
The local people have these swirls on their faces which act as sunscreen. Unique amongst indigenous peoples.

The Mon Bridge in Sangkhlaburi. Named after the Mon People who dwell on the other side of the water.

The local people have these swirls on their faces which act as sunscreen. Unique amongst indigenous peoples.

The Mon Bridge in Sangkhlaburi. Named after the Mon People who dwell on the other side of the water.
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged Bridge on the River Kwai, Kanchanaburi, Mon Bridge, River Kwai, Sangkhlaburi
Note to self, don’t order Biryani on a plane, the rice falls everywhere!
Two weeks in Thailand, what a great time. I spent a couple of low key days in Bangkok, acclimating, or as the Brits say, acclimatizing, in the narrow alleys, outside my hotel. Then it was time to go up country to Sangkhlaburi, near the Myanmar border, where my German friends were working at an orphanage/hospital. How amazing to see them again, we had met in Koh Samet back in October and we were able to pick up from where we left off. Amalie, still two years old, can now hold a conversation in English, Italian and of course, German. Paolina, one year old, walks, runs, falls over, and has a wonderful beaming smile on her face, mostly! Mom and Dad, Juli and Luca were well, but tired I think, they have a grueling schedule. But respect where respect is due, six months in the jungle covered mountains with two little ones is no mean feat. I will be interested to hear how they re enter into Germany in early March.
They, of course, had to work during the day so I had plenty of time to myself, drinking green tea and blissing out on the views. Sangkhlaburi is a fantastically pretty place, set beside a reservoir, a huge wooden bridge crossing it. Temples dot the ridges and faint sounds of gongs, bells and chanting drift across the water constantly. Famously there are only four roads, which makes getting lost well nigh impossible, and there really is not much to do at all. Visit the temples, sure, wander about, visit the market,see what there is to see but then you’ve done it all, so sitting on a cliff top or in a perched cafe and taking in the view is what’s done. I loved every minute and felt a bit reluctant to leave, but the Fam’ were off to Cambodia for a visa run (renew visas) so away I went, a day before them, to do some sight seeing.
I caught the bus through the mountains and down to the plain, about a five hour ride. Lots to see out of the window, tangled jungle, bird life, soaring peaks, hair raising corners, seat belts worn, and peculiarly, well manicured verges. Covered in garbage, but remarkably well mown and maintained for miles and miles, I have no explanation for that. Breakfast was provided, a sweet roll and water, better than nothing I suppose, pit stops every couple of hours and then we were down. Down to the River Kwai at Kanchanaburi. They’ve got a Bridge there.
Dumped unceremoniously at the bus station, I was the only one who got off, there was the inevitable question, how do I get to my hotel. Bicycle tuk tuks looked a bit doubtful, as did riding on the back of a motor bike, but I eventually realized that a pick up truck was the favored mode of transport in town and off I went, clinging on in the back. Pleasantly situated along the river bank the hotel was definitely past its sell by date, but again, it’s only one night. After locking myself out of my room and then fixing the overflowing loo I set out on the path marked ‘To the Bridge’. Nice walk along the river, camera out, taking photos, me in full tourist mode I ambled along following the signs. Wouldn’t you believe it, the signs stopped, the path ran out and I was confronted by a large wall. Why does that happen? Undeterred I followed the wall, away from the river, and found myself in a field where there was some sort of Corporate Team Building event going on, not sure who was more startled, me or them, there were hundreds of them, and only me. Extricated myself from that and found another sign ‘To the Bridge’ with warnings not to venture down the path after dark. Up an embankment, followed the railway line, and there I was, on The Bridge on the River Kwai.
Maybe some younger viewers haven’t seen the movie but if I remember rightly it was one of the first of David Lean’s movies and well worth checking out for his direction and the terrific cast. Quite what went on here during World War Two I cannot imagine, the bridge was built by Allied POWs and much inhumanity was inflicted upon them. Just the sight of the single track railway gave me the chills and to stand on the bridge was extremely emotive.
There were abundant tourists, mostly Thai, walking across, some Europeans but not many. Nobody whistling Colonel Bogey. Lots of picture taking but it was so narrow I couldn’t find a decent angle tho the view from the river bank was impressive. On a lighter note, a train came. Yes, the bridge is still in full time use as a railway bridge across the river. Anyway, the train approached, hooter hooting, lights glaring, at a walking pace and mass panic ensued, screaming, running, falling over as people made their way to the many refuges or balconies set out on the edges of the bridge every twenty feet or so. Why the panic? just another mystery. I sat on the bank and pondered, pondered that both my Father and Step Father were in this Theatre of WW2 and all that implied. Well, Gentlemen, I came here on my own little pilgrimage and said a wee prayer for the both of you.
On then to Bangkok. I joined the fam’ on their bus as it passed through town and we had a happy ride together all the way to Bangkok. A couple of minor disasters on arrival. One, we couldn’t find a taxi that knew where their hotel was located. There was about forty five minutes of failed taxi hailing with Juli getting a little anxious , and then Two, we got to the hotel, the door was locked and the reception had gone on a break and wouldn’t be back for an hour. In many cultures this would have led to a massive melt down and sense of humor failure, but hey not these guys. Dragging cases, bags, packs and babies we headed for the nearest restaurant and passed the requisite hour. We said sad goodbyes and I was off into the darkened streets to find a taxi, only just slightly scary. The hotel staff were delighted to see me…again, and gave me an upgraded room. The bar down the street saw me arrive and produced my beer without me having to ask. Sometimes it’s the little things.
Oh, did I mention the first MISTAKE? No. My ATM card wouldn’t work despite me telling the bank that I would be here and obviously I had to call them. I went through the usual rigmarole of being on hold, the line cutting out, all those security questions and then the guy said, ‘but it’s expired’. Oh no! Imagine my chagrin. Big oops there! Julia was kind enough to FedEx the replacement and it was waiting for me at reception when I checked in. Phew. In other news I bought a tailor made suit. It wasn’t too painful, the gent in the shop was very patient helping me choose the color, dark blue, the style, classic, a vest (waistcoat) , yes, shirts, yes two, bright white, a tie, dark blue again, shipped, yes please and I came away after three fittings for a very reasonable price, well actually ridiculously cheap. Sister Sally says I will look very sartorial at THE wedding in July. Hope so.
Here I am then at 30,000 feet again over the South China Sea on my way to Kota Kinabalu. Really you say, and where exactly might that be. Well, it’s on the North coast of Borneo and I have no idea what to expect.
I will keep you posted.
Arrived Kota Kinabalu but bag still in Kuala Lumpur. Can’t publish photos until chord catches up. Sorry. Will try to upload tomorrow.
This was written after a visit to the Killing Fields outside Phnom Penh in November. I lost my enthusiasm for a while.
Please heed the warning below if you are easily shocked.
Kep, on the coast of Cambodia, is surely something of an oasis. Most people seem to visit to just sleep whether it be in one of the hotels, guest houses, bungalows, or just swing in a hammock all day in one of the many, many thatched shacks that line the shore and beaches. The little town fills up over the weekend with visitors from Phnom Penh but for the rest of the week it is almost deserted. So much has happened, and not happened, since I arrived there that I might miss an important point or two. Right now I am in a local bus making my way down the Mekong Delta in Viet Nam to Can Tho, so yes, I’ve got some stories to tell since leaving Angkor and Siem Reap.
I shirked the twelve hour bus ride south to the coast and took a plane. Only a forty five minute flight, quite inexpensive, and a lot less boring than the long bus ride. From Sihanoukville I got a ride along the coast to Kep and a happy return to the Lodge. Not too much has changed, lots of dogs, monkeys, geckos, bats, amazing views and a feeling of isolation from the world at large. The Swiss owner is still there but seems to have a spouse problem, caused perhaps by having too many! They put me up in one of their newer rooms, a complimentary upgrade for a returning customer, it featured a balcony with a hammock, a mozzie net around the bed, hot water in the shower and the best view over the tree tops to the sea below. I had some fun with the webcam over the tiny pool adopting poses for the folk back home to see. I ate regular meals, took a tuk tuk into the town, lay on the new beach (they have imported the sand), made friends with some girls who owned a barbecue stall who fed me fish, and generally took a time out from the world for a whole week. It was quite blissful.
And then, and then, and then……..
I went back to Phnom Penh from Kep, got my visa for Viet Nam, saw a few sites and headed off down the Mekong. Hmm, that’s a whole lot in one brief sentence. Actually I went to Cheoung Ek and have yet to recover. Well, this was my third visit to P.P. and I got a kick in the pants from my sister in law (Vicky) so I went. In a tuk tuk, of course. They were doing something to the road, driver stopped and bought me one of face masks everyone wears around here. I felt very local. Relieved also in the clouds of dust. It was very hot. We got there. I bought a ticket and was given headphones for the audio tour. The following two hours or so were some of my worst. I have been trying to find the words for the last two weeks, they won’t come. Horrifying, horrible, heartbreaking. Maybe you have seen a movie, the Killing Fields. I have not. On the way back to town I was texting my distress back home and the wife, Jules, said comforting things and soothing words, as always. But it’s still there and I went.
Then off down the Mekong to Viet Nam. I was dropped of in a kind of a one horse town in the Delta, Chao Doc. No hotel, no nothing that I could see. There was a guy with a bicycle that had a little trailer on the back on top of which was what looked like a large tea tray with a hole in the middle. I sat on it, feet through the hole, clutching bags, and off he peddled. Well, this is a riot thinks I. Finally we came to what might be called downtown. There was a hotel, kind of. But it was only for one night so who cares. There didn’t appear to be any food around so I did what the locals all seemed to be doing, sitting on plastic lawn chairs in the dust, drinking beer and watching the traffic. One way to spend an evening I suppose.
Following are some very gruesome, graphic and upsetting photos. Please, if you are easily distressed or easily disturbed,
DO NOT GO FURTHER. I AM NOT KIDDING.
Sorry about that, the long interval I mean. I have been busy and so much has happened I can’t even think where or when to start. My creative juices, such as they are, dried up after a trip to Cheoung Ek, aka The Killing Fields, outside Phnom Penh which was such a shattering blow to my psyche that I completely dried up. I still cannot find the right words but from what I hear the movie of the same name conveys the emotions quite well. I cannot recommend it as I have not seen it but it might be on TV and there is always Netflix.
I will attach my last blog to the end of this one. It may be confusing as it will be a sort of flash back, but you might be interested.
Onward then with the journey, which I might add is continuing. I am currently at 40,000 feet over Dushanbe and Samarkand (hello again).
To Can Tho I went, an interesting little town deep in the Mekong Delta. I thought I would be bored but no, it was great. Exotic springs to mind and I was so slowed down by then that I sat, quite happily, watching the river traffic, dodging monsoon storms and drinking tea for hours and hours. There were of course tourist attractions, the dawn floating market, the enormous bridge, and the Christmas carols. Yes Christmas carols. Seems the whole country goes crazy for the Holiday, carols blast out from bars and restaurants, Santas ride around on scooters, there are trees (plastic), decorations everywhere, Christmas cards are sold on the street from impromptu stalls, it was all a bit baffling in what I thought was a Buddhist Country.
A boat then to the island of Phu Quok which turned out to be the best place for my final week. Extremely relaxed, no hassle anywhere, great food, lovely people and a beach with warm water. I met a couple from Linz, Austria on the boat ride over and we all stayed at the same eco hotel. Tim and Danielle (from Koh Samet) turned up coincidently and many an evening was spent at the beach bar.
Too soon it was time to go back to Saigon, do my Christmas shopping and make my way to Seattle for Christmas with the family. They kind of insisted that I should attend so I did. They are family after all so they have rights. I had been dreading my last night in the East for weeks, kind of a chapter closing, but my friends Ursi and Robert, from Austria, were also in town and they invited me for dinner. It was their seventh ‘Toothbrush Day’ so celebrations were in order. Toothbrush Day? I was perplexed. It marked the day seven years before that Ursi had put her toothbrush in Robert’s tooth mug. How charming is that! What a lovely couple, it was so sad to say goodbye the next day, but we are in touch on the Facebook and somehow I will get myself to Linz one day, maybe on another Toothbrush Day.
Long, long airplane ride to Seattle and arriving realized I was in Saigon clothes and this was Seattle, in December, I got some very funny looks. Huge build up to Christmas, shopping, wrapping, cooking, all the usual stuff but interesting to spend the first one at the house of one of my children. I guess the baton has been passed on. That’s ok. I won’t go into all the family fun but suffice it to say it was absolutely fabulous. Twenty five around the table, crackers, hats, tons of food, flaming puddings, gifts, a one year old who started walking, leftovers, nice wine, some rum and cokes. Marvelous time.
Then it was all a bit busy for the resumption my journey. To Marin to sort a few things out, fix computers, see friends etc. Then back to Seattle for the cheap flight to Frankfurt, and Edinburgh to stay with my Sister Sally. Another great time, I love Edinburgh, cold though, very, very cold. More great times with old school friend in York, to London to stay with an old room mate, more fun, it snowed. I had a lovely lunch beside the River Thames with my Sister in Law Vicky and her husband Terry. Then to my Mother’s in Winchester for a week before getting on this plane back to Bangkok. Thanks you everyone back there, you were all so generous, friendly and accommodating. I will miss you all.
Now you are up to date and I am halfway from Paris to Bangkok and over Islamabad. I did get a bit anxious before a sleep that our route was taking us over Eastern Ukraine and Crimea, but when I woke up, still alive, I saw that we had taken a huge swoop to the South. Something of a relief. What’s next? A few days in Bangkok to recover from this marathon then to Sangkhlaburi, up near the border with Myanmar to see Luca, Juli, Amalie and Paolina where they have been working at an orphanage since September and our stay at Koh Samet. Apparently I shall be teaching English. I’m looking forward to that.
Does this make any sense at 40,000 feet? I hope so. I’m going to go to sleep again so see you in Bangkok.
I arrived at 6.00am, the height of the rush hour and the legendary traffic jams did not disappoint. I was greeted with many smiles and welcome backs at the hotel and of course the hand clasping, which I now know to be called a wai, plus I am almost brave enough to say ‘sah wah dee kap, Hi or hello.
Onward then to who knows where or what but I have a plan for the next few weeks so stay tuned and lets hope the jet lag doesn’t last too long.
NB. A meeting of the Editorial Staff voted for the last blog post to be posted separately. I will abide by their decision!
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.
Bankeay Kdei.
Pre Rup.
Angkor Wat.
Bayon.
Ta Prohm.
Phnom Bakheng.
I hope I have given you an idea of the splendor, the grandeur, the overall awesomeness.
Posted in Uncategorized
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.
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged Battambang, Floating villages, Sangkar River, Siem Reap, Square 24
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!
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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.
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:
The Racing Action:
The Boat Parade:
There were fireworks and I thought it would be nice to post a couple of great firework photos, but……..
Should have used a tripod.
Phew, hardest blog yet. Hope they look alright.
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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.