Don Det Notes, Continued

With my last post, Bière de Route (Road Beer) blog just went past 7,000 views! I would celebrate with a Lao-Lao shot...

I was supposed to call Ken today at 8pm (8am one day in the future for him) but Skype wouldn't open... Bo pa nyan.

Without wasting further time:

Friendship Bracelets

When you do something nice for someone here in Laos, they tie a little colourful string bracelet to your wrist as a way to say thank you. I noticed that trend in Cambodia too, to a lesser degree. I really like the concept.

I got my first bracelet (pink) in Angkor Wat after praying to a Buddha statue and making a donation. A Cambodian woman, all smiles, grabbed my arm before I could leave and tied skillfully the string while chanting softly.

I got a head rush from the sheer spirituality.

During my Bolivan plateau loop I stayed in a bungalow by the side of a small, quiet river. The place was very clean and calm and left a nice impression on me.

When I checked out at reception (a desk under a bamboo roof) the next morning I took the time to thank the staff for their welcome and told them how nice their place was.

The lady seemed very happy with my remark: she let out a very american "awwwww", grabbed a small straw pot hanging from the ceiling, reached inside and produced 3 bracelets, 2 bright yellow and 1 half yellow and half brown, which she tied softly to my wrist. She then joined her hands together to her chin and said a cheerful "Kup Chaï Laï Laï" (Thank you very much) to which I replied by joining my hands together up to my nose - the respectful height for a salute to someone older than you - and repeating my best Kup Chaï... they apparently don't have a word for "You're welcome".

I think the mother of the family actually makes them herself and to me it makes them even more significant and symbolic.

I received a lot of those bracelets while attending Don Det parties and weddings (there seemed to be one every week) and sometimes had to take them off because they were tied too loosely. At some point Ken remarked that I was starting to have a lot of them and compared me to Manni, a man from England that had been on the island for 2 years and was pretty much running Happy Bar.

"Have you seen Manni's arms? He has so many friends! So much time for so much friends".

On my last day on Don Det I was eating at the neighbors' restaurant (which had become tradition since I was feeling guilty at making Ban cook for me during her ever-rare time off) when I announced to them that I was leaving. The mother of the family seemed very sad and gave me another 3 bracelets and we took family pictures. The eldest daughter came to me and talked very softly in Lao for a minute - the grandma seemed intent on us getting wed one day - and the kids all laughed.

4 days ago I cut loose my bracelets. I was still carrying most of them to the point where I have a paler spot on my wrist where they were. I had to cut them because I got a new job dishwashing at a friend's bar and I didn't want them to get ruined by the constant water.

They had been a constant reminder of my good times now past and the ones to come as I sometimes struggle to get up in the morning.

Sihanoukville, Koh Trang, Kratie

Sihanoukville was a city that seemed better planned than most. Big streets and new clinics... But still the sides of the streets were filled with litter, stray dogs, and paranoid chicken.

There were also a lot more travelers compared to the places I had been that last week, young dudes and dudettes in tank tops and tattoos. You'd think I would identify with that crowd, but usually it means party-hardy times and a lack of respect for the locals...

We were just in Sihanoukville to jump to Koh Trang but we missed our boat due to some weird receptionist.
"Can we book a boat to the island? And a room?"
"Yes no problem. I take care."
*Makes phone call*
"Ok, is confirmed"
30 minutes later, after some iPod gaming and when I came out of my bubble:
"Ok so when is the boat?"
"Is now"
"Ok is someone coming to pick us up?"
"No"
"Is it at that pier down the street?"
"No is 20 minutes away in car. You miss today"
"Oooookay"

There is literally no use calling him out on that and sometimes locals seem to expect you to do half the work and I keep forgetting that. And so we had to spend a night in this city.

We had trouble finding a room under 10$ so we decided to get a dorm bed for 2.50$ at Utopia. Walking through the courtyard opens onto an outdoors pool with a fountain in the middle and a huge bar, and a couple of chilling areas.

The dorms were 8 matresses next to one another with absolutely no space between them - I literally woke up with a stranger's face inches from mine the next morning.

Upon closer inspection of Utopia it was clear we were in sinner's haven, aka a shithole. The pool water was murky, 97% of the men were swaggering around shirtless with a douchebag aura, a DJ booth overlooked the dance floor, and there were flyers for a wet t-shirt contest on the walls.

We spent the night downing 50-cents beers to be drunk enough to fall sleep despite the music, and laughing at the dudes trying to get the attention of the girls with dripping wet white shirts clinging to their breasts while some ineffective party promoter kept screaming "whoooooo's ready to paaaartaaaaay" every 10 seconds.

At some point a local man came up to me and started a discussion with me by writing notes on his cellphone. After a few minutes he showed me: "Wanna come to beach? Party. Nice lady boom boom. Room for one." I didn't feel like getting mugged so I declined.

Needless to say I had a pretty shitty sleep too.

The boat ride to Koh Tran the next day was really nice in comparison. Quiet waters and a sturdy ship made sure of that. There was a second floor with a tent ceiling for shading, with some couches thrown around. We read and shot the shit for a couple of hours until we arrived on the island.

Right upon arrival we knew that the reputation of a chillout place was not true anymore, and after speaking with a man in his 60s who has been traveling for years I learned that in the last year alone the bars, restaurants and guesthouses went from under 10 to above 20.

The cheapest room we found had the 3 of us share a bed and me getting in arguments with the owners over money and pillows. The bars and guesthouses were playing music until 3am - total disrespect to the locals - but apart from that the seafood was delicious, the view was extraordinary and all the dogs were super friendly. Also saw a teenager with a Canadiens hat.

We ended up staying 3 nights and left for Kratie on a smaller boat who was rocking to waves and the sun beating down on my face. I found myself thinking about the time I almost applied to that school in Rimouski where they form you into being a captain.

Kratie was really laid-back, we got to see the rare Mekong dolphins on a short boat trip and eat fried rice on hutts and hammocks built right over some rapids. I tried to go for a swim but the current was too strong and the floor full of jagged rocks.

I found a restaurant that was offering poutine so I asked mine to be made custom, with extra cheese and hot-dog saucages. I offered that they put it on the menu and name it Montréal Poutine.

Cambodia proved both easier and harder to travel than Thaïland. Most of the times that some ill luck or a bill too expensive happened it was my own fault and could have been avoided. The locals were nice but less inclined to chat, especially since way less of them could talk english compared to the Philippines and Thaïland. The foreign investors were more interested in opening party places rather than coffee shops or the like.

I am still glad I spent a month here, just wish I moved around a little bit more. I was looking for a chilling and exotic spot in the south-east but found it in the north-east at the end of my visa.

Kampot - maintenant en couleurs!

Weeee

Kampot, la suite

I think Jen hadn't even hit the floor that Ben and I were beside her. We saw that she was mostly ok - she wasn't going very fast. Blood stains were already on her shirt though, from a small gash on her chin about 2 inches across.

She was mostly laughing about it and complaining faintly about the pain. Through the light of our smartphones we inspected the gash and saw that it was dirty.

"Is it bad?" Asked Ben.
"I've seen much worst" I answered, thinking about the injuries i've seen on my dare-devil and/or drunken friends or myself. "Look, it's like manta ray mouth!"
"It's not funny you geeks!" Complainded Jen.
"Ok, I'll check the scooter, see if we can drive it back, I'll clean you up with my first-aid kit. Did you hit your head?"
"No, I don't think so"
"You have two mouths now!" Exclaimed Ben.
"Three" I added.
"You two are assholes! Can we go?"

After a quick inspection, I saw that the left brake was not working anymore and the front wheel was a little shaky. Thankfully the guesthouse was only a minute away. We crammed on the scooter, Jen in the middle so that Ben could hold her.

Back in the room we cleaned up her Cambodian souvenir as best we could and realised that it was a pretty deep cut... Jem changed in clean clothes while we looked for a hospital or a clinic on the city map. Thankfully it was along a road we were used to.

We packed books and beers in case this would take long. I put my headlamp on since Ben's motorbike lamp wasn't working, and drove to the clinic.

It is at around 2am that Ben rang the bell, installed next to a door made of sliding metal bars, same ones we see protecting stores. A drowzy nurse walked slowly towards us and opened the doors a few feet. Jenny half explained and half mimed her accident and showed her the gash.

"Oooonh" was all the nurse said, which seemed to mean "poor girl..." And opened the door large enough for her and Ben to walk in. They put her on a stretcher, Ben walking next to her, and I opened a beer while looking at the stars outside.

Abiut fifteen minutes and $30 later she re-emmerged, cleaned up, sowed up, chin-strap and all. We got back on the scooter and went to bed. I told Jenny she shouldn't sleep in case she got a concution - she did seem a little slow to answer, bu that could have been the beer and the late hour of the night.

The next morning Ben and Jen decided to stay a day longer in Kampot to let her rest, and offered to pay my share of the room. "It's not fair for you to pay because of me" she explained.

We had a very quiet day, eating and reading. We returned the scooters expecting a hefty ransom having heard the horror stories of Koh Pagnam, but Ben walked away with an $8 dollar bill.

We did go to a french pastry store we stumbled upon a few days back. A huge man in his sixties with a great round belly, giant forearms, and a mouth that barely opened when he talked greeted us, tellin us this place had the best pie he ever tasted.

Next time you see me, ask me to immitate him. Ben and I decided that he was a Tolkien dwarf in real life.

He asked us where we came from. When I said Canada he smiled and said Quebec right away, and I showed him my Canadiens belt buckle to confirm.

"Ooooh the Habs! Loved them when I was a boy. Had a lot of their stuff. They were unstopable back when all the frenchmen played for them. Rocket Richard and Big Bill and Boom Boom Geoffrion and Jack Plante. They won the cup 5 times in a row they did, more than once I believe. Yes. This place here, opened by the cook's parents. They came from China 60 years ago. Some frenchman from France showed them how to cook. The pie here, best I ever had, just like home. You cannot leave without eating it"

He was from Saskatchewan, and seemed to be sitting at a table of the little restaurant every single hour of the day, talking with someone.

The day after that we got on a bus that took us to Sihanoukville, the next chapter of my Cambodian journey.

De Rabbit Island à Kampot

That morning I lazily woke up, put my swimming suit on, groggily walked to the hutt that serves as a restaurant a few meters away, and ordered a banana shake. While the girls were preparing it I walked into the sea until the waves lapped at my natural thermometer and swam until I ran out of breath - didn't take long since I was slightly hungover.

Walking out of the sea, slurping on my shake, I fall into a hammock and go back to my book. About an hour later I am roused from George R.R. Martin's lifetime achievement by a familiar whistle.

Ben and Jen finally made it on the island!

Handshakes and hugs and laughs. Beer and swimming and more laughs. The day seemes to go by quickly. We tried to go on a trekk around the island but the trails were too shitty so after finding proper walking sticks and giving them an origin, we decided to go explore on the rocks that line the shore, the part I hadn't seen.

Little crabs scurry away as we walk by like towering clumsy pink giants. We found a nice big rock jutting out of the water and climbed it. All around it the shallow waters were teeming with life. Crabs big like a fist would swim away and hide underneath rocks. As we were hunting them actively with our sticks we chanced upon a tiny orange octopus.

We tried to corner it and let out a "WHOAAAA" when it suddenly attached itself to a rock and camouflaged her skin into the EXACT same color.

Really cool. I love octopus even more now. We played with it for about 15 minutes, until it was exhausted. Then we let it rest under a rock.

We met the night under the roof of a wall-less hutt, each on our own hammock, The Pogues playing out of my speakers. Ben had a bottle of Samsong (Thaï Rum) so we tackled that in between 75-cent beers.

A huge fly landed near us, half its body torn away, her eyes as big as the nail on a pinky. It was dazed enough for us to take super-macro pictures of it. We went to our respective beds around 1am (not the fly - it probably died).

The next day was composed of a somewhat hungover trip to Kampot, where we found a room to share in a guesthouse that greeted you with a free beer and free pétanque (oui!).

We took it easy that night, Jen went to bed early while me and Ben drank some draughts and played games on our iPods

The next morning when I woke up I didn't think that I was about to face one of the coolest days of my trip - so far. I wanted to check out the "bat-filled cave" out of town, so after our breakfast we rented some scooters and went on our merry way.

The streets of beloved Montréal have the ill reputation of being as defiled as the acne-ridden face of a pulpous teenager, but they are nothing compared to the red-sand dirt roads of rural cambodia. Driving on these proves mentally taxing as you are constantly watching for children, dogs, chicken, other vehicules, and huge holes that might - and will- cause you to crash.

We soon passed a tiny village made out of tin-roofed shacks, drove under a buddhist gate towards a pile of rocks where an 18-year old Khmer named "Say-yaaaa" offered to guide us through, and good thing we did hire him. While the cave was not that big nor clostrophobic, we had to crawl up and down cramped holes and cracks - and did see some bats.

After the cave our guide proposed that he take us to "Secret Lake", which we accepted after snapping a few pictures of his village. He offered to drive my scooter for me and I let him, and I was not disapointed. He drove through the countryside at a pace I never would have braved.

We finally get to the lake, which is a man-made reservoir that Pol Pot had ordered built in the 70s, and many cambodians died to make it happen. We chilled under yet another hammock-hutt and ate some noodles before driving further out to a pepper plantation.

Kampot pepper is renowned for its taste and is apparently very popular in french restaurants. 8-feet high brick towers are built in rows and the plant grows against it under the taxing Cambodian sky.

We soon had to go back so that our guide wouldn't be late for his evening english class. I jokingly asked if we could come with him and he was very happy to invite us, and so about 2 hours later I found myself standing in a classroom reading a notebook to a class of twenty to teach them proper pronunciation.

The teacher also asked me, Ben and Jen to go sit with groups and engage in discussions with them, but most were too shy to reply to my inquiries.

After a very fun hour of this we followed our guide back to his house where he himself thought the children of his village the alphabet, to count, and the days of the week - for free. We had previously bought pens and candy for everyone and the women of the village were very grateful.

We tolerated all we could of this ultra-cuteness and went back to Kampoy. After having eaten a traditional ramen-and-eggs meal at our guide's grandfather's restaurant we went back to our guesthoue to get proper smashed.

There we met Julien and Raphaelle, 2 people I met in Phnom Penh. Turns out they bought their own tuk-tuk! We played some pétanque and smoked some to celebrate, while drinking cheap Angkor drafts.

At around midnight Jen decided she needed some sleep, so me and Ben set out on my scooter to find some water - Ben's scooter light wasn't working. We found a bar instead, and before buying anymore beer Ben turned to me and said "I think we should go get Jen". Little did we know how that sentence was about to make this day even more memorable.

Drive back slightly affected to get Jen, the 3 of us on the same bike asian style, get to the bar and drink more, dance with a very smooth, very old and very drunk cambodian, until we decide to ditch this loud bar infested with pot-smokers.

On the careful way back we find trampolines and can't resist the temptation to give it a go. There's 4 of them, but as I'm climbing into mine I notice there's people living underneath! Possibly the owners, dozing in a hammock, sheltered by their most prize possesssions.

In a fit of adrenalyn, Jen - who'se never driven a scooterbike before - decides that it is the perfect time to give it a try since the streets are empty. With her drunken courage she mounted the metal beast, and after Ben showed her the brakes and the gas, she rode off.

A few seconds later and she was back, having driven around the block skillfully with a huge smile on her face. Her second lap would not go so well however... She took the corner too large, forgot to let go of the gas when she braked, hit the sidewalk...

We soon witnessed her do a beautiful swan dive off the motorbike, hitting her chin on the ground.

We sobered up pretty fast after this.

The rest very soon, my loyal subjects!

Rabbit Island en images

C'était bien bien bien

Kep

Ah, Kep.

J'ai quitté Phnom Penh avec un degré de frustration, accumulation de plusieurs petits trucs... Et le tracas d'avoir perdu l'envi d'écrire. Je me tanne toujours vite de mes projets.

Arrivé à Kep après 3 heures de transports rocambolesques à travers champs, risières, routes en construction, chemins de terres rouges, un chauffeur qui conduit comme un ivrogne en tabarnak... Et malgré tout j'ai dormi les 3/4 du temps, j'avais la banquette arrière à moi tout seul.

Un gars s'gâte.

Débarquant du mini-bus au centre de la ville, qui est en fait qu'un stationnement entouré de restos, plaqués par la mer qui elle se cache derrière un petit muret de briques et une minuscule plage. Je remarque que tout les hommes à 1mille à la ronde ont les yeux rivés sur une cambodgienne. J'admire ce don de la nature un instant.

Il n'y a qu'un seul tuk-tuk, miracle! Je suis le seul à m'arrêter ici, donc je n'ai pas à me soucier de mon lift. Le chauffeur connait la guesthouse la moins chère en ville. Je sais pas si c'est vrai, mais 6$ la chambre ça me va. Propre en plus!

En après-midi je me loue un scooter qui tient à peine ensemble et vais me promener sur le bord de la mer. Des statues de shiva avec 8 bras, d'une femme de pêcheur nue, de gros poulets en or (?). Des petits restos jonchent les plages, et c'est possible se louer une petite hutte avec un hamak, mais c'est 5$ juste pour s'asseoir.

Des singes se gavent de fruits et n'ont pas l'air trop impressionés par la vue magnifique.

Un peu sans idée quoi faire je me dirige vers le parc national et commence à marcher le sentier, mais après 30 minutes je change d'idées et décide d'aller lire dans ma chambre et écouter la télé. Je pensais trop à la maison.

Le soir je soupe et jase avec la serveuse, elle sourit sans arrêt et ça me remonte le moral un peu. Je m'endors en me demandant kossé que j'fa icitte, ya rien.

Le lendemain matin par contre, je me réveille avec un poids en moins sur les épaules. Les petits trucs agaçants de Phnom Penh ne sont pas présents ici après tout.

Je vais nager dans la mer pour au moins 2 heures. Je me renseigne sur Rabbit Island, ma prochaine destination. J'apprend aussi que il n'y a pas de ATM dans la ville, petit stress.

Je regarde dans mon porte-monnaie. 50$. Stress confirmé. C'est en masse pour 2 jours, mais j'avais prévu 4-5.

La petite serveuse m'informe que certains resorts peuvent te donner de l'argent de ta carte de crédit. Elle les appelle pour moi mais curieusement toutes les machines de la ville sont hors d'état.

Le petit sourire m'informe que je dois aller à Kamput, normalement ma destination après Rabbit Island. 30 minutes en scooter.

Je n'ai pas le choix et donc me prépare. Après tout, je ne suis plus un débutant voyageur! Je n'amène que ma clef de chambre et mon porte-monnaie, placés sous le banc du scooter. J'enfile mes souliers, car la route de Paï m'avait déchiré l'orteil à cause d'un poulet. Finalement, casquette (soleil) lunettes de biker (mouches dans yeux), bandeau (poussière).

Ici tout le monde porte les petits masques de chirurgien, alors je n'ai pas l'air d'un bandit ou d'un manifestant comme la police de Montréal vous incline à penser.

Nouveau petit truc: la palette par en arrière fait mieux glisser le vent sur ma tête et mes yeux ne pleurent pas.

Je parcours une route de ciment des fois recouverte de ce sable rouge damné, et je dois dépasser des immenses camions qui m'envoient poussière et polution, tout en évitant trous, cailloux, enfants et chiens.

Très intense, mais je reviens à temps de ma mission pour admirer un coucher de soleil au Crab Market, en observant les femmes terminer leur journée. Elles sont très mignonnes, les jeunes pêcheuses, et y'en a une qui semble rire de mes tattoos de jambes.

2 chiens sortent de nul part pour venir jouer avec moi. Ils ne me lâchent pas pendant 20 minutes et essayent de me licher la barbe. Non merci pti bum!

Après un autre bon repas à saveur de fruits de mer je m'installle dans mon lit propre (petit luxe) et m'acharne sur ce blog, les batteries rechargées, la soif d'explorer revenue, et le coup de soleil qui pique.

Ce soir m'attendent les nouveaux personnages de game of thrones, et des films de kung-fu mal traduits en Khmer.

Dans les jours suivants, Ben et Jen me rejoignent, et Sipokazi. Ensuite, Rabbit Island.

Les rues de Phnom Penh

Picture a city where most of the streets are big enough for 2 big cars to drive side by side, with wide pink-tiles sidewalks on each sides. Now picture the sides of the streets lined with tuk-tuks, motorbikes, food carts, and litter, narrowing the street by half. Put more scooters and motorbikes on the sidewalks, dining tables from guesthouses and restaurants and bars, garbage bags, dogs, people sleeping ON their scooters or right on the floor. 

Now, add constant traffic. Mostly scooters, vespas, the occasional chopper or motocross. Lots of old, run-down bicycles, mostly ridden by children going to school. On the sides are nervously walking foreigners - locals seldom walk anywhere - being harassed by tuk-tuk drivers and restaurant greeters, and people selling books, shades and the likes.

At night, take out half the traffic, multiply the tuk-tuks, add some prostitutes, and mix in some cockroaches big like a toe and grey rats sneaking around.

Now. Back to day time. Picture all this nice little chaos converging at intersections where there are no stop signs. Picture having to cross this. The riders don't usually ever come to a full stop. They just honk to signal their presence, slow down, assess the way, and go by at around 20 km an hour while the riders coming from the other directions dodge them. Imagine crossing this, and the only way is to wait for a moment where everything slows down, and that's your chance. You start walking at a slow pace, nervously clutching your asshole, waiting for impact.

But everything goes smoothly.

The only accident I've seen in nearly 2 months in asia was 2 kids riding a bike, and they fell, for no reason.

Controlled chaos?


I don't know if it is my white skin, paired with my beard and tattoos, but about every 10 seconds I am approached by a smiling tuk-tuk driver.

Wait. More like, every 5 seconds. Not joking. Count to 5 aloud, and play out the following monologue in broken engrish.

"Hey, my friend, brother, tuk-tuk? Where you go? Why you walk? I take you there. Around city, all day, 10 dollah! Ok, ok, 5 dollah. Shooting? Want to shoot AK-47? Go to killing fields? Bars? Drink? Mari-wana? Co-cane? Girls? I know nice girl. She real nice. I take you there. Nice clean house. Yeah? Yeah? No? Ok brotha! Tomorow!"

I always walk with a smile however. I always say "No, thank you". "Thank yooou for saying thank you sir! My friend!" and I always get warm smiles in return, so it's not that bad. I understand that they are trying to make a living, here in this mess of a place that Pol Pot left for them.

"Hey sir, hey goodlooking, hey foreigner, want good time? Come drink beer here?" is also a line I hear a lot, mostly at night, from very, very pretty cambodian girls. I also decline with a smile. Sometimes they brush my arm or get in my way, and I talk with them a little bit, joke around, but I never stay long. Always keep moving.

Yesterday I visited the "Killing Fields". I almost cried, me, who hasn't cried in years. It is weird, feeling so sad for a people I don't really know and have nothing in common with. After 30 years of excavation, when it rains, there's still bones, teeth, and pieces of clothing that come up from the tainted soil.

You know, I've spent the last 2 years trying to "toughen up" so I wouldn't get hurt in relationships anymore. I spent a good deal of time building a nice tall wall of big stones around myself. But traveling here, away from all the people I know, it's easy to let go of all that control.

It's like there is a monk, in his bright orange robes, punching his way through. Every day, he strikes one blow, with an open palm, and a piece falls off.

My heart is back on my sleeve like when I was younger.

Back to when I was 15. Communist ideas in my head.

The same type of ideology that led a crazed leader to massacre his own people, some 40 years ago, killing close to 1/4 of the population. His own population.

Not because of a difference of ethnicity, or religion - which is still unacceptable - but because of mistrust of institutions, educated people, foreigners, new ideas.

I suggest you read a little bit about the Khmer Rouge, and how recently it happened, and how the world reacted to it. It might leave a sour taste in your mouth.

Here's a quick link, just because I'm nice: Wikipedia's basics on the Khmer Rouge.

I didn't read much about it to be honest with you, I'm plowing through 4 Game of Thrones tomes. I've always been somewhat of a student of history, reading about the gladiators, the vikings, the crusades... the warriors.

But this... this has nothing to do with warriors, or revolution. It makes me think of the book "The Devil Came on Horseback" that I read some time ago, about the Darfur genocide.

"That sounds depressing, why would you want to read that?" had asked Jonathan's mom.

"Because I feel like I am giving the victims a voice" was all I could answer under a short notice.

Holy emotions Batman! 

Siem Reap et une dose de changement

Finally, a computer to write. I have been using my ipod since I left and the process can be slow and tenuous. I am in a little quiet guesthouse in Siem Reap where a bearded man takes care of the homeless cats, and all the computer backgrounds are pictures of kitties.

Fun facts about Cambodia: holy shit did they get it rough these last 500 years.
Everything is priced in US dollars and the ATMS don't give Riels.
Everyone is very nice.

I woke up at 7am with a bad hangover, as if the forces of Stannis Baratheon were hammering the gates of King's Landing, in this case my head.

I went for one last breakfast with Ben and Jen and jumped into a taxi that would take me to the bus station, and on to Cambodia. I had purchased a ticket the previous day, Bangkok-Phnom Penh.

I slept the entire bus ride and woke up at the Thai-Cambodia border at high noon, some small chaotic town where the pavement has been overtaken by red sand. The heat proved taxing since I had grown accustomed to the cooler climates of Chiang Mai and Pai.

I quickly learned that the bus ticket I bought would take me no farther.

I avoided scam after scam and finally got into Cambodia around 3pm.

Fake visas, fake government offices, fake passport pictures, fake forms, fake uniforms.

On the other side now, in this new country unknown to me, a smiling man greats me with an offer I apparently cannot refuse. He informs me that there is no more bus leaving the border for the major bus terminal and that he will happily take me there on his motorcycle for 400 bhats.

I tell him that I will wait a little bit to relax but in truth I wanted to gather information. Soon after however, a free shuttle bus arrived and a group of 7 tourists got in, so I decided to follow them. They had a tour organiser, cambodian, that I paid 400 bhats to let me join their group, and that saved me a lot of trouble and money.

They were all going to Siem Reap and I decided to follow and change my plans a little bit. Phnom Penh was a night bus ride away and my body let me know he didn't feel like making another 8-hour journey.

In Siem Reap a tuk-tuk driver took me to a guesthouse where I met 2 australian girls in the lobby. There were only dorms left, and a 3-bed room (classic scam) and so we decided to share it.

On the rooftop was a bar selling 50 cent draft beers and so after a quick shower we ended up there, where we met another australian, Sam. Younger than me by 6 years, he reminded me a lot of my little brother, he even had the same humor and way to laugh at my jokes. We talked plans and decided to visit Angkor Wat together the next day.

At around 11pm my companions went to bed but I stayed up until 1am talking to this 40-year old brazilian guy who was pretty awesome. He had just broken up with his girlfriend and felt like talking about it a little bit and so I listened. He had quite a few stories about acid trips as well, and inquired about my bamboo tattoo.

My room's window was directly opposite the night bar and so the cheers and yells from german drinking games kept me up all night. I got a few hours of sleep in, woke up at 6 am and met up with Sam.

Angkor Wat is very hard to describe. First of all you can buy a 1 to 3 day ticket since it is so big. We hired a tuk-tuk driver for the day and he took us to the biggest and most interesting temples. The cambodians are hard at work renovating, rebuilding and reorganizing this biggest temple complex in the world, and thousands of tourists made this visit a little bit chaotic.

Huge temples with faces built into their towers, terasses dedicated to elephants, bridges with their walls fahioned into warriors holding a giant snake, statues for Buddhism and Hinduism, moats, reflecting pools.

Tourists, tri-lingual local tour guides, tuk-tuk drivers playing their version of hacky sacks, stores, vendor girls, vendor children...

An odd feeling of guilt and something else I cannot identify had been following me since Sipokazi returned home and I took it as a sign that I should remain single for the reminder of my trip. I would like to specify that I have not slept with anyone since departing from home, so it is not simply to bed as many women as I can.
I prayed at a Buddha statue under the watchful eye of an old woman who then blessed me, while tourists took what seemed like a thousand pictures. I asked that Sipokazi would understand and not be hurt too much in the process. The woman tied a pink string to my left wrist afterwards. I wonder how long I will be able to keep it.

Sam pointed out that I seem to attract vendors, they orbit around me and linger, and so I started to joke with them and offer ridiculous prices to get rid of them. 2 kids would not leave me, followed us for up to 10 minutes and laughed at my ridiculous requests. A woman asked me to buy beer from her so she could feed the baby she was holding, so I offered to buy the baby, and she bursted out laughing. Another cute girl asked me to buy her scarves and I asked how much for a kiss on the cheeks. She smiled and said it was free for me, but I never got it. Mister, you so funny!

Lastly, a woman pestered me to buy her Angkor Wat shirts. 1 for 4$. I needed one to get in the main temple since you cannot walk in wearing only a tanktop, so I jokingly said 1$. She called me crazy but in the end we settled for 2$.

Back at the guest house around 4pm, Sam went for a nap while I had a long and hard discussion with Sipokazi.

At night me and Sam ate at the rooftop bar and watched Hellboy. A group of quiet australian hippies sitting under the tv decided to close it without asking anyone, and so I told them that we had no choice but to sit with them now. We ended up starting a drinking game, but one of the girls seemed to hate me with a passion and so I remained distant.

While drinking a bucket of vodka-sprite-red bull we met a really cool american couple who told us their travel stories. They get in the craziest situations... flooded hotel, mud river overflowing, hostel burning down 5 minutes after they arrived, almost mugged by a thai gang...

We decided to try the night life and soon hated it, so instead we got a huge bottle of vodka and juice, and went back to their room to drink it up. We had a really good time and I woke up the next morning in my room with no idea how I got there, alone with a note from the girls telling me they left a day early but still paid their share.

Today has been an ordeal of suffering yet one more hangover and finding a more quiet place to sleep, where I am now, and trying to ignore a feeling of guilt gnawing at my spine.

I went to the pharmacy to buy advil. A little kid was playing at being a ninja and I applauded his prowess. A very young family was visiting the doctor for their very young baby, and I offered to pay for their medication.

I guess Buddhism is leaving its mark.

Water and fruit juices tonight.

Angkor Wat

On les fait pu comme avant!