a few stairs – and beneath us lay hundreds of crocodiles! The enclosures were small only because of the massive amount of crocs inside them. And they were surprisingly active, unlike most statue-like crocs in the zoo, where you’re never really sure if they are still alive. Here, we watched some take a dip, wrigeling out from underneath the pile, clambering up the steep concrete beach. Before we left, we got to hold a 1 week old baby. Yes, he was adorable and no, it didn’t bite or poop (apparently they don’t start biting till they are 8 months old – so don’t forget to ask its age next time you come upon a croc).

We went back to the hostel for some lunch and down time, before hopping back into the Tuk Tuk and journeying on to Phnom Sampeou. This hill is home to a confusing mix of temples that look like they are covered in cartoons with strange and colorful animal statues around it, yet another gruesome piece of Khmer Rouge history in form of three killing caves (need I further explain?) and, at the very top, a temple surrounded by monkeys (the banana eating kind) and more monkeys (the big white sandals-with-tennis-socks wearing kind that are dumb enough to bring a plastic bag of bananas to a temple surrounded by monkeys and then wonder why they aren’t being left alone). The view from up there was beautiful! It is always amazing to be standing on a hill, when the countryside around you is as flat as can be. Luckily, the week or so of rain had already worked its magic and the rice fields below were already a juicy shade of green.
The way down was a long set of stairs, that left my knees wobbling at the bottom. DJ took us to his secret spot to watch the bats emerge from their cave, away from the tons of tourists standing by the road, gawking into the sky. His spot required a steep rocky climb to the mouth of a small cave. He gave us guards for our nose and mouth against the smell and then we stood there and waited. A team of bat-researchers waited as well, readying their net to catch some specimens. The mosquitos were fierce and the white rocks came alive with cockroaches. The buzzing in the cave became louder and after a while, bats started flying in. IN?! For the longest time, it looked like bats from another cave were coming by for a visit, until, after a breathtaking sunset, a steady stream of little black bats came flying out of the cave. We watched just as long as light would allow a safe descend. 

It was dark by the time we were on our way home. We noticed some commotion by the side of the road. An accident. There were too many people for me to see anything, but DJ pulled over and then told us some of the people involved were from his parents village and therefor he wanted to make sure they are okay. Mo got off and headed over. With DJ as his translator and mediator, he assessed the lady that had fallen. She was shaken up and possibly even had a broken ankle, but managed to get back on with the two other people she had been riding with and left. Only then did someone bring attention to the other guy – the man that had probably committed the accident (we never really found out what exactly happened). He was lying by the roadside, in and out of consciousness. No helmet and a slight whiff of alcohol on his breath. I have to admit, I stayed in the Tuk Tuk for all this commotion – there were too many people standing around as it was and I am not someone who can stomach the sight of physical distress. In waking moments, the man was ready to get up and leave, which Mo and other men around him tried to prevent adamantly. He was bleeding from one ear and according to those by his side, had a fractured skull. DJ called an ambulance – or at least tried to. The police had their phone turned off (on a Friday night) and the ambulance didn’t have a driver. So there we were, holding down a man who was trying to avoid hospital bills by walking off with a fractured skull, Mo monitoring him and making sure he stayed alive and the ambulance took its sweet time. When it finally arrived after around 45minutes, the drivers rolled out the stretcher and let everyone else heave him onto it (almost dropping him in the process). They wheeled him in, closed the door and that was it. Both drivers got back into the front seats and drove off.
Definitely an experience that shows – do not, under no circumstances, no matter now good your travel insurance is, get into an accident in Cambodia.

What a day it had been! Still shaken, we were all ready to get home, get some food and put our legs up… But, as our luck would have it, the Tuk Tuk had other things in mind. It just stopped working. Just like that. DJ immediately called his friend to pick us up, but after a day like that, we couldn’t just leave our driver by the side of the road. So we got out and pushed him all the way home. It was surprisingly light for such a big thing. We definitely got some laughs out of the people around us – not often they see 4 white people and a semi-brown-person-they-cannot-place pushing a Tuk Tuk through the night.

Home. Tired. Hungry. But before food, a shower was much needed, as we kind of smelled strongly like bat piss. But by the time we got back downstairs, although timed correctly, the ladies in the kitchen had decided they didn’t want to cook anymore. So we got us some 1$ fried fat noodles outside and enjoyed those instead. Our hostel had a “Cocktail Party” going on, with 2$ drinks all night. So we sat and decompressed and talked till 2am – a new staying-up-late record of our travels.

27.06.15
It was a day for rest and a day for slow movement. A chill morning in the hostel went over into a chill day strolling around town. We visited the four places to visit in the self-named Arts District and then ducked into the Seeing Hands massage parlor. There, wearing hospital scrub like outfits, we let ourselves be kneaded and stretched and painfully reminded of muscles we didn’t even know could be tight by blind masseurs. Man, do they know their stuff! It was wonderful and we zombied out of there with tiny eyes and our brains temporarily out of order – for the rest of the afternoon.

In the evening we stepped out again and watched the nightlife by the river. Much like in other places we had been to, people were exercising, line-dancing, playing ball, socializing… It was as if all of a sudden the entire population of Battambang came out to play. And eat. We followed suit (with eating - not line-dancing).