Hong Kong

Thank God we didn’t have to stay at Ho Chi Minh airport overnight - 5 hours there was quite enough. At least Harley loves watching planes and we were able to sneak our Duty Free gin into the frighteningly expensive tonic at the airport restaurant. 3 months in SE Asia really had made the transition back to ‘civilisation’ rather painful at least financially.

Talking about entering a different world as we took our HK taxi through a maze of skyscrapers, rather than a muddle of bamboo huts, towards the Disney owned Hollywood hotel. No we haven’t gone prematurely senile – this was a planned Christmas present to Ruby and Harley for being such good travellers. Ruby was so excited that she was still up as we arrived after midnight only to be greeted by Mickey Mouse windows and shower curtains. Oh my God what have we done….

The next morning the suspense was killing the kids as we took the free shuttle emblazoned with cartoon characters to Hong Kong Disney itself. I was close to killing myself having regretted the ‘2 days for the price of 1’ deal. I doubted I would make it to teatime of the first day. As it happened I was kept amused by the hoards of Asian unaccompanied adults queuing up to meet and greet Goofy and Cinderella amongst others ‘in person’. They were trying to queue barge the ‘Adventures of Pooh’ bumpy cart ride (somewhat psychedelic in the ‘woozle dream’ section) and were very excited by the Tarzan river raft that floated past several fearsome plastic beasts. In the UK I’m sure there would have been accusations of paedophilia but these adults were simply enthralled by the magic of Disney. I suppose if you had been fully exposed as a kid to the Pol Pot regime rather than the Disney channel you deserved to enjoy a bit of childish fantasy later in life. To be fair adults were catered to a bit with a pitch black top speed roller coaster called Space Mountain, a Disney version of the Oscars during which an incredibly well honed Tarzan almost lost his loincloth by pouncing rather too close to Karen and a half decent firework display. The kids were so excited they talked about it for weeks (Disneyland not Tarzan’s loincloth) but 2 days of being offered Mickey Mouse shaped toast for breakfast was enough for us and we headed off to Kowloon the remaining 2 days in Hong Kong.
I went straight out to meet a client at a hotel they were using to house the rowing competitors for the Beijing 2008 Olympics and we sculled a delicious bottle of wine made all the more pleasant due to the relative drought of Fine Wine in Indochina. We agreed to meet up ‘en famille’ the following evening at a spectacular top floor Japanese restaurant called Aqua. We made our way there indirectly by metro to Central, Shanks’ pony through the beautiful botanical gardens, peak tram up 45 degree slopes to the highest point in Hong Kong (just about level with the tallest 100 storey + skyscraper), bus through town and finally ferry at sunset back across to Kowloon. The food was truly delicious and after we had the added bonus of a laser show. From the 26th floor the famous backdrop of Hong Kong Island lit up and flashing with multicoloured fluorescence was spectacular as was the flooding of the bathroom complete with sewage on our return. Anyway we got free transport to the airport on the back of it the following afternoon and left in good spirits for Perth and the vastness of Australia….

The Temples of Angkor

Angkor Wat is truly imposing and the main reason why many come to Cambodia. It is widely believed to be the largest religious structure in the world and was built in the 12th Century as a funerary temple for Suryavarman ІІ. To give an idea of scale, the surrounding moat is 1.3km wide and 1.5 km long! Seven headed Nagas or serpents line the approach over the moat symbolising a bridge to the land of the gods. The temple was built in honour of the Hindu god Vishnu who can be found near the entrance with all 8 arms still intact. Around the central structure of 9 domed towers (including the central one that rises to a giddy 55m) is an 800m rectangular wall completely covered with intricate well-preserved bas-reliefs. These stone carvings describe bloody earthly battles as well as heavenly events. One section describes Heaven and Hell. Yama the judge of the dead sits on his bull showing the lucky ones the road up to the 37 heavens where they dwell in luxury. The less fortunate are pushed through a trapdoor by Yama’s assistants to the 32 hells which are depicted in wonderfully gruesome detail. Another wall depicts the fabulous story of the churning of the milk where 88 grim faced asura or devils have a tug of war with 92 gods both pulling on a giant serpent causing the sea to churn up and create the elixir of immortality. Apsaras or heavenly nymphs float above some say putting off the hot- blooded devils leading to victory for the gods. (We later check out the free Apsara dancing to see these beauties in the flesh as it were…).

Our next stop is the Bayon inside the fortified city of Angkor Thom. The south gate of the city has beautifully restored massive stone heads of gods and demons lining the road. This is a taste of things to come at Bayon itself with its 216 gigantic smiling faces each carved from 20 or so huge stone blocks. Some say this was all a bit of an ego trip for the famous Jayarvarman V ІІ as all the faces bear an uncanny resemblance to this legendary king. Others say it was a clever demonstration of his power with the faces looking in different directions symbolising Jayarvarman keeping an eye or all his subjects. Whatever the truth this temple is much less intricate than Angkor Wat but has its own personality and grandeur as well as interesting and rare glimpses of contemporary Cambodian life on its own extensive bas-reliefs.

After a quick lunch break overlooking the self-explanatory terrace of the elephants we were taken to our final temple Ta Prohm of Tomb Raider fame. In spite of Angelina’s absence the whole place was hauntingly beautiful. Unlike Angkor Wat and Bayon that have both been lovingly restored, Ta Prohm has been left to look pretty much as it was when rediscovered by European explorers ie wild and rugged. So much so that many walls have collapsed and others are actually held together by the root systems of giant trees some of which rise up majestically 100m or more. The whole place is shady and green having been almost reclaimed by the jungle thus epitomising the inevitable collapse of the Ancient Khmer empire following its previously inexorable rise. WOW pretty impressive stuff and all neatly packaged into a four hour chunk which the kids managed wonderfully well.

The next day we headed to the airport bound for Hong Kong via Ho Chi Minh and took the scenic route bidding farewell to Angkor Wat ‘en route’ just as we pulled in I realised I had left our passports in the hotel safe so we took the speedier road back to the hotel and managed to outpace an ambulance on the return leg. We rushed to the check-in just in time only to be advised that in spite of previous assurances we would be unable to leave the airport in Ho Chi Minh to get to our paid hotel room and would have to spend the night on the airport floor. Luckily we were able to change our flights FOC and headed back to ‘Villa Loti’ once again to their great surprise. The slogan of the Cambodian tourist information booklets (as well as those in Laos and Vietnam) was ‘Stay another Day’ and we had taken it literally yet again.

The next day everything went more smoothly and we boarded the plane without a hitch. I was feeling a little sad to be leaving Indochina with its charming friendly people, beautiful sights and wonderfully cheap cost of living but it was time to move on. The sadness was tempered with excitement that we were heading for Hong Kong, our gateway to Australia and New Zealand and some would say back to civilisation. Yet we had discovered over the past 3 months that the whole sub-continent was civilised and brimming with culture: the next 6 months would simply be a more western style of living with its inherent advantages and disadvantages

Siem Reap

We were lucky to get here at all having been ripped off by our hotel receptionist who booked us onto a ‘luxury’ coach that was more cattle class than first class. I felt we would be fortunate to make it across the bridge over the Mekong out of Phnom Penh let alone the 7 hours to Siem Reap. My fears were if not allayed then certainly side-tracked by some of the most extraordinarily loaded vehicles we passed along the way. Mopeds had up to six people on each but that was nothing compared to some of the cars and trucks. One saloon had sixteen people in including a child who appeared to be suspended above the tarmac until we passed and noticed her daredevil mother clinging on to her with one hand and the open boot with the other. As for small trucks you can squeeze about thirty in including belongings as long as you double stack by making full use of the roof.

It was then that I realised I’d got my dates wrong and that even if we did make it all the way on this piece of scrap metal we would have nowhere to stay during the busiest month of the year. Thankfully the Frenchman I had made the reservation with, although fully booked himself along with every other hotel in town, knew a compatriot restauranteur who had just started renting out a couple of rooms. Not only did we have a place to stay but also 20% off an excellent dinner in one of the top restaurants in town and to cap it all a free breakfast. The words ‘b*stard’ and ‘jammy’ sprang to mind and I made a mental note to leave all future bookings to Karen even if the owners were French.

Our initial impression of Siem Reap was of a disappointing dustbowl but that changed in the morning when we moved from the outskirts to Villa Loti next to the imaginatively named Siem Reap river. The land was more verdant and the whole place more vibrant with a hustle and bustle more befitting a former capital city. So it was in a more positive frame of mind that we made our way to the market for a spot of early Christmas shopping. Several bargains and a broken plastic chair later (clearly not designed for my ample girth) we left the maze of stalls. I remember browsing for a Lonely Planet Australia or New Zealand in a drawer of books hung round a local’s neck and feeling a bit guilty at not finding what I wanted. He had had both arms blown off above the elbows and had a massive scar the whole way across his chest presumably from one of the five million or so landmines left over from the Vietnam war (yes they bombed Cambodia and Laos too). He is one of about 40,000 to have been injured and that figure only includes those who are still alive. So much for the positive frame of mind.

There was nothing for it but a bit of R&R so I abandoned the family and hit the town. My first stop was a bar with a giant football screen where I witnessed Chelsea’s savage thrashing of West Ham (ok it was only 1-0 and yes the solitary strike did come from ex-Hammer Joe Cole but a win is a win). I ended up at a rooftop bar screening a psychedelic version of Jack and the Beanstalk, part of the little known Cambofest film festival and was the unworthy recipient of a souvenir T-shirt. I faithfully assured the festival organiser that the garment would be proudly displayed around the world before coming to rest at some of the more fashionable spots of Kensington and Chelsea. I don’t think he really cared but was merely happy to palm off his last extra large on someone suitable with such a paucity of candidates.

The relaxing lifestyle continued with day visits to two luxury pools at the Sofitel and Meridien hotels. The first one was $20 a head for over 6’s so in the rather grand shower I squelched on oodles of extraneous conditioner and body lotion as well as shampoo to get my money’s worth. The Meridien pool was not as huge but better designed with fountains and stepping stones the only slight annoyance being the bar staff trying to diddle us out of $15 (not again).

The final pampering ‘pièce de résistance’ was a four hands massage for the princely sum of 12000 Riel (3 US$). This hour of pleasurable pain culminated in me lying on my front while two of the hands lifted up both ankles, as if under starters orders for a Group1 wheelbarrow race, whilst the other two pummelled my shoulders. As if this wasn’t bad/good enough, the two northerly hands were joined by their knee counterparts in an agonising crawl up my spine, already at full stretch from hands one and two. Just as I was thinking this was worse than carting heavy luggage about, it all came to an abrupt stop and remarkably I felt no ill affects.

Hang on a minute – four days in Siem Reap without visiting the temples – the single biggest tourist attraction in Cambodia by miles. I had worked out that Anchor beer was far better than it’s confusing local homonym Angkor but hadn’t bothered to check out the famous temple of the same name. We had watched the free ‘apsara’ dancing but not studied their sandstone counterparts. We did a bit of research and booked a guide for the day for a whistlestop tour of 3 of the main temples Angkor Wat, Bayon and Ta Prohm.

Phnom Penh

Founded in 1372 by a wealthy Khmer Mrs Penh who found 4 buddha images in the river and built a monument to house them at the only hill (Phnom) in the area. The capital moved here from Angkor in the C15th at the fall of the ancient Khmer empire as it was more suited to trade being at the confluence of three rivers: Mekong, Bassac and Tonlé Sap. It was a strange blend of dirty dereliction, busy optimism and depressing history but the longer we stayed the more the place grew on me.

The most impressive building was surely the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda (although the 5000 solid silver floor tiles had sadly been carpeted over). Still impressive sights remained particularly a plethora of buddhas including a beautiful silver statue and an impressive 90kg golden one with 9548 diamonds – an exact copy of King Noradoms vital statistics.

More buddhas lay in wait at the National Museum of Cambodia in a specially dedicated room with clear instructions to remove shoes and not to touch. A security guard was in place to ensure correct protocol but as we were about to leave he popped out for his sandwiches and in that 2 minute window in marched a local woman who not only kept her shoes on but proceeded to kiss and cuddle all 100 buddhas in an increasingly agitated religious fervour. All rather bizarre.

We couldn’t put it off for ever so the next day we went for the double dose of death and depression with a visit to the Killing Fields (Choeung Ek) followed by the Museum of Genocide (Tuol Sleng). After a 30 minute tuk tuk out of town Choeung Ek could almost have been a peaceful country walk if it hadn’t been for the transparent memorial containing the remains of over 8000 victims of the Pol Pot regime. Sadly this was only the tip of the iceberg as over 2 million Cambodians were murdered or died between the Khmer Rouge takeover in 1975 and their final expulsion by Vietnamese troops in 1979. In other words the population of 7 million dropped by over a quarter in just 4 years. Our guide further added to the gloom by pointing out various human bones within the ground at our feet as well as bits of clothing from the victims. He showed us the tree against which women and children literally had their brains smashed out. They used pick axes for the men as they were heavier and more unwieldy and finished them off with chemicals poured into the mass graves.

Our day didn’t get any better at our next stop Tuol Sleng which was a converted High school that became S21 – the Khmer Rouge’s main torture and interrogation centre. Over 20000 were transported from here to Cheoung Ek but those that didn’t survive the torture were buried in the school grounds. The place was in the main less graphic than the War Remnants museum and the overwhelming sensation was eeriness rather than horror with room after room of a rundown school with the odd bed, bloodstain or artists impression of torture on the walls. A lot was left to the imagination until the last room where there were actual photos of the piles of bones during the human excavations at the Killing Fields. This put everything into grim perspective and I wondered how man could be so cruel to fellow man – particularly ones own countrymen. Compared to the thousands of murders only 7 people were found alive at Tuol Sleng in 1979 and these were mainly sculptors who were kept alive to create endless busts of Pol Pot. In addition 1 person out of 20000+ escaped. A comment in the visitors’ book by a young French girl seemed very apt: It is a lot easier to do something very bad than something very good. All very depressing but in a strange and selfish way heartening that our personal seemingly large problems in life are comparatively very trivial. We should stop whingeing about them and get on with enjoying our life – something that many never had the chance to.

On a more cheerful note we spent the last couple of days enjoying the Boat Racing Festival on Sisowath Quay from our bird’s eye views in the FCC (Foreign Correspondents Club) with delicious cocktails during happy hour for around £1.10 and in the upmarket tapas restaurant overlooking the finishing line. Even here death was never far away with several drowning in one boat due to a lack of safety boats and one of our fellow diners explaining how he was lucky to have been sent away to study in Australia in 1973 just before the Pol Pot era. On his return his father and all six brothers were dead or missing and only his mother remained who is still alive today hence his twice yearly visits from Oz.

Sihanoukville

This town was hacked out from the jungle in the 50’s to create the Las Vegas of Cambodia. It was named after the then Prince Sihanouk and frequented by the rich and famous (very few and far between hence its small size). Apparently 2 ½ hours from Kampot but we made it in 1 ¾ hours, despite the clapped out taxi, as the driver was on a mission. My brainwave was to stay at one of the casinos as the rooms are practically given away on the basis that they will recoup the money and more at the gaming tables. We stayed in a massive suite for less than £30 and I ended up in credit on both trips to the Black Jack table although it took me hours to make the princely sum of £20 on consecutive nights. The other bonus was a free shuttle bus that we took full advantage of to head to the various beaches: Serendipity was promising until we spotted the intermittent sewage channels; Independence was rugged but spoilt by construction work in progress, including the recently re-opened hotel of the same name where we took advantage of the excellent pool; Sokha was the best of all owned by the Sokha hotel group (Cambodia’s 8th largest company that interestingly gets 25% of all income from Cambodia’s largest tourist attraction of all by miles Angkor Wat). The beach was a beautiful crescent of pure white sand with excellent sheltered swimming and a fantastic lunch although at appropriate 5 star prices. The second time we took our own picnic but still managed to sneak in a bottle of delicious rosé which matched the views from the restaurant balcony. After a final dinner in the strangely themed restaurant ‘The Snake House’, where snakes live in the tables you eat from and you can pass ‘crocs’ in a pit on the way to the Gents, we left for the capital Phnom Penh.

Kampot

The guidebook précis was ‘charming riverside town’ and true enough Kampot did just enough to justify ‘town’ status with a population of 30,000 and it is true the poor b*stards were languishing at the side of the Kampong river. ‘Charming’ is stretching the point though with nothing to do but munch on the bloody good local pepper that is keenly sought out by the top French chefs. Apart from that it was dirty, smelly and hot with a sh*thole of a ‘top restaurant in town’ (the WC certainly was as well as being infested with mosquitoes so badly that I had to take Harley to the ladies which was just as bad but more interesting). After traipsing around in the heat with an increasingly disgruntled couple of kids we got back to our ‘charming’ hotel next to a building site and run by a scouser with a penchant for bloody sheets. Things improved slightly in the evening at the Kipling inspired Rikki Tikki Tavi restaurant with a good view of the sunset at a more scenic part of the river. Even here we were kept waiting for over an hour for average ‘tucker’ and were glad to be leaving in the morning.

Kep

This is a charming spa town established in 1908 as a retreat for the ruling French officers. Much was destroyed during the civil war leaving eerie colonial ruins with scattered durian trees (the fruit of which are unfeasibly large, testicular shaped and so stinky they are one of three banned items in many hotels along with firearms and explosives). Kep is also ‘chilli crab central’ which allowed me to indulge in several hours of crustacean cracking with scant but delicious reward for my labours. We spent two days in the ‘Beach House Hotel’ in what EM Forster may have described as ‘a room without a view’. Still there was a pool complete with jacuzzi, waterboatmen and large snake. We also met Moira and Joost who had just been to the Sihanoukville casino (our next stop but one) and scooped the $10,000 jackpot (30 years salary for the average Cambodian). They then spent the next week fearing for their safety desperately trying to get the money transferred back to native Holland. They were now celebrating the completion of the transfer and generously offered to lend us some cash that we could refund to their Dutch account at our leisure. All because the hotel didn’t accept visa and it was a 2 hour roundtrip to the nearest cashpoint. We politely declined and walked up to the plush La Veranda Resort that offered cashback on Visa and ended up staying there for the remaining two nights. This beautiful hotel was on the borders of a national park with raised wooden walkways and stunning views over the Gulf of Thailand. The rooms were basic but comfortable in harmony with the surroundings and even included a semi-open air shower and balcony for sunset. A wedding party had taken over the place the day before and we only got a room as one of the party had fallen ill and been airlifted to Bangkok for blood transfusions. It would be a bit harsh to call that serendipitous but we did enjoy our stay. The next day we went for a long coastal walk followed by 3 random Cambodian children aged no more than 5 or 6 who must have been at least 3 miles from home at some point. This was an example of the ‘laisser faire’ attitude of many Cambodian families that may have something to do with the chilling increase in child abuse in the country.