Kingdom of Wonder: Battambang Part 2

And so we pick up from where we left off... John drops us safely outside our hotel and steps from his tuk-tuk to phone his unlucky friend and our original driver, Samath, to inquire about the status of his beaten up and broken old tuk-tuk. He hands me the phone.

Samath sounds excited, "Tuk-tuk is working good, all fixed!" We arrange a pick-up time for 8:00 A.M. tomorrow.

The next day, 7:30 a.m. Ty and I eat breakfast in the hotel lobby. Outside the hotel window, we notice Samath shining his red tuk-tuk with a tattered cloth. He looks tired. Ty and I finish our breakfast - "omelet" (eggs fried with onion) inside a toasted baguette. We grab the remaining bread halves and a couple bananas, stuff them into a plastic bag (lunch), and walk out the door to meet Samath.

"Where do you want to go?" Ty and I both noticed he wasn't shining with the same demeanor or enthused tone he spoke with yesterday.

"Anywhere you like," we told him, "you choose."

We should have remembered that in SE Asia, people don't offer recommendations. Of course, we still haven't learned this, and so countless times I've asked wait staff what to order at restaurants. Always the same response - "I don't know, what do you like?"


So was true for Samath, and he was reluctant to make suggestions, but after some subtle encouragement, he finally agreed to take us to some places of his own choosing. We agreed on ten U.S. dollars for the day and off we went effectively ending Samath's eleven-day dry spell!

As his tuk-tuk rumbled along (sounding better yet still not tip-top) Samath told us he, "Had toothache, didn't sleep much last night." I'd be tired too.




As the day went on, though, his spirits seemed to rise with the temperature and his smile returned. The first stop on this improvised "tour" was at some desolate ruins. Ty and I sat literally alone in the ruins. We were impressed at the heroic life sprouting from barren stone. Yet another Cambodian contrast.



At the ruins site, there was also this temple.



























Many temples both in Thailand and Cambodia have linear stories told through paintings on the walls and ceilings.











Ty and I tend to stay pretty quiet in the temples. For some reason, the environment compels a kind of reverential silence. The only sounds as we wandered separately through the empty grounds were from nature: bird calls, rustling wind through tree leaves, the beating of a dragon fly's wings.

Ty was intrigued by these peculiar bits of color placed here on the brick.










We're guessing they're flower buds of some kind. Any botanists out there want to clear up the mystery? Elaine Andersen, you know your flowers, will you tell us what these are?








Here, amid all this peace, stillness, and beauty Samath told us the story of his own family.

Samath was born in 1975 during the first year of the Khmer Rouge reign. He closed his eyes tightly and touched his temple as he spoke, "I was young when they took my father. I can't remember his face." He explained that the Khmer Rouge killed his father because he worked within the former government. Later, they took his mother to a work camp. He assumes she too was eventually murdered.


Through forced smiles and intermittent nervous laughter he continued his story. He explained that he was lucky to be alive, that the Khmer Rouge had planned to kill him too, and that they would have easily succeeded had it had not been for his aunt. She hid and protected him until after the fall of the Khmer Rouge.


"Cambodians survive today amidst the death that haunts their past...Everyone had, everyone has stories of murder."
~Coates.







With each day and each person we meet, Ty and I are finding more truth to this statement. It seems as if every Cambodian person we meet is in some way haunted by darkness. Still, though, such light shines through.

"Yet agony enhances beauty, like the black backdrop for a painted rose."
~Coates




We continued our journey, bumping along down dirt roads and through small villages, in Samath's tuk-tuk trying to shield our mouths from all of the dust in the air (okay, by dust, I mean dirt, lots and lots of dirt). The red earth tints the color of the air and clings to your body, teeth and tongue. You can actually taste Cambodia.

Next, Samath took us to this village where we met this woman making rice paper for spring rolls. She says something to us in Khmer and Samath interprets, "Just rice, she says that rice is the only ingredient. Rice and water."







There are many homes like this one doubling as mini-factories and producing rice paper. But apparently, this one is the best. Restaurant owners travel from all around the area to buy rice paper from this particular family as they've been doing it the longest.








After the rice is heated and water is added, a viscous white liquid is formed. The mixture is then poured onto a hot plate and a pan-lid is placed over the thin liquid for a couple of seconds. After the liquid solidifies into a little disk it is gently peeled off with what looks like a painter's spatula and is placed on the blue colored tubes seen in the initial picture above. They are then suspended in these metal frames to dry in the sun. The frames have a square patterning of wire to hold the paper disks in place. If you've ever bought rice paper in the U.S. you'd notice the distinctive cross-hatch patterning.


After only ten minutes drying time, the now hardened papers are ready to be placed in baskets where they sit until they are sold.

Last year, Ty and I munched some delicious homemade spring rolls with the Hickoks. Mark, I'm not sure what you paid for your papers, but here they sell 100 of them for about a dollar.





We also got to visit this pungent little town where a myriad of villages were busy preserving newly filleted fish meat by drying it in the sun. Have you smelled one fish that has been left in the sun?










Fishing boats catching the seemingly endless supply of river fish.











After putting two or more kilometers between us and the fish, the odor finally faded. You can only imagine our trepidations when Samath suggested another stop and another local delicacy. Unlike the fish, though, this was something we could get into.

"Kao Lam" is sticky rice and black beans grilled in a bamboo tube.






This thin species of the bamboo plant is penetrable by heat and therefore perfect to slow roast rice into a sticky, sweet, moreish, and gooey treat.














After the roasting is finished. The blackened exterior of the bamboo is shaved off. The bamboo (which is naturally sealed in the bottom segment), is perfect "to-go" food. Locals cram a few in their pockets for a portable food source that lasts throughout the day.








Samath showed me how to peel strips of the bamboo away from the rice. What is left after peeling away the sides is a tube of rice encased in a thin, edible, bamboo coating which adds to the flavor and helps it maintain its tube shape even without the wrapper.










After our tasting, it was official: Kao Lam is ranked among som tam, green curry, and rotis, as one of our all time favorites.

Ty wants me to add "Big Sheets" to the list which are pre-packaged processed seaweed sheets. I don't agree with this one.








We shared some of our rice with Samath and then off we went not knowing what the next destination had in store. More villages, more barefoot dirty kids yelling "hello!" in English as we sped by, more tin-roofed shacks, more palms, more purple flowers, more fishermen, more poverty...

A myriad of colors, sounds, smells, and finally, our next stop. Yet another monument built to house the remains of those tormented by the Khmer Rouge.

We've already seen too many heartbreaking monuments like this one. Some are elaborate, some merely makeshift metal crates built to hold skulls and other bones that seem to keep turning up.



Samath and I leaned on the sun-warmed stone and just looked up at all those bones. Neither one of us spoke. Ty walked around the perimeter of the wall taking pictures of all of the carvings.










I find the last line hopeful, but I'm not too sure it will happen any time soon.














The next series of twenty pictures are lengthy (reading them entails clicking each picture to enlarge it) and they are pretty graphic, so you may want to skip them. For us, they painted even further shades of understanding (can you call it an understanding?) to the unimaginable evil which millions of Cambodians like Samath's parents endured. This was the last stop and end to yet another unforgettable day in Battambang.





























































































































Just before leaving, we ran into Samath again and snapped this last photo. He piled our bags in his tuk-tuk and drove us to the bus some several hundred feet away. I un-wadded a dollar from a pocket in my pants and Samath noticed, "No, no! Free, free, for friend."

I write this blog from yet another guesthouse in yet another town, this time, Siem Reap, Cambodia. Yesterday, we wandered around in awe of the fabled Angkor Wat and it was every bit as grandiose and majestic as the guide books insist. Still though, there was something very special about Battambang, and it will linger with us for a long time.

More from us soon,

Nick and Ty