Phnom Penh

We arrived on a bus from Saigon after a seven-hour journey. The border-crossing into Cambodia was quite tedious, but once safely through we noticed a distinct difference from Vietnam. There were now tuk-tuks and Buddhist temples. Motorbikes were less prevalent. More rubbish littered the roadways and the roads themselves were less maintained. Everything seemed dustier. Khmer script had replaced Vietnamese writing on the store-fronts. The atmosphere became more rural and suddenly there were water buffalo loitering in the fields. 

About an hour and a half later we crossed the mighty Mekong River, and soon after that we began arriving in the capital of Cambodia, Phnom Penh. 

Phnom Penh is a beautiful city. Buddhist temples dot the cityscape, mingled with skyscrapers scattered in random fashion. Tuk-tuks on the street give an older vibe. Wide boulevards are a reminder of the French colonial period. We came during the cool air of the rainy season. 

On our first full day in Phnom Penh we hired a tuk-tuk driver to take us around town. (This was the best decision we made our entire trip. He ended up being our guide for the next three days.) We sat in the back of the tuk-tuk, moving at a leisurely pace with a fresh breeze at our face while enjoying the sights and sounds of the city. 

Thai, our tuk-tuk driver.

The colors of Phnom Penh are amazing: the Buddhist temples with their red and yellow walls, and golden spires; the orange robes of the monks; the dirty brown of the Mekong; the maroon, silver and blue corrugated roofs of the shacks at the water's edge; the white and navy blue uniforms of the school kids; the cerulean sky; the gray of the clouds. These were sights never to forget!

We crossed the Tonle Sap River onto a narrow peninsula that also straddled the Mekong. We stopped at a Buddhist temple with an elaborate staircase consisting two mythological golden snakes along the sides. Beneath the balustrade at the center of the stairs were four Dharma wheels, each representing the eight righteous practices taught by Buddha. This golden staircase led to the main worshiping hall. We were almost the only visitors there. Frescoes on the walls and ceiling told numerous stories. A lady knelt and worshiped near the Buddha while a monk entered to offer prayers. 

My favorite place, however, was across the road at the old Royal Palace. According to our driver, the kings lived there 200 years ago. The building was now locked and abandoned, but what fascinated me most was the nearby cemetery. This was the first burial ground I had seen in Asia. Most of the graves were in the form of large conical monuments called stupas. I didn't know if these were burials of the royal family, or monks and nuns. 

Old Royal burial ground.

Frescoes on the walls of the temple.

Stone sculpture in the National Museum of Cambodia.

Buddhist grave and temple on outskirts of Phnom Penh.

Another thing that struck me about Phnom Penh was the friendliness and openness of the people. Thai, our driver, was extremely friendly and always carried a big smile. 

On our way to another temple, while in the back of the tuk-tuk, we were accosted by a couple school boys who hopped in to hitch a ride. They weren't shy at all. Jordan put his arm around one and they stayed with us until the driver shooed them out. 

When we arrived at the temple there was a boy and girl who quickly became our buddies. The girl jumped onto Jordan's back and demanded a piggy-back ride around the grounds. She would get restless and jump off, but a minute later was climbing back on. Then she would grab onto my arm and I would swing her around. The boy demanded that we buy peanuts from his father so we could feed the resident monkeys. We paid 2,000 riels for a small package and the monkeys came right down from the trees. We stretched out our arms and they ate directly from our hands.—But when it was time to go, the two young kids rubbed their bellies and held out their palms. They wanted a hand-out. 

This scenario played out another time as we sat at an outdoor restaurant, waiting for our food to come. Three kids, who appeared to have just gotten out of school because they still had their backpacks, came begging for money. They stood at our table for five minutes straight in silence with their hands pressed together in prayer position. They stayed until the owner shooed them away. 

A schoolboy hitches a ride on our tuk-tuk.

These kids aren't shy at all.

The resident monkey eats peanuts from my hand.

This friendly girl wanted a piggy-back ride.

Smiling monks outside the National Museum of Cambodia.

We passed this cute boy on a street in Phnom Penh.

A visit to Phnom Penh would not be complete without an understanding of the Cambodian Genocide and its impact on the local population. It was 1975 when Pol Pot, the communist leader of the Khmer Rouge, led his troops and seized the capital city. They proceeded to evacuate the citizens by force to the countryside where they would live as farmers. The goal was to create a pure and self-sufficient peasant society by eradicating the urban and educated classes. 

During the next four years over 1.7 million citizens—a fourth of the population of Cambodia—would die from starvation, forced labor, torture or execution. Many were brought to Tuol Sleng Prison in Phnom Penh, a former schoolhouse transformed to interrogate and house prisoners. After being kept in squalid conditions, they were shipped a few miles away to the Killing Fields where they were executed and buried in shallow graves. 

The prison, also known as S-21, is now the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum. Walking through the rooms is a humbling experience. The small brick cells where prisoners slept are still intact. Thousands of black and white booking photos are on display—men, women and children who would eventually be killed. Tools used for torture are laid out. The final room exhibits skulls of some of the deceased. 

Nineteen seventy-five wasn't that long ago. Most of the people here have direct connections with someone who was killed. Thai, our tuk-tuk driver, had his parents and at least one sibling who were killed. He was raised an orphan and has no memory of his family. 

Interrogation room at Tuol Sleng Prison in Phnom Penh. The prison now serves as a museum.

Mug shots of those sent to Tuol Sleng Prison.

Shanty dwellings extend to the river's edge.

Anywhere in the world where I travel, I always make sure to visit as many markets as possible. This includes small family-owned stores, neighborhood grocery stores, and major city markets. In Phnom Penh, Central Market is the major hub where vendors of all kinds come to sell their wares. 

Nearly everything is sold there, from appliances to apparel. We found t-shirts for two American dollars each. Jordan found pants for his girlfriend and I bought a couple hard-to-find postcards. 

For me, the heart of a market is where the food is, and this one didn't disappoint: fish, herbs, fresh fruit, strange desserts. Want food on a stick? Try squid or prawns or . . . frogs! 

We wanted to be sure to visit the night market also, which opened only after 5 pm, and was located in a different venue from Central Market. The market sat in open-air, but was protected from the elements by individual awnings. At first, nothing appeared special about this market. Booth after booth of clothing was typical of any market in the world. But then we came to the food court. 

Instead of tables and chairs to sit on, there were colorful mats laid on the ground. The customer removed his shoes and ate comfortably with his plate on the floor. We ordered Lort Cha, a stir-fry with rice pin noodles and beef. 

By the time we were done with the market, the rain was coming down at a slow, but constant drizzle. We walked a mile in the dark to the hotel, I with an umbrella and Jordan with damp hair. 

Fatigued worker at Central Market.

People eat on mats at the Night Market in Phnom Penh.

Phnom Penh is a river city. It is bordered by the Tonle Sap, Mekong, and Bassac Rivers. It is considered the beginning of the Mekong Delta, meaning that instead of tributary branches that flow into the river, there are distributary branches which run out. The river system is an important source for fishing, which contributes immensely to local cuisine. 

In front of the Royal Palace, along the edge of the Mekong, is a riverside pedestrian walk, and at this point the river is nearly a mile in width. It is a lovely place to sit down and enjoy the breeze and view, watching people in their own environment. In the river there are fishing boats and patches of water hyacinth floating slowing with the current. 

When we were there we watched a group of boys fishing with a stick and piece of string. Even a monk, dressed in orange robes, found time to enjoy the spectacle. 

It wasn't surprising to see the monks because across the street was Wat Ounalom, a Buddhist monastery that is over 500 years old. We walked into the courtyard and found a lady feeding pigeons by tossing bird-feed onto the plaza. Shortly afterward a young boy raced through with his toy car into the flock of feeding pigeons and a couple mooching roosters. 

As we moseyed through the courtyard we came to an adjacent building where a dance class was being held among the youth. The face of the building was open so we could watch from outside. The music was a gentle traditional melody and the boys and girls walked slowly, but deliberately, in a circle while contorting their hands and feet in a specific manner. The instructor was strict, often slapping the hands of the dancers if their movements were not exact. The dancers wore sampots around their waist and moved with bare feet. 

It was interesting to watch. They practiced with strictness and exactness, displaying that Asian discipline that is often frowned upon back home. I admired their devotion to learning a traditional dance. I don't know if this was compulsory or voluntary, but either way, their culture was being handed down. 

Locals use a stick to fish in the river.

A lady feeds the pigeons at Ounalom Temple.

Youth learn a traditional dance.  They are wrapped in sampots.

We arrived in Phnom Penh on bus, but we would leave by boat. We had spent four days in the Pearl of Asia and it was now time to bid adieu. A four-hour journey would bring us back into Vietnam.

In all my days of traveling, perhaps my favorite city I've ever visited has been Phnom Penh. It was an unexpected surprise. There was a blend of old and new, Buddhist temples, monkeys, tuk-tuks, perfect temperatures, harrowing history and exotic markets. As someone who wants to waste no time seeing the world, there are very few places I would prefer to see a second time. But Phnom Penh is one of those places. ♠

 

 

Into the Amazon (Day 1)

Just before dawn we sat in the lounge of our hotel when David knocked at the glass door. We shook his hand then walked down the cobble-stoned street with packs over our shoulders, down to the corner where a van waited for us across the street. We climbed in the van and met our new travel-mates, which included two Czechs, a Russian, an Aussie, and our cook, Dora, a native Peruvian. 

As we drove out of the city, I knew we were headed south because now the rising sun glared through the window on my left side. At a panaderia on the edge of town we stopped and Dora bought some bread. I purchased a bottle of water and two bread rolls, one for me and the other for Jenna. 

The paved road weaved back and forth, passing farm houses, the occasional street cart, and cows. The road traveled up a mountain, then down to a valley, across a river, then back up a mountain. There were no straight paths. 

At times the road turned to dirt, either from a mudslide, or construction. 

Mount Sahuasiray stands in the distance at an elevation of 19,088 feet.

While approaching another summit, this one at 11,800 feet, we diverted to a dirt road and pulled over near a collection of ancient structures that reminded me in size and appearance of Anasazi granaries. This was Ninamarca, a pre-Inca cemetery. 

According to our guide, each stone structure (called a chullpa) once contained the mummified body of a person in the fetal position. They may have been of nobility or higher class, using the little stone towers to keep their bodies cool. There were, however, no bodies still entombed. Our guide supposed that they were taken out during the Spanish conquest. Over the years a few human bones have been discovered.

What made the site even more fascinating to me was its location. From its vantage point at the top of a hill, it overlooked a small village on one side, and in the distance to the north stood the snow-capped Mount Sahuasiray, which rises over 19,000 feet. 

Chullpas at Ninamarca, a pre-Inca cemetery.

By now we were getting to know the crew. The conversation was very much international and Pavel, the Russian, didn't have much good to say about Putin. Tony, the Aussie, was very personable and loved to talk. I was surprised to hear his conservative viewpoints. 

At 8 o'clock we stopped at Paucartambo for breakfast. Paucartambo is a colonial village with a stone bridge over the river. Many of the old buildings are two stories high with painted blue doors. We stopped along the main road which was across the street from the market. 

The smell of simmering pork filled the air as we walked inside. Four legs and a pig's head simmered inside a cauldron —A lady sold biscuits of bread and there was a bar where locals ate bowls of stew. Upstairs in one room they sliced raw meat and in another they sold fresh fruit.

In front of the market ladies sold food from a cart. We each bought a small avocado sandwich, a slice of sweet bread, and for myself, a warm quinoa beverage with a hint of apple flavor. They poured it into a bag and gave me a straw. 

The village of Paucartambo.

Lady selling food and drink from a cart in Paucartambo.

After leaving Paucartambo, we left the pavement for good. There was no simple pathway this entire ride. Always on the edge of a mountain—an upward slope on one side and a drop-off on the other. 

The road gradually climbed in elevation and I watched the other side of the valley through the window. An unknown river swiftly flowed down the center, and on the other side was a patchwork of farms. I have noticed that here in the Andes they truly know how to efficiently use as much land as possible.

During this section we came across construction, which halted momentum for twenty minutes. During that time a water truck backed into the car in front of us breaking a headlight. We thought we'd never get past them after they started bickering, but luckily they moved aside and we were finally able to carry on our journey. 

Farmland on the hillside and river running below (as seen through the window).

Construction on road that runs to the Amazon.

We continued to wend higher and higher until finally we came out on a mountain pass that was now barren of trees. We traveled over the pass and toward another steep drop-off. I noticed wisps of clouds moving in, some of them below us. Soon, we were enveloped by clouds on all sides. 

Aptly named, this was the beginning of the cloud forest. At 11,151 feet, it would be our last high elevation point. From here it would be a long drive down. 

Beginning of the cloud forest.

Making up for lost time, our driver, Gabriel, sped down the mountain as fast as possible without sliding off the edge. To make matters more nerve-racking for myself as I sat next to the window was that clouds still covered everything. Not only could we barely see in front of us, but the abyss at our left was exactly that—an abyss. We couldn't see the bottom. And to make matters worse, I learned that Gabriel was only 19 years old! 

The drive down lasted forever! This was the part of our journey where we truly dropped into the Amazon. Clouds eventually moved out and vegetation became thick and tangled. Around every hairpin turn was another waterfall on the edge of the road. We passed dozens of them. 

One of many waterfalls off the side of the road.

Most of our journey was along roads like this one, perched next to a cliff.

From time to time we would get out and walk down the road looking for colorful birds. David, our guide, was the best at finding them. Some birds were black and camouflaged well, but the red macaw stood out markedly through the spotting scope whenever we looked. 

During one of our walks on the road the van continued to a further location so Dora would have time to prepare lunch. By the time we arrived she was serving up plates of chaufa at a picnic table on the side of the road. Chaufa is a rice and chicken dish of Chinese influence, but native to Peru. We poured glasses of Coke and enjoyed conversation. 

We learned the names of our Czech friends, Jan and Magdalena. They were in their early thirties and just got engaged while on the Salcantay trek here in Peru. She is a practicing Catholic, but he agnostic. 

Chaufa, a Peruvian dish with Chinese influence.

There were a hundred different things to see on the drive down, but we couldn't stop for all of them. Some waterfalls were better than others and I wish we could have stopped at more. Far below raged a torrential river, but you could barely see it through the trees. Next to the road was a steep ledge that would probably swallow you up if you got too close. It was impossible to know where terra firma ended with all the foliage. 

As we got further down, the road became consistently muddy. Although this was the dry season, it still rained quite frequently in the Amazon. 

And we came to trust Gabriel's driving. Apparently he has been driving big trucks since he was fifteen years old. He is a very good driver. I couldn't do it. Several times he had to stop in the middle of the road and backup for oncoming traffic. He knew the vehicle and knew what felt right. 

We drove through several tunnels. Gabriel slowed to a crawl when passing through because each tunnel was bumpy and filled with standing water and mud. 

A breathtaking view of the mountainside as we drop into the Amazon.

Another waterfall.

Walking down the road looking for birds and monkeys.

A butterfly in the middle of the road.

Our highlight of the day came when we stopped the vehicle to look for monkeys. At first we were out of luck. David whistled for them, but nothing came. 

We were on the verge of giving up when Jan spotted one jumping through the trees. He became excited like a little kid! 

It was a family of them. They are known as brown capuchin monkeys. 

First there was one, then two, then a small group. They climbed on the branches, moving from tree to tree to get a closer look at us. Their hands appeared like black leather gloves and they used them to grasp the bamboo branches as they walked on all fours. When we threw them a banana they stood on hind feet and used their black leather hands to catch. They were pretty good at catch. They ate the banana much like a human, then tossed the peel away when they were done. 

Brown capuchins are very intelligent. They have a relatively large brain for their body size and are good at problem solving. They feed largely on fruit and insects. 

Brown capuchin monkey.

Two brown capuchin monkeys.

David, our guide, was an expert in spotting and calling in wildlife.

It was getting late and we had to go in haste if we were going to make it by dark. We were now finally making it to the lower parts of the Amazon, an elevation near 1,730 feet. We had dropped nearly 10,000 feet! 

Once we leveled out we began seeing shacks and ramshackle brick houses. This was a village and I didn't know its name. Women walked on the street, kids played ball. All the roads remained dirt. 

It was interesting that here the vista opened up and we could once again see into the distance. This was due to villagers removing trees for practical purposes. 

Kids play soccer in a remote village in the Amazon.

Shortly after that village, we came to another. I knew the name of this one—Pillcopata. We didn't stop, but I looked at it through the window. It seemed dirty and it amazed me how villages like these could exist so far away from civilization. By now it had been eleven hours since we left our hotel—most of it on a dirt road. This was extremely remote. 

After leaving the village we crossed a river on a bridge and turned onto a side road which led to our lodge. It was now sunset and the fronds of the jungle were turning into silhouette. 

Amazonian village of Pillcopata.

The old walking bridge still spans the river.

I am sitting in our room as I write this. There are two twin beds, two nightstands, and a chair. The walls are paper thin (I can hear the Russian snoring in the next room). Outside is the music of cicadas and frogs. 

We have one sole light to illuminate our room and it is quite dim. We have an outlet which seems to work. But no internet. 

There are detached bathrooms and showers, which are just a thirty second walk from our room. Jenna found a frog on the bathroom wall. 

There is a communal eating area. Dora and another lady made our dinner. 

This is a surreal feeling. I've always wanted to spend the night in a jungle and here I am. Far away from everything and very disconnected. Either frightening or blissful, depending on how you see it.

 

Our lodge (with bathrooms and showers on right side).