Kingdom of Wonder: Battambang Part 1

"I have never sensed life - through eyes and ears, through nose, tongue, hands and heart - more fully than I have in Cambodia. Sounds and colors, tastes and smells explode..."
-Karen J. Coates, Cambodia Now

We struggle putting into words the love we feel for Cambodia, or the reasons inspiring our affection. At the end of many days here, Nick and I have lied in bed attempting to conjure the words to describe our feelings about this place. So far the words have eluded us. Its visceral. The only conclusion we can make is that Cambodia is a living paradox - a world shrouded in irony and contrasts that cannot be intellectualized. What is sensed here bypasses the brain and grabs hold of the spirit.

The Sun must also feel the pull of Cambodia as it spreads its rays across the country to say good morning. Every evening however, its face reddens at having to part and passionately retires with a promise of tomorrow's reunion.

We were lucky enough to catch one of these early morning reunions in Phnom Penh while waiting for our bus to Battambang.





Our hotel in Battambang was ridiculous with hand-carved Khmer furniture and art.










Battambang means disappearing stick. Our tuk-tuk driver Samath told us the story a peasant who had a magic stick he used to stir rice to feed many people. When he stirred the rice, it turned black, so he hid the rice by eating it. The black rice made him very strong, allowing him to overthrow the king and become king himself. Eventually the original king returns to reclaim the throne and the peasant throws his magic stick at him, but the gods cause the stick to miss, and he is defeated. The stick then disappeared.


We hired Samath to take us out for the day on his tuk-tuk. Just as we passed the Battambang statue, his tuk-tuk sputtered and died at the side of the road. Here he is calling his friend John to come pick us up. Although visibly disappointed, Samath tried to laugh about the situation saying, "No work for 10 days, and now when I have a job, my tuk-tuk breaks."





We tried to put on a happy face, too, and we made plans to take a tour with Samath the following day if he could get his motorbike fixed.










We headed South with John. After returning from our trip we couldn't believe we forgot to get a picture with him. He had the most dazzling white teeth. His smile reminded us of Joe Cartwright's.








First stop, the bamboo train, where we intended to save $5 each by looking only. This member of the tourist police was persuasive, however, and we decided we better take this cultural opportunity before it is replaced by an international railway. By the way, John is pictured here in the background wearing a blue shirt on the left. Check out those choppers.





The bamboo train is a bamboo platform on two sets of wheels powered by a six-horsepower electric engine. At one point it was a traditional railway but now locals use these "lorries" as means for passenger and cargo transport. A trip between Battambang and Phnom Penh (6 hours by bus), takes ten days by bamboo train. It's usually used for shorter distances.






Our senior "engineer." Most drivers we saw were were in their teens or younger.










Two 13ish boys disassembling their bamboo train to let ours pass.

There's only one track, with multiple cars going in opposing directions. When two trains meet the train with the lighter load is unloaded and taken apart to allow the heavier one to pass. The whole process takes about 1 minute or less depending on the load.





Contrary to their meager horsepower, these suckers rock and roll along a warped and bumpy track at 25mph. One rider stated, "It would be a white-knuckle ride, if there was anything to hold onto!"



At the "train station" where we stopped we visited a brick factory. There were 1, 600,000 bricks in storage. The workers produce 7000 a day, four at a time, using one mold! Each brick brings in only 2.5 cents.








Workers dig clay from the field, process it through a mold, cut it and then allow the unbaked bricks to dry.










Rice husks are used as fuel for the kiln.












During the baking process the bricks take on their striking red hue.















Ash surrounds the kiln and storage buildings, also made from (you guessed it) brick.















We made it back to the station safely, and John drove us to our next destination where we ascended by foot to the killing cave and a hilltop temple.









We enjoyed spectacular views along the way. Nick was thankful for his new scarf, protecting the back of his neck and his...forehead from the sun.










The Khmer Rouge brought enslaved laborers to the edge of this cave, murdered them, and then threw them in. Some of them were still alive.














Along the way to the cave we were joined by two sixteen year old students wanting to practice their English with us. They accompanied us for about an hour, asking us some questions, and keeping us on the right track.

Notice the hand-holding. In Southeast Asia, same-sex touching is a common way to show friendship. We laugh when we recall homophobic male buddies at American movie theaters sitting with a seat between them, munching separate bags of popcorn.



























In the main temple a monk invited us to sit and talk with him. He built and runs a school for poor and orphaned children at the bottom of the hill.

Sitting with us was a scantily dressed female traveler (big no-no in temples) who was looking to have her "fortune" interpreted using the book on the golden tray. We giggled when the monk interpreted her "fortune" from the page she randomly chose using the wooden stick. A loose summary of his reading: "You are a peacock and therefore vulnerable. While traveling it is important to show respect at all times, or else you may be in danger." She was so excited about her reading and was gushing about how she was thinking of traveling as she chose her card. Meanwhile her low cut spaghetti strapped tank top was barely encasing her...feathers.

Speaking of feathers, wait, no. Nick has not changed his opinion of monkeys. Furry jerks they remain.










I was indifferent about monkeys, until this one scurried in my direction harboring indisputably malice intent. To be fair, he was spooked by a barking dog behind me, but still, furry jerks they are indeed.








More cool views from the hillside.

























Country road, take me home...on second thought, maybe not just yet.











Nick looked a little creepy, but to his credit, the dust was overwhelmingly thick.











But at least the road was roomy.












Some of the traditional Khmer houses we saw while driving through villages.
























Banan Temple, our next stop, peaking over the trees.











Exactly 355 stairs to the top.

















Nick and I huffing and puffing after our climb. Seems just yesterday we climbed to the top of the Bank of America Tower in Seattle. Eek.



Half of Cambodian villages have landmines in and around them. It's been estimated that there are still between four to six million landmines hidden within Cambodian soil. Two people die every day from these remaining weapons and countless others are permanently disfigured. It's important to stay on the path.






Banan Temple ruins.











































This passageway is too small for me. The two monks in the background watched us as we goofed off. They eventually approached, telling Nick they "missed him," to which Nick replied that he missed them too. We are still not sure what they meant by this, but we agreed enthusiastically to their request to practice some English with us.











The monks loved Nick so much, they invited us to move to Phnom Penh and teach them at the University. They also invited us to their home in Phnom Penh, proudly saying, "You're very welcomed in my home." They both entered the monastery over eight years ago. They study many things including English but their main focus is on the Dharma. As we said our goodbyes they told us, "I'm very happy today because I'm happy to know you." We were happy to know them too.



A final glimpse of our new friends.

















On the way back to town John wanted to show us some fruit bats. Bats are gross.












"What is a poet? A poet is a person whose cries of pain come out as beautiful music. Maybe that is a reason to love Cambodia."
-Kierkegaard








This day was one of our favorites of our entire trip. Again, I'm sure we've failed to capture the magic of Cambodia in words or pictures. In our next post we will share about our time with Samath and will attempt to describe some of the contrasts we've encountered here that make Cambodia so magnificent, frustrating, and complex.