Koh Ker – Siem Reap (127kms)

We left Koh Ker and said goodbye to the bike tour who we had been shadowing for the last few days; they were heading off in a different direction for a night in the jungle. We almost lost Brendon at this moment, who was very tempted when they offered him a position as chef for the rest of the trip, but he reluctantly declined in part because his bike’s chain was badly damaged and  there was little chance of getting it replaced before we reached Siem Reap.  We took it to a roadside mechanic for a dodgy repair which would hopefully get us to Siem Reap, and the mechanic simply welded the damaged link – much to Brendon’s horror.

From Koh Ker we rode for a few hours to reach Beng Mealea, a gorgeous 12th century temple set in the jungle. By this time it was the middle of the day and the heat and light was intense, but I still really enjoyed this beautiful, ruined temple half swallowed by the jungle. We were shown around by a staff member of Apsara Corporation; the organisation set up to protect the temples. The (mostly) women who mind the temples are friendly without being pushy, and do not expect payment, though will gladly accept a tip if offered.  The woman who guided us around Beng Mealea had very little English but she showed us the best spots to clamber over boulders and pointed out the special spots. She also showed us the crater left by an exploded mine which took off her leg.

On the way to Siem Reap, 80kms away, Brendon’s bike chain did what we were afraid of – completely snapped at 80kms/hr!  We’re extremely lucky Brendon was able to control the bike and didn’t come off.  Also lucky to be able to get the broken link taken out and the chain reattached at a village mechanic 200 metres down the road.

Siem Reap was once a sleepy town but certainly is no longer, thanks to its proximity to Angkor Wat. Apparently a million tourists now bypass Phnom Penh and fly directly into Siem Reap each year.  It is choked with tourists, but despite this (because of this?) it’s a fun place to hang out for a few days. We’d booked into a gorgeous hotel with a swimming pool, and spent the next couple of days relaxing by the pool, shopping, eating, getting massages and drinking outstanding long island ice teas at the funky bar next door. After the dirt, sweat and mud of the past weeks, it was glorious.

The ubiquitous fish 'massage' in Siem Reap - note my bruised legs from countless motorbike drops

We spent one day out at some of the various temples that make up Angkor Wat. Angkor Wat complex is mind-bogglingly massive and you would struggle to see it all in a week – but since we were taking in some of the more far flung temples we didn’t want to overdo it and bring on a case of the debilitating and often irreversable ‘temple fatigue’.  I won’t talk too much about Angkor Wat and the hundreds of temples that make up the complex (the pictures can do the talking instead), suffice to say it is a monument to religion on a grand scale. Each mighty God-King of the Khmer empire strove to outdo the other, and the results are spectacular.  As Lonely Planet states, if any one of the less popular of these archaeological treasures was situated in another country they would receive top billing. There is no greater concentration of archaeological treasures in the world.

You can’t take motorbikes into the Angkor complex so we hired a tuk tuk driver for the day. We started at Angkor Wat itself – totally touristy but also beautifully preserved and built on a massive scale (it is believed to be the largest religious monument in the world).

Following that we visited Angkor Thom, including the Bayon which is famous for its 216 serene-looking profiles of the god Avalokiteshvara. Angkor Thom was built by the king Jayavarman VII who ruled from 1181-1219, and the immense head studies apparently bear more than a passing resemblance to him.

Finally we visited Ta Prohm, also known as ‘the Angelina Jolie temple’ for its starring role in Tomb Raider. Ta Prohm has been completely taken over by the jungle and is a stunning temple – though you have to share it with bus loads of Korean tourists.

Korean tourists at Ta Prohm

Siem Reap – Kompong Thom via Preah Khan (approx 160kms)

Back in Siem Reap we had another critical decision to make – take the highway 360kms back to Phnom Penh, or take the ‘scenic’ route along Cambodia’s route 66 to visit Preah Khan, another temple complex lost in the jungle.  This difficult route takes you across about ten 1000 year old bridges which are part of an old Angkorian highway.

Predictably we couldn’t resist the scenic route and ended up on another muddy, remote track through the forest with long stretches where we didn’t see a soul and had little idea if we were travelling in the right direction. We stopped on this ancient bridge (below) for some photos and met these lovely kids.

Eventually we sighted a ruin in the jungle, and we knew we must be close to Preah Khan. Happy moment.  What an amazing thing to suddenly come across an 11th Century ruin after hours of riding, deep in the jungle and miles from any tourist centre.

We soon came to the main part of Preah Khan. A friendly caretaker drew a map of the complex for us in the dirt and we were left completely on our own to discover these amazing temples left deep in the jungle.

Most unfortunately we didn’t have too long to spend at Preah Khan as it was already past lunchtime and we weren’t sure how far we still had to go. We spent an hour or so wandering around the temples completely alone apart from a bunch of kids collecting forest leaves and an older man who happily led us around the large complex.  The whole experience was wonderful and I very reluctantly left to get back on the road.

Not far from the temple we found a town (Ta Seng), filled up with water and petrol and checked our direction. Our destination was Kompong Thom and I was concerned we wouldn’t make it before dark.  I hoped the roads ahead would be in reasonable condition, but instead found heartbreakingly deep sand.

You can't see it but there are about 5 giggling kids hiding behind each woman

Once again we found ourselves in failing light with no idea how far we were from our destination.  After several hours struggling in soft sand and deep ruts, the roads gradually got better the closer we got to National Highway 6. We were still forced to travel quite a few hours in the dark which is always a bit hazardous – I am personally responsible for the messy end to dozens of frogs who jumped from the rice paddies into my path.

A stop for water in a tiny town attracted a crowd

We finally made it to Kompong Thom on the Mekong River well past dinner and found a reasonable hotel and a tasty and friendly restaurant where we drank beer and watched Korean soapies.

Kompong Thom – Phnom Penh (165kms)

From Kompong Thom the next morning was an easy run own a good highway back into Phnom Penh (via Skuon, tarantula capital of Cambodia), where we said goodbye to our trusty motorbikes and also our filthy, stinking boots which were unceremoniously left on the balcony of the hotel.

Deep fried tarantulas at Skuon.

The last few days of this epic trip were spent down south on Koh Rung Samloem, on a pristine island off the coast of Cambodia.  I can highly recommend this island for a few days peaceful relaxation.  It has nothing but a few very simple huts on the beach, some hammocks and a bunch of comfy chairs on the sand. The water was clear and warm, and every night the chef cooked a bbq of fresh barracuda that he’d bought off the fishing boats off the coast. Perfect ending!

During this trip my dad was never far from my mind. When we set off for this trip, it had been less than 2 months since he died from cancer. We almost cancelled the trip but went ahead thanks to my mum’s encouragement.  And I’m glad we did. My dad was a great traveller and world citizen – he instilled in us kids a love of travel, culture, food and languages.  He also taught me and encouraged me to write. Back before travel blogs were popular I moved to China and wrote detailed emails back to my parents about everything I experienced, and this habit of recording my experiences has never left me. My dad saved every email from my China days, and when I got back he informed me I had accumulated 250,000 words. My dad remained my greatest fan over the years and as I write each post he remains my audience in mind. That will never change.

This trip, and these posts, are dedicated to my dad, Neil.

Ban Lung – Stung Treng via Siem Pang (approx 160kms)

We headed north along a good dirt road through beautiful scenery and highland villages to the riverside town of Veun Sai on the Tonle San river and bordering the Virachay National Park. Virachay is one of the largest national parks in Cambodia and is still not fully explored. It is apparently home to clouded leopards, elephants, tigers and sun bears, though of course you’d be pretty lucky to see wildlife such as this. We crossed to the north side via the ferry and unfortunately didn’t have time to explore downstream, where there are ethnic minority villages and burial grounds (Ratanakiri is home to the Jarai, Tompuon, Brau and Kreaung, as well as having large populations of Lao and Chinese). I would have loved to have more time to explore this area and in particular meet and chat with the locals in the villages populated with Cambodians of Chinese descent- apparently entire villages in the area still speak Chinese.

Instead we pushed on – first along a beautiful riverside road shaded by palm trees, passing through idyllic palm-shaded stilt home communities.  After about 10kms we hooked a left and the track immediately disintegrated into a muddy rice field mess. Who would have thought a bit of mud could cause so much difficulty! We ended up stuck in this morass for quite a while, making some progress and then falling over in the mud. In the end Brendon rode my bike through the entire field and I waded through.

EVen Brendon managed to completely bog himself in mud

The road after that improved only slightly. Much like Death Highway, the ‘road’ consisted of a sandy, muddy, rutted track through extremely remote forest. We passed no villages. I must admit, this was another one of my ‘oh, shit’ moments as I had no accurate idea of the conditions ahead or how long this slow and exhausting track would last. By the map I estimated we had about 60kms to go – a huge distance at the rate we were traveling at.

Not far into the forest Dan took a spectacular dive roll off his motorbike and emerged from the grass to find his clutch was broken. Another worrying moment. As always, there was nothing to do but press on and Dan skilfully managed to get through the rest of the day without the use of a clutch. He had to start in gear and then not stop; never stop; no matter what presented itself (mud, river, sand, trees), Dan travelled through it all at a steady 2nd or 3rd gear with no pause.

After several exhausting hours in the forest the track began to improve and we were able to pick up some speed.  Finally in the late afternoon we reached a village on the edge of a wide river (the Tonle Kong). The sound of our big bikes attracted half of the village out of their houses and they all followed us down to the wide river, where they pointed out the shallowest route to ride across the river. That’s right – ride across a big, wide, presumably deep river! Brendon made it across and so Dan reluctantly headed off, despite the absence of a clutch (if he had stalled we would have been in a bit of trouble!). He also made it across. By that time Don had returned to ride my bike across and I walked through the thigh-high water – crossing large deep rivers by motorbike is not really my thing….

Brendan crossing the Tonle Kong

Total confusion reigned whenever we brought out the map....much easier just to get pointed directions to the next town, and the next....

On the other side we entered the town of Siem Pang – awesomely friendly people and purveyors of fine ice coffee by the river.  Unfortunately we had no time to linger as it was already 4pm or so and we still had about 110 kms to travel.  Luckily for us the graded dirt road to the N7 highway was new and smooth. This area is remote and renowned for its rare birds, including giant ibises and endangered vultures.  Despite the looming darkness I really enjoyed this ride – the forest was beautiful in the fading light and the sky was spectacular.

The dirt road meets the paved National Highway 7 at the Laos border. We had no time to stop as it was almost dark and there was still another 50kms to go. By the time we arrived in the Mekong riverside town of Stung Treng we were exhausted and the light had long gone.  Most fortunately we stopped at Riverside Guesthouse, where we met a bunch of other bikers and their two tour leaders who were following a similar trail to us. The tourers (5 or 6 English guys) were pretty surprised to hear we’d travelled the same trails they had, particularly as one of us was (shock, horror) a girl!

We ended up following the same route and meeting up with these guys most evenings for the next 4 or 5 days and so we got to know each other quite well. We particularly became friends with the two tour leaders, Mike the Welshman, a champion dirt biker in Cambodia, and Tommy, a very cool Khmer dirt biker who knew the local trails like no other. We enjoyed many a beer with those guys over the next few days and also got many extremely good tips about the trails ahead.  I consider myself very lucky to have met them as this was the time that the map became quite useless – the roads are being upgraded so quickly that the map was completely out of date.

Brendon and this guy admired each other's tattoos

Stung Treng – Tbeng Meanchey (160kms)

The next day we took a wrong turn looking for the ferry stop and travelled down the river for a blissful 20kms of idyllic rural scenery. After backtracking to the town, we crossed the Mekong and continued travelling west, heading to Tbeng Meanchey.  This was a good new, raised dirt road the whole way, replacing a section that is often impassable due to flooding in the wet season. Tommy and Mike had left us instructions to take a detour onto part of the old track through the forest – this time easy and fun and much more beautiful and interesting than the main road.

After rejoining the main road we stopped to check our map. A friendly man and his daughter waved us over to his little shop so we happily stopped for an an iced coffee. It turned out to be one of those great travel moments – we sat in the shop of possibly the most excitable and friendly Khmer in the whole of Preah Vihear province, trying to communicate in Khmer, French, and English while we all shared coffee and beer and lots of laughter.  Absolutely priceless.

Daughter making ice coffee

Tbeng Meanchey – Koh Ker (approx 180kms)

From Tbeng Meanchey we headed north towards the Thai border. Our destination was Prasat Preah Prihear – a magnificent 10th century temple perched on the border between Thailand and Cambodia. The temple is set on a mountain plateau with a view of Cambodia below. Unfortunately the Thais and the Cambodians have been fighting over ownership of the temple for decades, despite the UN court ruling that it belonged to Cambodia in 1992 (though the main entrance is in Thailand).  The permanently stationed soldiers on both sides periodically decide to start shooting at each other again, and so the temple is often off limits to tourists (in fact just this month fighting has once again broken out, several soldiers and civilians have been killed and thousands of Cambodian villagers have been evacuated).

After riding about 3 hours north on newly graded dirt roads we were extremely disappointed to be stopped at the bottom of the mountain leading up to Prasat Preah Vihear. A few minutes later the other bike crew turned up and Tommy translated for us – absolutely no one was being allowed up the mountain due to an upcoming ASEAN visit to this site (perhaps). No amount of bribes or contacts were going to change the situation.  Terribly disappointing but absolutely uncontrollable. Brendon was made slightly more cheerful when some of the bored soldiers camped at the bottom of the mountain showed him their home made pump action guns, complete with a bike pump for power.

We travelled back down the same road south, heading for Koh Ker temple – capital of the Angkorian empire from 928 – 944. This was once an inaccessible temple surrounded by mines, however recent de-mining by CMAC (Cambodian Mine Action Centre) and better roads have made it somewhat easier to visit in recent times.  When we turned up in the late evening at the only decent guesthouse, set in the rice paddy fields about 5 kms from the ruins, we were the only people there. Later on our familiar bike group turned up and we spent a pleasant evening drinking beer and talking bikes (I tried – I really did).

This guy was one of our hosts at the guesthouse, and this is the scorpion we found on someone's shoe. Later on this guy's wife cooked the scorpion. I'm serious.

At 6am the next morning we got up and made our way down to the ruins. Of course we were the only people there, and it was absolutely magical to spend a few hours in the early morning light wandering around these amazing temples set over an area 9 by 4kms – a magical morning that I will never forget. After visiting the main site, Don and Dan and I made our way slowly back to the guesthouse via the dozens of other temples scattered through the jungle. Each one had a caretaker (sometimes with family) who lived out in the forest to keep an eye on the precious temples.

Main temple at koh Ker

One of the families who camp out at the temples to keep an eye on things

Over the next week we saw many amazing temples, including the world-famous Angkor Wat, but an abandoned Koh Ker at sunrise stays with me as one of my favourite moments on this trip.

I thought I had it timed perfectly – a couple of weeks after the end of the wet season so that the roads were passable, but not too far into the dry season so that its really dusty. What I didn’t know was that we’d coincided our arrival in Phnom Penh exactly with the beginning of Bon Om Tuk (Water Festival)- one of the biggest festivals on the Khmer calendar. During the wet season, so much water flows down the Tonle Sap river it actually changes direction and starts heading back upstream to flood the huge lake above. When the rains stop the water once again starts heading south towards the Mekong delta, and the festival is held to celebrate the event. Hundreds of boats representing different towns and villages descend on Phom Penh, each colourfully decorated and holding 40 rowers, to race along the Tonle Sap. Along with the boat crews come hordes of people taking their annual trip to the city – apparently up to 2 million additional visitors flock into Phnom Penh.

Boat racers in Phnom Penh

Stuck in traffic in a tuk tuk

Don, Dan and Lee - otherwise known as Mr Motorbike rental

First mistake – we didn’t book accommodation weeks in advance. Second mistake was thinking we could travel around the city seeing and doing whatever we wanted.  During the day we didn’t have too many problems but in the evening, thousands of people headed downtown from all over and the roads became clogged with overloaded tuk tuks and motorbikes. The city was literally at a standstill each evening we were in Phnom Penh and any plans to head down to the riverfront were most definitely out.

While in Phnom Penh, apart from checking over our rental bikes and doing last minute organising for the trip, we also visited the two main sites commemorating the dead from the Cambodian revolution of 1975-78, during which the Communist Khmer Rouge implemented extreme agrarian reform (based on Mao Zedong’s revolution in China) and up to 2 million people died – perhaps 1/4 or 1/3 of the population. In January 1979 the Vietnamese ousted the Khmer Rouge, causing the Communists to begin a guerilla warfare campaign that lasted for another 20 years before they finally surrendered in 1998.  It was during this period that almost all of Cambodia’s landmines were laid, a scourge that still causes much destruction in the country.

We visited Tuol Sleng, or S-21, an old high school in Phnom Penh which was turned into a prison and was the scene of torture for thousands. It has now been turned into a museum of genocide. Most of the cells have been left exactly as they were found when the Vietnamese invaded in early 1979, to find 12 prisoners alive. The most chilling part of the exhibition for me were the hundreds of photos of inmates who passed through, almost all of which would have been killed. The Khmer Rouge were excellent record keepers and each inmate was photographed and their details stored. The expressions on these faces are unforgettable – many smiling for the cameras, some defiant, others simply terrified.

From there we went straight to the Killing Fields, about 20kms out of the city. This was where the inmates of Tuol Sleng – men, women and children- were taken to be bludgeoned to death.  The skulls of thousands of victims are piled high in a beautiful shrine. The place is awful and grisly but also peaceful and respectfully done. Visitors are encouraged to light incense or lay a flower for all victims of the Khmer Rouge.

Back in town we hooked up with a couple of VIDA volunteer mates, Martin and Mina, to go out on the town for the night. We started with happy hour cocktails at the Elephant Bar in the sublime Hotel Le Royal, which has been hosting Phnom Penh’s rich and influential for more than 80 years. Martin and Mina had in mind dinner at Khmer restaurant Romdeng, which is set up as an NGO model teaching disadvantaged kids much like KOTO, but we were thwarted by the crazy streets clogged with revellers. Instead we stopped off and had a great Japanese meal in a peaceful courtyard, away from the madness.

The next day we were horrified to wake up and hear about the tragedy that had occurred overnight, where more than 300 people had been killed after panic broke out on an overcrowded bridge over the river. It was hard to get to the bottom of what really happened on the river that night as there were a lot of rumours flying around. Whatever the cause, it’s terrible to think that what started as a wonderful party for the city turned into tragedy so quickly.

Phnom Penh to Kampong Cham (120kms)
Day 1 of the bike trip was an easy ride up National Highway 6 (and then on to 7) to Kampong Cham, a peaceful little town on the banks of the Mekong.  Along the way we stopped frequently for sugarcane juice or strong iced coffee sweetened with condensed milk, and not for the last time were amazed by the honesty of the local people who always laughed and gave our money back when we misunderstood whether we should be paying $3 or 3000 riel.

Taking a break to have some sugar cane juice

Once in Kompong Cham we did what became our routine for the rest of the trip – check into a hotel, wash off the dust and grime of the road, throw on shorts and thongs instead of hot dirty riding gear and find ourselves a cold beer.

I woke up in the middle of the night with the very familiar signs of severe stomach upset and spent much of the rest of the night on the toilet or throwing up.  I consoled myself with the thought that if we were stuck in Kompong Cham tomorrow because I was too sick to ride, there were definitely worse places to be stuck for a day….

Kampong Cham to Kratie (120kms)
I woke up feeling a bit weak and still nauseous but determined to head out to Kratie. This was a beautiful day’s riding along the Mekong on tarmac and dirt, through gorgeous riverside villages and past lush rural scenery.

Cambodian cows look like this....

Not like this

This whole area has a large population of Muslim Cham people – I’ve written about them briefly in another post as they are spread amongst a number of South East Asian countries including central Vietnam.  As we rode along the stunningly pretty winding roads along the river, we passed dozens of school children, the girls all wearing neat hijabs to match their navy and white uniforms.

This day should have been an easy one but I must admit I found it a bit tough and tiring due to feeling generally crap, so I was very pleased to reach Kratie (pronounced Kra-cheh) by mid afternoon. Kratie is another faded colonial town situated by the Mekong, and is the place to see the endangered Irrawaddy dolphins of the Mekong. There are apparently only about 70 of them left. I was in two minds about taking a boat out to see them – World Wildlife Fund states the boat’s engines can disturb them – but in the end I went straight to sleep and when I woke up in the early evening it was too late to head 15kms north to try to spot them.

Instead we hopped back on our motorbikes and rode across the Mekong to check out an old French lighthouse. Derelict for years, it has recently been cleaned up and now you can actually climb up the extremely steep steel ladders to the top. I made it up two flights before fear of heights turned me back – Dan and Don climbed the whole way up and took some gorgeous photos of the view from the top.

Looking down from lighthouse

Coconut and banana treat sold along the river

Kratie – Sen Monorom (210kms)
Today’s ride would take us south down the very fast Highway 7 until we turned off to head east to Mondulkiri province, abutting Vietnam. Mondulkiri is famous for its wildlife, forests, waterfalls and ethnic minority people (the Bunong). Unfortunately it also falls victim to rampant illegal logging. At a tiny town just before Snuol, we turned off Highway 7 early to take a shortcut, 15kms or so on a logging trail through beautiful shady forest. This trail was just bumpy and muddy enough to have Don and Dan extremely happy. I followed at a much slower pace, quietly freaking out inside my helmet every time I had to negotiate the huge puddles of water left on the track.

The road to Mondulkiri - in the background is a sign showing which animals are protected in the forest - including elephants, tigers and bears

These guards are here to protect the forest from illegal loggers - there is so much high-level corruption though that the forests are extremely vulnerable

After rejoining the main road east, we found the whole way had recently been tarmaced, making it an easy trip on smooth roads with no other traffic. The scenery alternated between beautiful forest and denuded hillsides, and once again we found many of the locals were Muslim (at our lunch stop the women casually reached for their colourful sequined head scarves when we arrived and then laughed at Brendon when he asked for a beer).

Cambodian transport

By the time we reached the town of Sen Monorom the temperature had dropped significantly as we were now at 800 metres altitude. We stayed just outside the town on a windswept hillside. Nature Lodge has individual cabins overlooking the mountains, and a very funky central gathering place/restaurant/bar area built amongst and into the trees. The staff were very welcoming and the backpackers friendly, and we made ourselves at home here for 2 nights.

On our day off we took a ride out into the gorgeous forested hills to Bou Sra waterfall, and on the way back stopped for an iced coffee at a friendly Bunong village. It was here that I managed to completely embarrass myself by dropping my bike in the middle of the road going through the village, while 20 village kids and their mothers, previously waving happily to me, looked on. Despite being a really stupid crash (I was distracted, looking at cute piglets, went to put my foot down and fell into a pot hole) this ended up being the one time in the entire trip I actually managed to hurt myself – I grazed my leg and badly bruised my ribs, which gave me trouble for the rest of the trip and beyond.  That night at Nature Lodge the resident Bunong healer/masseuse applied hots rocks from the fire and massage to my bruised body – very nice.

Bou Sraa waterfall

Cute piglets

Sen Monorom has a great restaurant called Khmer Kitchen with friendly staff and wonderful food.  We appreciated the company and advice of the owner, who doubles as a guide. Below is their fantastic Trey Amok (Cambodian fish curry topped with coconut cream).

It was at Khmer Kitchen that we got talking about the next day’s ride. The first part of the day was to be a good dirt road, followed by 60kms of one of the most notoriously difficult and often impassable roads of Cambodia – nicknamed “Death Highway” by bikers. Highway is a seriously misleading name, as in reality it is just an ox-cart track through the forest – or to be precise, many ox-cart tracks through the forest – the major problem being how to choose the correct track one. In hindsight it was a bit reckless of me, as a relative newcomer to dirt biking, to attempt this extremely challenging track.  I justified it to myself with the thought that I could leave early and take my time, and perhaps hire a Khmer moto-guide for this section to avoid getting lost in the forest. Most importantly, this is the only road between the two beautiful provinces of Mondulkiri and Ratanikiri, to travel between them any other way would have required a huge detour of hundreds of kilometres.

So I talked myself into the idea it would be challenging, but definitely do-able.  And our new friend at Khmer Kitchen and a couple of older European bikers who overheard us talking and had just come through this route, confirmed this view.  We were told that by following tire tracks and the advice of locals we would make it through. This turned out to be correct – we did make it through (with some signficant wrong-ways) – but their nonchalance probably left me feeling more relaxed about the next day’s ride than I should have been…..

Sen Monorom- Ban Lung (191kms)
We did leave early, as planned, and took along lots of water and snacks. We made good time along the good graded dirt road between Sen Monorom and Koh Nhek, through beautiful jungle full of amazing butterflies and flowers.  At tiny Koh Nhek we stopped and re-fuelled with instant noodles and iced coffee for us and petrol for the bikes.

Delicous coconut-pumpkin snack wrapped in banana leaves

From there the road disintegrated into a muddy, sandy, rutted mess of ox-cart tracks through forest and grasslands, interspersed with tiny settlements of stilt homes. 15kms into this I had dropped my bike 3 times already, was exhausted and had drank most of the water we’d brought. Dan and Don were faring a whole lot better than me but we were all hot and tired (they were in charge of rushing back to pick up my bike whenever I dropped it). This went on for another unrelenting 45kms, plus an additional 10kms of wrong directions.

Our destination was the Srepok river, which, incidentally, was the setting of one of my all time favourite movies, Apocalypse Now. In this Vietnam anti-war movie, Captain Willard (Martin Sheen) goes upriver in Cambodia to find Colonel Kurtz (Marlon Brando), who has gone a bit feral and commandeered an army of Montagnards – mountain people- to fight his own private war.

The villagers who live along this remote stretch of ‘road’, evidently forgotten by their Government, were always (as everywhere in Cambodia) happy to see us and helpfully pointed us in the right direction. Sometimes it was an hour or so between sightings of people, and with the many paths to choose from I was always nervous until we found the next person to help us. Amazingly, plenty of Cambodians do this trip on their little 100cc Honda Dreams, perhaps with the wife and mother-in-law perched on the back. They occasionally cruised past us on their little bikes, seemingly gliding over the sand and the mud through which I and my powerful bike struggled with.

Ox carts are the only transport that can manage these tracks in the wet season

There are no towns along 'Death Highway" except for these tiny settlements

Night falls early and quickly in Cambodia, and we were still stuck in the forest as the sun’s rays grew low.  Before long it was completely dark, our drinking water was gone and Brendon was onto his reserve tank of fuel.  We just plowed on – what else can you do? – but moods were pretty low when we hadn’t been able to confirm our direction for more than an hour and there had been several cross roads where we guessed the correct direction by studying tire marks in the dark. Naturally we were overjoyed when we came across a young Khmer guy on an ox-cart, who confirmed we were still heading in the right direction.

Not long after that we came upon a man running towards us with a torch, and I just knew we this must be the man who would take us across the Srepok river. Sure enough, he and his shy teenage son quickly got us and our bikes loaded on the tiny wooden barge and safely across the river in the pitch black of a Cambodian night (so little electricity is used in the Cambodian countryside it is extremely dark). In my relief I wanted to hug them both but showed my appreciation by  grossly overpaying them instead.

On the other side, at the tiny town of Lumphat (which, incidentally, used to be the provincial capital until American bombs completely destroyed it during the Vietnam War), the general store opened up to sell us water and petrol. From there it was another 40kms and an hour’s travel to our destination, the red dust town of Ban Lung. After a shower, a small meal and one or two beers, we were so completely exhausted we went straight to bed.

Next day was a rest day and we spent it swimming and lying by the beautiful and peaceful Boeng Yeak Lom  – a perfectly round crater lake set amongst the jungle of Ratanikiri and sacred to the local ethnic tribes. Absolutely there is no better way to wash away the ingrained dirt, grime and stress of the previous day’s ride than this warm, clear, stunning swimming spot in the company of the happy and friendly Khmers who also visited.

Chaa Ong waterfall, Ratanikiri province

That night we once again met up with Martin, who with his young Khmer colleague Rasmey told us about the work they were doing with the  tribal people of Ratanakiri province. These people are rapidly being displaced by land speculators buying up huge tracts of the still-undeveloped region.  Martin and Rasmey were providing camcorders and training in how to use them to a number of the local people in an effort to record the story from their perspective.

We also discussed the next day’s route – the main road, which I knew to be good (but boring) dirt the whole way; or the scenic route, which I knew nothing about…..

My last weeks were a blur of shopping, partying, farewells and tailoring. Despite having a lot of work to get through in the office, each lunch time the girls in my office, Vinh and Ngoc, took me out on extended shopping trips to pick up last minute bargains and visit my various tailors (one for darning, one for alterations, one for suits, one for women’s clothing).

On one work day Vinh and her husband Kien put on a fantastic long lunch for me and Brendon, as well as Soan and Ngoc from our office. We all got tipsy in the middle of the day on whisky and wine – it was lovely. As well as helping me source the best and cheapest of Hanoi souvenirs and made-for-export clothes and shoes in my final weeks, the girls bought me a lovely lacquered tray as a farewell present; and Ngoc gave me a wonderful painting done by her sister, a Hanoi artist.

Without a doubt, spending a year working with Soan, Ngoc, Vinh (and Hanh until she left) in the the Rural Water Supply and Sanitation Partnership has been a huge highlight for me. I will miss the interesting work and the collaborative atmosphere; as well as the afternoon breaks where we’d eat a vast array of tropical fruits, drink tea and discuss people, countries and culture.

In my final week Brendon and I hosted a long-overdue dinner for some deserving friends; dining on three cheese pasta and kangaroo steaks.  Brendon and I also ate at one of Hanoi’s finest restaurants – La Verticale. La Verticale is famous for wonderful French-Vietnamese fusion cooking by long-term Vietnamese resident and French chef, Didier Corlou.  We had the tasting menu with two entrees, two mains, cheese and dessert. It was divine. We were both particularly impressed with an amazing buffalo dish. I’ve eaten buffalo a few times in Vietnam and it is generally a tough version of a cow, but this was perfectly cooked and amazingly tender.

As befitting such a lovely venue, I wore a little black dress and heels and Brendon took his vintage Vespa; requiring me to perch side-saddle. As we zoomed through the city on another balmy Hanoi night, past the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, the old Hanoi citadel walls with its pock-marked surface (a legacy of American bombing) and into the French district; arms around my darling husband, I thought to myself – this is one of those perfect Hanoi moments.

We booked out the rooftop bar on our building for our farewell party, and put on finger food and keg beer. Our Vietnamese friends turned up early, brought presents and drank lots of beer. Our expat friends turned up later, and drank even more beer. The manager of the bar politely kicked us out at 3am (oh so late for Hanoi!!) and a few stragglers continued on three flights down in our apartment. We watched the sun rise over West Lake that morning from our 16th floor apartment.

My last afternoon in Hanoi was spent driving around the Old Quarter, completely yet happily lost (after all this time!), soaking up the particular charm of Hanoi’s oldest district. Women in conical hats selling bunches of colourful flowers from huge bunches on the backs of bicycles, workers enjoying noodles under ancient city walls, young Vietnamese drinking tra chanh (iced lemon tea) on plastic stools, old men crouched over games of checkers….. the Old Quarter is a visual feast and surely one of the most interesting places to be lost.

That evening Brendon and I and a couple of friends ate a cheap and cheerful meal at a busy downtown bia hoi . Thirteen months ago, on our second night in Hanoi, we’d found ourselves at this very bia hoi after an afternoon of wandering around lost in the Old Quarter. I still remember how, crouched on low plastic stools, we were introduced to the joys of cheap, cold bia hoi (fresh, preservative-free beer). I got quite tipsy and decided that Hanoi and I would get on just fine.

It felt fitting to spend my last night in Hanoi at this same happy spot.  This time around we found ourselves drinking with a couple of Chinese tourists (father and daughter team) from Qingdao, which is not far from our old hometown of Dalian. We chatted in Chinese and discussed the differences between Vietnam and China…not altogether surprisingly, the father thought Hanoi was noisy and dirty, and Vietnamese food was “zhen bu haochi!” (not delicious!) His daughter was more open-minded and envied our year in Hanoi.

I can see both of their points of view….Hanoi is noisy and I’m not too sad to be leaving behind some of its less endearing features…..stifling heat and ever-present humidity, immense traffic jams, ceaseless noise and air pollution would all fit into this category. I’m also not altogether unhappy to be walking away from some of the more intractable problems associated with my job in the Vietnamese Government.  But I feel very, very lucky to have spent a year in this beautiful and interesting country. I worked hard, learnt lots and hopefully contributed something to water and sanitation goals in Vietnam. I had some amazing holidays, many of them on a motorbike – surely one of the best ways to travel in Asia.  I ate and drank far more than my fair share of excellent food and drink – from cheap street eats to fine-dining and everything in between. I made some amazing friends, both expat and Vietnamese, many of whom I hope I to remain friends with in the future.  These things I will certainly miss.

Farewell Hanoi! I hope to see you again sometime soon!

I was hopeful that the road would be completed before we left, so a couple of months ago we were dismayed to see work suddenly halted. Perhaps the money had run out? A dodgy construction firm had bankrupted itself and disappeared? I had no idea until I read about it on the front page of Vietnam News recently:

“Construction of the contentious new road linking Van Cao Street and West Lake has been halted following the unearthing of 1,000-old Ly-Tran and Le dynasty artifacts on Hoang Hoa Tham Street. Archeologists said the new road, which engineers were aiming to complete in time for celebrations of the 1,000^th anniversary of Thang Long-Hanoi, ploughed through parts of the old citadel wall which contained priceless artifacts dating back to the dynasties of Nguyen (1802-1945), Le (1428-1788), Tran (1225-1400) and Ly (1010-1225).”

The article goes on to say that the Hanoi Cultural Department admits “if we dig up any land underneath our feet, we’ll find layers of cultural remains”.  Meanwhile the Vietnamese Historical Science Association gently criticizes the government by noting “if Hanoi had an archaeological plan, the tragedy that has taken place along Hoang Hoa Tham street would never have happened.” Apparently the Institute of Archaeology drew up a detailed map of the city’s ancient sites in 2002, however, the project was never officially approved.

Incidents such as these are a reminder of the ancient city we are living in. It was 1010 A.D when King Ly Thai To, the founder of the Ly dynasty, transferred the old capital at Hoa Lu to Thang Long (Ascending Dragon), now called Hanoi.  Hanoi has been holding celebrations all year and the city is getting a major makeover in time for the main celebration in October.  I’m not entirely sure what the government has planned for 10/10/2010, but I imagine it will involve fireworks and whatever it is, I’m certain it will include major gridlock/traffic jams!

By the way, the migrant worker construction crews camped out on Hoang Hoa Tham street are now well and truly back at work! I may yet see the new road finished before I leave.

Halfway along the 3km motorbike trip to the office I hit flooded roads. They weren’t impassable though and I so I drove for about half a kilometre through water.

Once I turned onto the main road, Lieu Giai street, I realised I was in a bit of trouble. The water was past my knees and rising so I turned off the motorbike and wrestled it onto the submerged footpath. I found a café and thought I’d wait out the rain there.

The café owners (husband, wife, two adult kids) and I sat inside their little shop and watched the flood waters rise outside. Every time a four-wheel drive went past we’d rush to the door to hold it shut against the huge wave the cars created. The motorbikes outside slowly submerged until we eventually brought them all inside to prevent them washing away.

This is what would happen every time a four-wheel drive would come tearing past the café

The aftermath of a four-wheel drive-by

After the water rose past our ankles inside the shop (which was the ground floor of their home) we gave up trying to mop it up and just waited. The family gave me hot coffee and we amused ourselves watching the rain and the passing parade of people trying to get through the streets.

These plastic pipes came floating by and made us all laugh... pretty bored by that stage

What made this guy decide to transport his altar on this morning?

Appropriate fashion for a flood

About 11am the rain stopped and I left the café.  Pushing my bike, I waded down the street until I ran into Matt, a fellow volunteer mate, who informed me I was definitely heading the wrong way.  So back I went through knee-high water, past flooded cars, until I reached dry land.

The middle of a large intersection had become a big car park and everywhere entrepreneurial sorts were out with their tools, attempting to get bikes started again for 20,000 dong (a bit more than $1).

This major intersection became a car park for people to inspect the damage to themselves and bikes and try to get started again

Unfortunately mine was a difficult case and so I was pointed further up the road to a garage. The team of mechanics there were cheerfully working their asses off to get dozens of bikes moving again. It took my mechanic about 45 minutes to get the bike started again, but when he finally did and I was so happy I tipped him generously (big surprise to him).

At this stage I was still thinking I’d make it to work (it was past lunch by now), but 50 metres down the road I encountered deep water again and, as my bike still wasn’t running well I admitted defeat and turned for home. 50 metres in the other direction the bike died again and I was faced with walking home through more flooded streets. After another stop at a roadside tea seller-cum-mechanic, I finally got the bike going and reached home about 2pm – more than 5 hours after setting off on the 3kms ride to work.

Mia da being prepared

I find mia da a little too sweet for my taste, but add some lime and vodka or cuban rum and you have a perfect summer cocktail!

Ingredients: 2 limes, measure of vodka (or rum), ice, sugar cane juice

The finished product

With this extremely hot weather its hard to stomach a bowl of steaming noodle soup for lunch so my new favourites are cool noodle dishes. Mi Quang is a dish originally from the centre of Vietnam, but right near my work there’s a lady who does an awesome version. Thick flat noodles are served with marinated pork, half a marinated duck egg, one prawn, crushed peanuts and vegetables (usually Vietnamese basil, coriander, sliced banana flower, lettuce and bean sprouts). A couple of spoonfuls of broth topped with lime and chilli work as a sauce.

I love the restraint of Vietnamese cooking (no doubt born out of necessity). One prawn and half an egg. I can’t help thinking if this was served in Australia, we’d be thinking; “one prawn good, 3 prawns better!” But once you get used to savouring your half a very tasty duck’s egg, it is really satisfying.

I eat this dish at least once a week and have become a valued customer of the My Quang lady. I always have a glass of Tra Da (iced tea) as well, purchased from the tea and drinks stall stationed right next door (noodle stalls always seem to have a drinks stall attached in a kind of a mutually beneficial, symbiotic relationship).

Cost of my favourite summer lunch: My Quang: 15,000vnd or less than $1; Tra Da: 2,000 (around 15c).

Knowing the Vietnamese penchant for an early lunch we were expecting the guests to sooner rather than later. Still, I was a little surprised to hear the doorbell ring as I got out of the shower, at 9.15am! The house was quickly taken over by 15 excited students and loud Vietnamese pop music.

Actually their timing turned out to be very good as we had a lot of cooking still to do and now we had 15 trainee chefs  help -  Brendon and I just had to stand back and direct the traffic. At 11am Ms Thu, Brendon’s assistant trainer, turned up with bags full of fruit and dessert.

Lunch was pretty eclectic – guacamole and vegetable sticks, beef kofta and yoghurt saffron dip, fresh prawn and pork spring rolls, chicken and vegetable stir-fry noodles, pasta salad with roast vegetables, and boiled prawns and home-made thousand island dressing. The good thing about KOTO kids is they are pretty used to eating all sorts of different foods so they’re not fussy.

Actually the students were wonderful guests, very helpful and polite and they cleaned up as they went along.  Especially the girls – I’d hire them in an instant if I were a restaurant owner! Much like Vietnamese society in general, the girls at KOTO seem to work much harder than the boys…..

By 1.30pm they had the house spotless again and they headed off to Thu’s place to watch movies.

Thu showing us how to make her special fresh spring rolls

We traveled down to Hoi An with Jono and Meryl for an extended weekend away. I wasn’t sure if I’d love or hate Hoi An, I’d heard it is a bit of a tourist trap and I wondered how I’d cope with the hard-sell tactics of a thousand vendors and tailors. But I quite liked Hoi An and the locals we met were very nice.

We stayed in what was perhaps one of the friendliest hotels I’ve been to – the Phuoc An if you are ever in the area. For $20 a night we got a double room, free bike hire, a pool, cooked breakfast and the loveliest, friendliest and most helpful staff ever. Don’t eat at the restaurant though (except for the free breakfast) as just next door is a much better one. Café 49 is a very unpretentious place, unlike the very trendy restaurants of Hoi An  old town, but the food is great, the family who run it are lovely, and the beer is 3000 dong a glass (that’s about 20c).

Down the street from our hotel was the old town of Hoi An, which by day was hot and sunny, but by night is romantic and charming, all lit up with colourful lanterns. It’s a great place to wander around as motorbikes and cars are banned in the evenings and so all the local kids come outside to play (they can’t do that in Hanoi!)  More than 800 historical houses have been preserved, and the old town has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage area.  As the town used to be an important trading town, there is a lot of outside influence, particularly Chinese and Japanese. The Chinese Assembly Halls still stand, each one devoted to a particular region of China (we passed the Fujian, Hainan, and Cantonese congregations). The halls are apparently still used as meeting places for Vietnam’s ethnic Chinese populations in the south.

Hoi An is, of course, the tailoring capital of Vietnam and so we all had some things made – leather sandals and a corduroy jacket for me, some very nice shirts for Brendon, and Jono and Meryl got the works – a suit, shirts, shoes and dresses.

The closest beach is about 5 kms away, part of what used to be called China Beach by the Americans in the war. Up near Danang is My Khe beach, and further down at Hoi An it’s called Cua Dai.  Cua Dai is very pretty and lined with nice restaurants and deck chairs for hire.  We spent an enjoyable evening out at the more rustic An Bong beach with an old chef friend from Hanoi (who now works in Hoi An), enjoying the seafood and hospitality at a friendly family run place.  Our waiter/host was a lovely, funny 11-year-old kid who made a big impression on us. Unfortunately we learned he doesn’t go to school at all. He spoke pretty rudimentary English but was obviously learning very fast – no doubt in part thanks to some of the expats in the area who fund English lessons for him.

As always Brendon and I couldn’t resist hiring some motorbikes to head out in the countryside. On one day we visited My Son, the site of an impressive bunch of Cham ruins. The Cham are an ethnic group that built an impressive kingdom, sandwiched between the Vietnamese and the Khmers in the centre of Vietnam between the 2nd – 15th Centuries.

Lonely Planet notes that they were semi-piratical, conducting attacks on boats off the coast of Vietnam as they didn’t have enough land for agriculture. It’s no surprise then to hear that they were almost always at war with their neighbours. In the 12th Century they managed to escape Khmer control but by the 17th Century they were entirely overtaken by the Vietnamese.

My Son was an important religious site for the Cham between the 3rd and the 14th Centuries.  The artwork decorating the monuments at My Son is particularly interesting as the Cham were heavily influenced by Indian traders, adopting Hinduism and using Sanskrit as a religious language.

The Cham are still a major ethnic minority group in the region, numbering about 100,000 people. Today’s Cham are mainly Muslim, with about 20% still practicing Hinduism.

The 55 kilometre trip out to the ruins is through beautiful countryside with all those stereotypical Vietnamese sights – rice paddies, banana trees, women with conical hats, buffaloes and kids.  The ruins themselves are set in a lush jungle valley with pretty streams and overlooked by Cat’s Tooth Mountain. This whole area of Vietnam was heavily bombed during the war (it’s not far south of the demilitarized zone), and My Son was not spared. Many of the ruins were reduced to, well, ruins, and the restoration work continues today. Visitors are warned not to stray too far off the path as the area still has a lot of unexploded ordinances.  We visited My Son late in the day and it was ridiculously hot but very quiet, beautiful and atmospheric.

Below I’ve pasted a couple of internet shots of Hoi An and My Son – I accidentally left my camera at home for this trip so these are not mine!

It was a very happy, emotional  event for the graduating students and their families.  The students are a little less subdued than I remember from my graduating ceremony- instead of handshakes the trainers were just as likely to get hugs.  I was not the only one with tears in my eyes….

Below are some pictures I took at the event, however there was a professional photographer who took some much better photos which are now on the KOTO website. I really recommend you look at them if you have the time as they’re lovely pictures.