Thursday 18 October 2018

CYCLE TOURING MYANMAR (3) - LINDA 2018

 


THAILAND (17.1), MYANMAR (3), THAILAND (18)
1531 Km – 36 Days
12 September – 17 October 2018

Photos 


 

12 September – Bangkok

Linda landed in Bangkok, jet-lagged following a 27-hour long-haul flight from Fort Lauderdale and after much chatting over a beer, we turned in early.

 

13 September – Bangkok

There were loads to talk about since Linda left in January and following a few coffees, the two of us headed to the familiar Gecko Bar for breakfast. The canal ferry was a fun way to explore Bangkok, and hopping on one to pick up my laptop from the Pantip Plaza saved time and money. Bangkok offered a great deal to see, and the river ferry made easy exploring and provided effortless access to the Temple of Dawn. One last job remained, and we hailed a taxi to the Myanmar embassy to collect my visa. Due to the hectic Bangkok traffic, our cab made it to the Embassy minutes before it closed.

That evening strolling the backstreets of Banglamphu, we met Edward (Ted) Jones Whitehead, author of the book Down Below. At 95, he was remarkably energetic and still with a twinkle in the eye. Typical of a real old seadog, he soon hauled out his packet of fags while enjoying a beer. A truly remarkable man and an honour to meet him.

 

14 September – Bangkok

Breakfast was a bowl of noodle soup, and then off to the supermarket to stock up on bits and bobs needed. After collecting the laundry, Linda set out exploring, and I headed to China Town to hunt for a cup water heater. With its warren of stalls and labyrinthian alleyways, Chinatown offered the whole shebang from food to fluffy teddy bears and jewellery. It’s a vast and lively area where it took pushing and shoving my way through the mass of bodies. The trick was locating the right market. Eventually, after considerable directing from traders, I came upon the electrical appliance section. Unsure if I would ever find the market again, I bought two.

My bicycle was still at the bike shop, and a visit to the shop revealed a broken spoke, meaning it would only be ready the following day. Finally, a tight squeeze on the back of a motorbike taxi, took Linda and me to Khao San Road. The motorbike raced through the traffic, arriving at our destination just as it started raining.

 

15 September – Bangkok

Plans of catching a bus to the Myanmar border went by the wayside as my bike was only going to be ready at 11 am. After a leisurely start, an amble to the Gecko Bar provided breakfast. Linda trundled off to the famous Golden Mount and I returned to the guesthouse to wait for the delivery of my bicycle.

Once all our errands were done, we could explore more of old Bangkok. The old man selling the second-hand false teeth and bridges were still there. I was surprised to notice the teeth were steadily becoming less (I kid you not!). Equally fascinating was the amulet market where they sold more ominous items than only innocent Buddha necklaces. In fact, a few looked downright voodoo-ish!

By evening, enjoying our Chang beers on the roof terrace of our guesthouse, a massive storm rolled in, making a quick escape to a nearby restaurant. No sooner seated, the rain arrived with one almighty bang! It bucketed down as we sat watching the thunder and lightning. By the time our meal was finished, the storm had passed, and we sloshed through the puddles without as much as feeling a drop.

 

16 September – Bangkok to Mae Sot (by bus)

A short cycle led to the bus terminus. Being Sunday morning, traffic was light. Once at the bus station, the bus to Mae Sot came as a pleasant surprise and was more comfortable than expected. It nevertheless remained a 7-hour ride to Mae Sot, a scruffy border town with questionable border trade.

The First Hotel was a great choice as the place was quite remarkable with an imposing Burmese teak staircase and intricate ceiling carvings. Our minds boggled at what all could be done with such an impressive building.

Then, off to the famous, Khrua Canadian restaurant. Dave, the Canadian owner, had at the time of our visit been living in Thailand for the past 20 years and, together with his wife, ran a highly successful restaurant serving Western cuisine to farangs craving food from home. We returned to our accommodation with full bellies and prepared to cross the border into Myanmar the following morning.

 

MYANMAR (3)

 

17 September - Mae Sot, Thailand – Kawkareik, Myanmar – 55 km

A short cycle ride via the Friendship Bridge, spanning the Moei River, led to the Thai-Myanmar border. Once in Myawaddy, situated on the Myanmar side of the river, we found ourselves in a substantially more chaotic area. Amidst the dust, tuk-tuks, bicycle rickshaws and trucks, we obtained new SIM cards and changed a few dollars. Quite a feat, taking neither Linda nor I had any command of Burmese. The Myanmar Kyat had an exchange rate of 1,000 kyats to 1 USD, and it took purchasing a new wallet to store all the notes. Together with minivans, busses and what looked like an endless procession of motorbikes, two bewildered foreigners cycled out of Myawaddy.

The ride over the mountain was steep but came with spectacular views; mercifully, the weather was cloudy. Once over the high point, the road sped down to the small town of Kawkareik, where a room at the Smile World Guest House came at the exorbitant rate of $20! The place was a dump, but there was nothing better in town, and as Linda commented, the only one smiling was the owner.

A suanter into town revealed a beautiful Hindu temple and a lovely Buddhist one, but only a few eateries. Once seated at the only open restaurant, we were asked quizzically, “Myanmar?” and after indicating “Yes”, we waited in great anticipation to see what our order of “Myanmar” meant. Then, finally, the food arrived and consisted of rice and many small bowls filled with exotic dishes. Even trying our level best, such a substantial amount was served, it was impossible to finish what was served.

 

18 September – Kawakareik – Hpa-An – 92 km

On departing, priority was to find something to eat before heading to Hpa-An. Unfortunately, the roadside eateries didn’t reveal much besides the fruit that Linda bought. At the same time, I opted for a bag of fried snacks, consisting of samosas, puri, and deep-fried dough. I was sure it contained enough calories to see me through the next week!

To have said the road was slow going, bumpy, and potholed would’ve been an understatement. We bounced along past people working in rice fields and skilful fishermen casting nets. The congested road led us through small settlements where buses and trucks slowly manoeuvred along a narrow, potholed road. There was no other option than to follow suit and snake around the muddy holes as best we could.

Towards the end of the day, the route deteriorated further, becoming muddy or dusty as it made its way over the hills. Nonetheless, the scenery was sublime, and the roadside stalls sold an interesting array of dried and fried fish. The poor road conditions and humidity made it an exhausting ride. To our relief, Hpa-An came into view, where accommodation was substantially better than the previous night.

 

19 September – Hpa-An – Mawlamyine – 65 km

An early morning meander through the market revealed a scene that could’ve been in the days of Kipling. Men with tanned faces shaded by bamboo hats peddled sidecars in flip-flop feet. Others with heavy bags of rice on their backs shuffled to waiting trucks; boy monks collected food, and ladies with painted faces sold fruit and vegetables.

From Hpa-An, a short ride led to Mawlamyine, and the route significantly improved from the previous day. A short detour led to the surreal Kyauk Ka Lat Pagoda. The pagoda balanced precariously atop a limestone pinnacle at the centre of a manmade lake. From there our path led past ever-present, optimistic fishermen using all conceivable methods to catch something for the pot. The most successful were men snorkelling and spearing with a rudimentary spear made of bamboo, between the rice paddies. Finally, we pedalled past small rural hamlets where bare-bum kids played beside the highway and chickens pecked in the dirt.

At a river, the road abruptly came to an end. Luckily, a tiny wooden boat ferried us across from where a minor way led to Mawlamyine—formerly known as Moulmein, and famous for its pagoda-adorned Mawlamyine Ridge.

The Sandalwood Hotel was our abode of choice and, once offloaded, each wandered off in their own direction. I walked along the waterfront past old, crumbling colonial-era buildings and meandered through Mawlamyine’s chaotic market area. It could’ve been 1826! Finally, I strolled along to the Kyaik-Thanlan pagoda, erected in 875 A. D. and said to house a hair relic of the Buddha. Afterwards, I met up with Linda and walked to the Mahamuni Pagoda and the waterfront for a meal.

 

20 September - Mawlamyine

Being a fascinating and unusual place, the next day was spent in Mawlamyine. A stroll through the morning market indicated the importance of chewing paan and using traditional makeup. Even though traditional makeup is used in many ancient societies worldwide, it’s rarely used in everyday life, as in Myanmar. As in Myanmar, about every woman uses face paint. I thought it delightful that both men and women were still wearing the traditional sarong.

A tea house made an excellent place to watch the world go by. The clientele was primarily longyi-clad men with red, paan-stained teeth, sipping sweet milk tea, chatting with friends, or reading the paper. Then, off to see the enormous reclining Buddha about 20 kilometres south of Mawlamyine. Finally, the evening was spent walking along the promenade and drinking beer at a local joint—an excellent way to end the day.

 

21 September – Mawlamyine – Thaton – 70 km

Included in the room rate was breakfast, after which our path headed in the direction of Thaton. The route ran past numerous temples, and golden, stupa-adorned mountaintops. A short detour led to a nearby waterfall, once again, with a stupa at the top. After walking up the stairs and snapping a few pics of the plains below, we returned to the bikes for the ride to Thaton.

Situated on the Tenasserim plains, the route was flat and cycling enjoyable. Arrival in Thaton was early, and a basic guesthouse made good enough digs. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to do in Thaton but walk to the Shwe Sar Yan Pagoda. It wasn’t the most spectacular Burmese temple but still a pleasant enough way to spend a few minutes. The amble to our establishment was past a roadside restaurant with tables on the pavement, which made a perfect place to watch the daily life of Thaton go by while having supper.

 

22 September – Thaton – Kyaikto – 70 km

A good road ran to Kyaikto, where the conveniently located Happy Guest House lured us in. Once the bikes were offloaded and following a shower and lunch, Linda and I headed to the Golden Rock. The famous Golden Rock of Myanmar, or “Kyaiktiyo Pagoda”, is situated atop a mountain. Reaching it first involved hailing a motorbike taxi to where large trucks ran up the mountain. The truck could take about 40 people and, once filled, it headed up the steep mountain pass. Due to the severity of the gradient, no other vehicles were allowed up the pass. Hanging on for dear life, the truck (what felt like) recklessly sped up the mountain. On top was a small community and no less than three hotels. The fog rolled in, and, in no time at all, one could hardly see anything at all. Still, we made our way to the rock, precariously balanced on top of a cliff. Then, a no less scary bus ride returned to the starting point.

 

23 September – Kyaikto – Bago –119 km

A lavish breakfast consisted of fried noodles and eggs, just the thing needed to see us through the day. Rural roads took us past tiny settlements where time appeared to have stood still. Our path slowly deteriorated, turning into a small footpath and, eventually, came to a complete halt. The only option was to return to the main road, making it a longer day than anticipated.

On reaching Bago, Linda located the Amara Gold Hotel, which was more than adequate. With its outdoor rooms, it made easy loading and offloading of bikes.

 

24 September – Bago – Yangon – 81 km

From Bago to Yangon, there was no option to take rural paths; all one could do was stick to the motorway heading into Yangon. As usual, the road was busy and, as one neared the city, the heavier the traffic became. Still, we miraculously made it to our destination unscathed.

Yangon is an old city founded at least a thousand years ago by the Mon people. According to legend, the city’s most famous landmark, the Shwedagon Pagoda, was founded during the time of the Buddha. Since then, the town has developed around the pagoda. Yangon is a fascinating city, where Buddhist monks walk the streets barefoot, men wear traditional longyi clothing, and bicycle rickshaws remain a popular form of transport. Graced with an ensemble of old colonial British rule buildings, coupled with its riverside location, made it a fascinating place to linger. The Sakura Tower, with its rooftop bar and restaurant, was a great place to share a drink and snap a few pics of the city. Supper was at the aptly named Vista Bar with a magnificent view of the impressive and beautifully lit Shwedagon Pagoda.

 

25 September – Yangon

The following day was spent in Yangon as there was a multitude of things to see and do.

 

26 September - Yangon – Okkan - 101 km

Again, there was no other option but to follow the main road, making getting out of Yangon a nightmare. The main road didn’t make exciting riding, but, eventually the road spat us out in the countryside, exactly where we wanted to be and amongst familiar rice fields. Our route continued past lone monks and fishermen. Men in lungis, under bamboo hats, peddled bicycles with sidecars, and women with painted faces sold wares from woven baskets balanced on their heads. Parents sat on their haunches outside schools waiting to collect their little ones, and, as always, the path led past numerous Buddhist temples, some more lavish than others. Rudimentary houses and small food stalls lined our route. Kids sporting umbrellas returned from school as we made our way past forgotten graveyards.

A light lunch was from a roadside stop. Shortly afterwards, Linda and I rolled into Okken, which sported comfortable lodging. The staff was incredibly accommodating, and I had the feeling that not many foreigners overnighted in Okkan.

 

27 September – Okkan – Gyobingauk - 93 km

Following breakfast, we biked on to Gyobingauk. The ride was an effortless one, mostly past rice paddies and temples. We meandered through rural areas and past teeny hamlets and a multituede of roadside vendors. There wasn’t much to see in Gyobingauk and overnighting was purely due to its location midway between Okkan and Pyay.

 

28 September – Gyobingauk – Pyay – 90 km

The way to Pyay was flat and in good condition, making effortless pedalling. The area was a rural one where people fished with rudimentary nets and paid their respects at temples. In Pyay we bedded down at the upmarket Hotel Irrawaddy right on the Irrawaddy River. A considerable discount provided a double room at $25, a bargain compared to other places.

 

29 September – Pyay

There was indeed something very romantic about Myanmar. I don’t know if it’s due to the vibrant colours, the hazy sunrises and sunsets, the ladies with painted faces, or the men with conical hats cycling bicycles with sidecars. Maybe it was a combination of all these beautiful images. Waking to the chanting of monks, drifting across from the immensely impressive Shwesandaw Paya, one couldn’t help but fall in love with Myanmar. Perched atop a central hill, Pyay’s Shwesandaw Paya is slightly taller than Yangon’s Shwedagon Paya and dates from 589 BC.

 

30 September – Pyay – Aunglan - 75 km

Departing Paya was amidst lady monks (nuns) collecting food, who seemed more jovial than their male counterparts. The road was rough but flat as we made our way past beautiful scenes of rice fields with blue skies and colourful temples. Halfway through the day, the vegetation changed and became similar to the Pampas in Argentina. Like there, the area was a cattle-farming one.

Men on oxcarts called cheerful greeted, as ladies in conical hats worked the fields. The road followed the Irrawaddy River and, from time to time, ran flush next to it and, at other times, headed inland. Finally, Aunglan signalled the end of the day’s ride.

 

1 October - Aunglan – Magway – 140 km

The stretch between Aunglan and Magway became a tiring and slow day of biking along a bumpy road with many steep little hills. The oppressing heat made exhausting riding. Nevertheless, we slowly churned our way up the hills, only crawling into Magway reasonably late.

 

2 October - Magway – Chauk – 120 km

With tired legs we cycled the 120 kilometres to Chauk. The road led slightly uphill for the first 90 kilometres and then a steady downhill took us to Chauk where a brand-new establishment at $30 was available. We couldn’t be happier.

 

3 October - Chauk – Bagan – 45 km

A short and effortless ride along a rural road ran to Bagan. The way into Bagan was along many ancient temples, and one couldn’t help but snap a few pics.

 

4–5 October - Bagan

It’s said Bagan was the capital of the first Myanmar Empire, it’s situated on the bank of the Ayeyarwady River and coveres an area of 42 sq. km. The town was built around 849 AD and became a city of great importance in the mid-9th century under King Anawrahta, who unified Burma under Theravada Buddhism. Over the next 250 years, Bagan’s rulers and their wealthy subjects constructed over 10,000 religious monuments in the Bagan plains. In 1287, nearly all were destroyed by the Mongols during their wide-ranging conquests.

Today, over 2,200 temples and pagodas still survive, and I’m not exaggerating if I say there are temples everywhere. The people of Bagan live and work amongst these ruins; cattle graze, kids play in the dusty roads and people still worship at these old temples. Bagan is indeed a magical place, especially at sunrise and sunset.

Eventually, time came to move on, and a boat trip up the Irrawaddy River connected Bagan with Mandalay. The boat ride avoided a two-day bicycle ride along a rough road to Mandalay. The trip further allowed enjoying the mighty Irrawaddy River, the country’s backbone.

 

6 October - Mandalay

Making the tiny gold leaf sheets worshippers use at temples is an industry that has existed in Myanmar since ancient times. Walking the streets of Mandalay, I came upon an alley where a rhythmic pounding could be heard. On closer inspection, I found muscled gold beaters beating small packages with big hammers. I subsequently learned that refined pieces of gold are liquefied and turned into thin, flat gold sheets. Each piece was put between two layers of bamboo paper and pounded with 6-lb hammers for about 30 minutes. This resulted in a small, flat part of gold leaf mainly used as offerings at pagodas.

It felt like around every corner was an ancient monastery. These were beautiful wooden buildings dating to the 1800s. The Shwenandaw Monastery was one of the country’s most significant examples of traditional 19th-century wooden monastery buildings. Carved from teak, the monastery was located outside the Mandalay Royal Palace and, I understood, was part of the palace. I read that when the capital moved to Mandalay, the building was dismantled, transported to Mandalay, and rebuilt as part of the new all-teak Royal Palace in 1857.

No less impressive was the adjacent Kuthodaw Pagoda, situated on a 5.2-hectare site. It contains the entire Theravāda Buddhist scripture. The scripture was carved on 729 marble stelae known as the ‘World’s Biggest Book’. The complex was created between 1860 and 1868 by Myanmar’s penultimate king, King Mindon (1853–1878). The Kuthodaw Pagoda is on UNESCO’s ‘Memory of the World register.

My next stop was at the equally impressive Why Shwe In Bin Monastery. The monastery was built in traditional Burmese fashion and was constructed in 1895 by Chinese merchants. During my visit, 35 monks lived there, and I heard them chanting as I roamed the grounds.

At the puppet factory, I was astounded by the workers’ skills and expertise. All the puppets and clothing were handmade. I could carry on and on about the fantastic work done there.

My last stop was at the U Bein Bridge, said the world’s longest teak footbridge. The bridge spanned Taungthaman Lake and seemed a popular spot. That said, I didn’t see any other Caucasians exploring the area. The bridge and the fishermen would make fantastic pictures at sunset, but I was, sadly, too early.

 

7 October – Mandalay – Thabyewa, Tha Phay Wa – 142 km

From Mandalay, a short 76 kilometres route led to Kume, our planned destination, which made a leisurely start, first stopping at the U Bein Bridge as Linda missed it the previous day. The ride was effortless, but the two guesthouses (contrary to what was confirmed the previous night) didn’t allow foreigners. There was nothing to do about the situation but continue to Meiktila, 75 kilometres further.

Being well-rested, biking was easy, albeit far. Then, dark clouds started forming, and following a loud crack of thunder, it started bucketing down. A mad scramble followed in packing away our electronics, after which we proceeded with rain beating down. Eventually, the storm dissipated, and a mild tailwind made pleasurable riding.

Seventeen kilometres from Meiktila, Linda suddenly pulled off the road, and I wondered what the problem was but then realised she spotted a guesthouse. The rooms were a mere $10 and came with air-con and a hot water shower; we couldn’t be happier.

 

8 October - Thabywea – Meiktila – 17 km + Inle Lake – 173 km (by bus)

During the evening, the route was discussed, and there seemed little of importance along the main road. Instead, taking a bus to Inle Lake and spending our last few days in Myanmar at the lake sounded far more exciting.

A short cycle took us to Meiktila bus station from where minivans ran to Nyaung Shwe, the gateway town to the lake area. Judging by the condition of our minivan, it was doubtful whether it would be capable of making it over the steep pass. But, miraculously, it made it to Nyaung Shwe with only stopping twice to do quick repair jobs.

The driver dropped us outside Inle Inn, with extremely comfortable accommodation at $18. Already late by then, only enough time remained to enjoy a quick meal at the Indian restaurant.

 

9-10 October – Inle Lake, Nyaung Shwe

I was up early as I arranged a boat to take me out on the lake to see the sunrise and maybe get a glimpse of the fishermen. These iconic fishermen of Inle Lake, known as the “Leg-Rowing fishermen” of Myanmar, steered their boats with one leg. They stood on one leg, wrapping their other leg around an oar, leaving one hand free to fish.

I was unlucky with the sunrise as the sky was completely overcast. Still, it remained fun trying to photograph the fishermen. Not an easy task in low light and on a moving boat.

 

11-12 October – Inle Lake

Our hanging around the lake wasn’t purely because of its laidback atmosphere but also to experience the Phaung Daw U Pagoda Festival.

The Phaung Daw U Pagoda Festival is held annually for 18 days. It’s one of the most famous festivals in Myanmar. Phaung Daw U Pagoda was best known in the Inle Lake region and housed five small, gilded images of Buddha. These images were covered in gold leaf to such an extent that their original forms could no longer be identified.

A large boat with a Golden Hintha (Hamsa) Bird creation was constructed and formed part of the festival. On this boat, the Buddha images toured around Inle Lake from village to village, taking 18 days to do so. The leg-rowers of Inle Lake, dressed in shiny colourful costumes, towed the decorated barge.

Myanmar is a multi-tribe country with about 135 ethnic tribes. I understood that the oldest of these tribes is the Padaung long-neck tribe. Surprisingly, they kept many unique customs and rituals, including wearing many necklaces to ensure longer necks. Legend has it a tribe leader dreamt a tiger would attack the community and break their necks when his daughter gave birth. He thus made all children wear necklaces. It’s said the practice dates to the 11th century. However, the long-neck look is not achieved because the neck is stretched. Instead, the weight of the weighty rings pushes the shoulders down, creating an illusion that the neck is longer. Although women still wear these necklaces, nearly all are decorative and removable.

 

13-14 October - Inle Lake – Mywaddy (Myanmar/Thailand border) by bus

So much fun was had at Inle Lake; we had to rush off to the border to get out before our visas expired. Tickets were arranged on the night bus, and rumoured a direct bus to the border.

The coach left shortly past 16h00, but it only made 30 kilometres before coming to a halt. All watched in anticipation when the toolbox came out. An hour later, the verdict was that the bus was “kaput”, and a new coach was ordered to transport us the rest of the way. The bus ride was a long ride without a toilet. If someone needed to use the bathroom, one could ask the bus driver to stop, and all would pile out and do the necessary. It thus turned out to be long past midday before reaching the border town of Myawaddy.

Linda and I packed the bicycles and biked to the Immigration Office, where one was stamped out. Waving Myanmar goodbye we headed to the Thai immigration to get our entry stamps and then returned to the First Hotel in Mae Sot. A meal and beer were precisely what we needed.

 

 

THAILAND (18)

 

15 October - Mae Sot – Bangkok by bus

We emerged leisurely and decided to spend the day in Mae Sot and take the night bus to Bangkok. This allowed us the entire day to relax and do whatever we wanted. I bought myself a new mobile phone as my old one had seen better days.

The ride to the bus stop was in the dark, a scary experience. The bus left at 20h00 and 4h30 when we reached Bangkok bus station. Albeit still pitch dark, we saddled up and headed into the city via a busy road, making it a hair-raising experience. Reasonable people might’ve had coffee and waited until daylight, but not us! We headed out in the dark and, mercifully, made it to our guesthouse in one piece.

 

16-17 October – Bangkok

I could not sleep, even though I hadn’t slept all night. Ultimately, I gave up, sauntered around the Khao San Road area, and took the bicycle to Bok-Bok Bike for a service. Linda packed her bags as her flight to the Philippines was at midday and with that came to an end, another enjoyable ride in Southeast Asia.

Thursday 20 September 2018

SOUTHEAST ASIA - Vietnam (4.1), Camboida (8), Thailand (17), Heading back to Bangkok after Caron left

 


VIETNAM (4.1), CAMBODIA (8) THAILAND (17)
1 September – 10 September 2018
6 Days – 702 km


 

VIETNAM (4.1)

 

2 September – Saigon, Vietnam – Svay Rieng, Cambodia – 125 km

Departing Saigon was on a Sunday morning and I hoped it would be an easy escape from sprawling Saigon. However, no such thing happened, and I ducked and dived through the traffic, ignoring traffic signs like a true Vietnamese. Eventually, Saigon disappeared in my rear-view mirror, and I caught one last ferry ride across a river. Unfortunately, another rough path was on the opposite side that later spat me out at the Vietnam/Cambodia border. However, the crossing into Cambodia was uncomplicated. Surprisingly, I was charged only the $30 visa fee and no extra, “for their children”!

I pushed on as I’d approximately 900 km ahead of me and only about a week to do it. In Svay Rieng, a $5 room turned out one of the worst ever encountered, but you get what you pay for and one can’t expect much when paying $5. Phew! Time to hunt down food and beer.

 

CAMBODIA (8)

 

3 September - Svay Rieng – Phnom Penh – 131 km

Cycling wasn’t particularly effortless as a headwind hampered my efforts considerably. Rice paddies rolled past rather slowly as I stuck to the main road in the direction of Phnom Penh. That said, there are always exciting things to see, and on this day, people made and sold flattened rice. At the beginning of the rice harvest, some rice is set aside to be specially prepared and eaten during certain Khmer ceremonies. Flattened rice can be eaten year-round but is often eaten during special family gatherings.

The rice is roasted in a wok, then put in a wooden cylinder and pounded using a large pole. After the pounding, the hull is separated and discarded. Flattened rice can be eaten dry as a snack (quite lovely); most families, however, add coconut milk, sugar and banana.

Eventually, my path crossed the Mekong River and I was surprised at the vast amount of water flowing downstream.

My arrival in Phnom Penh was in peak hour traffic and in a drizzle, not the best conditions to bike into hectic Phnom Penh. Nevertheless, I made my way to Grand View Guesthouse, where I met up with my lovely friends, Matt, Dan, Chop, Phillipe and Teresa. Copious bottles of red wine were consumed and I later stumbled to my room. Phew.

I surfaced late sporting a (not surprising) headache and knew I wasn’t going anywhere that day. The rest of the crowd was equally slow to emerge but were ready for a few beers by evening.

 

5 September – Phnom Penh – Kampong Chhnang – 108 km

After breakfast, I pedalled out of Phnom Penh, trying my best to stay off the busy main road. In the process, I came upon the most unusual temples, Wat Sowann Thamareach was one of them. I pedalled past carts laden with pottery, sold door to door. Finally, I popped into the Vipassana Meditation Centre, where one can enrol in meditation courses. I think one can also overnight there, but I pushed on. I was slightly behind schedule and pointed my bicycle in Kampong Chhnang’s direction along the busy and narrow main road. Barely 12 km from my destination, dark clouds gathered and I wondered if it would be possible to escape the storm. I picked up an unexpected tailwind and powered by the wind, flew towards Chhnang. Amidst roaring thunder and streaks of lightning, I rolled into Kampong Chhnang just as raindrops started falling and made it to a guesthouse by the skin of my teeth.

 

6 September – Kampong Chhnang – Pursat 98 km

Feeling lethargic, the day dragged on endlessly. I amused myself checking out the stalls selling bugs (a typical snack in Cambodia) as well as, to my horror, skinned Leopard cats. These beautiful wild cats are regrettably hunted as food and, I’m sure, will soon be on the endangered list. I was more than happy to cycle into Pursat, sporting a good enough room to overnight. Stalls at the market sold heaps of fried crickets and I thought I’d post the recipe if anyone is inclined to give it a go. Here we go:

Preparation

Before cooking crickets, you should place the insects in a refrigerator until immobilised. The cold air slows a cricket’s metabolism and prevents your food from hopping away.

Fried

Pan-frying crickets is quick and easy. Heat olive oil in a pan. Place the insects in the hot oil and fry until brown and crispy. Drain the crickets, season to taste (a pinch of pepper and a dash of soy sauce usually does the trick) and enjoy. You can eat it as a snack or serve it on a bed of rice or noodles.

 

7 September – Pursat – Battambang – 110 km

What a dreadful day of cycling. Not only was I into a headwind, but the route was in a horrible condition. It became best to ride on the no-man’s-land next to the road as it had been patched once too many times, making a rough and bumpy ride. The lack of a shoulder and traffic added to the horrendous conditions. If not in such a hurry, I indeed would’ve taken a rural track. Once in Battambang, I opted for Hotel Royal, which offered clean budget rooms.

 

THAILAND (17)

 

8-11 September – Battambang, Cambodia – Aranyaprathet, Thailand - 130 km

I realised I was out of time and caught a train to Bangkok as I still needed to take the bike for a service and fit a new tire. Catching a train with a bicycle was surprisingly easy. Once at Bangkok station, I biked the short distance to my usual guesthouse, leaving three full days to do laundry and take the bicycle to the bike shop. However, my rushed departure from Aranyaprathet was mainly due to me needing a Myanmar visa, a three-day process as Linda and I planned on cycling this fascinating country.

 

12 September – Bangkok

Linda landed in Bangkok, jet-lagged following a 27-hour long haul flight from Fort Lauderdale and a considerable amount of chatting and beer later; we turned in. 

Saturday 1 September 2018

SOUTHEAST ASIA - CARON - Thailand (16.2) - Cambodia (7) - Vietnam (4) - 2018 - Caron


BANGKOK TO SAIGON
Thailand (16.2)- Cambodia (7) – Vietnam (4)
1 816 km – 29 days

2 August - 30 August 2018


MAP



 

PHOTOS - THAILAND (16.2)
PHOTOS - CAMBODIA (7)
PHOTOS - VIETNAM (4)



Thailand (16.2)

379 Km – 7 Days

 

 

2 August 2018 – Jomtien

Caron arrived in Thailand following an exceptionally long flight from South Africa via Singapore. We practically straightaway took a walk to the beach. A pleasant stroll along the ocean led to the night market where we drank the obligatory smoothie. Later, a few Chang beers were enjoyed before my jetlagged friend hit the sack.

 

3 August – Jomtien

Early morning, a short amble led to the beach to watch fishermen bring in their catch. Women not only had the job of selling what was brought ashore but prepared it right there, in case you liked your crab or fish already cooked. Caron was shocked at what was on offer, and I agreed seahorses shouldn’t be on the menu. After a swim in the ocean and noodle soup on the beach, Caron’s bicycle was reassembled, a job that went surprisingly smoothly. Then off to the bike shop to buy Caron a new pump and fit a headset extension - a move that would hopefully provide a more comfortable ride in the long run.

Lunch consisted of a typical red curry and spicy minced fish cooked in a banana leaf. Caron opted to have a homemade fruit salad consisting of rambutan, mango, mangosteen, passion fruit and banana. “Arroy mak mak,” as they say in Thailand.

By evening, we sought out the money changers before returning to the night market to do shopping and drink more smoothies.

 

4 August - Jomtien – 60 km

There wasn’t a great deal of rest as a decision was made to go the “no itinerary” route and thus wander off at random in the direction of Vietnam. As overnighting at temples was a real possibility, the Decathlon store was our first stop to purchase Caron a sleeping mat. At times, monks provided sleeping mats, but, in general, they avoid women like the plague and having one’s own mat was best to secure a decent sleep.

Our test ride through the countryside took us past substantial cassava plantations whilst sharing the path with broom and feather duster salesmen until reaching tiny of Ban Chak Ngaew. Ban Chak Ngaew is a community of Thai Chinese who still maintain their traditional lifestyle. A stand sold pineapples already cut accompanied by a sugar and chilli mix, unusual but surprisingly delicious on a hot day. The main street was lined with traditional Chinese wooden shophouses complete with ground floor shops and living quarters above. The nearby Hui Wei Sheng Niang temple is dedicated to a Hainan goddess worshipped by Hainanese worldwide.

Legend has it a fisherman named Pan, fishing out at sea, caught a block of wood which he threw back into the ocean. The next day he, nevertheless, caught it again. This repeatedly happened a few days, and Pan decided to take the block home. He felt the block had magical power and thus prayed to it, asking to be blessed with a great catch. He promised to build a temple to enshrine the wood if his prayers were granted. Pan’s prayer was granted, and he returned from his fishing trip, sporting a huge catch. Sadly, Pan didn’t have enough money to build a temple and forgot all about the promise made. The next day, his pigs became ill, and his neighbours saw a woman sitting on the branch of a longan tree near his house. This made him remember his promise, and on informing his neighbours of the incident, the community came together and raised funds to construct a temple and prayed for guidance as to where to build the new temple. Suddenly, a child came by and showed them where the temple should be constructed, and the first Hui Wei Sheng temple was built.

The temple was lovely, and the family taking care of it demonstrated how to ask for protection during our cycling trip. We lit a few incense sticks and banged the gong three times to alert the goddess of our wish. What a pleasant experience.

Our route took us towards the enormous Wat Yansangwararam temple complex. The complex is set in a vast park, housing several buildings of vastly different architectural styles, well-kept gardens, and a sizeable lake, making a peaceful setting. A steep staircase, flanked by a Naga balustrade, led to Wat Phra Phutthabat, the “temple of the Buddha’s footprint” which housed a footprint of Buddha, uncovered in Thailand in the 17th century. The place revealed a legend, but I’ll let it go this time as the story is becoming long-winded.

Our last stop was up a small hill, to the Khao Chi Chan (Buddha Mountain), a 109-metre tall carving of a seated Buddha on the side of a mountain. It made an impressive sight. A tailwind made easy returning to Jomtien to swim in the Gulf of Thailand, before a supper of green curry and Chang beer.

 

5 August - Jomtien - Nong Yai temple – 79 km

Woo-hoo, time to start cycling and I, was more than happy to get going and off to an unknown destination. Clearing the Pattaya City limits took the best part of the day. Luckily, our route soon spat us out on a considerably smaller path and amongst pineapple, coconut and rubber tree plantations. A stall sold cotton candy (roti saimai). Roti saimai (pronounced say may) is a Thai-style candy floss or cotton candy wrapped in a sweet roti. The thin silk strands are spun sugar and the strands usually come in a rainbow of colours. The crepe is very thin, and I understand the green is from pandan leaves. They were delicious and one couldn’t help but buy a whole bag full.

Still chewing on cotton candy, we stopped at a pineapple depo to watch workers load massive heaps of pineapples and were promptly given two large pineapples. Looking at each other in disbelief, we had no idea where to pack this generous gift. Finally, at our lunchtime noodle soup stop, one pineapple was gifted to the stall owner.

The remainder of the day was a pure pleasure, pedalling along an undulated section past rubber tree plantations where the cups had already filled with latex.

Tiny Ban Nong Yai was a typical small Thai village featuring wooden Chinese shophouses, mobile food carts, restaurants, and temples. On seeking permission from monks to sleep at the temple, they pointed us to a tiled undercover area. Good thing Caron bought a sleeping mat as a tiled floor can be hard. Supper consisted of minced pork topped by an egg, and I’d a distinct feeling the two farangs were the topic of conversation.

 

6 August - Nong Yai Temple – Sronlai Homestay – 62 km

The temple gong didn’t solely wake the monks and us, but the temple dogs, geese, chickens and birds. Taking the commotion, it was clearly time to wake up. Nevertheless, packing up remained a peaceful process listening to monks chanting their morning prayers. No doubt the monks were gifted a delicious pineapple.

Upon departing, the heavens opened. There was nothing to do but to continue until locating a stall to hide until the worse blew over. The stall owner was super welcoming and gave us a bunch of litchis, and on wanting to pay, she wanted nothing of it. The rain soon cleared, allowing us to continue. Our lack of breakfast made us feel nibblish. At the Bo Thong market, noodle soup was exactly what was needed and eaten to great enjoyment of the curious villagers.

The day turned out quite eventful as, on leaving Bo Thong, a massive bulge appeared along the wall of my tyre and a huge bang indicated the end of both tyre and tube. It happened in front of a simple eatery, and the immensely helpful stall owner gave me a lift on her motorbike to a motorbike/bicycle store. There I could purchase a new tyre and tube, albeit an extremely knobbly one. However, beggars can’t be choosers, and soon the new tyre was humming on the tarmac.

Stalls sold interesting snacks, as well as fruit. I couldn’t believe we bought a watermelon after our desperate attempt to get rid of the pineapples. The watermelon was tied on the back of Caron’s bike as the plan was on eating it later. A lovely ride led through dense forests and cashew plantations. On stopping to inspect this unusual fruit with its nut growing outside, the humble plantation owners came out to meet us. They were making charcoal and made time to show us the process. What modest and lovely people.

We encountered a few hills en route, typically featuring a shrine at the high point. These shrines were usually adorned with red Fanta soda bottles and a few flower garlands. Following taking a few pics in a rubber tree plantation, the next stop was at a dam. The dam had a lovely setting where one could camp and rent canoes, making a delightful end to an already enjoyable day.

 

7 August - Sronlai Homestay – Khao Chakan – 93 km

“We have to eat this watermelon,” Caron said, as she had no intention of carrying it an extra day. Breakfast was no doubt watermelon after which we followed a track via the dam wall, making a stunning morning ride. Dense forests lined both sides of the road, and butterflies and monkeys darted across our path while making our way through an elephant reserve. Regrettably, no elephants were spotted, merely dung, a sure sign they were in the vicinity.

The scenery was superb as we proceeded past bright-green rice paddies and water buffalo waddling in ponds left by recent rain. Fifty kilometres further, we stopped for our usual noodle soup lunch. Later, it started raining but as it was only a drizzle rain gear was donned before continuing to our planned overnight stop.

Despite the rain the ride turned out quite pleasant. On reaching Khao Chakan Forest Park, enough time remained to walk up to a cave via a near vertical staircase. Hundreds of monkeys played on the stairs and rocks, showing their agility. The stairs led to a massive hole in the mountainside, revealing stunning vistas of the surrounding landscape. The rain made the descent a tricky affair, wishing we were as agile as monkeys the walk down was a slow and careful one. Our accommodation was busses converted into guest rooms—quite a novelty. As always, when food shopping in the wake of a day of biking, far too much was purchased. Still, as the evening wore on, we miraculously managed to devour our entire supply of groceries.

 

8 August - Khao Chakan – Aranyaprathet – 85 km

Leaving our colourful bus accommodation, the way took us in the direction of Aranyaprathet where the plan was on crossing the border into Cambodia. Our chosen route ran through a highly rural area past old men herding water buffalo and village dogs attempting to give chase. Stopped at a small ice cream stall, about the entire community came out to greet us and little kids were unceremoniously dumped on Caron’s lap for a photoshoot.

A country lane led to Prasat Mueang Phai believed to be an ancient city dating from the Dvaravati era (6 - 11th century). According to what I read, Mueang Phai was a walled city that measured 1000 metres by 1300 metres and was surrounded by a 40-metre wide moat. Great was our surprise, therefore, to find simply a tiny heap of bricks and earth. However, this unsatisfactory discovery didn’t deter us. A short detour took us to Prasat Khao Noi believed built in the 12th century. This one was easier to find, and 254 steps later, we located the remains of three towers. Sadly only the middle one remained intact. In addition, an information board stated a lintel found on site dated to 637 AD but was quite likely re-used.

At the border town of Aranyaprathet, our laundry was handed in before rushing to the food vendors. The central pond and fountain acted as a night market and was surrounded by food vendors where one could pick from numerous dishes.

Dessert was “sankaya” or Thai pumpkin custard, a Thai-style pumpkin pie filled with lightly sweetened coconut milk and egg custard steamed inside a pumpkin. Quite delicious.

Ingredients

1 Kabocha squash (Japanese pumpkin)

10 Cups of water (for steaming)

4-5 Eggs

3/4 Cups coconut milk

1/3 Cup of coconut palm sugar

Pinch of salt

Pinch of cinnamon

1 tsp. vanilla extract

 

Preparation

Cut out the pumpkin like you would during Halloween. Cut out the top, remove all seeds and stringy insides.

In a mixing bowl, crack the eggs, add coconut milk, salt, cinnamon, vanilla and palm sugar. Stir well until the palm sugar is blended into the mixture.

Pour mixture into pumpkin.

Bring water to a boil in a steamer. Then place the pumpkin and the pumpkin lid inside the steamer basket. Don’t cover the pumpkin with the lid. Set the pumpkin lid in the steaming basket off to the side, so it cooks, too.

 

 

Cambodia (7)

954 Km – 16 Days

 

9 August - Aranyaprathet, Thailand – Roadside Guesthouse, Cambodia – 83 km

We cycled to the border where the border market and trade were already in full swing. The area was in complete chaos with traders in a mad rush to get to the market. We tried our level best to make our way through the hectic traffic. Eventually making it to the immigration office. After a quick stamp in the passport, we departed well-organised Thailand and entered a more chaotic Cambodia.

The entire way was congested with human-drawn carts, tricycles, three-wheeled motorcycles pulling heavily laden wagons, trucks, buses, and tuk-tuks all loaded to the hilt. It took weaving our way through dusty, bumper-to-bumper traffic, dodging barefoot monks and muddy puddles to the Cambodian emigration. A Cambodian visa came at $30 as per the embassy website. Hundred Thai Baht was nonetheless added to the price. (The Thai baht, I assumed, was what is known as “spreading the profit”)

From the immigration office, a good but dusty and congested ride took us east in the direction of Siem Reap. Numerous eateries lined the way and one such stall sold rice cooked in bamboo. Sticky rice is mixed with sugar, sweet red beans and coconut milk and then stuffed into cylinders of hollow bamboo. These tubes are then slow-roasted over coals, making a delicious snack.

The route made its way past bright green rice fields, wooden houses on stilts and friendly kids. Stopping to enjoy coconut juice was a fascinating affair involving meeting super-welcoming Cambodians. Wrinkly old ladies gave big toothless grins, and small kids shyly looked from behind their mother’s aprons at the two “farangs” (foreigners) in their midst. The day consisted of ambling along, marvelling at our new country, and passing men herding cattle and basic wooden houses where families were swinging in hammocks under stilted homes.

A sign pointed to a guesthouse, and to our surprise, we discovered a decent place offering a ground floor abode at $7. On taking a walk searching for a restaurant, we got plenty of stares and were observed with great interest. Even though no English was spoken, we managed to order food.

 

10-11 August - Roadside Guesthouse – Siem Reap – 85 km

Before heading to Siem Reap we first had coffee enjoying the fresh, morning air. The path was shared with broom and feather duster salesmen. Ornate temples jutted out forests and gave colour to paddy fields stretching as far as the eye could see. Fruit stands sold custard apples, and we bagged a few for the road. We biked on passing what we called “nursery carts” as these carts were stacked with plants and flowers, apparently heading to a market.

Our midday noodle soup stop caused a fair amount of interest from bystanders and people brought children to be photographed. Though, I’d a feeling the kids weren’t all comfortable with their new role as models.

Overcast weather and a tailwind made effortless pedalling, past water buffalo enjoying muddy puddles left by the previous night’s rain, and past ramshackle shops selling cigarettes and petrol by the litre. A market sold deep-fried snakes, frogs, and crickets. Caron couldn’t face trying these delicacies, and I merely tried the snake served with salt and lemon but thought it dry and tasteless.

Siem Reap was a bustling town swarming with tourists. It thus came as a shock to see the hordes of foreigners, fancy hotels, and upmarket eateries following a week in the countryside.

The next day was spent exploring world-renowned Angkor Wat, a fascinating experience.

 

12 August - Siem Reap – Sroyorng Koh Ke Guesthouse – 116 km

Cycling out of Siem Reap, I was surprised to witness child labour. Small kids on bicycles collected empty bottles to recycle. Being Sunday, I hoped they attended school during the week. Once out of touristy Seam Reap, the road deteriorated, making a bumpy ride through potholes filled from the previous night’s rain.

Rather than taking the highway, we opted for a significantly smaller route, hoping it would lead to the Mekong River. The ride turned out to be exciting along a dirt track and through the utmost of rural areas. Villagers still farmed in primitive ways, lived in nipa huts, obtained water from wells and chewed paan. Ox-drawn carts carted wares, rice was milled in backyards, and rice paper (used in Vietnamese rice paper rolls) were made by the entire family. Corn boiled in large pots at the roadside, and the aroma made it virtually impossible to cycle past. Unfortunately, our decision to buy what was on offer sent nearly the entire community in disarray. A few kids ran home, others giggled endlessly, but one brave soul remained and shyly served the two foreigners. The rain caught us no less than three times, each shower leaving us sopping wet with steam rising from our soaked bodies.

The area was nevertheless delightfully rural, kids played in rivers and jumped off bridges and did what kids do. Others were cutting rice in paddies, and village dogs made it clear this was their territory. A pleasant day by anyone’s standards made even more so by finding a guesthouse in a tiny nameless settlement.

 

13 August - Sroyorng Koh Ke Guesthouse – Chhaeb – 110 km

Child monks collected food as we biked out of the village. Our path twisted and turned through rural settlements where cattle and buffalo had the right of way. Like the previous days, our route was shared with two-wheel tractors pulling wooden trollies laden with produce or entire families. Friendly kids called “hello”, and pyjama-clad women waved us goodbye.

Motorbike salesmen were carting piglets in bamboo cages and others woven fish traps. But, highly fascinating was a mobile separating rice milling machine (not sure what it’s called). It went from house to house and separated the villager’s rice from the husk.

Fearful kids hid behind their mothers’ aprons and small dogs ran for their lives, only stopping once they reached the safety of their homes. This was a clear indication few foreigners ever ventured that way. The way ran amongst the ever-present luminous green rice paddies and past small kids, three up, on small bicycles. Finally, towards the end of the day, Chhaeb rolled into view.

Little English was spoken in those rural areas. Still, getting a bite to eat was easy. All one needed to do was repeatedly point your second and middle finger to your mouth (indicating chopsticks). What was served was often a surprise. This time, it consisted of a clear broth containing chicken feet, rice, and a meat dish that primarily included bones. What bones they were, remains a mystery. Still feeling slightly hungry, we stopped at a stall to pick up a noodle dish. Waiting, Caron ordered a boiled egg and to her horror, the egg turned out “Balut” - a half-developed duck embryo. Needless to say, the dogs enjoyed it.

 

14 August - Chhaeb – Stung Treng – 86 km

Our first stop was at a baguette stand. Cambodia’s traditional snack, Nompang (baguette), is filled with slices of pork, meatloaf, pickled carrots, papaya, and cucumber, topped with coriander and a pate spread. It’s delicious.

Then, on to our final stretch to the Mekong. It must be mentioned this was an extremely rural area where foreigners seldom ventured. Even though friendly, children were, for the most part, highly apprehensive and kept their distance. Vendors sold meagre supplies of petrol by the litre, and a few fruit and vegetables from their gardens. Also sold were birds and other wildlife in cages including a baby monkey who befriended a dog (as if they knew they were in the same boat as both were for sale).

Still, even the tiniest hamlet had a pharmacy and a small clinic, consisting of no more than a few bamboo woven beds. The beds weren’t unusual as, in general, people in southeast Asia sleep on woven rugs. Soon afterwards, it started raining. A ramshackle stall made a good cover and place for a tasty barbequed sausage and baguette snack. I considered it best not to enquire regarding the ingredients. Whilst waiting until the weather cleared, we watched ladies pounding rice to make tepung, a kind of rice flour. As in Africa, two women rhythmically pounded rice into fine rice flour in a large wooden trough using long poles, hypnotic and relaxing watching.

Crossing innumerable broad rivers and watching skilful fishermen cast their nets, the path crossed the Mekong River via the modern Stung Treng Bridge. The town sported several guesthouses and finding accommodation was straightforward. Although right in the market area, we were unsuccessful in finding food and eventually settled for a fried noodle dish from a Chinese restaurant.

 

15 August – Stung Treng – Krati – 142 km

Hou boude, hou,” Caron said when I told her the ride to Krati would be 140 kilometres, the next settlement along the Mekong. Unfortunately, the area didn’t offer a great deal in line of accommodation or even temples, and one had little option but to continue. A bumpy and potholed route led out of Stung Treng. Mercifully, about 40 kilometres later, a brand-spanking-new road, made riding far more comfortable. The weather was overcast, but a slight headwind slowed our pace.

Even though a challenging day, it remained a privilege and a pleasure to cycle past small settlements where cattle, bare-bum kids and buffalo had the run of the village. A lunch of fried rice from a roadside stall provided much-needed energy.

Basic wooden houses on stilts, welcoming Cambodians, and laundry flapping on fences became familiar scenes. For the best part of the day we’d our heads down as we pedalled across enormous rivers, past rice fields and forested areas until reaching Krati in a slight drizzle and fading light. Exhausted, and Caron with a sore behind, the Heng Heng Hotel, right on the Mekong River, was a welcome sight. However, no sooner settled in, a fierce storm rolled in, rattling windows and doors, and we couldn’t believe our luck. Once the storm had subsided, hunger pains drove us to a nearby restaurant where we could choose from an extensive range.

 

16 August – Krati

We woke to the sounds of the street and a view of the Mekong River. As we’d plans of tracking down the rare freshwater river dolphins, there was no rush to go anywhere. A walk through the market was as interesting and informative as all markets, and it gave a glimpse into the lives of ordinary Cambodians. Who said pyjamas was purely for bed? In Cambodia, this comfortable garment has evolved into all-purpose wear. Pyjamas were worn by Khmer women at all times of day - to markets, on the streets and even to restaurants. We, therefore, followed suit and Caron bought herself decent Cambodian pyjamas she planned on wearing riding.

A bumpy tuk-tuk ride dropped us where boatmen took people across a strong-flowing Mekong River to where we hoped to catch a glimpse of the river dolphins. Irrawaddy dolphins are distinctive in that, unlike nearly all species of dolphins with long noses and pointed features, the Irrawaddy species has a blunt nose and straight mouth, rounded tail and fins. In addition, they don’t jump like other dolphins, and one had to look closely to see them. It’s said that these dolphins are genetically related to the killer whale (orca). How interesting! Although called the Irrawaddy River dolphin, I understood that they are not actual river dolphins. Instead, they are oceanic dolphins living in brackish water near coasts, river mouths, and estuaries. It has established subpopulations in freshwater rivers, including the Ganges and the Mekong. These dolphins are highly vulnerable as the worldwide population appears around 7,000. Another interesting fact is that they are almost blind. They have tiny eyes and even lack lenses and can do little more than distinguish between light and dark. What a fascinating world we live in! Finally, with threatening weather, our boatman returned to the safety of the shore.

 

17 August - Krati – Police station – 83 km

From Krati, a narrow, rural track ran along the Mekong, a beautiful ride through small settlements on the river banks. Flooding is a way of life along the lower Mekong. In August/November, monsoon rains fill the river, spilling over into adjacent farmlands. Our route was chock-a-block with livestock, laundry and children; all brought to the elevated road for safety. If your house wasn’t on high stilts, things were sure to become wet. Schools, temples, mosques and even clinics were all under water. Yet, no one seemed stressed and kids enjoyed the abundance of water.

Pyjama-clad women sat in doorways nursing babies or playing with toddlers. At the same time, men on haunches fixed fishing nets and bamboo chicken cages. Eateries moved onto the slightly elevated road which made convenient pickings. The path meandered through the chaos until reaching where the map indicated a guesthouse. Regrettably, the place didn’t exist and at the temple, monks pointed us to another temple. The temple was a busy one occupied by child monks and village kids. Understandably, they were inquisitive, but this well-meaning attention was overbearing to us. In the process, a kind Cambodian offered accommodation in his house but, again, we found sharing sleeping quarters with an entire family too close for comfort and continued to where we came upon a police station. Helpful staff phoned the “director” who gave the necessary permission. After presenting our passports and lining up for a photo (which made us feel and look like two criminals), the staff pointed to a vacant office. Under scrutiny, we swept the office and rolled out our sleeping mats. Our every move was watched until we eventually indicated our need for privacy and our hosts returned to their office. Caron wasn’t too happy sharing our spot with frogs, crickets, grasshoppers and geckos and once they were gently helped outside, we settled in.

 

18 August - Police station – Kampong Cham – 48 km

Caron claimed she slept keeping one eye open, watching for our four-legged “roommates”. Following a photoshoot, we cycled south in the direction of Kampong Cham. Still early, we found villagers going about their daily tasks. Kids were off to school, and ladies in pyjamas sold fried dough from the back of bicycles, which made a great snack cycling.

Like the previous day, low-lying areas were flooded, sometimes only rooves of barns or houses could be seen. Kids loved it and had a ball playing with anything that would float. The slightest elevated areas were used to dry produce, cook or keep chickens and cattle out of harm’s way. As grazing areas were flooded, feed was collected elsewhere, and ladies on bikes carted animal feed. At the same time, men toiled the land using oxen. The river trail was one of my favourite rides, and thoroughly enjoyable as we made our way to sleepy Kampong Cham. The evening was spent strolling along the riverfront in the company of the people from Kampong Cham, as this was where they hung out at sunset.

 

19 August – Kampong Cham –Phnom Penh – 110 km

From Kampong Cham, a small track took us along the river and went past people living on barges; several even had small gardens. Ladies were dyeing silk (used in weaving) or were drying grasses in the sun. These colourfully dyed grasses made pretty pictures as well as beautiful mats. Salesmen stacked high sold wares from door to door and bicycles piled equally high with animal feed were on their way home. Small kids, no more than four or five years old, gave friends a ride on their tiny bikes. Their balance on a bicycle is extraordinary.

Due to flooding, our route ended abruptly, forcing us to find an alternative path. Unfortunately, a typical monsoon storm came in. We pulled into the nearest sheltered area, only to find it a private house. In typical Cambodian style, the family welcomed us and offered chairs to wait out the weather.

Once the worse was over, we set out anew, soon reaching the highway leading into Phnom Penh. Being Sunday afternoon, we’d an (almost) leisurely ride into the city. Once at Grand View Guesthouse, I was delighted to meet my adorable friends Chop, Matthew, Phillipe, Nic and a few others.

 

20-21 August - Phnom Penh

Priority was to obtain a Vietnamese visa and a tuk-tuk ride took us to the Vietnamese embassy merely to find it closed. There was zero one could do and we returned to our abode. Caron visited the killing fields and the old S21 detention centre. I chatted to my friends and caught up on outstanding matters. We handed over our passports to a visa agency as we had limited time available. At a small fee, they arranged a Vietnamese visa in 24 hours. During our stroll along the riverfront, we were cajoled into a sunset cruise and at $5 pp, we were easily swayed. The evening turned out lovely as the boat slowly sailed upriver at sunset and we, glass of wine in hand, sat back and enjoyed it all.

The next morning, we searched for dumplings uncovered outside the central market. Afterwards, we felt well-fed and strong enough to brave the market. We weaved through a labyrinth of stalls in the hunt of nuts and other delicacies to concoct a snack to eat during the day. Tickets were bought to that evening’s traditional dance show which made a lovely evening out.

 

22 August — Phnom Penh — Angkor Borei (Borey) — 91 km

Getting out of Phnom Penh was easier than anticipated. The initial plan was to head to Neak Loeung, but 20 kilometres outside the city, a change of plan made us head to Angkor Borei. A stunning ride proceeded through a seldom visited and rural part of Cambodia. The way varied from exceptionally rough and potholed to smoothly paved. Just as one became used to the comfort of a paved road, it abruptly ended and turned into a rough dirt track past duck farms and people on motorbikes laden with bananas. These motorbikes were fitted with frames allowing transporting a maximum load. At a water stop, the owners promptly invited us in and even offered accommodation. Too early to call it a day we continued to where a ferry took people across the Tonle Bassac and continued on a rough track, past farmers drying rice.

Certain crops were ready to be harvested, others were planted more recently. Lunch was at the small community of Prey Lovea, and then on to Angkor Borei an area continuously inhabited for at least 2500 years. Artefacts unearthed in the area dates from the Neolithic period between the 4th - 5th century AD and the Angkorian period (9th - 15th century AD). Nevertheless, there was no sign of its past glory. In tiny Angkor Borei finding a guesthouse was easier than food, eventually, we settled for ordinary fried noodles, but would’ve been happy with almost anything dished up.

 

23 August - Angkor Borei - Kampot

From Angkor Borei, we understood a boat ferried people to Takeo, saving biking a long distance around the lake. Since no one spoke English, the procedures or time weren’t entirely clear. The lady at our digs spoke a little English, and reported a boat departed at 7h00. Adjacent to the temple, we located a slipway and the official Angkor Borei/Takeo ferry. Once the bikes and panniers were loaded, more passengers started arriving. We claimed the front seat and waited until the boat filled up.

No sooner were the boat underway when the engine cut out, leaving the boat adrift. Thankfully, they simply wanted to drop a passenger. The skipper sped across the lake at high speed, drenching the two unsuspecting “farangs”, and we then understood why others filled the boat from the back. Barely an hour later, we arrived in Takeo, soaking wet.

A slow leak made me stop at a bicycle shop to buy a new inner tube as I’d neglected to fix the punctured ones. The shop had none in stock, and I started fixing the old tubes, a job the owner took out of my hands as he most likely thought I’d no idea what I was doing. I didn’t resist, and he fixed both tubes. He wanted no payment and further supplied us with a stack of patches. Before cycling out of Takeo, breakfast was pork pau and iced milk tea, usually delicious. Still, we were served a glass of condensed milk over ice. Even though strange, we drank it anyhow. The owner subsequently showed us we were to add the tea (already on the table) to the milk! He most likely thought, “Stupid foreigners, which we were”. Being already late, we made our way to the main road which took us in the direction of Kampot.

The path followed was a rough one and once on the main road the going was considerably easier. Battling a headwind and becoming drenched on three occasions made slow progress. The rain was a blessing to the farmers, and rice paddies were filled to the brim. It’s never a pleasure riding into a headwind, and we had 70 kilometres of that. Little did we know the worse was still to come.

Approximately 18 kilometres from Kampot, the road deteriorated to such an extent it became easier to cycle next to it. Traffic snaked around potholes as best they could, a futile attempt as ongoing roadwork made it one giant pothole and, therefore, a dusty and slow affair.

Thrilled to arrive in Kampot, we headed across the river to Riverside Bungalows, where guests laughed at our dirty, dusty faces. On removing our shades, we resembled two Silverleaf monkeys. Following a shower, it was time for a well-deserved beer and a massive plate of food.

 

24 August – Kampot

Kampot River Bungalows was an ideal place to enjoy a day of leisure. Situated in a jungle-like setting, it featured nipa huts on stilts overlooking the river. It made a peaceful and tranquil location. Cabins were extremely basic and airy, but mercifully came with mosquito nets.

Inner tubes made perfect toys with which to float on the river. The restaurant deck extending over the water was an excellent place to while away the time. Later, a short cycle led into Kampot, and once stocked up on snacks, we returned to our little haven. Supper was on the deck overlooking the river. Life was indeed good behind the potted plants.

 

Vietnam (4)

483 Km – 6 Days

 

25 August - Kampot, Cambodia – Ha Tien, Vietnam – 75 km

From Kampot, and on a bumpy, dusty route, the way to Vietnam weaved through rice paddies, palm trees and basic houses under corrugated iron roofs, to the small seaside village of Kep. From Kep, we made our way along a rural path to the border through an area where the air smelled of cow dung, and typical homes kept cattle in front yards. Nevertheless, our last day of riding in Cambodia was a relaxing one watching ladies cutting rice and kids collecting snails in rice fields.

The Hungry Ghost Festival was being celebrated and shrines were stacked with tins of beer and cigarettes. At the full moon of the seventh lunar month of the Chinese calendar, it’s believed the gates of hell open, and spirits of hungry ghosts are allowed to roam Earth. Naturally, these ghosts need food and people help by offering food, paper money, candles, and flowers. We watched villagers burning paper offerings in an attempt to appease the ghosts.

On arrival at the Cambodian/Vietnam border, crossing into Vietnam was a smooth affair. Our first stop was at a cave temple, reached following climbing a few stairs. The cave was surprisingly airy inside and offered grand vistas of the surrounding landscape.

Our first town in Vietnam was one with a fascinating history. Way back, Ha Tien was a Cambodian province. Still, under the attack of the Thai’s in 1708, the then-governor, Mac Cuu, approached Vietnam for assistance. Assistance was granted after which Mac Cuu governed the area as a fiefdom. Sadly, this wasn’t the end of their struggle. Since then, they’ve been invaded by Thais on several occasions and came under attack during the American war and during the reign of the Khmer Rouge, who massacred thousands of civilians living in Ha Tien at the time. Today, though, Ha Tien is a peaceful town sporting a lovely river setting, a lively day market, and an interesting night one.

Trying to change money was easier said than done, as no one spoke English and banks were closed. However, one could typically get a better rate at the gold shops. With a whopping 2,000,000 Vietnamese Dong (approx. $85) in our pockets, we felt rich and booked into an establishment right on the river.

 

26 August — Ha Tien — Chau Doc — 103 km

It was a pleasure to wake to the sounds of the street and the general mayhem of the market. I sipped my first cup of coffee listening to ferries blowing their horns before departing to the islands - a pleasant way to greet the day. Before getting underway breakfast was at the market. It consisted of a typical Vietnamese Pho (noodle soup), the first of many.

Our path followed a canal close to the Cambodian/Vietnam border and a way congested with motorcycles and minivans running to and from Cambodia. It, nevertheless, remained a pleasant ride, and rains transformed the delta into what looked like an ocean. At times, the canal completely disappeared, but amazingly boats still managed to find their way. River transportation was alive and well in Vietnam, and so was the farming of birds’ nests. These edible birds’ nests are created by swiftlets using their saliva to build them. The nests are extremely popular in Chinese culture not unlike caviar in the west. Its popularity is due to its rarity and supposedly high nutritional value and flavour. I subsequently read, these nests are among the costliest animal products consumed by humans, with nests selling at prices up to US$3000 per pound, depending on grading. With those numbers in mind, it’s understandable why farmers build massive structures specifically for these birds to nest.

Roadside markets sold woven baskets and mats, and peasants collected plastic bottles and tins to recycle. In Vietnam, eateries came with tables and chairs and a considerable number of hammocks, as it is unthinkable to sit when one could lay, which made complete sense. We followed suit, kicked back in a hammock, and replenished our thirst with coconut juice.

With the recent flooding farmers had nowhere to dry their rice crops. They used the tarmac, forcing vehicles over it to assist in the threshing process.

The Ba Chuc memorial was a grim reminder of the horrors perpetrated by the Khmer Rouge. In April 1978, the Khmer Rouge killed 3157 villagers in Ba Chuc; only two survived. A depressing visit. Outside, a lady sold what I would call Vietnamese pizza (Banh Trang Nuong). It consisted of rice paper grilled on coals and topped with chilli paste, quail eggs, spring onions, and minced pork. Delicious.

The trail petered out altogether forcing us to return to our original route. Caron was a star and never complained once about the detours or terrible conditions. Once in Chau Doc, the comfortable Thuan Loi Hotel right on the river was a perfect choice.

 

27 August - Chau Doc – Cao Lanh- 75 km

Our balcony overlooked the Bassac River, a perfect vantage point to watch all happenings. Not simply did large boats move up and down the river, but people rowed kids to school or themselves to work or markets. All this happened whilst the river was in full flood, and one could only be amazed at the skilful way they did it. Our route left via a small path and we made our way along one of the many canals. In the process, we passed ladies under straw hats pushing carts laden with fruit and vegetables from door to door.

The delta is a watery world. Here, the Mekong River drains into the South China Sea, ending its 4,350 km journey from Tibet through Myanmar, Laos, and Cambodia. No less than four times ferries were required to get across the many waterways and canals, all making an unforgettable day. Roads were generally tiny and villages small and rural, and the larger ones were congested with motorbikes and scooters.

Having a bite to eat at a restaurant, I was surprised to see a man and his chicken having lunch. I’m not kidding you. There he was, with his chicken sitting next to him on a chair. On his departure, he tucked the chicken under his shirt, got on his motorbike, and sped off. A river trail ran along the canals from our lunch spot, making a good day on the bike.

 

28 August - Cao Lanh – Vinh Long – 70 km

“I think we’ve doubled the tourist count of Cao Lanh,” Caron said as we sat down to an excellent bowl of Pho. Pho is a Vietnamese soup consisting of broth, rice noodles and meat and is considered Vietnams national dish. Ambling along, we were perplexed by the drying of water hyacinth. As far as I was aware, barely any use existed for this extremely invasive and free-floating aquatic plant. I couldn’t imagine what it could be used for.

The Xeo Quyt forest was a magnificent 52-hectare forest and swamp. I understood it was one of the last natural forests in the Mekong Delta. During the Vietnam War (1955-1975), the area was used as a base, and today it hides the remains of Viet Cong bunkers. Paddling through a thick canopy of trees past remains of war relics made fascinating exploring. Moreover, it gave a tiny glimpse into the lives of Vietnamese during that time.

Finally, I discovered the use of dried hyacinth. Resourceful Vietnamese were using it to weave baskets and various other products. After ice cream, we turned our iron horses in the direction of Vinh Long. Once there, we opted for a short ferry ride to an island where a homestay owner showed us the way to his guesthouse. The evening turned out interesting as the establishment was brand-new, and still in the process of being built.

 

29 August – Mekong River Homestay – My Tho – 85 km

Breakfast included a delicious cup of Vietnamese coffee; the best had until then. We wished the family good luck with their new venture and cycled to the ferry. The boat was packed with farmers and traders taking produce to the market. It was astonishing to watch the skilful way they manoeuvred their motorcycles onto and off the ferry.

Our route continued along a river, passing villagers selling simple homemade nibbles. Others were winnowing rice the old-fashioned way or drying homemade sausage in the sun. Beautiful temples and interesting-looking brick-making structures made interesting detours. Each area in the delta produced a different crop, and we were very much in the area of dragon fruit plantations.

The delta came with countless ferry crossings and bridges. Rivers were busy waterways, and all boats had eyes painted on the bows. Fishermen and seafarers of all countries are superstitious, and the Vietnamese were no exception. Some say the eyes are intended to help the boats at sea find their way back to land. Others say the eyes are meant to scare off sharks or water monsters or are meant to bring good luck and fortune. Several fishermen believe their boats are like fish – with souls and eyes to steer clear of danger. Whatever their purpose, eyes adorned boats, both big and small. I understood painting eyes on a ship was an important ritual often associated with a ceremony to “open the eyes” of the vessel and bring it to life. I could relate to this as back home, before a dragon boat race, a ceremony known as “Awakening the Dragon’” or “Dotting of the Eye”, was performed, thus ending its slumber.

On arrival in My Tho, a helpful man pointed us to a budget hotel right across from the night market. It suited us perfectly and once showered, we hurried to the food court, where one could sit overlooking the river. Watching the Mekong flow past was a fitting end to the day and our ride through the delta.

 

30 August - My Tho – Saigon – 75 km

Breakfast was a pavement bánh mì (Vietnamese baguette). There was banh mi stands on practically all streets in Vietnam. The baguette featured crispy bread, with a tasty filling of sliced pork, pate, chicken, egg, spicy chilli sauce and herbs. We ate our baguette, dripping sauce over ourselves and the pavement (I don’t know how the Vietnamese do it), watching the horrendous morning traffic. Then, with full bellies, we joined the mass of motorbikes and resumed our ride out of My Tho. The ride turned out more pleasant than expected as we encountered rural paths leading virtually all the way to Saigon.

The route led through farming communities where women with conical hats sat on their haunches cooking. Chickens pecked in the dirt and men carted huge piles of hay on small motorcycles. The aroma of homemade food drifted across our path as school children headed home to have lunch. Our route meandered through dragon fruit plantations until reaching the city limits. We joined the eight million motorbikes in Saigon, into the city. Following suit, we didn’t look left or right and ignored red lights and road signs, eventually reaching downtown. In one of the alleys, we located Hai Guesthouse with a spacious room and large balcony. The strange thing was virtually everyone referred to the city by its old name “Saigon”, instead of TP Ho Chi Ming city. The only one’s referring to it by its proper name seemed the officialdom.

Sadly, this was the end of our journey. From Saigon, Caron returned home, and I’d to make a beeline to Thailand. I planned to meet my friend, Linda, in Bangkok, as she was coming to Asia to cycle Myanmar. It was a pleasure cycling with Caron, and I hope she enjoyed her time in Southeast Asia. Go well, my friend.