Dharma bums

Sunday morning and we were in Siem Reap, gateway to Angkor. We were off the road. The first order of business was to have a doctor look at Don. Neil and Don headed off to the Clinic while Normano and Bernie checked out the local breakfast scene.

The doctor was from Thailand. After inspecting the wounds, she numbed things up, and then cleaned and stitched the wounds. Neil took pictures. She complimented Neil on his wilderness emergency treatment. After watching her work, Neil was ready to add emergency stitches to his first aid repertoire (and getting some of those cool needles for his first aid kit). By 10:30 we were heading back to the hotel. Don had 7 stitches, prescription drugs, and instructions to come back tomorrow. (Because this is a family oriented blog, we are not posting Neil’s pictures – unless you ask)

We hired a car and driver to take us Angkor. For the uninitiated, Angkor is actually a very large area with numerous temples, including Angkor Wat. Neil had recently visited here with his sister Natalie and was well prepared to be our guide. We visited five temples over the course of day, with stops at the makeshift noodle shops and water/snack shops along the way for sustenance. Our driver waited for us between temples and dodged the police guards to avoid paying fees (he complained that they shouldn’t be out on Sunday, saying they were just out there to collect money for themselves on their day off).

While we were climbing through the temples a guy (Aussie by accent) came up and pointed at Don’s bandages and asked “Motorcycle?” Don said “yes” and the guy laughed and proudly held up his arm to show a really ugly scar. “I got that on a motorcycle in Thailand last year” he said. Don hoped his scar would turn out a little better.

I can’t really describe the temples other than to say they were awesome. The sheer scale of each temple site was hard to fathom, the size of the stones and buildings were most impressive, the carvings and detail were everywhere. Unlike the temples we’d visited the day before, there were also lots of tourists. Because the temples themselves were so very impressive, the tourists weren’t too much of a distraction – but I wonder what it will be like in 5 or 10 years when Cambodia really gets into the international tourism business (and you can see that Siem Reap is building the hotels for that future). We took plenty of pictures, but they don’t begin to capture the place; hopefully these pics below provide some sense of our experience:

The trees reclaim their territory from the temple

Gateway

Patio

Buddha

This monk said prayers for us (we would need them)

Dancers

Approaching Angkor Thom

Stonetemple

Gonzo

Bernie & Don

Peaceful face

Churning the milk

Neil and Bernie

Dharma Bums

Neil paced our visit perfectly. By late afternoon, we were hot, tired and nearly overwhelmed by the beauty and experience of the day. We finished with Angkor Wat, the most famous of all the temples. What to say…except it is incredible. As we finished our visit to this most awesome temple, we stopped for a rest and a treat, and then  contemplated the temple and our day.

The size, beauty and sheer mass of the temples are amazing. It is also sobering, to think of the wealth and power of the civilization that built it and then disappeared. Like the tides, civilizations rise and fall …and the jungle waits.

As the night fell, we headed back to town. We were ready for a rest, a shower, and then a taste of Siem Reap. It was a full moon…

That night we headed out to the streets to find dinner. There were a lot of people on the streets, and that made it kind of wild because the streets were torn up with sewer construction. It was even crazier because the crews were still working on the streets even though it was night time.

We headed over to an area where there were restaurants and bars. Music blasted out from the bars, mixing on the streets with the sound of construction and children selling books and post cards… moto drivers asking if we needed a ride – or a massage… disco music, rock and roll, traditional Cambodian music and barkers outside the restaurants extolling the virtues of their menus. Don stopped to buy some postcards from a group of children, and we picked and Indian Restaurant.

After dinner we headed up the street to find a pharmacy and a bar. One of the little girls from group that had been selling postcards followed, calling to Don and complaining that he should have bought her post cards instead of from an other girl. As we walked along, she became more violent and began to curse him. She was 9 or 10 years old. She called on him to buy her post cards. She followed along cursing and complaining…just a little girl but a very foul mouth. “You are a bad man. Fuck you. Bad things will happen to you” — it just kept pouring out of her (and we wondered where she learned English – particularly this brand of English).

We went into the pharmacy to buy some bandages. She waited across the street. When we came out, she took up her complaints again, calling out above the sounds of the street construction and music from the bars. As we were walking down the crowed street, with the little girl following and cursing, Norm felt somebody bump into him and try to reach into his pocket. The street was packed with people…locals, tourists, and who knew what else. It was getting pretty weird on the streets of Siem Reap.

We went to a bar for some Beer Lao. The little girl followed, cursing and complaining. At first it seemed like a “shakedown” of some sort, but she had now spent a good ninety minutes in this pursuit. She seemed to have totally lost it. “You shit, you bad man, you motherfucker, I curse you” etc, etc. She just went on an on and seemed totally possessed by her madness. We stopped for another beer and she stood outside and continued her cursing. Finally Don went out to talk to her.

She said that Don had talked to her first but then bought postcards from another girl…he should have bought her postcards. She told him she was ten years old and got stuff to sell from her boss. She began to calm down a bit. Don paid a dollar for a dozen cards. He said it was for his karma, and he wondered about post-traumatic stress.

We finished our drinks in peace and headed back to the hotel.

That night, “Undercover Brother” dubbed in Khmer with English subtitles was on cable TV. Who knew how it translated or if the locals knew it was a comedy?

The morning came on with the slow warmth of being in an oven. All night, it was the battle of noise which kept pace with the rhythms of the heat and dreaming that the same clothes you wore yesterday were waiting on the rack in your room. The heat woke me slowly, and as my vision cleared on the dim light entering my brain, I saw yesterday’s rags hanging there.

It was day two of our journey to the north. We had temples on our map. But as the hard, stiff, dust crusted pants slipped on the first leg, it was clear we have to make other plans. Don B needed to have his wounds looked into, and the trip north turned west. We all knew that if we went too deep into the heart of darkness, our chances would not get better.

Eating a mouth full of ibuprofen was the first order of business. Don B had the strongest meds and he was doing a good job in that area. We needed to feed our bodies with food and crank up the bikes, and we would be fine. Sore was not an issue; we were sore, but it was our need to keep moving that saddled us up.

We had two temples to see before we reached Siem Reap and some rough road to cross. We were getting deeper and deeper in to the depths of Cambodia. The roads got thinner, the bridges got smaller and some were not even there. You drove through the creek beds to get on with the trip. Ruts and washouts got wider. Seems like it was too early to have someone go down, but Don B went over the handle bars in the soft sand.

Normano had whizzed across the bridge, and a rut came up and pushed his back tire to the right. Traveling at 68km on washed-out gravel is like riding a bull with a tight cinch across his balls. You want to jump any way you can, because it hurts no matter which way you jump. This pushed Normano to the side of the road and into the soft sand. “Power out! All Power is the only way to make this.”the scream went out. The only problem was that Don B followed Normano and the sand got him. The landing was soft and warm, but a gash on the bridge of the nose and a wash bleed of blood from yesterday’s crash was what he got.

Dharma Bernie stopped and S. and Normano returned. The crash had busted the clutch lever, so S. took over Don B’s bike and Dharma bums rode on. Dust, blood and all.

20 km later we pulled in to a village and stopped in the middle of town. This was a small village and there, in the very cross roads that intercepts life, were a couple of very big ruts. Dharma Bernie was bringing up the rear and as he came in for a stop — crash, bang, boom! Don’t know and don’t care; shit happens. He crashed! The crowd went wild. What a show they had today. Four white boys on the road with nothing in the way and boom. The kids laughed and their eyes got bigger. They had a good show and a story for the next day. Dharma bums brushed this zeppelin aside.

We turned west from the big ruts and full bore; dust rolled out our backs. The first temple was 12km’s ahead, that was only the turn off. Turning into a temple trail that got smaller, we could see a dot way down the road. The closer we got, the more it seemed out of place. Two guys and a tent with the twig for a stop gate. “Who where they kidding, the mighty Dharma bums could bust through this security with our breath”. They waved us through and we enter in the weird world of vines and stone. It was the middle of nowhere and in the middle of everywhere.

Give the Dharma bums a mountain to climb and look out, here we come. We mounted this sucker and announced a quorum for an emergency party. We had the tent! It was the shortest emergency party we ever had, and even though we were at the point of touching God and the heavens, we had 80km before the next temple and we had to move on. The climb down was as exhausting as the climb up.

We pull into the local Dairy Queen. Cold water and beer, two things that can keep the party going and a hand full of ibuprofen. We were sore. The road got thinner and it seemed to telling us something. We were one. The Dharma bums and the road were one. That just shows you what a temple visit can do to you. Keeping our wits and stopping for water breaks was the only thing we could do as the ride moved on.

We pulled in to temple #2 (Beng Mealea – 12th century Hindu) and un-geared. It was a short walked to the depths of jungle and stone. Wooden walkways lead us into more stone. The only mass that can hold its own even if it’s tossed in piles by Mother Nature. As the path took us deeper and deeper in the heart of the cool and dark passageways, our bodies were drained of energy. The walk down the grotto covered in time sucked any life we had from our bones. S. said the road was going to improve from now on and Siem Reap was only 28 km ahead. This lifted our pale but trusting sprits. The road was going to get better. The thought of a smooth and dustless voyage was heaven in spades. The only thoughts to enter our brains were the impending merge with the traffic of Siem Reap. It was going dusk as we hit town and rush hour.

As we came closer to Siem Reap, a wall of bikes six a breast, riders dressed in white, was moving against us. This went on for miles. One steady stream of humanity coming home from work. Oh boy. We were going to miss the traffic. This thought soon disappeared as we hit the outskirts of town. Each block got tighter and constricted with people.

The river and the center of town was very close and that is where it all came to a stop. The intersection was at a standstill and yet it moved. Inch by inch we wove our bikes around cars, people, trucks, tuk-tuks and motos. Tighter than a can of sardines, we edged our way though the maze of bodies. You could feel breath on your face, to your side, on your back. On the eve of a full moon, the cavity of civilization was on the move in Siem Reap, and the Dharma bums had walked into a trap.

The madness grew more intense, street were ripped apart by construction, beggars and one legged mine victims roamed the streets, dirt and dust flying high. The sun had set, and we were out of breath. Every snake charmer, pimp, hustler, and two-bit rambler was on the street, and we were in the middle of it. Even the lap posts were starting to breathe down our necks… and we stopped taking window pane decades ago.

We crossed the river to a place S had stayed before and knew the owner – to Ivy’s, a bar and guest house, and were glad to make the stop. Turned off the engines and dismounted. The end was near. All the rooms were filled, so we sent S. out to find us a guest house for the old and tired Dharma bums. We were going to wait in the bar for news. The dust was so thick in our throats we were choked with phlegm and indifference. S. found a guest house and we parked our broncos for the night and headed to our rooms.

Tomorrow would be Friday the 13th and a full moon. The Temples of Angkor Wat were tomorrow’s journey. A good shower and a night’s sleep were in order.