Paradise Found

Ketut arranged a stop over in Nusa Dua (a really touristy part of Bali) we checked in for 2 nights and began the search again.

The place in Nusa Dua is clean and respectable but the owner a Dutch guy is vile, he has 2 monkeys in a small cage, they have no food or water and they pace up and down on their pole all day, when I asked him why he never let them out, he said they were 2 vicious and naughty, - I wonder why?????, we were all tempted to let them free, the only thing stopping us is that they might attack us, we feed them fresh fruit and peanuts and they were very jittery, shame poor things there was also a bird – Indian Mynah who spoke in Dutch and made these shrill noises, Thank God we weren’t there for the holidays it was depressing.

We had had a week of limbo and from phoning around it seemed that what we were looking for was becoming impossible to find as season approached and it way beyond our budget. Ketut rented us his taxi and Craig and I set off again for the elusive dream. We had decided that Uluwatu the little nipple on the south of Bali is where we were headed and let the universe guide us. We took a few side roads and then ended up at this shop where we hopped out to ask if they knew of Villas for rent. We were directed vaguely through a field with beautiful cows and clinking bells and arrived at the top and saw a sign saying temple lodge and Marios left. (My chiropractor had told me about Mario and so we took it as a good omen and universal one too) We followed the signs and bumped in to Christiana, Mario’s wife who was on her way to the beach. We chatted – she didn’t remember Patrick the chiropractor- (it turns out she had been in SA at the time he stayed there, they are Italians who lived in Cape Town for 15 years) She directed us in the other direction for a villa and we eventually ended up at the car park for Bingin Beach.

We chatted to the locals who sent us Made (2nd child). Made was a skinny gorgeous tiny Balinese woman who whisked us through a labyrinth of paths down a steep cliff to a village of little warungs and beach villa’s (very simple, reminded us of what Clifton might have been like 50 years ago.

Craig was sooooo excited when we arrived at the cottage. It has 2 bedrooms upstairs with 2 bathrooms, a balcony with a view over the surf break and downstairs a simple kitchen (yes), a lovely chill out lounge with built in sofa with lots of cushions and our own little garden. It was exactly what we had been looking for.

Our Neighbour is a Frenchman married to a local with 2 little villas he rents out, a intimate little bar, sexy French music and a deck over the beach. We discover later that he makes the best fish barbecue ever.

We negotiate an excellent rate on a long rental and speed off home to tell the boys to pack up, we have found our Villa on the beach.

Moving to Medewi ........ and Back

We opt to call our driver Ketut to take us out to Medewi and pack up ready for the big move. There are no internet cafes in Medewi and so Craig has to stop somewhere on the way and try to connect his modem onto a local network which proves really tough and takes most of the morning of driving around, wasting time with Bali geeks, without Ketut it would have been impossible. Eventually Craig buys another modem, get it configured and off we go.

Next stop is provisions, Ketut who is showing incredible patience stops at Hardy’s, a local version of Shoprite. We have fun working out all the provisions needed for our trip with our taximan in tow pushing the trolley. Whilst eating lunch at a Warung Nicky discovers wonderland, a kids play emporium with a water slide – this child has the largest capacity for fun fun fun, we go and watch him hanging with the locals flying down the water slide.

We arrive at our new house a few hours later, the owner is nowhere to be found and has left us with 2 girls and a young man, none of who can speak a word of English. The girls are super shy, they giggle and look confused every time we try to communicate.

Craig organizes a scooter and promptly looses the paper work for the licence and then discovers even more frustratingly that there is no signal so no internet and the nearest internet café and any form of civilization is 40 minutes drive away.

That night the girls cook us dinner which is painfull. a really weird combination of sausages (eewww imagine whats in them), rice, prawns? Ugly looking sausages at that and salad with an instant Bali salad dressing. The owner still hasn’t arrived, in fact he never does so its really hard to try and make these girls understand that we want them to leave us alone to do our own thing.

Early next morning I (Craig) head for the break, which is what I came for right? Over night the swell has arrived and its humongous, I stand around nervously in the early morning light trying to figure the sets out and plan a route to paddle out. I watch 4 gnarly Aussies paddle out and they get pounded, eventually I follow a young local trying my hardest to keep up with him and manage to get out past the backline. I am now out and to be honest petrified, the waves are mountains and the surfers are unfriendly and all look like pro’s. My first wave is a disaster, I realize too late someone is already up and riding and drop in on a Frenchman, we collide and my skeg gashes his head. Whilst all this is going on the set of the day arrives and we are caught in front and I am pounded by wave after relentless wave. An hour later I make it back to the beach after cutting my leg open on jagged coral.

This is not working out too well, still we make the most of it, our surfer guide Harris takes Bill out at too more friendly break and he has his first surfing lesson. There is not much else to do but our Villa has a glorious pool and so Lou and the boys hang out there.

Next morning early I decide I have to get over this fear and go back out. Harris is with me this time and shows me the best way to get out to the backline, the swell is if anything bigger and I am thinking what the hell am I doing here. To non surfers the way it works is that the surfer closest to the point where the wave is breaking has the right of way and it’s a continual game jockeying for position. Harris takes me far out and I am thinking why so far when this set arrives blocking out the horizon, I look around and realize I am in position and everyone is watching me. Harris is shouting paddle paddle and proving beyond doubt that a males pride is far stronger than his sense of self preservation I paddle.

Next second I am up and dropping down the biggest wave I have ever caught….... ever.
I hit the bottom at speed, make the turn and settle into the wave. Medewi is regarded as the longest left in Bali and I am riding it, this smooth green wall of water that goes on and on for ever. I eventually kick out what seems like a kilometer away and begin the long paddle back out to the point with adrenalin pumping, grinning like a fool to big cheers from Harris. More waves follow and I think that this is all worth it.

Surf and sweeping vistas aside we last another two days and decide this is not for us. (Well lets face it Craig is getting a surf but with no internet connection he is a grumpy bear and not such fun for us) also we are in the middle of nowhere, the only way I (Lou) is going to get any company is to paddle out to the backline and make friends with Aussie surfers and as you all know me well, know I am more a yoga class, massage and glass of wine kind of girl.

We sms Ketut who arrives promptly the next morning to save the day, he negotiates a payoff to the scooter owner for losing the licence, a payoff for our surf coach Harris (what a gem) who we had booked to spend a week with Bill, payoff for the board and bootie rental and finally explain and cut a deal for the accommodation which has been booked for another week. Thank god for Ketut as he had to do the maths with the staff who had borrowed money from us to pay for the electricity……..it was all very complicated. But it was such a relief to leave, it was a wired place and the Aussie owner, well he was probably getting pissed somewhere and we found out he hadn’t paid his staff for 2 months (thank god we left them a tip too)

Anyway we are finally packed and hightail it out of there back to civilization.

Mission to find Paradise

Whilst Ubud is a dreamy utopia we are here to surf and need to find our patch of beach to spend the next month. We decide to hire a car and take a day exploring the island looking for Craig’s elusive dream, a place where he can start his day surfing and end his day surfing.

Thank God we have Lawrence as navigator extraordinaire, Craig as driver and Lou as the final say. The poor kids are dragged along for good measure (they could have stayed and swam and had a good day poor critters)

Driving a car for the first time in Asia is going to be a new challenge and I approach it with a good deal of respect. The roads are narrow, potholed and crammed with people, dogs, kids, scooters, trucks and cars. We set of and surprisingly find our way to Uluwatu the grand and famous surf venue featured in a 1000 surf magazines. The roads are narrow and windy and there is little or no signage so most of the time we haven’t a clue where we are. We wander down little severely potholed roads that take ages to negotiate, stopping frequently to receive vague advice from well meaning locals. Time is pushing, its now already 1pm and we are nowhere closer to finding ‘that for which we seek’.

We read in the book that there is a fantastic surf spot called Medewi, its right up the West coast about 140km away. We think okay lets just skip all this and head out to the middle of nowhere. First though we have to fight our way through lunch time traffic, the centre of the city, past the airport and onto the coastal road. We discover that there is no highway, the first 80km’s consist of built up towns crammed with dogs, kids, footballs, scooters, the odd funeral procession, you know just your normal island life…….on the streets.

Its 4.30 when we arrive in Medewi which is literally just a surf spot with 2 basic resorts and a few warangs (general dealers). Rural to the extreme with black volcanic sand and a wave that makes Craig tingle to the toes. As always the Gods send us a guide, this ones name is Harris, a charming young surfer, facilitator and translator. He shows me the break which is outstanding with the promise of big swells arriving in the coming days and then says he knows of a good place 300m (read 3km) down the road. So we jump in our car and chase his scooter through friendly little villages with people greeting us from all sides. Suddenly a tiny little child darts outs of nowhere and appears smack bang in the middle of the track literally under my wheels. I slam on brakes and stop with my bumper inches from this smiling little cutie pie. Our aching nerves!

We arrive at the Villa which belongs to some Aussie guy who checked out of mainstream and now has 2 suites to rent and spends his days surfing and drinking (his complexion is ruddy to the extreme). He is keen to have us, but we really envisioned our own villa with a kitchen as I am desperate to cook without MSG (trying to keep the itching at bay). He says no problem we can use his kitchen. Not ideal and we are not sure but the surf is beckoning Craig, our suite is large and comfortable with exquisite uninterrupted views over a rim flow pool, rice paddies and onto the ocean without a single building in sight.

We are under time pressure, its past 5pm we have been driving since early in the morning and we still face a four hour journey back to Ubud. It’s an all or nothing kind of decision so we commit to the Villa and start our return journey.

The trip back is worse in the dark, the road is full of trucks carrying containers to the city. In India we had experienced a different type of driving, let’s call it ‘just in time’ driving, similar rules apply here. There are no double lanes and very few straight sections. In order to overtake you have to face oncoming traffic up close and in your face. Between you, the truck you are overtaking, the dogs, scooters all around and the oncoming traffic everyone gives a little and somehow you slip back into your lane just in time. With trucks crawling along at a snails pace I was forced to start driving like a local or we would have taken all night!

We made it back late that night, the car was intact but our nerves were in tatters. I can say with a fair amount of confidence that I am now qualified to drive anywhere.

Ubud UOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM

Setting off early in the morning the sun makes its presence felt through millions of sparkles reflecting off dewy leaves. Climbing aboard my newly rented scooter and wobbling down our bumpy driveway I enter the country lane and weave through dogs sprawled in the road oblivious to my concentration. Young men strut fussing over their prize roosters recovering from the previous night’s cockfighting. Different smells mark the progress, musty cow manure permeates the air, past lush green rice paddies ready for harvesting, laborers priming scarecrow cables to chase greedy birds. Turning left onto the main road I head down the dip into cool forested shady gloom, avoiding nasty potholes in the road I cross the river then full throttle and a burst of speed up the other side and into town. Villagers balancing fresh produce head to the market walking alongside children dressed in crisp white shirts for school. Streets rich with deeply Balinese architecture, thick green foliage, moss, pebbles, wood and glass. Smoky smell of incense permeates the air from ornate bamboo offering to the Hindu Gods. Trendy shops, Polo, Dolce, Gabana, Art Galleries meshed with local Bali life. Temples, monkeys, coconuts, warangs, scent of rough cut fresh timber, beautiful Bali girls on scooters. Left turn down the lane and Louise and I are at the Yoga barn ready to evolve……..“ like hey shew wow”, is not the phrase here, we are amongst the highly evolved beautiful people - more like “when I met the Dali Lama ………”

Ubud is our first stop in Bali and after Vietnam the Hindu influence is refreshing and very evident, its gentle presence setting the pace and mood. Our Canadian friends have organized a stylish introduction to Bali. Our home is exquisite and sets the mind buzzing once more on new ideas for creating living spaces back in SA. After the intense urbanization of the city of Saigon this oasis surrounded by fields and rural life is a treat. Our living spaces are open air, no concern for security but more for dealing with aesthetics and climate. On the first morning in the shower I reach down to grab my razor blade and instead almost grab a snake, who continues sliding over the rocks unperturbed. Frogs and geckos also share our space keeping the mosquitos at bay.

I have always seen images of rice paddies filled with water and people with pointy hats but now we are in the picture. One morning we walk along the thin ridges and examine a system perfected over the centuries, paddies separated by narrow hand packed clay ridges just wide enough to walk on, gravity fed channels for flooding the fields. We have eaten lots of rice throughout Asia and can’t seem to tire of it, its alkaline properties sooth the stomach.
Rice is the food of Gods and is offered everyday at each little temple, an offer first and then the day begins, I think it is such a fantastic way to start your day, little baskets with flowers, money, rice and sometimes sweets. I love watching their ritual, it is flowing, graceful and serene.

I get given the translation into English of the beautiful prayer they say every time they make an offering:

OFFERING TO GOD

My prayer
So deep in my heart
Is whispering to God
In the dancing smoke
Of the incense

My hopes
Are opening
In the fragrant flowers

My soul
Is cleansed
In the holy water

All together glorious is my offering

Ubud is a unique and special town, a good mix of local Balinese and foreigners from all corners of the Western World seeking an organic, intellectual, spiritual and unhurried kind of existence. It has something for everyone (except surf) and so we fly through our time here yogaring, eating out, eating in, talking laughing, shopping, playing with monkeys and absorbing this highly civilized piece of the world.

Singapore to Bali

We take an early morning flight from Ho Chi Min City’s shiny new airport to Singapore and then have a 5 hour layover before our flight to Bali. The boys love Singapore Airport, there is so much too do, they disappear into the games section, I go shopping and Craig goes online to do some
e-mailing. What he hasn’t done is reset his clock, a recipe for disaster. We have arranged a meeting place for us to collect him on the way to boarding but when they announce boarding for our flight Craig is nowhere to be found.

I think he must be at the gate which is a good half a kilometer away. We get there and NO CRAIG (I start to panic slightly and think typical, as he always finds something to do just as we are about to leave for anywhere)

I tell the kids to wait at the gate and I’ll go look for him and with 15 minutes to spare start running, can’t find him, run back to the gate have 5 minutes, plead with them to call him, they won’t, can’t give names, now I’m thinking we will all miss the flight and frustration isn’t even the word. Eventually they come up with a lost child scenario (the only way they can make a public announcement.)

I, in the meantime am engrossed in work thinking I have another hour to spare when Mr Killeen over the PA system penetrates into my subconscious and I start running. Now this is a big airport with signs estimating time needed to reach different sections. I have 2 minutes to cover a 20 minute walk. Somehow I make it and arrive as the gates are closing, slip through and see my pale faced family……am I in KAK. There is a stony silence aboard our lovely Singapore Airlines flights to Bali, the plane is empty so we spread out and descend into our own respective movies.
We have six weeks in Bali and our plan is to chill and get to know one little corner really well. We arrive at about 7pm and line up for passport control noting the prominent signs warning about the death penalty for drug trafficking. We draw cash - figure out the currency and stock up on tequila and wine at the duty free. We pass through customs unhindered and walk out into our newly adopted country. After the slickness of Singapore the difference is profound, we have arrived on a tropical island.

Lawrence and Janine had arranged a driver called Ketut to pick us up and whisk us to Ubud to join them. We search the assortment of signs amongst the enthusiastic Bali faces at arrivals but no Ketut. It is now 9.30 pm and the airport is thinning out rapidly, I wander off to find an internet café, print out the directions Lawrence has given, befriend a “taksi” driver and negotiate a fare for our 1 ½ hour trip up to the centre of the island. We introduce ourselves to the new driver and guess what his name is? KETUT - he laughs and says everyone in Bali is Ketut.

It seems all the names of children are the same, child number 1 Wayan and if a girl Ni wayan , child number 2 Made, child number 3 Nyoman and child number 4 Ketut, then if number 5 comes you start all over again.

Anyway our Ketut is a real gem chatting away about life and business in Bali and generally making us feel very relaxed. Made us laugh too, we were discussing interest rates and when we told him the interest rate in South Africa he said FUCK in his Balinese accent, it was so unexpected we burst out laughing. We decide he is going to be our man on the island and he proves to be invaluable over the next 6 weeks helping smooth over a few sticky situations, a real Mr Fixit!

The streets are dark and its almost midnight by the time we arrive in Ubud. We are staying on the outskirts of the town and spend some time tracking down our new home called the T house. We stop, leave the car and lurch down a lane and knock on a door several times unsure if we are at the correct house. Eventually we hear “who is it?’ and when we say the Killeen’s a huge shriek comes from inside, they weren’t expecting us till the next night. We had all mixed up dates but it was a great reunion, Lawrence started making Arak cocktails, a local rice wine brew and we knew we have made it to Bali.

Just Step off the pavement and walk

Kids are in heaven, after a few weeks of roughing it and being constantly on the move we are in a clean modern hotel, free internet, cable TV and room service. We left them to enjoy and head out to explore Ho Chi Min City (Saigon).

We had heard from a few people about the traffic in Saigon. The only way to cross is to just step of the pavement and walk, trusting all the drivers to flow around you. It is quite a thing to get your head around and I had thought about it a lot. Finally here Louise and I were at one of the busiest traffic circles in Saigon opposite the main city market and we had to get to the other side. Taking a deep breath we stepped of and walked……..like schools of fish the hundreds of scooters, motorbikes, and taxis flowed around us without missing a beat.

Our trip through Asia has been like this, no plan or agenda just step of the pavement and walk, often putting our lives in other people hands. We are coming to the end of the first half of our journey and are once again on the banks of the mighty and inexplicable Mekong River. From the northern most tip of Thailand near the Chinese border, through Laos, back into Thailand, through Cambodia and now close to the ocean in Vietnam we have been zig zagging the Mekong.

We had used every mode of transport imagineable - busses, scooters, boats, canoes, trains, bicycles, tuk tuks, elephants, pontoons, rafts and rickshaws. Traveling this way has its rewards, slow travel lets you appreciate where you are and gain an insight into the daily life of the locals. Your rhythm changes, distances become real again, you acquire a sense of discovery and adventure sharing your days, meals and boredom with people you would otherwise never meet. The humanity that moves about with bundles and children while the world of the aeroplane passes over their heads in every sense of the word. Slow travel is for us, but then I guess you have got to have the time.

What a great and pleasant surprise Ho Chi Min city turns out to be, feels like the Paris of SE Asia. We arrive at the market and after 2 seconds Craig is bored, anyway we end up in the food section and he is no longer bored - funny that. We sit down to Vietnamese spring rolls and a beer from one of the many stalls yumm, Craig’s in heaven and he could have stayed all afternoon but I dragged him off to look at all the groceries and delicious delicacies.

The food market is staggering and we realize that there is a whole new world to food in Vietnam. After spending so much time in little rural towns and villages we are back in foodie heaven. We start thinking about dinner and having seen lots of fresh seafood we decide to fetch the boys and hunt down some chilli crab. We walk back to the hotel, down-load, un-pack, freshen up and then get our concierge to flag down a “real” meter taxi to dinner. Bill is mortified as he is missing his Arsenal game to come and eat with us, shame poor deprived child!!

This restaurant comes highly recommended from an article given to us by the foodie of all time Irene and boy was it an incredible experience! The restaurant is packed, mostly with locals, which is a good sign but after a few minutes at the entrance we are shown to a table by our friendly waiter. There are 15 different kitchens surrounding a central courtyard with each kitchen preparing its own delicacy. A salad section, a barbecue section, a steam section, a soup section and so on and so on.

After being taken on an impromptu guided tour by our showman waiter through all the various kitchens we are flummoxed - how to decide when everything is so mouthwatering! We finally settled on a papaya salad – spicy (just for a change) a chicken mince meatball packed around a sugar cane stick- deep fried, a prawn toast/fritter and the piece de resistance our Crab steamed and stir fried in a Tamarind sauce - God it was sublime. Kids have salad and chicken – a few beers, a bottle of wine all bloody marvelous and happiness all round.

Back to the hotel to drop the kids and we decide to hit the town. It’s a Friday night and the city is busy, the streets are lined with bars, clubs, restaurants, massage parlors packed with people and noise. We settle on a corner bar and try and get a take on things, we are in the touristy part so there is lots of action. People on the make everywhere sex being the central theme- “love you long time one dollar”. Tomorrow we leave and are feeling sad, having caught a glimpse of the shade we want to see the sun. Vietnam we hope to see you again soon.

Flie Lice a Chika

One more bus ride to Saigon, Lou made sure it was the “top of the range”, not a double Decker (remember the Barf Bus) and no changing busses at the border.

A 4 hour bus ride out of Cambodia awaited us before reaching Saigon (Ho Chi Min City).

Cambodians can’t pronounce the R sound or use consonants at the ends of words so Fried Rice and Chicken becomes Flie Lice a Chika. Somewhere near the border with Vietnam we stop for lunch. I decide Flie Lice a Chika would be a safe bet and was I wrong!!! All of us felt squeamish as its plopped down in front of us, Bill got a sharp bone stuck in his cheek, I am busy scrapping all the chicken off and just gonna eat the rice, when Craig in true style casually asks, “do you think this is dog or snake”? the mental picture was too much to swallow, I heaved and almost vomited in my plate, tears flooded my eyes, and Craig laughed, oh my the thought of those poor mangy dogs, or even a snake eeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Shortly thereafter we arrive at the border. Borders can be pretty intimidating places and this was no exception, first up this medical man, dressed in swine flu mode takes everyone’s temperature using this syringe looking device which he inserts into your ear. All forty people on the bus – one syringe, nice. Louise has fed Nicky a Myprodol in desperation half hour before the border because Nicky had been running a temperature and we can’t face a six week quarantine dining on local cuisine at the Cambodian border. Anyways we all pass the swine test and join the queue to go through passport control. Nicky is REALLY feeling fiiiiiine after the myprodol and fooling around big time, once again as the blonde baby of the bus he is getting the rock star treatment. Whilst we are all standing waiting to X ray the bags and obtain stamps he jumps the rows and is led of by the guards for a behind the scenes tour to watch all the bags being scanned. One more mention of snakes, Louise starts heaving, I feel bad and before we know it we are in Vietnam!

Once again we cross the Mekong, there are no bridges so our bus boards a ferry, I get out of the bus and watch Cambodia fade away. Whilst standing with the truckers and some locals this adorable little girl approaches selling bits and pieces. I buy some tiger balm and Wriggley’s and in exchange get a photo, our last memento from Cambodia.

We arrive in Saigon, Craig points to one taxi man and says okay you’re our guy. He was an extraordinary little creature with small teeth (like he never got his adult ones) and a round button mouth, a gruff voice- “where you going” he barks, we give him the name of a hotel we have chosen in mid range lonely planet, he assures us he is a meter taxi (which the book also tells you) and we squeeeeeeeze our bags into his Mazda.

Bill hops in the back and as he is moving across the seats the man slams the hatch and almost propels Bill into the front seat, I just couldn’t hold it the laughter was so good Bill and I had tears running down our face. Off we wiz across traffic in the middle of the road on the wrong side of the road, Vietnam is a city of motor bikes its incredible, like swimming through a shoal of fish.
Eventually the mad one screeches to a halt at the hotel we requested (which turns out later not be the one) Craig goes in and comes out $ 90– too expensive so then this strange creature now becomes animated and writes $25-30 on his hands and goes befok , he knows where to take us, before we could do anything he whizzes off the meter clicking away. In a land of crazy drivers we have picked the outer fringe, he moves over into oncoming traffic and just stays there, cars veering off all around. Finally he slams on brakes on the wrong side of the road and disappears with Craig into another hotel and he comes out gesticulating like mad, still too expensive for him – yeah right and the meter seems to be speeding up!

Anyway we end up at this cool clean oasis exactly 30m from where we got off the bus, Craig negotiates a good deal for 2 rooms while I draw local money to pay the rally driver. I am about to walk into the hotel with “The Driver” to pay (always better when hotel staff are around and he whips it out my hand and gives me change, all the locals are laughing and I know I’m being ripped so I walk into the hotel to find I’ve paid $28 when it should have been around $4.

Anyway we all agreed that it was a fabulous entertaining ride and worth the money, Nicky has the action down pat, and if we need some cheering he does a rendition of the mad taxi driver and we all fall about. Time to explore Saigon!

Phnom Penh

With a banging on the door all hell breaks loose the next morning. The night before I had switched our cheap Chinese alarm off instead of on. Our pick up is outside pacing, he still has three more collections before getting us to the main bus station to catch our 7am, “super deluxe AC” to Phnom Penh.

Ten minutes later with vast amounts of luggage and sleepy children in tow we board the pick up which is a rickety old relic without windows. Louise and I have a good chuckle as we watch the horrified expressions of some Australians as we arrive to pick them up, “Hiya mate is this bus taking us to Vietnam”?

Another bus another journey, except now I’m (Lou) having an allergic reaction which started in Siem Riep in a small way just my arms were itchy, on the bus ride I was having an internal dialogue about what could be wrong, I would get these hot flashes somewhere on my body followed by intense itchiness, it would move all around, it was freaky.

By the time we get off the bus at Phnom Penh and the taxi drivers all attacked us I was ready to blow, which I eventually did, I mean come on they can see I’m with Craig and the boys and we are walking towards a tuk tuk , they still come into your face and say “madam tuk tuk , come with me!”

“CAN’T you see I’m with my husband and I have a tuk tuk, back (f>>K) off for god sake!” I yelled at them, Nicky told me later that they all were smiling and laughing at the mad woman ! Oh well! It's good to release some anger sometimes :)!

Craig decided to follow the 3 South African girls (mmm wonder why) who were staying in a budget guest house, oh help me god, so we had a look I thought, please no, we tried a few others which were just tooo expensive, said ok went back, jeeez Louise, it was horrid at R120 a night for all of us a dormitory room 4 single beds, lets just say it wasn’t the highlight of our trip. (…..It was great, clean rooms, cheap beer and food, lots of interesting travelers and we have to do at least one backpacker joint on the trip, part of the experience!)

Not to mention the itchiness was getting progressively worse and eventually I surrendered to the fantastic orgasmic scratching with my hairbrush, out of control I was doing myself serious harm, even the strong antihistamines Murray prescribed were doing nothing, I can only think it’s the MSG which Asians use in everything and I mean everything. The second night after nearly exfoliating my skin off, we stopped at a pharmacy and he said allergy (duh) Erticaria? Take these, cortisone, it did help but it took a while for it to go completely but by that stage would have taken anything to stop the itching, my god it’s terrible, and the worse thing is, msg is their salt.

Given Cambodia’s magnificent civilized past its recent history is horrific, 25-30% of their population were tortured, beaten and massacred just 30 years ago, their only crime being that they were educated, Pol Phot’s grand plan to develop an Agrarian utopia of subservient peasants

We decided to explore Phnom Penh and went to the war Museum, oh my god, thank goodness we didn’t go to the killing fields, Nicky said straight away that there were ghosts. What was once a school became a torture chamber where Pol Phot did the most horrendous things to anyone considered an enemy to their cause. I was creeped out and depressed, it is incredible brutality and they kept meticulous records with photo’s to prove it all. The fact that most of the leaders haven’t been brought to justice astounds me beyond anything, Pol Phot died of old age in exile a few years ago. The photographs are haunting. There is still something in the atmosphere in Cambodia, how can a country just continue after such a brutal time. There has been little retribution for the people who caused such pain, no reconciliation, just a get on with it and dry your tears kind of attitude.

A poem written by a prisoner explains that time so well (below)

That night we popped in to the Foreign Correspondence club to cheer up, a beautiful colonial building on the Mekong River as another tropical storm hit. To be sure this setting must be the inspiration behind the launch of a thousand novels.

We sat next to a Dutch girl, who was writing to her friends back home on why men are such bastards- she met a cool European man at a bar the previous night really hit it off was thrilled and then gave him her phone number, on the way out his Cambodian wife pops up and asked her why she wasn’t taking her husband home, it was fine with her as long as she used a condom!!!
She is in love with Phnom Penh and is here to teach English. She recommended that night’s restaurant a hip, trendy and organic place that supports training of Cambodians for the service industry – good food and sadly as always crazy expensive white wine.

We have a family vote to end the traveling and settle down somewhere in Bali for a while (surf beckoning). I was keen to carry on but the boys were tired and it was 3:1 Our last stop was Saigon (Ho Chi Min City) from where our flight was booked to Bali, hasty emails to Lawrence and Janine to see if we could join them, flight numbers and dates changed, we were set.