This is what we did today...

...to all of our friends and family, and a very happy New Year.  I'm off to light the barbecue...

I spy, with my little eye...

...a five foot long monitor lizard a few yards from our front door, preying on the neighbour's chickens. Oh, and a bright flash of turquoise in front of me has just signalled the arrival of the local Kingfisher, landing on the boat moored in front of the house. Welcome to Koh Yao Noi, a relatively untouched slice of Thai island life situated midway between Phuket and Krabi.  The Waterhouse is simply breathtaking and we have done little more than sit on the veranda reading our books while watching the little wooden fishing boats come and go as the tide slides in and out under us.

Monitor Lizard - huge!

After four months of restaurants, bars and cafes, this fully equipped kitchen was a very welcome sight.

Somewhere to relax...

...with a pretty good view:

And the view from the bed is pretty nice too.

Can we stay forever?

Bangkok Boils

A heavy dome of smog descends on the city of Bangkok as the sun appears over the corrugated roof tops, setting the streets ablaze in an inferno of heat and sealing it's inhabitants inside an immense pressure cooker which rattles and fizzes with increased ferocity as the hours pass. Tuk-tuks, their drivers chugging down tiny medicine bottles of Red Bull, buzz through the narrow alleyways, swerving frantically around the street food vendors who push their aluminium clad carts along the kerbside. The whine of engines, the shrill calls of the street hawkers and the growing ring of crickets and cicadas echo around the fresh white walls of our forth floor hotel room. In the tree outside, a bird begins it's whistle like chant, drawing the local cockerel into a lengthy discussion which forces my eyes to open and another day in the world's hottest city to begin.

Bangkok is like a solar powered blender, blitzing up all of the best parts of our favourite cities with a splash of Thai spice. It is a place where the East meets the West, where cultures from every part of the world come together, where tradition swirls with modern technology spawning a seemingly autonomous monster of a city which roars along at light-speed, catching everything that happens to pass between it's heels and kicking it into the fray. Roads on top of roads, sky-trains and elevated walkways, it's sometimes difficult to know where the ground is. The place really comes to life at night when the heat of the day fades and neon lights cast a warm glow on the pleasure seekers below. Thai restaurants spread diners far and wide across the pavement on tiny plastic chairs, the zingy aroma of citrus and chili float in the air alongside the frantic intermittent chatter of Thai teens, broken only as they take long swigs from dewy bottles of local beer. As the energy builds, the bars begin to swell. Bangkok has everything from giant, booming emporiums of bass driven dance music, to dark, cosy dives serving bourbon and rum.  The latter being our favourite.  Long, narrow rooms cut between two buildings with makeshift bars built from scrap wood and nails, their walls adorned with vintage record sleeves and faded photographs of the much beloved Thai King meeting Elvis.  Somewhere int h shadows, a blues guitarist concocts silky smooth licks behind a twisting veil of cigarette smoke.

Between Bangkok's dizzying lights, the spires of gold edged temples sparkle in the moonlight and the steady twinkle of distant skyscrapers fills in the gaps, forming an enshrining wall around everyone and everything, a panorama broken only by the wide meandering river, a dark serpent slicing through the city which roars and gargles with the engines of public water buses, tourist friendly long-tails and giant glitter and glass party boats.

Bangkok held us captive for one week and we sweated our way through the busy streets each day, avoiding the many scams and cons, taking in as much as we could possibly endure before the heat devoured us and forced us to seek the shelter of our hotel room or a chilly movie-theatre. We drank far too much Thai rum in a tiny bar rammed with local college kids who took turns to play guitar, sing and beat-box (very well); we peered inquisitively into the clubs of the red-light district before making our escape; we strolled along miles and miles of marble flooring in various shopping malls; we watched the sun set over the river from a crooked little bar on the floating wooden ferry boat pier, and wandered in wide mouthed amazement through an enormous late night vintage market, set around a disused railway station.  Spread across the open train yards and tucked inside various wooden storage sheds and vast warehouses, the entire scene was lit by strings of sepia tinged fairy lights which gave light to some of the coolest vintage cars, clothes, antiques and furniture we've ever seen... Oh, and there was also one of the biggest markets in the world.

But all good things must come to an end and a couple of days ago we took a sleeper bus from Bangkok to Phuket, and this morning, a speedboat from Phuket to the sleepy island of Koh Yao Noi, where the majestic Waterhouse waited for us. This three bedroom wooden house, built on stilts over the sea and accessed via a small bridge, will be home for the two of us over the Christmas week. We collected a few cheap decorations on our way here and with the help of the Mothers (and the Royal Mail) who both sent festive care packages in the mail, we now have a very Christmassy looking living room. The tide is in and the jade coloured sea is lapping just a metre or so below my feet. The veranda and a large glass of red wine are calling...

Exploring Sukhothai

To break up the long journey between Chiang Mai and Bangkok, we made a short stop at the Sukhothai Historical Park.  Taking to rented bicycles once again, we spent a day pedalling through the dry heat, exploring the remains of the many ancient temples and shrines which lay hidden among the trees in this large  Khmer complex.  Giant stone statues of Buddha, many lovingly wrapped in swathes of saffron coloured silk, sit cross legged on crumbling plinths, gazing serenely down on the tourists and long lines of monks who shuffle their way through the ruins.

We are now firmly back in the gritty city life of Bangkok - an amazing city that has been thrilling us for almost a week now.  Tomorrow we leave for Phuket and then take a ferry to the island of Koh Yao Noi where we will spend Christmas.  Hopefully someone will inform Santa of our whereabouts...?

Back to Thailand

Chugging across the narrow expanse of river separating Laos from Thailand, we were both very much looking forward to getting back to some of our home comforts.  Three weeks in Laos had left us "riced out" and in such a poor country, finding decent food was a chore.  Chicken, rice, noodles, chicken, vegetables and rice:  the most common options when dining out.  It wasn't all bad, and we did have a delicious wood oven pizza in Luang Prabang with lightly smoked pepperoni and a doughy yet crisp base - it even came with a free beer.  

But again, for a country where many people still live in single room wooden huts and a deep vein of communism still runs through their lives, food is little more than a means to survive.  When speaking to a volunteer at a social mobility charity in Huay Xai, he told me that the Lao people simply do not understand many western concepts.  Enjoying an evening out to a restaurant, for example, or that of competition in business - even in some cases, the meaning of profit.  For them, owning a business was merely 'something to do to survive', rather than a way of making money (or at least, making more money than your neighbour's restaurant, bar, cafe or shop).  And indeed, without the amount of choice consumers in developed countries are used to, what would they spend 'more' money on anyway?  There are no Ikeas, there is no Amazon.Laos, they don't have giant retail parks to while away a Sunday afternoon in.  Some may argue that this is a good thing, but given the levels of deprivation we witnessed, the romantic portrait of communism starts to crack, particularly when you learn that the government (at local and national levels) make life for foreign charities trying to help, very hard indeed.

So when food poisoning struck yet again, being in a town with a pharmacy that opened as and when the owner felt like working, and a convenience store that only had about ten products on its shelves, it all got a little frustrating.  We needed little more than a pack of diarrhoea tablets and a few cold bottles of Gatorade to re-hydrate our systems, neither of which we could buy.   It got even more disheartening when, upon recovering, one finds the ubiquitous rice and chicken combinations the menus of every restaurant in town when seeking a homely meal to comfort a battered digestive system.

You must forgive us then for not indulging in local Thai cuisine at the first opportunity (as worldly travellers no doubt should) as, upon arriving in Chiang Mai (northern Thailand), we spotted an American bar/grill near our hotel and walked straight in to feast on giant bowls of chili cheese fries and ice cold glass bottles of Coca-Cola - it was bliss.  We are now very much looking forward to a month in Thailand, where the exotic sits side by side with the familiar.  We can sit on plastic seats and eat Thai street food one night and have a mountainous burger the next.  Beer and massages are still cheap and in many places, a Thai curry will set you back less than pound.  7 Elevens provide cheap snacks and drinks on every corner and Boots, Tesco and Starbucks are never far away.  It does feel a little bit like cheating, but having been away from home for so long, a familiar sight, smell or sound can be an extremely welcome addition to a day of exploring - many Thais even dig Jesus so we've even seen a few christmas trees, which Rosie is very happy about.  While we flick through photos of friends and family playing in the snow at home, we're slapping on the sunscreen and downing iced smoothies in curb-side cafes.  The temperature is thirty-something degrees and we're about to head even further south.  It's going to be a Christmas to remember

Country Synopsis: Laos

Likes - The scenery.  Laos is a beautiful country.  The bus journey from Vientiane to Luang Prabang was particularly memorable.  At one point, while snaking our way through a high altitude pass, the view from the window was like something out of Lord of the Rings.  Enormous jagged lumps of rock formed a mountain range like nothing I'd ever seen before.  Near vertical cliffs of splintered grey stone stretched thousands of feet up into the sky, puncturing the rolling green hills of the valleys and grasslands far below, before tearing through the clouds and falling straight back down to earth again.  Each peak grew higher than the last, forming a steadily climbing horizon growing the north and the south, culminating in one single behemoth of a mountain may as well have had giant winged dragons circling around it's cloud capped summit.

Dislikes - Food poisoning.  I won't go into details, but when toilets in bars and restaurants often don't even have a sink (and the few that do don't have soap), it was pretty inevitable that we'd spend a large proportion of our three weeks in Laos fighting off increasingly resilient bacteria.  This isn't to say that Laos is particularly "dirtier" than Vietnam, Cambodia or China, it's just that during our time there, something got in us....something evil.

Favourite Beer - Like the good wholesome communist country that it is, there is really only one on offer. The imaginatively named, available everywhere at just a few pence, Beer Lao.  Some places also stock a stronger and darker version called (naturally) Beer Lao Dark which I didn't get round to trying but heard good things.

Favourite Meal - The aforementioned pizza in Luang Prabang's Hive Bar.  Sat in a tropical garden, under the stars and with a scattering of candles illuminating the overhanging palm trees, it was a perfect setting for a near perfect pizza (it just could have been bigger!).  Oh, and then there was a fashion show and hip-hop dance performance on the makeshift stage beside us - only in Asia!

Favourite Day - The Gibbon Experience day one. An exhilarating off-road ride into the middle of nowhere sat in the back of a Toyota Hilux, an incredibly demanding hike through thick jungle followed by a couple of hours soaring over the treetops on zip-lines before spending a night in a three storey tree-house (and then doing it all again the next day!).

Crossing the Mekong to Thailand

In testament to our adventures, our camera is now full of muck and dirt, but behind the dark shadows lies a rather nice photo of a Thai statue! 

Having cycled from the top of Thailand's forth highest mountain, we stopped to admire the view.

Jungle Boogie

We return!  Muddy, tired, a bit battered and bruised, and very sad that our three days at "The Gibbon Experience" are over.  This was probably the one stage of our trip we were looking forward to the most.  Upon first reading about it in the Lonely Planet guidebook in the dark depths of winter 2011, we immediately scrambled to the computer to make a reservation and begin counting down the months.

And slowly, the twenty-eighth of November approached as we made our way across Laos to the sleepy border town of Huay Xai, where the rolling hills of Thailand lay a few hundred metres across the Mekong River.  This bottle-neck of a town, where scores of backpackers collect to make the short hop between countries, is home to a small office hidden behind a non-descript wooden door on the towns main thoroughfare, with nothing but a hand painted sign to point the way to one of the highest rated, most raved about attractions in all of Asia.

The project was set up to preserve the habitat of the black crested gibbon - one of the rarest mammals in the world.  Instead of hunting these incredible creatures and the other exotic inhabitants of the jungle (often for use in Chinese herbal medicines) the local poachers are now the guardians of the forest, keeping loggers at bay and leading nervous tourists into the enormous Bokeo Nature Reserve in search of these elusive creatures.  The proceeds of this eco-tourism are reinvested back into the project in the hope that the gibbons might flourish once again.

Now, the first thing to know about the Gibbon Experience is that it is not your average wander into the jungle.  I fear that nothing can really convey the experience we have just had.  Neither words nor pictures will truly express what we have done, but I will try and provide a small snapshot of three days which we will never forget.

...

Crossing a wide rice paddy, the sun scorches the ground around us, filling the air with the thick scent of sweltering leaves and steaming hedgerows, the sickly must of childhood summers in the countryside, clumps of cut grass at the edge of a sizzling playground.  Single file, we march along a narrow track cut into the long grass.  Ahead, the thick, seemingly impenetrable jungle bursts upwards from the ground, drawing the weaving path into darkness.  Steep hills blanketed in heavy, twisted layers of vegetation swoop up towards the sky, blotting out the sun as we approach with interlocked webs of branches and ferns.  Our guide presses on, slipping silently into the undergrowth and leading us into the shadows.  The air becomes damp, heavy and ominous; the dank smell of the forest  hitting us like a face-full of rotting leaves, with unfamiliar hints of flowery perfume reaching us from afar.  As the sky above becomes nothing but a few scratches of light through a ceiling of greenery, the noise of the jungle fills our ears.  Buzzing, chirping, siren-like wailing, rustling and singing - birds, insects and who-knows-what else.  A slick path of cocoa coloured mud, the ground squirms with ants, termites and leeches as we tread deeper, stepping over fallen tree trunks and ducking through dark dens of broken bamboo branches.  The path steepens.  Roots, surfacing through the mud like snakes, act like steps and pull us upward.  The sweat drips from my nose as I gaze down and spot my next foot-hole.  My tee-shirt is saturated.  We climb.  Reaching an initial summit, I stop for water, handing the bottle to Rosie who grins with glee through flushed cheeks.  "We're in the jungle," she says.

The path drops us down towards a shallow creek and we pick our way upstream, hopping from rock to rock before climbing slippery banks to another trail.  Checking the ties which seal my trousers around my boots, I spot a leech inching it's way up my leg, craning in circles, sniffing for a point of entry.  I flick it to the ground before it gets too high.  I check Rosie's back for any which may have fallen from the trees.

The path climbs again and my heart rate quickens with each step, my legs heavy and shaking, the heat sapping my energy and my face glowing.  The trail twists and turns, taking us along narrow ledges with steep drops into nothingness.  A haze of steam hangs in the air, turning whatever sunlight can reach us to misty beams of amber falling in broken shards to the ground.  We pull ourselves up on branches, squeezing out every drop of strength to fight a gravity which drags us down harder than ever, heaving ourselves towards what we know awaits us at the top, peering ahead for daylight and the eventual summit of this endless hill.  

Having hiked for some two hours, a small clearing marks the end of our struggle.  Off to the side, from within a tiny shelter made of dried banana-palm leaves, a second guide appears.  In his hands he carries climbing harnesses.  Seven red faced tourists - seven harnesses.  Having strapped ourselves in, checked our knots and reminded ourselves of the contents of the safety video we watched back in town, we step nervously towards what we know we must do.  And then, one by one, hooking ourselves onto a 600 metre-long high tension stretch of steel cable, we experience what we all came here for.  Zip-lining.

Attaching my safety line first, I lower my roller onto the cable.  Gripping the rubber brake with one hand, I wait nervously for the call of 'okay' from the other end (apparently a wooden platform attached to a tree on the other side of the valley).  My legs wobble slightly and my chest pounds against the straps of my rucksack.  The noise of Rosie's roller stops and the cable falls still in my hand.

'OKAY!' she bellows.

I take a few steps, skipping along the dirt until the harness takes my weight and the ground drops from beneath me.  I tuck my legs up and I'm airborne.  I gather speed, the the wind begins to build, the earth falls completely away into the steamy depths of the forest.  Whizzing along a small tunnel cut through the trees, I spot clear sky ahead.  With a few whips of overhanging branches, I burst out of the forest and into the open air.  I'm flying, I'm actually flying.  The tops of towering trees sway far below me, the ground an unthinkable distance below them.  A wave of emotion barrels over me.  Adrenalin hammers out my exhaustion.  I laugh, gasp and choke simultaneously  and the wind sucks away any sound I manage to make.  Laid out to my left, I can see the entire basin of the forest, immense hills and mountains reaching into the fuzzy distance, narrow pillars of smoke rising into the sky from the hill tribe villages and a sea of fluffy clouds gathering on the horizon.

At times, we were easily 100m from the ground.

I'm quickly plunged back into the awaiting jungle and I spot the platform onto which I must land, with Rosie waiting with a beaming smile beside it.  Squeezing the brake I slow down and the jungle floor rises up to meet me again.  Landing with a satisfying thud, I'm left speechless.  My mouth hangs open as my wobbly hands release me from the cable.  'Okay!' I call, before the next person begins their descent.

Rosie prepares for landing

We cross around seven cables in total, having hiked for three or four hours, before the shadows falling over the valley stretch long and far through the warm glow of the setting sun.  'Now we go to tree-house,' says our guide.  Hooking on to the final cable of day one, we emerge from the forest to find ourselves flying towards our home for the night.  A tree-house of epic proportions clinging to the tallest tree in the area, overlooking the top of the canopy and the wide sweeping valley sweeping westward through the rolling hills.

Yes, as well as creating a staggering network of zip-lines across the park, seven tree-houses were also constructed, each accessed solely by cables.  These veritable jungle mansions, hanging around sixty metres from the ground, are truly the stuff of childhood dreams.  They each have a rain-water shower, a porcelain toilet, electric lights, a sink and space for eight people to sleep - ours even had three floors!.  After we'd zipped one by one in through a 'window' in the living area, we staggered around in amazement at what would be our home for the next two nights.

As well as the incredible venue, the hospitality was excellent (especially considering that we were hours on foot from the nearest village).  Throughout our time in the tree, fresh Lao tea, platters of fruit, steaming meals of rice, meat & vegetables, toast, jam, eggs and cassava chips - all were zipped in to us from a kitchen hidden somewhere in the forest which provided three meals a day plus snacks to seven separate tree houses throughout the complex.  We even saw a gas canister strapped to a bamboo pole whizzing across the valley, held by two guides who whooped with glee as they soared through the sky.

Back to day one.  'See you in the morning,' our guide said before leaping out of the house and disappearing into the oncoming darkness.  The sun sets quickly this close to the equator and pretty soon the light of a full moon was beaming through the misty valley below us like a search lamp, illuminating the forest floor and coating the trees in platinum frosting.  Having devoured our evening meal and shared travelling stories, we all sat in quiet reflection, all of us exhausted and overwhelmed by the day's activities. In the eaves above us, rats began to scurry for food, giant huntsman spiders lurked menacingly, their eyes glistening in the light of our head torches, and flurries of moths descended.  The creatures of the night were coming to life.  With our eyes getting heavier by the minute, four tent-like sheets were strung from the roof beams and their edges sealed tightly around mattresses laid on the floor, protecting us from mosquitoes and the vast array of creepy crawlies which swarmed around us in the darkness.  Despite the noise of the forest's nocturnal inhabitants and the frequent movements and scratching outside our little "tent", we drifted off within minutes and slept a long, deep sleep that only a hard day of physical activity can muster.

We awoke the next morning to the sound of the guide zipping in with tea and breakfast and the gentle patter of rain.  Lifting the side of the tent, we witnessed a tide of mist rolling up the valley in large plumes.  With nothing more than a few struts of wood between this incredible sight and my pillow, I don't think we'll get a room with a view like this for quite a while!

Cold, but well worth it.

Squat a view?

After breakfast, we each donned our harnesses and prepared for the leap of faith we'd been dreading since arriving.  Our exit - a platform, hanging from the side of the house and accessed through a small sprung wooden gate.  Clipping ourselves to the cable and shuffling on our backsides towards the edge, we lowered ourselves out, over a void of nothingness, on to a thin strip of wood on which we sat waiting for the shout of 'all-clear' from the landing platform buried inside the forest on the other side of the valley.

A slight slackness in the cable allowed for a brief moment of free-fall!

This was so, so high!

You now see why we are so sad that it is over.  After eleven hours of hiking over three days, taking in around twenty five cables, two tree houses and one refreshing dunk under a waterfall, we bounced and bobbed back along the single dirt road towards reality, the tyres of the Toyota slipping and spinning in the thick mud and our tired bodies aching for a shower and a soft bed.  It was one of the greatest experiences of my life and thinking about it all brings a lump to my throat...it really was that good.

If you get the chance, we could not recommend The Gibbon Experience enough.  We did the "Waterfall" option which we felt provided a perfect balance between hiking and zipping and allowed us to see more of the jungle (and gave us some well needed exercise!).  Book way in advance (like, several months), pack your walking boots, a sense of adventure and plenty of mosquito repellent.

I should probably mention the gibbons.  Despite the project's name, it's actually quite rare to see them, although on dry mornings (which we did not have) it is apparently possible to hear them singing across the tree-tops.  Although we did not see or hear them, we left feeling happy to have invested in such a worth-while cause while having such an incredible time in return.

The Team (our guides were a lot more fun than they appear here!)

Getting away from it all...

We have left civilisation! We have just spent two days sitting on a slow boat and travelling up the Mekong River to the very edge of Laos for three days trekking in some of the most remote jungle the country has to offer. Our accommodation is now a small hut on legs with bamboo walls, a plastic sheet on the floor and nothing in the window frames but a steel grill and mosquito meshing. It's all good training though as tomorrow morning a jeep will take us on a five hour journey into Bokeo National Park where one of the most anticipated adventures of our trip shall begin. Remember, "DEET" is the word!

Welcome To The Lao People's Democratic Republic

Despite having had fun exploring a giant western style mall (a sight which we had not seen since China) and then seeing the new Bond film, our brief initial visit to Thailand's capital left us with food poisoning which, sadly, followed me tenaciously all the way to Laos.  The welcome cleanliness of the Thai sleeper train was somewhat wasted on me as I lay shivering in my bunk, my stomach cramping, my temperature soaring and my joints aching with every clatter of the track beneath.  Seventeen hours later, another long border wait and a brain rattling tuk-tuk ride, we finally arrived in Vientiane, the capital of Laos, exhausted and feeling very, very ill.  Luckily there is not much to see or do in Vientiane as the first thirty six hours of our stay were spent with me huddled up in bed and Rosie making life-saving trips to the convenience store for bags of ice, pots of jelly and Gatorade.  I did however manage to get out of the hotel during the second evening and we met up with a lovely French couple whom we'd first met in Vietnam in October.

Three nights of illness later and our second spring board stop on the way to our actual destination in Laos disappeared in a cloud of dust behind us as the not-so-V.I.P. double-decker coach weaved and swerved along the narrow mountain road towards Luang Prabang.  Eleven hours of bumping and jolting, with frequent chirps from the box of chickens in the luggage rack downstairs, brought us rolling into town in the cool moonlight, with frequent blasts of lightning illuminating the growing stacks of cloud above the hills which hug the town.

Being a UNESCO World Heritage site, it goes without saying that the place is just beautiful.  Set on a lush green peninsula separating the Mekong and Nam Khan rivers, it is a treasure trove nestled among the jungle, of candle lit bars, of chic Parisian bakeries and of brightly coloured Buddhist temples - their gilt rooves shimmering against the dark outlines of giant palm leaves, their grounds dotted with monks wrapped in deep orange robes.  Riverside restaurants balance on fragile wooden platforms; creaky old structures which hang precariously over the rust red waters on tall bamboo stilts, the strange and exotic plants and animals of the jungle lurking far below where the undergrowth of the riverbank rustles, chirps and slithers constantly.

On all sides of the town, the deep jungle lies just across the river in thick impenetrable layers.  Giant mountains topped with immense slabs of granite wedged into the earth tumble down from the heavens to the water's edge, their outlines constantly converging and crossing, falling and rising, creating stacked layers of verdant countryside broken only by the snaking river, each softened by the increasing distance and silver blankets of wood-smoke which streak across the tops of the valleys like cobwebs.  As the sun sets behind the tallest mountain, a starburst of light spreads out across the vista in golden beams which dance along the dense green edges of the highest peaks and turn the muddied waters of the river to incandescent sparkles of white.  With the horizon exploding into a furnace of colour, an eerie half light descends on the valleys below, plunging us into the cool air of the evening as the candles and fairy lights of town flicker in to life.

Sunset from Phu Si hill

Part of the (ex) Royal Palace

Kayaking on the Mekong River

For Christmas, Rosie now wants one of these.

To The Border!

After a three hour coach journey, a back-breaking three hour queue (with rucksacks) to cross the border into Thailand, and four hours on the front seat of a mini-van, we are now resting in Bangkok for just one day before taking a long train north to cross over to Laos. 

Thailand is a different world compared to Cambodia and I was struck by how a simple line in the sand can cause such change.  Bumpy pot-holed strips of tarmac have become smooth, multi-laned freeways;tin shacks at the side of the road have turned to stone and brick; and the make-shift tables in front of them, selling coke bottles of petrol beside a basket of bananas, have become immense Shell forecourts with Seven-Elevens and car washes attached.  Even the scooter population has plummeted, and shiny new Chevrolet's, Toyota's and BMW's have taken their place.  Driving along on the left-hand side of the road, we could have (almost) been back at home!

So, Cambodia - a flying visit but a memorable one.

Synopsis:

Likes - The people.  So warm and friendly and with a great sense of humour.  One guy, selling silk table cloths, says to us, 'Hey sir lady, you buy table cloth?'

'No, sorry, we don't have a table.' (we really don't!)

'Okay, you buy table cloth, I give you free table.'

Despite the clear widespread poverty, everyone (give or take the odd grumpus here and there) is just so happy and smiley - a truly beautiful nation a million miles from the staring and scowling of China!

Dislikes: The sales patter!  As mentioned above, most of the market stall holders (and some shop keepers), have picked up the phrase 'Hello sir/lady, you buy something'.  Now, I don't know if this is a question or a demand, but as we wandered through markets, you would have this phrase called to you from every direction, at the same time, from everyone.  It got quite frustrating if you simply wanted to window-shop - even more so when you notice that what they are all selling is pretty much the same stuff!  The same touristy 'I love Cambodia' T-shirts, silk scarves, hammocks, wallets made of rice bags and stone sculptures.  But again, it wasn't that bad.  A simple 'no thank you' and a smile was accepted with a smile and a nod of the head and we'd carry on.  Again, lovely people simply trying to earn a living.

Favourite beer: Angkor.  There were only really three on offer.  Angkor, Anchor (which you have to request as 'An chore' to ensure you don't get 'Ang kor') and 'Cambodia'.  Angkor was the most widely available and cheapest.  Often drunk with enormous chunks of ice owing to a lack of refrigerators, it hit the spot after a long day of temple hunting.

Favourite meal:  I'm sorry Cambodia, but it has to be Freebird Bar and Grill in Phnom Penh (serving traditional American fayre).  Run by an American, (Dunk) an ex-bomb disposal worker, it really is the model business.  The friendliest, most genuine staff we've ever met, anywhere, (who clearly love their jobs and are very well looked after by the boss - he even takes them and their families on holiday!), the most efficient service we've experienced on our trip so far, and the best American food we've ever eaten - both inside and outside of The States.  We went twice; the first time I hit the chili dog and fries (served with real baked beans and real cheese) and the second time, well, I went big and did the double chili dog and fries - it was that good.  Rosie had a sloppy joe and on the second visit, Dunk's Grandmother's meatloaf - both delicious.  And, both our meals were all served at the same time - a rarity in this part of the world where food often arrives as and when the chef gets round to cooking it.

Favourite day:  Can I choose three?  The two days exploring Angkor on push-bikes were perfect.  I've said a number of times on this trip - "You know you've had a good day when you have to have a double shower at the end of it" (ie. soap, rinse, soap rinse).  This was true of Angkor.  Sunscreen, mosquito repellent, sweat, dust, blood and muck, all caked and baked onto our skin with some of the most stunning sights I've ever seen as the reward.  Finally, watching the sunrise over Angkor Wat was a memory that won't fade for a while, and come to think of it, may have been the first time I've ever watched the sunrise - I thoroughly recommend it.

Next stop, Vientiane, Laos...

Three Days in Angkor

The ancient city of Angkor, built over one thousand years ago.  The first true metropolis, the world's first city and the first with a population of over one million people.  It was also the seat of the ancient Khmer God Kings for whom over a thousand temples and palaces where built.

We started our tour by pedalling around the 26km 'Grand Circuit' which led us deep into the jungle where some of the most exotic and alluring temples in the world lie hidden among the dense undergrowth.

The first gateway we came across, our first taste of what lie ahead, was astounding.  As we approached, the web of tree branches above began to open, as if the jungle were peeling itself apart to envelop us.  And there, peering down from lichen covered stone towers, three giant ghostly faces carved into the rock, each softened and eroded by a thousand years of heavy monsoon rains and a pounding, blazing sun.  It was as if they had been carved by nature itself.  As the full outline of the structure appeared from the shadows, my hands clamped down  on the brakes, bringing me to a squeaking shuddering stop before I'd even had a chance to take my feet off the pedals.

Ankhor Thom - East Gate

Armed with nothing but a map and a picnic, we explored some fascinating places on that first day, stopping off at the side of the road where only small ticket check points marked the entrances to these spectacular locations.  Some were simple - consisting of little more than a small crumbled outer wall at the end of a dusty track with the ruined remains of a solitary temple in the middle, its brick columns leaning and crooked leaving dark crevasses into which the geckos would dart as we approached.  Despite their relatively diminutive size, we enjoyed exploring these lesser known spots.  In most cases, we were completely alone and well away from the giant battalions of Chinese tour groups who flock to the more tour bus friendly temples. 

One of the nicest things about all of the temples in Angkor is that, more or less, they are completely open for you to explore as you wish - only where deteriorating walls and ceilings pose a danger do you find a "do not enter" sign or a rope barrier.  And explore we did, climbing up into dark chambers, squeezing through tiny doorways and clambering over the stone piles of collapsed structures, long since devoured by the elements and the dense, ever creeping carpet of the jungle floor.

Long, empty roads carried us further into the complex, bordered by dense undergrowth and topped with a twisting ribbon of perfect blue sky.  Giant butterflies fluttered around our wheels, spindly spiders, as wide as my hand, hung from webs stretched high across our path, and armies of termites brought the grassy verges to life, swarming with a moist sizzling sound like oil in a pan.  Eventually, a high wall would appear through the trees.  We would follow it for hundreds of metres before it, and the road, would turn sharply, leading us along yet another vast stretch towards an imposing gate and an entrance into what lay within.

Leaving the bikes under a shady tree, along which ran a motorway of enormous ants, another darkened dusty path took us to the centre of the next, much larger temple site.  Entrance halls, built of darkened rock, dusted with a layer of moss and lichen, led us through to a long raised walkway of crooked stone which disappeared into the shadows.  Intricate carvings and stone reliefs depicting Hindu gods and ancient myths covered every square inch of the stone, and the squawks of bats, hiding deep inside the temples caverns and chambers, sought us through the unknown space ahead.  We moved forward, the dampness of the walls filling our noses, the feverish jungle air bringing sweat to every pore of our flesh.  Long corridors stretched to a tiny speck of light in the distance, a far off doorway perhaps.  Along the way, we stepped into cave-like chambers, each holding the fragmented remains of statues and alters and faintly alive with the sporadic flapping and squeaking of the nocturnal creatures above.  These junction chambers, like internal crossroads, lead both forward and sideways to yet more corridors and chambers - an infinite labyrinth of stone.  As our eyes adjusted to the dark, we looked upwards.  The chamber's ceiling, a terrifying spire of teetering stone blocks, each holding the next aloft like a house of cards, stretched high up to a thumbnail of light which fell down through the darkness in golden shards, the ashen spirals of incense smoke rising up from the makeshift shrines dotted around the walls illuminated in its warm glow.

Eventually, with sweat dripping from our noses, we found it, the centre, the heart of the entire site.  A cathedral like space - vast, consuming, reaching up far higher than any of chambers we'd seen on the way.  A stone plinth stood in the centre of the room, square, with raised edges forming a trough, and a spout like opening on one side as if it once produced liquid.  Within this, five unusual, cylindrical, dome topped ornaments stand in a neat arrangement.  It is like nothing we have seen before, as if placed by the hands of aliens.  The mystery of this sacred place is inescapable.

Banteay Kdei

Other temples stretched as far into the sky as they did across the ground - each outer layer accessed by increasingly steep staircases, all leading to one central shrine perched high above the forest below and again, with an ominous tower of stone resting on top (see the photos on the previous post).

Having cycled just over 40km on day one, discovered and explored seven temples of varying shapes and sizes and having devoured four litres of water each, we crashed into our bed and fell into a heavy sleep beneath the whirling fan which stirred our minds with excitement for the next day's adventure.

Day two was just as thrilling, taking us first to Ta Prohm, also known as the Tomb Raider temple (parts of the Angelina Jolie film were shot here).  At this temple monastery, the forest is actually  devouring the stone, leading to those iconic images of thick tree roots curled around windows and doorways.  In some places, trees grow straight out of the top of the walls and buildings, twisting their roots through them, crushing ceilings and devouring sculptures.  Apart from the obvious Kodak moments, captured while squeezed between one tour group and the next, this temple also offered some of the most serene solitude we'd experienced.  Turning against the guided route signs, we found ourselves alone in a courtyard of collapsed walls and fragile out-buildings - again, with tree routes permeating from every direction.  We crouched through tiny doorways, climbed up over piles of rubble and soon became lost in large parts of the complex no one else seemed to know about, with just the sound of the jungle and the click of the camera echoing around us.

Ta Prohm

The carved towers of Bayon

Day three and our backsides had had enough time in the saddle after cycling around 70km over the first two days.  We hired a tuk-tuk driver for the day in order to access some of the sites too far away to reach on bicycle such as the sparkling waters of Kbal Spean. 

Unknown to the Western world until the 1960's, this stretch of the Stung Kbal Spean river lying approximately 50km from Siem Reap, is home to hundreds of rock carvings.  Gods, Goddesses and other symbolic carvings look up from riverbanks and even from beneath the river itself, supposedly blessing the water which feeds the temples, moats and man-made reservoirs of the Angkor complex - again, all dating back over a thousand years.  To access it, one has to make a long ascent through the jungle, along a treacherous path measuring a draining 1,500 metres.  Drenched in sweat, we leapt from rock to rock across large boulder fields, crossed creaky wooden bridges and scrambled up steep rock faces, using tree roots and vines to pull ourselves up the hillside to the river and waterfalls at the top - it was worth the effort:

Now, day three actually began way, way before we reached Kbal Spean, and at 5 o'clock that morning we were racing through the empty streets of Siem Reap in our tuk-tuk, slipping through darkness and the cool morning air at full speed, straight towards the mighty complex of Angkor Wat.  With the black sky slowly turning to inky blue, we sprung from the tuk-tuk as our driver skidded to a standstill at the entrance gate.  Under the light of my trusty headtorch, we paced across the raised stone walkway ahead, over the wide moat still twinkling in the moonlight, and through the cavernous gate house.  As we emerged, the full outline of this, the largest religious building in the world, stood tall, wide and solid before us - charcoal black against a few warm wisps of colour arcing across the sky.  Deep scarlet flares in the twilight, offering a faint suggestion of the oncoming sunrise and the inferno lurking just beyond the horizon.  Taking our seats on the balcony of one of the many outbuildings - once a library I think - we sat back and watched the sun rise behind the towers of one of the most iconic buildings of the ancient world.  I think this post has had it's fair share of superlatives, so I'll let the photograph do the talking.

At the end of that long day, and the end of three incredible days of Indiana Jones-esque exploring, we hung up our whips and started our way back along the dusty road, back towards Siem Reap, a hot shower and a cold beer.  Rosie was so tired that, with her head on my shoulder and the tuk-tuk bouncing and rocking over the rough dirt road, strewn with potholes and loose stones, and with clouds of dust billowing through the open carriage, she fell fast asleep all the way home.

...

I didn't want to go too much into the history of this place, so here is a list of the temples and sites we visited with Wikipedia links where available:

Preah Khan
Kraol Ko
Neak Pean
Ta Som
East Mebon
Pre Rup
Sras Srang
Banteay Kdei
Ta Prohm
Ta Keo
Chau Say Thevada
Phimeanakas
Baphuon
Bayon
Angkor Wat
Banteay Srey
Kbal Spean
Banteay Samre