Saturday 19 April 2008

The rest of Battambong time.




2/4 = Out with Mony, pronounced Mooney, on his moto today. He is the one who picked me up the first day in Battambong. He suggested I don’t go to the killing cave of the Khmer Rouge and after speaking to Martin and James, he is right, it is a bit of an uphill hike, so we are off into the countryside, but only after he insisted I have some breakfast. He pointed out a bakery over the way, so I grabbed a couple of pastries while he waited. He is ad-libing it as we go along, but it was thoroughly enjoyable. We stopped first just outside of town for a bottle of Johnnie Walker, full of petrol. I have discovered that this petrol is smuggled in from Vietnam, so is cheaper. If I told you how I discovered that, I’d have to kill you all, so just take my word for it. We motored along the country lanes, Mony looking for something to stop for and he spotted a mobile rice mill. I don’t think he knew what it was himself. The was a lad repairing, or overhauling it. After he replaced a couple of drive belts, he set it going and was tapping slides and adjusting bolts, then put it into neutral by pushing a piece of wood that slid the wide leather drive belt onto and idler pulley. Thomo will understand. Now he took a cover off, did a bit of tweaking and set it in gear again. Now they were happy with the resultant rice, not too much chaff or small rice. “It took me back to the good old days, before all this electronic rubbish, when you could see what was going on”, said the grumpy old man. It was impressive that the machine with an old Nissan engine, a new Chinese engine, and constructed of part wood, part, leather and part metal could produce 3 different products at the end. Mony had been chatting with the owner while I watched the overhaul and seemed happy with what he now knew, so we headed off. The owner takes the mill around farms and separates the rice for farmers. I think he takes meal and small rice for animal feed or to sell as payment.
The next stop was at a place that was house and work place. 2 ladies were surrounded by 8 foot bamboo frames with 8 inch white circles on them. I had no idea what was going on. They are rice paper that is used to wrap the fresh spring rolls. It is clever how the process works. A rice liquid is spread over a metal cone, similar in shape to the hats worn in the fields, and the cone is over boiling water, when the paste gets to the right consistency, the 1st lady transfers them to a bamboo former, a thick piece of bamboo to cool and the 2nd lady transfers them to the frames. The fire is fuelled by rice husks. Nothing gets wasted around here. I could sit and watch people work for hours, as the saying goes. There were a lot of these places in the village we are in. It often seems that villages specialise in certain crafts.
Next up was the mushroom farm, but this was bad timing, as the compost was due to be replaced, so instead of producing 30Kg, it is now only producing 5Kg per day. The compost is sterilised in a steamer first then the fungus spores added and put into rolls about the size of a new kitchen roll, held in plastic. A sprinkler system, like that of a fire extinguisher system in a hotel, sprays the compost daily. There is another method using straw in the front garden, but this doesn’t look as productive. This place also grow bean sprouts. It looks like they are thrown in a pot, watered for 5 days then sold on. Mony asked if I would give 2000 riel/12p to each place as we go along. The young lass in this place was reluctant to take it. She is about 14 and in charge whilst her Mam and Dad are away. I never got out of Mony where they were. She has to attend school too.
We carried onto a ruined Wat and new pagoda with a huge Buddha. There were some stalls here, so we had a coconut to drink and some vegetable and noodles. Mony told me to add sugar, lime and some homemade chilli sauce and this worked, because it tasted great. I think the Khmer food is not so spicy, so that you can spice it up yourself, to your required taste. Mony then had his coconut split open, sprinkled sugar on it and scooped it out. “It’s like coconut ice cream”, he told me. Mony gave me a rundown on Cambodia’s recent history while we sat here. They have had it tough and nobody seems to have much faith in the present government. I went for a wander while Mony finished his coconut and had a swing in a hammock. I wasn’t going into the Wat, it cost a couple of dollars and didn’t look much. I came across some kids playing a local game with big brown nuts. It’s a bit like skittles. They shouted me over and I was on my way when the Tourist policeman turned up. I had to sign a book to stay around, but the gist was he wanted 2 dollars off me. I told him I wasn’t going into the Wat, so then he decided I didn’t have to sign, so I headed off back to the kids and he said that was 1 dollar, so I gave up and went back to Mony. I paid up for the food and drink, 2 dollars, unbelievable and we set off through lots of dry paddy fields to a monument. I thought “Why has Mony come here?” Then I spotted the skulls in the windows of the monuments. It is a memorial for some of the victims of the Khmer Rouge, found in this killing field and a monument to what a set of bastards the Khmer Rouge were. The engravings are very graphic and the torture descriptions very blunt. This was the saddest part of my travels so far. It’s not real what us humans will do to each other at times.

We travelled on over some bumpy roads and the moto developed a knock. Mony went along checking out the roadside home/businesses, hairdressers, tailors, grocers, then he found the bicycle/moto repair shop. He pulled in and a few thumps and adjustments were tried and finally we were on our way at the third attempt. We were headed for the dory/bamboo train. I didn’t know what to expect. The rail line to Phnom Phen is only used once a day, in alternating directions, the train comes in one day and leaves the next, so the locals make use of the line with norries to move themselves and cargo along the track. On the way here, we pulled over by the roadside to wake a lady in a hammock and buy a water melon from her. Mony was tapping them and chuntering with the lady over which one to take. I said “That one will do”. To which he told me another tourist had him travelling around the stalls to find a good one. It cost about 40p and was delicious. We shared it around while waiting for the bamboo train driver. Mind you we were lucky to get it there, as I was carrying it on the back of the moto over some dodgy roads. There was an Irish lass turned up for the train too, so we shared one to reduce the costs. She looked a bit nervous when the driver turned up, he is about 15 and him and his mate started constructing the norry. It is a small bamboo platform that sits ontop of 2 sets of train wheels, like barbells, one with a small engine. The track is up and down with big gaps in it and this is the main Phnom Phen line. I think I’ll be going by bus. It is constructed in no time, the 2 motos loaded up and a mat put down for us to sit on, then we are off. The ride is more like a fairground ride than a train ride. We met 2 norries coming the other way, but they had no passengers, so our crew jumped off and helped dismantle it, push us passed and then reassemble it. A bit further on a load of wood is being taken across the track and loaded onto a trailer behind a Honda 125. This held us up for about 10 minutes, but I don’t know why, we could have gone passed, but it was entertaining. Once we set off again, we arrived quickly. 8 dollars for 2. Daylight robbery, but good fun. Back on the moto and homeward bound. Mony stopped at the taxi rank to check out prices to Pursat, my next port of call. It is 5 dollars with 4 people in the back and 2 in the front. I think it will be a bit of a crush, so opted for the bus at 6 dollars. The bus is the Phnom Phen bus and it doesn’t matter where you get off, the price is full fare for Phnom Phen. Back to the hotel and a sit on the bench out the front. It is a good spot for a chat and a watch. The moto drivers like to chat. I have stopped here each night before hitting the sack. I did an ATM run, so I could go to the Riverside club for some nosh and after a shower, Mony told me he would take me. He asked what I was doing tomorrow, normal soliciting. I told him I was just going to do some interneting, so he immediately dragged me off to the Internet café, he said he wanted to check his emails. This turned into a bit of a saga. He couldn’t remember how to do it, what his userid was and perhaps the spelling of the password. Now I understand why he wanted me along. We got there in the end and his last email was from June 2007. Someone had set it up for him and she was the last and only one to send him an email. He is thinking ahead, but I don’t think Mony is set to be an IT person. I wrote it all down for him, to give him more chance the next time he uses it, probably Christmas. Now he asked me to wait for 5 minutes while he does a bit of shopping, then he can drop me on the way home, so 3 days later, here I am at the Riverside Club. The music here is good, local music, blues a good mellow mixture. To carry on with the local theme I ordered a decadent burger and chips. The beer was local. The burger was smashing, not like fast food. I sat and chilled for a while reading in the balcony bar above the river, no shoes allowed. This is the life. Another beer and a big time chill and I set off back wondering if I’d be able to pick up a moto. I went about 50 metres and an old fella pulled up. We did the usual bartering. 1 dollar. No, 2000 riel. 3000 riel?? No 2000 riel, then I walked off and he gave in. It is only 50p, but fairs fare. Why should us whities be stung. Back and no sitting chatting on the bench tonight, straight to bed.

3 / 4 = It’s a complete relax day today with an e-session. I went to the bakery and bought a baguette and raison twirl, but fancied a brew, so went to the café on the market. I struggled a bit, but got a pot of tea and the menu. I didn’t fancy any of the noodles or rice, so ate my baguette. I went to pay and the young lass who served me told me the tea is free. I’ll be back here. I felt a bit guilty, so coughed up a few riel, which the lass took very sheepishly.
I found a bench in the shade by the river and sat for a relax. It wasn’t long before a lad joined me to practice his English, genuinely, no scam. The sun moved so I did too, I was headed for the Internet Café, but spotted another bench in the shade and it was lovely and cool to sit on to. The ones that have been out in the sun are like storage heaters. I was checking the LP for some place to go to next and a Frenchman joined me, Phillipe and started chatting. I didn’t need the LP now, he knows everywhere. He has been coming for 15 years and lives in Thailand until the rainy season comes, then he sets off to S.E. Asia. He has some good stories and speaks good English and like to use it. He is a Buddist too, but doesn’t push it at me.
A young lad joined us and asked if we would like to teach an English lesson for the poor kids he teaches. The village is about 7Km away and he will pick us up and drop us back and we can give a donation if we wish. Phillipe is up for the teaching, but not the donation, which seems fair to me. He teaches in Thailand and tells the lad he usually gets paid for teaching or at least free board when he volunteers. I am up for it too. A few Geordie speaking Cambodians has to be a good thing. The lad now tells us we can get a moto for 7 dollars, which is way over the odds, also he is sad that we wont donate anything. He has picked on the wrong one in Phillipe. He gave the lad a real lecture, but is still up for the teaching. Now the lad goes cold on the lift and keeps pushing for a donation, so I guess it is a lie. It is the same lad who approached me yesterday, but I didn’t stop. Phillipe gave him every chance, but the lad left, complete with flea in ear.
We sat a while longer, 2 grumpy old men putting the world to rights. He is well up on affairs in S.E. Asia. He has a bias towards the Thais and is a bit wary of Cambodians. He thinks there will be unrest after the June elections. Something for me to keep an eye out for. He headed off for a Wat to find an old monk to talk to, as if I didn’t fit the bill???
I finally made the internet café, a few hours later than expected and afterwards I realised I still had my raisin twirl, so off for a coffee I went.
After showering I went for another free pot of tea. Who is tight???? This time I ordered some food, fried rice, chicken and veg. I added the spice as shown by Mony. I was actually headed for the Smokin’ Pot, but they were packing up at 19:00 when I got there and I couldn’t face the ladies with their kids again. What a whimp!!!! I tried to force myself, but copped out. Then it was back for a natter on the bench outside the hotel and bed.

http://picasaweb.google.com/brooks.gilbert/SiemReapToBattambong

1 comment:

Unknown said...

Hello Gil,

What I would like to know is, if Mony is pronounced “Mooney”, then why isn’t his moto pronounced “mootoo”…? That little enunciation paved the way for more humour like; "oold moonk" or "Smookin' Poot" or even “coocoonut". No……? Oh well, I thought I would just mention it. AND… how come he insisted you have some breakfast that morning..? That’s a first..!! (Ha-ha)

I laughed at the boot-leg petrol, and got a good picture of you both “mootooring” along the country lanes on the “mootoo” with “Mooney” ad-libbing as you went along. I would love to have been behind you…it would have been a good out-take for BBC2 programme “Grumpy Old Men”.

Your description of how that lad got the old mobile rice mill working was brilliant! It reminded me of when my Dad had an old Ford Prefect, and whenever the engine failed to start, or it stalled for some reason while he was driving it, he would get out, lift the bonnet and give the crank shaft a BIG whack with a hammer! This always got us going again until finally, there were no more teeth left on the crank shaft to whack…!!

It must be really interesting to see how they make various things over there, such as rice paper and how they grow bean sprouts! I’ve sprouted my own bean sprouts too, as well as chickpeas, alfalfa seeds, mung beans, aduki beans and such like…they’re delicious! It’s also good to learn how they spice up their food.

The game the children were playing with those big brown nuts reminded me of conkers! If their nuts can be pierced (a bit painful I know) and a piece of string threaded through, then wouldn't it be great if could show them how the game is played?

I could imagine it must have been very traumatic when you saw the memorial full of human skulls in one of the killing fields. I’ve been reading up on the history of Cambodia and the Khmer Rouge, and could not believe the atrocities that happened. I hope you avoided seeing the Chankiri Killing Tree, which upset me just reading about it.

On a lighter note, what did you slice your watermelon with? And also the pineapples you've enjoyed? You must carry one hell of a boy scout’s knife! Or did your mate Crocodile Dundee lend you his for the trip..? Just as well you remembered to pack the moist wipes, they come in real handy at times (ha-ha..)!

The latest photo’s you have put up on your gallery are absolutely brilliant. They give a very informative view of the place and how the people go about their daily lives there. Well done you…


Carol x