Thursday 31 December 2009

A Wander in the Imperial City


With a name like A Dong Silk, I had no choice but to step in and purchase a suit at this fancy little tailor boutique in Hoi An. I casually flicked through their catalogue of suit cut options, which was in essence a neatly bound collage of the fashion pages of GQ and Esquire magazines from the last year, and decided upon a Hugo Boss style skinny fit grey option. The sole reason this appealed was because Barney from How I Met Your Mother (someone in my old flat used to Sky+ it and got me addicted) was modelling the piece and for those of you who know the show, his suits define 'awesomeness'. A little fact for you, Barney, who plays a razor witted playboy in the series, had a previous incarnation as the star of Doogie Houser when he was a teenager. True story. The ladies at A Dong Silk were not shy in taking all my measurements. I'm sure some of the readings were not necessary at all (why did they need to check my buttocks?) and left me somewhat violated, especially when I had to take my shirt off in the middle of the store whilst the staff and customers watched eagle eyed as I carefully sucked in. Their techniques were as thorough and similar to that of Joey Tribiani's flamboyant tailor.

Following this strutting parade, I grabbed a bicycle and took a tour of the town, over the decorated bridges towards the beach a few kilometres from the centre of the district. There is something very liberating in observing the folk, absorbed in the routine of their daily lives, in this calm and pleasant manner and I felt fully justified in the rental, in spite of the embarrassingly moist harris when I finally jumped off the rusty device. I spent the final day at Hoi An visiting the impressive Cham Temples at My Son, situated in the
dense jungle. Unfortunately the majority of these relics were destroyed during the War and only a handful of the original foundations have survived. The short trip up to Hue, the imperial Capital of Vietnam, was also stunning in it's deep scenery of twisting roads within the stooping mountainside, complete with silent waterfalls and inviting pine green shrubbery. It's no wonder that the route through the Great Ocean Road is so highly regarded by those who have had the fortune of passing by.

Hoi An bicycle tour


My first dorm room of the trip welcomed me on my first day at Hue, the distinct smell of athlete's foot blanketing the air. All in all the hostel is surprisingly nice as it's only been open for six months and has yet to lose the shine from its first coat of paint. Being lucky enough to be able to fall asleep in most environments the rhythmic roar of snoring from neighbouring bunks has not impaired my stay either.



With the Aussies at Cafe Clem by the Perfume River


I befriended some travellers from Perth and Tasmania (there appears to be no shortage of Australian students carelessly spending their loaned dollars on their post exam vacations) and on one of our aimless strolls into the City, stumbled upon some children playing football on the side road. They hollered at us to join in, and on viewing my tremendous four kick ups in a row, applauded and chanted to me as if I was a young Nolberto Solano playing his trumpet down the wing. This favour soon turned to boyish resentment as I spooned the flat plastic ball into the murky waters of the nearby river. We briskly pressed on as they desperately tried to retrieve the ball back with the aid of a fallen branch.

Nobby. Not pleased with the comparison

As our walking tour in the midday sun had left us tired and parched, the night was seen to a close at Brown Eyes Bar, hidden behind a small garden a few blocks from the hostel. The chirpy slogan of the bar was enticing enough 'We close when the last person passes out', encouraging me to debut a few new moves on the dance floor, including a wonderfully apt machine gun dance, complete with Platoon-esque knee slide with arms raised defiantly in the air. I imagine the local clientele were pleased with this reference to a bloody chapter in their recent history. This move, along with my classic lassoo, robot and fish tank dive caught on with the tourist pack, who mimicked the motions in what I can only assume was quiet awe and not that of mocking.



The King's Panorama Rooftop Bar at The Imperial Hotel


I fly out to Hanoi tonight, arriving at my hostel for around 10pm, just in time to douse myself in lynx Africa and sing along to The Final Countdown just before midnight. I can only mildly speculate on the cruel beauty that awaits in the Chinese year of the Tiger.

Hue Song of the Day - The Police - Every Breath You Take
The repetitive bass loop plodded along nicely as I gazed at the street views from the rooftop bar of the elegant Imperial Hotel. I chose a small can of tonic water as my poison of choice, it was the cheapest item on the menu and still cost more than most of my meals.

i-Pod Song of the Day-
Flight of the Conchords - Cheer Up Murray
Our favourite Deputy Cultural Attaché at the New Zealand Consulate gets a pick me up from Bret and Jermaine.



Cheer up Murray/It's time to forget /Your wife met someone on the net /Let's go and get an ice-cream

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mqbB8aPD1UU


Some people don't return his calls

Thursday 24 December 2009

White Rose Christmas



"I think you need a shower" were the first words that the Manager of the Perfume Grass Inn uttered to me on arriving, whilst my backpack swung limply from my shoulders, late at night at Nha Trang. The kind faced Mr. Huynh Hong Huan had a fair point. I had travelled for seven hours on the train from Ho Chi Minh City and I felt worse for wear. The journey was not as romantic as I had depicted in my mind beforehand. I imagined sitting by the window, watching the farmers plough the lush vivid fields as the train ebbed and flowed towards the horizon. This wasn't so, I shared a kindergarten sized table seat with local Vietnamese folk who, it transpired, felt great communal joy in sharing spring rolls with one an other and not me. I was real hungry too, so I made do with a few sips from my lukewarm water bottle, which by then had the smell of my own weary breath.


Nha Trang Beach. Real purdy

Nha Trang is not the beach resort I had imagined. There were no bungalows or the quiet calm like that of Sihanoukville in Cambodia - more of a built up metropolis to the equal of any Spanish resort. Having said that, the beach front itself is exquisite, with humble mountains engulfing the flickering turquoise sea. Without the need to tan or the desire in having to pay for a sun lounger, I made do with enjoying a few mango smoothies from the Sailor's Club, a popular and recommended bar and restaurant by the sea. The night life is enjoyable, and accompanied with my friend for two days, Morris (a gentle and bearded young motorcycle enthusiast from Leicester who also owned freakishly child-like small hands) we sampled the many jam jars of potent and sugar laced cocktails which had the ability to wipe your memory like the flash devise in the movie Men In Black featuring Carlton Bank's cousin and Two-Face.

At certain times in life, your curiosity will betray you. One such time was when I entered the XQ Historical Village, which in my defence, looked intriguing from the other side of the street. On entering this little courtyard of several small shops, I had to wander round a museum of weaving for an hour or so, accompanied by an encroaching hostess. She didn't even ask me any questions or for my opinion, she simply followed me a handful of steps behind for the entire duration, as I fained interest in the craft of stitching and threading. The fairly swanky brochure stated the following:
"Inviting you penetrate deep into embroidery artworks imbrued with legends, memories, passion experiences..." Blimey.


Display at XQ Historical Village. Exactly how I felt during the tour

The overnight bus trip to Hoi An, the tailoring capital of Vietnam, was a lot more painless than I had presumed. You could just about make out the teems of rain-soaked paddy fields in the soft moonlight. Very charming this sight was indeed. I arrived at Hoi An bus station at 6am on Christmas Day and had to endure a further four hour wait until my room at the Nhi Nhi Hotel was ready and cleaned for me. I spent this time wolfing down some breakfast (it was free, so I ate like Henry the VIII) and spending an hour or so teaching one of the young staff some basics in English. She's a part time student and so wished to work on some of her pronunciations. The highlight was when she would point at objects and I'd have to pass on the English for her to repeat. Her grasp of the words 'Lamp' and 'Table-cloth' are second to none now. My first ever student. I was surprised that I didn't have a rage on like I always did at old work when I had to explain something simple.

When my room was finally ready I was greeted by a four poster bed with rose petals liberally scattered on the blanket. I'm living it up, baby. I felt like Prince Akeem in Coming to America and I even asked the receptionist as to the whereabouts of my bathers. She didn't look amused at this request. Santa granted me one other gift too, as my Christmas lunch at Mermaids, a fairly well known restaurant by the Old Town, was sublime. I tucked into a crispy crab meat flaked hoanh thanh - a Won Ton to you and me, and a White Rose, a signature dish around these parts made up of delicate parcels of shrimp and pork on rice paper.

However, on wandering aimlessly at the quaint alleyways at the Old Town, I stumbled on the Museum of Folklore. I hadn't learnt from my XQ Village experience and had to once again breeze in and out of a dire display of tired looking crafts and surreal wooden model dancers (pictured). Don't make me go back there.





A sample of shops from the Old Town.
Guilty, on both counts*







Nha Trang Song of the Day: Daft Punk - Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger
Awesome tune that I whacked on the playlist at The Red Sun Bar four times. The punters didn't mind though as they all left by the second round. This still kills the version that Kanye 'Fish Sticks' West urinated so liberally over. Still can't believe he ruined our Taylor Swift's big day at the 2009 MTV Video Awards. Jackass

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BDlwwKikOUI

i-Pod Song of the Day: Friendly Fires - Skeleton Boy
Nice dancey feel to this, get the album if you haven't already. They're all the rage with the kids.



*may not be true

Saturday 19 December 2009

Saigon and the Winking Colonel

So, I am now in Saigon (or Ho Chi Minh City as it's officially named now) in Vietnam. This place is extraordinary. On falling out of my taxi on the pavement of Pham Ngu Lao (the humble backpacker's district) I very nearly got mauled by the urgency of motorcycles careering on the roads with little care for anything obstructing their destination. They remind me, when I attempt to cross the street, of those scenes that you see on National Geographic where swarms of Pirhana's circle around a rotting corpse at great speed only to leave a few debris of evidence after a matter of seconds. It's fairly manic here and the picture book energy is visible from every corner; from the cyclo drivers stalking vulnerable tourists to the ladies with their conical cone hats balancing starfruit and durian in their thinly woven baskets.

The first night here I befriended an English chap and a Glaswegian, who were both touring the country as a break from their busy lives in Canary Wharf. We watched Vietnam lose to Singapore in a tightly fought final of the SEA Cup at a popular and red-lit bar, Eden. Our Vietnamese waitress, who ensured our glasses of ba ba ba beer were always within arms reach, was inconsolable at her team's poor showing during the game. So much so that we decided to raise her spirits by teaching her to sing 'Who Ate All The Pies' at the rather rotund Singapore goalkeeper. Only, being such urbane creatures, we amended the word 'Pies' to 'Banh Gio' - a Vietnamese Pork dumpling, so that the endearing waitress could relate to the full vitriol of the words we were singing.


Chilling out with Frank the Tank

The next morning we decided to take a tour to the Cu Chi Tunnels, just outside the City. This small area, close to the border with Cambodia, hides 250km of underground tunnels that the Viet Cong utilised during the Vietnam War. Throughout the earthy turns were remains of vicious booby traps of sharp bamboo rods and torturous iron spikes awaiting the oncoming 'enemy' (as they so succinctly describe the Americans and French). The tunnels themselves are cavernous, muddy and claustrophobic to the extreme, with only a flicker of candle light leading you to the tight exit. I felt a little bit like a Borrower, scurrying on my haunches, gasping for a breath of air as the sweat poured down my face and neck. I've felt fitter, happier and more productive.

The real highlight though was the shooting range, which we visited towards the end of the site visit. A theme that keeps surfacing on this trip is that of tours showcasing massacre and human brutality to the extreme whilst in close proximity will usually be a playground for tourists to parade and indulge in the mentality of a soldier. With a slight quiver (of excitement, not nerves...definitely not nerves), I picked up an AK-47 and punched the still midday air with a barrage of noise and bullets, occasionally encouraging the dirt to rise around the battered deer posted target. The last time I felt such a surge of adrenaline pulse through my veins was when the Cobra gang were finally put to the sword by the injured Daniel-San in the final scene of The Karate Kid.

AK-47 Hour

If, like me, you have a curious disposition on the variants in Western fast-food franchise menus outside of home, on visiting a local KFC, I witnessed, rather disappointingly, a very familiar range of options to that of England. However, I was pleased to see the sale of Egg Tarts, spearheading the dessert menu, which is quite the polar opposite of a cool and nostalgic Vienetta. I opted out of dining here by the way, you know I wouldn't betray this journey with a cheap and flaccid suckling at Colonel Sanders's sad teet. Instead, I visited the rooftop bar of the Sheraton Hotel, looking out at a spectacular 360 degree panoramic view of Saigon and the distant murmur of the City streets, whilst supping casually on a Whiskey Sour. I am settling in well with this backpacking experience.


Decoration at The Saigon Palace Restaurant. Note Kriss Kross LP on the bottom left. Oh, you may have noticed, I've bought a camera.

I'll return now to Madame Cuc's Hotel, which appears to house the friendliest staff I have encountered to date, readily fussing over a hint of tiredness or lethargy with a Grandmother's care and attention. My room, although fairly cramped, has a distinct smell of a frozen Margarita. Towards sleep I try and forget that this is the residue of citrus bleach and instead fade out with the thought of my lying in a hammock by the beach, cocktail in hand whilst most of you play haphazardly in the Winter snow.

HCMC Song of the Day: The Veronicas - Untouched
This was on Channel V, a poppy music channel, and I have to concede, this song has a great little string interlude and I'm not embarrassed of my admiration for these two starlets. Just to show you their caring side, in 2006 the band joined Steve Irwin's Wildlife Warriors Worldwide charity. Great girls.

i-Pod Song of the Day: Arctic Monkeys - Cornerstone
Nice song from the rather flat Humbug album

Tuesday 15 December 2009

Holden Caulfield Narrates Our Downfall

I'm now back in Phnom Phen for a couple of days before my flight out to Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) on Thursday. I am staying by the Lake once more, only for a couple of nights, to save on some dollars and luckily my room at #11 Guesthouse Lakeside, is a touch cleaner than last time. I even have a mirror in my bathroom, and this can only be a good thing - though the dark and bruised reflection whispers a very different story.

I decided to have a few relaxing drinks at The Magic Sponge, which is a quaint and quirky bar near my hostel. The decor is childlike, what with paintings of SpongeBob SquarePants on the brick walls. Behind the bar is a sign indicating the sale of marijuana joints for $2 a throw. This concerned me somewhat as I believed that weed was illegal over here. In fact, it is. Just that the barmen bribe the local officers $1.50 per month to keep their silence and cooperation. Ah, the sweetly acidic smell of police corruption.


SpongeBob experiences another bad trip. Kids, drugs are bad


The barmen are endearing enough, there's an English Swampy, a Nigerian who constantly wears a blond bob wig, and a Cambodian who sports a Maori-styled plastic mask. I believe they may be high on more than life itself. Fate played me a cruel hand whilst at this bar though. An Irish man, around the age of fifty who looked somewhat like an anorexic Peter Cook (sans acerbic wit), sat next to me. I had to therefore endure hours of this man talk at me about anything that interested him, from paedophilia in the Catholic Church to coffee plantations in the North of the Country. I spent a lot of time making the Olympic Games logo on the bar surface with the falling condensation from my can of Klang beer.

I don't usually mind easy banter at a pub or bar, but I just wanted to watch the game on television and my mind was occupied by other pressing matters (had my stomach recovered from Malarone poisoning, namely). The part of the conversation that irked me most was when Thin-Cook asked me where I was heading next. On answering with my muttered 'Vietnam' he immediately stated that 9 out of 10 people who go there dislike it enormously. Thanks for that, can't wait to get there now. Jerk.

To ensure some detachment from this man, I told him, when probed, that my occupation was promoting eco-tourism for Ethical Traveller magazine, and that I was touring South East Asia finalising the 2010 nomination list for most ethical countries to visit. I don't know why this sprung to mind, but I was just so bored that this entertained me for a while.
I kind of feel bad about this lie now though as Thin-Cook was totally engrossed by my 'work' and wished to hard sell his now native Cambodia for the list. For your records, here are the actual top 5 destinations for ethical tourism for 2010, according to Ethical Traveller magazine, my new employers:

Argentina
Belize
Chile
Ghana
Lithuania


Surely there's nothing ethical about travelling to Lithuania. Well, that's what I thought at first, but having just spied the Lithuanian National Tourism Office website I am left humbled as apparently the major industry there are refrigerators and freezers. I'm booking flights now.

I digress,
monumentally.

A funny thing happened the other night, which roused me from sleep. A major fight broke out in my hostel between an American guy, a fat middle-aged Cockney and a Cambodian girl (who, it later transpired, was a prostitute). The Cockney man and the American were actually fighting over Roxanne, and were throwing punches at each other, both falling and crashing on the walls of the hostel rooms from the exchanged blows. It seemed like they knew each other though as the Cockney kept screaming "I don't care what happened in Thailand, you selfish c***, this slag's mine!"
It was hilarious and not even a little bit depressing.


Please turn off the red light. I'm tired and I want to sleep


I'm off now to honour a pinky promise I made to a little girl selling books by the Riverside to purchase something from her literary carousel. All her books in her little blue plastic basket look new enough, but having bought one recently I found that she'd photocopied every page. Most of the lines within the chapters were at an angle and a couple of pages were missing. No bother, meant I finished the book at quite the pace and I know better than to break a pinky promise.

Phnom Phen Song of the Day: Glenn Medeiros - Nothing's Gonna Change My Love For You
What a song! I remember this when I was a kid. In some capacity I want to be as slick as old Glenn when I grow up. Check out the video, it's awesome: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kybeq2dWBf8


i-Pod Song of the Day:
Whiskeytown - Bar Lights
"Well I got five more dollars, drink another. You'll feel fine. You'll feel fine, You'll feel fine"

Friday 11 December 2009

A Touch of Bother Sleeping

I've not really shared with you the local cuisine that I have enjoyed out here in Cambodia these past few weeks. I've had the pleasure of trying some delicious traditional Khmer dishes such as fried pork shavings in a peanut sauce, complimented with crispy fried rice (the look of which suggested a taste of rice crackers but this was not to be true). Freshly caught and barbecued barracuda, by the sea, was a real highlight this week, too. However, to gain a better insight into the snacking habits of the locals, you ought to peer into the various food carts, wheeled down the arching roads. A very busily attended cart, had within it's glass display, teams of tasty fried crickets, juicy grubs, limp tongues of recently deceased livestock, chickens with their stomachs wrapped around their heads and my favourite; crispy fried tarantulas. You have to bow at the resourcefulness of the Cambodians. If they can catch it, they'll eat it.


I'll stick with just the mint aero, thanks

I am now at the Southern Coast of the country, in the lovely little seaside town of Sihanoukville. My first impression of this town, was that the emblem, a Lion and a Lioness, was somewhat questionable. Especially as this place advertises itself as being a family resort.



Lions, taking it slowly

I'm staying at Monkey Republic, a popular backpacker hangout. The cool blue bungalow huts are pretty sweet and the bar actually plays decent music, which is not that common in South East Asia. I have even taken time out in their two 'movie' and 'playstation' rooms, discreetly located upstairs above the restaurant.

However, my first real physical ordeal of this trip began yesterday, when I innocently popped a tablet of Malarone, the anti-malarial drug (other anti-malarial tablets are available). The side effects to this drug will haunt me for days to come. I was up all night and suffered the indignity of having to change my underwear three times during this slumbersome period. Three times is a lot of bad dreams in one session. The friendship with my room mate, a guy called Alex who travelled with me from Phnom Phen, will probably not last. He has seen and heard too much. As have probably you, even with this vague insight into the depths of my despair.

You'll be pleased to hear that I'm feeling a little better now, but have not been able to indulge wholly to what the resort has to offer. I had considered taking a kayak out to explore the coast but in my current capacity, this is probably not a wise move.

The beach here is amazing though, the Gulf of Thailand glistening in the midday sun, green and yellow tourist boats swaying idly by the shore. The only break in the sound of the crashing and collapsing of waves, is the dogged ladies patrolling the beach, enticing the sunbathers into getting a pedicure or a massage. One lady even manicured one of my little toes as a taster, trimmed the cuticles and finished with a squeeze of a lime. It looked magnificent, but like a little girl's toe, so I opted out and I've already shared enough foot stories to last a couple more weeks at least.

Sihanoukville Song of the Day: The Killers - Ruby Don't Take Your Love To Town
Can't believe they played this B-side at the bar at Monkey Republic. I love the way it shuffles along like a breezy country song (and not in a Billy Ray Cyrus way, either)

i-Pod Song of the Day: Otis Redding - (Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay
I know, a little clichéd, but it's the perfect song for kicking back and having a read by the sea.

P.S. To my old housemate, this is not the version you used to sing


Friday 4 December 2009

My Little Piggies Went To The Market

The night market in Siem Reap is a wonderful experience at dusk as the stalls are lit by streams of fairy lights draped from the walls and ceilings. There was only one way to fully immerse myself in this event and that was to opt for a thirty minute foot massage in the shelter of a small hut, complete with the snaking sliver of incense smoke escaping from the room. For $3, this was great value, especially for anyone who has had the pleasure of seeing my Frodo-esque feet (though perfectly pedicured, it has been mentioned by some folk in the past). Through clicks, twists and knuckles popped, I endured pain, much laughter and soothing palms, all in equal measure.

Feet: Pampered

Under the euphoria of this experience, I hazily meandered down the maze like market. Disillusioned and light headed, I opened my wallet and acquired new Ray Ban's (I look more Ray Meagher than Ray Charles) and multiple hand woven bracelets (for those who had a bet on as to how soon I'd fold and decorate my wrists - it only took me two weeks).

The following day I had another bus to catch for a return trip back to the capital. Looking at my watch as I sat waiting at the Mandalay Inn reception for my moto ride to the station, I soon felt that I had been forgotten about. With ten minutes until departure and a few quick and urgent phone calls later by the concierge, it was official. I had been forgotten about. The next bus was a mere three hours later, and so the staff at the Guest House sprung into action and lurched forward their personal motorbike whilst I sheepishly clambered on the back seat.
The driver had to hit breakneck speeds (for Cambodia this is around 10km/hour) to ensure I got to the station on time. The worrying aspect of this was that the driver had a helmet on and I didn't. What was that about? Surely we should either both wear helmets or neither of us. You can't just opt to save one person and not the other. I also wasn't sure as to the protocol with where to put my hands. Around the driver's waist? I've seen girls do that, but do guys? I chose to hang my left hand on his shoulder as a compromise. It all felt a little weird for both of us by the time I clambered on board the delayed bus.

Being a passenger is not empowering

The past couple of days I've been enjoying the laid back lifestyle accompanied by my hostel by Boeung Kak Lake. The room that I have is behind the communal toilets and so I have the pleasure of awaking from the bliss of sleep by the sudden odour of early morning users of the loos. It's no rooster call, that's for sure. However, as the hostel sits by the Lake, I enjoyed a painfully hungover evening watching the sunset, whilst darting bats skimmed the water at a concerning proximity from my hammock. I got a little bit scared and decided to retire to the 'movie room' where I had to endure an hour and a half of 'The Surrogates' - another Bruce Willis inspired disaster. This man seriously needs to re-think his vocation.

Today drew to a close with a rather dull boat ride over the Tonle Sap and Mekong Rivers. The setting should have been perfect with the sun's amber embers residing for the day and the city lights sparkling by the riverside. However, the thick smog drowned the final stages of the setting sun and the rickety boat, complete with bright orange plastic seating, merely went round in a large and unambitious circle and retreated back to the dock.

Tomorrow sees a trip down to the seaside town of Sihanoukville. According to the official website of the the beach resort "Sihanoukville is a town in Cambodia. People live there. It is fun!"
Factual and to the point, I think I may like it there.

Phnom Penh Song of the Day: Spin Doctors - Two Princes
Came belting out a bar in Boeung Kak, called Magic Sponge, or something, whilst a few of us were playing Jenga. I won. I never win.

i-Pod Song of the Day: Biffy Clyro - Bubbles
Cracking song from their new album 'Only Revolutions' featuring Josh Homme from Queens Of The Stone Age on guitar.

Wednesday 2 December 2009

Within The Ruins


I was not confident on the capabilities of my bus from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap on account of a little matter that prior to boarding, around five motorcycles were carried off, along with several sacks of rice grain. No people were on the bus at all and half the bags had split wide open. I had my doubts whether this rickety machine could keep one man and his rather large bag in tact.

As I clambered over the bare feet of the various comfortable Japanese tourists, I found that my seat on the bus was badly broken and in a permanent state of recline. I'm as laid back as they come, but not for such a duration of a trip and with everyone packed like sardines in a crushed tin can, I couldn't easily swap. The good news was that the bus had light entertainment for all passengers for the course of the journey (apparently this is why this VIP bus cost $1 more than the budget alternative) . However, I'm not sure that a ten inch black and white television mounted on the front showing 'Baby's Day Out' dubbed in Cambodian, constitutes light entertainment. Cracking film by the way, the toddler reminds me of a young Kevin McAllister. They have a similar mischievous grin and the only difference between the two for me is that the child had no bird lady to dig him out of trouble.

Some six, bumpy, bottom-tearing and tiring hours later, the bus wheezed and choked to an uncomfortable halt at Siem Reap, like an asthmatic pensioner drawing his last breath before dying in the arms of his nursing home carer. It's a pretty little City, the French influence painted liberally on their numerous winding boulevards and dusty markets. Siem Reap is also home to the great Temples of Angkor (namely Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom) located just seven km away from the City Centre.

As most travellers do, I took an early morning trip to the Temples, accompanied by my new hired moto driver, who I shall name as Chuy, due to his resemblance to the character of the same name in Alfonso Cuarón's poignant film, Y Tu Mamá También. Chuy is a quiet and noble driver and as he knew no English, or indeed any verbal skills at all, we communicated solely via a thumbs up or a thumbs down for the entire day. This worked so well that I am thinking of introducing this primitive rule if and when I return back to England. Chuy, being a dear man, spent the majority of the early Morning consoling my newly wounded heart. My digital camera screen had broken (not surprisingly whilst within my rucksack on the horror bus) and I just couldn't hold the tears back.

As such, all the numerous and amusing photographs of me with all my new found friends will not be uploaded any time soon. OK, so there was only one photo I had to upload, and that was of myself and the laundrette ladies all with my freshly clean underwear on our heads, but we were all having a swell time.

I'm going to spend the rest of this afternoon at the roof top gym at the Guest House. I need to hide the evidence of yesterday's mess where I managed to chip out a square inch of tile as I dropped the free weights on to the ground. Look, it's really hot out here and I was tired from scrambling up the sandstone steps of all of those Temples. Luckily the calamitous echo of steel on ground was drowned out by the neighbouring rattle of the local construction workers. The same workers who wake me up at 6am every morning. What goes around comes around I suppose.

Siem Reap Song of the Day: Elvis Presley - I Can't Help Falling In Love With You
What a song, I'd forgotten about Mr P's warbling charms, which came on during last night's dinner on Bar Street. The only downside is that each time I have this song in my head it transforms, rather quickly, to the odious UB40 version


i-Pod Song of the Day: The Dead Weather -
Treat Me Like Your Mother
Another great side-project from Jack White, cool tune

Monday 30 November 2009

Kingdom of Rust

I've now left the polluted City of Bangkok behind, and now find myself in the wonderful Kingdom of Cambodia. My latest Guest House gamble seems to have paid off. The Bright Lotus 1 is just a short walk from the river and is immaculate - relative to My Hole-House Guest House in Thailand. I have an amazing view overlooking the Royal Palace and National Museum and the room itself has the luxury of two double beds. I am not overly sure what to do with two beds, so I've pushed them together to make me a bed the size of Rick Waller.

Across the road is a healthy handful of restaurants, bars and hotels including the well known FCC where I enjoyed a pleasant jar of Ankor draught whilst looking over at the muddy banks of the Mekong and Tonle Sap Rivers. Better still was a little bar that I luckily passed by on my walk home, called de ja vu, comprising of mostly ex-pat and international travellers. I embarked on a fairly heavy night of conversing, drinking and singing on stage with a table of volunteers from the local hospital who originated from such places as Switzerland, Ethiopia, Philadelphia, Brisbane, Cork and Auckland.

The owner (who is from Bulgaria and resembles the would be love child of Jack Sparrow and Dimitar Berbatov) and I have now become firm friends after engaging in humorous banter regarding his potential divorce to his luminous Portuguese wife. I naturally urged the break up in the hope that I can then marry her myself. I think he can see through my plan though.

Dimi, the Bar Owner

Cambodia is absolutely Ronny Roasters at the moment and so the day-time trips to the Royal Palace and National Museum have been at times exhausting and only just saved by my constant appetite for an ice-cream. The natural shade of the courtyards were met with eternal gratitude even as most of the ice-cream melted over my shirt and hands. Today I took a fierce looking moto to the Killing Fields of Choeung Ek, located about 15km outside of the Capital. The moto underwhelmed me beyond measure as we got routinely overtaken by smirking school children on their bicycles. Not only that but due to the lack of accelerator (my lawnmower at home has a more powerful engine) we had to brace the slow and unbearable stench of neighbouring garbage trucks drift by.

On a not too dissimilar note, I have encouragingly finally surrendered to the wild orchid like aroma rising from my backpack and decided to do my laundry. On handing over my bag of secrets to the young ladies at the local laundrette, they mercilessly went through my underwear, piece by piece and openly mocked me. Even though I'm not fluent in Cambodian I didn't need a translator to understand the reasons behind their cackling and pointing at my Incredible Hulk pants. I have never felt so humiliated. Until I looked on in further horror as they cried hysterically over my bright pink pants.

Phnom Penh Song of the Day: Cyndi Lauper - Time After Time
This majestic 80's song lit up my breakfast at Cafe 33 and somehow narrowly beat a terrific euro-dance version of Enrique Iglesias's first English smash, Hero
i-pod Song of the Day: Passion Pit - Let Your Love Grow Tall
A real gem from their sunny album Manners which I urge you to have a listen to

Wednesday 25 November 2009

Everyone Looks Like Damo from Home & Away

Every time I walk past this tuk-tuk driver on Soi Chanasongkhram Road, next to my Guest House, he delivers me a charmless smile as if we are old school friends, and loudly asks me if I am from either from Malaysia, Singapore, Bali or Sri Lanka. Every single day this week. The destination appears to change with his mood. Surely it's obvious that I'm from Bengal, India and was brought up in England? Idiot. This man is ruining my trip.

In the past couple of days I've also discovered, as I was unpacking my clothes, that my only pair of jeans that I'd brought, and the pair that I wore for the journey over here, had a massive rip down my backside. Basically, this must have meant that I looked like Christina Aguilera in the Dirrty video, but without the grinding. No wonder the Qantas Air Stewardess begged me not to store my hand luggage at the upper cabin locker on route here. It's amazing what tailors out here can do for one pound fifty though, I'm now patched up and ready for more.

I've been recommended by a few folk to embrace the shadier side of Khao San Road (most of it) and get myself a new ISIC card. This really appealed as I truly have missed being a student. On obtaining said card, the only problem was that they couldn't fit 'University of East Anglia' across it (my old Uni, I wanted a glimmer of truth in this deception), and so, pressed for an alternative I panicked and chose 'Leeds'. I could have gone for Cambridge, Oxford or Edinburgh, but I had to go for Leeds. For shame.

The good news is that the new ISIC card is already paying for itself. Sure, in the photo I look like I'm about to mug a nun, but I've already gotten half price on various tourist attractions. Some have been charitable organisations, but I don't have time to feel guilty about these things.

One of the more interesting trips that I've made this week has been to Jim Thompson's House. For those of you who are not aware of Jimbo, he was an American assigned to the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), forerunner to the CIA, during the Second World War. Although he didn't see any action, he fell for the City of Bangkok on a posting here and developed his own business of exporting Thai Silk.
However, after a trip to the Cameron Highlands in Malaysia, he went missing and there is still huge mystery circling his disappearance. Was it the CIA, or local tribes or was it suicide? I fear only one man can resolve this issue, and that's: www.jimcorr.com. I'll drop him an email to see if he can shed any light.

Some of you may be aware that I have also ditched my plush Hotel with pool for a more traveller styled Guest House. This downgrade is of epic proportions. If any of you have read The Beach by Alex Garland you'll be able to envisage the room that I'm in as it's exactly how the author describes the one that Daffy shoots himself in at the beginning of the novel. All painful light at night seeping through the vents and questionable stains on the wall. I love it.

This is not entertainment

The only positive thing going is that the common room is great, loads of backpackers and really cheap Changs for me. I got invited to go to an infamous Ping Pong show last night by a group of Canadian girls. I can't think of many things worse and with the hope of preserving some of my innocence, opted to watch Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen with the other grotty hippies in the common room instead. Who is the winner in this sorry tale? You, for not witnessing either.

Bangkok Song of the Day: Emma Bunton - What Took You So Long?
This breezy classic came over like a dream whilst sitting in a taxi on my way to Siam Square

i-Pod Song of the Day: Phoenix - Lisztomania
I know, I know. This IS up beat for me

Sunday 22 November 2009

Hand on Chang is the only way to land...

Hi. Krishnendu here. I promised a few of you that I'd start my own blog charting my sorry demise over the next eight months of travelling around the globe. You'll be happy to hear that I've landed safe and sound in Bangkok, Thailand. It took me almost 10 minutes to spy my first lady boy from the relative safety of my air conditioned hot pink taxi. Said lady boy was ugly and on a mission to hunt down an old European man, and thankfully, not me fresh off the plane.

I shared my taxi with a kiwi girl whom I met in the taxi queue (true story). Funnily enough, she had just quit her job as a waitress at Carluccios, the very same Carluccios that I used to frequent at lunch / 4pm Diet Coke break in Covent Garden. Apparently they have decided to stop the free lemon oil and bruschetta dip that they had on display in the deli as it is now out of season. For those at my old work, take note.

Today is day two of my travel odyssey - and I'm still not bored of my own company. Who knew that I could be so entertaining with an icy bottle of Chang in my hand (that stuff is potent for a little guy like me, 7%). This morning I had a little tour of the weekend market at Chatuchak, following a cool ride on the ultra-modern Sky Train - which was a bit like the monorail from The Simpsons, the one with the monorail song which was well heavy. The market is a little overwhelming to be honest, too much stuff going on and all I wanted was a red vest, which I couldn't find. The image that has stayed with me from the trip was a mannequin outside a drinks stall with a smiling pigs head. It still haunts me.

All for now you'll be pleased to hear, tonight I'll look forward to watching some football at the Gulliver's Travel's Tavern on Khao San Road whilst trying to mingle with the crowd. Hopefully they won't see through my fake laughter and smile. Wish me luck.

Song of the day: Taylor Swift - Love Story
It's just a magical pop song which was belting out the radio from a little store near my hotel today.