We’ve been doing a lot of reminiscing since landing back in Thailand; reflecting on the enormous number of things we’ve done this year, and the cracking people we’ve met along the way. I don’t think when we set off blurry eyed at stupid o’clock in the morning in late January that we expected it to be quite as good as it has been. Not to get too hippy about it all but we’ve both definitely grown as people, and it’s put quite a lot of things into perspective. We both have a better idea of what we want from our lives and what makes us happy (spoiler alert, it’s definitely not Phuket which is rubbish).

Our flight from KL to Phuket was a pleasant one, or at least as pleasant as any flight can be. We arrived at the airport a few hours early upon the advice of other travellers who had noted how shambolic KL international airport is. We were departing from terminal 2 which is taken up mostly by AirAsia planes and largely consists of an enormous shopping mall. There was also a W H Smith which was exciting for all of about 3 seconds. As we sat and waited at the gate, I noticed that a huge thunderstorm had rolled in, wonderful. The flight from Siem Reap to Singapore had taken off in a storm and had been really quite scary so an already anxious Katy Boyce was not a happy bunny. Dave did his absolute best to calm me down and attempted to use the last of our ringgit to buy a chocolate muffin, but alas, apparently it was the shift change which means no transactions for 15 minutes, not sure how viable a business strategy that is but there we go. Muffin-less and in a mild state of panic, we boarded the plane and were informed by the pilot that we were going to wait for the storm to pass before we headed off – phew. I’ll take a 30 minute delay over impending doom any day of the week. As it happened, the flight was fine, the pilot did a particularly excellent job of avoiding the bumps and we landed in Phuket only around 15 minutes late. We suspect that the weather radar technology in KL is quite a bit more sophisticated than in Siem Reap. If it’s anything like the rest of Cambodia, their weather radar is probably just a bloke with a brolly going “yeh, bit grey over Will’s Mum’s, might want to avoid that bit.”

We were staying in Karon Beach which is recommended for families and couples, far away from horrible young people enjoying themselves. We were staying in an apartment complex with a pool and a sea view and it was really quite pleasant. Down in the town however, the restaurants were horrendously overpriced, and everything was just a bit…meh. I don’t know what we were expecting from Phuket but it wasn’t this. Still, the pool was nice, and we had a little balcony, so we set about making the most of it, enjoying a little Pad Thai place we found just around the corner and drinking a considerable amount of beer. We also went out one evening and played dinosaur mini golf which was also overpriced but I am willing to make concessions for dinosaurs and it turned out to be quite good fun. The beach itself was really pretty and we went to a temple market as well, it just wasn’t quite what we were expecting. With time to kill and the other islands being expensive to both get to and stay on, we decided to hang around Phuket for another week for some reason. Rather than stay in our nice beach front pool apartment we decided to head further inland to Phuket Old Town, intending to take in a bit of culture. We’d booked into an AirBnB in another apartment complex with a pool, near a big Tesco Lotus. It was a little outside the town, but we figured we’d just get a grab if we wanted to go anywhere, just like we’d been doing for most of the rest of our time in SEA. Oh how wrong we were, the apartment was tiny, it had a leather sofa despite the pictures showing otherwise, the balcony was unusable as you just got blasted from the hot air outlet of the AC unit and, in case you weren’t aware, the taxis on Phuket are controlled by a huge cartel so a trip that would cost around 60 baht in Bangkok (about £1.50) would cost you 290 baht (almost £7) in Phuket. Madness. So, we spent the week catching up on Netflix, once again consuming obscene amounts of beer and trying our best to make the most of it. At least we were saving some money by not really doing very much, and we did get to swim every day. We also found out that the Phuket mob are very anti-begpacker, often sending them death threats, so I suppose every cloud does have a silver lining.

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Finally, the day came for us to leave and after one 5 hour bus journey, a short one night stopover in Surat Thani, and a 4 hour train ride, we arrived in what turned out to be one of the best places we’ve stayed in our whole time in SEA – the delightful Prachuap Khiri Khan. It sits at one of the narrowest points in Thailand, just 10km from coast to the border with Myanmar and is home to a Royal Thai Airforce Base. As such, it was one of the earliest points of invasion by the Japanese into Thailand during WW2. With a population of around 25,000, it’s also perfectly sized, and is a popular holiday destination for Thai people. We were staying in a guesthouse run by a tiny Thai woman and her Dutch husband, who also owned and ran a café just down the road. There’s a small expat community here, mostly Dutch and German but we ran into a Canadian fellow as well, and there’s a restaurant run by Aussies. After Phuket, it felt like heaven. Our first night there we walked along the seafront, out up onto the pier, enjoying the sea breeze and the lack of white people. We weren’t hassled for a Tuk Tuk or by people trying to sell us anything or get us to come into their restaurant, it was just heaven. For the two full days we were there, we rented a scooter and whizzed down through the Airbase where you sign in with your passport number and have to drive across a runway. The first time we drove across, we got to see one of the planes attempting an aborted landing manoeuvre so that was pretty great. Once we were allowed to cross, we carried on down about 5km south to Ao Manao bay and its accompanying beach. The beach is that lovely grey yellow of volcanic sand and is peppered with deckchairs and umbrellas. Parking up, we settled down by the sea where we paid 20 baht for the privilege of a chair and some shade, and enjoyed a day of doing nothing but swimming, reading, drinking beer, and eating amazing Thai food. There were only about 10 people in total at the beach on our first day, and perhaps 15 on our second, the vast majority of them Thai. Perfect. I even befriended a local dog, as is tradition. Oh, and Dave got stung by a jellyfish, but not badly, and he’s fine now, or at least as fine as he was before.

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It’s always a little odd returning to the place where you started travelling. When we got back to Lima after 3 months in South America we were surprised to find how much more confident and comfortable we were, just sort of milling about. The same can be said for Bangkok, although we’d chosen to stay a little outside of the city centre this time, seemingly in the middle of nowhere for now, but near the soon to be opened extension of the blue MRT line. We had already seen the majority of the tourist attractions on offer in Bangkok anyway, with the exception of the Royal Palace, but there was no way we were paying £15 each for that! Especially when it’s probably just another immensely impressive collection of imposing intricately carved facades and towering golden buddha statues, with grandeur and opulence at every turn – yawn. I wonder if publicly refusing to visit the Royal Palace falls under the lèse-majesté law. Regardless, we decided that the immense Chatuchak weekend market was much more up our street, with over 15,000 stalls spread across several acres just one MRT stop away from our AirBnb. We spent the afternoon getting entirely lost in the rabbit warren of stalls, corridors, food shops, and massage parlours, enjoyed a particularly yummy pad thai and also picked up some souvenirs for our friends back home. We’re usually the sort of people to spend about 10 minutes shopping and then getting bored but we spent a good 4 hours wandering around, most of the stalls were very different from each other, and sold a lot more than your standard tourist rubbish. There was also a section selling puppies, guinea pigs, kittens, and all manner of reptile, but that left us feeling rather sad, so we hurried on back to peruse the more inanimate offerings instead. Picking up a few souvenirs and after a particularly yummy pad thai, we headed back to the apartment.

One thing we were adamant about doing before we left Thailand was a cooking class; there was no way we weren’t learning how to make pad thai properly before going home. We booked into a class via AirBnB Experiences, something we’d never used before so we were a little sceptical, despite the excellent reviews. Our fears were quickly alleviated however as we were greeted at the MRT station by a delightfully exuberant chap who told us that we could call him Jay because his actual name had more than 20 letters. We were joined by a mother and daughter from Korea and Jay led us off to the local market where we were going to pick up ingredients for our cooking class. The market itself was everything we have come to love about South East Asia – all food is fresh and delicious, and whilst not kept in the most hygienic of conditions, you’re going to cook the heck out of it before eating it, so it’s not too much of a problem. Jay pointed out the various different ingredients and happily chatted with the stall owners as we went around. We saw everything from giant onions to live frogs to cow intestines and pickled radishes, as well as a very cute kitten and its mum.

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Ingredients purchased, we hopped into a tuk-tuk before pulling up to a traditional Thai home, heading in through the gate to the outdoor kitchen. We prepared the ingredients as a group, chopping, slicing, crushing, and sampling as we went. We cooked Tom Yum soup, Pad Thai, Masaman curry and mango sticky rice and were also given a recipe book at the end so that we can cook all the dishes we learned back at home. Jay was a great host and we had a really good laugh mucking about with him while making delicious food. It was really fab to do something like this on our penultimate day, ending our trip on a high.

And that dear reader, is pretty much it. Other than another market visit and a very long and tedious journey back to the UK. We’re currently sitting in a hotel just outside Heathrow airport having just enjoyed a long 12 hour sleep in a very comfy bed. So, I suppose it’s back to the real world now. Thanks for sticking with us along the way. It’s been a year we’ll never forget.

After a quick stop off in KL for a night, where we enjoyed a particular delicious Indian, we hopped onto yet another bus and whizzed down south to a delightful seaside town called Melaka (also spelled Malacca). Developed as a commercial port town in the early 15^th century, it was captured by the Portuguese and then the Dutch before being ceded to the British in 1824, then briefly to the Japanese during WW2 until finally becoming part of the Malayan Union in 1946. It was also listed as a UNESCO world heritage site in 2007. With such a varied history, it’s no wonder that the city is so appealing to tourists. In 2017 it recorded almost 17 million of them.

We were staying a few miles outside of the city centre in an AirBnB named the Atlantis Residence, part of a new development on reclaimed land to the North of the old town. Our apartment was a large two bedroom 27^th floor stylish IKEA showroom sponsored by the colour silver, overlooking the ocean to the West (thankfully facing away from the large pool in the centre of the complex and the noise being emitted by the numerous children in it). The balcony looks out to the reclaimed land and ocean where presumably the plan is to construct more of the kind of holiday let apartments that we’re in, but for the time being it offers an unobstructed view of the ships in the bay, as well as some fantastic thunderstorms every evening. After almost 9 months of living in very close quarters, we were grateful to have a bit of room to stretch our legs and experience the luxury of personal space.

Our first taste of the old town was a trip to the weekend night market which we’d heard was quite a good one. There’s a distinctly European feel to it, which isn’t surprising I suppose given its history. It feels a bit like Amsterdam meets Hoi An, and the market was a good mix of tourist toot, durian based snacks and unnecessary plastic. At the far end, we stumbled upon two old men singing karaoke and dancing on the steps outside a Chinese temple, all this in a country where the vast majority of the population doesn’t drink. It was really good fun to watch. There’s something fascinating about someone getting up in front of a bunch of strangers to sing their heart out, especially when their idea of singing seems to be a competition as to who can sound the most like a cat being strangled. I have to confess when we first arrived in Malaysia, I was a little underwhelmed, but the kindness and friendliness of the people, as well as the tolerance and respect for different religions and lifestyles has absolutely won us over. The vast majority of people are curious about us, asking where we’ve come from and what we’re up to in Malaysia. We also heard an advert on the radio encouraging politeness and reminding people to say please and thank you to each other, which is absolutely the way to any Brit’s heart (that and the tea, scones, and jam from the Cameron Highlands).

One of the things we seem to be doing rather a lot of recently is nothing. That is to say vegging out on the sofa catching up on all the TV we’ve missed since January and consuming the offerings of the local convenience store. Having said that, we haven’t been complete sloths, Melaka is home to a wealth of museums and so we decided to take advantage of its rather compact city centre, taking a stroll along the riverfront before reaching the Baba and Nyonya Heritage Museum. The museum is a brilliantly preserved house from the 1800s which continues to be owned by the descendants of the house’s original owner, Chan Chang Siew. The word “Baba” refers to a Straits-born man of Chinese parentage and the word “Nyonya” refers to a Straits-born woman of Chinese parentage. The word “Nyonya” is still used today but mostly in reference to certain cuisines and dishes that you can find throughout Malaysia. Sadly, the Museum does not allow photography, so I’ve pinched a few off their website instead. It was a good hour that we spent wandering through the old house, admiring the mother of pearl lacquered furniture and reading about the traditions of the time. The wooden stairs leading up to the second floor are not only intricately carved, but also have a lockable gate at the top and a wooden cover that can be folded over in order to prevent mischievous children from going downstairs when they should be in bed, and also to stop those returning to the house later than they should have been from being able to sneak back in. Neither Dave nor I could empathise of course, having never done either of these things.

The following day, in a shocking turn of events, we embarked on a free walking tour provided by the Malaysia Tourism Board. The sky was clear, and the sea haze had retreated, leaving us considerably sweatier than we would normally have been at 9am. Luckily the meeting point was air-conditioned, and we joined a group of around 20 people for what turned out to be the longest 3 hours of our lives. Melaka Old Town is a very walkable place, being very flat and having lots of trees for shelter; unfortunately, it also has one of the dullest free walking tours imaginable. 3 hours is a long time to be standing around in the sun, especially when the advertised time was roughly 2 hours, leaving us finished around 11am which as everyone knows is the perfect time for coffee and a cake. Our tour guide was an older chap of Indian descent and whilst not being completely devoid of personality, he did talk over me a few times which seems to happen a lot here. Taxi drivers also ignore me and talk to Dave instead, so I’ve taken up the habit of answering when they talk to him. We’ve only got a month left and I’m fed up of picking my battles. Anyway, back to the walking tour. The guide also had a rather annoying tendency to either stop half-way through a rather interesting anecdote, or drone on unnecessarily about tombstones, or how he cured his mother and sister of Dengue Fever using a local isotonic drink, or how science and medicine aren’t interested in natural remedies, despite, you know, aspirin coming from a tree, or quinine, or menthol, it’s almost as if they don’t like to base scientific certainties on one piece of anecdotal evidence! Still, we did learn a few bits and pieces, and it was free after all. Our tour group was reduced to about 10 people by the end, poor bloke. Naturally, once he’d finished telling us about every single possible restaurant in all of Melaka, we told him we’d had a jolly nice time thank you very much and tipped him 10 Ringgit (about £2). Luckily for us we finished up by the river, meaning it as only a short walk to the nearest bar for some lunch and a cold beer, before heading back to the AirBnB to take advantage of the rather large swimming pool.

After a lazy morning featuring scrambled eggs and catching up on The Circle, we headed into town for a spot of lunch at Geographer’s Café where I discovered that the local sour plum &lime juice is one of the nicest drinks on the planet. Bellies full, we walked up the wonderful Jonker Street up to the Stadthyus building. Believed to be the oldest surviving Dutch structure in all of the Eastern world, its bright salmon pink façade certainly draws your attention. Built between 1641 and 1660 on the ruins of a Portuguese fort, the building housed several successive governments, right up until 1982 when it was turned into a museum. Now I know we’ve touched on this before, and I think we’re definitely spoilt in so far as museums go because we grew up with places like the National History Museum or the Science Museum, but museums in South East Asia are just a bit, meh. That’s not to say the history isn’t fascinating or that the relics they house aren’t to be cherished and preserved, it’s just that they need to hire some curators, or at least put in some signs or something. The Stadthyus jumped from weaponry to pottery to local food and wedding customs, without so much as a thread from which to weave the narrative of the place. Melaka has such a rich history and it’s bizarre that someone has just thrown some old plates, paintings, and terrifying mannequins into the building and thought “yep, that’s a jolly good museum thanks, pub anyone?”. There was an information point as you entered, but it seemed to consist of some leaflets for the very museum we were already inside of, and the most bored looking member of staff you could possibly imagine. We did meet a nice cat as we walked through though, so at least there was that. Our ticket also included the Governor’s Museum, which was just a cult of personality to the various sultans and governors in Malaysia, half closed and falling to pieces with nary a staff member in sight (spooky) as well as the Democratic Government Museum, which sounds a lot more Orwellian than it actually turned out to be. There was quite a lot of information about the independence of Malaysia but again in a rather hodge podge fashion, I think we might have to give up on museums in South East Asia and rely on Father Christmas to bring us some jolly good history books instead.

Melaka also offers a river cruise throughout the day and we’d decided to hop aboard at 7pm so that we could enjoy the light on the ride up and then the lights from the old town in the dark on the way back. The sun sets really quickly here so you don’t really get a twilight, but what sunset there was to be had, we enjoyed from a bar just across the river that we’d settled into a few hours earlier, after our jam packed rip roaring adventure around the various museums. This meant that by the time we boarded the boat at 7pm, we were a little sloshed. Alcohol is expensive here, well at least by South East Asian standards. A 620ml bottle of beer in Thailand for example will set you back between £1-£2 depending on the bar. A 620ml bottle of beer in Malaysia will typically cost between £4 – £5, so no more expensive than back in the UK, but definitely a bit more than we’ve been paying over the past 5 months. As such, the river cruise was fab. Unlike the museums, the whole trip has been really thought through, with lights and attractions being put up along the way, with the voiceover providing you with explanations about the things you’re seeing. Everyone sitting at the bars along the riverside waves at you as you go past too, and who can resist waving back? It lasted around 40 minutes and we enjoyed every second, despite the booming middle-eastern chap sitting at the front having a conversation on his phone the whole time. Don’t really know why he’d paid to come on the cruise if he was just going to be on his phone. Ah well, we had a nice time, and we enjoyed several more beers at a Thai restaurant on the riverside, saw yet another pussy cat, and stumbled back to the apartment feeling really rather jolly indeed.

And that dear reader more or less sums up our time in Melaka. It was definitely one of our favourite places in Malaysia, retaining that old town charm but also giving you plenty of things to see and do. Our last night there a huge great storm rolled in and kept us entertained for hours. We were very sad to be saying goodbye to our huge great apartment, not just because of the amount of space we’d had, but also because Melaka had been a really enchanting place to spend our last full week in Malaysia. Back to KL next for a few days and then onwards to Thailand where the countdown to home begins.

Re-joining the mainland via the incredibly exciting ferry, we hopped onto a rather snazzy coach towards our next destination. Ipoh (pronounced eeeeeeeeeepoh) is a 2 hour drive from Butterworth and we were once again pleasantly surprised by just how quick a 2 hour journey feels to us now. Ipoh is Malaysia’s 3^rd largest city and is separated into the Old and New Towns by a rather convenient river. It grew rapidly from around 1880 when large tin deposits were discovered nearby and has an interesting history peppered with fires, British architecture, and Japanese occupation. It’s also apparently known to some as the “Hipster Capital of Malaysia” but I am pleased to announce we definitely did not see this side of it.

For our first full day, I played tour guide. We had found a self-guided walking tour online and decided to at least attempt to burn off some of the spare calories we’d collected in Penang. Starting up by the Railway Station – nicknamed the Taj Mahal of Ipoh – we strolled through the streets of the old town, taking in the brilliant white walls of the old buildings. In fact, it rather reminded us of the architecture in Arequipa in Peru, both designed we imagine, with the intent of keeping the heat firmly outdoors.  One landmark of particular interest is the Birch Memorial Clock Tower, completed in 1909. Built to commemorate one James Wheeler Woodford Birch, who was speared to death in his boat house in 1875. To cut a long story short, he stuck his nose where he shouldn’t have and meddled in things he shouldn’t have been meddling with. His assassination led to the outbreak of the Perak War and ultimately a greater British political influence across the Malay peninsula. The tower itself has 4 panels depicting the evolution of civilisation, featuring, amongst others, Plato, Moses, Confucius, Florence Nightingale, and more generic stone age characters. Interestingly, until recently, the monument depicted Mohammed, but this has since been painted over following local religious objections. When I say local, I mean local, in that there is a mosque directly opposite. They haven’t done a very good job of painting over him however, as now it just looks like there’s a spooky Mohammed ghost floating around next to Constantine the Great.

We passed old banks and a house where Japanese spy Masaji Fukabori allegedly lived prior to World War II, but perhaps the most impressive building on our tour was none other than Malaysia’s First Multi-Storey Car Park. Yes folks, two impressive floors filled with rubbish and bird poop, truly a source of Malaysian national pride. Opposite this most impressive piece of south east Asian heritage is the premises of the former Perak River Hydro-Electric Power Company. Formed in London in 1926, they were Malaya’s largest power supplier for many years. They constructed both a dam and a hydro-electric power station on the Perak River in 1930, making them early pioneers of renewable energy. The company was absorbed by the Central Electricity Board in 1955 but the dam remains part of Malaysia’s energy infrastructure to this day. By this time, it was about 11:30 and we were in dire need of a place to cool down and refuel, so we headed into a nearby café to recharge our batteries. We were booked onto a tour of a local museum at 2pm so we still had some time to kill.

Nearby to our café was a rather impressive building owned by HSBC bank. The firm first arrived in Ipoh in 1910 before moving to its current location in the 1930s. Honestly the whole thing wouldn’t be out of place in Bank in London and we later discovered that it was used as a base by the Japanese occupying forces during WW2. Continuing on through Little India, we did our best to avoid the sun while taking in the colours and smells of this part of the city, before heading down Concubine Lane. As you might have guessed from the name, the lane has a rather sordid history. According to locals, the politicians, businessmen, and gangsters of Ipoh, would hide their concubines in the many houses lining the small alley. Luckily for us, the only temptations now lying in wait are the many restaurants, ice cream stalls and market stands, selling everything from jewellery to hello kitty dolls to plastic dinosaur bubble wands – much more exciting.

With some time still to kill before our tour, we ducked into another local café just in the nick of time before the heavens opened, treating us to one of the most spectacular downpours we’d seen in at least a week. We weren’t too concerned though, we had about 45 minutes until the tour and it was just a short walk away. We also had our trust Cambodian umbrellas in tow, out of which we’d definitely got our $5 worth at this point. As we’ve no doubt mentioned before, the heavier the rain, the shorter the storm tends to be here, so we sat and sipped our respective beverages, laughing to ourselves as we watched the roads turn into swimming pools. Time ticked on, and with ten minutes to go before our tour started, we were no longer laughing as we waded (literally) through the streets, our umbrellas no more useful than paper towels, soaked to the bone once we reached the doors of the museum. We must have looked a right state as the woman invited us in early to dry off and warm up. I think we’d have been dryer if we’d have spent the day at a water park. Soggy and dripping, we were led around Han Chin Pet Soo by a delightful tour guide who spoke excellent English; it was just a shame we couldn’t really hear what she was saying with the monsoon hammering on the windows and roof. Han Chin Pet Soo is a restored Tin Miner’s Club building and it set over three floors. It was founded by Leong Fee in 1857 as a place for the local Hakka miners to relax. Inside you could find an opium den, gambling, and more than a few special lady friends to keep you company. It’s the sort of place where you’d half expect to find several members of the Conservative Party being entertained by Donald Trump. Needless to say, with all the monkey business going on inside this place, no wives were allowed. The ground floor goes into more details about tin mining, and there’s also a large dining table set out how it would have been during the time that the club was operational. Sadly, with the decline of the tin industry, the building fell into disrepair until it was leased to a local charity in 2013. It’s a well put together museum, and considering it runs on donations alone, gives a great insight into Ipoh’s history and the former glory that the building once enjoyed.

Now a little less soggy, and feeling a bit less sorry for ourselves, we headed back to our hotel to fully dry off. Dear reader I don’t usually choose to mention dinner in our blogs as no one really cares about all that boring stuff, but that evening was definitely an interesting one. We decided to eat at the café inside the hotel as we’d done rather a lot of walking and were quite tired. It didn’t have the best reviews, but we’ve found that anything above a 3.5/5 tends to be adequate. As we wandered in, we were greeted by the staff and headed into the dining room past a lone woman sitting on a sofa. We were the only ones in the restaurant itself but that’s not unusual given the time of year and the staff were pleasant and all seemed well. Suddenly, the aforementioned woman comes stomping into the dining room, huffing and puffing about seating herself and not being given a menu and that she was very tired. She also chose the table directly next to us in an empty restaurant of 20+ tables. Hmm. After snapping at the lovely woman running the place “I want a coke, I want X, I want Y, I want Z”, she sat and huffed and puffed as we tried our best to make light conversation, sharing the sort of glance that when you’ve been together almost 7 years, says more than any words possibly could. After what felt like an eternity but was probably only about 5 minutes, she got up from the table, collected her bag and left. We immediately burst into fits of giggles, thinking ourselves lucky to have a small reprieve before she returned for her meal. Alas dear reader our neighbour never returned, and when the waitress returned with her meal and her drink, she looked at us expecting some sort of explanation. We could but shrug. The waitress left her poor untouched meal on the table and as we left, it was still there. When we paid, we shared a laugh at her expense with the waitress, and that is the mystery of the Ipoh woman. Some say she is still huffing and puffing her way around Ipoh’s various restaurants, leaving nothing but abandoned curries and full glasses of coke in her wake…

The following day we had plans to visit a local temple built into the side of a limestone cliff and also a local abandoned castle, but fate saw fit to deal me a bout of traveller’s stomach so instead we spent all day doing not very much of anything. And with that our time in Ipoh came to an end! A little disappointed that we hadn’t seen as much as we’d have liked to but excited to be heading up into the mountains to the Cameron Highlands.

Much like Dalat in Vietnam, Cameron Highlands sits nestled in the mountains, with not only cleaner air but also the chance to feel the illusive “cold” temperature for the first time in months. The coach wasn’t quite as snazzy as the one we’d taken from Butterworth, and the driving was a little erratic as we tore around hairpin bends, luckily though there was no overtaking round blind corners and compared to some of the driving we’ve experienced during the past 5 months, was incredibly safe. At least we were in a coach this time rather than a tiny minivan, so this at least provided some protection from perilous plunges or oncoming traffic. Needless to say, we arrived in one piece and checked into Father’s Guesthouse, a short walk from the bus station in the tiny town of Tanah Rata. Founded by, yep you guessed it, the British, the Cameron Highlands offer some cracking treks as well as plentiful strawberry farms and a huge tea plantation. Tanah Rata itself sits at around 1800m and reminds me very much of some of the smaller towns and villages in the Alps, though it never snows here. There is a golf course however, which boasts the cheapest fees in all of Malaysia. You can absolutely tell that the British have been here, with the golf and the strawberry jam and the scones and the drizzle, you could close your eyes and be forgiven for thinking you were somewhere back in old blighty.

The following day we’d booked ourselves onto a full day tour to explore the local area. Our tour guide Steve (one suspects this is not his real name) picked us up around 8am and we were bundled into the back of a Land Rover with a Belgian couple named Gerard and Sara. Our first stop was the infamous mossy forest, the 4^th oldest forest in the world. There is a walkway here where you can climb a small tower and see views for miles around. We were lucky on two accounts. The first is that normally you have a pay £6 to the forestry commission to go up, but it was so early that they hadn’t arrived yet – woohoo! The second is that we’re slap bang in the middle of monsoon season, so the cloud cover is very low, meaning at this time of year you’re paying £6 to go and look at some very nice clouds. On our visit however the clouds broke, and we were treated to a fabulous view of the surrounding valleys and peaks, or at least we were once the couple taking wedding photos moved out of the way. The mossy forest is really something to behold, as our Belgian friend noted, it’s like something out of The Lord of the Rings, trees twisting gnarled and bending the light through the branches, huge bunches of moss hang from the vines above you, you can absolutely feel the age of the place.

After we descended, Steve took us on a whistle stop tour of various plants in the local area and their medicinal purposes. He told us how he’d spent time living with the indigenous people in the jungle and showed us plants that repel mosquitos, help clot blood, help with digestion, and also a rather dubious plant that locally is dubbed as Viagra for women. We’ve come across similar claims a few times during our travels, in various different countries, and bizarrely enough it always seems to be men telling us how wonderful these plants are for women. Hmm. It was still interesting however, and he also regaled us with a story regarding Asian Giant Hornets and how a tourist had been flying a drone in the area and lost control of it, at which point it fell onto an Asian Giant Hornet nest (they nest in the ground), causing them to come flooding out and attacking the ~450 people wandering around the tea plantation at that time. Ouch. We were beginning to understand all the signs everywhere forbidding drones. We’d come this far without having to use our travel insurance and we weren’t keen to change that any time soon and luckily our Belgian buddies hadn’t brought a drone. The mossy forest sits atop the BOH (Best of Highlands) tea plantation and we took the opportunity to wander down the mountain to look out over the rolling hills striped with tea trees. Tea is grown on a tree rather than a plant (see we did learn something!) and the trees are harvested every 21 days in a systematic pattern, with only the younger light green shoots being harvested. The darker green leaves are left to drop and provide fertilizer for the trees. The trees here are the same ones that were planted 90 years ago by John Archibald Russell (no prizes for guessing his nationality) and the estate continues to be run by his granddaughter. Much like pepper, the varieties come from the same plant at different stages of fermentation. Green tea requires no fermentation, simply pluck the leaves, dry them and stew. Black tea however requires a longer fermentation process and any flavours (peppermint, strawberry etc) are added in the form of oil into the fermentation process. Steve had worked on the tea farms when he was younger, so he was a fountain of knowledge. We wandered down the path looking out over the tea trees before climbing back into the Jeep to head to the processing factory.

At the factory, we wandered through and saw the various stages of the tea leaves being transformed into our nation’s favourite beverage, before sampling a cup of the black stuff ourselves. It’s really very nice and there is something so incredibly civilised about a nice cup of tea and a scone with local made strawberry jam. The tea itself is sweet, it doesn’t require sugar, in fact it doesn’t even really need milk. We were inclined to purchase some from the factory shop, but it only came in bulky tins which unfortunately, at this stage of our travels, are not going to fit into our suitcases. Never mind, you’ll all just have to come here and try some for yourselves!

Following a brief stop to a butterfly farm and some lunch where I played with some cats (makes a nice change), we headed to a local museum known as the Time Tunnel. Far from the radio feature in which you guess the year the songs are from; the Time Tunnel really doesn’t look like much from the outside. As we entered, we were really happy to be proven wrong. What we found was an excellent display featuring information about Malaysia during WW2 as well as the following Communist insurgence, referred to in the history books as an “emergency” rather than a “war” as Lloyds insurers would not pay out in the event of a “war”. It was also filled with old advertising memorabilia, tin toys, old bikes and pens and all sorts of interesting knick-knacks. Did you know that the largest concentration of Land Rovers outside of a British military base anywhere in the world is Cameron Highlands? Well you do now!

Feeling thoroughly enlightened, our last two stops were to a local strawberry farm where we bought some strawberry chocolate and ate some strawberries (not as nice as English ones but still nice) and then headed onto a Buddhist temple. We’ve seen a lot of temples and so weren’t too fussed about that, but it had a nice fishpond.

And that about sums up our time in Tanah Rata! We did spend a second day here but decided to have a lazy day, sitting around reading and writing blogs, oh and calling Mum on her birthday (Happy Birthday Mummo!). We’re off down to Melaka next which is an old Dutch colonial town. But we’ll tell you all about that another time.

Following on from Angkor Wat, you’d think the temples become less impressive, but each one has its own individual style and unique qualities so whilst Angkor Wat might be the biggest site, some of the smaller ones are definitely in the running. Having been up since 4 that morning we were starting to feel a little more laggy than we had been the day before. Where we were gallantly leaping up temple steps yesterday, we were now sluggishly heaving ourselves up each huge stone step, determined not to let heavy legs stop us from enjoying the views. Once again Lee knew all the best places to go and we avoided the huge tour groups for the majority of the day. The ruins of Ta Promh, Ta Nei and Ta Keo are considerably more dilapidated than the others we had seen so far, with huge trees overgrowing the crumbling moss covered walls. We kept expecting to find hidden mini-games and treasure chests to unlock, joking that the places where rubble was covering the entrance were areas we hadn’t unlocked yet. The whole thing felt very much like being in Tomb Raider and it wasn’t until after we’d finished that Dave told me that the sites had in fact been used in the Tomb Raider film series – I thought Lee was just joking when he kept bringing it up. Silly me!

Ta Nei in particular was really run down. It’s deep in the middle of the jungle, accessed via the most 3D road we’d come across so far. Signs warned of gibbons in the area and encouraged you not to try to touch them or they would bite you. Sadly, we never caught a glimpse of them, but the abandoned temple more than made up for it. It’s currently in the process of being tidied up a bit, but when we visited there was nobody there, apart from the dreaded bitey ants. It gave us an idea of what the other temples might have looked like before they were transformed into more ‘tourist-friendly’ sites. We clambered over boulders and ducked under sinking towers, all the while desperately trying to avoid being bitten. Lee was able to accompany us around this one as there were no barriers or ticket guards. Typically, the temples throughout the Angkor site have official tour guides which you can rent to take you round but Lee had given us heaps of information before heading inside each one and we were happy to be able to go at our own pace.

It was now around 11am and we were definitely feeling a little worse for wear; the sun now in full force and a breeze distinctly lacking. Our final stop, other than passing under/through/around/on top of some of the gates surrounding it, was Bayon. Unbeknownst to us, we were visiting slap bang in the middle of Pchum Ben – Ancestor’s Day. This public holiday gives Buddhists the chance to pay respects to their dead relatives by making meals for the monks. Bayon is one of the temples that is more “alive” in so far as local people still use it as a place of worship, so it was absolutely heaving. This, coupled with the fact that we’d been up since 4am and don’t really like places with heaps of people at the best of times, meant that our visit was very much a flying one. There was however plenty of time to stop and take pictures of the very cute monkeys roaming around the place. Pausing just outside of the South Gate to take some pictures, Lee spent around 30 minutes regaling us with tales of corruption and Vietnamese interference within the Cambodian government. Unsurprisingly, a lot of it is true but Cambodia is a small country compared to its neighbours and has a bit of a complex as such. It’s important to take things like this with a pinch of salt, and if you got to Vietnam, you’ll find that the other side of the coin tells a similar story but with the blame landing squarely on the opposite side – politics, eh!

Sadly, the following day Mr Lee had another appointment, so his cousin Tom was to take us around the remaining few temples in the Roluous group – an older collection of ruins built over 1000 years ago. Thankfully he didn’t pick us up until 9am (what a lie in!) and we spent the rest of the morning exploring some of these much older relics. I have to confess dear reader that by this point we were starting to feel like we’d probably seen enough ancient temples to last us a lifetime and were grateful that we were finished by around midday. It wasn’t quite getting to the same level as Peru and the ancient agricultural terraces, but it was straying dangerously close to NABAT (Not Another Bloody Ancient Temple) territory. Still, I’ve included some pictures as they are not to be sniffed at.

With just two days now remaining in Cambodia, we were eager to see everything else, besides temples, that Siem Reap had to offer. One such thing was the Explosive Detection Dogs show which we think should probably be called the ExplosiveS Detection Dogs show, with an S, so as to avoid any confusion as to what exactly potentially explodes. We arrived around 4pm and were greeted by an exceptionally enthusiastic Aussie named Amy who showed us around and talked us through the centre and its work. They’re very similar to the APOPO centre with the giant rats but they use different techniques and most importantly, you get to cuddle the dogs at the end. We were the only two people there that afternoon and Amy was bemoaning the fact that Trip Advisor had rather oddly moved their show from the Things To Do in Siem Reap category to Concerts. Something to do with algorithms apparently. The dogs are trained to detect smaller and smaller amounts of their favourite toys mixed with tiny amounts of explosives until eventually they are able to detect even a trace amount of it up to 2 metres below the soil. They are trained to sit whenever they smell it so there is no danger to them, and they have never had an accident with any dog. Some dogs don’t quite pass the difficult training programme, and so come to work at the display centre. The organisation is run by a Norwegian NGO and the vast majority of the staff are local women. One of the dog handlers started out as a cleaner and worked her way up through the ranks and is now their lead handler which is fantastic. After taking some pictures and giving the dogs a good cuddle, we said our goodbyes to Amy and headed back into town. Our plan for the evening was to go and see another of the storytelling shows we’d been to in Luang Prabang back in Laos but when we arrived, we were told that the place was closed for the month due to the low season – bummer.

We’d also been trying to get onto a tour of the floating villages out on Ton Le Sap lake but again, due to the low season, we were forced to cancel – double bummer! We are not ones to be easily disheartened however and after a delicious meal at a local Greek restaurant, booked ourselves two tickets to the Phare Cambodian Circus instead. We’d missed out Battambang as the show doesn’t run every night but luckily the Siem Reap one is a nightly affair. The circus is a huge organisation which also serves as a charity funding a local school as well as providing Cambodian children a space to develop creative skills as well as the arts, giving them the means to make a living through theatre, dance, music, art, and circus skills. The show itself was mostly acrobatics, with some acting and fabulous musicians. It lasted around an hour, but it felt like just a few minutes and we really enjoyed ourselves. We even got to try some booze in the gift shop – result.

And that just about wraps things up! It feels odd to be leaving Cambodia after having spent almost 2 months there. We’d just started to get used to all its idiosyncrasies and bureaucracies, its terrible roads and non-existent pavements. The people are some of the friendliest we have come across, the whole country feels like that scratchy old blanket you have that’s falling to pieces in the back of your cupboard, slightly uncomfortable but very very warm. Au revoir Cambodia!

Three and a half hours of jostling, bouncing, bumping, and lots of uncomfortable adjectives later, we found ourselves in the city of Siem Reap, the final stop in our 7 week journey through Cambodia. The name ‘Siem Reap’ can be translated to mean ‘defeat of Siam (Thailand)’ and is commonly seen to refer to a significant moment in the long feuding history between the Khmer and Siamese kingdoms. Just how accurate this is depends on who you ask. In fact, a lot of history around here seems to depend on who you ask. Cambodian people and Thai people are historical enemies, just like the Cambodians and the Vietnamese, and the Cambodians and the Chinese, and the Cambodians and the Malaysians, and the Cambodians and the French, and the Cambodians and the Americans, and the Cambodians and the other Cambodians. Hmm.

For a city of just under 150,000 people, Siem Reap has a heck of a lot going for it. Some say its biggest draw is Angkor Wat, built during the 12^th century during the Khmer empire, for others it’s Pub Street, built during the 21^st century during the Angkor beer for $0.50 empire. We’ll leave it to your discretion to decide which is the main reason we came here. But more on that later. Our first full day we decided to go and visit the APOPO centre, the base of operations for a landmine clearing NGO that uses a rather unique technique in its daily operations: rats. African Giant Pouched rats to be precise. The rats were originally used in Mozambique both to help clear landmines and detect tuberculosis and helped the country to officially achieve its mine-free status in 2015. The rats are now used in Cambodia, Angola, Zimbabwe, and Columbia and have a 100% success rate. They can clear the size of a tennis court in just 30 minutes – something that would take humans with metal detectors up to 4 days. We got the opportunity to see one of the rats in action and it was really very impressive. The rat is hooked up to a harness on a rope with two handlers either side of the area to be cleared. The rat is then systematically led back and forth between the two handlers until it smells the explosive, at which point it will dig the ground, run to its handler for a treat, run back to the same spot and dig again, then run to the second handler for a further treat. They are trained only to sniff out the bombs and mines, so there are no false positives with scrap metal like there would be with humans and metal detectors. They’re also incredibly cute and I would like one please. Sadly, not all rats pass the training programme, and, in such cases, they are released back into the wild. We rather liked the idea that somewhere in Africa there are rats biffing about who are sort of ok at sniffing out landmines. They also retire when they get to about 7 years old and spend the rest of their days in an air-conditioned enclosure, eating, sleeping, and generally doing what rats do best. It’s a really worthwhile organisation and we were really impressed.

Something we weren’t so impressed with however was the Siem Reap night market. After doing a bit of research online we headed off to the one that looked the best, but actually turned out to be about 10 stalls of severely disinterested looking women, trying to flog the same old tourist crap that you see everywhere else in Cambodia. You want buy something lady? I have your size! You want a scarf? I have t-shirts – $1! Oh well. Given the expenses of the following 3 days, it’s probably for the best we didn’t find anything we wanted. We’d been in touch with a Tuk Tuk driver that we found on Reddit called Mr Lee and organised a 3 day private Tuk Tuk tour for the princely sum of $80. A 3 day ticket for Angkor Wat is $62 and we’d be needing one each. Bye bye surplus…

Mr Lee and his Trusty Tuk Tuk picked us up at 7am sharp and we headed off to see some of the temples further out into the complex. It had been raining heavily all night and the rain showed no signs of stopping as we rolled through the flooded streets. We had enquired at the reception desk as to the possibility of borrowing an umbrella or two but sadly none were available. Luckily when we stopped to purchase our tickets a nice woman was more than happy to relieve the two stupid westerners of $10, in exchange for 2 high-quality-definitely-won’t-fall-apart-in-five-minutes umbrellas. I chose a green one, naturally. No sooner had we parted with our hard earned dosh, the rain fizzled out into a light drizzle. It was looking like the most use we were going to get out of them was going from the ticket office back into the Tuk Tuk. Typical.

Our first stop was Pre Rup, a stepped pyramid style temple built by King Rajendravarman II in 961 AD. Dedicated primarily to the Hindu god Shiva, the laterite and brick structure represents the five mountain peaks of the sacred mountain Mount Meru; the centre of the universe in Hindu mythology. We heaved ourselves up the large limestone steps before exploring the top tier of the structure, occasionally falling into deceptively deep puddles and disturbing the odd bat from inside the stuppas. The best part was that we were completely alone. When Dave had told me we would have to leave that morning at 7am I was not best pleased, but Mr Lee was completely right, we had the whole temple to ourselves. Even the rain had held off while we explored.

Next we headed to East Mebon, another Hindu temple built during the 10^th century. East Mebon was built on a 120 meter wide man-made island on a 2 x 7 kilometre water reservoir called East Baray, and as such was only accessible by boat. Fortunately for us, the reservoir is now dry, and we were free to explore on foot. The second tier has an elephant statue standing guard at each of the four corners so naturally we spent some time visiting each of them so that none of them felt left out.

For the rest of the day, Mr Lee whizzed us around in his Trusty Tuk Tuk to temples that tourists rarely go to. I don’t think we were joined by more than 4/5 people at each site for the whole day. We saw huge trees growing over ancient buildings, an eerie lake with dead trees poking up from underneath the water, intricate carvings, stonework, and statues, oh and I got bitten by ants about 50 times. Dear reader I have never had much of an issue with ants, they are nature’s gardeners, but after being bitten by the big red *bleep*ers 3 times and a tiny black one once, I was starting to get a little bit fed up. Mr Lee naturally thought this was hilarious, explaining to me that they’ll only bite you if you step on them. You try telling them that Mr Lee! I actively avoid the blighters and was still getting injected with formic acid every few hours. It really hurts!

bdr

Happily, the sky opened up once we reached Preah Khan and we were delighted to be able to use our amazing-top-quality-definitely-worth-$5-each umbrellas as we ducked under doorways and scrambled over the ruins. We even saw a really good spider and for our last stop of the day Banteay Srei, the sun came out! Banteay Srei translates roughly as “temple of women” or “temple of beauty” and is one of the more fleshed out of the sites – providing visitors with context via an information centre, and of course the opportunity to purchase tourist toot as well. The temple is built from pink sandstone and with the afternoon sunshine now blazing down on us, it gave the whole complex a golden colouring. The site was re-discovered by French explorer Henri Marchal who, as is so often the case when white people find something they like, promptly chopped a load of bits off and sent it to Paris to be displayed in various museums there. A lot of what he took is still in France and many of the statues that can be seen are reconstructions. As much as I hate to admit it, the statues in museums are probably in much better condition than they otherwise would have been had they been left here. The weather is so changeable, and I can imagine that blistering sunshine one minute followed by monsoon crazy rain the next isn’t exactly conducive to preservation. Sweaty after our adventure, we were glad for the cool breeze that the long ride back to Siem Reap provided.

There isn’t much in the world I am willing to wake up at 4am for and given that I’d done it for Machu Picchu it seemed only fair that Angkor Wat receive the same honour. The night before our first day it had rained for about 10 hours and given that we’re slap bang in the middle of monsoon season, it was likely that we’d have to skip sunrise over Angkor Wat as there isn’t much point when the only thing you’re seeing is various shades of grey. Once again though, and as has been the case for a vast portion of this year, lady luck smiled on us and we awoke to moderately clear skies. I must admit part of me was hoping that when the alarm went off at 4am it would be chucking it down so I could go back to sleep, instead we met Mr Lee outside our hotel just before 5am and we were soon on our way. As we got closer and closer to the site, the traffic became less and less comprised of locals on motorbikes, until we were in a seemingly never-ending motorcade of white people on tuk-tuks heading out to watch the sunrise. We bid au revoir to Mr Lee and followed the steady stream of people heading into Angkor Wat. When Dave visited 7 years ago you entered via the main sandstone causeway, but this seems to be undergoing renovations so we plodded over the odd plastic contraption over the 190m wide moat, which let just enough of the surrounding water over your feet to be annoying, but not quite enough to make you think the whole thing was sinking. Still, we made it over, entered through the gate and there in front of us, surrounded by a sea of inky blue sky was Angkor Wat. Behind us, the moon illuminated the grounds like a spotlight; I have never seen a moon so bright.

We headed down to one of the reflecting pools, passing palm trees and stone towers as we went, joining the already sizeable group of tourists waiting for the perfect picture. As we have travelled this past year, we have constantly been amazed at people’s ability to observe extraordinary phenomenon through a camera lens, instead of, you know, real life, given that they’re actually there experiencing it. By all means take a few pictures, some of the ones we took are actually not too bad, but if you’re going to pay $62 to stare through your phone for 2 hours then there’s this really cool new thing called the internet where if you type in “Angkor Wat Sunrise”, you’re treated to almost 3 million results – much cheaper.  After taking a few moments to laugh at stupid people, we stood and watched the sun rise over the 12^th century temple, appreciating just how lucky we were to be able to see it. As the sun rose and the moon began to disappear, the mist and haze surrounding the temple lifted and the intricacies of the façade’s architecture began to appear, making every moment more magical than the last. In spite of the very loud annoying Irish/American couple to the left of us talking very loudly and annoyingly about camera exposure and night mode settings, the experience left both Dave and I breathless. While the bulk of the other tourists were still watching the sunrise, we took the opportunity to sneak off and enter the temple a bit early to avoid the crowds. We hung around and explored the outer walls until the middle section opened to the public. Climbing in incredibly steep steps we were one of the first to reach the central platform. The views from the top are spectacular, opening out from each side over the Cambodian countryside, the sea of green stretches out for miles, dotted with palm trees and the odd temple stupa. Not even the ever present smell of bats was enough to drag us away from the cool breeze offered at the top of the platform, and we spent a good 30 minutes trying our best to cool down. Despite the early hour, it was setting out to be a spectacularly hot day, the air was incredibly still, and we were constantly chasing the breeze. Descending from the tower, we settled onto a step on the outer wall of the main complex to cool down. Later Dave explained that if I hadn’t got there first (mwahaha) he probably would have proposed there, which is very sweet, but I’m also glad I won’t forever associate our engagement with the lingering smell of bat pee. It truly is an impressive complex and it’s easy to see why it’s often referred to as the 8^th wonder of the world. I’m not sure how the Coliseum made it into the top 7 and Angkor Wat didn’t, but there we go. It’s a very well maintained attraction, there are staff everywhere, ushering tourists away from places they’re not supposed to be, sweeping leaves and debris off the paths, assembling committees to make the smallest of decisions. The French influence is very prevalent here. As the sun rose ever higher and the heat increased, we headed off through the East gate to re-join Mr Lee and continue our adventure…

bty

For the past month or so Dave and I have been volunteering at The Flicks; a community film house catering to tourists and the local expat community in Phnom Penh. For most of the time since the 31^st July we’ve been busy selling tickets, making popcorn, and sitting around reading lots of books. This has been absolutely wonderful and helped our budget to stretch that little bit further, but “Hello reader, today we ate scrambled eggs on toast then worked until 10pm then ordered takeaway and went to bed” x 31 doesn’t make for a particularly interesting read now does it?

Phnom Penh is a city that manages to be completely chaotic and also perfectly laid back at the same time. Once you get the hang of the fact that no one walks anywhere and that the city all but stops between the hours of 11 and 2 to avoid the hottest parts of the day, it’s a perfectly pleasant place to live. I imagine that’s why there’s such a large expat community here. For the most part it’s Americans and Canadians but we’ve met a fair handful of French and English people too. Most people are here to teach English for a year or two or have moved out with a partner and their children, so we’ve had quite a few regulars coming into the cinema during our time here. Most comment on how different Cambodia is compared to when they visited 5/10 years ago, largely because of the huge amount of Chinese infrastructure going up here. This has been a bit of a recurring theme throughout South East Asia and tends to be received differently depending on who you talk to. In Vietnam most people were very against all the “meddling” from Chinese businesses, and certainly in Cambodia the expat community in general also seems very against it. This is largely due to the fact that Chinese investors appeal to Chinese people and Chinese businesses, meaning the money that would normally flow into the local community becomes concentrated in a circle back and forth through China. Chinese tourists stay in Chinese hotels, shop at Chinese shops and eat at Chinese restaurants, all of which are owned and run by Chinese people, who in turn send the profits back home to their families in China. This, in our opinion, comes from what we discussed a few posts ago, about how Chinese tourists tend to be older and visit other countries through state approved organised tour groups, so it’s sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy. Some towns around Cambodia such as Sihanoukville have sadly lost their small town seaside charm in favour of Chinese cash. Corruption is rather more blatant here in general. One morning the water pipe burst at the cinema and despite it being the water company’s responsibility to fix it, the chap they sent out wanted $40 to get the work done. If you’re white here you sort of have to accept that the majority of the time, things are going to cost you a little more than they normally would, even if you’re an expat. We’ve just been chalking it up to the Authentic Genuine Cambodian Experience and trying not to let it jade us too much.

Last week, we’d rather had our fill of not doing very much at all and decided to head out to explore a bit more of Cambodia’s rather dark recent past. The Khmer Rouge ruled Cambodia for just 4 years from 1975 to 1979 but absolutely decimated the country’s population, economy, and development. The leader, Pol Pot, had a vision of extreme social engineering in which the country would be transformed into a communal farming society, shunning city/modern life and technological advances in favour of traditional farming practices and life. One of the most famous prisons used during their rule is S21, locally known as Tuol Sleng after the school that once stood there. Dave had visited before during his trip to Cambodia in 2012 but since then they’ve added a particularly insightful audio guide, so we decided to take the short walk down for a visit one afternoon. Tuol Sleng was one of between 150-200 detention centres throughout Cambodia and it’s estimated that 20,000 people were tortured and killed there. It’s an exceptionally sombre experience, particularly as it is very clearly an old secondary school. The prison is left largely as it was found when the Khmer Rouge fled Phnom Penh after Vietnamese soldiers stormed the city in 1979. This means that bed frames, shackles, prison cells and barbed wire are all as they would have been during this time. The first building you enter consists of 4 floors, most of the rooms contain bed frames and shackles where prisoners were held and tortured. Pictures have been placed on the walls in each of the rooms to show how the prisoner’s body was found when the soldiers first arrived. In some the buildings, you can see the shoddy “cells” that were constructed as more and more prisoners arrived at the prison. Some are simple woods structures with boards that are now collapsing, others are made of brick walls which are now leaning and falling over. Holes were cut between the rooms to allow easier access between the rooms and in order to fit more cells in. As we wandered through the rooms, a huge storm rolled in, providing a rather appropriate back drop to our visit. Thunder rumbled and the rain fell in buckets as the audio-guide took us through room after room of pictures of victims faces, explaining the different methods used for torture. The final room is filled with skulls, all from victims of this terrible place. Visitors are able to make offerings and donations to a small Buddhist shrine which has been set up in this room. As you leave the centre, a small shop has been set up with books and local handicrafts, as well as two stalls at which two survivors of Tuol Sleng were seated, selling books which detail their experiences. Of the 20,000 people who entered Tuol Sleng, there were only 12 known survivors.

The most famous of Phnom Penh’s attractions is Choeung Ek Genocide Centre, commonly known as The Killing Fields. Located around 15 kilometres to the south of Phnom Penh it is the most famous of the mass execution sites set up by the Khmer Rouge. Approximately 1.4 million Cambodians were killed at these sites from 1975 to 1979 and buried in mass graves. The site is very well put together, with an audio guide taking you round the majority of it, pausing at various points to explain significant locations or historical events. A walkway has been set up since Dave visited in 2012, ensuring visitors do not accidentally step on remains which still surface from the mass graves to this day. The buildings which once stood here have all been dismantled as people sought resources after the fall of the Khmer Rouge, but signs have been set up to indicate where the trucks stopped, where the people were held, and where weapons were held. The mass grave sites have been roped off for the most part, however some still remain outside of the current site, buried under decades of earth and covered by lotus fields and water. The centre has chosen to leave these victims to rest there. The land used to be an orchard and as you walk around it is full of life, fruit trees are everywhere, butterflies swoop and glide around the fields, flowers are blooming where the mass graves are, chickens and birds hop around and chase after lizards. In the centre, a large Buddhist Stupa has been constructed to house some of the thousands of bones that were uncovered here. Mostly skulls are laid out over 8 levels but there are some leg and arm bones as well, marked by scientists explaining the cause of death and the age of the victim. As you reach the end of the audio-guide, you are encouraged to consider the world around you and the events currently taking place in Russia, China, The Congo, and other locations. Who is to say that it couldn’t happen where you live?

Having decidedly had our fill of historical sites and monuments to victims of genocide, we decided to take the week off and head to Mondulkiri province in the North East of Cambodia to see some of the more positive locations Cambodia has to offer. Not only is the weather much cooler there owing to the whopping 700m elevation, but it is also home to one of the finest elephant sanctuaries in all of South East Asia – The Elephant Valley Project. Up at the crack of wotsits on Monday morning, we braced ourselves for another near death experience on the roads of South East Asia in a minivan. Surprisingly, the 6 hour journey wasn’t actually that bad. Sure, it was bad by English standards, but it was one of the better journeys by road we’ve had out here. I think we only overtook a car on a blind corner maybe 2/3 times – practically saint like! Our home for the week was the fabulously named Mondulkiri Pizza Bungalows in the provincial capital of Sen Monorom. A small hotel set up with 3 small “lodges” as rooms, as well as a cracking pizza restaurant. After having spent almost a month sharing a house and a bathroom with other volunteers, this place was absolute heaven. It was also cool enough that we turned the fan off in the room a few times. The hotel was home to two gorgeous dogs named Lucy and Serena who quickly became firm friends, sleeping outside our door during the night and dutifully bounding up to greet us whenever we came back. Even Dave loved them.

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Our first day we didn’t do very much of anything other than sleep and appreciate the coolness of the air. The hotel is nestled down by the river, under passion fruit trees and bamboo canes, the perfect location to curl up with a book. The next morning was yet another early start, we headed down to the pick-up point, the aptly named Hefalump Café which serves as a base for the Project but also gives local Bunong minority people a chance to learn hospitality skills and sell handicrafts. We headed off at around 7:45am and joined 6 others – 3 Frogs, 1 Kiwi, 1 Ozzie and a chap from Bristol – for a day of seeing elephants be elephants. Our guide was a local man called Touen who we quickly discovered had a fantastic command of English, as well as a delightfully dry sense of humour. He explained about where the money goes and how they run the centre. It was great to hear that not only does the EVP support elephants but also supports the families of their staff and the local community, running an ambulance service to Phnom Penh as well as providing school supplies for children. There are lots of “white people guilt” projects around in this part of the world but the EVP genuinely seems to have its head and heart in the right place. We were led through dense rainforest to a small clearing by a river where we waited for around 10 minutes before suddenly two huge Indian elephants came plodding through the forest with their Mahouts, entering the stream in front of us and giving us our first glimpses of these majestic creatures. Most of the elephants at the project are either on loan from their owner families who have moved to the city or they are bought/rescued from other facilities. Elephants who are on loan are rented by the EVP for a contracted period of time, at which point either the contract is extended, or the EVP will try and raise funds to purchase the elephant from the owner. We met a total of 4 elephants throughout our day at the EVP, hiking through dense rainforest to observe them in their natural habitat. The EVP prides itself in not allowing touching, riding, or washing the elephants, but you can get about as close to the elephants as you would feel comfortable given that most of them weigh around 3 tonnes. We met Sambo, an elephant who used to give tourists rides around a temple in Phnom Penh, at the medical centre. Her feet are damaged from walking on the concrete every day for 30 years so she has to have medical treatment every day, involving standing in a bucket of Epsom salts and being fed copious amounts of fruit – some of which ends up on her back as she takes water in her trunk and sprays it over her back. We also met Ruby, Doe and Darling. The centre has 10 elephants in total, 9 females and 1 male, though the male cannot be seen at this time of year due to his aggressiveness during the breeding season. I have no words to express how phenomenal and beautiful these animals are. Our day spent with them was absolutely magically, following them through the forest just watching them play and eat and be elephants! It is a day I will never forget for as long as I live and if you are ever in this part of the world, you must absolutely go and visit.

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Our final day of cool weather we took a tuk-tuk tour around the local area to visit a waterfall and see some cracking views out over the rainforest. Our guide picked us up around 8:30 and we headed off to see Bou Sra waterfall. Like many of these places it has a short section of shops after you pay your entrance fee, but we decided 9am was a little early to be sampling passion fruit wine. Heading down the steep path to the waterfall we enjoyed the peace and quiet, the rumble of the water in the distance and the sounds of the forest. The day was a cloudy one and a light drizzle had settled in but we didn’t mind, you take every opportunity to be cold that you can get when you’re here! We soon reached the bottom of the waterfall where the tranquillity continued, for all of 2 minutes before a group of local young people turned on their huge speaker and pumped out “bangin’ tunes” for all to hear. That’s just what we need we thought. Why enjoy the natural sounds of thousands of gallons of water cascading down while birds sing and bugs chirp? Absolutely it requires some enthusiastic techno music. Needless to say, we took a few pictures and quickly made our exit, deciding that 10am was definitely an acceptable time to try some passion fruit wine – yum. Clambering back into the Tuk Tuk our driver pointed out some of the local plants and trees and chatted about deforestation and farming. His English wasn’t brilliant, but we could pretty much follow the gist of what he was saying. Our next stop was a coffee plantation nearer town where we stopped for an early lunch of rice and noodles (makes a nice change!) and we watched as a big black cloud made its way closer and closer to us. We made our exit and headed to our next spot, trying to outrun the rain. As we reached the Sea Forest viewpoint, the heavens opened, and we were treated to a cooling shower before it passed as quickly as it had arrived. The forest here stretches out for miles, as far as the eye can see, and further. You can probably see right into Vietnam on a clear day and if your eyesight is good enough. We mucked about with the various viewpoint props they’ve got set up there before heading back to the hotel, bidding our driver a fond farewell. No sooner had we settled back in the room, the rain started. The rain didn’t stop until we left the following morning. Relentless. This meant that sadly we had to have pizza for dinner as there was no way we were going out! What a shame.

The next morning, we said our farewells to our canine pals and Mondulkiri province. It was great to get out of the city and stretch our legs a bit after almost a month of being cooped up at The Flicks. We’re working this weekend and then heading down to the coastal town of Kep on Monday where we hope the rain might ease off a little. The countdown to the Singapore Grand Prix starts now…