Thieves in the temple (Kampong Cham, Siem Reap, Angkor Thom, Cambodia)

We were awake at 5:30am, dear reader. Our bags were outside our stateroom before the appointed hour and we were seated at breakfast shortly after 6:15. Breakfast was the usual affair, although we had been warned by our tour guide not to imbibe too much coffee or tea because of the long bus trip ahead. (He was concerned about incontinence amongst his charges). Service was perhaps a little slow. I think they were focussed on the arriving crowd rather than the departing group.

I discovered something else last night, dear reader. There is a coffee machine on our level. A real one with beans that need to be ground. The working class boy inside of me eschewed the concept of our “butler” providing us with a morning coffee and now it was time to regret. We could have been having proper coffee every morning. Ah well.

Everyone assembled in the lounge at 7:40 for the final disembarkation from the Mekong Serenity. We were back in our three colour groups, one specially modified bus (allegedly) per group. Apparently, a number of seats had been removed to provide more space to stretch your legs. It is, after all, a 5 and a half hour bus trip to Siem Reap.

The seats were certainly larger than usual, think Business Class on a plane plus they had a foot rest and could also decline. I was more interested in sitting my seat up straighter and tried to adjust the seat back. The end result was my seat reclined into the lap of the person behind me. All much to Jayne’s amusement. “Oh, Liz, you could give Brad a head massage while we drive along!” she managed to get out between fits of laughter.

Seat re-positioned, I extracted the computer from my pack and began editing photos and catching up the blog.

We stopped after an hour for people to use the “happy room”. They are unable to say toilet over here. Maybe it’s an APT thing. The toilets were quite visible, to the amusement of some. The urinals may as well have been on the driveway for all the privacy they offered. The women’s toilets were more secluded and, hanging on a hook by the mirror, was a grimy green comb, presumably for anyone to neaten up their hair before resuming their journey.

Back on the bus, I had just settled into writing the blog and the announcement was made that we were stopping again. I swear we hadn’t been driving for more than 20 minutes. Anyway, we stopped at Preypors River. Actually, it’s more of a lake, which apparently never dries up and is obviously a major stop for APT tour buses. 

This was not a mat.

The complex consists of a restaurant, takeaway fast food and a souvenir shop full of weird toys, packets of strange food, along with clothing and other keepsakes that we have seen in countless markets along the trip.

The "special" view. Not so special. A lake, not a river.

The takeaway was doing a roaring trade, especially in ice creams, but they actually had a real coffee machine and the temptation to try a decent coffee, after several weeks of disappointment, became overwhelming. An espresso was ordered and, while it was delivered in a paper cup, joyously it contained the best coffee since leaving Australia!

Barbequed salted fish, anyone?

While I luxuriated in sipping this liquid gold, we wandered out the back to the restaurant on the lake to sit and take in the view. The lakeview, however, was hard to focus upon since, hanging all the way along the edge of the roof, was a series of clear plastic bags, tied up by string and each showcasing liquid of varying colours: red, green, yellow. A couple had presumably suffered a rupture and were flapping emptily in the light breeze. But the rest glinted in the sunlight, dancing and posing the question, “Why?” No answer was forthcoming and so we re-boarded the bus, bound for one more detour before our intended destination, Siem Reap.

Just weird.

The bus rolled into the carpark of a large complex, 5 minutes from our hotel, so that we could all obtain a temple pass that would be used over the next two days to allow us to enter the precinct for which Siem Reap is world renowned. These passes are mandatory and their pre-purchase expedites the entry of large groups of people into the UNESCO listed 401 square kms parcel of land that houses many temples. This site would be where we would be spending the majority of our time over the final days of the APT tour. Perhaps it should be renamed an AFT tour. Come on dear reader, use your imagination, you can work it out.

Our temple pass, valid for three days over the next week, comes resplendent with our photos. The process of getting our photos taken and having the passes in our hands was remarkably efficient. However, the photos. Oh my! The camera must have been “made in China” a line which is a local joke. My likeness bears a stronger resemblance to Barnaby Joyce than it does me. On second thought, I’m not even certain the beetrooter could go that red in the face.

We later learned that these passes also provide a donation of $2 per pass towards the provision of a free children's hospital and maternity unit for the local community - a precious resource in this developing country.

The welcome at the hotel.

We arrived at the Sofitel in Siem Reap to collect our room key and have a quick light lunch. Then it was straight to our room where our bags were waiting at the door. My Accor membership paid dividends once again and we had been upgraded. Our suite comes with a sitting room and a bowl of fresh fruit.

Almost more space than at home.

Then it was back to foyer to board our buses for Angkor Thom which translates as ‘great city’. The temple passes were clipped at a checkpoint and then we were required to change from the big bus to a Toyota Coaster. They limit the size of the vehicles in particular areas of the park to minimise vibration and to fit through narrow ancient stone entry points. The first stop was the Bayon Temple, also known as the temple of the faces for reasons that are obvious when you see the photos.

The money shot.

The whole area is surrounded by a moat that is 100 metres wide and access was across a narrow bridge and through a gate in the wall. The bridge was adorned with statues of the heads of gods on one side and demons on the other. We scheduled a photo opportunity on the return journey.

Watching out of the corner of his eye.

Ever feel like you're being watched?

Our guide, Reaksmey, was brilliant and he steered us away from the big crowds to the best vantage points. It really is a special place and I was constantly imagining how the temples and other structures originally looked. From Bayon, we visited the Terrace of the Elephants, a long, elevated platform with an edifice of elephants on both sides where the king would watch parades and games of polo. No really, polo. The grassed area directly in front of the relief was extremely boggy and I didn't have the big telephoto lense.

The wall of elephants.

In discussing our experiences later that evening, it became apparent that we really did win the tour guide lottery. People from the other two groups didn’t get to see some of the things we saw, or indeed do some of things we did. We were the only group to climb the steps to the king’s platform.

The climb up to the King's platform.

Looking down on the peasants. Well peasant.

We retraced our route and stopped briefly on the other side of the bridge where it began to rain. How refreshing. I was unconcerned because I couldn't get any wetter than I was already.

All in a row.

A close up of a god.

We drove to our original bus and returned to the hotel to remove our dripping wet (perspiration, not precipitation) clothes and prepare for dinner. The afternoon temperature had reached over 30° and the humidity was over 75%. Combine that with the distance walked and the fact that some areas lacked any breeze and it made us all pretty moist. Not in a good way.

One of the garden ponds at the hotel.

Dinner was a “freedom of choice” affair and a number from our original entourage chose to dine at Malis. The food was very good but the entrée serves were ridiculously large. The bowl of noodles we were individually served, could have fed 2 or 3 people. At another table that was not part of our group, the same meal was served and it was half the size. None of us consumed the entire dish because we wanted to be able to eat the main. Service was slow and inconsistent and, overall, the night was not a brilliant success.

The tuk tuk drivers that earlier had delivered us to the restaurant, waited outside to return us safely to the Sofitel hotel. We were driven home via Pub Street. This is the place where it all happens. Apparently. It was loud and neon lit at the entrance: not really my style. Perhaps I’ll check it out during the day.

Back at the hotel it was strictly time for bed. We have a 4:15am wake-up call tomorrow to see the day dawn over Angkor Wat.

Although we didn't see any thieves in the temple, I'm sure they preceded us by many years. The British Museum would have been among them as they "acquired" exhibits. Anyway, this is a classic by Prince. Enjoy.

Until next time.

Evergreen (The Mekong River, Tan Chau, Vietnam)

The routine is established. Breakfast at 7am. Leave the ship by 8:30am. You must be wondering by now, dear reader, why I haven’t mentioned coffee. My excitement over the Nespresso machine at the Park Hyatt in Saigon was not carried forward. Coffee at breakfast is served in one of those pots that belongs to a drip filter machine … from the 1980s. APT gets so much right and then the coffee faux pas. I suppose you’re right, my astute reader, not everyone is a coffee snob like me. Perhaps they should be and then I would not be suffering through breakfast, drinking tea.

Breakfast has all the usual offerings: local food, typical continental buffet, cereals, pastries, toast, fruit and a plethora of egg dishes. Given the over-feeding, I keep my breakfast simple, muesli, pastries, fresh fruit and tea.

Everything happens on the river.

Today’s activity takes us to an island that was once the sight of a Vietnamese killing field. They have since re-named it Evergreen Island to assist in removing the sad memories. Unlike other parts of the world we have visited, the Asian culture is about moving on and not dwelling on the past.

Working together.

It was a 15 minute boat ride down some tributaries to get to Evergreen Island. And Evergreen is a fairly obvious choice for today's title by the brilliant Barbra Streisand

My choice of seat was unfortunate and I spent my time trying to shield myself and the camera from water splashing over the bow. Our guide, Thinh, pointed out the specialist fishing boats that trawl, with their triangular nets, close to the shore. They catch the fingerlings that are used to make fish sauce, a staple of Vietnamese life.

Catching the lifeblood of the nation.

Further down the river and into a tributary, we passed floating villages, barges, too many fish traps to count, and numerous farms before we reached our destination. There was a fisherman, using electricity to electrocute the fish. It's an easy, if not illegal and dangerous way to catch them. It was hot and extremely humid again as we wandered down the tree lined lane, observing how the local farmers live their lives. On the way we met a 92 year old lady, working by the side of the lane.

Electrocuting the fish.

As if by magic, one of the local farmers had returned from the fields early and we were invited in to hear his story. He was in his 70s and one of 13 children. Originally, he fought with the South Vietnamese army until he was wounded. He then moved down to Evergreen to get away from the fighting. Good in theory. The VC arrived after a while and he was ‘encouraged’ to join them. In essence he fought for both sides – a guaranteed winner.

Fish traps.

We were then invited to walk through his house. I passed on this because it felt a little voyeuristic. The undercroft of the house had a clearance of over 2 metres. The last time it was rebuilt, after a fire, they raised it another 30 cm above the highest flood line. The backyard contained a couple of cows, chickens and some vegies.

The meander through the village continued as we wound our way back to the tributary where our sampan was moored. The main game was to avoid being in the direct sun. The heat and humidity were problematic. We motored down the creek, back to the main river and moored there. There was a little walk in front of us, through another area of Tan Chau which proved more challenging than it should have been because of the heat. There was also no air movement to speak of. The main industry here was weaving mats.

Drying the dyed reeds.

The factory was also stifling. There were two looms in operation and the female workers were threading individual fibres into the machine. The mats were patterned, rather than being all the one colour. Only skilled operators scored this role because they needed to remember the exact colour to slide into the loom. And it happened quickly.

You need to think quickly.

On the other side of the factory was a lone woman. sitting in front of a fire. A fire! In 35° heat with 70% humidity. She was constantly feeding the fire to keep the trough of water boiling as the fibres were being steamed. Clearly, she drew the short straw. The final station was where the edging was sewn onto the matting. This was away from the noise and the heat of the main factory.

I start sweating just looking at this picture.

It was then gift shop time. Again, they sold the ‘slaps’ of my teen years. You remember, dear reader, those thongs made using rattan with velvet straps. Much kinder to your feet than thongs. I didn’t purchase any because they didn’t have my colour – green was the colour back in the day.

Fortunately, we didn’t have to walk far to the next destination. It was down the lane way to the main road where many, many cyclos were waiting. Think rickshaw, but with a bicycle at the front to expedite movement. They are more solid than they appear and can be challenging to alight from or to get into for that matter.

The silk factory.

We were transported to a silk factory. I was extremely doubtful about this. It was a factory with 90 looms. Not a mulberry tree or silk worm in sight. Typical though, isn’t it? The capitalists always forget the worker worms and yet, without them, they would be nothing.

Loading rice.

There were two looms in a demonstration area where we were shown reels of silk and it was explained how the patterns are created in the material. They actually have the weave pattern imprinted on a paper scroll that looks like the roll on a pianola. It runs through the loom, directing the pattern to be woven into the silk material.

We were led through the house of the owner. Weird. There was an alternate way to the factory so I’m not sure what that was about or even why it was necessary. The noise of half a dozen of the looms in the factory was deafening and I can’t image the cacophony if they were all in operation. Industrial deafness is a thing. They actually said they do not wear any ear protection because they have to be able to hear the looms in operation, in case a thread breaks or something else happens that requires them to stop the loom, mid-weave.

A curry plant.

After a visit to the ubiquitous gift shop it was back into a cyclo and on to the ship.

After lunch, Long, our Cruise Director, gave a talk on Vietnam and covered some of the topics that you won’t find in the history books. It was often a very personal perspective from someone who had been a ‘boat person’ and was forcibly returned to Vietnam. Amazingly resilient people whose country has been constantly invaded/colonised and yet they keep smiling.

Brush for fencing.

That afternoon, we set sail for the border between Cambodia and Vietnam. The visa process was completed for us on board the Serenity. They already had our passports. It was a smooth transition that did not involve us directly.

Prior to dinner, I went for a complimentary massage. It was deep tissue, allegedly. It was good and she knew what she was doing but it wasn’t deep tissue like I have at home. Not that that is a bad thing.

You don’t really need to read about dinner. It was superb, as you might expect. We eschewed the entertainment as it was a movie about Pol Pot and we headed for bed as the Serenity continued down the Mekong toward Phnom Penh.

Until next time.