This is the tough part

“Free at last, Free at last, Thank God almighty we are free at last.”

― Martin Luther King, Jr.

Wednesday March 20 2013 - 1145 a.m.

Well I'm off the boat and on my own at last. Not that I am complaining though. I really did enjoy the boat. Very comfortable quarters, Fantastic staff and even if I at times disdain my fellow tourists, my boat mates were a great group. Everyone was friendly to a fault and didn't monopolize the guide or the groups time. Welll, maybe Annalise did a little, but maybe that was because she reminded me of myself in some ways.

Right now I am at the hotel I'll be staying at overnight, before heading to other pastures, greener or otherwise. It is a hotel that was built in the (maybe) 1950's. Not quite the Communist blockhouses of Krakaw or Skopje but it certainly is not a modern hotel by any means. They are trying hard, but it is obvious that the hotel was built pre- A/C as there are glass windows that open from the sleeping area to the bathroom. But the room is spotless and it does have an elevator. It's location is directly across from the Royal Palace and up the street from the Foreign Correspondents Club (F.C.C.) so the location is hard to beat.

I left the boat around 9 this morning and Ry was there to escort me to the hotel. We caught a remork-moto (Tuk-tuk) for 3 clams to  the hotel. The room was not available as expected. Since I was told that check in was 2 p.m. I did ask to see a room before committing but nothing was available or clean to see. So I left my luggage and wandered down the street to the first coffee shop I could find and sat for a bit sipping coffee and watching the world drive by as I reviewed Lonely Planet to see what we had missed yesterday that was on my must see for today. There wasn't too much.

There was the French Embassy where Cambodians and foreigners alike too refuge when the Khmer Rouge too control of the city. The Communists gave the option of turning over all the Cambodian Nationals or killing everyone within the embassy. I can imagine the 20 seconds the French needed to think about that one. I took a couple photos of it, but the huge wall that now surrounds it really makes almost no photography worthwhile. Then I has told the Remork-moto driver I wanted to see the National Library. A supposed great art revival building. I say supposed because He stopped at a bookstore similar in size to a Barnes and Noble. Lost in Translation would have been a very apt description.

Next and finally on the list was the Russian Market. There is nothing Russian about it other that back in the day it was the shopping mecca for the tight fisted Russian Babuskhas on vacation here. A warren of tight alleys reminiscent of the Souks of Morocco or Istanbul, only much less touristy and much more intimate. You could hardly pass another person without turning sideways. It was mostly patronized by the locals with a smattering of camera clad tourists. Myself included. There was beef hoof and plucked chickens with their feet still attached. Fresh fish, dried fish and some meats I don't want to give too much thought about. The next aisle had the jewelers in glass enclosed storefronts. Lit brighter than the sun and probably air conditioned. Did I mention it was an hot as a closed oven in there? Then there was silk alley, and tailor alley and at prime intersections there was the Prada, Versace, Chanel knock off bags and purses. I took several pictures. I didn't make any and I left with no more than I entered with.

By the time we made back to our starting point my room or should I say 'a room' was available so I grabbed it.

Yesterday was a day of ups, downs and up again. Per the schedule breakfast at 7 until nine but departure from the quay at 8:45. The river is low this time of year so it was a minor Nepalese trek from the boat to the shore. The complaint part wasn't the climb itself it was the darned stems were about six inches high and too wide to take two at a time. It was like climbing a hill on a bike in low grear. Lots of motion, little movement.

Once at the top there were fifteen pedicabs waiting to take us to the Royal Palace and the Silver Pagoda. Concluding at the National Museum. The Royal Palace was nice, pretty and interesting. Of course it was filled with mega numbers of my brethren. Camera toting tourists. Some following their versions of Ry the tour guide and some solo with the blue bound copies of Lonely Planet Cambodia. The king was outta town with mommy in Bejing, she is seeing a doctor there. So we weren't invited in for lunch. He's single and unmarried and there is  some speculation to his sexuality, but he is the king so not too much speculation. The rules of succession ar completly unexpected to me. The king is elected by a consortium of palace and government officials instead as we normally expect it to be done.


Then we strolled/sweltered over t o the Silver Pagoda. The entire floor is covered in 2 pound squares of pure (97%) silver. We got to walk on carpeting covering the silver. But there were places here and there that you could see the silver. I remember mom spending an afternoon with silver polish before Thanksgiving. If you were going to polish this floor for Thanksgiving, you'd have to start on the 4th of July.

Then back to the pedal rickshaw and my unmarried driver. Unfortunately I think he had more grand children than teeth and I never did find out how many water buffalo he had, so  I  declined his generous  offer of marriage.

Lunch and a couple hours of free time before our next trek up the stairs and off to the "Killing Fields" and S-21 prison. I used that time to wander around town a little. I was in search of a place to break a 100. I asked for a bank and was told where the ATM was. I should have asked for an Exchange, so it took longer to get pointed in the right direction than I had hoped. I did find one in a huge outdoor market. Of course English was not a language spoken. Dollars, Pounds, Rials were spoken fluently and translated via calculator. I nust wanted to break the bill, but noooo... He was an exchange and he was going to do an exchange by cracky. He wanted to do 50/50 but my cargo pants wouldn't be able to hold that many bills, he settled on $10 which was manageable.

The big red bus was waiting for us at 2:30 and we meandered through Phnon Penh traffic not stopping for anything, because we were a bus after all and the biggest thing on the road. maybe we would have yielded to a Sherman tank, but not much else. As with most of the world Stop sigs, Stops lights and not squashing nuns and children were completely optional.

The 'Killing fields' are not one particular site when the killings were done, they were scattered about Cambodia to the tune of nearly 300. This one is the one that is the most famous, but not necessarily the largest (most efficient?). Anybody could be killed there, Men of curse, women, children and even babies. Nothing quite as civilized as a bullet to the back of the hear. Bullets cost money. So clubs, hoes, and even palm tree branches were used to dispatch the victims. The infants were sort of saved from that by a swift blow against a particular tree.Of the approximate 200 mass graves only about 2 thirds of them have been excavated. The remainder are left as they were found. During the rains the occasional bone or scrap of clothing rise to the surface and placed in special memorial boxes and bins. It was more sobering for me to see the odd bone lying on the ground or pant leg sticking out than a coffin sized glass box full of bones. It just brought the reality of the madness to me more. There was a memorial stupah tastefully filled with skulls that I opted out on.

On the bus ride from the 'Killing fields' to S-21 prison  Ry told us his personal story of those three turbulent years. He and his Father, mother, younger brother and 2 year old sister along with his grandmother  were rousted from their home in Phnom Penh and forced from the city to the countryside.  Dad had a motorcycle that was loaded with the big stuff, mom and granny had the rest, Ry carried 2 ducks and they were force marched out of town. Along the way he passed bodies lying on the roadside. If you couldn't keep up where you stopped was your point of departure from this world. They were forced to work the rice fields with a quota of 3000 tons of rice per hectare. If you worked too slow, you were 'enemy', if you became ill you were 'enemy' if you were educated you were 'enemy'. As were tradesmen and speakers of foreign languages and any number of other offenses. If you were 'enemy' you just went away, never to be seen again - or - worse to be seen daily as your body rotted on the side of a dike. Ry's sister went this way as did his grandmother, who died of starvation/exhaustion. The died where she worked in the rice field and was tossed over the dike like yesterday's trash.

Of course the kids were conversationally interrogated. Nothing heavy, just conversation with a nice "Ankor" about what his father had done for a living or what they were talking about after dinner. Sometimes, parents would just disappear after such conversations. He was told to lie about his father being a soldier and that hes poke French and his grandmother English.

At first the daily ration was rice, but as they rice was more and more sent to feed the soldiers fighting the Vietnamese or sold for export that a thin wattery gruel replaced the rice. He got caught stealing rice from the kitchen and was labeled 'enemy'. Fortunately he had a friend who's father was the head fed in this group and the boy intervened on Ry's behalf and Ry only had to dig a 20 foot water channel in the dark. The boy told him that if he was 'enemy' again he had used up his one favor. Ry was nine.

Dad now has to use a cane to move about and his mom has a form of dementia where she gets lost in the neighborhood and in the night screams for her daughter and mother. Of course treatment for P.T.S.D. is non existent.

S-21 was a large school where where prisoners were held for interrogation and confession. Eventually everyone confessed and were killed, or they died in the process. Each one was photographed and cataloged both on their arrival and upon their departure. At first the three story school buildings were just open, but way too many people were tossing themselves off the top floor and committing suicide. So they couldn't have that, so the balconies were screened in, with barbed wire. In some of the rooms the tiles were still stained with the blood of the prisoners. I think there were 17,000 people (both Cambodian and Western) who passed through this facility. When the Vietnamese liberated the the prison there were three prisoners left  alive (maybe it was six). The "Ankor" were killing them right up to the last moment. One of the survivors was on the grounds and was selling his autobiography. I felt it was a worthwhile purchase on a couple levels.

Back on Big Red and back to the boat. I was scheduled to leave the boat last evening and check into this hotel for two nights. The group told me to come back for the evening's entertainment. A group of orphans who were scheduled to do national dances and songs. I said "Sure" and went to the purser, Nevell to clear it. He said words to the effect "Well, shit. Your room isn't taken and we don't leave until nine tomorrow morning. Why bother checking out. Stay here." I didn't have any heartburn over that and asked how much I'd need to pony up for the extra night. He looked at me. I said "The Pandaw Company. How much?" His response I've translated to mean "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas." I did tip extravagantly after that.

This morning was the email exchange and advice and contacts when I return to Siem Reap form my tour mates. Rally a great group. The boat holds 60 passengers, but were were 18. small enough to get close over four days and large enough to not be stepping on one another's space very much. I was not particularly happy about leaving them, but it was time to meet now people and get back on my own. Setting my own course instead of being nanny'ed for a few more days.

“Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.”
― Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

Monday March 18 2013

So again we nosed into the riverbank yesterday afternoon and got on the smaller bus. I guess where we were going the boat couldn't get us there. We went to two places a high hill with a Buddhist temple and surrounding gardens. This was called the "Boy Mountain". Nearby was the "Girl Mountain" which was slightly taller with another temple on top of it. Fortunately the bus was able to drop us at the top of the hill. The fable is as follows.

 -- At one time the girls were the ones who asked the boys to marry them and for some reason the girls wanted the boys to ask for their hand instead. The boys said they were happy with the status quo. So no one got married for a while. The boys wouldn't give in and neither would the girls. Finally they brokered a deal. The group to build the highest mountain before the morning star rose would be declared the winner. About half way through the girls realized they were out matched in strength to build the mountain as the boys were way ahead of them. So they thought about it and lit a lantern and held it aloft. The boys thinking it was the morning star stopped work, knowing they had it in the bag. The girls kept working through the night and when the actual Morning star did rise their mountain was higher, and so now the boys ask the girls to marry them. Awwww... (If the boys had an iPad they could have won, because there is a star chart app (There's an app for that.)) --

Then we went to the trip that seems to be required on every trip - the visit to the local village. It was better than some as we didn't have a gaggle of children tagging along pestering us for whatevers. The houses are all built on stilts. Well not concrete pillars but basically the ground level is completely open and where the family hangs out and works in the daytime. Then the upper floor is used at night and for cooking. I can see why too. It was hotter than blazes up there at three in the afternoon. The floor was split bamboo spaced a quarter inch apart, so you could see through to the ground below. There was one large room that took up 80% of the floor space and then a private room and a kitchen with 2 or 3 charcoal braziers. The private room was for the parent until any girls came into puberty then it was hers until she married and then it became the Honeymoon Suite. What happened if the were two girls was not made clear. The rest of the family slept in the large common room.

There was a wedding going on in the village as well. The mother of the bride was out front with a huge smile standing next to two of the maids of honor. All dressed like royalty. Make up perfect for the cover of Vogue. The groom was in electric blue and hair sprayed in a high almost bouffant. He made the old country and western crooners look bald in comparison. He looked bored and I assume ready to start the honeymoon. The bride was still in the middle of the tent soaking up being the center of attention. Then an exit through the gift shop. Really ! It was a school when we drove up (closed on Sunday) and had several tables with village made trinkets for sale. Some of the cruise mates bought bamboo leaf fans.

Then back to the boat for drinks, an infomercial by the purser on tomorrow's (today's) activities and then supper. Again good and almost gourmet. Then there was a movie "Two Brothers" about 2 tiger cubs that I decided to pass on and instead enjoy the ship's solitude and get to bed at an early hour. All this time we were cruising down the Mekong to Phnom Penh to anchor for the night.I watched another cruise ship try to pass us and fail until I got bored and went back to my cabin around nine-thirty and took a shower and went to bed by ten.

The anchor dropping at 1:30 a.m. blasted me out of sleep. My room is one of the two closest to the pointy end of the boat so I got the full effect. I'm glad that the afternoon infomercial prepared me for that. Otherwise the cabin boy would have had some additional duties in  the morning. I went back to sleep and woke a little before sunrise listening to the crew prepare to get underway for the day. I had coffee made and was on the sun deck with coffee, cigarette, anti-malarial and two cookies in hand at 6 a.m. I reduced my breakfast to a muffin and avoided the omelette today. I can't continue to gobble down as much food as I have been.

Then we again grounded the boat  and climbed the riverbank. This time to get in carts pulled my two oxen. I guess after all the food we had eaten they knew we would need two oxen for each cart. The crew insisted on giving us self photos with out cameras. That was fine because I never go home with a picture of me on a trip. I teamed up with Dawn the gal from Canada. The boat's crew suggested we ride toboggan style we both looked at each other and decided to go side by side. We had a very nice chat. She is a widow, her husband died of a brain tumor as he was writing his auto-biography. It was close enough to getting published that she is going to have a ghostwriter polish it up and print it. "Living in Oblivion" is the title and she's already found a publisher. I'll have to track it down when it gets published.

The terminus of the cart ride was another small village but mostly a Buddhist temple and some stupah's around. We went in and watched the monk bless a man making an offering and then went out and viewed the crematorium.

We had the local kids lamprey onto us when we arrived and our kid waspretty cool. She walked along behind us until we offered her a spot on the bus and she happily hopped on. folding a palm leaf into very pretty rings for us. I gave her a packet of Crystal Light in exchange. She seemed very content with that. On the return ride she gave us a really cute note and a drawing. This brought out a dollar from each of us.

Back to the boat for a day's cruise up the Tonle Sap River. This is how I had expected to come down, not the bus ride to the Mekong.  Lunch's proteins were phylo wrapped salmon, roasted duck and turkey with cranberry sauce. I opted out of the turkey but did find room for the other two. Then back up on top for the cruise through the narrow channels of the river that I had expected. mid afternoon found us at floating city where we turned around and headed back towards Phnon Penh where we will anchor for the night.

My arm is tired from waving to the children on shore. The have the Cambodian version of Ethiopia's Ferengi Fever. Yell, wave jump up and down. It must be the thing of the day to do. Kind of like when I was a kid standing on the overpass trying to get the truckers to honk their air horns by making a pull down motion with our arms. It didn't work all that well, but when it did it was really cool. 

Dinner and a movie tonight (The Killing Fields). I saw it when it first came out. I might pass on it and catch it at home. It won't get over until ten thirty and bed sounds more to my liking right now, since I've still not acclimitized to the jet lag, and have been working on six hours a night.

Tomorrow is the Palace, and national museum in then a.m. and S-21 (the prison that the Khemer Rouge tortured and killed 17000 people) and then yet another bus ride to the killing fields. Concluding that day's tour and my time on the cruise at around 5:30.

300 up one big one down

Sunday March 17th 2013 - Mekong River.

It's mid day and I think I've quit my bitching. We still haven't entered the Apocalypse Now / John Kerry part of the Mekong. That part where the boat's sides scrape along the jungle that threatens to over take the river. According to the boat's Purser that should happen later today. Right now we are in a very wide spot,  maybe a mile wide. We are back exactly where we boarded the boat yesterday.

Last night we anchored mid stream a few hundred yards from here. I went to bed around ten p.m. and found the bed to be a little firm (but both beds here in Cambodia have been firm) but comfy cozy. I nodded of pretty quickly and got a good solid six and a bunch of flopping for 2. I looked at the window and saw that the light had changed so fired up the immersion heater and made myself a cup of Starbucks and wandered up to smoke my last cigarette and sip my coffee. I was the only tourist up around then, of course the crew had beat me by hours I'm sure. Then back to my cabin for a shower and get ready to face the day. One thing I can say about the boat. Their hot water is really hot. None of this wimpy 130 degree stuff I get at home. Nope. This is pure near 180 degree stuff. After that luke cold shower in Siem Reap it was a welcomed blessing to actually get totally wet and soapy.

Then breakfast of course. The exact same thing as any big hotel chain. Go back and read breakfast in Siem Reap and you got the exact thing only in miniature. Except, and this is big. The orange juice is real, not Tang (The drink of astronauts). I am an orange juice snob it seems. As we were dining we were also motoring up river. I think this is the first time I've been on a vessel when they raised the anchor. A machine gun of an engine vibrating the entire boat.

Around 8:30 a.m. we nosed into the bank (1.5 meters of draft) and tied us to a couple trees. Then we trooped up this medium sized hill to a multi religious site. Both Buddha and Shiva are represented, but mostly Buddha. Ry explained the life of the Buddha and then we entered a temple and I got some (I hope) nice first tourist type shots of my trip. I don't consider the 5 minute stop to look at the rubber tree exactly a highlight on the tourist check list. So at that point, I kind of felt that my vacation part of the trip had finally started. We wandered a bit and got the lectures on a monk's life and such and then walked 300 steps down the hill back to the boat (a nice paved trail lead us up). A little nervous making one of those  - if you stumble you are going to do a lot of bouncing on the way down, because there are no landings every fifty steps. Just three hundred steep steps down.

Back to the boat that turned around to where we had started from yesterday where we nosed into the bank and had lunch and drinkie poos and such in preparation for a village tour later this afternoon. Lunch was a sit down and get served affair, like dinner. Today's protein choices were beef and crocodile. It tastes like chicken. :)
o.k. -- I'll try and get back with y'all after dinner.

My boat was a bus

Hey, hey, L.B.J. How many kids you killed today ?
 - John Kerry (probably)

Saturday March 16 2013 - Mekong River, Canbodia

Finally the reason for the trip has begun. I'm not traveling in between places to get to see the sights.


I awoke with a gigantic headache. I thought it was from sinus problems brought on by the nearly 24 hours a day of air conditioning. I tried all the things that make my sinus headaches abate and it still raged. Finally the light above my head went on and I thought it might be caffeine withdrawals. I've been drinking some coffee, but not nearly my requisite cups at home and the the double triple Starbucks Americano. I doubled up on the Starbucks Via packets and the sugar. Within 20 minutes I was fully recovered. With the added bonus of a fixed exhaust pipe.

Breakfast was fine. The usual buffet you get including and egg station and a noodle station. Fruits, cereals, juices and breads. It was missing croissants and marmalade though. The dining room was a large cavern affair and even though it was half filled I'm glad I was alone, because conversation would have been very difficult. I decided to get some local money since all I had were U.S. dollars and I figured it would be easier to navigate the local economy with the local coin of the realm. I gave the woman the the hotel a Benjamin and since threre was a worn crease down Ben's face she wouldn't accept it. Crikie ! I'll find someplace to accept it at another place I suppose. After all that minor hissy fit over the bad C note I went to a different hotel to meet the boat/bus and handed her a different hundred and asked got change. She whipped out 3 twentys, two tens, 2 fives and ten singles in U.S. dollars. It seems U.S. dollars are the preferred currency even over the local stuff.

I caught a remork-moto to the hotel where the meeting for the boat was. Now there is the place to stay. Quiet. Green. Lush. The staff walking noislessly probably on little clouds. I thought that perhaps a splurge might be in order when I returned. It was a nice thirty second dream until she quoted me a $225 Superior and a $250 Deluxe (with a pool view) a night. I guess they don't have and regular rooms. I asked for a multi night - cash discount. Well at least she didn't laugh in my face. Though she did make it perfectly clear that, that was the price. Fine !

The boat's guide Ry (pronounced Ree) asked me how long I'd been in town and if I'd seen any temples. I said "They have temples here ??! Cool !". I'm still not certain that he knew if I was joking of not. At the appointed time we boarded the appointed bus. Another damn bus ! Well it is going to be a short drive to the nearby lake to get on the boat. Five hours later we arrived at the boat. Its a six hour bus ride to Phnom Penh. We did stop for one 15 minute pit stop and a 2 minute look at a rubber tree. The rest of the time was another stinking bus ride. Ry did a good job explaining things like how most of the people live, the Pol Pot years and Pol Pot's life story. But still it was another bus ride.

This cruise is not panning out as I had imagined. We got on the boat and had the obligatory safety and this is how the boat works speech. Then he explained the itinerary. Most of the people on the boat are going on to Ho Chi Minh City in Viet Nam. My 3 night / 4 day cruise down the Mekong looks something like this. ! day bus ride. Moor out in the middle of the river, Cruise up the river tomorrow and get off to see a temple in the morning. Back to the boat for lunch at the same place we got on. Spend the night someplace. Sail down to Phnom Penh oor in the middle of the river and then depart the next day, probably on another stinking bus. Not quite the days spent leisurely chugging down the Mekong watching the green countryside flow by. Just like John Kerry saw in his Swift boat in the 1960's. Maybe I'm pre bitching. I certainly hope so.

This group is certainly less stuffy than last years group. Only 18 people on a boat that generally carries 60 so there is lots of comradery. Add in the mix four couples from Australia and it's good times all the time. Tomorrow I'll probably singing a totally different tune. Either about how much I love the trip or how much I hate my crew mates. The tribes have been established. The Aussies hand about one another and make a lot of noise and generally have a heck of a good time. The Brits and the Norse hang out in their pairs, alone but will happily mix when necessary. The single woman from Norway tries, but hasn't found her clique yet. I and the woman from Canada kind of flow from group to group, but I find  myself hanging with the Aussies more and more.

Dinner was a formal (not formal dress) sit down affair. Four courses soup to dessert. It was good tourist hotel food. Not gourmet, but not bad either. Above average but nothing I would travel 20 miles for.. Then after most of us slipped up to the sun deck on the top of the boat and they chatted and I typed this.



 

The longest border crossing - EVER

You forget how absolutely wonderful the first sip of a cold beer can be, until it's 90 degrees and 100% humidity
 - Theresa Porter

March 15 2013 - Siem Reap, Cambodia

Arrived in Sien Reap, Cambodia around 6 p.m. after a nine hour bus ride. Well actually the bus ride was only 7 hours, the Immigration formalities between two third world countries took up two complete hours. But lets start where we left off last.

Around 5 p.m. my internal jet lagged body was screaming for food. I had stayed awake after my three or fours in bed, and then just hung out at the hotel the rest of the day. Later in the afternoon I realized the last meal I had was a scrumptious something I couldn't remember at midnight somewhere over the Gulf of Tonkin.  I ordered a club sandwich. You know one of those triple deckers filled with lettuce, tomato, bacon and ham or turkey slathered in mayonase. What came was not bad, but it's only resemblance to the 'Club' of my mind was the three slices of bread. It did have lettuce and tomato and some mayo the bacon morphed into a fried egg and the ham or turkey became some type of fried fish. It was good, even though it was not quite what I was expecting.

I flounced back uo to my room and fought the jet-lag monster. I was hoping for a Dungeons and Dragons twenty sided die to roll to fight this critter. Alas no D20's were available. I watched the HBO docudrama Game Change about Sarah Palin's run for vice president and at 8 I gave in to the comfort of the pillows. 2 a.m. was the best I could manage. My body said it was noon and time to get up. I did the get up, go back to bed dance until around 6 and gave up to face the day.

Breakfast and then check out followed over the next two hours. Check out was odd, I am still not certain if the Ramada and hotels.com both charged me for the stay or not. I'll have to check my credit card when I get home I guess. Then the first hurdle of the day came. I asked for a taxi to take me to the bus station to catch a bus to Cambodia.  "Which station? We have two or three." How in the world am I supposed to know ? I'm just a tourist. Finally in some obscure part of the Lonely Planet guidebook I found the right bus station and the trip began.

The taxi got me there easily and I walked into the bus station. Three blocks long with the walls lined with bus companies spaced 20 feet apart. All written in some odd script that even a Rosetta Stone couldn't decipher. I gave up my pride and threw myself to the mercy of the information booth. He turned and pointed to the nearest booth and smiled. I don't know if it was an actual smile or the stupid tourist does it again smile. Either way I said to the woman behind the glass "Cambodia" she said 750 Bhat (around $25) and the bus leaves in 20 minutes. I thought 25 clams was a little much for a ride to the border, but WTF at least I was moving.

At nine sharp we were pulling out and on the road bound for an adventure. The guidebook had all said ride the bust to the border. Get your Visa for Cambodia. Walk across the bridge and catch a taxi to Siem Reap. As it turned out this bus did go all the way to Sien Reap and I'm here to tell you it was a Godsend. The bus was three quarters full and I believe I was the only U.S. citizen on board. Japan, Norway, Poland, China and Russia were all represented.

Orange juice and cake were served along the way. Around 1 p.m. we arrived at the the border.  We first stopped at some Visa getter broker that cost a few dollars more than I had expected. Not enough to kill the trip, just enough for me to say loudly "This is bullshit." I didn't realize the word "Bullshit" was so universally understood. This process ate up two or three cigarettes and lunch on the bus. Next came the exit from Thailand. The actual process was only 30 seconds, the line was an actual 30 minutes. Then came the oddest thing I'd never seen. In the No Mans Land between Thai Immigration and Cambodian Immigration for a quarter mile was clustered with huge hotels / Casino complexes.  Not quite Las Vegas but very plush none the less. I don't know what to make of them. Maybe they are on Indian land.

Finally came the line for Cambodian Immigration. It stretched out of a ovenlike metal tunnel and a block more. The bus driver came up to me and said for 100 Bhat he's have the line taken care of for me. Give him my passport and the 100 and go back and sit in the A/C on the bus. Several of us took advantage of this. Good to his word an hour later my passport was back in hand with all the requsite stamps and stomps.

I'm flying back to Bangkok.

After nine hours we arrived in here in Siem Reap. I caught the first available Remork-moto to my hotel. I had traveled around cities in India in Tuk-Tuks before. Little lawnmower powered death traps that would seat two westerners  and a basketball team of locals. Here their version, the Remork-moto is a covered cart the same size as a tuk-tuk pulled behind a Honda fifty (maybe it is bigger than 50 c.c.) With bugs flying in my eyes and my hair blossoming behind me we sped to the hotel I had reserved.

Big, focused around an huge swimming pool with tour busses in the front yard is my home for tonight. The room is large and the A/C is meager, but it has everything I want so I'm content. Especially after that afore mentioned beer.


Still no pictures.

www.dear-dorothy.com

Beds and the thirty six hours in between

A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.
 - Lao Tzu

Thursday March 14 2013 - noon
Bangkok

What a trip so far. I guess I shouldn't have said all those nice things at the beginning of the trip, because after that the wheels came off the bus.

I am still a bit sleep deprived and my double morning java express hasn't really started to work yet, but here goes. 36 hours between beds and 10 time zones will do that to a girl I guess.

The plan was scheduled to depart at 1:50 pm and so I got to the airport in plenty of time to get checked in and through T.S.A.'s theater of security. I scanned my bar code into the kiosk and it had all my information as well as a note that the plane was going to be delayed by an hour. No disaster yet. I had a two hour layover in Tokyo (NRT) and now that was whittled down to 1 hour. I could make that, but there wouldn't be any dilly dallying between planes.

2 pm. came and went and finaly at around two thirty we got to boarding, but the ground crew assured us that the connections in NRT world still work. Since the plane was in late from Amsterdam we needed to refuel at the gate, using little trucks instead of those big semi trailers I am used to seeing. The little trucks lined up and slowly began to refill our thirsty Airbus. The plane gulped down it's fill and then sat there - and sat there -- and sat there. The man on the flight deck came on the intercom and said that since they weren't filling as usual that the computers in Atlanta would not accept the weights and balances input and they would have to calculate it by hand, just another few minutes, Folks. I don't suppose I need to elaborate too much on what happened from there. Besides making for nervous time about whether whoever was making the calculations had passed sixth grade math, it took him or her forever to do the calculations. So much for my two hour window in Tokyo.

Eventually the numbers got input, and I hope double checked and we pulled away from the gate, did a taxi turned a but corner and were pressed back into our seats and this miaricle of European engineering sped down the tarmack. The nose lifted and then the main gear and I waited for the out of balance rocket to wallow and either fall in a huge fuel filled fireball or wake us for a cold wintery dip in Puget Sound. Neither of course happened.

The guy next to me was from Saskatchawan and going to meet his Thai wife in Bangkok (BKK). Wifey number one had died of cancer three years ago and he had met his current wife through a friend while in Thailand playing goilf.  Canadian Immigration was holding things up ... etc, etc. This I learned all before cruising altitude. Only nin hours and forty-five minutes of a ten hour flight to go. Then his conversation came around to the book he was reading. I don't remember the exact name of the book but it was something like - You are wacko. Here is how to fix yourself - and of course I must read it, because in the 20 minutes we had know each other he could tell that I was a perfect candidate for help.

At long last we got to 'altitude' and the inflight entertainment came on and I was able to hide behind my shield of protection. My Bose 2 noise canceling headphones. Well mostly anyway.

Three or so movies and four periods if airline food we began our decent into Tokyo three hours late.The pilot warned us that NRT had been experiencing high winds all ay (gusts over 50 mph) but it was  much calmer now. Because of the high winds many planes had been diverted to nearby airports and there was a good chance any necessary connections would still be available. No one clapped upon touching down in Tokyo, though thi]s was one time I thought it was warranted. he plane rocked and rolled as we approached the ground and really started  yawing (or is it pitching?) as we got closer and closer to the ground and our maker. I briefly gave some thought that perhaps I should have read a little of my seatmate's book before my demise and forgot that idea as soon as the main gear settled onto the Japanese concrete.

We scurried like rats from a sin king ship into the terminal and found ourselves in a new line to go through security another time. Same as in Seattle only slower in spite of no requirement to remover shoes or belts.

The departures board had our next flight listed on the board with the large red flashing word INDEFINITE next to it. A little asking around and a few eaves dropped conversations I learned that the flight was one of the ones diverted and would be departing at 9:45 pm. At nine the red word listed a gate and it was obvious to me that the nine forty-five number was jst a W.A.G. (a Wild assed guess - in pilot parlance). The plane was at the gate when I got there and then it wasn't and a different piece of equipment was there in it's place. Okay so they have to clean it, refill it with food, get the crew on board, do and redo their checklists and THEN get a plane load of impatient souls and their hand carry trunks on board. Maybe we would make it in time for me to catch my flight home in 21 more days.

I settled into my seat and then did that waiting chant I generally do - Oh, airplane Gods, please let the seat next to me remain vacant. I guess my earlier pleas to the Gods to arriving alive into Tokyo was my quota for the day, because soon there was the smiling face of the occupant for 38H looking down at me from the aisle. It was Jim, my previous SEA to NRT seatmate. He said they had changed his seat at the last minute. Seven more hours in a cramped seat next to an evangelist.

It soon became clear that the flight was not even close to being full and as soon as the doors closed the ganes of aircraft Musical Chairs began. Jim hopped across the aisle into a four across and then traded wit a woman for her window /aisle twofer and we all had room to stretch out and get a few hours of tossing and turning in our own small worlds.

I managed 4 or five hours of non awareness (it might have been called sleep or it might not have).. We arrived in BKK at four-fifty a.m. a full five hours late.  I had purchased travel insurance for the medical - emergency evacuation coverage. There was a clause for delayed luggage and delayed flight compensation. I'll have to review it later and see if there is a claim there for me.

A couple miles of moving walkways and then Immigration and my bag happily spinning on the merry-go-round and I was officially in Thailand. As I was securing my big puffy down filled purple coat to my luggage and man approached and asked me if I needed a taxi. I said Yes and asked how much. 700 Bhat ($25 +/-). My only question to him was "Is it YOUR taxi?". He said it was a friend's taxi and I blew him off. Enough traveling had taught me that he was just hustling for a commission from the real taxi driver and it was not going to be a negotiation in my favor. I caught an official metered taxi to my hotel and the bill came to 400 Bhat, even with a healthy 100 Bhat ($3.50 +/-) tip I was still ahead.

The room is nice. Clean and new. I had to turn the air conditioning down from the 'meat locker' setting to something more fit for human existence. A short shower and into my jammies for about four solid hours of slumber.

So here we are now, full of coffee, sitting by the pool getting stickier by the moment waiting for a Coke Zero and thoroughly enjoying life.  I don't expect to leave the property until tomorrow when I wend my way to Cambodia. It's a little after one pm and I just don't feel like negotiating the madness of a new city that I'm only going to spend 30 hours in. Maybe at the end of the trip I'll venture into Bangkok for a day or two.

Let the bitching begin !

And so it begins ...

Dear Dorothy

Wow, only twenty three more hours and I'll be off the plane at my destination. That is if I get to me destination. Upon checking in I find that my flight has been delayed departing Seattle over and hour. I had an hour and a half connection in Tokyo and that has now been whittled down to about 30 minutes. To make matters more interesting I am sitting near the back of the plane (in case it crashes - you always see the tail in one piece) which means that every person who is making their trip of a lifetime will be blocking the aisles with their forty pounds of carry-on luggage before me. I hope I can figure out which gate I'm going to and can make it in time, otherwise I can probably extend this leg of the trip an additional few hours.

I tried to get on the stand-by upgrade list to no avail. Tiffany said "Dress nicely, it worked for me one time.". The Seat Guru said "Get a frequent flyer card (I already had one of those with a current quarter million miles on it). American Express said "Get our GOLD CARD and get free up grades." - The ticket agent said "Your ticket doesn't qualify unless you pay an additional $3000 for full fare on international flights." Now if I can just get a crying baby in the seat next to me life will be complete.

Do I always start out bitching about things on these trips ? Now if I could just get an internet connection on the $%*$%# Free-WiFi I could go back and rear my previous emails and find out. But Nooooo.....

The hotel was nice. The room was large. There was supposed to be one of those beds with a balloon as the mattress that you are supposed to be able to pump up at the press of a button - I had a male friend who had something similar, but on a smaller scale, MUCH smaller. The bed's balloon didn't work. The hotel had just gone through a remodel and smelled that chemical smell of new carpeting.  They must have gotten the carpets from a Las Vegas casino overstock. I had read once the the carpeting in casino was intentionally obnoxious to keep you from looking at the floor and looking at the machines and glitter. My room's only machine was the television, but the carpeting brought back an interesting flashback from my wild days in the 60's.

I left the room at 6 a.m. to step outside and immediately remembered I had forgotten something in the room. Could I get the key card to work? Well you already know the answer to that question. I got a new key from the front desk, along with a toothbrush (somehow I forgot to pack one of those (but Ed and Erin - I did remember my floss !!)). That new key didn't work so well either, eventually after half a dozen tries and holding my mouth -- juuust riiight -- it opened.

Grabbed a quick overpriced breakfast and the shuttle to the airport. I was able to get nearly naked and get my annual dose of radiation and somehow got past TSA's "Theater of Security" even with my middle finger extended for the x-ray operator.

So now I'm current. I'll re-boot the 'puter and see if I can coax the WiFi Gods into cooperating with me.