just a quick note of being thankful

Thankful Lori in front of Angkor Wat

Angkor Wat as the sun was coming up

I am so very thankful, on this most unusual Thanksgiving of my 52 years of life. Thankful for my children, who are living their own thankful lives and building their own happy families. Thankful for my sweet husband, who (among all the rest) organized this amazing trip for us, and who (still among all the rest) got up with me at 4:25 this morning even though it wouldn't have been his first choice, and who (still among all the rest) stays patient with me when I overheat and need to stop and drink water. Thankful for my relative extraordinary wealth that allows me to fly to the other side of the world and see this incredible place, and meet these sweet people. Thankful that I'm healthy enough to do this.

I just keep thinking of Cat's Cradle, The Books of Bokonon (Kurt Vonnegut, of course):

God made mud. God got lonesome. So God said to some of the mud, "Sit up!" "See all I've made," said God, "the hills, the sea, the sky, the stars." And I was some of the mud that got to sit up and look around. Lucky me, lucky mud. I, mud, sat up and saw what a nice job God had done. Nice going, God. Nobody but you could have done it, God! I certainly couldn't have. I feel very unimportant compared to You. The only way I can feel the least bit important is to think of all the mud that didn't even get to sit up and look around. I got so much, and most mud got so little. Thank you for the honor! Now mud lies down again and goes to sleep. What memories for mud to have! What interesting other kinds of sitting-up mud I met! I loved everything I saw! Good night.”

Lucky me, lucky mud.

I have hundreds of photos.....wait until you see Angkor Thom. Our Thanksgiving dinner was great; we ate at The Touich Restaurant and Bar. We started by sharing two appetizers: beef salad "lab" battambang and banana flower salad with dried fish, and then I had sauteed chicken ginger from battambang province and Marc had sauteed chicken with spices and lemon grass.

Tomorrow we fly off to Laos, to Luang Prabang. I can't wait to see it, even though I'll be sorry to fly away from Cambodia.

Siem Reap and the Golden Banana

There are a couple of things that make us feel comfortable about a hotel in this part of the world - the biggest one is when they explicitly forbid sex tourists. I get very freaked out by the child sex trade, especially, but the whole thing bugs me a lot. We also tend to feel comfortable when a hotel says that it's gay-friendly; we suspect that means a certain warm and open atmosphere. Friendly. So the place we're staying when we return to Phnom Penh falls in the former camp, with the explicit statement forbidding sex tourism, and the place we're staying here in Siem Reap is the latter - gay-friendly.

For a while, we thought I was the only female in the whole place. For a while, we thought gay-friendly meant gay-exclusive. The staff, at least those we've interacted with, were somewhat flamboyantly gay, and giggly. The young man who set everything up with us could hardly stop giggling, and sliding his eyes to the side. I liked him, and he made me laugh. When he showed us to our room, the art on the wall really said all we needed to know:

I LOVE IT!! I really do. It makes me silly happy.

Siem Reap is preparing to be Tourist Central; the road coming into town was lined with these gigantic, mostly pastel-painted hotels that would fit comfortably in Miami Beach but were named "Empress of Angkor" or "Princess of Angkor" or things like that. Crazy. They're giant, hundreds of rooms each.

this Buddha in the traffic circle had no arms, leading Marc to call it (of course) the Buddha de Milo

the pool in our B&B; view from standing on our balcony

all the porches have these bathtubs. what?! luckily, there's a wonderful shower inside the room.

new and old Siem Reap, all on one traffic sign set-up. Temples to the left, golf straight ahead.

KFC, anyone?!

lots and lots of these giant new hotels

Our lovely little B&B is down an unpaved alley in the old part of town, so we're going to rest a bit and then head out to visit the Old Market. Maybe later check out the Night Market. But we have a tuk-tuk arranged to pick us up at 4:45 in the morning to see sunrise at Angkor Wat, so it won't be a late night for us, no matter what.

I guess all my loved ones in the US are busy making pies and turkeys and side dishes and getting ready to spend time with other of my loved ones. Happy Thanksgiving Eve, y'all, from a 3rd floor suite of a gay-friendly B&B in Siem Reap, Cambodia.

goodbye sweet Kep

Last night was an enormous storm - there were torrential rains much of the night, with booming thunder and streaks of lightning. I loved it, and such a nice way to end our time in Kep.

I'll really miss our lovely bungalow

Our last gorgeous sunset; we knew a storm was coming, but.....

WOW look at that storm cloud!

We had breakfast this morning and then got in our cab for the 3-hour trip back to Phnom Penh. The roads were so bad, so terribly bumpy, that there was no possibility of knitting to help pass the time, but I did make a few notes of things I wanted to be sure to comment on, so I don't forget:

• the surprising popularity of bocce ball! we didn't see it being played anywhere in Phnom Penh, but we did see it a lot in the countryside around Kep and Kampot. Weird, right?
• our hotel in Kep, the Veranda Resort, was really wonderful. Marc and I would love to come back and stay for a week, partly because we just loved Kep and the area, and partly because it was such a lovely, lovely place to stay. (It is a little strange, though, having the peace and quiet wrecked by coconuts crashing into the roof, knocking the tiles off.) One thing that was less than ideal, though, was the security. The room didn't have a safe, and we were told at the front desk that we could leave cash in their safe if we wanted. Well, we wanted to do that! So the first night, we left our cash with them, got our little receipt, sealed the envelope and handed it over to them, along with our passports. The next morning we wanted our passports and we watched in shock as they opened the "safe"......a canvas bag, hanging on the back of a chair. Right there. Easy reach. It may have had a zipper, but maybe there was just a flap. And don't think "canvas bank bag" that might have a lock or something. NO. Think shoulder bag, purse, that kind of bag. There was all our money, right there. Any unscrupulous person who saw the set-up could just walk behind the counter any of the numerous times there was no one there, and lifted the whole thing. 
• It's often sweltering here, as you'd expect in a tropical area that has a monsoon season. Sweltering. Muggy. Intense (for me, though Marc loves it). But the Cambodians wear a LOT of clothing, including long-sleeved sweaters and hoodies, simultaneously. There I'll be, panting and dripping sweat, and there they'll be in layers and hoodies. What is up with THAT.
• And another what's up with that: we can't get any cell phone reception in Phoenicia, just upstate in NY, but everyone here, in every remote bit of countryside, has at least one cell phone that's in constant use. 
• In Vietnam, it's like everyone is an entrepreneur on speed. "Want to buy a bra? No? Then can I make you some lunch? No? Then want a ride somewhere?" Right in front of obvious communist signs, too. It's like screw the political system, everyone's a mini-capitalist. But here, the entrepreneurial spirit isn't in evidence to the same degree. A huge exception is Pharey, our tuktuk driver from yesterday in Kep. He had two phones, and he was always setting up some kind of deal for someone. He stopped to help a couple of western girls get on a bus, then told us that he'd taken them to Kampot the day before. He knew everyone, it seemed, waved to everyone, and was always upselling us. It wasn't offensive or aggressive, but he was ... um ... earnest.

So now we're in the Phnom Penh airport waiting for our flight to Siem Reap. Tomorrow, Thanksgiving at home, will be very different for us. Our plan is to see Angkor Wat, and it's also the national day of mourning for all those lost at the Water Festival. It'll be the most unusual Thanksgiving I've ever spent, that's for sure.

have you heard the news?

The question doesn't need context - it's on everyone's lips today. Have you heard the news? More than 300 people died in Phnom Penh last night at the Water Festival. Have you heard the news? It's so sad, they say they don't know why. It's a funny kind of question; are they asking what happened, was it just started by people getting scared and everyone freaked out and a stampede happened? Are they asking why, why so many dead, in a country with such a recent tragic history of senseless death? They don't know why.

If I hadn't been here, I might have just heard the news and thought oh that's terrible, and gone right on with my business. But I have been here, and I have met so many of these people, and it's been hard not to cry, even though I feel self-conscious about that. They move me, with their easy smiles and seeming-delight in waving as we fly by in our tuktuk. And humankind is terribly complicated, because these are the same people who slaughtered these same people, in the name of Pol Pot. Or communism. Or something. So no story is ever simple, and people are all kinds of things, all at once....but there are also these broad cultural differences among people. The Vietnamese - our experience was that they're busy busy busy, and they tease and giggle, and they're hustling and so busy. Cambodians, going about their business and smiling easily, and not as hurried as the Vietnamese. The Lao, we've heard, are gentler and slower still.

Marc said it's like being in Manhattan on September 12 - no one could talk about anything else. And really, what else is there, in the face of such shock and loss.

This morning we took a tuktuk to Kampot at 8:45; it's about 24km from Kep to Kampot, and it took us about 45 minutes to get there. Pharey (pronounced as the French say Paris, 'par-EE') drove us; here's a shot of Marc and Pharey at the end of the trip, since I didn't get one at the beginning:

A tuktuk is a motorcycle with a covered wagon-type-thing dragging behind it. They're open air, which was wonderful this morning when the air was fresh (not quite as great coming home in the drenching rain, though!). The countryside between Kep and Kampot was stunning: enormous fields of ripe rice, as far as you could see; people in the fields working, and standing under their homes smashing handfuls of rice stalks against a board to winnow out the grains; big cows everywhere; yards filled with pigs and chickens; children smiling at us as we sped by. I really loved the trip this morning. There was one moment that left me kind of haunted. You know how time can suddenly go v-e-r-y  s-l-o-w-l-y? As we went past a home, a young boy, maybe 11 years old, was walking away from his home toward the highway. We looked at each other. I smiled at him. He smiled at me. We held each others' gaze. I don't know how all that happened in the second or two that we must've been able to really see each other, but it did and I've thought about him all day.

Here's some of the scenery between Kep and Kampot (click any picture to enlarge):

everyone walks their cows around

just working; the head scarves are uniquely Cambodian

lots of people wear things that look like jammies to me!

homes on stilts, with cows and bulls in the yard

hoofing it down the road. most of the cattle are this breed. as a texan, i don't recognize it.

see? cows lying about everywhere!

really beautiful little fishing mini-village

see the rice fields? very ripe rice, heavy heads hanging down

not sure where these piggies were going. to market to market, maybe?

stacks of rice harvested. i don't know the lingo - it's not threshed like wheat, or ginned like cotton. anyway. stacks of rice harvested. pretty.

When we got to Kampot, we left Pharey to do his own thing and we wandered around. Kampot was seriously built-up by the French when they colonized the country, and that lovely architecture is still hanging around despite Pol Pot's desperate efforts to bomb it all to hell. It certainly doesn't look like it once did, but you can tell how it might have looked in its heyday. There was a big storm looming overhead, as you'll see.

oops! forgot about the chickens. chickens are everywhere too.

The monks were out on their alms round; they were always in pairs, and they always held umbrellas (mostly brilliant yellow orange, which kind of matched their orange robes). It's not like begging, and it's not like charity; it's a way for people to make merit. The monks would stand before a door, waiting, and someone would come out with a bit of food or a bit of money. They'd kneel before the monks and I think they were saying prayers of some kind. Then they'd put the money in the monk's bag, or the food in his tall silver container, and the monks would go to the next door. Although the people generally smiled at us, the monks never met our gaze.

After walking around until we'd seen everything, we stopped and had some lunch before we met Pharey for the trip home.We had a lovely view of the Kampot River, from our seats on the 2nd floor of the restaurant:

and those are tuktuks, obviously

Then it started POURING down the rain, as it has every day we've been here on the coast. It's just the end of monsoon season, so this isn't very surprising, and it hasn't bothered us. But we did want to stop at the market on the way out of town, so we ran in and saw this very ingenious system for diverting the rain:

those are fabric tunnels hanging down from fabric drains that run along the ceiling. the rain pours through the tunnels down into a system of drainage ditch-things that crisscross the floor. pretty smart.

Kampot was really wonderful, we loved it. It'll be sad leaving Kep and Kampot, they're really such beautiful places in the world. Now, when I'm back in Manhattan, I'll think of these people out in the rice fields, or resting in hammocks, living such different lives than mine. I hope I get to come back some day.

stampede at the Water Festival in Phnom Penh

I just heard about the stampede at the Water Festival in Phnom Penh - 339 people killed, so terribly sad. We're ok, obviously, but it's really a tragedy. That's a lot of people killed. I can imagine how it happened, the crowds were so intense, people sitting on the ground in big groups, small children everywhere, people who might still be easily skittish even this long after the amokness of Pol Pot. So so sad.

getting crabs in Kep

So one thing you hear about, when you hear anything about Kep, is the crab market. Last night we ate at the crab market -- we thought. Turns out, the crab market isn't that road of little restaurants, the crab market is more like it sounds: the morning's catch from the Gulf, hauled out for sale:

Kep fisherwomen wear leopard print jackets when hauling in a basket of crabs!

click to enlarge - it's a real scene, with food stalls under umbrellas and crabs being hauled in by the second

crab baskets at the bottom of the photo, crab boats in the water

so many vendors, all cooking fresh seafood on the spot

squid and fish and crabs, skewered and cooked over wood charcoal

the attention to detail on the backside of this sculpture cracked me up

this guy towered over the whole thing - the guardian of crab fishermen, i guess

my husband, in hog heaven....wandering into a market filled with fresh crab

the air was so smoky - all those charcoal fires everywhere. it smelled GREAT.

We got caught in a lot of rain, so we headed back to our hotel to relax for a while. The afternoon became sunny again, so we swam for a couple of hours in the beautiful pool at our hotel:

it's a wonderful pool - water just slightly salty, not too cold but definitely not warm. just right and wonderfully refreshing after a sweltering day at the crab market

We were ready to head back to our room anyway, but I noticed the sky was darkening. Just as we got to our bungalow the skies opened up and it was bloody humping DUMPING, as a friend of mine used to say. I mean gallons and gallons of water were just pouring down, it was wonderful.

When it stopped raining, we headed across town to this great little restaurant called Breezes. I decided not to take my camera -- dang it -- because we passed some gorgeous scenery and the skies and water were absolutely incredible. Shades of rosy pink, reflecting on the softest-looking pinkish water, I wish I'd taken my camera. Anyway. The meal was just great; Marc got crab croquettes and lok lak, which is a Cambodian beef dish that comes with a great limey green peppercorn sauce. I got udon noodles with ground chicken, mushrooms, and fresh basil, extremely tasty. We hired a tuktuk driver to pick us up at 8:30 in the morning for a trip to Kampot. More on that tomorrow.

My now-customary ending to this post: I love it here! Cambodian people are so warm and friendly, and my heart melts a little each time I interact with someone.

a treehouse in Kep

Our taxi driver didn't speak much English (though of course he spoke more English than we speak Khmer, so he's got a lot on us!) - he did know the word "crazy" which he used a lot to describe other drivers on the road. Once he pulled up alongside a guy on a scooter and chewed him out in Khmer; the guy had a young boy on the bike with him, and he'd been weaving from side to side. As best I could make out, the cab driver said beer and sleep and drunk. Sounds like the guy deserved to be chewed out.

Driving in Cambodia, like driving in Vietnam and India, involves constant use of the horn. It's a kind of echolocation, I think....."i'm here" ... "here" .... "over here." The ride from Phnom Penh to Kep took about 3 hours, and the transformation of the landscape was amazing. As we entered Kampot province, it started to shift a good bit, to greater lushness and tropical-looking vegetation. But when we crossed into Kep province, it was a startling difference; the vegetation was thick, dense, overgrown, beautiful. Architecture changed too, as the homes are built on stilts.

The cab was funny; there was a Playboy sticker on the glovebox door, a standard assortment of Buddhist things hanging from the rearview mirror, two bobble-head dogs bobbing along on the front dashboard, pillows and a padded kleenex box on the back dashboard, and a small handmade pillow with a counted cross-stitch cover on it, of a floppy-eared rabbit. Someone loves the cab driver a lot, I think. The best thing about him, aside from his saltiness, was his apparent love of 1980s love ballads (think Celine Dion) and rap. He played CDs the whole trip, and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel during the rap songs. Periodically he rubbed his face and neck with something that smelled very strongly like Vicks. As we got closer to Kep, it started raining a lot.

standard transportation in the countryside

Our hotel is amazing, really. It's the most wonderful room either of us has ever stayed in. The Ritz Carlton in Singapore was big-time marble fancy, but this is much more to our liking. It really is like being in a huge treehouse; we have a large private bungalow, with a lovely (and huge) veranda, complete with chairs and a loveseat, a table and chairs, a hammock (for tiny little Cambodians, not me!), and a long bench.

 pouring down rain when we got here! we got soaked making the run to our bungalow

 tropical vegetation

 walkways through the trees, up to our bungalow

 pathways through the complex

this was our view of the sunset, after the storm ended. it was really breathtaking.

We walked to the crab market for dinner - about a 10-minute walk from our hotel. The crab market is a street full of these little restaurants....kind of dodgy looking, but it seems to be where you eat in Kep. We picked the busiest one we could find, Kimly. I'd taken a nap, which always leaves me feeling awful and strange and out of it, so I was kind of, well, out of it. The restaurant was full of Americans, plus one table filled with young Korean men, whose table was covered with empty beer bottles. The food was ok, not much more, but very very greasy. Marc had seen a big plate of french fries going to another table, so he ordered a plate to go with his fried shrimp (I got fried rice with prawn meat); the french fries tasted like fried fish, but then so did everything. During the night, I think we both kind of regretted our dinner a little. 

blogging on our veranda

While I've been writing this post, Marc walked around with the video camera, and said the pool is incredible so I know we'll spend some time there. Our plans for the day are to go to the pepper plantation and into old Kep to see King Sihanouk's old palace. Maybe. We'll see. It's also supposed to rain hard again today, so who knows.

the ubiquity of the Gaga

OH - I meant to say this earlier. Our first night here in Phnom Penh, we were kind of dazed by the long journey, thoroughly lost in time and space, and wandering around looking for a place to eat dinner. As we walked through a giant park, there were loudspeakers somewhere blaring

P-p-p-poker face, p-p-poker face
(Mum mum mum mah)
P-p-p-poker face, p-p-poker face
(Mum mum mum mah)

It made me laugh, and remember earlier this spring, in Honduras, how we kept hearing Paparazzi.

So before we pack up for the day, one more little post. We walked to the Central Market, because we love markets, and keeping in mind the way Phnom Penh is the NYC of Cambodia, we walked through the gold and diamond district....

and the machining district, where a guy was poking another guy with the tip of his arc welder:

Whatever she was cooking (below) looked and smelled great! Street food is often this, a woman with a little stove cooking for you, on the spot:

Central Market was the least interesting/most commercial market we've seen. The one next door to our hotel is the best so far, but of course we have a lot of them still to see. I'm especially interested in the night markets in Laos.