A Sampling of Cambodian Cuisine

We arrived in Phnom Penh just before dusk and by the time we left the hotel to find dinner the streets were dark and a cloud burst had just erupted. With umbrellas overhead we walked and walked trying to find a place to eat, but most who were outdoors had already closed shop.

We finally found a place protected beneath a canopy and sat down to a menu. I will admit that my knowledge of Cambodian food was next to nothing. I glanced over my options and decided on a rice-porridge dish that included liver, heart, shrimp and cuttlefish. I felt it would be a great introduction. Jordan, on the other hand, played it safe and ordered a more conventional noodle dish. Our meal cost 34,000 riels.

I don't remember much about how the food tasted, but rather another incident that took place during our meal. Three young school kids came to our table, stood in front with their hands pressed together, apparently begging for money. This went on for two minutes until the owner shooed them away. Begging, I would learn, became a typical scene in Cambodia.

First meal in Phnom Penh.

Four days were all we had in the “Land of the Khmers,” and we wanted to make the most of it. That included a desire to sample as much food as possible. But I was soon to learn that there would be less learning of Cambodian cuisine (it all looked so similar and was indistinguishable from other Southeast Asian food with my untrained eye) and more enjoying the experience while eating it.

A similar scene unfolded the following evening. Now the rain had stopped and puddles of water sat in potholes, reflecting neon lights of the city. We spotted a restaurant across the road, and as we crossed we startled a large street rat.

The place was small and dingy, with buckets and a cooler stacked near the entrance. There was only one other table with guests. This truly was a hole-in-the-wall restaurant . . . and that was how I preferred it.

The food was good. I ordered the pork and noodle soup. Although it had a pleasing taste, I didn't know if it would have tasted any different than a pork and noodle soup from Vietnam or Thailand. The noodles were the thin angel hair kind. It had a couple slices of pork and three pork balls. There was a slice of carrot, as well as the usual handful of greens adorning a savory broth. But the thing that made the evening so memorable was the cockroach crawling on the wall next to us!

A dingy hole-in-the-wall restaurant. 

Pork and noodle soup.

Phnom Penh did not have the street food I thought it would. I expected something similar to Bangkok. Perhaps this was because we were there during monsoon season. But that's not to say there was no street food. We just found it in pockets.

We wandered around the street carts to assess our options. Alongside the many foods I did not know were two that stood out: deep fried frogs, and birds on a skewer. The frogs were not just the legs, but the whole body without the head. Two frogs adorned each skewer. The birds, on the other hand, came with the head, beak and everything else. We didn't buy either, but I would have if I had more time.

Instead I bought other meats on a skewer, and sweet rice wrapped up in a thin tortilla-like cover. We took our food in a little baggie to our hotel and took the elevator to the “sky bar.” We were the only ones there. I don't remember much about the food we ate, but rather of the view we had while we ate. Before us stood the jumbled cityscape of Phnom Penh with colorful roofs below and a birds-eye view of random skyscrapers. In the distance loomed heavy storm clouds that would soon burst in a downpour that would last all night long.

Frogs and birds on a skewer.

Dinner with a view!

We found this very refreshing sugar cane drink.

Speaking of our hotel (which was only $36 a night), it was one of the best I've ever stayed in. Not only did it have a nice view of the city, but a rooftop pool, four jacuzzis (all a different temperatures from cold to hot), and a piping hot sauna. They also had an excellent breakfast buffet. There was an ample selection of eggs, toast, pastries, salad, and noodle soup (kuyteav). An on-site chef with a very tall hat stood ready to customize the noodle soup.

My favorite, however, was bobor, a rice congee dish that is very popular in Cambodia. This was very similar to the porridge dish I had on my first night, but this one had a better savory broth with more garnishes to sprinkle on top. Bobor has a long history in Cambodia, dating back at least 1,000 years.

Kuyteav, a noodle soup often eaten for breakfast.

Bobor.

Garnishments for the bobor.

On our final night in Phnom Penh we went to the night market, which was located across the quay, near the Tonle Sap river. We walked through stalls selling shirts, purses, crafts and a thousand other items.

On the far end we came to the food court where aromatic stalls lined the perimeter. One thing that made this food court unique was that there were no tables and chairs. Instead, colorful mats were laid on the ground, each with its own basket of condiments.

Jordan and I ordered some food and sat on the ground like we were having a picnic. I don't know how common it is to eat on the floor, but I believe it is practiced throughout Southeast Asia.

I ordered the lort cha with beef, a stir-fry using short thick rice noodles topped with an egg. It was fried with garlic, bean sprouts and other greens, and was served on a bed of lettuce. The dish came with a small side of chili oil.

Afterward we ordered a plate of kebabs.  We chose what we wanted, and they deep-fried it for us.  I will admit that I didn't know what any of them were. One looked like an egg and another we guessed was tofu.

Lort cha with beef.

Deep-fried something on a skewer.

Reflecting back on that evening I can remember what the food looked like (probably because I took pictures), but not how it tasted. But I will forever remember the atmosphere⸺the night market, the mats on the floor, the mystique of being in a foreign land.

Shortly after finishing our meal they began rolling up the mats and setting up tables and chairs. My guess is that they did this for the evening influx, the chairs and tables being able to accommodate more people.

The other thing that made that evening memorable was the rain that began to fall shortly after we left the market. We had a mile-walk to reach our hotel. I used an umbrella, but Jordan chose to get soaked. We ended our time in Phnom Penh exactly how we began it⸺in the rain. ♠

Eating dinner at the night market in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

Rocktop Ruin

Rocktop Ruin.

Several years ago I came across an interesting complex of ruins at the top of a deep canyon. One of the ruins stood perched atop and fastened to a solid slab of rock. Below the ruin, on the rock, were etched ancient writings.

I longed to descend below the rim of the canyon and investigate this curious little ruin, but there was only one problem. A solid stripe of sheer cliff prevented me from getting down. Yes, it was only about a thirty foot drop, but I had no rope and it was far enough I didn't want to risk trying to climb down.

I could have returned with a rope, but I decided instead (several years later) to tackle the ruin from the bottom. It would require a long drive on a dirt road, and then at least a four-mile hike over rugged terrain. What else would I find?

This ruin was built in the seam of a rock.

It was a perfect fall morning in late October when I set out. Leaves on the few cottonwood trees had turned yellow and the expanse of sky was completely blue.

Just thirty minutes into the hike I entered a short canyon and found a small overhang with ruins inside. The ruins were built inside a seam or crevice of the cliff, one of them out of reach unless you had a ladder. A rudimentary wall was built as a façade to create an enclosure within the crevice.

This canyon was short-lived and I found myself on a ridge, poking my way toward my destination. In the distance I could see my goal, but between me and it were a myriad of canyons and cliffs, and I didn't want to get into a situation that blocked my travel.

I was amazed at the amount of red rocks stewn everywhere on the hilltops. Most of these were fist-sized or smaller, but many were as big as a basketball. I believe they were chert.

Red rocks strewn everywhere.

Twice I came across ground that looked to me like it might contain ruins below the surface. The ground appeared unnatural, usually in mounds. However there was no other evidence, such as arranged rocks or pottery, to confirm that there were buried ruins. I knew that out here there were probably thousands of mysteries below the surface, which will probably be buried forever.

After several hours of meandering over hills and across canyons, I finally found the drainage that correlated with the ruin I was searching for. I followed it up-canyon until finally it came to a steep boulder-strewn hill that led to the ruins. This was the toughest part of the whole hike because not only was the ascent intense, but it also included finding a feasible route to the top.

Working up a hill tangled in brush and boulders. 

I scaled gigantic boulders and scraped my arms pushing through branches of juniper trees. Over the course of the next 45 minutes I slowly worked my way up 700 feet of tangled scrub toward the top. At last I arrived at the ruins.

The structures were built beneath an alcove, with two rooms in the structure, an inside wall separating them. The left room had one window and one short door, with the part of the outside wall that met the cliff no longer extant. Inside, the ceiling and back wall (cliff) were covered in black soot. Above and to the left of the door, embedded into the front wall, was a small square hole. Perhaps this was used as a spy hole, but it was too close to the ceiling to shoot an arrow from. 

Finally at the ruin.

Soot on the inside of the ruin.

In front of the door was a peculiar ring of rocks. They were not mudded together, nor were they partially buried in the ground. Did the Anasazi build this or was it placed together at a later date?

The room on the right side was less impressive. It had one door and nothing else that piqued my interest other than a corn cob that sat on the ground amidst animal droppings.

A curious ring of rocks in front of the ruin.

An 800-year old corn cob. 

The most fascinating part of the complex, however, was the ruin fastened atop the rock. I discovered that this was not a room at all, but more of a façade. I suppose someone could have taken shelter behind it, but that would have made no sense since they could just as easily have gone inside a room. The rock seemed to have another mysterious purpose.

The wall was very well crafted, with mud adhering the individual rocks. It was obvious that fingers were used smooth the mud while it was wet.

Adding to the mystique of this wall were the petroglyph figurines carved into the rock it sat on. The dominant feature was two vertical zig-zag lines. Between the two lines were two four-legged animals and what looked to me like a bird man. The images above them appeared like an insect flying, an indistinguishable marking, and three claw-like scratches. Of course, all these could have been something completely different than what I perceived them to be. As to what they meant, I wasn't even going to begin to attempt a guess.

In addition to those markings, there were others on the rock that appeared like a four-horned animal, an anthropomorphic man, a fat bird, as well as several other small or faint etchings. The combination of the non-practical wall with the enigmatic writings created a captivating subject. Could this have served a ceremonial or religious purpose?

Rocktop ruin (with a wide-angle lens).

Close-up of the petroglyphs.

I mentioned how I came across this ruin several years ago from the top. It is interesting to note that on the mesa, not too far from this alcove, is the rubble from several circular and square structures. I would dare say it was the dwelling for a very small village, or perhaps several families or a clan. The circular foundations could have been part of a tower. What was the relationship between the ruins above and the ruins below?

The inhabitants of these ancient dwellings, whom I prefer to call Anasazi, were a fascinating group of people. Their ruins are scattered everywhere in the canyons and on the mesas of this beautiful area that I call home. We like to speculate on who they were and what their lives were like, but I honestly believe that we know only a fraction of the truth. ♠

House with a view!

It was dark by the time I arrived in camp. (This picture was taken an hour before I got  back.)

The Long Road to Machu Picchu

Following our visit to Machu Picchu we had a couple hours in the nearby village of Aguas Calientes before catching our return train. While waiting, a distinct thought came into my mind: We are a long way from anywhere!

The sun had already set and in the twilight a crescent moon sat above the steep dark mountains. Here we sat between the Andes mountains and Amazon jungle. I felt an air of mystique that certainly came from the history and culture of the area, but also from the isolation. I reflected on our long journey to arrive at this revered location.

On a plane to Lima, Peru.  We visited during the Covid pandemic. 

Seven Days Earlier:

After a couple days in Lima we boarded a plane for Cusco. If we were to drive, the journey would take at least twenty hours to cover 684 miles! And I'm sure most of that would be on narrow winding roads and nothing like the straight-arrowed freeways we're used to in the United States.

The flight only lasted an hour and a half, but it was fascinating to peer out the window. When clouds didn't obstruct our view we saw tall snow-capped mountains. As we got closer to Cusco it felt as if the land was getting higher (and I'm sure we were getting lower). We saw little villages perched on terraced mountains and a rugged landscape. We even saw the steeply terraced Inca ruins of Tipón.

Inside the Jorge Chavez International Airport in Lima, waiting for a flight to Cusco.

A hazy view out the airplane window before our decent into Cusco.

When we landed in Cusco it felt like we were in a different world. The city itself is over 11,000 feet high in elevation. There was an old world feel with the narrow cobblestoned streets, many of them on steep inclines. The people were much more native than what I saw in Lima, being darker in color with well-defined noses and foreheads, and wearing their traditional Quechua clothing.

After a few days in Cusco it was time to keep moving. We left our hotel at 9:20 am and walked for twenty minutes with packs on our shoulders to Pavitos Street where right away we were invited to join a minivan, which we shared with six other passengers. I wasn't even sure if our van was the real deal, or just a citizen trying to earn money. We read that this was the place to go to find rides to Ollantaytambo. Either way, we took it.

The drive took a couple hours. It was amazing to me that our journey to one of the wonders of the world was over such rough infrastructure. The roads were narrow and winding. Once we had to take a detour onto a dirt road. At times we shared the road with cattle. It was fascinating to catch a glimpse of the people and buildings of these small villages.

Inside the private vehicle of a stranger on the way to Ollantaytambo.

Looking out the window of our vehicle at an Inca lady in a small Peruvian village. 

One common misconception is that Machu Picchu is super high in elevation. It's not. As we drove from Cusco, we gradually dropped in elevation. As we neared Ollantaytambo we entered the Sacred Valley, a 62-mile corridor stretching from Pisac to Machu Picchu along the the Urubamba River. Here the scenery became more breathtaking. Mountains became steeper and Inca ruins more prevalent.

We arrived in Ollantaytambo where we would spend the next three nights and use as our base to Machu Picchu. Ollantaytambo is probably the most impressive village I've ever seen. It lies nestled between steep mountain slopes with some of the best Inca ruins built onto their sides. Streets are cobblestoned and narrow, and people there dress in traditional clothing. From some places in the village you can see 19,000 foot snow-capped peaks of the Andes Mountains.

The fascinating village of Ollantaytambo.

Beyond Ollantaytambo the road system peters out. The one paved “highway” goes a few miles past the village, then takes a sharp turn to the right and into the mountains. There are dirt roads from village to village, but they too disappear. The only option left, unless you want to take a very circuitous route, is to take the train.

I believe there are more options for locals, but for the tourists there are a limited amount of trains you can take and the price to board them is higher. It is best to book well in advance.

On the second of our two full days, we walked to the station and boarded the train. This ride would take us through the Sacred Valley. Some trains have a glass ceiling so you can look up at the mountains, but ours didn't. Instead we had a view through the window, which was beautiful, but oftentimes we were too close to the mountain slope to see much.

The entire time we paralleled the clear and cold Urubamba River. We passed several lesser-known Inca ruins. The Inca Trail was also within our view at times. For the ambitious who want to walk to Machu Picchu, that's the way to go. The majestic snow-capped Mount Veronica at 19,334 feet also peeked out from time to time.  

As I rode the train and glanced out the window I had the feeling that we were getting deeper and deeper into the wilderness. My life back home was getting further away.

Boarding the train in Ollantaytambo.

The train to Machu Picchu travels through the Sacred Valley along the Urubamba River.

Terraced slopes built by the Inca, viewed from the train.

After an hour and a half we arrived near the foot of Machu Picchu in a town called Aguas Calientes. Even more so than Ollantaytambo, Aguas Calientes was surrounded by steep mountains. But unlike the others, the slopes here were covered in jungle.

The village sits on both sides of the Aguas Calientes River, which empties into the Urubamba. The town basically exists as a launching point to drive up to Machu Picchu. Once we left the train it was a short walk to where we would catch the bus. Many were there to sell us tours.

This is where the train dropped us off in Aguas Calientes.

Here we caught the bus to Machu Picchu.

The bus ride from Aguas Calientes to the parking lot at Machu Picchu was short, but impressive. It followed the river a couple miles then started the uphill push where it navigated 13 hairpin curves. The higher we got, the more impressive the view. We were surrounded by steep mountains on three sides, all cloaked in dense vegetation. It made me wonder how many other ruins were out there that were lost forever beneath the growth.

Our visit inside Machu Picchu did not disappoint. Our tour guide was excellent. It was amazing to see the ingenuity of this citadel on a mountain. I was surprised to see lamas on top, as well as megalithic carved rocks like those in Ollantaytambo and Sacsayhuamán. The only downside⸺and this was because we were there during Covid⸺was that we couldn't linger as long as we wanted. When purchasing the tickets we had to choose which “lane” we wanted to see, a number between one and four. We had to go straight through without backtracking. I lost track of time, but we probably spent 2-3 hours on top. 

Impressive view of the surrounding hills as we climb the road to Machu Picchu.

A smaller river runs down the center of Aguas Calientes.

Not knowing when we would be done, we gave ourselves a small cushion in Aguas Calientes before our scheduled return to Ollantaytambo. That gave us time to get a bite to eat and to wander through the market. It was dark by the time we boarded the train.

For our ride back we saw none of the Sacred Valley as we had before. No snow-capped mountains, no whitewashed river, no Inca ruins. Perhaps this added to the mystique. As I dozed in and out of sleep I dreamed that I was in a magical place far, far away . . . ♠

Caribbean Blue

The catamaran comes to an easy stop a couple hundred yards from the palm-studded shore. The aqua-blue water is the most beautiful I've ever seen. It is transparent and I can see the white sandy bottom of the shallow sea.

We strip down to our bathing suits and step down the ladder into the warm translucent water. I feel the fine sandy grain beneath my feet and in the cracks of my toes.

I pull goggles over my eyes and slip into the sea. Like an amphibious creature I stroke my arms and legs and feel the salty liquid flow across my shoulders. I stare down at the floor of the sea and watch it roll beneath me, unblemished. Occasionally there is a strand of seaweed or a tiny crab burrowing a hole.

I come up for air, slide the goggles over my head, and wipe my eyes with my arm. Jenelle is there and she has something to show me. She leads me over near the catamaran to our new German friends. They are holding a large orange and red starfish they found on the sand. It is beautiful!

Our time is up and we now climb back onto the catamaran and once again raise the sail. We cruise along the deep-blue waters with coastline in sight. I enjoy the breeze across my face and occasional splash of water. Boaters lean over the railing and take pleasure in the moment.

The catamaran comes to an easy stop at the white sandy shore of Saona Island. It is the most beautiful beach I've ever seen. Palm trees by the hundreds grow on and around the beach, including one on the shore that grows diagonally over the water. The sand is fine. Swimmers lounge in the luke-warm water. Plastic beach chairs sit reclined beneath a blaring golden sun. Thatched pavilions offer shade for those in need.

I lie down on my chair, close my eyes, and imagine what this island would be like with no people. In my mind I envision it is sunset. A small fire near the shore crackles and beyond that the waves lap across the sand. There are no other noises because no one else is here. The sea unfolds forever on the horizon, putting an eternity between me and the closest person.

In my daydream I envision what this island must have been like in another time. I am Robinson Crusoe. This island is my home. I sleep on the sand and bathe in the ocean. I drink the milk of coconuts and the water of a gurgling spring. Sunsets come and go and storms stir up the angry sky. It is peaceful. I am alone. I relish the moment in my mind.

But I am not alone on Saona Island. It is filled with people. Yet it is still beautiful.

Jenelle and I walk along the shore, sometimes with our feet in the frothy white of the waves. We see small boats docked along the edge, floating atop the greenish-blue water.

Further afield the beach is less sandy, but filled with smooth rocks and driftwood. Jenelle finds a conch shell larger than her hand.

We walk near the crooked palm. There is a line of people waiting to get their picture as they climb atop the tree. We pause to watch and note the notoriety of the palm.

The sun becomes more intense as the day moves on. I feel the heat on my chest and sense the beginning of a burn. Without further delay I wade into the water and dive head first into the silky sea. Instantly it drowns the heat and ripples through my hair as I propel myself forward. I stand up and let the droplets drizzle down my skin.

Others relax in the water also. A man with swarthy skin paddles a canoe. A crew of Dominican workers bring a boat to shore and tie it down. Women clad in bikinis lie face-down on the sand and let the Caribbean sun bake their backs and shoulders.

After a couple hours of dallying on the island it is time to load the boat and head back. This time we don't board a catamaran, but instead a speedboat. We put on life jackets and squeeze tightly onto benches.

Then, with a lurch, the boat takes off at an amazing pace. No longer do we casually move across the blue water, but now we accelerate at a voracious speed. Wind races across our faces and with every small undulation the boat springs out of the water with air beneath the hull. Everyone wears a smile because this ride is as good as anything at Disneyland! ♠