Flying Solo in SE Asia: What have I been doing lately?

So it's been a while since I've posted. I've been on the go a lot the past couple of weeks, and much of Northern Cambodia and Southern Laos either doesn't have internet, or it costs a small fortune to use. Anyway, the past week and a half has been spent rediscovering my muscles, then rewarding myself with a few days of doing nothing but relaxing.

After Battambang, I took a bus to Phnom Penh, where I spent a couple of days in a dingy room at the #11 Happy Guesthouse on the banks of Boeng Kak Lake. The room, about the size of a walk-in closet, with no windows and stains on the walls and sheets, was not the best I've stayed in, but you get what you pay for. I paid $2. Despite the room, the guesthouse was probably a pretty cool place a year ago. Boeng Kak was a huge lake in Central Phnom Penh, with great sunsets over the city. But the local government sold it to developers, who have filled in most of the lake (that's gotta be good for the environment) and begun constructing a huge mosque and several high rises. Now the lake is reduced to the size of a small pond. In another year, it should be gone, with the owners of lakeside properties getting $6,000 US dollars for their land. It's a shame, because the area is home to most of Phnom Penh's affordable backpacker lodges and some of the best food. For now, it's still a pretty cool atmosphere--a more chilled-out version of Khao San Road in Bangkok, with loads of travelers sharing information and loads of hammocks to while away the hours.

As far as cities go, Phnom Penh is doing quite well for itself, considering 30 years ago it was a ghost town. It didn't do much for me, but a lot of people love it. There's a lot of construction going on and in about five years, I bet this place will be lightyears ahead of where it is now. One expat I met who moved to Cambodia in 2000 said there weren't even stoplights then, because there were almost no cars or motorbikes in the city.

My first full day there, I visited the Killing Fields and S-21, both of which were as horrible as you would expect. I still have a hard time grasping how something like this could be allowed to happen, especially after the whole world had already witnessed the Hitler regime. Unfortunately, Cambodia became the dirty little secret of the Vietnam War era, and most Western nations preferred to allow the Khmer Rouge to rule rather than seeing Vietnam succeed in conquering them. It's something most Cambodians would just as soon forget, and you'll have a hard time finding anyone from the younger generation who knows a whole lot about the history behind what happened. They all know their parents went through it, but many of them haven't been told specific stories and don't know the full story behind the regime's rise and fall. The attitude seems to be, 'let's not dwell on the past, let's just look ahead.'

The next day I rented a bike and visited the Phnom Penh Post, one of the city's two English-language newspapers. I spent an hour or so talking up the editor about what the Post does and how it works. Despite having almost 50 editorial employees, the Post only distributed a few thousand copies (including Khmer and English editions) daily. It used to be a twice weekly paper, and only went daily a couple of years ago. Despite the hard economy and Cambodia's low literacy rate, which makes selling newspapers more difficult, the Post Company has launched several new ventures recently and the editor seemed optimistic about where it's going.

After Phnom Penh, I took the long bus ride north to Kratie, which was really nothing special. It's home to a rare breed of freshwater dolphins, but I didn't see any of them during my river excursion there. That's really Kratie's only draw, so the next day I hitched the bus to Battambang, which turned out to be the bus from hell.

First, the minibus forgot to pick me up, so I waited another six hours before being crammed into an overcrowded bus, where I spent the first part of the ride sitting on a plastic lawn chair in the aisle. Finally, someone got off and I was crammed into a seat next to a mother and her child who began throwing up about a half hour later. Their seat pouch was filled with food they'd bought at the last rest stop, so they put the bag of puke in my pouch. About halfway through the eight hour ride, I finally got to move to another seat, where I stayed the rest of the ride. All the while, the bus was breaking down periodically. The air con was broken, so we rode with the windows open, sending red dust into the bus. Needless to say, I was relieved just to arrive in Kratie, and I jumped at the first tuk tuk driver who offered me a hotel room. The place turned out to be fine, and another guy who had been on my bus was staying there, so we agreed to join forces and arrange some trekking the next day.

Battambang is overlooked by most travelers in Cambodia, but it was my favorite place. It's true countryside and the people there obviously aren't used to tourists. Walk one mile in any direction from the city center, and you''re on a narrow dirt road lined with jungle and the occasional farm. Usually, you share the road with more cows and chicken than motorbikes.

A local told me it would be unwise to try my hand at motobike driving on Battambang's sandy roads, so I rented a bicycle and headed for a waterfall a few kilometers outside town. What was supposed to be a 30 minute bike ride took more than an hour, but the view along the way was worth the strain of pedaling my too-small bike through sand, bumps and potholes. Even in the dry season, Battambang has some stunning scenery. If you get up high enough on any hill, you're greeted with miles and miles of jungle mountains. The air is thick with the almost sickeningly sweet smell of cashew fruit, which is currently in season. The locals don't harvest the fruit (preferring to let it fall to the ground, then come later and pick up the nuts) so it's fair game to walk along and just pluck them from the trees whenever you please.

The entire ride to the falls, I had an entourage of Cambodian children who, unused to seeing a white person in their midst, chanted "Hello, hello, hello!" nonstop until I rode out of sight. The waterfall was impressive, but I kept imagining what it would look like in the wet season, when the water rushes through with at least double the force. On the ride back home, I stopped at the Battambang temple. It was closed and I was greeted by the barks of a stray dog when I opened a door, so I gave up on the visit. But just as I was leaving, an old woman walked up and gestured for me to come with her. She shooed the dog (I felt like a chump) and with my help, opened up the temple, placed a prayer mat on the floor, and invited me to meditate with her. Then, she took a krama and swept the floor while I browsed the murals on the walls. She didn't speak a word of English, but we communicated through gesturing. It was pretty cool.

The next day, my bus ride from hell companion, Steve, and I joined a French couple, Marilyn and Silva, on a three day trek/ tour through the nearby jungle. The first day, we took motos to a minority village where our guide met us and brought us a few kilometers into the jungle. There were many lush, beautiful areas (as lush as can be expected in the dry season) but a lot of it has been deforested.

Although several minority Cambodian tribes live in this jungle, the Cambodian government has sold much of the land to Chinese logging firms. The tribes are migratory and have no concept of "owning" the land. Therefore, they have virtually no say in the business transaction, and they get none of the monetary kickback from the deal, either. The loggers are only after the hardwoods, and they leave most of the softer woods other jungle plants intact, but without the protection and stored water of the teak trees, the other trees can't survive the dry season. Within about five years, the area is completely barren. Right now, there's still enough jungle to make the trek worthwhile, but within a couple of years it will be a different story. As a result, the minority people who now farm for subsistence and have no use for money will probably have to join Khmer society, adopt modern farming techniques and a money-oriented economy.

After several hours of trekking in barely tolerable heat, we made camp at a river pool. We set up our hammocks and mosquito nets, then spent the end of the afternoon swinging from vines into the river while Po, our guide, cooked us a barbecue. Once the sun goes down, there's not much to do, so after a small party (Cambodian minorities also like their rice whiskey. The only difference: theirs is distilled, while Vietnamese prefer fermentation) we were in bed early.

The next day we trekked back to the village and took motos another 20 kilometers north to a minority Lao village where we did a night's homestay with a local family. Here again, we were followed by droves of children who hadn't seen foreigners before. The smallest of them even cried when they saw Steve, a huge, red-haired Brit. We joined them in bathing in the Tonle San river, then ate dinner with two of the family's sons. One of them was getting married--a three-day event in Buddhist Lao culture--so the family was very busy with the preparations. We spent the evening playing cards and watching Lao karaoke videos with the family.

The next morning the house was packed with the village elderly who had come to give their blessings upon the new marriage, so we headed to the nearby town of Voen Sai for breakfast to keep out of their way. We then took a long tailed boat up the Tonle San to a minority village that has a unique way of burial. The cemetery was less impressive than I expected--just a few graves with wooden effigies of the deceased--but the boat ride up and down the river kept it from being a total disappointment. I'll post some photos.

The next day, I made my third border crossing, taking the bus into Laos and the Mekong paradise of Si Phan Don, or 4,000 Islands. It's an archipelago of islands on the Mekong just north of the border, and it's the sleepiest, most laid-back place on earth. I chose to stay on Don Det, the smallest of the three big islands. I shared a bungalo with Mel, a fellow American I'd met on the bus across the border. For $4 per night, we got our own bungalow overlooking the island's sunset side. The beds were hard, but the living was easy. I spent two days lounging in the hammock or at the beach, and doing little else. A bike ride around Don Det and nearby Don Khon and a few excursions to eat or go to the bar are literally the only activities I accomplished. A case of mild food poisoning couldn't even stop me from loving this place. It was hard to leave, but I've got to be to Bangkok by March 28, so I managed to tear myself away.

Today, I'm in the capitol city of Vientiane. I'll stay here tonight, then probably head tomorrow for Vang Vieng, Lao's hedonist city with the famed river tubing trip, as well as mountains and caves to explore. Should keep me busy for a few days.

Fried grasshopper, anyone? Or maybe you prefer the beetle...

My friend from the hilltop temple in Battambang.

This is what you see when you drive a few kilometers outside Battambang. Notice the roadside trees covered in dust.

Riding with the locals. Several people (more behind us) crammed atop a pickup along with tons of supplies.

Channeling my inner tarzan.

A cell phone-wielding effigy in the tempouin cemetery. The local people make periodic cow sacrifices at the grave until a family member dreams that the deceased has gone to the spirit world.

Our entourage in the Lao minority village. One of them had a sling shot, so we had some fun competing to knock a sandal off a log. The one on the far left, hiding behind the pillar, was my favorite.