Continuing stardom

Continuing randomness from my illustrious sister:

Episode 2 Angkor Wat

What (ha ha ok sorry that joke is old) can I say about Angkor Wat?

Go. That's all I can say. You can look at all the pictures you want but the feelings of enchantment and intrigue you feel as you wander among the ancient stones and the faces of Jayavarman VII stare down at you from above cannot be captured in photographs. You can only take a little piece of those feelings home with you and I am afraid they will wane with time. Put this at the top of your 'TO SEE' list.

as an aside-or rather, the only this is in any way funny-the ingenuity of the children hawking things at the temples was unbelievable. the chorus of 'buy my postcard' and 'you want scarf?' follows one everywhere.

witness the following exchanges:

me: 'I don't need any postcards. I have no friends'
seller: 'Then who did you just eat lunch with?'
me: 'But they're here, I'm not going to send them a
postcard.'
seller: 'Your parents! They want a postcard.'
seller delivers note on lunch table wishing my family happiness and health complete with flower drawing, accompanied by the caveat that 'nothing is free.'

The kids rattle off facts about the UK (it is composed of England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland. Its capital is London. I love David Beckham) when you tell them that's where you're from and can speak myriad languages-Irish was among those spotted. I decided to test them one day when I'd had it with my bike lock: 'What I really need is a new bike lock' I said 'Ok ok' they all said, 'a good one now' I said, 'I've got to have a look at it first.' Lo and behold a new bike lock (hopefully not ripped off from some other unsuspecting tourist) appeared when I came back for my bike. The price was a little steep and I decided to just deal with the old one in the end, but I was well pleased with their diligence. Maybe I am a heartless bastard, and should have bought it.



Episode 3 The Culinary Desert of Kampot

Upon arrival at our guest house in Kampot Ealron and I had trouble locating the menu until we realized the small triangular item on the table was actually it. the diverse offerings included fried rice or noodles with vegetables. too tired and hungry to explore the town in the dark we opted for the fried rice and veg-yum. Breakfast was just as diverse, with the customary extraordinarily chewy Khmer bread (they apparently adopted this foodstuff from the french, but i think something in the recipe was lost in translation) and jam or la vache qui rit cheese. Our day's 50 km cycle to the nearby abandoned seaside town of Kep was rewarded with...you guessed it...fried rice with vegetables, and heaping portions too-the street kids happily ate our leftovers! We thought we'd be adventuresome and go out and look for dinner that night...we innocently went in search of the 'International Restaurant' only to find a half lit establishment that might have once been a restaurant no longer looking like one at all. now in the seedier part of town and quite hungry our only option appeared to be the famed (for scams and general trickery) Mealy Chenda guesthouse. A lady in her pjs answered th e door and showed us up to the rooftop. The menu looked to be an oasis until it turned out they had neither spaghetti, nor pumpkin soup nor a burger nor any of the other items on their menu. Knowing well this was all we were going to get and ignoring our quite real hunger, we took their last portion of french fries and shared it, with a banana milkshake which I admittedly drank most of. Not quite what we'd been hoping for after a day's cycling.

The offerings for the following day's motorbike journey up the nearby mountain were equally enticing: rice with fried, mixed vegetables was proposed for all 3 meals. We managed to convince our motorbike driver that we could eat bread for 3 of the meals and didn't quite require 2 kilos of rice. so there it was: la vache qui rit and chewy Khmer bread, and rice with mixed vegetables. Exploring the abandoned buildings at the top of the mountain (the French built and used them up until 1950 but since then, they've been languishing in the bushes when not housing Khmer Rouge forces) in thick mist was an otherworldly experience. In all that mist, somehow, Ealron and I managed t o miss the largest of the buildings-the old casino. Having come up part of the way with 3 of us on a trials dirt bike made for 2, we decided to walk down the mountain which was far more serene and less hair raising. The highlights for me were palms that looked like they belong with the dinosaurs and our encounter with a group of maybe 4 great hornbills who first flew overhead and then swooped from tree to tree in the distance as we looked out over the plain.

Upon our return to Kampot following said mountain adventure, we again found ourselves desirous of some hearty food. We made for an establishment we knew to be in operation and with some decent food. Unfortunately, it being 8 pm all they were serving was...surprise-baguettes! and crepes. although not quite what we'd been looking for, we went for the crepes and they were welcome. Even upon leaving Kampot the following day, the culinary strangeness struck again: in the car, which we shared with a Khmer lady, she began to eat a strange stodgy object wrapped in a banana leaf-my conjecture was a giant sausage in sticky rice. We must have been looking at it too intently, because before long, we unwittingly found ourselves in possession of one. After much discussion about how exactly to refuse this item without being rude, we opened up the trusty lonely planet to the language section. Ealron located 'I feel nauseous' and pointed to it. The lady immediately had a look of fear on her face, and was about to stop the taxi when he said 'no no no, I'm ok, I just can't eat this now.' with various hand gestures, somehow he message got across and the driver and lady had a good laugh.