Month: September 2019

Sling when you’re winning

Our final day in Cambodia was a laid back affair save for a quick trip around the market to stock up on some last minute souvenirs. It still felt as though we’d only just got here, and yet all too soon it was time to head to the airport for our flight to Singapore. Unfortunately, by the time we took off in the early evening a sizeable storm had rolled in, so the first half-hour of the flight was borderline terrifying as the plane shook and rattled in the heavy turbulence and lightning flashed through the cabin, which had been kept dark by the crew for an unnervingly long time. When at last the lights came on, the seatbelt sign was turned off and Katy had stopped swearing, she vowed never ever ever to get on an aircraft ever again (which should make for a very interesting series of blogs as we travel home by road across the Eurasian continent).

Fortunately, the rest of the flight was a relatively smooth affair and there was a palpable release of tension from the entire plane when we finally touched down at Changi International at the very eastern tip of the island city state. Going from Cambodia to Singapore meant that in the course of the evening we had travelled from South East Asia’s poorest country to its wealthiest. Per capita, the typical Singaporean is 45 times richer than the average Cambodian, and as such the taxi ride through the streets of the city from the airport to our Airbnb was like being driven across another planet. For one thing, the roads were about as 2D as it’s possible for roads to be!

We arrived at our Airbnb just north of the city centre and met Ken, our host for the weekend, as well as his 6 cats who were all very keen to explore the new smells and toys (our luggage tags) that had wandered into their home. It was now gone 11pm and we initially felt a little guilty that Ken had had to stay up so late to let us in, that was until we found out that he was still waiting on some more guests who had booked his other room. Our room was a spacious and luxurious 10th floor apartment annexe featuring a private bathroom with a loo that can handle toilet paper (being 45x wealthier you’re your neighbours definitely has its perks), shared kitchen, British plugs and air conditioning. Oh, and they drive on the left here and understand the principles of forming queueing! We like Singapore!

The following morning, we awoke giddy and excited for what the day might bring and made our way into the city centre to collect our Grand Prix tickets. We had treated ourselves to ‘weekend premier walkabout’ tickets (read: premium economy), which gave us access to all 4 viewing zones around the circuit. We couldn’t enter the grandstands, but we could watch the action from any of the numerous make-shift terraces that lined the side of the track. Our plan for Friday then was to explore the circuit, trying out the different viewpoints to see which would be the best for the race on Sunday. We still had a few hours to kill between collecting our tickets and the gates to the circuit being open though, so we went off in search of a spot of lunch and to explore the city.

We wound up having a lunch of falafel-filled pita breads in a covered food-court near the central business district, before heading north towards the circuit through the maze of skyscrapers following the banks of the Singapore river and up to the historic Anderson Bridge. Here we crossed the river and excitedly made our way through the gates and the security checkpoints and into the circuit. Where we entered was at the far end from the pit straight in a section where the track loops around the grounds of the Singapore Cricket Club (Ah, the relics of Empire!). The pitch had been converted in to essentially a festival site for the weekend, complete with a stage flanked by big screens, shops and stalls, food vendors and bars, row upon row of portaloos and a marquee for dolling out complimentary (sic) spray-on tattoos which Katy insisted we get (eyeroll). At the time that we were exploring the circuit there was a Porsche Super Cup race happening, one of several support races taking place across the weekend in between the F1 sessions, so we had the opportunity to try out some of the viewpoints from which we might potentially watch the Grand Prix. Most were nothing special, lacking either a big screen or a decent view of the track so we continued on through the circuit towards the pit straight down by Marina Bay. All around us the sounds of the Porsches blasting  through the city streets filled the air, their unmuted engine noises echoing off the surrounding skyscrapers and periodically drowning out the prattling of the Australian presenters over the PA system, who were busily hyping up the weekend to come (personally, I didn’t fully understand the need to sell me on an event that I’m already attending, but maybe I’m being too British about the whole thing. Leopards and spots etc…).

My favourite part of this hype building was the caveats they had to add to the ‘Night Race’ selling point of the weekend. When Singapore first hosted a Grand Prix in 2008, it was F1’s first and only Night Race and as such it made this USP front and centre of the marketing. In the subsequent 12 years though, the Bahrain and Abu Dhabi grand Prix’s have become ‘night’ and ‘day/night’ races respectively, meaning that now Singapore has to advertise itself as “F1’s only fully-at-night street-circuit race in Asia!”. Not quite as catchy.

We made our way to the pit straight and found an elevated viewing platform overlooking the last corner in the shadow of the Singapore Flyer, the huge Ferris wheel that’s taller even than the London Eye. From here we could see the back-end of the main straight, the pit entrance and several of the garages. There was also a big-screen on the opposite side of the track so we wouldn’t miss out on any of the action that was happening elsewhere. From there we watched the first practice session of the day, the first chance for us to see the F1 cars up close at full racing speed. The close-quarters of a street circuit make for a very different viewing experience from purpose-built circuits like Silverstone. The cars fly past mere milometers from the walls and only a matter of feet from the stands and the hemmed-in nature of the city streets contains the sound and makes it reverberate through the scaffolding that holds up the temporary stands. The sensation of watching and feeling the cars go past is truly visceral, and the immersion is dampened only by the heavy-duty catch fencing separating you from the track which has the annoying habit of drawing the camera’s focus every time you try to take a picture (It also, you know, protects you from being hit by debris from a 200mph shunt should the worst happen, so on balance Its probably best that its there).

Between 1st and 2nd Practice we had about two and a half hours to kill, so we headed across Marina Bay to Gardens by the Bay, perhaps Singapore’s most unique and iconic landmark. The complex is massive and covers much of the artificial peninsula which makes up the southern bank of the bay. It features numerous indoor and outdoor gardens including an Eden Project-like enclosed Cloud Forest, all centred around the ‘super-tree grove’, an amalgamation of towering metal trees up which are grown orchids, climbers and myriad other flowing plants. The aim of Gardens by the Bay is to serves as a demonstration space for pioneering far greater and more creative incorporation of green-space into urban planning and it can’t be denied that it makes an impressive and inspiring job of it.

You need the best part of a day (and a sizeable wad of cash) to visit the whole site, so as we only had a few hours we settled just for visiting the super tree grove. The grove is arranged with the largest tree closely encircled by six smaller ones from which a walkway is suspended about 2/3rds of the way up. The path follows a semi-circular route around the central tree and can be accessed for 8 SGD (about £5) each. The view from the path in the dwindling light was great, especially as the LED lights built into the trees came on and made the towering sprawl of the metal branches glow shades of green, pink and blue.

After 15 minutes or so on the path being gently ushered along by the attendants, we wound our way down and grabbed some snacks from the nearby food court before plonking ourselves on an open grassy area to watch the light display on the trees as the night descended. At 7:45 the light display began and the spotlights and LEDs around the super-trees began blinking and flashing a whole spectrum of colours to a medley of classic and contemporary music from all over Asia. For 15 minutes the display went on whilst we lay on the grass completely transfixed. It was totally mesmerising and thoroughly engrossing and exactly the sort of thing needed in a country where seemingly all psychedelic substance use carries the death penalty.

The light-show over we headed back across the bay to the circuit for second practice, this time finding a spot up near the first turn where the pit exit re-joins the racetrack. This was the first time we had seen the cars run at night under the glare of the massive network of spotlights suspended from overhead gantries. Seeing the cars under the glow of the artificial light was really cool and the spot we had chosen was a great place for photos as the cars moved slowly enough as they came out of the pits that the camera could keep up, but not so slowly that it focussed on the fence instead (most of the time). Once practice was over we headed back to our Airbnb, thoroughly pooped after a long day of walking, according to our pedometers, the best part of 15 miles around the city.

Fortunately for our sleepy minds and weary legs, the following day there was no activity on track of note until about 5pm where there was the final practice session before the evenings qualifying. In the meantime, we had a very leisurely lie-in before heading into town to engage in perhaps the most cliché touristy activity it’s possible to engage in whilst in Singapore; sipping a Singapore Sling at Raffles.

Dear reader; if you, like us, are not the type who was raised in a modern, dense, tightly packed super-city, then you might find navigating such a place a tad difficult. I normally have a pretty good sense of direction but soon found myself completely thrown by the warren of tunnels which double as shopping malls under the city and that connect the metro stations to all of the surrounding buildings. Eventually, after inadvertently stumbling in to the foyer of the building we had picked up our tickets from the day before, we found our way out above ground on a street which hadn’t been cordoned off as a result of the grand prix (who’s idea was it to host a grand prix here? Grumble grumble) and made our way out to Raffles Hotel.

Around the back of the building we headed up to the Long Bar and joined the queue of other punters who had had the same idea as Jackie Boyce. After about 15 minutes we were invited in by a very dapper barman and shown to our seats at a table flanked by two other couples also sporting F1 attire. In fact, nearly everybody in there was wearing a lanyard with a Grand Prix pass attached, so at least we didn’t look too out of place (aside from being a good 20 years younger than any of the other patrons).

We ordered our Singapore slings and tucked into the hessian bag filled with complimentary peanuts that each table is provided with. Part of the fun of the experience supposedly is to eat the peanuts and drop the shells on to the floor, all whilst being fanned from above by leaf-shaped bamboo paddles. Rich people are weird. The inside of the bar is, as you’d expect, very tasteful, sporting wide leather chairs, marble-topped tables with wooden trim, mahogany and stain-glass bay fittings and a white and black chequered marble floor partially obscured by peanut shells. The paddle fans wave gently at the top of the room, though this is just for ambience now and powered by an electric motor, the heavy lifting of the cooling instead provided by formidable A/C. There was a little wait for our slings, which were being produced 8 at a time by a dedicated mixologist with what must have been the world’s largest cocktail mixer. When they arrived, we were almost bowled over by how much alcohol was in them, they certainly hadn’t scrimped on the booze which, for £25 each, is the least you would expect (Thanks Jackie :D).

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The Singapore Sling was developed to look like a fruit juice so that ladies in the early 20’s could have an alcohol during a time when it was uncouth for them to be seen drinking. Seems to me though that the stated purpose of such a drink is completely defeated if just one contains so much booze that anyone can tell instantly from how you’re walking that you’re somewhat inebriated. After making the most of our slings we staggered out of the long bar back into the heat of the day and worked our way to the  circuit, the mix of heat and alcohol giving us absolute clarity of purpose that what we needed next was ice-cream!

We again worked our way down to the Singapore flyer next to which stood a highly-recommended gelato bar with a mouth-watering range of options. I had Apple Crumble and Salted Caramel and Katy had Banoffee and Red Berry Pavlova. It was damn expensive, about £12 for both of us, but it was quite possibly the nicest ice cream we’d ever had and, in the heat and humidity of the late afternoon, worth every penny.

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Next up was another practice session and we chose a spot near to where we were anywhere which had free seating for us non-grandstand plebs so we watched half the session from there before taking a ride on the Singapore Flyer, timing it just right so that we saw the last 15 minutes of the session from on board the giant Ferris wheel as well as the sunset as we went over the top. As the flyer is closed off to the general public and open only to grand-prix ticket holders it was practically deserted, and we ended up with a whole air conditioned capsule (designed for 20 people) all to ourselves. The ride takes about 30 minutes in all and offers gorgeous views of the city and of the racetrack, much of which can be seen from the top as it winds its way along the bay weaving between the buildings. The fading light, the glow the racetrack and the neon illumination of the skyscrapers of the CBD made for an absolutely stunning view which only got more beautiful as the wheel slowly turned and the night descended. Singapore really is a spectacular city and the vantage point our private cabin gave us really brought it home how lucky we are to have the opportunity we have had this year to see all the things we have seen and go to all the places we have been.

Once we left the Flyer, we had about an hour to kill before Qualifying started and, expecting the circuit to be quite busy, we made our way up to the same stand we had watched the second practice from the previous night from to claim our spot. The Qualifying hour proved to be one of the most exciting part of the weekend with 5 drivers in with a realistic shout of pole position and the climax of the session coming down to the wire. As it was, Ferrari’s Charles Leclerc took the top spot on the grid much to the approval of the massive Ferrari fan base in the crowds. The excitement over for the day we headed back home again eagerly anticipating the race the following day.

Sunday dawned and again we took our time getting up, hoping to conserve as much energy as we could for later to attend the after race show down at the cricket ground. A healthy late breakfast of Subway sandwiches and we were on our way, deciding this time to come into the track from the south to take advantage of the pleasant walk from the bayfront MRT along the banks of Marina Bay towards the bridge into the circuit.

Expecting a particularly busy day we had made plans to get to our chosen seating area with plenty of time to spare to ensure a good view, so we headed along the path following the back of the pit straight leading up to the first corner. Along the way we found ourselves in the midst of a large crowd of people hanging out by the entrance to the paddock where all the teams have their garages set up. It quickly became apparent why all these people were here; there was a steady stream of drivers, team big-wigs and other celebrities making their way from the large hotel complex just outside the circuit to the garages. We stood a little back from the crowd where we could get a good look at (and photo of) those approaching and over the course of about an hour saw around a third of the drivers, including Katy’s favourite Valtteri Bottas, as they made their way to the track. We’re not normally ones to get swept up in this kind of celebrity adulation but it was weirdly compelling to watch small groups approaching from the distant walkway and see if anyone we recognised was going to come past. It was a really fun thing to have stumbled across, especially as the crowd was by-and-large well behaved and most of the drivers were happy to take the time to sign a few autographs and snap a few selfies. Katy even managed to get a wink out of new Red Bull driver Alex Albon as he made his way past, I might have to have words with him.

Once we’d had our fill of being star-struck we continued up to the ‘Fan Village’ just to the north of the circuit where Katy got another spray on tattoo (eyeroll) and I refilled the water bottles in the free water dispenser located far away enough from the track that it was  (almost) not worth the effort and settling for the over-priced bottles available from numerous vendors in much more convenient locations. After that, and with about 3 hours to go until the start of the race we made our way to the viewing platform, sticking with our chosen spot from the previous day on the inside of turn 2. There were still support races taking place, so we had that to entertain us whilst we waited, as well as interviews and race discussion being broadcast over the PA system. All of a sudden, the banality of passing the time until the race started was dramatically interrupted by a car spinning off and slamming into the wall just 20 feet down the track from where we were sat. Despite the deafening crunch of the impact against the concrete barrier the driver was fine and climbed out of his wreck with a wave and to a round of applause from the crowd. It’s been less than a month since Antoine Hubert tragically lost his life in a Formula 2 race in Belgium, itself a support race to the F1 race that weekend, so seeing a driver walk away unscathed from an accident, even a relatively minor one like this one, is a great relief to everyone.

As the marshals cleared away the damaged car and repaired the barrier, the big screen opposite continued the running 3 day hype-train by talking about upcoming acts on the various stages around the circuit and encouraging the fans to share their pictures on social media, when suddenly the picture I took of Alex Albon winking at Katy and that she had posted on Instagram appeared. This was all getting out of hand now, definitely time to have words!

It was a good job we did get to the viewpoint when we did though, as bout half an hour later and with still a couple of hours to go before the start of the race it was pretty much full up. Next up was the drivers parade where the drivers are driven around in open-top cars to wave at the crowd like a procession of former US presidents. This used to be a slightly less glamorous affair, with all the drivers packed on to the back of a low-loader and driven slowly around the circuit together. Jenson Button once said this was his and many other drivers’ favourite part of the weekend, it being the only time the drivers were together in one place without the media or team handlers monitoring every word they said. In fact, the drivers enjoyed the opportunity for a chat amongst themselves so much that they invariably forgot to wave at the crowd, so Formula One Management (understandably valuing public engagement more than the driver’s social lives) had to separate them all like naughty school children.

I would’ve loved to have included more pictures from the drivers parade but unfortunately for the duration of the parade our camera developed a particularly keen fascination with the fence, so we now have a lot of nicely framed and well balanced shots of metal fences with blurry men in cars in the background. Brilliant.

With the driver’s parade having passed us I set off to get us some sandwiches and some beers for the race from the 7/11 located inside the grounds of the Singapore Flyer. Being the cheap-skates we are, we had clocked the previous day that the 7/11 was there and was selling beers for about a third of the price of the bars around the circuit. Presumably some lawyer somewhere was unsuccessful in their exclusivity negotiation and now the organisers were stuck trying very hard not to drawer any attention to the fully stocked convenience store inside the circuit grounds.

We now had only an hour to go until the race start and the buzz was really building in the now completely packed stands. Soon enough, to cheers and applause, the cars started making their way out of the pits to head to the grid ready for the start of the race. The national anthem played, the silly overdramatic intro music sounded, the commentators did their run down of the drivers and teams, the cars came around on the formation lap and the lined up for the start and then, at 8:10 in the evening, finally, it was lights out!

All 20 cars blasted past us making their way through the first sequence of corners, the sound like a vast swarm of angry miss-firing hornets fading into the distance in the city before slowly building up again as the field came around for a second lap. There was a long night ahead of us, 61 laps in all, each lasting around 1 minute and 50 seconds. For the drivers, this is the most physically demanding race of the years, the tight twisty circuit requiring maximum focus and the high humidity draining their strength. Throughout the course of the race they can expect to lose around 3kg of fluids in sweat alone. My 10 year old self might think differently but; rather them than me! Singapore is not generally the most exciting of race of the year, the circuit not lending itself to overtaking or close racing, though it can have its moments. Watching the race live however is a different thing; the lights, the sound, the smell and the atmosphere in the stands all make It so that even an otherwise dull race can be thoroughly engrossing.

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What really strikes you about watching a race live rather than on TV is the lingering consequences of the things that happen. If a driver locks up a tyre going into a corner, they carry on and the TV coverage follows them, but the cloud of smoke hangs in the air for ages afterwards slowly wafting the stench of burned rubber into the crowd. The same goes for the sparks and smoke thrown up by the underside of the car as they bottom out at high speed, or if a piece of bodywork comes off; provided it isn’t on the racing line, it will just be left there until it’s safe for a marshal to retrieve it. Another thing that the TV doesn’t do justice to at all is the sound; not just the outright volume, but the texture and richness of it. It’s only when you are here that you realise how heavily the broadcast sound is compressed and is lacking the dynamic range that comes from occasional misfires, the whirring of the turbo and the surprisingly loud and guttural fluttering sound a car makes as it goes across the kerbs.

The most dramatic moment from our vantage point came towards the end of the race as Daniil Kvyat attempted to make a late pass on Kim Räikkönen coming in to the first corner. The two banged wheels and went wide across the entrance of turn 2 right in front of us, breaking Kimi’s suspension and forcing him to retire the car right there on track. There was a slightly surreal moment of disconnect as both Katy and I were watching the big-screen at the time, we saw the collision happen and then a split second later made the connection that what we were watching on screen was actually happening right in front of us. Kimi climbed out of his stricken car and ran across the circuit towards us, much to the approval of the crowd around us and after a brief safety car period to move the wreck, the race was underway again.

Before we knew it though the race was over, with Sebastian Vettel winning for Ferrari (boooooo) to a thunderous cacophony of fireworks and music. After the race had concluded the track was opened up for the crowd to walk along, kind of the equivalent of an authorised pitch invasion. It’s a nice opportunity for the fans to get down on to the track and up-close to the pit garages, and it also served as a way to aid the tens of thousands of people (the overall race day attendance was about 260,000) making their way from the stands around the circuit to the main stage where the Red Hot Chilli Peppers were playing the final musical set of the weekend. Pumped full of adrenaline and alcohol we set off on this journey around the track, taking the opportunity to have a sneak peak at the garage and high-fiving the enthusiastic ushers and marshals who were guiding us along, cheering, signing and generally just having a really great time.

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By the time we had made the 2 mile walk down the track to the main arena though the alcohol and adrenaline had worn off, the humidity had got to us and the weariness of a very long and action-packed weekend had taken over us, so we made a token show of seeing the Red Hot Chilli Pepers then made our way out of the arena and back to our Airbnb.

The race may not have been a classic, but it was a wonderful experience being there, and it was a real pleasure visiting this stunning city-state. The organisation and execution of the whole weekend was superb, and you can’t help but admire the logistical finesse involved in pulling off an event of this scale in the heart of such a busy city. Singapore gets a big 10/10 from us and it’s a place we would love to visit again someday in the future.

Farewell Cambodia – Part 2

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!

 

Farewell Cambodia – part 1

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 12th century during the Khmer empire, for others it’s Pub Street, built during the 21st 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 10th 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 12th 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 8th 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

Kep calm and Carry On

After saying our goodbyes to The Flicks, our fellow volunteers and, of course, the cats, we made our way north across Phnom Penh to the central post office to get the bus to Kep. Despite being a tourist hot-spot, kep is best served not by any of the local bus companies or tour operators, but rather by the fleet of minivans operated by the Cambodian post office.

Our tuk-tuk dropped us off outside the central post office; a tall French art-deco style mansion with yellow walls and white trim windows and balcony. We weren’t totally sure where to go at this point, but luckily there was a small gaggle of white people sat on the steps outside with luggage in hand, so we went and stood near them. It’s a sad reflection on the realities of travelling that you instinctively develop a race-based herding mentality, but it does generally get you where you want to go. As we sat down, we were enthusiastically greeted by a fellow traveller with a strong American accent who asked us where in the UK we were from. We have learned from past experience that to anyone who isn’t British the answer ‘Bath’ will drawer blank stares, so generally we will say ‘near Bristol’ or just ‘the south’ if that doesn’t ring any bells.

‘Near Bristol’ we said, to which she quickly responded, ‘oh yes, where abouts?’. Turns out that not only had she heard of Bath, but she was in fact English, having been born and raised in Kent but having moved to the US as a child. She was lovely, and it was all well and good, but her claim to be English was undermined somewhat by the fact that she had failed to pick up on the ‘It’s 6:30am and we don’t want to engage anybody in conversation’ expressions that we had been wearing since dragging ourselves up at 5:30am.

Soon enough we were loaded on to the van and I had the luxury of my knees being wedged in against the metal frame of the seat in front for our 5 hour journey down to Kep. I was a little surprised when the journey said it was 5 hours, Kep is only a little over half as far away from Phnom Penh as Sen Monorom and on the map the road is flat and straight all of the way. Maybe because it’s a postal van it makes loads of stops? Who knows.

Well we found out soon enough; the road (which goes via the port town of Kampot and hence is heavily used by lorries and trucks) is mostly a pot-hole ridden dirt road, rarely permitting speeds above 30mph. For 4 hours then we bumped and bounced and rattled and rolled all the way to Kampot where the bus offloaded most of the passengers including our pond-straddling friend, and we then continued on our way for a further half an hour, arriving in Kep a little ahead of schedule at about midday. The road from Kampot to Kep was fortunately somewhat better that the one from Phnom Penh, and once we actually entered Kep we found ourselves on a beautifully smooth two lane dual carriageway which was completely deserted. It says something about Cambodia’s infrastructure priorities that a small seasonal seaside town has far better roads that the route connecting the countries capital city to one of its major ports. I don’t know what that something is, but it definitely says something.

Whilst we were making our way down to Kep, Katy got a message through from her Cambodian phone provider that our credit had expired, and we now had no data available. This despite supposedly having money in our account until the 6th of September. Grumble grumble. Anyway, this left us in the rather awkward position of being left at a seemingly deserted post office in the pouring rain with no internet and no phone and no way to access the contact information for our hotel which we would need to show to a Tuk Tuk driver to get us there. Not that they were available, we seemed to have been dropped on the only street in all of Cambodia not teeming with Tuk Tuks…

So, there was nothing else for it. Once the rain had eased from torrential to merely heavy, Katy very kindly volunteered to take one for the team and look after the bags under the awning of the post office whilst I ventured off to look for a shop selling mobile credit. Once we had successfully topped up the phone we ventured down towards the seafront where there was a small café to grab some lunch and watch the islands over the bay disappear and reappear again from behind the rainclouds. Afterwards we popped across the road to negotiate a Tuk Tuk to take us to our hotel. After spending a month sharing a flat and sleeping in a hard bed with only a fan to keep us cool, we decided to push the boat out and treat ourselves to somewhere a little special. With it being the off season, most of the local hotels were offering their rooms at very discounted rates, so we were able to book ourselves a room at Villa Kep Resort where we had an absolutely gorgeous lakeside villa in a secluded jungle setting, complete with onsite restaurant, bar, pool and spa.

We found out very quickly why we got the room so cheap though, the rain continued unrelenting for another 36 hours and not letting up until the morning of our second full day at the resort. No matter though, we had a lovely time relaxing on the patio outside our villa watching the rain, reading and trying out some of the cocktails that the flamboyant Finish owner Juha treated us to by way of apology for the internet being a bit dodgy.

As the weather broke (i.e. it rained intermittently rather than constantly) on the second day we thought it best we take the opportunity to get out and do something, opting for a tour of the nearby ‘La Plantation’ a Belgian-owned organic farm that grows Kampot Pepper and also works as a community development project supporting local schools and providing training opportunities. The farm is located about a half-hour’s drive north of our hotel along a series of what our driver described as ‘3D roads’ which circumnavigated a large artificial lake constructed by the Khmer Rouge. Just one of the numerous failed water management projects that still litter the country. Upon arrival we took a short walk to a large wooden stilted building from where we were taken on a tour around the farm to see the pepper plantations. As well as pepper, other crops grown on site including pineapple, lemon grass and dragon fruit. Afterwards we returned to the wooden building where we had an opportunity to try a range of the peppers grown at the farm, ranging from mild salty blends to full on face-melting spicy varieties. Unbeknownst to us, the varieties of pepper you typically find for sale -black, red, green and white- are all from the same plant, the colour and flavour are determined by when the pepper is picked and how it is processed.

After we sampled the peppers we relaxed with a coffee and watched the rainclouds as they rolled over the landscape. The view from the stilted building was fantastic; right out in the countryside with farmlands and the occasional wooden hut in the foreground and jungle covered mountains lining the lake in the distance. Once we had suitably cleared our pallets from all the pepper we’d eaten, we went to grab some lunch at the on-site restaurant (which involved plenty more pepper). We headed back to our hotel shortly after and continued the arduous task of not doing very much at all for the rest of the day.

Another day of heavy rain the following day meant that the rest of our time in Kep was rather uneventful and so we headed on back to Phnom Penh very refreshed but itching to get out and see more sights at our next main stop in Battambang. For the return bus journey, we opted to travel by coach; more expensive and more time consuming than the postal van, but we hoped a larger vehicle would provide a smoother ride over the ‘3-D’ road and they did a pickup directly from our hotel. Whilst it was indeed the case that the larger vehicle provided a smoother ride,the added comfort was more than ff-set by the exceptionally annoying ageing hippie who sat on the seats next to us and bent my ear all the way to Phnom Penh about how were all slaves of the global financial elite, how we’re being dumbed down by fluoride in the water, how the Jews run Hollywood to serve their agenda, how JFK was assassinated by the illuminati and how people in LA are all phonies. It was absolute hell; like sitting next to an un-mutable tape-recording of me from 10 years ago. By the end of the journey I was closer to buying a packet of cigarettes that I have been at any point in the last 5 years. Katy helped by sticking her headphones in and laughing at me.

Once the ordeal was over, we made our way to our hostel for the night before swinging by The Flicks again to check in on our former colleagues and catch up on the latest gossip. We set off home in time to watch the qualifying and to get an early night ready for our bus to Battambang the following morning.

Dear reader, it seems to me that during the course of a 9 month globetrotting adventure, the laws of probability determine that, at some point, we would have a pleasant experience whilst travelling by bus. Well, the day we travelled to Battambang was not that day, we were wedged, along with another pair of travellers, on to the back row of a ‘VIP limousine’  (minibus) with lacklustre air-conditioning and barely any room to move for all of 6 hours, our only rest bite being a 20 minute stop halfway through where we could unfold ourselves from seats and check ourselves for blood clots. Suddenly the awful American nutjob didn’t seem quite so awful. Finally arriving in Battambang and falling out of the back of the bus was one of the most pleasant experiences of our lives, especially as the bus stopped within easy walking distance of our hostel and soon enough, we were able to spread ourselves across a large bed in an air conditioned room.

For the next few nights we would be staying at ‘Here be Dragons Hostel’. Sadly, there are no actual dragons, just a very cheap and pleasant hostel run by about 40 or 50 French people. After a pleasant meal in the attached restaurant where we made plans for the coming days we settled down to watch the grand prix. The next day we hired one of the local tuk-tuk to drivers called ‘DJ’ to go on a little tour first to the Bamboo Train, a well-known local tourist trap, and then on to the wonderfully named Bat Cave Mountain.

The Bamboo train or ‘norri’ is a local-run tourist attraction that follows a short section of the railway line just south of the city. Each train consists of a large bamboo platform that sits atop of a pair of railway bogeys and is powered by a motorbike engine fitted to the back and operated with a short pole. The practice started in the 80’s, locals fashioning the little trains to run along the disused railway line to get from the villages to the city. When two trains meet face to face, one of the trains is simply dismantled and reassembled once the other has passed. Today the line has been restored as part of China’s grand railway vision for South East Asia, but it is used infrequently by actual trains, so the bamboo trains still run as means of extracting money from silly westerners.

We paid our $10 and hoped aboard the bamboo platform which sits about a foot above the tracks and were soon on our way, hurtling along through the Cambodia countryside at up to 35mph. The ride is juddery and noisy and the feeling of being completely exposed on what is essentially a giant motorised tea-tray is a little alarming at first, but the experience is totally unique, a great laugh and wonderfully Cambodian. We rode along for about 20 minutes before arriving at a small village straddling the railway line where we quickly and politely ushered into a shopping opportunity by a young local woman. Whilst our train was disassembled and turned around for the return trip, we enjoyed a beer and some fruit kindly provided by one of the other locals before both being talked in to buying some silly shirts and being tagged with complimentary ‘I’m a gullible tourist’ bracelets. The return trip was largely the same, although this time our ‘driver’ put his foot down to escape the rain clouds chasing us up the track, and we arrived back at the station and dove in to the tuk tuk just in time to avoid the rain.

DJ then took us off to our next stop at Phnom Sampeau, a pair of mountains that are home to ‘the killing cave’ and ‘the bat cave’ from which the tourist name is derived. DJ parked up just by the sheer cliff of the taller northern mountain, next to where an 80 foot statue of the buddha is currently being carved out. From there he led us on foot up the steady concrete roadway which split at the base of the short ridge between the two peaks. We followed the left hand path heading out on to the southern face of the mountain where we entered the Killing cave, yet another of the myriad mass graves that blight Cambodia. The cave was used by the Khmer Rouge to dump bodies through a small natural skylight and in total between 7 and 10 thousand people met their end here. The cave now has steps allowing access to a small shrine at the bottom, and outside a temple and numerous monuments to the deceased have been erected. From outside the cave there is a fantastic view of the surrounding landscape, a pan-cake flat patchwork of paddy fields and palm trees punctured with a smattering of limestone mountains.

We then headed across the ridge to the large pagoda on the summit of the northern peak where DJ took us to several great secluded vantage points for overlooking the nearby scenery. Some of these views were spectacular and we would probably have hung around savouring them for longer had the local monkey troops not shown such a keen interest in relieving us of our belongings. Cheeky buggers.

The main attraction was still yet to come though, so we descended the stairs along the eastern face of the mountain and came out nearby to the tuk tuk again. DJ pointed us in the direction of a good bar and said he’d pick us up in about hour or so, so off we went to the roof of ‘the bat pub’ and made ourselves comfortable.

About 45 minutes later from a large opening on the side of the mountain, a swarm of bats came flooding out of the cave. For more than half an hour, thousands upon thousands of Asian Wrinkle Lipped bats poured out every minute forming a meandering snake across the sky as they headed out for the evenings hunt. The sight was absolutely breath-taking and like nothing we’d ever seen before. The sheer number of bats and how they moved together as a winding column across the sky was truly surreal, at a distance their mass was like a single organism, the bats weaving and reacting to each other almost as one. We could have watched it all night, but the light was fading, and it was getting harder and harder to see the emerging bats, so we descended back down the stairs and met up again with DJ to head on back into town.

The following day we booked ourselves on to a walking tour around the city. This was something of a novelty in SEA where walking tours (for understandable weather related reasons) haven’t really taken off, but as is well known to all those who read this blog we love a walking tour, so the opportunity to partake in one for the first time in months was too good to pass up. The tour didn’t start until 4pm though (for understandable weather related reasons), so we largely mooched about on the terrace reading before being picked up by our guide Saruon.

The tour started with a walk to the statue of Lok Ta Dambong Khra Nhuong (try saying that 5 times after you’ve had a few) whilst Saruon gave us a little history lesson about Battambang (pronounced ‘Bat-dum-bong’). The city straddles the Sangkae river which flows into Ton Le Sap, the huge lake the dominates the heart of the country. The city was established during the Khmer Empire in the 11th century as a trading post, sitting as it does slap-bang in the centre of the countries’ most productive rice-growing region. The old town on the western bank of the Sagkea traces much of its modern history back to the French colonial period, and the city today has wide boulevards and row upon row of tall, two story terraced buildings complete with balconies, bay windows and large awnings overhanging the pavement below. The new town on the eastern bank on the other hand was almost exclusively built in the second half of the 20th Century after Cambodia’s independence, giving the city something of a dual personality. The city was less affected by the Khmer Rouge than much of the rest of country. Save for being forcibly evacuated, the city was left mostly untouched. Battambang remained off-limits to tourists until the late 90’s however as the remnants of the Khmer Rouge continued to fight UN forces and the fledgling Kingdom of Cambodia army, even managing to take the city for a short time in 1996.

Soon enough we had arrived at Lok Ta Dambong Khra Nhuong, a large jet-black statue of a man sat in an up-right lotus position holding an urn atop which is balanced a large stick. Around the base were sellers offering flowers and other more unsettling trinkets (including a whole roasted pig) that could be offered in prayer to this local idol. The statue is of the mythical king Khra Nhuong who supposedly lost his very important stick in the area and hence gave the city the name of Battambang which literally translates as “lost his stick”.

We love Cambodia.

We then moved on to cross the river into the old town where we were approached by a monk who spoke briefly to Saruon before asking us if we would be willing to volunteer an hour or so to help trainee monks with their English at the nearby university. The setup fell a little like a scam at first, but it sounded intriguing and we gave the monk the benefit of the doubt (he was a monk after all, and he did have a very official looking lanyard!). We were very glad we went along with it though, it turned out to be a really wonderful experience! We walked across town with Saruon to the Monk’s University on the grounds of Damray Sor Pagoda. Here we were introduced to 3 apprentice monks and a young female student of the university who walked us around the pagoda taking it in turns to be our tour guide, talking us through the statues and murals that decorate the pagoda including the interior which is not usually open to the public. After we had finished, we were asked to score the students who had guided us and to give feedback to the group and to their teacher, the Monk who had originally approached us in the street. For our time, the monks presented us with a gift of a traditional Khmer scarf and a couple of books each. It was a really wonderful and rewarding experience and it was nice to do something beyond the usual tourist activities that really engaged with the local community. After we had finished, we continued with our now somewhat delayed tour with Saruon taking us up through the old town to the central market where we had the opportunity to try some local food before finally retiring to a small bar for a well earned drink and some food.

And that about wrapped up our time in Battambang, a town which left a really positive impression on us during our time there. The following day we had a lazy day save for getting involved with the quiz night the hostel was running (2nd place by 2 points, curse you double landlocked Lichtenstein!!!!). Next up we head northeast to Siem Reap to visit Angkor. I suspect that might be a long blog too!