Angkor Wat, Phenom Penh and Battambang

It was such relief crossing into Cambodia; the atmosphere instantly changed and we were bawled over by the broad grins and waving children. Fifteen mintues in, at a stopover canteen, the waiter took pity on our plin rice order (new country, new attempt at budgeting) and to our delight arrived with a complimentary dish of greens. Wouldn't happen in vietnam.

With it's saffron robed monks, wats adn wide sweeping boulevards, Phnom Penh felt like returning home. After checking into 'okay' guesthouse- it was indeed mediocre. We soon aqcuainted ourselves with a local moto driver who became a friendly face and companion around the city. Big up Call. First stop Harres guest house for an impromptu visit. To our delight he was home and we eventually located him and D was reunited with her ipod (Thanks mum! Kudos for the technological aptitude) We spent the evening catching up with beers, cards and pool lessons with Call and H.

The next day, in search of a more authentic breakfast, Call took us to a local market where we tried a mix of pastries and a coconut based porridge. We then took in PP's sights. A central Wat and the Russian Market- a hot smelly (hello Durian) notoriously over priced market. intrigued byt he smoking baskets, it was here that Call introduced us to a Cambodian delicacy of steamed snails with chilli and lemon grass.

En route to Angkor Wat, leavin PP unexplored for our return visit, we decided it was high time we got off the beaten track - something we sorely missed in Vietnam. unfortunately the notoriously bad transport links meant timewise we had to abandon the adventurous East, so heading West, we spontaneously hopped off the bus early in Kampong Chnang. Stepping off into a random dusty town, we suddenly realised we really had no clue what this place was or indeed if there was anywhere to stay. After reassuring a local policemen that yes we had meant to stop here and no we werent going to Battambang, we congratulated ourselves on being rather intimidatingly off the tourist trail. Our now epic miming skills proved fruitful and two amused moto drivers took us to we're pretty sure KC's only guesthouse. Passing through, to our delight we saw gangs of children, horse drawn carts and bemused faces. Keen to continue our adventure, we battled the searing sun and on push bikes headed, somewhat blindly to a floating village we'd got wind of. After accidentally starting a bidding was between two boat drivers, we precariously made our way accross thin wooden walkways- of course effortlessly manoevered by the locals- and were navigated through a shanty like community of floating brightly coloured huts. Though mostly one room, true to Asia, most were complete with Satellite TV and ghetto blasters. Twenty minutes in, under the concern of the local ladies, totally baffled by our lack of headgear- never had a Vietnamese hat seemed so appealing, We dashed back, feeling a little sun stroked.

After recooperation in the shade and lunch in a local canteen we spent the afternoon cycling around the town, stopping in a little roadside coffee shack. Our enthusiasm for getting off the beaten track waned a little thanks to the lack of any type of cooling device plus unsafe ice and warm drinks rendered us incredible hot and sweaty despite the fact it was 6 pm. It wasn't as though there wasn't any electricity- the ubiquitos cambodian music videos were blaring (we can now singalong...1,2,3,4 ...uno dos tres QUOTROOOO) reverting to classic overheated behavoir, we guzzled fizzy drinks by the gallon and munched our way through crackers and crisps. Despite resolving that we couldnt possible eat again, we found ourselves back in the canteen, braving the unlit streets on our bikes by 7pm. Sitting down, Shock horror, we set eyes on another Barang, turns out he hadn't quite made it to Battambang after underestimating Cambodia's roads and overestimating his biking skills. The next morning after insisting on sorting the bus tickets out ourselves direct from the bus station (normally a good idea) we found ourselves stuck at the staion for 3 hours, under the unfaltering gazes of the now increasing crowd of Cambodians. Whilst trying to order our optimistic takeaway breakfast, 3 American aidworkers came to our resuce,providing a translator who secured us an omelette in a takeaway box. After learning a little more about their projects we set off to see whether we could wrangle a seat on an earlier bus...no such luck.

it is with pride that we recall our arrival at battambang, with super speady efficiency, we secured our cheapest accomodationi Cambodia and within minutes were on the back of a moto and headed for 2 local sites. firstly a quaint bamboo train whihc hurtled through an area of countryside unchartered by road, squeeling as calfs and squirels jumped off the tracks just in the knick of time..

after this we embarked on a hike up to a beautiful monastry now infamous for its caves used as a killing site and mass grave during the khmer rouge. As you descended inot the caves thousands of unidentified skills were earily displayed an experience made all the more haunting by the tales from our guide and his family. These stories struck a chord and sparked an interest in the period and its cuurent implications.

Next on our our whistlestop tour was Siem Reap, major tourist destination and home to Angkor Wat. At our lively hostel, we made friends with a dutch girl and set about coordinating a 3 day temple tour- the main aim of which was to avoided the dreaded templed out syndrome. That evening we went to the temple to view the sunset over Angkor Wat, along with apparently every L.P and Rough Guide reader. Only during the ushering out process did any of us actually locate Angkor Wat- shamefully dissgracing ourselves as we loudly prolaimed...'Oh theeeere it is'.

That eve had a low key evening on the rooftop bar in anticipations of the 5 am start to catch the much acclaimed sunrise over Ankgor Wat. The morning didn't take off to a promising start when awakened by our Tuk Tuk driver we realized we'd slept thought the alarm and consequerntly missed the unusaully early sunrise. further grumbling was brought about by the realisation D had lost her memory card. Adding insult to injury aftre feverishly stumbling around Angkor Wat, R had to return home somewhat placated by the fact that she hadnt chundered all over one of the nine wonders of the world, levaing D and Steffie to continue the tomb raiding alone. With Rs steadily rising temperature and Ds terror after the overzealous travel nurses diagnosis of malaria, we set off (driiven by a malarial tuk tuk driver) unwittingly to SRs most expensive medical facility. Met with uber aircon the effect of paracetamol finally becoming evident typically R perked up whilst D tried to make up for the extorionate medical pill by pilfering vast quantities of the complimentary tea. Doused up on large quantities of antibiotics and painkillers R ignored the doctors advice and we continued with pahse two - our evening temple programme with a 4th member in tow. met with such a beautiful site we couldnt understand the hype about yesterdays must see. the four of us hit the streets of SR; whist strolling throught the night market found oursleves at a cinematic viewing of a doco covering the rise of the khmer rouge regime. sunrise attempt number two was much more successfula and whiule D had a lazy breakfast and relaxed at angkor wat, R and Greg retraced the path of yestrdays missed temples.

arriving back to 'okay' in PP, Rs insistence on ignoring doctors advice took its toll and found herslef bedridden, held hostage by a resident mosquito, watching awful 80s movies. As R was delivered a stack of toast by a concerned hostel staff, D, off duty from her fantastic nursing, met up with Steffy and got to know PP a little better. unfortunatly this included unwittingly being bought breakfast by a self confessed murderer, whown as keen to improve his karma. no joke, aftre accidentally running a thai man over he reasoned rather than pay his hospital fee he may as well reverse and finish the job...needless to say the buffets' abundance fo yummies didnt quite sit so well. spent the day revelling in some shopping and happy houring in a posh rooftop bar. Continueing on the food front, with Rs new found intolerance to asian food, we indulged in our first stint of western food - heavenly bagels in an airconned arty cafe and mexican food.
As R slowly recovered we immersed oursleves in the culture PP had to offer; Call endlessly carting us about between geneceide museum and killing fields, filling us in on Cambodias khmer rouge past and presnt through his personal stories.

The following two days Call took us to a orphanage on the outskirts of PP; we were pleasantly surprised to find a really nice environment, complete with volleyball net, basetball hoops and a recently donated play area. aftre playing with the kids we soon found ourselves conducting an english class, coming up with alphabet games and trying to discipline them - we were soon in awe of the resident teacher a fellow traveller and volunteer.
Exhausting the cultural exploits PP had to offer (art galleries, documentary screenings etc) and tiring of the city, it was time to hit the road again!
the orphanage

Saigon stairs and the Ho Chi Minh Hustle

Determined to find the cheapest accomodation available in Saigon, we set off down a sufficiently dodgy alleyway after being evicted from our first choice (over an inexplicable and uncomprehendible commission fee, payable to whom wasn't clear) Fatigued and pissed off we settled for an equally cheap room...on the 6th floor. That evening unimpressed by the pricey bar scene, we stumbled accross a nearby park full of locals playing tic tac toe, after watching for a few minutes, we attracted a crowd of vietnamese students keen to practice their english. Found ourselves discussing everything from Hamlet, manchester united, and gender/relationship etiquette, plus got an impromptu history lesson from a Vietnamese war veteran. On our way home we decided to embrace all things vietnamese and sampled the nu rave coloured rice and vegetable pudding concoctions. Not advisable. The following morning we set about packing in Saigon's tourist sights, an amazing war museum, a rather ridiculous reunification palace and Saigon's legendary market known for its designer knock offs. After R narrowly avoided an assault from an overenthusiasitc sales woman ( only asked the price!) and D got hysterical over a
Jimmy Choo bag we decided it was time to retreat to the food stalls - best and cheapest food in Vietnam.

Keen to continue our cultural exploits, we embarked on a tour to the Cu Chi tunnels. the rushed 6.30 am start, confounded by a stream of nightbuses and late nights rendered us somewhat intyolerant of the overly chirpy tourguide, who despite our attempts at feined sleep and ipod appearances proceeded to spend a good hour talking at us in a heavily accented hysterical manner. Having unfortunately bagged the front two seats, we had to endure this until the obligatory handicapped handicraft pitstop when we strategically swapped seats. The tour itself, in which we got to crawl through (the albeit widened) tunnels reinacting how whole guerilla communities lived underground during the war. Much to our guides glee, a guy who loved anything explosive and or dangerous, we were herded through the endlessly creative booby traps devised for the americans. Simple yet effective was the mantra. The day was made all the more amusing by his tales of childhood explosive exploits...

One of the craziest experiences in Saigon, a city full of surprises, was the simple act of crossing the road - made Hanoi look like a breeze. We thought our school tesco-run training would stand us in good stead, we thought wrong; after hesitating at the side of the road for more than a pregnant pause, an wizened old woman took pity and herded us across. a ahndy hint from both our guides was to simply step into the road a preceed slowly as the traffic swerves artound you, we took particular heed to cuchi guides gleeful you run you die...

That evening per chance we bumped in to D's work colleages in one of the city's side alleys. Perfect cover to excuse ourselves from a newly acquire religious fanatic we'd encountered at the war museum. Lovely bloody jubly and an interesting chance to swap gap year tales.
After a day mooching around the city, we treated ourselves to a little luxury and all glammed up (ishh) we took much pleasure in directing our taxi to Saigon's exclusive Sheraton hotel to watch the sunset over the city from the 23rd floor cocktail bar. We had prepared oursleves in advance for the monumentally priced drinks, but much to our delight, after spending ages agonising over the menu, the waitress directed us to a happy hour section. Thoroughly enjoyed our one and a half cocktails and the views. for good measure we asked for refills of our complimentary nut plate and pocketed the cocktail stirrers and novalty items. Score. On our way home, good old facebook informed us that the Norweigan boys were in town and miraculously we managed to regroup- despite the lack of mobile phones and best efforts of the extraordinarily incompetent hotel clerk.

Not wanting to leave Vietnam without sampling the deep south, but with only a day to play with, we settled with a somewhat less adventurous but nonthe;less crammed daytour. thankfully the overly chatty cuchi guide was otherwise engaged and we piled into a crmaped minivan with a truckload of asian tourists and thankfully somewhat more sedate guide. Having stopped off yet again at our fav handicapped handicraft pitstop and a quick boat ride across the delta we arrived at our first island. here tourguide piped up with his microphone and proceeded to provide unintentional entertainment. he had a spectacular ability and penchant for repetition, it was as if he took the phrase 'tell em what your gonna tell em, tell 'em it, tell em youve told em' a little to literally -picture the translator scene in lost in translation - the corresponding vietnamese took all of 2secs. activity number 1 was a honey tea and banana biscuit tasting sesh made all the more amusing by our resident vietnamese granny siphoning off the ridiculously strong (esp given it was only 10am) 'banana wine' much to her daughters dismay. this was randomly folowed by a photo opportunity with a python; more complex than you would imagine - holding the snake's head at a compfortable distance from your neck amid visions of strangulations whilst not squeezing it too tight/ provoking it AND tryiung to pose. tyra banks eat your heart out. (unfortunatly due to Rs broken camera and D loosing her memory card we no longer have the photos to prove it..)
Next we had to endure some rather shrill local singing along with a fruit tasting sesh (now realising our hasty 6.30 breakfast was rather unnesc). We also got to try the infamous Durian - a fruit that has plagued our entire journey. For those of you that havnt witnessed this shocker it is the ugliset and smelliest fruit imaginable (of exotic rhol dahl proportions). so potent it's banned on the bangkok metro and taxis. weve since learnt that it can have a drug inducing effect making its rampant popularity in SE Asia a little more fathomable...

Activity number 3 took us to a coconut sweet making factory (D heaven?); on our boatride across to the 'cocnut island' we were told about the legend that is Mr Coconut. We eventually established that we were indeed dealing with, no not the founding father of a coconut region, but a coconut religion. Top dog aka Mr Coconut, who seemed a bit of sketchy character; had not only 9 wives btu encouraged women to worship in the nude. He also insisted his followers consumed a coconut based diet only and didn't leave the island. Or at least this is what we derived from our tour guides rather lengthy lecture on the matter. The coconut sweets themselves however, were uber tasty. Pleased to report no Mr. Coconut or His nude worshippers were to be seen.

The highlight of the trip had to be an idillic longtail boat trip with the mangroves, blue skies, plamtrees, locals going about their daily lives on the water ways - us learning the joys of a vietnamese coned hat.

After lunch, yet more tofu (ubiquitous veggie option), we embarked on a bike ride around the mangrove forests. This fairly standard activity sent our tourguide into a near breakdown, insisting that we all ride in tandem, he warned that if we were not adequately experienced on a bike, now was not the time to learn. That said we did manage to lose one group member much to the concern of our group and irritation of our hysterical little guide as he now herded us onto a ship back to the mainland.

We spent our last evening in Saigon feeling very Vietnamese, drinking Bier Hoi (30 cents for 2 litres), being scolded for playing (we now know illegal card games) and playing pool in Saigons answer to a sauna. Teary farewell to the boys as they headed to Bangkok and us to Cambodia.