210304 Siam Reap (Angkor Wat, baby!!!)

After almost four months of lounging around in Singapore, I basically cannot tahan anymore, so much to the resignation of my parents to my way of life (I believe they actually said to me once - "why can't you be NORMAL") I packed my bags and bike again and left. Hm, I seem to recall the doctor at the Pakistani Hospital saying that I wouldn't be able to cycle again for 4-6 months. IN YOUR FACE, doctor at the Pakistani Hosiptal!

So after too many days of reading about Alex's exploits, my backside just got too itchy so here I am in Siam Reap, Cambodia, 6km from the great Angkor Wat, after 4 days of burning dusty cycling from Phnom Penh. A good friend of mine, Joe Nathan, has brought himself down to my level and is cycling with me (and later, Alex) back to Singapore. Joe was an editor at The New Paper, and after having been there for the last 15 years finally quit and decided to run off before they could drag him back in again.

Hence it was with much glee that 2 Jo's landed in Phnom Penh airport on the 15th of March, after watching the sunrise glint mesmerisingly off the wing of an MAS 737 as an ocean of clouds wafted past over the peaks of the central Malay Peninsula. Our short nap was rudely interrupted when the stewardess banged the food cart smack into Joe's knee, and proceeded to apologise vehemently for it. She kept coming back to apologise at an alarming rate, and only toned down when we spoke to her in Malay and told her to 'relek, beb... jangan tension'...

My introduction to Cambodia was not a nice one, though, as the immigration officer tried to ask me for US$25 for a visa that had US$20 STAMPED BIG BIG on it. A middle-aged lady somemore. Made me cringe. But all notions of money-faced locals were quite quickly dispelled as we got out of the airport and set up shop at a corner (where else would you have a mat and an indian go?) to put together our bikes. Before we could blink there were 10 taxi drivers around us, vacating their usual busy iterniary of hassling tourists for a ride into town, and helping us put our bikes together, and offering us useful advice and services ("sir you want bang vietnamese? very good, cheap cheap. for you, only five lollar") and in no time at all we were up and running and knew where to go for a quickie.

A mini-whirlwind was kicking up dust as we cycled out of Pochentong (Phnom Penh) airport, and I smiled as memories of the dust storms of Iran and Pakistan emerged from the corners of my mind. Here we go again. Same old shit again.

Phnom Penh traffic was BEAUTIFUL. There is no other word for it. Its like a sea of dancers executing perfect movements to effect a bustling, living city twirling on the knife edge of trying not to die. Traffic lights were wholeheartedly honored for the first 15 seconds of a red light, after which came a whole lot of buggerall. Motorcycles weaved their own tapestry of motion in between, and around, turtle-like cars, trucks and other larger vehicles that had to slow down from the sheer number and constant movement of scooters, scramblers and tuk-tuks. And we, 2 lost fish in an ocean of madness, fought bravely in the mania, learnt local customs fast (you're responsible for keeping tabs on anyone in front of you. Vehicles behind you are a figment of your imagination.) and managed to get to a nice guest house in one piece. Mind you, I actually found myself ENJOYING Phnom Penh traffic - it was (as Cassie called it) a little obstacle course. We had a few more days of it, sometimes at night, and found all riders and drivers in Phnom Penh really skilled. A taxi once brushed my panniers (first day in Phnom Penh) but I didn’t feel worried AT ALL.

Oh, Cassie and Sonja were these 2 really nice girls we met who were cycling around too - they had just started, though, buying their bikes in Bangkok. The American-Austrian pair had met up in India working for a hospital, and had been travelling together on and off for the past year and more. They told us to expect some heavy dust between Phnom Penh and the Thai border, and looking at their bikes, I'd believe them. It takes quite a lot to get a chain to squeak, and they had only had 6 cycling days since they got their bikes. I put more lube on Cassie's chain than I probably had on mine in the whole of Pakistan.

They were a real fun bunch, and Joe and I had a real good time hanging out with them, especially cycling out to the killing fields.

Oh hang on, this deserves an introduction to recent Cambodian history, so here comes a short boring informational bit that only people named Hwee Khan would be REALLY interested in:

Between the years of 1976 and 1979, Cambodia was run by a paranoid communist guerilla group called the Khmer Rouge (red Khmer) which had the people in permanent fear for their lives as they tore apart families, kept people in line and everyone worked for the common good. People suspected of having a HINT of anything that seemed un-revolutionary were thrown into an interrogation/torture centre in Phnom Penh called S-21. This used to be a high school, and looks a lot like our Primary schools that are about 20 years old. 20000 people entered S-21, only 7 left alive. And people who were to be exterminated were sent to Cheong Ek, a place 16km out of town, the so-called killing fields. Here people were made to kneel next to a hole and struck at the back of the head so they would topple into the hole and left to die. 127 holes were uncovered in Cheong Ek, and each had over 100 bodies piled in them. Cheong Ek was one of the many killing fields littered across Cambodia during the time of the Khmer Rouge, under Brother Number One, Pol Pot.

We only visited 2 places that day: S-21, and Cheong Ek (the killing fields), but it still remains as a very sobering chapter of my journey so far, and my imagination could barely handle the depictions of the paintings in S-21 (which has been since made into a museum) and the sounds of torture and smell of pain still ring clearly in my mind's eye. A painful reminder of how we take the peace and stability we have for granted.

Now Cambodia is a country just coming to terms with its past. The roads still dusty with years of disregard, and kids chase us with offers to "look bicycle" (meaning they wanted to be paid to look after our bikes). Sonja and Cassie, being caucasian and thereby looking richer, got the worst of the touts, and the kids at Cheong Ek quickly caught on, charging a dollar for their picture to be taken.

After 3 days in Phnom Penh (by FAR the best capital city I've been to) and our fill of golden sunsets behind the lake we were staying at, meeting fellow travellers and having a really pleasant dinner with a group of Singaporeans from SIF, me and Joe finally got our arses in gear and got some cycling on. It was four HOT (hit 41 degC sometimes), HUMID (I never thought anywhere could be more humid than Singapore. Of course I learn something new everyday), DUSTY (half of the road was made up purely of red dust, and passing trucks would billow a blood red fog all around us, at the end of each day covering us in fine red gunk), ROUGH (roads? Bah! We don't need no steenking roads!) days to Siam Reap, and all I can say is I'm SO glad I decided to get off-road tyres and a new rim. The bikes took a helluva bashing and right now look like they've just gone thru some off-road trials in the Nevada desert.

But the locals are a treat to cycle past. The people don't let up with their warmth for one second, and settlements are neverending along the road. Though the dry season brings little respite for these people, the chorus of "hello!" and "bye bye" (not necessarily in that order, of course) still rings in my ears. And unlike many countries, once you've told someone "no thanks, I don't need a t-shirt/cold drink/flute/cowbell/vietnamese" they smile and leave you alone. Its bloody marvellous.

Along the road we met Roger and Alison, a couple from Aberdeen. They were the only people we met cycling our way - the rest were going up north to escape the heat. Only Asians and mad Scotmen go the other way. They were a really cute couple, 52 going on 17. They cycle at a good pace, probably helped by the fact that they had sent half their luggage home and only had rear panniers. They had 3 daughters back home, and it was the first time I had the experience of fellow travellers going, "should we call our kids" instead of "should we call our parents" :)

Oh, and did I mention Roger lost his right leg about 30 years ago in a shipping accident? Yeah, he's got a fake leg fitted on below his knee, and he calls it a 'minor problem'. It does give us something to smile about when mine victims come around to beg for money and Roger shows them his leg though. Of course we shouldn't laugh, but the irony just hits you sometimes.

Ok, off to see the legendary Angkor tomorrow. I probably have been rambling for a bit, sorry about that. Just feels great to be on the road and having the taste of dust singe my tongue again :) off for some fried beef and sugar cane now - I'm addicted to the shite.

Oh, btw for those of you saying "I'll go to Cambodia SOON", shaddup and get on a plane NOW. The Cambodians are a beautiful, charming people, and I've never had more warmth from the people cycling anywhere else in the world (my experience is limited, of course). I love this country.

jo