Category Archives: Uncategorized

Angkor Archaeological Park.

There is so much to tell about Angkor Wat, it’s four hundred square miles, the largest religious structure in the world, temple after temple, the huge crowds, the incredible heat, elephants (poor things), tuk tuks and more tuk tuks, beautiful ponds and moats, imposing gates, clouds of dust, market stalls and food booths, and of course the history. I am at a loss to know even where to start, so maybe I won’t. Type Angkor Wat into your favorite search engine and you can read about it for hours and hours, put far more eloquently than I can achieve.

That said I really was quite overwhelmed by the grandeur, the heart stopping moments at sunrise and sunset at Angkor Wat itself. The unexpected peace of sunrise at the lake, Sras Sarang where there only seven other tourists. The tranquility of Banteay Kdei, I didn’t even know it was there, hiding behind it’s gate adjacent to the lake. The imposing towers of Pre Rup and all those faces at Bayon. The spookiness of Ta Prohm with trees growing up and out of the walls. Other too. Too many to mention and anyway I have forgotten their names and my notes are a bit smudged, or is it my mind that is smudged. Lastly, the absolute horror story that was sunset at Phnom Bakheng.

Here then are some photos of my few days tuk tuking around the park, some with captions, some without. I think/hope they will speak for themselves. Lets see:

Sras Sarang.

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There were more children selling trinkets here than sunrise gazers.

There were more children selling trinkets here than sunrise gazers.

Bankeay Kdei.

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It's that man again!

It’s that man again!

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Pre Rup.

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I was quite charmed by the boy and his cows, at 6.00am.

I was quite charmed by the boy and his cows, at 6.00am.

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Angkor Wat.

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Sunrise.

Sunrise.

With the Lotus flowers.

With the Lotus flowers.

Lotus flowers.

Lotus flowers.

Sometimes it was not crowded at all.

Sometimes it was not crowded at all.

A bridge at the gateway.

A bridge at the gateway.

Bayon.

I left the visit to Bayon a bit late. The light had gone.

I left the visit to Bayon a bit late. The light had gone.

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Ta Prohm.

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Ta Prohm had these great walls. You know me and walls!

Ta Prohm had these great walls. You know me and walls!

Phnom Bakheng.

It was quite pleasant here for a little while.

It was quite pleasant here for a little while.

Then it wasn't. Truly the stuff of nightmares.

Then it wasn’t. Truly the stuff of nightmares.

Bizarrely, it was here that I saw my first ever drone. How odd.

Bizarrely, it was here that I saw my first ever drone. How odd.

I hope I have given you an idea of the splendor, the grandeur, the overall awesomeness.

Battambang to Siem Reap via the Sangkar River.

It’s as if a spring has sprung. From the doldrums of Battambang to the glories of Angkor Wat I am on sensory overload. There has been so much to see, so much to do I can’t help but feel I will leave something out.

First there was the B and B in Battambang, such a joy after the “resort”. I don’t think I do resorts very well, you are expected to stay within the compound and enjoy what they have to offer. I didn’t. The B and B was small, intimate and they really seemed to care that I was enjoying myself. So thanks Sangkar Villa. Up early one morning to catch the 7am boat down river to Siem Reap. What a heap the boat was, it looked like it might sink of its own accord even before the fifty plus passengers embarked. We all squeezed into the cabin with seating four across and an aisle in the middle, very narrow, bags, shopping, backpacks and cargo stacked around us and made our way out into the stream. Sitting, crammed all together in the cabin, reminiscent of a small plane, was more than I could endure with six or seven hours ahead so I clambered up onto the roof. With the now famous hat and scarf I was well protected from the sun and the hours sped by. I wanted it to never end. I made mental notes of my feelings along the way, all of which I have forgotten but I do remember that “there is something timeless about river travel”. The banks were alive with bird life, the jungle coming right up to the edge. Numerous dwellings, river traffic, fisher folk, everybody waved as we passed and then to the floating villages. What a concept. All the houses float and can be towed around by row boat (great if you don’t like the neighbors!). Everything was there, grocery stores, restaurants, schools, churches, Temples and they were all floating. Everyone went about their business as if they were on land but they weren’t, they were afloat, in boats. What a life. The river varied, sometimes hugely wide, maybe three quarters of a mile and then the driver would dart off into a side alley where the stream was as wide as the boat. People got scratched by the tree branches. We had to push our way through massive growths of Water Hyacinths growing on the surface. Then a most peculiar thing occurred.

Others, escaping the claustrophobia of the cabin, made their way up onto the roof and a lady sat next to me taking photos as if her life depended on it. She obviously heard me chatting to two Khmers when I mentioned that I was from California. I made some trite remark and we got to chatting. From California she asked, where? San Francisco says I, oh, where? Well Marin actually, oh where? San Anselmo says I. Ha ha says she, I live in Larkspur. There we were, on the roof of a boat, floating down the Sangkar river, miles from anywhere and we are neighbors. I might have sat somewhere else, caught the boat on a different day, chosen not to make a trite remark. But it all came together and oh my how we laughed. Sabine, travelling with her friend Bernadette, also from SF, have continued the journey, but mostly by tuk tuk.

Arriving at Siem Reap we negotiated the river bank and its mud and went to our various hotels. I had booked a standard room in a place downtown and when I was ushered into a poolside suite I raised an eyebrow. Jacuzzi, super shower all wood carved, sofas, armchairs, four poster bed, the works. BUT, it had windows facing away from the pool and without there was a most enormous construction site. Diggers, cranes, dozers, you name it they were all there. The noise was incredible. This did not last long and I left the next morning. They were pouring concrete at midnight and started work again at 7am. Now I am ensconced in what I think is a tour group hotel, never the same guests from one day to the next, lots of people for lunch and dinner but very few for breakfast. On the Western tourist circuit I think Siem Reap qualifies for one day, bus tour to Angkor Wat and that’s it, off to the next place.

The Bopha Ankor Hotel does have one major benefit, undiscovered by the people passing through. Down the dusty alley beside the hotel is this quite amazing restaurant, the Square 24, not one hundred yards away. The dishes served here are well up to Marin, San Francisco even London standards. I am now on my fifth visit and all the staff greets me with the usual bows and hand clasping, which I am now confident enough to return. Not only is the food absolutely delicious (organic ,locally sourced,  etc), the presentation brilliantly performed, the ambience perfect, cool and airy, the décor understated Khmer, but the place is often packed. The price is notable, I have not paid more than $12, though I now seem to qualify for complimentary ice cream and green tea. Even though reservations are recommended they have always seem able to find a corner table for me and here I am today, scribbling away, watching the upscale diners from Belgium, I think, drinking my lemonade.

Oh dear, I have reached nine hundred words and have yet to start on the wonders nearby. Angkor Wat, Tah Promh, Sokh Sang, Tonle Sap Lake, pub street. Lets see if I can make this a two post day.

The river was narrow.

The river was narrow.

The river was wide.

The river was wide.

There were shops.

There were shops.

A new take on "moving house".

A new take on “moving house”.

Wash day maybe.

Wash day maybe.

Life goes on.

Life goes on.

Off to school.

Off to school.

Monk in a hurry.

Monk in a hurry.

Waves!

Waves!

A lady picking up supplies from our boat.

A lady picking up supplies from our boat.

Through the flooded forest.

Through the flooded forest.

Angkor Wat and the moon at dawn

I was looking through my photos on the camera when I returned to my hotel, as one does, after a hard day’s templeing. I discovered that the one I took this morning sometime between 5.00am and 5.30am of the dawn breaking and the moon came out quite well, so I thought I would share it right now. Sorry there isn’t more but I will post a new blog tomorrow (promise). These 4.00am starts are somewhat exhausting. Off for dinner.

Sorry Vicky and all others!

Hope this works!

Hope this works!

OK, here is another one. Sunset this time.

OK, here is another one. Sunset this time.

Dinner calls but here I am at Tah Promh, the Tomb Raider Temple.

Dinner calls but here I am at Tah Promh, the Tomb Raider Temple.

Battambang, and a kink in the road.

Something went quite wrong for a little while. I was permitted to stay in my room in Phnom Penh with the great view of the river front but only for an extra day so rather then make do in a not so great a room for the rest of the Water Festival I jumped on a bus to Battambang. The bus ride was no great journey, maybe six hours, and at the bus station at my destination there was a tuk tuk driver with my name on a sign. This was something of a surprise as I had not booked a ride, but a pleasant one nonetheless, and I was happy to be transferred to the hotel for the princely sum of two dollars. My room was pleasant with a small shaded terrace in front but this is where things went slightly awry. I had a huge attack of lethargy. Just the thought of buying another ticket, waiting around for another bus, finding another hotel became overwhelming. I think I had what they call ‘hit the wall’. I was really quite miserable for a couple of days and was just a little concerned that maybe I was getting sick, malaria crossed my mind. The hotel was set a little ways out of town and I couldn’t even get up the get up and go to find a tuk tuk to chug the short distance to downtown. I have actually read that solo travelers get afflicted in this way after a while alone, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember the solution. Clearly this could not go on, so I texted my symptoms back to the family in far away San Anselmo and back came the solution, change hotels. Of course, palm to forehead. I moved. To a small villa run by a French couple from Paris, they have only owned it for six weeks and have a one year old and a four year old, Max, who goes to a Montessori School here in Battambang.

Well, Montessori is not unknown to me (!), we chatted, they immediately organized a tuk tuk tour of the town for me and insisted I join their family that evening for a trip to the circus. Lethargy fled away. Off around the sleepy town in the tuk tuk I saw many interesting things, one of which was a statue made entirely of melted down AK 47s (guns) created after the madness, it was really quite moving. Another was the enormous statue of the town’s founder (Ta Dumbong) with his stick. Battambang means “town of the lost stick”. It’s a great story but not worth going into here in any detail, just search for Battambang, lost stick and all will be revealed. I found some great restaurants, ate Western food a couple of times, walked the market, ambled through the streets admiring the colonial French architecture and generally threw off my funk.

Those in touch using Social Media will have seen me on the bamboo train, very funny in the pouring rain. This train, if it can be called a train, was created by the French and partially resurrected after being destroyed by the mad men. The little carriages (norrie or norry) are basically bamboo poles, strung together, making a bed, powered by two stroke engines, very loud, they can achieve speeds of 30 MPH, they seat four and are a big tourist attraction. I remarked to my tuk tuk driver that the clouds were looking a bit black, oh no, says he, it will not rain. We arrived at the station, a collection of shacks, and had to shelter as there was a shower. Climbing aboard we made our way down the track, the rain increased, a late monsoon, I got soaked and was on the verge of a sense of  humor failure when we arrived at the turnaround. Dashing into a shack we found hats, ponchos, water for sale and everybody smiled.

Off in the morning on the 7am boat, down the river, across the Tonle Sap Lake to Siem Reap. More tales of Angkor ahead.

The AK 47 statue.

The AK 47 statue.

Not much doubt what it is made of.

Not much doubt what it is made of.

Colorful market scene.

Colorful market scene.

The shoe department.

The shoe department.

Ta Dombong and his stick.

Ta Dombong and his stick.

The circus.

The circus.

More at the circus.

More at the circus.

The Bamboo Railway. You can see our carriage, or norrie, in the background, on the ground. someone has to give way!

The Bamboo Railway. You can see our carriage, or norrie, in the background, on the ground. someone has to give way!

The track ahead. About ten miles of it.

The track ahead. About ten miles of it.

Me on my Norry!

Me on my Norry!

Sleepy downtown Battambang.

Sleepy downtown Battambang.

Photos of the Water Festival in Phnom Penh.

There has not been a Water Festival for a few years as over 350 people died on a bridge here in 2010 during a panicked stampede. Therefore the authorities were out in force, closing roads, inspecting bags, setting up First Aid Posts and exercising crowd control. Just like home.

The Scene:

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The Racing Action:

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See the guy bailing!!

See the guy bailing!!

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The Boat Parade:

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Last minute adjustments, looks precarious.

Last minute adjustments, looks precarious.

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There were fireworks and I thought it would be nice to post a couple of great firework photos, but……..

I was wrong!!

I was wrong!!

Should have used a tripod.

Phew, hardest blog yet. Hope they look alright.

Bon Om Touk in Phnom Penh.

I woke up this morning with the sunrise and throwing open my doors I watched as the sun rose over the Mekong River. Definite goose bumps (pimples) moment which was augmented somehow by the atmosphere along the river bank. There seemed to be an air of expectancy about the place, which I couldn’t define but I knew it was there, so, leaving the doors open I went back to bed and listened. The hum grew, there was banging and pounding, beeping of course, but also laughing, shrills voices, faint cheers, boat horns sounding, this was no ordinary start to the day in Phnom Penh. No it was not. It is actually the start of Bon Om Touk, Bon Om Thook, Bonn Om Teuk or Bon Om Tuk. Oh really you say. Yes it is and it is exactly why I came to Cambodia at this time of year. The primary river of Cambodia, the Tonle Sap, does this miraculous thing twice every year. It changes direction. Yes! Really! During most of the year it flows South from the big Lake in the North and joins up with the Mekong here in Phnom Penh. During the rainy season however when the Mekong reaches flood stage the water in the Tonle Sap reverses direction and flows to the North back into the lake. I think that is most unusual and amazing and wanted to see it for myself. I missed it by a matter of days and the TS is now flowing to the South again, but the Cambodians think this is amazing too apparently and there is a huge week long festival, which began in the Twelfth Century, to celebrate the change of direction, it starts today and it is right outside my window.

The schools are closed, the population has the week off, the saffron robed monks are out in force blessing everybody, food booths have sprung up everywhere, the authorities are fencing off the green bits of the riverside park (hence the pounding and banging), the cops are everywhere, lounging on their motorcycles and on the river there are hundreds and hundreds of Dragon boats. Crewed by anything up to eighty rowers these brightly colored racing boats are up to one hundred feet long, many feature an eye on either side of the prow to ward off evil spirits and there will be three days of racing starting on Wednesday. Not only do the rowers face forwards, unlike back home, but there are some boats with all the rowers standing up. Today, and for the next two days there will be practices and elimination rounds. I was due to leave on Tuesday so I quickly remedied that, though getting a riverside room was impossible. There is a rooftop restaurant/bar from which I can watch if the crowds become too much, they anticipate over one million people to attend the fun and games, and this is happening right outside where I am staying. How great is that!

There are other tributes to the river as well, some Holy, like Auk Ambok when the celebrants gather at the Temples at midnight and eat ambok (flattened rice) mixed with banana and coconut. There will be parades along the river featuring illuminated boats during the evenings and apparently everyone gives thanks to the moon in anticipation of a good harvest.

It all sounds pretty fantastic, I stumbled on it by accident and I have only been here for twenty-four hours. I will keep you posted.

Update: I popped out again to see what was happening. Balloon sellers, more food booths, some drumming and the biggest line dance I have ever seen, Cambodian style, there are hundreds of swaying bodies all along the river bank. I have learned a new word “fluvial” as in “fluvial activities”, rivery stuff? I’m sure somebody knows.

Sunrise over the Mekong this morning.

Sunrise over the Mekong this morning.

A section of the riverside park on the banks of the Tonle Sap.

A section of the riverside park on the banks of the Tonle Sap.

Dragon Boats.

Dragon Boats.

More Dragon Boats and look at that horror story of a new hotel in the background. Right at the confluence of the two rivers. Quite ghastly.

More Dragon Boats and look at that horror story of a new hotel in the background. Right at the confluence of the two rivers. Quite ghastly.

Food booth.

Food booth.

Another food booth.

Another food booth.

Another one. OK, enough food booths!

Another one. OK, enough food booths!

Kid's activity apparatus on riverside park.

Kid’s activity apparatus on riverside park.

A young entrepreneur, selling water.

A young entrepreneur, selling water.

Another view of riverside park, just so you know what I am talking about.

Another view of riverside park, just so you know what I am talking about.

Pampered in Samet

   Heading south over the Gulf of Thailand. Its exciting just to be able to say that. From Utapao International Airport which has to be the smallest airport I have ever flown out of, only two fights per day. A motley collection of fellow passengers and sorry to say most of them are sexpats from the fleshpots of Pattaya, with their young girlfriends. Two of them are huge roughnecks from the oil fields of North Dakota who I would not care to meet on a dark night, the girlfriends, tiny. There are a couple of families, two Swiss guys who seem a bit hungover and pale, that’s about it. Me of course, Kinda Blue, after saying bye bye to such a friendly family I am lost for words. 

Notes From A Small Island. (Sorry Bill Bryson)

   You may remember I fell in with a group of people on the ferry over to Samet and we all got together, every day I think. I found a fellow computer/gadget nerd in the Tim from the south of England, we may have bored the pants off the others but tried to geek out only when the others were away. His fiancé, Danielle, or Binnzey, was always bundles of Yorkshire laughs and what would we have done without her to figure out the balances of the dinner check.

   They left for the jungles of the north and it was just five, admittedly one was eight months and another three years, but sure as …… we were five. Luca the Dad, who turned out to be a qualified Doctor, not a med student at all, announced we would rent a scooter, a scooter, not two, just one. After running into the back of a bus with my first born in utero I have a mild fear of two wheeled machines. But he seemed to have the situation under control and, after all, he was a Doctor. He picked me up from my hotel and we sped down to the southern tip of the island where he had dropped off Julie, Mom, and Paulina, eight month old, earlier. A pretty cove with an ok resort, painted villas in multi colors, nice food for lunch, not expensive, nothing is, then some package tour visitors from a small island off the North coast of Europe arrived, we left. Making our way North again I thought Luca was joking, but no, we were all five on the scooter. Amalie kept us all in the right mood, ie fearless, by giggling infectiously every time the driver beeped, which he did frequently. We were quite a sight. There are photos to prove it. We wended (?) our way up the coast, found a French resort, found a Russian resort and found one where we were not allowed to enter, $2,000 per night for the least expensive room and on up from there. How nuts is that. 

   Finally the eight month old (Paulina) announced she was done with such uncomfortable accommodations, so we dropped her off by the side of the road with Julie for a bit of a feed and proceeded to the next resort. Amalie and I were dropped at the gate while Luca went back to retrieve the rest of his family. Walking down the steep hill into the resort it suddenly struck me, ok, this is fine, looking after a three year old, but I don’t speak any German! It was fine though, she delighted in the fish pools, we made finger food out of sand, I bought her an ice cream and all was right with the world. The others caught up and we indulged in sundowner cocktails and I played the idiot with the setting sun. Back then later to the beach where we had found an eminently convenient restaurant where they threw blankets on the sand, put a table on top and served dinner. Perfect for small people, perfect too if one wished to indulge in the local hootch (rum), not too far to fall.

   We had some moments, actually lots of moments. Here’s one: my money belt got tangled up with the string that holds my swimmies up, under my shorts. I had to, as it were, peer, to untangle the mess.”Is everything ok Tim?” said Julie, hesitantly. Hilarity ensued and I could only reply “debatable”.  Lots of moments,  but then it was off on the speedboat ferry to the mainland, a short taxi ride to the airport and fly away. They are now spending six months looking after Burmese orphans up near the border, Julie at the school and Luca at the hospital. I wish them great success and hope to be able to cross paths with them again somewhere. 

Who knows?

Five on the scooter.

Five on the scooter.

Corny photo. I can add it to the one of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

Corny photo. I can add it to the one of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

An interesting phenom' one morning.

An interesting phenom’ one morning.

The 'path' between the beaches.

The ‘path’ between the beaches.

A group outing on a boat with apologies to Paulina!

A group outing on a boat with apologies to Paulina!

Paulina started to crawl. Much excitement.

Paulina started to crawl. Much excitement.

Tim in Thailand

Hi and hello. I hear rumors that you have missed me. There have been phone calls, emails, texts, where’s Tim? Has he been kidnapped? Is he alright? Sick? Where is he? Short answer, Samet, in the Gulf of Thailand. It is a mere speck of an island only five Kms from top to bottom and about point five across. It is thankfully underdeveloped probably due to the roads, if you could call them roads, potholed tracks might be a better description. No high rises, no ghastly ‘resorts’, no hustlers,  few beach sellers. There is a party scene but some way away from where I am. I like it.

My visa was up in China so I looked around for cheap flights out of Shanghai and found a red eye to Bangkok. The price seemed right and no visa forms are required in advance so I went for it. Then I found I could get the MagLev to the airport. Hold me back. Short for Magnetic Levitation it is the world’s fastest train, 200 MPH. A very smooth ride out of town to Shanghai’s big, new modern airport, no hassle through emigration, though my checked  bag had to be opened and inspected. I was carrying too much money in it, Uzbek Som notes, which you may remember are practically worthless. Anyway, the lady was very friendly and I moved them from the checked bag to my carry on and she seemed satisfied….go figure. Then a huge plane, I was in row 72 and away for the four hours to Bangkok.

I was met, praise be, and quickly transferred to my hotel, where I was greeted at reception at 3am by hand clasping and smiling Thais. I will accentuate smiling, at 3am. Oh joy. Smiles at last. The first for many weeks. I had two beers from the mini bar and sighing with relief fell asleep. Up early later I ventured out into the streets of the city and found that maybe I was in the wrong place. Was I in Torremolinos,  Cancun? Vodka shots at 10.30am? Lots of vodka shots. Conga lines, Karaoke, group sing-along’s. This is not going to last long I say to myself. I put myself in an awkward situation as I have an old friend who lives and works here, at The British Club in fact. I called and spoke to him, gave him my local phone number and the name of my hotel and he said he would call and we would do lunch. He didn’t call. I extended my stay. He didn’t call. I left town.

I caught a bus, a small bus, down the Gulf coast east of Bangkok, to a small port where I could catch a ferry to the small island of Samet babout a half hour off the coast. The boat seemed reluctant to leave so all of us from the bus got to chatting, a German couple from Munich, Luca, a med’ student, his wife Julia, a Montessori teacher (!), Amalie aged two and Paulina at eight months. There were also Tim from the New Forest in Hampshire (UK) and his fiancée, Danielle from Hull, Yorkshire. We had a grand time, the others all booked themselves into the same hotel and the one I had pre-booked on the Internet is only a five minute walk away so we get together most days and pass the time.

   That really is the problem, we just pass the time, eat meals, play with the children, and pass the time. There is nothing much really to write about. The guy selling brooms from a pole slung over his back passes by every morning, which is a major event in my day. The lady with a portable BBQ cooking chicken and fish slung over her shoulder makes an appearance and then disappears. The monsoon makes the occasional rain shower, and everyone heads for shelter. It soon passes. Chinese tourists, mostly young women, appear in speed boats, disembark, take selfies, take group selfies, giggle, screech at each other and then vanish. Where do they come from, where do they go? The hotel staff take breakfast out to the Buddha shrine in the grounds every morning and leave it there as an offering. Wonderfully charming. The beach I am staying on is quiet, very quiet, I count four others on it right now, but a short walk North or South reveals busy beaches and restaurants. Lots and lots of restaurants so as well as taking a rest from the last few weeks I can eat, and eat. The menus are all in English, the food when it arrives is recognizable as food and so I have been catching up after the foodless weeks. The food is delicious, curries for me mostly, rice of course, green vegetables, fruit and I think I may be losing that rather gaunt, starving look. I certainly feel better and have stopped sneezing finally. That has been going on since the yurt in Kyrgyzstan.

   I took advisement before even considering posting this as I didn’t want to annoy everyone with the dull, same old, same old stories of Thailand. I have heard enough to last a lifetime. But there is my contribution. I only got a short stay visa so will be moving on again soon. I hope to return to Cambodia and see some of the things I missed last time, The Plain of Jars, the Tonle Sap river flowing in the opposite direction, maybe take in more of the temples at Angkor, return to Kep, see more of the Mighty Mekong. Be assured that if something notable occurs you will know about it soonest, but I doubt that it will. The tide goes out. The tide comes in. And everyone smiles.

Typical Thai. About fifty yards away.

Typical Thai. About fifty yards away.

 

 

Shanghai.

Warning: This post contains graphic images and descriptions. Of buildings!

Shanghai was overwhelming. I was overwhelmed. Every moment was overwhelming. Every glance, up, down, sideways, every which way was a visual, shattering blow to the senses. Lets get right to it. Shanghai is divided into two major parts divided by a river, the Huangpu. There is the old colonial section (Pu Xi) on the West side of the river fronted by a street called the Bund and on the East side is Pudong, which as recently as twenty years ago was green fields and the occasional factory. Between the Bund and the river is a very long walkway for the crowds of citizens to stroll along of an evening and enjoy the views of Pudong over on the other side. What crowds, what views. My first sight of Pudong took my breath away. Of course I had seen pictures but nothing could have prepared me for the reality of the Oriental Pearl TV Tower. A staggeringly unique piece of architecture it dominates the skyline even though some of the adjacent buildings are taller. I would love to be able to describe it adequately. It’s round, it’s vertical, it soars, it flows, it floats, it exudes daring, it appears to defy gravity. Ok, I’ll shut up now, but wait until you see the photos.

Then there were the crowds on the Bund , swollen I suppose by the fact that I was there during the long, seven day, National Holiday. There is an expression, a sea of people, this was no sea, this was an ocean, a Pacific Ocean of people. I think dusk was the peak period, when everyone came to see the effect of the sunset over the river. The whole family came out, Moms and Dads, the kids and the older folk, bringing their bags of fruit, soft drinks, (no booze), and their phones. Everyone had a phone and was taking pictures with it, of each other, of the view, of themselves, of me! With me! Interesting how one could see similarities from home, there were hipsters, there were punks, arty students, drama kings and queens, fashionistas, poseurs, even a Goth or two. But it was the immensity of the crowd that really impressed me, it was like Oxford Street on the day before Christmas, The Marina district for July 4th fireworks, Princes Street at Hogmanay,combined. It was all reasonably good natured, no drunkenness, no agro, no pushing, shoving, no bad mouthing. But loud, incredibly loud, everyone was talking, at full volume. I sat and gawped for some hours, every evening. And took pictures with my phone. The crowd control personnel were of course much in evidence. There were police squads at every intersection backed up by the militia, unarmed though, not even truncheons, but they did have whistles, and they used them, frequently. They didn’t even look fierce, just young kids, standing to attention in their uniforms. Keeping in mind the situation in Hong Kong I tried to judge the political mood of the crowd, I couldn’t. (TV news has been blacked out for three days and equally I haven’t been able to access the Internet from my computer). I did come across an impromptu dance music party, portable speakers and a generator, and watched it being closed down really quickly by big men in white shirts. Everyone just drifted off.

Anecdotally, I was on the Bund on the first evening of the Holiday at around 4oclock and noticed people sitting down anywhere they could, on walls, steps, the ground and thought, great, fireworks. So I found a spot to perch and waited. More people sat down around me until movement was just about impossible. The railing along the river’s bank was jammed, ten people deep. Darkness fell. The lights in and on the buildings across the river came on and everyone gasped, took more pictures, and that was it. My expectations I suppose, nobody but me was disappointed. I found that quite interesting. A Western thing to expect pyrotechnics on major holidays? But wait, these guys invented fireworks. Maybe they do them on a different holiday.

Shall I mention walking down Nanjing street, a pedestrian shopping area? More crowds, a shoppers paradise, its one of the top ten shopping streets in the world and the things for sale were not only material! Ahem! I took three bus tours around the City and visited some Temples. The French Quarter looked interesting, but alas, no time. There is a fabulous Opera House, a huge museum, the stadiums from the recent Olympics, lots and lots to see, but not in three days. I went on a coach tour to see the tea plantations but didn’t see any, the Yangtze River, didn’t see that either, we did go to a water village, kind of a Chinese mini Venice and a craft shop or two. There was a silk factory, poor worms! More shopping. It took ten hours from door to door.

China is big and there are lots of people.

Pudong waterfront from the Bund.

Pudong waterfront from the Bund.

What a masterpiece.

What a masterpiece.

Night view.

Night view.

Crowd.

Crowd.

Crowd control.

Crowd control.

A tranquil part of the water village. Unlike the rest of it.

A tranquil part of the water village. Unlike the rest of it.

Beijing.

South we go today on the high speed train from Beijing to Shanghai. Cities? Love them or hate them, I found Beijing hard to love. There was the famous smog, oh so horrible, which pervades everything. It reduces visibility and while you might think you are breathing normally just wait until you blow your nose! It is the nation’s capital, so everything is overpriced and you have to continually weigh up whether this purchase is really necessary. A beer in one bar is half the cost at the bar just across the street only fifty yards away. There were hustlers too and I fell for it on day one. The route firmly in my mind I set off to walk from the hotel to the Forbidden Palace, only a half hour walk and mostly a straight line. But. Two beaming students fell in step with me and welcomed me to Beijing. Fine. Nice. They followed me into the travel agency. Odd. Off to the Palace again they suggested that I might like to see their art exhibit. Well OK. We wove through arrow streets and I completely lost my sense of direction. More weaving and we came to their studio, nice enough, but no thank you, I don’t want to buy anything. And left in a bit of a huff. I was then lost for the next while and the only part of the Forbidden City I located was the moat by which time I was exhausted. Back then to the hotel and a nap and a wasted day in Beijing. Grumble grumble.

The hotel Concierge to the rescue. The excellent Yina, apologizing for the art students, calmed me down, dusted me off and suggested a trip the see the Great Wall the next day. When I said I wanted to see the Forbidden Palace as well she told me to turn on my computer in my room and book an extra day online as it would be less than half the price of extending my stay at the reception desk. OK, great. That worked. Then the travel agency found me a train ticket to Shanghai. Things were looking up after a rather bad start. Sure, I felt a bit stupid but worse things have happened in other Capital Cities, there was that time in Rome…….

To the Wall I went. Not to Badaling , the popular destination, but a bit further away to a place called Mutianyu where there is a cable car ride up into the mountains. This of course would be wonderful except I suffer from vertigo, or just a fear of cable cars in general. Would you believe it, my phone worked and I could text back home. Soothing words, again, just think of it as the ride up to that winery in Napa Valley (Stirling). OK, sure, but there’s no wine at the end of this ride. Bravery won the day and off I went. It got better. I could text photos of the Great Wall, with a slight delay, from a cable car, in the mountains of China, to our small town in Northern California. Things have changed, no more waiting until you get home to develop the film and then get reprints and then post them, in an envelope, with a stamp. Oh no, not any more. This is 2014, we text our photos of the Great Wall from our phones and they are received, thousands of miles away, on the other side of the planet, in a matter of seconds.

Brilliant!

I did visit the Forbidden Palace but that was preceded by a quite extraordinary event:

I was chatting with the Concierge staff about my taxi ride to the Palace and asked if they would explain to the driver to drive past Tiananmen Square on the way so I could at least glimpse it. It is rather famous. Yina hummed and hawed then said, come on, I’ll take you, in one of my cars. Pardon? Take me? One of your cars? Sure, lets go, it’s a bit slow today and it will be a good lesson for one of the trainees. Down into the bowels of the staff parking lot and we piled into her rather smart Buick van. On the way she explained that she wanted a BMW but her husband had reservations as he thought she drove too fast. I got to see the famous Square in some style and didn’t have to join any of the huge security lines to gain access. They worry about the Falun Gong setting themselves on fire she explained, nonchalantly. She took photos for me out of the driver’s side window. I heard great stories about the Olympics, how an Australian tv crew were staying at the hotel and couldn’t be bothered to attend some of the events they were supposed to cover so gave the tickets to the staff. She had been to the gymnastics and the swimming, for free. Not only that. The tv crew had their own butler, provided by the hotel, who used the two tickets the crew gave him to the Opening Ceremony to treat his Dad. And Then. He sold his two tickets to the Closing Ceremony, bought a new car and retired back to his village. $10k each. Eat yer hearts out Olympic fans. It was great, she said, all the subways and buses were free for the duration of the Games, but nobody at the hotel used them, they all had to stay in the basement parking lot which was converted into dormitories. They were paid for 24 hours a day for the duration of the Games, but worked regular shifts. Nice.

She dropped me off at the Palace ticket office, explaining that the trainee would escort me round if I paid for his ticket. Hey, no problem…..Hmm, but, not only had he never been to the Palace before but his English was, shall we say, a bit limited. I gave him my camera and he happily snapped away. My history is a bit rusty but I think there was a war sometime at the beginning of the Twentieth Century. The Eight Allies? Opium Wars? Anyway the invading army completely looted the Palace. Quite disappointing. The buildings themselves were a marvel to behold, but I felt it was all a bit sad so I won’t go on. Or am I just a Philistine?

I gave the hotel and Concierge staff a five star revue on Trip Advisor.

Attempting the arty shot.

Attempting the arty shot.

Not too crowded.

Not too crowded.

Off into the distance.....

Off into the distance…..

Just in case you have forgotten what I look like.

Just in case you have forgotten what I look like.

It was a quiet day on the Wall.

It was a quiet day on the Wall.

There he is.

There he is.

It is a very large square.

It is a very large square.

There he is again. He does rather dominate the scene.

There he is again. He does rather dominate the scene.

Mao's mausoleum.

Mao’s mausoleum.

Forbidden Palace.

Forbidden Palace.