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The Auvergne version of wall street bull
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And the difference between shopping at Woolies and a town market in the west of Paris
Dona Ferentes
A little bit OC⚡DC
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bien sûr, even Monoprix was exciting
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Indeed, we went to Auchan, a small Carrefour style supermarket, the wine and spirits area was a few 100s sqr meter, 2 aisles were just for refrigerated cheeses..on top of the delicatessen stand
A whole aisle of yogurts
And did i mention the bread, patisseries...
I will try to take a picture of the bakery cakes..posh parisian suburbs expensive top of the top bakeries and individual eclairs, tarts and you name it fancy individual cakes are all below 3 euro or $5 aud..and i can not get a defrosted blueberry muffin for that price at home
My better half was taking pictures of a fishmonger market stand, i will try to send further pictures.it is like a painting of cornucopia
Almond paste art:
Dona Ferentes
A little bit OC⚡DC
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1981 -86 ... For the next travel stories, I got paid !! I scored a job as a field assistant for a 5-week summer program in SW Tasmania. We flew in a Cessna from Devonport on a blue sky day, past Cradle Mtn, across the Central Highlands, past Frenchmans Cap, to a bush strip that isn't on any maps; it is carved out of the buttongrass plain, a white gash of quartzite against the grey-greens, within the SW Conservation area and a few km in from Low Rocky Point, so about half way between Macquarie Harbour and Port Davey. This was our base, and we were doing grid traverses, bush bashing with a machete, looking for ultramafic rock outcrops plus collecting soil and chip samples, every 100m. But only on mining leases, and that involved helicopter work - a team would fly out in the morning, trudge through the bush all day and get collected in the afternoon. A couple of stories will suffice. We flew in an Ecureuil (Squirrel) chopper and it was fun, versatile and responsive but when replaced by a Jet Ranger, the pilot turned to us and said "Handles like a truck"; he was right. We had Sundays off, and nothing to do, so once a group of us cut across to a track and went to Low Rocky Point. Lo and behold, a cray boat was putting out pots. We were surprised, they were surprised, and so they came ashore in their dinghy. Second surprise; it was my mate I went to South Africa with. And another Sunday, as the pilot had been adding 2 minutes twice a day on his logs so we had 40 minutes 'free' fuel to explore. We went for a chopper ride and followed the Franklin River down the gorges. Magnificent wilderness, and very special. We flew over some rafters doing a descent of the rapids and they shook their fists at us; we must have disturbed their commune with nature. Two days later, our chopper was called in to medivac them when their trip came to grief.
I moved to Melbourne but work was hard to find. The eighties resource boom was kicking off and I took a punt by flying to Brisbane, scoring a job with a geophysical logging outfit, and was trained on various downhole sondes that measure resistivity, porosity, density, dips and other downhole data, working with radioactive - neutron-neutron and Cs137 - sources. The sondes and cable, winch, equipment to record the signals (stored on cassettes!!) was all mounted in the back of a 4WD F250 or a F350 with a V8. And the work? Mainly coal exploration, twelve days out and 9 home. From the Brisbane base, I flew to Emerald, Rockhampton, Mackay, then drove to sites, staying either at motels or camps in dongas, doing exploration in the Bowen Basin at Baralaba, Blackwater, Middlemount, Theodore, Clermont, Dysart, Moranbah, plus Chinchilla and near Dalby over the years. I returned to Melbourne in my weeks off, and the company started giving me work in Victoria, at Warragul and Gelliondale for brown coal, across the Murray Basin from Echuca to Edenhope looking for anything; I also had a trip the Fingal valley in Tassie, and memorable trip to SA's Arckaringa Basin, between Coober Pedy and Oodnadatta, spending time following a rig around the Painted Desert. Late 1982, I was given the option of Collie, Rocky or Newie, so we moved to Newcastle. Work was mainly day trips to the Hunter Valley, plus Gunnedah and Ulan out west and in the Sydney Basin near Wilton where drillholes could be 900m deep. As well, I did one trip to Collie and the Margaret River area. Our slimline tools were suitable for shallow oil and gas work, down to 1500m, drilled by smaller rigs, and I had trips to Bass Strait, New Zealand and PNG. I visited NZ twice, to Hawera in Taranaki and at Greymouth on the west coast of the South Island; both trips were more standby than work. The PNG work was in the Highlands, from Port Moresby to Mendi then Tari and a helicopter to the Star Mountains. Deep in the rainforest, a crew had been winched down with chainsaws to clear the top of a hill. A D7 dozer followed, clearing and flattening the hilltop, then the rig was heliported in, as were dongas and all other supplies. Nothing was easy and my week on site was on standby as the drill was stuck. But on crewchange, with a VIP on board, we detoured, heading West to view the Hindenburg Wall through the mist, before heading home.
On the domestic front, we had two children, born in Newcastle, and my partner became interested in Indochina. She made a trip to Vietnam and Cambodia in 1984 and was involved with refugees and aid programs. By 1985, several Australian NGOs had expressed a desire to have a permanent office in the region, she applied and was selected as representative. In August 1986 after a lengthy period, visas came through, I resigned my job and we headed for Phnom Penh with 2 kids, a son aged 3 and the daughter just 9 months old. And I had developed an interest in shares, making purchases in BHP, Brambles, Boral and Pacific Dunlop prior to leaving.
I moved to Melbourne but work was hard to find. The eighties resource boom was kicking off and I took a punt by flying to Brisbane, scoring a job with a geophysical logging outfit, and was trained on various downhole sondes that measure resistivity, porosity, density, dips and other downhole data, working with radioactive - neutron-neutron and Cs137 - sources. The sondes and cable, winch, equipment to record the signals (stored on cassettes!!) was all mounted in the back of a 4WD F250 or a F350 with a V8. And the work? Mainly coal exploration, twelve days out and 9 home. From the Brisbane base, I flew to Emerald, Rockhampton, Mackay, then drove to sites, staying either at motels or camps in dongas, doing exploration in the Bowen Basin at Baralaba, Blackwater, Middlemount, Theodore, Clermont, Dysart, Moranbah, plus Chinchilla and near Dalby over the years. I returned to Melbourne in my weeks off, and the company started giving me work in Victoria, at Warragul and Gelliondale for brown coal, across the Murray Basin from Echuca to Edenhope looking for anything; I also had a trip the Fingal valley in Tassie, and memorable trip to SA's Arckaringa Basin, between Coober Pedy and Oodnadatta, spending time following a rig around the Painted Desert. Late 1982, I was given the option of Collie, Rocky or Newie, so we moved to Newcastle. Work was mainly day trips to the Hunter Valley, plus Gunnedah and Ulan out west and in the Sydney Basin near Wilton where drillholes could be 900m deep. As well, I did one trip to Collie and the Margaret River area. Our slimline tools were suitable for shallow oil and gas work, down to 1500m, drilled by smaller rigs, and I had trips to Bass Strait, New Zealand and PNG. I visited NZ twice, to Hawera in Taranaki and at Greymouth on the west coast of the South Island; both trips were more standby than work. The PNG work was in the Highlands, from Port Moresby to Mendi then Tari and a helicopter to the Star Mountains. Deep in the rainforest, a crew had been winched down with chainsaws to clear the top of a hill. A D7 dozer followed, clearing and flattening the hilltop, then the rig was heliported in, as were dongas and all other supplies. Nothing was easy and my week on site was on standby as the drill was stuck. But on crewchange, with a VIP on board, we detoured, heading West to view the Hindenburg Wall through the mist, before heading home.
On the domestic front, we had two children, born in Newcastle, and my partner became interested in Indochina. She made a trip to Vietnam and Cambodia in 1984 and was involved with refugees and aid programs. By 1985, several Australian NGOs had expressed a desire to have a permanent office in the region, she applied and was selected as representative. In August 1986 after a lengthy period, visas came through, I resigned my job and we headed for Phnom Penh with 2 kids, a son aged 3 and the daughter just 9 months old. And I had developed an interest in shares, making purchases in BHP, Brambles, Boral and Pacific Dunlop prior to leaving.
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More market pictures
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I am a non smoker but at the corner shop newsagent, Paris suburbs
5 cigars for 22 euros
So 5 cigars for half the price of an Australian cigarette packet
.......
5 cigars for 22 euros
So 5 cigars for half the price of an Australian cigarette packet
.......
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Pataya beach this morning, hot and sweaty.
Plenty of para sailers out and about.
Plenty of para sailers out and about.
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Venice beach, ..in Italy
le lido this afternoon .Off season, the private beaches are closed and only a madmax like area is open
The public free beach
Just opposite Venice main island, an interesting place full of last century former glory where you could imagine american and European poets. And writers meeting and sharing ideas in glorious hotel and pensions..
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For a more classic Venice view
And one Cornetto and 2 coffees for 23 euros on st marco plazza..but PMs have been good for the accounts
I could add hundreds of pictures of art, architecture and design plus food shots..even another market picture but time to go to a concert
Ahh the city of Casanova...
And one Cornetto and 2 coffees for 23 euros on st marco plazza..but PMs have been good for the accounts
I could add hundreds of pictures of art, architecture and design plus food shots..even another market picture but time to go to a concert
Ahh the city of Casanova...
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Firenze now: Florence
Easy train ride from Venice
Not as clean or friendly, much busier and overall not as pleasant as Venice for me.
Rainy weather not helping.but food is superb in small trattorias away from tourist traps
Visit of the Uffizi and an overload of roman sculptures and paintings from 12th to even some contemporary
I somewhat wonder at the usefulness of gathering so many masterpieces together.
Is there a synergy or the opposite?
A few random shots
Easy train ride from Venice
Not as clean or friendly, much busier and overall not as pleasant as Venice for me.
Rainy weather not helping.but food is superb in small trattorias away from tourist traps
Visit of the Uffizi and an overload of roman sculptures and paintings from 12th to even some contemporary
I somewhat wonder at the usefulness of gathering so many masterpieces together.
Is there a synergy or the opposite?
A few random shots
Attachments
wayneL
VIVA LA LIBERTAD, CARAJO!
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Addendum to my comments in the lotto thread. Yep I I would travel Europe and so can soak in all this culture before it is destroyed.
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Italy, probably due to the strength of Christianity is clearly more preserved than Spain France or northern Europe.
Less muslim invasion, more own culture preservation, less EU cartels influences and regulations weight.
Their former colourful PMs played a part in their safeguard IMHO
Dona Ferentes
A little bit OC⚡DC
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Kampuchea 1986 - 1991 ; Cambodia 1992 - 1993
Sept 1986: Our first stop was Bangkok, and our passports were sent to Vientiane for visas that had been approved but needed issuing. For Westerners, in the mid 1980's, there was only one way to enter what was then callethe Peoples Republic of Kampuchea and that was by the weekly Red Cross charter flight in an Antonov-24 piloted by Russians. It flew from Ho Chi Minh City, formerly Saigon, over the Mekong plain, where bomb craters from B52 runs were clearly visible over much of the land. The flight was timed to connect with the Paris - BKK - SGN service run by Air France, but there was usually an indeterminate wait in the transit lounge. At the time the PRK was in the socialist bloc, 'fraternal friendships' with Vietnam, the Soviet Union and assorted satellite countries. There was a significant Eastern bloc presence, of Russians, East Germans, Czechs, Cubans rebuilding the country after the ravages of the 1970s that culminated in the disastrous Pol Pot regime. Apart from an Indian diplomatic presence, no western nation recognised the government, the UN had a few technical agencies on the ground, WHO, WFP and Unicef, and ICRC, the Red Cross, was there, plus international NGOs had maybe 50 people in Phnom Penh.
With about a dozen others, we arrived on Thursday afternoon and were met by our liaison from the Agriculture dept. Pochentong airport is about 6 km east of the city centre and we drove in on empty streets. It was the end of the rainy season and very humid. We stayed the first week in the Monorom Hotel where single people were assigned; there were a couple of soldiers with AK47s at the entrance. The other memory was how quiet Monivong Boulevarde, the main street, was; it was busy but, as bicycles were the only traffic, everyone glided by in silence. There was a bullet hole in the window of our room. When a place became available, we moved to the Hotel Samakki, formerly Le Royal, then Le Phnom and once the grandest of colonial hotels, on spacious grounds just down from Wat Phnom and opposite the Cercle Sportif. Abandoned during the Khmer Rouge years, it had seen better days. There were about a dozen bungalows around a swimming pool and we were assigned a two-bedroom one, to be the office and residence. Our neighbours were families, aid workers and spouses plus children, probably a dozen in all. The pool was turgid green but our kids had space to play in the grounds. Armed guards were on the gate and, best of all, there was a generator that could start up when the power went off. We took on a maid, a widow who lived nearby, and this allowed me to pursue short-term contract work.
Phnom Penh in 1986 bore the marks of fifteen years of war, refugees, evacuation, neglect and painful reestablishment. Whole sections of town were blocked off, the Army HQ was near the centre of town and had requisitioned street after street. The Vietnamese forces occupied nearly an entire suburb. It had been more than seven years since the Khmer Rouge had been ousted but the country was still isolated, under sanctions and very much a pawn of geopolitical posturing. Electricity was sporadic, there was a curfew from 9pm to 6am, vehicular traffic was minimal, with some trucks, the occasional aid car, cyclo-pousses (trishaws with passenger in front), some bicycles. Private cars and even motorbikes were noticeably absent. In the surrounding areas, the housing stock was generally unrepaired, most places didn't have windows, places were blackened from smoke or other fire damage, several families lived in one home and squatters were in the grounds. Near our hotel, there was a tangled mass of rusting car bodies that had yet to be cleared. Until early 1987, travel outside the city was not permitted and we were restricted to the urban core, a few markets and the road to the airport.
I was the househusband and my partner set about working with the authorities. She represented three Australian aid agencies, increasing to four in 1987, and worked with Agriculture, Health and Education ministries, through interpreters / liaison people. Each office was under-resourced and horribly under-staffed as the KR had killed large numbers of the educated and many of the survivors had fled to the Thai border in the chaos of that regime's overthrow. As well, a socialist overlay with the Soviets imposing their development model meant procedures were, um, inefficient. Meetings, ideological sessions, all the nonsense of central planning, and our role was a bit player, what we could offer was but a drop in the bucket.
We were assigned a beaten-up Land Cruiser with a driver, mainly used to go to offices around town, and I bought a bicycle which gave me freedom to explore the town. I worked with Unicef compiling groundwater data, a Japanese NGO asked me to fill in at their workshop then under construction, I went to the port to oversee the unloading of supplies from Singapore and, most importantly, worked with an American guy to get the hotel pool fit for purpose. That took a while but we succeeded. We had also brought Correspondence School material for our son, but being teacher was a job beyond me. And I was a film extra, in a film being made by a Czech film crew and titled "The Nine Circles of Hell". My part was in an evacuation scene of 1975, with a few other westerners and Russian women being herded into a truck as the victorious KR took power. The most amazing thing I witnessed was the local actors dressed as Khmer Rouge waiting for their time, and a crowd formed and spontaneously stoned the truck they were sitting in. It was very visceral and raw. I also attended Khmer classes twice weekly at the Uni of Phnom Penh; instruction was in French.
Our posting was very much considered one of hardship and there was provision to travel out of the country every three months. First trip was to Bangkok, then down the coast to Hua Hin. In 1987, this down-at-heel resort town was on the cusp of change. The Railway Hotel in town had been used three years earlier as a set in the movie "The Killing Fields", a few other places offered rooms. We spent a week there enjoying the beach then returned to Bangkok to buy supplies for our return to Phnom Penh. Travel restrictions were gradually lifted around the capital and we were able to head out, on day trips to visit agricultural projects and for weekend downtime, to Kien Svay by the Mekong for Sunday lunches and to nearby provinces. Some 30 km south, Tonle Bati had lakeside picnic areas but also a 12th century Angkor temple and, on the northern side, the ruins of a school full of human remains, bleached ribs, arm and leg bones, all sorted and stacked high. One room held skulls; the sign said there were 5,111 there. This had been an interrogation centre for the Khmer Rouge a few years earlier. And a little further south, Phnom Chisor, on top of a hillock above the rice fields, was another temple complex dating from the 11th century. It had an unexploded bomb dropped by the Americans in the middle of the ruins. These were worth a look as a taster until we could get to Siem Reap and the fabled Angkor Wat. A trip 30 km east to Kompong Speu, where an Australian pump was employed for irrigation, brought rural poverty into stark relief, and the site of the former province capital was pointed out; so heavily bombed a decade earlier, with plenty of UXBs still around, it had been left untouched and reclaimed by jungle.
The political world was in a state of flux with talk of glasnost and perestroika heralding changes in the Soviet Union and Vietnam was under pressure to withdraw its troops from Kampuchea. The Russian presence was reducing and we mixed with eastern Europeans. "Prague is west of Vienna" was a refrain we heard a few times. We also picked up an Embassy man, an urbane Muscovite, clearly KGB, who would visit on a weekly basis for a chat. He was useful, showing us how to traverse the city at night and avoid all the checkpoints. In the PRK, a young Foreign Minister, Hun Sen, became more prominent and the technocrat faction, of mainly Western educated functionaries, reached out. The old guard, under Heng Samrin, was still around and the military leadership was still opaque, at least to us, as was the Ministry of the Interior. It was seen that as the Soviets were disengaging, their own version of realpolitik meant a greater focus on Asia and the West. In August 1987 a policy of National Reconciliation was launched by the government looking to end the civil war. Backdoor channels opened with the KPNLF and Funcinpec and there was talk of elections. The big prize was to get Sihanouk to return but that would be a way off.
In the middle of the wet season, we took leave in Australia, some home time but a lot of visiting agencies, meeting with donors and government people, and also contacting the Cambodians who'd arrived as refugees. This was important outreach work as there was much distrust, trauma, lack of information between those that had left as refugees and the new government. We often heard 'two sides of the same coin' for the KR and PRK; our role was to break down barriers and act as intermediaries by carrying letters, sharing photos, returning with money, always a $100 greenback, done without taking a clip.
Sept 1986: Our first stop was Bangkok, and our passports were sent to Vientiane for visas that had been approved but needed issuing. For Westerners, in the mid 1980's, there was only one way to enter what was then callethe Peoples Republic of Kampuchea and that was by the weekly Red Cross charter flight in an Antonov-24 piloted by Russians. It flew from Ho Chi Minh City, formerly Saigon, over the Mekong plain, where bomb craters from B52 runs were clearly visible over much of the land. The flight was timed to connect with the Paris - BKK - SGN service run by Air France, but there was usually an indeterminate wait in the transit lounge. At the time the PRK was in the socialist bloc, 'fraternal friendships' with Vietnam, the Soviet Union and assorted satellite countries. There was a significant Eastern bloc presence, of Russians, East Germans, Czechs, Cubans rebuilding the country after the ravages of the 1970s that culminated in the disastrous Pol Pot regime. Apart from an Indian diplomatic presence, no western nation recognised the government, the UN had a few technical agencies on the ground, WHO, WFP and Unicef, and ICRC, the Red Cross, was there, plus international NGOs had maybe 50 people in Phnom Penh.
With about a dozen others, we arrived on Thursday afternoon and were met by our liaison from the Agriculture dept. Pochentong airport is about 6 km east of the city centre and we drove in on empty streets. It was the end of the rainy season and very humid. We stayed the first week in the Monorom Hotel where single people were assigned; there were a couple of soldiers with AK47s at the entrance. The other memory was how quiet Monivong Boulevarde, the main street, was; it was busy but, as bicycles were the only traffic, everyone glided by in silence. There was a bullet hole in the window of our room. When a place became available, we moved to the Hotel Samakki, formerly Le Royal, then Le Phnom and once the grandest of colonial hotels, on spacious grounds just down from Wat Phnom and opposite the Cercle Sportif. Abandoned during the Khmer Rouge years, it had seen better days. There were about a dozen bungalows around a swimming pool and we were assigned a two-bedroom one, to be the office and residence. Our neighbours were families, aid workers and spouses plus children, probably a dozen in all. The pool was turgid green but our kids had space to play in the grounds. Armed guards were on the gate and, best of all, there was a generator that could start up when the power went off. We took on a maid, a widow who lived nearby, and this allowed me to pursue short-term contract work.
Phnom Penh in 1986 bore the marks of fifteen years of war, refugees, evacuation, neglect and painful reestablishment. Whole sections of town were blocked off, the Army HQ was near the centre of town and had requisitioned street after street. The Vietnamese forces occupied nearly an entire suburb. It had been more than seven years since the Khmer Rouge had been ousted but the country was still isolated, under sanctions and very much a pawn of geopolitical posturing. Electricity was sporadic, there was a curfew from 9pm to 6am, vehicular traffic was minimal, with some trucks, the occasional aid car, cyclo-pousses (trishaws with passenger in front), some bicycles. Private cars and even motorbikes were noticeably absent. In the surrounding areas, the housing stock was generally unrepaired, most places didn't have windows, places were blackened from smoke or other fire damage, several families lived in one home and squatters were in the grounds. Near our hotel, there was a tangled mass of rusting car bodies that had yet to be cleared. Until early 1987, travel outside the city was not permitted and we were restricted to the urban core, a few markets and the road to the airport.
I was the househusband and my partner set about working with the authorities. She represented three Australian aid agencies, increasing to four in 1987, and worked with Agriculture, Health and Education ministries, through interpreters / liaison people. Each office was under-resourced and horribly under-staffed as the KR had killed large numbers of the educated and many of the survivors had fled to the Thai border in the chaos of that regime's overthrow. As well, a socialist overlay with the Soviets imposing their development model meant procedures were, um, inefficient. Meetings, ideological sessions, all the nonsense of central planning, and our role was a bit player, what we could offer was but a drop in the bucket.
We were assigned a beaten-up Land Cruiser with a driver, mainly used to go to offices around town, and I bought a bicycle which gave me freedom to explore the town. I worked with Unicef compiling groundwater data, a Japanese NGO asked me to fill in at their workshop then under construction, I went to the port to oversee the unloading of supplies from Singapore and, most importantly, worked with an American guy to get the hotel pool fit for purpose. That took a while but we succeeded. We had also brought Correspondence School material for our son, but being teacher was a job beyond me. And I was a film extra, in a film being made by a Czech film crew and titled "The Nine Circles of Hell". My part was in an evacuation scene of 1975, with a few other westerners and Russian women being herded into a truck as the victorious KR took power. The most amazing thing I witnessed was the local actors dressed as Khmer Rouge waiting for their time, and a crowd formed and spontaneously stoned the truck they were sitting in. It was very visceral and raw. I also attended Khmer classes twice weekly at the Uni of Phnom Penh; instruction was in French.
Our posting was very much considered one of hardship and there was provision to travel out of the country every three months. First trip was to Bangkok, then down the coast to Hua Hin. In 1987, this down-at-heel resort town was on the cusp of change. The Railway Hotel in town had been used three years earlier as a set in the movie "The Killing Fields", a few other places offered rooms. We spent a week there enjoying the beach then returned to Bangkok to buy supplies for our return to Phnom Penh. Travel restrictions were gradually lifted around the capital and we were able to head out, on day trips to visit agricultural projects and for weekend downtime, to Kien Svay by the Mekong for Sunday lunches and to nearby provinces. Some 30 km south, Tonle Bati had lakeside picnic areas but also a 12th century Angkor temple and, on the northern side, the ruins of a school full of human remains, bleached ribs, arm and leg bones, all sorted and stacked high. One room held skulls; the sign said there were 5,111 there. This had been an interrogation centre for the Khmer Rouge a few years earlier. And a little further south, Phnom Chisor, on top of a hillock above the rice fields, was another temple complex dating from the 11th century. It had an unexploded bomb dropped by the Americans in the middle of the ruins. These were worth a look as a taster until we could get to Siem Reap and the fabled Angkor Wat. A trip 30 km east to Kompong Speu, where an Australian pump was employed for irrigation, brought rural poverty into stark relief, and the site of the former province capital was pointed out; so heavily bombed a decade earlier, with plenty of UXBs still around, it had been left untouched and reclaimed by jungle.
The political world was in a state of flux with talk of glasnost and perestroika heralding changes in the Soviet Union and Vietnam was under pressure to withdraw its troops from Kampuchea. The Russian presence was reducing and we mixed with eastern Europeans. "Prague is west of Vienna" was a refrain we heard a few times. We also picked up an Embassy man, an urbane Muscovite, clearly KGB, who would visit on a weekly basis for a chat. He was useful, showing us how to traverse the city at night and avoid all the checkpoints. In the PRK, a young Foreign Minister, Hun Sen, became more prominent and the technocrat faction, of mainly Western educated functionaries, reached out. The old guard, under Heng Samrin, was still around and the military leadership was still opaque, at least to us, as was the Ministry of the Interior. It was seen that as the Soviets were disengaging, their own version of realpolitik meant a greater focus on Asia and the West. In August 1987 a policy of National Reconciliation was launched by the government looking to end the civil war. Backdoor channels opened with the KPNLF and Funcinpec and there was talk of elections. The big prize was to get Sihanouk to return but that would be a way off.
In the middle of the wet season, we took leave in Australia, some home time but a lot of visiting agencies, meeting with donors and government people, and also contacting the Cambodians who'd arrived as refugees. This was important outreach work as there was much distrust, trauma, lack of information between those that had left as refugees and the new government. We often heard 'two sides of the same coin' for the KR and PRK; our role was to break down barriers and act as intermediaries by carrying letters, sharing photos, returning with money, always a $100 greenback, done without taking a clip.
Dona Ferentes
A little bit OC⚡DC
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Back in Phnom Penh, it soon became apparent change was afoot; our efforts seemed more appreciated, province-based projects encouraged, travel made easier and proposals for staff or technical advisers dealt with quickly. We also started to receive invitations to events, cultural shows like a Russian circus or Ukrainian rock band. And a highlight, a performance by the Royal Ballet of Cambodia, one of the first for the rebuilt troupe since the genocide when many dancers were killed. The Ballet is a unique cultural experience and many dances have been passed down for a millennium; the apsaras on Angkor bas reliefs really do come to life. There was talk of visits to Angkor Wat starting up. Nobody quite believed this would happen quickly as the western part of the country was still an active war zone. Towards the end of the year, a plane was organised and assorted aid workers went along at US$120 per person. We flew to Siem Reap, took in the Angkor Wat complex and returned to the airport by early afternoon. Even a visit to Bayon was not feasible as security was not guaranteed nor demining completed; at the airport, we could see Vietnamese troops around the perimeter fence. I returned in 1988 with some aid workers who were doing irrigation projects and looking at rehabilitating the canal system, another time in the company of Australian politicians and as a tour guide.
The next short holiday was at Christmas time, to Bangkok, a bus to Rayong and then spend a week at the down-market hippie haven of Ko Samet, very much basic beachside accommodation and the perfect tonic. Before Easter 1988 I went to Bangkok with my son, we took the train to Malaysia, to Butterworth and KL and on to Singapore; the rest of the family flew in and we caught up with the kids' grandparents. They were not game to travel to the third world and stayed at the Shangri-La, we had digs at the Ladyhill nearby. If I could have a dollar for every request from Japanese tourists to photograph our platinum blonde daughter as she swam in the pool, I would be a rich man. We also met up with the shipping agent who was a lifeline for supplies shipped to Phnom Penh.
Earlier there had been rumours of tourist arrivals, and we had chanced upon the first group, run by a Sydneysider, Paul, the same guy that had been doing our tickets ex-Australia. His tour, out of Bangkok, was to Saigon, two nights in Phnom Penh, a day trip to Siem Reap then back to Vietnam and out to Bangkok. Paul told me the first flight was completely booked out by spooks, men of certain dress styles and with particular interests. He asked me if I wanted to be involved, with an opportunity in 1988 so, after our Singapore trip, I returned to BKK to meet the group that had signed up for a 7-day Indochina experience. First to Ho Chi Minh City, to see the various city sights, the war museum, Independence Palace, a cruise on the river, Mme Dai's Bibliothèque and restaurant, a visit to Cu Chi tunnels (before they were enlarged for tourists) and a trip to My Tho in the delta. Then a flight to Phnom Penh, seeing places of interest in the city - the royal palace, Wat Phnom, Toul Sleng, Choeng Ek, the markets, Quatre Bras where the Mekong meets Tonle Sap and the Bassac - and a flight to Siem Reap to go to Angkor Wat and now Bayon. After a full day, we were sitting in the grounds of the Grand Hotel waiting to leave when a mortar round landed a hundred metres away. KR had seen the plane land earlier and somehow snuck closer. We hurried to make our departure.
Hun Sen had travelled to France, met Sihanouk on 02 Dec 1987 and a joint communique was signed between the two; a further negotiation in Jan 1988 cemented the agreement and led to the beginning of the end of the civil war. When Hun Sen returned to Phnom Penh, the air was electric and the entire country, it seemed, was watching TV that night as he outlined the developments. In the country, Vietnamese forces were leaving with local army units and militia taking over; this led to a decline in security and active Khmer Rouge units pressed in from the border areas, but generally were contained to the Dangrek scarp and the forested Cardamon and Elephant Mountains. In Phnom Penh we witnessed several long convoys of Vietnamese troops and equipment rolling through town on the road to home. Peace talks and elections overseen by the UN were to follow.
Change was manifested on the ground; the curfew went, consumer goods could be found in the markets, more restaurants opened and, on the roads, motorbikes and cars increased in number. From a trickle in the previous year, a flood of new residents and short-term visitors started to arrive. Our agencies had developed programs and soon there was an Aussie vet, two English teachers, an ethnomusicologist, some nurses, a librarian and a technical teacher. With Bill Hayden and then Gareth Evans pushing for a political solution on the global stage, media developed an interest. Academics visited as did politicians of all hues; most beat a path to our door.
Early in 1988, a group of NGO reps flew to Battembang to assess projects; the town was quiet but the locals told of heavy fighting towards Pailin. Our flight back to Phnom Penh was overloaded with more than 70 on board, locals hitching a ride rather than the three-day road trip, in what was a 40-seater Antonov. Upon landing we noticed blood flowing under the cargo hold door. Upon opening a charnel house of injured, maimed soldiers was revealed. About ten in all, they were writhing on the floor, blood splattered and clothes torn, flies buzzed their wounds; a truck reversed up and they were loaded on and taken to hospital.
We travelled to Kampot and the seaside resort of Kep several times; the first trip took 6 hours, by mid 1988, it was down to 4 and, as more of the road was repaired; before 1970, the 130 km trip took an hour and a half. This province on the south coast was famous for durian and white pepper plantations. Seafood was abundant and meals put on by the provincial authorities were sumptuous feasts. There was an air of prosperity, helped by the informal import economy, sometimes known as smuggling. We could not visit the hill-station of Bokor, 1100m high and clearly visible from Kampot; it was said KR still operated in the area. We visited Kep, from where the Vietnamese island of Phu Quoc can be seen a few kilometres offshore. Described as the Cambodian Riviera during Sihanouk's time and where he had a palace and gracious villas lined the foreshore, a casino operated and the 'smart set' spent their weekends during the dry season. Now, for kilometres along the foreshore, there was little left; just piles of rubble and the jungle reclaiming any remnant structures. Some people lived in the ruins under banana-leaf covers but the town was one of almost complete devastation.
With the opening up of travel, we went to Kompong Cham twice. Each time after crossing the Mekong by ferry at Prek Pnov, we had an escort of a dozen soldiers in a couple of jeeps. Key bridges were fortified and guarded; militia were stationed in groups all along the road. The provincial capital had a three metre wall of thorny bristles, wood and earth around its perimeter. On the first visit in Feb 1988, the town was largely unrepaired and boarded up though the markets were busy. Electricity was on for 3 hours in the evening and we went to bed early. On the second visit in August, much had changed. A hideous sculpture in heroic socialist style dominated the central roundabout. The Chinese shops had opened, as had restaurants. There were PRK soldiers on duty as all Vietnamese troops had left and the local military commander invited us to the central HQ and barracks. "See, there are no Vietnamese here," he proudly announced. We were invited to our host's home and socialised till late. Next morning, we crossed the Mekong by ferry and drove east for 30 kms along red laterite roads to Chup, a district hosting large rubber plantations. These had been established by Michelin in the colonial period and were, though run down, still actively exploited. We saw rubber tappers at work and visited the factory where latex was processed to base rubber; conditions for the workers could only be described as 'Dickensian'.
The next short holiday was at Christmas time, to Bangkok, a bus to Rayong and then spend a week at the down-market hippie haven of Ko Samet, very much basic beachside accommodation and the perfect tonic. Before Easter 1988 I went to Bangkok with my son, we took the train to Malaysia, to Butterworth and KL and on to Singapore; the rest of the family flew in and we caught up with the kids' grandparents. They were not game to travel to the third world and stayed at the Shangri-La, we had digs at the Ladyhill nearby. If I could have a dollar for every request from Japanese tourists to photograph our platinum blonde daughter as she swam in the pool, I would be a rich man. We also met up with the shipping agent who was a lifeline for supplies shipped to Phnom Penh.
Earlier there had been rumours of tourist arrivals, and we had chanced upon the first group, run by a Sydneysider, Paul, the same guy that had been doing our tickets ex-Australia. His tour, out of Bangkok, was to Saigon, two nights in Phnom Penh, a day trip to Siem Reap then back to Vietnam and out to Bangkok. Paul told me the first flight was completely booked out by spooks, men of certain dress styles and with particular interests. He asked me if I wanted to be involved, with an opportunity in 1988 so, after our Singapore trip, I returned to BKK to meet the group that had signed up for a 7-day Indochina experience. First to Ho Chi Minh City, to see the various city sights, the war museum, Independence Palace, a cruise on the river, Mme Dai's Bibliothèque and restaurant, a visit to Cu Chi tunnels (before they were enlarged for tourists) and a trip to My Tho in the delta. Then a flight to Phnom Penh, seeing places of interest in the city - the royal palace, Wat Phnom, Toul Sleng, Choeng Ek, the markets, Quatre Bras where the Mekong meets Tonle Sap and the Bassac - and a flight to Siem Reap to go to Angkor Wat and now Bayon. After a full day, we were sitting in the grounds of the Grand Hotel waiting to leave when a mortar round landed a hundred metres away. KR had seen the plane land earlier and somehow snuck closer. We hurried to make our departure.
Hun Sen had travelled to France, met Sihanouk on 02 Dec 1987 and a joint communique was signed between the two; a further negotiation in Jan 1988 cemented the agreement and led to the beginning of the end of the civil war. When Hun Sen returned to Phnom Penh, the air was electric and the entire country, it seemed, was watching TV that night as he outlined the developments. In the country, Vietnamese forces were leaving with local army units and militia taking over; this led to a decline in security and active Khmer Rouge units pressed in from the border areas, but generally were contained to the Dangrek scarp and the forested Cardamon and Elephant Mountains. In Phnom Penh we witnessed several long convoys of Vietnamese troops and equipment rolling through town on the road to home. Peace talks and elections overseen by the UN were to follow.
Change was manifested on the ground; the curfew went, consumer goods could be found in the markets, more restaurants opened and, on the roads, motorbikes and cars increased in number. From a trickle in the previous year, a flood of new residents and short-term visitors started to arrive. Our agencies had developed programs and soon there was an Aussie vet, two English teachers, an ethnomusicologist, some nurses, a librarian and a technical teacher. With Bill Hayden and then Gareth Evans pushing for a political solution on the global stage, media developed an interest. Academics visited as did politicians of all hues; most beat a path to our door.
Early in 1988, a group of NGO reps flew to Battembang to assess projects; the town was quiet but the locals told of heavy fighting towards Pailin. Our flight back to Phnom Penh was overloaded with more than 70 on board, locals hitching a ride rather than the three-day road trip, in what was a 40-seater Antonov. Upon landing we noticed blood flowing under the cargo hold door. Upon opening a charnel house of injured, maimed soldiers was revealed. About ten in all, they were writhing on the floor, blood splattered and clothes torn, flies buzzed their wounds; a truck reversed up and they were loaded on and taken to hospital.
We travelled to Kampot and the seaside resort of Kep several times; the first trip took 6 hours, by mid 1988, it was down to 4 and, as more of the road was repaired; before 1970, the 130 km trip took an hour and a half. This province on the south coast was famous for durian and white pepper plantations. Seafood was abundant and meals put on by the provincial authorities were sumptuous feasts. There was an air of prosperity, helped by the informal import economy, sometimes known as smuggling. We could not visit the hill-station of Bokor, 1100m high and clearly visible from Kampot; it was said KR still operated in the area. We visited Kep, from where the Vietnamese island of Phu Quoc can be seen a few kilometres offshore. Described as the Cambodian Riviera during Sihanouk's time and where he had a palace and gracious villas lined the foreshore, a casino operated and the 'smart set' spent their weekends during the dry season. Now, for kilometres along the foreshore, there was little left; just piles of rubble and the jungle reclaiming any remnant structures. Some people lived in the ruins under banana-leaf covers but the town was one of almost complete devastation.
With the opening up of travel, we went to Kompong Cham twice. Each time after crossing the Mekong by ferry at Prek Pnov, we had an escort of a dozen soldiers in a couple of jeeps. Key bridges were fortified and guarded; militia were stationed in groups all along the road. The provincial capital had a three metre wall of thorny bristles, wood and earth around its perimeter. On the first visit in Feb 1988, the town was largely unrepaired and boarded up though the markets were busy. Electricity was on for 3 hours in the evening and we went to bed early. On the second visit in August, much had changed. A hideous sculpture in heroic socialist style dominated the central roundabout. The Chinese shops had opened, as had restaurants. There were PRK soldiers on duty as all Vietnamese troops had left and the local military commander invited us to the central HQ and barracks. "See, there are no Vietnamese here," he proudly announced. We were invited to our host's home and socialised till late. Next morning, we crossed the Mekong by ferry and drove east for 30 kms along red laterite roads to Chup, a district hosting large rubber plantations. These had been established by Michelin in the colonial period and were, though run down, still actively exploited. We saw rubber tappers at work and visited the factory where latex was processed to base rubber; conditions for the workers could only be described as 'Dickensian'.
Dona Ferentes
A little bit OC⚡DC
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The 1987 wet season had been poor and the harvest, in December and January 1988, came up short. As hunger loomed, the government appealed to the international community and Australia responded with a half million donation in the form of imported rice to be used in a 'Food for Work' program. The Department of Hydrology allocated the rice to provinces and used on irrigation projects. Workers were paid in rice, not cash. It was my job to ensure distribution was as equitable as possible. By the middle of the year, I was out and about, at sites close to Phnom Penh in Kandal province and once to Kompong Speu where a dam had collapsed. Turning off the bitumen, we drove 30km along rutted tracks to the edge of the cultivated plain abutting the Elephant Mountains. We passed hamlets that had rudimentary defences; any district level government building was fortified with trenches, revetments, barbwire and pillboxes. At the dam site, about 200 workers, mainly young women, put in a 6am-to-noon day carrying earth for 2 kg of rice each. The work was to repair a dam wall hastily and poorly constructed during the Pol Pot years that was in danger of collapsing.
Pursat had been off limits for many years, and when I received permission to visit, other agencies lined up to go. Heading north on RN 5, the first half of the trip was on a good sealed road but, from the province boundary, repairs stopped. Frequent huge washouts, corrugations, damaged or destroyed bridges all slowed us down and the final 50 km took over three hours. Finally at Pursat town, we met the governor and the administration, went through the usual formalities before projects for the next few days were discussed. The generator went off at 9pm and sleep beckoned. We stayed in a compound guarded by a dozen militia; some seemed no older than fourteen and were almost dwarfed by their AK-47s. We gave them cigarettes so they would stay awake. Our rice was going to labourers working on sluice gate repairs but it was soon evident much more, in the way of cement, rebar and pumps were needed. We were the first Western aid group to visit Pursat; the teams stayed an extra day scoping out needs. On the way back to Phnom Penh, there was an offer to see Tonle Sap lake. We turned off at Krakor, heading for Kampong Luong where houses were on stilts, for the lake, the lung of Cambodia, rises and falls with wet and dry seasons. Further on, when land gave way to water, was a floating village; houses, fish factories, shops floated on buoyancy tanks. Several thousand people lived and worked here. About 3 km out, as the lake stretched to the horizon, the last structures were military, a base with a garrison, customs post and a series of machine gun posts, a deterrent against raiding KR from across the lake.
Following the second Kompong Cham visit, our final monitoring trip was to Prey Veng. We followed the Mekong, to Neak Luong and took a ferry to the northern side of the river. The land was flat and well suited to rice growing. The early monsoon had come, the fields looked green and the many shallow lakes were filling. In the distance, palm sugar trees marked the edge of cultivation. There was almost complete destruction and the market towns only offered basic goods. The largest town had a few surviving French colonial buildings but many structures were in disrepair. We met with local officials who said the canal system was failing and they needed pumps, rebar, sluice gates. But they had misused our donation, not completing dam repairs and selling some rice on the private market.
In Phnom Penh, I taught English to a group of agronomists who were soon off to Los Baños in the Philippines, home of IRRI. I hope the crash 2-week course helped. With liberalisation, English was much in demand and private schools proliferated in late 1988, with one street given over to informal classrooms full of students. French was less popular despite Alliance Francais offering free classes. Our office had been involved in English language teaching in Hanoi since 1985 for PRK cadre and it was time to bring that program back to Phnom Penh. We flew to Hanoi in August, and met with official then had a few days off. A decrepid Russian ZIM car was provided, and we drove to Haiphong then on to Ha Long Bay. At the time, there was only a government guest house and a workers' hotel, so we stayed in the empty guest house and had a half day trip on a fishing boat to the spectacular limestone islands that rise up from the emerald sea. No other tourists were there, just fisherfolk.
I became involved in another film, entitled 'L'Ombre des Ténèbres', first buying 16mm filmstock 7420 in Bangkok and then, as courier, taking out raw film stock for developing, in Bangkok. I did it myself a few times and would look around for people going on leave, using up favours, a reel at a time. These were the longest rushes in history, I'd reckon, and the film took more than a year to finish. It was the first Khmer language film made by local cinema buffs since the golden days when Sihanouk fancied himself as a cineaste. I saw the final cut just before we left in 1989. One of the reels had been badly developed and I took it to Sydney when we had a visit to Australia in September. It was damaged but salvageable to an extent; such was the budget that they used it in screenings.
We had one more trip in-country, a bit of tourism and a bit of a thank you, as our posting was to end in January 1989. Early December, a trip to the country's major port of Kompong Som was organised, by road through the Elephant Mountains and along the shores of the Gulf of Thailand. Our interpreter/ guide turned up with a guard, they both had AK-47s. They said there no problems, it was merely precautionary. We drove through Kompong Speu province, the flat lands of rice fields gave way to foothills and soon we were in scrubland, then forest. It was a good road, built in the '60s as an American aid project. Traffic was constant; Kamaz trucks laden with both civilian and military equipment, buses laden with traders and their wares, cars imported from Singapore smuggled in on fishing boats. Over the crest, through timber towns, mere thatched huts and temporary. We passed through an ambush site, two petrol tankers and a lorry burnt to a crisp, the singed grass and melted bitumen indicating it was recent, then along the coastal plain with glimpses of sea sparkling through the trees. The town, originally and now renamed Sihanoukville, is built on trade, fishing and industry and had a prosperous air. There were many new houses with cars and motorbikes rather than bicycles on the roads. Scrap metal, the detritus of modern war and ready for export, lined the port area. Our arrival was a surprise to the locals as the only other visitors, journalists, had come by helicopter a year prior and only for a few hours. We visited a deserted hotel, the L'Independance, and then went to an abandoned motel on Ou Chhteuteal Beach. A generator was located and we stayed there, the kids having the calm, clear waters and sparkling sand to themselves. The locals were Chinese, Vietnamese, even Thai, urban traders not farm people. After enjoying the hospitality for a few days, we headed back to Phnom Penh. At Prey Nob, our guide said we should go back the 'other way'. We turned right and followed the coastline in under the mountains, heading for Kampot. Then he suddenly tensed as we approached a bridge; a black-clad soldier with a gun was on guard. We sped through and everything went quiet then, about 20 km on, another bridge and a couple of soldiers, also in black. A bit further on, and closing in on agricultural land, our guide let slip they were Khmer Rouge. We had passed through safely but there was some consternation. Luckily, I think, the beaten-up old 1970s Land Cruiser, a rattle trap, nothing special, did not attract their attention.
With the tenth anniversary of the overthrow of the KR looming, the government had embarked on a program of cleaning up the town, building floats and training students, government departments, military to march, with the goal of holding a massive parade, boat race and concert to celebrate the anniversary. The occasion was also the demonstrate that the Vietnamese forces had left and the PRK was running the show. An Australian business had, in the last minute, donated a string of lights, globes spaced out on electric cable and close to 2 km long. This was airfreighted to Saigon on the 26 Dec and permits rapidly issued. With a truck and 4WD, we drove down RN1, crossed the border at Bavet and into Ho Chi Minh City and stayed in a hotel that night. Next morning they paid in dong and I paid in USD, about 5x the rate. We headed to Tan Son Nhut, the guys were anxious but whatever paperwork they had seem to work; Customs release was expedited, a forklift tracked down and the truck loaded. A decision was made to head for the border but we arrived after 5pm when it closed. This didn't seem to be a huge problem, though getting my passport stamped was the biggest hiccup. We got to the Kampuchean side about 8pm, then headed to Svay Rieng for the night. Quite a bit of car smuggling seemed to be happening after dark, it seemed. The lighting was quickly installed across the main gate, along the walls and on the roof line of the Royal Palace and made quite a sight. Normally the city was very dark with poor or no illumination; for a few days everything was lit up and festive.
On the 7th of January 1989, we rose early and went to see the parade. We had passes to the viewing area and got to see a wonderfully jumbled mix of Soviet and Khmer, with military in tight 10x12 blocks taking the salute, government ministries highlighting their activities, cultural displays, schoolkids, gymnastics, dancing groups all marching along. In the afternoon, longboats with teams of a dozen or so paddlers raced on the river, the first time since 1969 this important ceremony and in the evening, fireworks by the river and the 'Grand Spectacle', two hours of performance. Some 300 actors and arts students brought to stage 1200 years of Khmer history, from the glories of Angkor through invasions from east and west, the colonial period, and stark periods of theatre for the war and Pol Pot years. Naturally, from repression the true voice of the people arose, as portrayed in heroic socialist form. I suspect, from the tentative days of rebellion a decade ago, most of those present were glad to have made it and still be alive.
Cross-border travels
1. Aust - Singapore 29 Sept 1986; SIN - BKK 01 Oct; BKK - Phnom Penh 09 Oct 86
2. PNH - BKK 22 Jan 87; BKK - PNH 05 Feb 87
3. PNH - BKK 07 May 87; BKK - Malaysia by train 13 May; -> Sing by train 14 May; SIN - BKK 21 May; BKK - PNH 28 May 87
4. PNH - BKK - SIN 13 Aug 87; SIN - SYD 15 Aug; SYD - BKK 12 Oct; BKK - PNH 15 Oct 87
5. PNH - BKK 17 Dec 87; BKK - PNH 31 Dec 87
6. PNH - BKK 31 Mar 88; -> Malaysia by train 06 Apr; -> Singapore by train 07 Apr; SIN - BKK 10 Apr; BKK - SGN 11 Apr; SGN - PNH 13 Apr; PNH - SGN 15 Apr; SGN - BKK 18 Apr; BKK - PNH 21 Apr 88
7. PNH - Hanoi 14 Jul 88; Hanoi - PNH 21 Jul 88
8. PNH - BKK 01 Sep 88; BKK - SYD 04 Sep; SYD - BKK 17 Oct; BKK - PNH 20 Oct 88
9. Phnom Penh to Ho Chi Minh by road (Bavet) 26 Dec 88 and return 27 Dec 88
10. PNH - BKK 15 Jan 89, arr. SYD 16 Jan 89
Pursat had been off limits for many years, and when I received permission to visit, other agencies lined up to go. Heading north on RN 5, the first half of the trip was on a good sealed road but, from the province boundary, repairs stopped. Frequent huge washouts, corrugations, damaged or destroyed bridges all slowed us down and the final 50 km took over three hours. Finally at Pursat town, we met the governor and the administration, went through the usual formalities before projects for the next few days were discussed. The generator went off at 9pm and sleep beckoned. We stayed in a compound guarded by a dozen militia; some seemed no older than fourteen and were almost dwarfed by their AK-47s. We gave them cigarettes so they would stay awake. Our rice was going to labourers working on sluice gate repairs but it was soon evident much more, in the way of cement, rebar and pumps were needed. We were the first Western aid group to visit Pursat; the teams stayed an extra day scoping out needs. On the way back to Phnom Penh, there was an offer to see Tonle Sap lake. We turned off at Krakor, heading for Kampong Luong where houses were on stilts, for the lake, the lung of Cambodia, rises and falls with wet and dry seasons. Further on, when land gave way to water, was a floating village; houses, fish factories, shops floated on buoyancy tanks. Several thousand people lived and worked here. About 3 km out, as the lake stretched to the horizon, the last structures were military, a base with a garrison, customs post and a series of machine gun posts, a deterrent against raiding KR from across the lake.
Following the second Kompong Cham visit, our final monitoring trip was to Prey Veng. We followed the Mekong, to Neak Luong and took a ferry to the northern side of the river. The land was flat and well suited to rice growing. The early monsoon had come, the fields looked green and the many shallow lakes were filling. In the distance, palm sugar trees marked the edge of cultivation. There was almost complete destruction and the market towns only offered basic goods. The largest town had a few surviving French colonial buildings but many structures were in disrepair. We met with local officials who said the canal system was failing and they needed pumps, rebar, sluice gates. But they had misused our donation, not completing dam repairs and selling some rice on the private market.
In Phnom Penh, I taught English to a group of agronomists who were soon off to Los Baños in the Philippines, home of IRRI. I hope the crash 2-week course helped. With liberalisation, English was much in demand and private schools proliferated in late 1988, with one street given over to informal classrooms full of students. French was less popular despite Alliance Francais offering free classes. Our office had been involved in English language teaching in Hanoi since 1985 for PRK cadre and it was time to bring that program back to Phnom Penh. We flew to Hanoi in August, and met with official then had a few days off. A decrepid Russian ZIM car was provided, and we drove to Haiphong then on to Ha Long Bay. At the time, there was only a government guest house and a workers' hotel, so we stayed in the empty guest house and had a half day trip on a fishing boat to the spectacular limestone islands that rise up from the emerald sea. No other tourists were there, just fisherfolk.
I became involved in another film, entitled 'L'Ombre des Ténèbres', first buying 16mm filmstock 7420 in Bangkok and then, as courier, taking out raw film stock for developing, in Bangkok. I did it myself a few times and would look around for people going on leave, using up favours, a reel at a time. These were the longest rushes in history, I'd reckon, and the film took more than a year to finish. It was the first Khmer language film made by local cinema buffs since the golden days when Sihanouk fancied himself as a cineaste. I saw the final cut just before we left in 1989. One of the reels had been badly developed and I took it to Sydney when we had a visit to Australia in September. It was damaged but salvageable to an extent; such was the budget that they used it in screenings.
We had one more trip in-country, a bit of tourism and a bit of a thank you, as our posting was to end in January 1989. Early December, a trip to the country's major port of Kompong Som was organised, by road through the Elephant Mountains and along the shores of the Gulf of Thailand. Our interpreter/ guide turned up with a guard, they both had AK-47s. They said there no problems, it was merely precautionary. We drove through Kompong Speu province, the flat lands of rice fields gave way to foothills and soon we were in scrubland, then forest. It was a good road, built in the '60s as an American aid project. Traffic was constant; Kamaz trucks laden with both civilian and military equipment, buses laden with traders and their wares, cars imported from Singapore smuggled in on fishing boats. Over the crest, through timber towns, mere thatched huts and temporary. We passed through an ambush site, two petrol tankers and a lorry burnt to a crisp, the singed grass and melted bitumen indicating it was recent, then along the coastal plain with glimpses of sea sparkling through the trees. The town, originally and now renamed Sihanoukville, is built on trade, fishing and industry and had a prosperous air. There were many new houses with cars and motorbikes rather than bicycles on the roads. Scrap metal, the detritus of modern war and ready for export, lined the port area. Our arrival was a surprise to the locals as the only other visitors, journalists, had come by helicopter a year prior and only for a few hours. We visited a deserted hotel, the L'Independance, and then went to an abandoned motel on Ou Chhteuteal Beach. A generator was located and we stayed there, the kids having the calm, clear waters and sparkling sand to themselves. The locals were Chinese, Vietnamese, even Thai, urban traders not farm people. After enjoying the hospitality for a few days, we headed back to Phnom Penh. At Prey Nob, our guide said we should go back the 'other way'. We turned right and followed the coastline in under the mountains, heading for Kampot. Then he suddenly tensed as we approached a bridge; a black-clad soldier with a gun was on guard. We sped through and everything went quiet then, about 20 km on, another bridge and a couple of soldiers, also in black. A bit further on, and closing in on agricultural land, our guide let slip they were Khmer Rouge. We had passed through safely but there was some consternation. Luckily, I think, the beaten-up old 1970s Land Cruiser, a rattle trap, nothing special, did not attract their attention.
With the tenth anniversary of the overthrow of the KR looming, the government had embarked on a program of cleaning up the town, building floats and training students, government departments, military to march, with the goal of holding a massive parade, boat race and concert to celebrate the anniversary. The occasion was also the demonstrate that the Vietnamese forces had left and the PRK was running the show. An Australian business had, in the last minute, donated a string of lights, globes spaced out on electric cable and close to 2 km long. This was airfreighted to Saigon on the 26 Dec and permits rapidly issued. With a truck and 4WD, we drove down RN1, crossed the border at Bavet and into Ho Chi Minh City and stayed in a hotel that night. Next morning they paid in dong and I paid in USD, about 5x the rate. We headed to Tan Son Nhut, the guys were anxious but whatever paperwork they had seem to work; Customs release was expedited, a forklift tracked down and the truck loaded. A decision was made to head for the border but we arrived after 5pm when it closed. This didn't seem to be a huge problem, though getting my passport stamped was the biggest hiccup. We got to the Kampuchean side about 8pm, then headed to Svay Rieng for the night. Quite a bit of car smuggling seemed to be happening after dark, it seemed. The lighting was quickly installed across the main gate, along the walls and on the roof line of the Royal Palace and made quite a sight. Normally the city was very dark with poor or no illumination; for a few days everything was lit up and festive.
On the 7th of January 1989, we rose early and went to see the parade. We had passes to the viewing area and got to see a wonderfully jumbled mix of Soviet and Khmer, with military in tight 10x12 blocks taking the salute, government ministries highlighting their activities, cultural displays, schoolkids, gymnastics, dancing groups all marching along. In the afternoon, longboats with teams of a dozen or so paddlers raced on the river, the first time since 1969 this important ceremony and in the evening, fireworks by the river and the 'Grand Spectacle', two hours of performance. Some 300 actors and arts students brought to stage 1200 years of Khmer history, from the glories of Angkor through invasions from east and west, the colonial period, and stark periods of theatre for the war and Pol Pot years. Naturally, from repression the true voice of the people arose, as portrayed in heroic socialist form. I suspect, from the tentative days of rebellion a decade ago, most of those present were glad to have made it and still be alive.
Cross-border travels
1. Aust - Singapore 29 Sept 1986; SIN - BKK 01 Oct; BKK - Phnom Penh 09 Oct 86
2. PNH - BKK 22 Jan 87; BKK - PNH 05 Feb 87
3. PNH - BKK 07 May 87; BKK - Malaysia by train 13 May; -> Sing by train 14 May; SIN - BKK 21 May; BKK - PNH 28 May 87
4. PNH - BKK - SIN 13 Aug 87; SIN - SYD 15 Aug; SYD - BKK 12 Oct; BKK - PNH 15 Oct 87
5. PNH - BKK 17 Dec 87; BKK - PNH 31 Dec 87
6. PNH - BKK 31 Mar 88; -> Malaysia by train 06 Apr; -> Singapore by train 07 Apr; SIN - BKK 10 Apr; BKK - SGN 11 Apr; SGN - PNH 13 Apr; PNH - SGN 15 Apr; SGN - BKK 18 Apr; BKK - PNH 21 Apr 88
7. PNH - Hanoi 14 Jul 88; Hanoi - PNH 21 Jul 88
8. PNH - BKK 01 Sep 88; BKK - SYD 04 Sep; SYD - BKK 17 Oct; BKK - PNH 20 Oct 88
9. Phnom Penh to Ho Chi Minh by road (Bavet) 26 Dec 88 and return 27 Dec 88
10. PNH - BKK 15 Jan 89, arr. SYD 16 Jan 89
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@Dona Ferentes , that was a very interesting journal, thanks for sharing, an interesting time there no doubt!
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Rome: magnificent!
Not to be missed indeed.
Walked thru all the key attractions.very busy but a glorious weather helping.
The town is very much alive even on the weekend, Romans living in Rome.
No bands of rascals, kids in parks playing, stunning difference
Aperitivos by the Coliseum, Roman ruins and stunning churches at every corner, enter one at random and you will be happily surprised.
Did i mention the food?
Florence had a hearty dried ham sausages and venison,wild mushroom focus.
Less so here but pizzas even in touristy or low key cafes are something.
A lot of intermittent fasting when we are back.
But disappointed by the Vatican museum visit: too busy to be pleasant.you are in a conveyor belt of tourist groups, literally impossible to stop or go faster in front of specific items.
After Florence visit, a few hundred extra emperor or pope busts did not to it for me.
And the chapel Sixtine left me utterly cold.
Nothing, did not find it especially nice, or impressive, or felt the heritage/historical legacy..nothing
I was spoilt by Florence initial visit of the museum there, but you do not know if you do not go..so visit if you can
but have no intention to ever visit again..yeap disappointed in myself also..did i miss something?
Queues:
I am not a queue peron : i do not queue
And i have seen some pretty long queues, but with the help of internet, timed entry tickets and jump the queue pre-booked purchases, indeed we did not queue.
Lastly,to keep with Italy folklore, there was a public transport strike yesterday.
Even with minimum mandatory service on a few hours morning and afternoon, traffic was chaotic.
Thankfully, Rome is not too big , the weather was perfect and we clocked 30000 steps on the day.
Hopefully busses are running again today.
Broadcast from the Coliseum ending here for the day..
Not to be missed indeed.
Walked thru all the key attractions.very busy but a glorious weather helping.
The town is very much alive even on the weekend, Romans living in Rome.
No bands of rascals, kids in parks playing, stunning difference
Aperitivos by the Coliseum, Roman ruins and stunning churches at every corner, enter one at random and you will be happily surprised.
Did i mention the food?
Florence had a hearty dried ham sausages and venison,wild mushroom focus.
Less so here but pizzas even in touristy or low key cafes are something.
A lot of intermittent fasting when we are back.
But disappointed by the Vatican museum visit: too busy to be pleasant.you are in a conveyor belt of tourist groups, literally impossible to stop or go faster in front of specific items.
After Florence visit, a few hundred extra emperor or pope busts did not to it for me.
And the chapel Sixtine left me utterly cold.
Nothing, did not find it especially nice, or impressive, or felt the heritage/historical legacy..nothing
I was spoilt by Florence initial visit of the museum there, but you do not know if you do not go..so visit if you can
but have no intention to ever visit again..yeap disappointed in myself also..did i miss something?
Queues:
I am not a queue peron : i do not queue
And i have seen some pretty long queues, but with the help of internet, timed entry tickets and jump the queue pre-booked purchases, indeed we did not queue.
Lastly,to keep with Italy folklore, there was a public transport strike yesterday.
Even with minimum mandatory service on a few hours morning and afternoon, traffic was chaotic.
Thankfully, Rome is not too big , the weather was perfect and we clocked 30000 steps on the day.
Hopefully busses are running again today.
Broadcast from the Coliseum ending here for the day..
Dona Ferentes
A little bit OC⚡DC
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- 11 January 2016
- Posts
- 15,079
- Reactions
- 20,438
My Indochina tour guide years
We settled back in Australia, the kids started school and preschool, and the adults found work. I was contacted by the tour operator and asked if I wanted to lead some groups doing full Indochina tours, at the end of 1989. It was convenient so I agreed. At the time, tourist efforts in Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam were organised along socialist lines, based on the Soviet Intourist model. There was Phnom Penh Tourism, Laos Tourism, Hanoi, Hue & Danang, Ho Chi Minh Tourism. Only groups were allowed and the program tightly scripted, with a local guide on each leg of any tour. I had led tours when I was living in Phnom Penh before but those were only short 7-day, six-night efforts. As conditions eased, it became possible to visit all three Indochinese countries on 14 day tours.
I flew to Bangkok in December 1989, met the group and we headed for Laos. We had a two days in Vientiane doing the sights then off to Luang Prabang by air, any road trip out of the question due to Hmong guerilla activity in the surrounding mountains. As a former capital and site of the Royal Palace before 1975, the town was an eclectic mix of traditional Lao and colonial French buildings. The numerous wats were well-endowed and quite stunning. We took a 15km trip up the Mekong by pirogue to visit the Pak Ou caves, where thousands of Buddhas have been placed. Returning to the capital, we flew to Hanoi. After Laotian informality, the northern Vietnamese were impatient, curt and not particularly welcoming. It was also quite cold. Our guide corralled us from contact with the locals as we visited the Temple of Literature, the lakes, Ho Chi Minh mausoleum, the water puppet show, and skirmished the old quarter and colonial Hanoi. A (very long) day trip to Ha Long Bay followed; not enough time to visit the remoter areas on the boat, was the justified grumble. Next day, our flight South in a crowded Ilyushin-76 started badly; we were late to the airport, the bus sped across the tarmac, we climbed the stairs and the door closed behind us. Still gathered at the entry, the engines roared, the plane taxied to the runway and we were airborne before any of our group had even found seats.
The Saigon Tourist visit list was similar to my visit 18 months earlier; Cu Chi, the war museum, My Tho. Economic activity seemed to have picked up and our group had time to poke around the markets. A range of nightclubs and bars were beginning to open though these closed early and were under scrutiny by the authorities. From the airport we flew to Phnom Penh with a one day trip to Siem Reap. As well as Angkor Wat, this time we were able to visit the Bayon temple and Angkor Thom complex. At Phnom Penh, S-21, the Toul Sleng prison and interrogation centre, had upgraded the displays. The blood on the floor from prisoners being dragged after being tortured to their cells, was fading; it was starkly visible at my first visit in 1986. As well, the Choeng Ek mass graves, where the bodies of murdered S-21 prisoners were dumped, had changed. Unearthed from pits in the ground, the remains of ten thousand of an estimated eighteen thousand victims had been placed in rickety wood and bamboo shelves, blood-soaked clothes, kramas and shoes formed piles all around. In a project for the 10th Anniversary, a massive stupa with perhaps twenty levels was built to hold these victims' bones.
I went with the group back to Bangkok, said farewells and has just under two weeks until the next tour. I headed to the northeast for a bit of solo travel. I caught a bus to Nakhon Ratchasima province and went to the Phimai ruins. In Thailand, these and many other 11th and 12th century ruins are termed "Khmer style", but the reality is they were part of the Angkor empire that was dominant in SE Asia for hundreds of years, prior to Thai ascendancy. After a day there, I went south to Phanom Rung, in Buriram, where the Hindu temples sit atop a high hill said to be an extinct volcano; a magnificent avenue and set of wide steps leading to the complex. I went to Surin province and met a local involved in aid to the refugee camps along the border. He offered to take me some 50km south to see more ruins. We passed through Thai army camps and left the rice growing areas, entered a wide stretch of pampas grass then approached the treeline. Individual soldiers, KR in new Chinese uniforms, walked along the track. They were unarmed and heading to their camps in the forest. We arrived at Prasat Bay Kruen, cleared the final, heavily fortified Thai post and arrived at Ta Muen Thom, very close to the Dangrek scarp and in quite dense jungle. We left the vehicle and were advised to only walk on the marked path. We arrived at major ruins covering maybe 50m x 50m, a way-station and temple complex situated on the main route from Angkor to Phimai, then the administrative centre of northern Angkor territory. My guide mentioned there were more structures a bit further on, then announced "Special Tour" and we walked to a clearing with a Thai Border Police camp, ringed with barbed wire. We ventured another 200m, arriving at another camp with huts, a Khmer Rouge camp that was right on the edge of the scarp. We could see Cambodia through the trees, several hundred metres below; it was completely forested. We talked to a KR soldier; he was from Takeo province south of Phnom Penh, homesick but unsure what was happening with the peace initiative. He was also one of Ta Mok's men, Mok the one-legged butcher, a mass murderer, leader of the forces that purged the Eastern Zone and pushed Heng Samrin and Hun Sen into Vietnam in 1978. We visited the grave of a commander whose request was to be buried on Cambodian soil. There were other soldiers around but they stayed away, it was clear we were talking to their leader.
We went back to Thailand and returned to Surin, and the next day I traveled east on a development road deep in Isan and toward the Mekong and Laos. I was heading for Preah Vihear, a set of massive Angkor-era temples built on top of a 500m cliff on the eastern edge of the Dangrek scarp. This scarp is a natural border between Thailand and Cambodia and the difference between the two sides was dramatic; Thailand was developed, agricultural and at peace, Cambodia was forest or jungle, underdeveloped and at war. At Kantaralat, I found a pickup and headed some 30km south through a succession of villages. The bitumen ended and the land began to rise, we came to a checkpoint, then another and passed through 15km of scrub. Finally, at a place called Pha Mor E Daeng, a cleared area where infrastructure had started to appear; a hut, some signs in English and Thai, a rudimentary carpark and a few Thai tourists. No souvenir shops, though, nor any drink stands. I was allowed to walk up to a heavily sandbagged observation point, beyond which were two massive sandstone steles, or pillars, and then to the border. I could see the temples in the distance and the Cambodian flag flying but were not allowed to cross. I wandered to the cliff edge and looked out over slumbering forested Cambodia. As the temples of Preah Vihear, or Phra Vihaan in Thai, are on the top of the scarp and much more accessible from the Thai side, there have been border disputes as to which country held sovereignty; an international ruling and now UNESCO listing of the site has it firmly in Cambodian territory.
I returned to Bangkok and met up with the next group of tourists at the assigned hotel. This second trip was very similar to the one a month earlier, except that Ha Long Bay was closed and so we had two days in Danang and Hue on the way south. This also meant a day trip to the Mekong delta was cut, a relief as that side day-trip was insufficient to see much other than experience hours in a bus on a dangerous highway. Hue was a gem, though much destroyed from the Tet uprising against the Americans two decades earlier. Danang and its beaches were spectacular. After this second tour, we said our goodbyes and I returned to Australia.
In April 1991, I signed on to lead another tour. This time, after meeting the group in Bangkok, we first flew to Ho Chi Minh City. It had been sixteen months since I was last there and the difference was noticeable, with economic activity ramping up a notch; the proliferation of motorbikes and cars make the streets noisy and dangerous. We then flew direct to Siem Reap and had three days there. Not only were Angkor and Bayon open, but visits on the Petit and Grand Circuits were possible. Only Banteay Srey, some 30 Km to the north, was inaccessible. We visited the Rolous group, early 8th Century temples some 20km west and took a boat ride on the lake, passing scenic villages on the way. More tourists visited, backpackers were beginning to appear, several guides spoke English, buses were airconditioned.
Phnom Penh was also changing, the Russians had left, the possibility of a lasting peace was becoming more likely. Those that had fled as refugees were beginning to return. Hotels and restaurants had opened and group travel limitations had recently been dropped. Our group visited the usual sites, a museum of genocide is hardly an attraction, then we returned to HCM and on by plane to Danang. A new place had opened, Hoi An, and everyone perceived this as an authentic experience, with our visit there before mass tourism descended. Danang milked its American war connection but seemed pushy with touts starting to make the experience unpleasant. Hue had more charm and interest. We were treated to some significant cultural experiences such as a salon featuring authentic folk music and artistry, including the most famous singer in the country. The history revolves around the citadel, the pagodas and mausoleums, and its river setting is magical. We also made a 50km drive into the mountains and close to the Lao border to see sections of the (in)famous Ho Chi Minh Trail. The next leg of the trip was meant to be a highlight but became a nightmare; we had tickets on the express train to Hanoi, sleepers had been booked. However, the train came from Saigon and departed Hue close to midnight. Our berths were occupied, the guard was obstructive, and everyone was more than annoyed. We got crappy 2nd class seats and told to like it or lump it. The group was mutinous. We rolled into the night then most of the next day across the northern Vietnam plain and Red River valley, arriving at Hanoi mid-afternoon, dirty, hungry and grumpy. We did the rounds of Hanoi and a trip to Haiphong and Ha Long Bay, mercifully with an overnight stay. Then to Hanoi and a flight to Laos. The local tourist office was cagey and after the usual visits around Vientiane to the palace, the wats, the river, the market. The news that Luang Prabang was cancelled was met with a groan; insurgency had made the entire region dangerous and most likely the government didn't want us to see any military response. They did offer an alternative, the Plain of Jars. I jumped at it, and we flew there the next day, a brief in-and-out day trip. Scenically, it was just a high plain with a subsistence agriculture and some market towns of little charm. Its attraction was the remoteness and the enigma of the jars, which are thought to be megalithic stone urns used in funerary practices and are scattered across the upland valleys. Few sites were accessible as the entire area was heavily bombed by US forces in the 1960s; the B52s out of Okinawa that didn't achieve their bombing targets over North Vietnam dropped their loads on Laos before flying to bases in Thailand. We were among the first groups to be allowed to visit this area since the mid 1960s.
I was happy to finish up at Bangkok and didn't see a career developing. The experience was hard; the expectations of what is usually a disparate group very tricky to anticipate let alone satisfy. The stand-outs: an American who announced on Day 1, "I don't eat Asian food", the Swede who kept a diary of sexual conquests by country (he was too early by a year or so), the German who wanted to eat every exotic forest animal and fish, the flake who sold her Picasso print for the trip and, when I turned her down, accused me of being a Male Chauvinist Pig, the lonely widow who wanted 2 hours of chat a day. The hardest was the American, a Hungarian Jew and tattooed Auschwitz survivor, when we visited Tuol Sleng extermination camp. The nice ones; those that gave $100 tips and those with whom I kept up a correspondence in the years following.
Travel across borders:
1. SYD - BKK 11 Dec 89; BKK - Laos 14 Dec; to Hanoi 19 Dec; Hanoi - SGN; SGN - PNH 25 Dec; Siem Reap; PNH - 27 Dec; BKK 29 Dec 89; NE Thailand solo travel, BKK - Laos 11 Jan 90; to Hanoi 15 Jan; to SGN, arr PHN 22 Jan then Siem Reap; PHN - BKK 25 Jan; BKK - SYD 26 Jan 90
2. SYD - BKK 01 Apr 91; BKK - SGN 04 Apr; Siem Reap, PNH, SGN 10 Apr; Danang, Hue, Hanoi, Laos, arr BKK 24 Apr; BKK - SYD 26 Apr 91.
We settled back in Australia, the kids started school and preschool, and the adults found work. I was contacted by the tour operator and asked if I wanted to lead some groups doing full Indochina tours, at the end of 1989. It was convenient so I agreed. At the time, tourist efforts in Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam were organised along socialist lines, based on the Soviet Intourist model. There was Phnom Penh Tourism, Laos Tourism, Hanoi, Hue & Danang, Ho Chi Minh Tourism. Only groups were allowed and the program tightly scripted, with a local guide on each leg of any tour. I had led tours when I was living in Phnom Penh before but those were only short 7-day, six-night efforts. As conditions eased, it became possible to visit all three Indochinese countries on 14 day tours.
I flew to Bangkok in December 1989, met the group and we headed for Laos. We had a two days in Vientiane doing the sights then off to Luang Prabang by air, any road trip out of the question due to Hmong guerilla activity in the surrounding mountains. As a former capital and site of the Royal Palace before 1975, the town was an eclectic mix of traditional Lao and colonial French buildings. The numerous wats were well-endowed and quite stunning. We took a 15km trip up the Mekong by pirogue to visit the Pak Ou caves, where thousands of Buddhas have been placed. Returning to the capital, we flew to Hanoi. After Laotian informality, the northern Vietnamese were impatient, curt and not particularly welcoming. It was also quite cold. Our guide corralled us from contact with the locals as we visited the Temple of Literature, the lakes, Ho Chi Minh mausoleum, the water puppet show, and skirmished the old quarter and colonial Hanoi. A (very long) day trip to Ha Long Bay followed; not enough time to visit the remoter areas on the boat, was the justified grumble. Next day, our flight South in a crowded Ilyushin-76 started badly; we were late to the airport, the bus sped across the tarmac, we climbed the stairs and the door closed behind us. Still gathered at the entry, the engines roared, the plane taxied to the runway and we were airborne before any of our group had even found seats.
The Saigon Tourist visit list was similar to my visit 18 months earlier; Cu Chi, the war museum, My Tho. Economic activity seemed to have picked up and our group had time to poke around the markets. A range of nightclubs and bars were beginning to open though these closed early and were under scrutiny by the authorities. From the airport we flew to Phnom Penh with a one day trip to Siem Reap. As well as Angkor Wat, this time we were able to visit the Bayon temple and Angkor Thom complex. At Phnom Penh, S-21, the Toul Sleng prison and interrogation centre, had upgraded the displays. The blood on the floor from prisoners being dragged after being tortured to their cells, was fading; it was starkly visible at my first visit in 1986. As well, the Choeng Ek mass graves, where the bodies of murdered S-21 prisoners were dumped, had changed. Unearthed from pits in the ground, the remains of ten thousand of an estimated eighteen thousand victims had been placed in rickety wood and bamboo shelves, blood-soaked clothes, kramas and shoes formed piles all around. In a project for the 10th Anniversary, a massive stupa with perhaps twenty levels was built to hold these victims' bones.
I went with the group back to Bangkok, said farewells and has just under two weeks until the next tour. I headed to the northeast for a bit of solo travel. I caught a bus to Nakhon Ratchasima province and went to the Phimai ruins. In Thailand, these and many other 11th and 12th century ruins are termed "Khmer style", but the reality is they were part of the Angkor empire that was dominant in SE Asia for hundreds of years, prior to Thai ascendancy. After a day there, I went south to Phanom Rung, in Buriram, where the Hindu temples sit atop a high hill said to be an extinct volcano; a magnificent avenue and set of wide steps leading to the complex. I went to Surin province and met a local involved in aid to the refugee camps along the border. He offered to take me some 50km south to see more ruins. We passed through Thai army camps and left the rice growing areas, entered a wide stretch of pampas grass then approached the treeline. Individual soldiers, KR in new Chinese uniforms, walked along the track. They were unarmed and heading to their camps in the forest. We arrived at Prasat Bay Kruen, cleared the final, heavily fortified Thai post and arrived at Ta Muen Thom, very close to the Dangrek scarp and in quite dense jungle. We left the vehicle and were advised to only walk on the marked path. We arrived at major ruins covering maybe 50m x 50m, a way-station and temple complex situated on the main route from Angkor to Phimai, then the administrative centre of northern Angkor territory. My guide mentioned there were more structures a bit further on, then announced "Special Tour" and we walked to a clearing with a Thai Border Police camp, ringed with barbed wire. We ventured another 200m, arriving at another camp with huts, a Khmer Rouge camp that was right on the edge of the scarp. We could see Cambodia through the trees, several hundred metres below; it was completely forested. We talked to a KR soldier; he was from Takeo province south of Phnom Penh, homesick but unsure what was happening with the peace initiative. He was also one of Ta Mok's men, Mok the one-legged butcher, a mass murderer, leader of the forces that purged the Eastern Zone and pushed Heng Samrin and Hun Sen into Vietnam in 1978. We visited the grave of a commander whose request was to be buried on Cambodian soil. There were other soldiers around but they stayed away, it was clear we were talking to their leader.
We went back to Thailand and returned to Surin, and the next day I traveled east on a development road deep in Isan and toward the Mekong and Laos. I was heading for Preah Vihear, a set of massive Angkor-era temples built on top of a 500m cliff on the eastern edge of the Dangrek scarp. This scarp is a natural border between Thailand and Cambodia and the difference between the two sides was dramatic; Thailand was developed, agricultural and at peace, Cambodia was forest or jungle, underdeveloped and at war. At Kantaralat, I found a pickup and headed some 30km south through a succession of villages. The bitumen ended and the land began to rise, we came to a checkpoint, then another and passed through 15km of scrub. Finally, at a place called Pha Mor E Daeng, a cleared area where infrastructure had started to appear; a hut, some signs in English and Thai, a rudimentary carpark and a few Thai tourists. No souvenir shops, though, nor any drink stands. I was allowed to walk up to a heavily sandbagged observation point, beyond which were two massive sandstone steles, or pillars, and then to the border. I could see the temples in the distance and the Cambodian flag flying but were not allowed to cross. I wandered to the cliff edge and looked out over slumbering forested Cambodia. As the temples of Preah Vihear, or Phra Vihaan in Thai, are on the top of the scarp and much more accessible from the Thai side, there have been border disputes as to which country held sovereignty; an international ruling and now UNESCO listing of the site has it firmly in Cambodian territory.
I returned to Bangkok and met up with the next group of tourists at the assigned hotel. This second trip was very similar to the one a month earlier, except that Ha Long Bay was closed and so we had two days in Danang and Hue on the way south. This also meant a day trip to the Mekong delta was cut, a relief as that side day-trip was insufficient to see much other than experience hours in a bus on a dangerous highway. Hue was a gem, though much destroyed from the Tet uprising against the Americans two decades earlier. Danang and its beaches were spectacular. After this second tour, we said our goodbyes and I returned to Australia.
In April 1991, I signed on to lead another tour. This time, after meeting the group in Bangkok, we first flew to Ho Chi Minh City. It had been sixteen months since I was last there and the difference was noticeable, with economic activity ramping up a notch; the proliferation of motorbikes and cars make the streets noisy and dangerous. We then flew direct to Siem Reap and had three days there. Not only were Angkor and Bayon open, but visits on the Petit and Grand Circuits were possible. Only Banteay Srey, some 30 Km to the north, was inaccessible. We visited the Rolous group, early 8th Century temples some 20km west and took a boat ride on the lake, passing scenic villages on the way. More tourists visited, backpackers were beginning to appear, several guides spoke English, buses were airconditioned.
Phnom Penh was also changing, the Russians had left, the possibility of a lasting peace was becoming more likely. Those that had fled as refugees were beginning to return. Hotels and restaurants had opened and group travel limitations had recently been dropped. Our group visited the usual sites, a museum of genocide is hardly an attraction, then we returned to HCM and on by plane to Danang. A new place had opened, Hoi An, and everyone perceived this as an authentic experience, with our visit there before mass tourism descended. Danang milked its American war connection but seemed pushy with touts starting to make the experience unpleasant. Hue had more charm and interest. We were treated to some significant cultural experiences such as a salon featuring authentic folk music and artistry, including the most famous singer in the country. The history revolves around the citadel, the pagodas and mausoleums, and its river setting is magical. We also made a 50km drive into the mountains and close to the Lao border to see sections of the (in)famous Ho Chi Minh Trail. The next leg of the trip was meant to be a highlight but became a nightmare; we had tickets on the express train to Hanoi, sleepers had been booked. However, the train came from Saigon and departed Hue close to midnight. Our berths were occupied, the guard was obstructive, and everyone was more than annoyed. We got crappy 2nd class seats and told to like it or lump it. The group was mutinous. We rolled into the night then most of the next day across the northern Vietnam plain and Red River valley, arriving at Hanoi mid-afternoon, dirty, hungry and grumpy. We did the rounds of Hanoi and a trip to Haiphong and Ha Long Bay, mercifully with an overnight stay. Then to Hanoi and a flight to Laos. The local tourist office was cagey and after the usual visits around Vientiane to the palace, the wats, the river, the market. The news that Luang Prabang was cancelled was met with a groan; insurgency had made the entire region dangerous and most likely the government didn't want us to see any military response. They did offer an alternative, the Plain of Jars. I jumped at it, and we flew there the next day, a brief in-and-out day trip. Scenically, it was just a high plain with a subsistence agriculture and some market towns of little charm. Its attraction was the remoteness and the enigma of the jars, which are thought to be megalithic stone urns used in funerary practices and are scattered across the upland valleys. Few sites were accessible as the entire area was heavily bombed by US forces in the 1960s; the B52s out of Okinawa that didn't achieve their bombing targets over North Vietnam dropped their loads on Laos before flying to bases in Thailand. We were among the first groups to be allowed to visit this area since the mid 1960s.
I was happy to finish up at Bangkok and didn't see a career developing. The experience was hard; the expectations of what is usually a disparate group very tricky to anticipate let alone satisfy. The stand-outs: an American who announced on Day 1, "I don't eat Asian food", the Swede who kept a diary of sexual conquests by country (he was too early by a year or so), the German who wanted to eat every exotic forest animal and fish, the flake who sold her Picasso print for the trip and, when I turned her down, accused me of being a Male Chauvinist Pig, the lonely widow who wanted 2 hours of chat a day. The hardest was the American, a Hungarian Jew and tattooed Auschwitz survivor, when we visited Tuol Sleng extermination camp. The nice ones; those that gave $100 tips and those with whom I kept up a correspondence in the years following.
Travel across borders:
1. SYD - BKK 11 Dec 89; BKK - Laos 14 Dec; to Hanoi 19 Dec; Hanoi - SGN; SGN - PNH 25 Dec; Siem Reap; PNH - 27 Dec; BKK 29 Dec 89; NE Thailand solo travel, BKK - Laos 11 Jan 90; to Hanoi 15 Jan; to SGN, arr PHN 22 Jan then Siem Reap; PHN - BKK 25 Jan; BKK - SYD 26 Jan 90
2. SYD - BKK 01 Apr 91; BKK - SGN 04 Apr; Siem Reap, PNH, SGN 10 Apr; Danang, Hue, Hanoi, Laos, arr BKK 24 Apr; BKK - SYD 26 Apr 91.
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Before living via Rome airport reached this early morning at 140km/h..taxi driver, not me
2 experiences not to be missed
Free walk in a park among toman aqueducs, 30 min by metro (1.5 € ride)
Parco degli Acquedotti
Take Metro line A exit lucio sestio
2 experiences not to be missed
Free walk in a park among toman aqueducs, 30 min by metro (1.5 € ride)
Parco degli Acquedotti
Take Metro line A exit lucio sestio