Mariannie’s Martini Tour: shaken, not stirred

Marianne and I enlisted Mr T as our tuk-tuk driver and headed out of town on the road to Tonle Sap, the biggest fresh-water lake in South East Asia … but that wasn’t our destination. We were headed for Phnom Krom, the small hill near the entrance to the Tonle Sap boat tours and a significant local landmark, being the only hill for miles around.

We stopped at the bottom of a stairway leading up the hill and left Mr T to wait for us there. The steps were steep but my Peruvian-high-altitude lungs are still easing my climbing ability and, in an area with no other hills, it was nice to have views. The handrail was lined with engravings in Khmer and English text, with dollar figures next to them, as if people had donated money to fund the steps.

At the top we came out on a roadway leading to the top of the hill, still some way off. We hadn’t gone far before we came to a group of men, talking and playing cards in the shelter of a small open-sided hut. One, in a blue uniform, approached us, asking to see our temple passes (passes for the Angkor Park complex). We hadn’t been sure if we would need them or not, so pleaded ignorance and showed our volunteer IDs. The man agreed to let us in if we paid him a small bribe of $5. Though we were ethically opposed to this, it was better than paying $20 each for the temple pass and we didn’t want to waste our journey, so we paid.

We carried on up the road and were soon sweating copiously, while the man was probably gambling away our $5. At the top of the phnom (hill) there’s a modern pagoda complex and a remnant from the days of Angkor civilisation. The ancient complex was dedicated to the Hindu religion and constructed in the late 9th – early 10th century by King Yasovarman I in the Bakheng style. The three towers, dedicated to Shiva, Vishnu and Brahma, are now in very poor condition, the stone is much weathered and any sculptural details barely visible. Yet, as we wandered around them, we found ourselves surrounded by butterflies and able to enjoy the stunning views, difficult to capture on camera because of the hazy atmosphere.

The modern pagoda was interesting, too. There were statues of various characters from Buddhist myths, two huge white bulls guarding the entrance on one side, and human-like creatures with claw feet on another. The temple itself was full of the usual multitude of Buddhas large and small, small flags of recycled fabric strung across the ceiling from one side to the other, and brightly painted scenes from Buddha’s life covered the walls and ceiling. Outside there was a larger-than-life character dressed a bit like an ancient Superman, as well as statues of monks kneeling in a square around a shrine.

We were barked at quite loudly by a vicious-sounding dog, then, soon after, hailed by one of the monks and summoned to the building where he was. I now wonder if the dog had been trained to announce visitors! Monks don’t usually speak to women so we should have been suspicious of his motives. After the preliminary greetings and exchange of names, it turned out that the monk was soliciting donations and, in return for a small sum, we would have our names painted on the wall with the donation amount alongside. We succumbed and paid $5 each. One day I’ll need to return to see if our names really are on that wall!

After perhaps an hour, we headed back down to our patient tuk-tuk driver and were soon off to our next stop, Wat Chedei. Our route took us on to a dirt road, past rice fields, through a cattle and then a water buffalo traffic jam, alongside pools of water lilies and lotuses, past small farms and the occasional larger house painted in some garish colour, then on to another dirt road. This one was in very poor condition, with huge potholes, ruts and puddles – they call these dancing roads in Cambodia. It had rained the previous night which had helped to settle the dust but fuelled the puddles. “Mango rain’ one of our guesthouse security guards called it – rain to help fatten the mangos which are now fattening on the trees, ready to be harvested in April. Luckily we didn’t get stuck in the mud.

Eventually, after much dancing and shaking about, we reached Wat Chedei, in the middle of nowhere. Again there was a collection of buildings old and new. One, a former pagoda, was an almost total wreck – no roof, no windows or doors, grass growing on the floor, and a corrugated iron, makeshift roof over the Buddhas that looked incongruous in that setting. Things we saw: Aunty Betty’s red and pink café curtains hanging in the windows of the new temple; a gaggle of geese squawking at and chasing one of the flock; three long dragon-boats in a shed – bizarre when the only nearby water was a large lily-choked baray (reservoir); two lots of two kittens with very large ears and plaintive cries; two painted elephants guarding the main entrance, and red-and-green-painted temple dogs guarding another; a horrific mural that looked like the Buddhist version of hell; and no monks!

I posed on Mr T.’s tuk tuk before we left and, as we jiggled violently about on the road back to town, we decided we could open a tour company with me as driver – hence, Mariannie’s Martini Tours: shaken not stirred! The real martinis came later!

Shaken ... and stirred

This blog is way behind ‘cause I have been too busy doing things to write about them – always a good excuse – so now that I’m home I need to catch up.

First, what better way to spend the first day of a new year than tuk tuking my way around three magnificent temples, with Vibol as our delightful driver, in the jolly company of Marianne, one of her sponsored young men Tola, and fellow volunteer Wen Sung.

Bantay Srei, which means ‘Citadel of the Women’, came first. It’s quite a small Hindu temple complex and has exquisite, well-preserved carvings in a pinkish-coloured stone. Its name, as well as the delicate and intricate nature of the sculptural work, has led archaeologists to speculate that the carving was, in fact, done by women. Almost every inch of the temple buildings is covered with amazing carvings so it is one of the most popular temples with tourists.

We had hoped that by arriving early on New Year’s Day we would avoid the crowds, but no such luck. There were Koreans and Japanese by the coach load, as well as a horde of other nationalities who obviously hadn’t partied in Pub Street till the wee hours. There was even a monk amongst those jostling for the best photo positions, so I couldn’t resist taking his photo. 

Over the chatter of tour groups of mostly Asian tourists, we could hear Khmer music and gratefully followed the sound to escape the crowds. Tucked away across the water-filled moat and behind the wall that encloses the temple, a band of landmine victims turned musicians were playing their haunting tunes so we sat beneath a shady tree and listened to a couple of songs. Bands of men and women like these can be found at many of the tourist sites and in Pub Street. Their injuries range from missing limbs to blindness, but music is one way they can earn a small living. We each bought a copy of their CD and I have the music playing as I write this – it evokes memories of that day, and others.

 

 

 

 

 On the way to our next temple, we stopped for a photo opportunity of a water buffalo tethered at the side of the road. These are large beasts, frequently seen in the fields and rivers of Cambodia, but they appear quite placid, often being led along by the string through their noses by the smallest of children.

Mid-10^th century Pre Rup was next. It’s a pyramid-shaped temple mountain, with interesting towers and gopuras (entrance pavilions) at each of the three levels and stone lions guarding the sides of the staircases. Since my ankle-breaking stairway experience in Turkey a couple of years back, I’ve been very wary of steep steps, so I didn’t climb up. Instead I wandered round the lower enclosure, enjoying a few moments of solitude. It’s difficult to be alone in these places for long though, and I was soon exchanging one dollar for 10 postcards. I eventually couldn’t resist the downcast look of the little girl when I kept insisting that I didn’t want any!

Pre Rup means ‘Turning the Body’ and Tola translated for us a sign whose message predicted that visitors exited the temple looking younger than when they entered. The magic didn’t work for me! My guide book says the name refers to a traditional method of cremation, so maybe the message had more to do with reincarnation – you exit in a newer, younger body than the one in which you were carried in.

During the hottest hour of the day we enjoyed a delicious lunch at a local restaurant catering specifically for the tourists, where Vibol’s commission for bringing us was a free lunch. More fresh, uncooked spring rolls! I wish we could get these at home – the thinnest of rice-based membranes wrapped full of crunchy vegetables and a little cooked chicken. Mmmmmm!

Our third temple of the day – and for me, the best – was Preah Khan. It is a large, eminently explore-able, late-12^th-century complex, which may have been a Buddhist university. There are long galleries and small shrines throughout, with good apsara and lintel carvings, and an unusual two-storey section. With relatively few tourists, it was a delight to wander through the passageways. As we left, we indulged in a little more shopping, this time a temple rubbing each – an enduring memory of another wonderful day exploring the temples of Angkor. And, as temple exploration is hot, thirsty work, we enjoyed a refreshingly cold beer at a small stall opposite the entrance before leaving. As the late afternoon light is softer on the stones, we also stopped for brief photo shoots at Bayon and Angkor Wat during the return journey to our guest house.

Saturday was a superb way to start 2011, and Sunday continued the trend. Marianne and I went tuk tuking with Vibol again, this time to Kompong Phluk, a lake-side village built on stilts. During the wet season, from mid-May to early October, Tonle Sap lake’s area increases from 2500 to 13,000 sq km or more, so the stilts of the houses are between 6 and 7 metres high to cope with the hugely fluctuating water levels. It looks quite surreal!

Vibol joined us for the boat trip – his first time on a boat! – which was interesting to say the least. First, we had to walk along a very unstable-looking plank and scramble across the bows of two other boats to reach ours. Then, before we’d gone very far, our boat broke down and we drifted onto a sand bank. We were entertained by the children of a family who had set up temporary shelter on a bridge, while Vibol helped the driver fix the engine – most engines here are simple affairs and those who operate them must be mechanically minded – no calling the AA in Cambodia! They had no sooner got the engine going again than the row boat we had been towing came loose and we had to stop while our boatman waded through the shallow waters to retrieve it.

Ten minutes later we reached the village, still mostly flooded at this time of year, and chugged around between the houses. It felt very voyeuristic, peering so openly at the people going about their everyday lives, but the locals are used to it and at least some revenue from the fee we tourists pay for the journey goes to the local community. Not unexpectedly given the location, village life revolves around fishing; men and women were everywhere repairing nets and sorting the morning’s catch. Daily life is mostly water-based as well: pigs are kept in small floating sties; a greengrocer floats by in a canoe laden with fruit and vegetables; and three women haggle over the price of a woolly hat with another canoe-based saleslady.

We stopped briefly to walk along the only dry road in the village, but were instantly assaulted by people trying to sell us things, and by the midday heat, so escaped fairly quickly back to the relative peace of our boat – a loudly chugging boat motor is not very peaceful on the ears! I did, however, get a great shot of a chicken having a dust bath on the road.

Our boatman took us past the submerged forests at the lake’s edge and then out onto the lake itself, the largest in South East Asia and more like an inland sea. For a short while he turned off the engine and we enjoyed the tranquillity of bobbing about on the water. But, the quietness was short-lived and we were soon retracing our journey through the village and back to our starting point, before enjoying being shaken about again on the pot-holed red dirt access road in our tuk tuk. To paraphrase the famous James Bond’s catch phrase, it had been a weekend of experiences that had both shaken (the body) and stirred (the spirit).