Danny's Weblog

2003 Dec 12 [ Fri ]

Overview of Cambodia trip in August 2003

In August 2003 I went from Pattaya in Thailand to Phnom Penh in Cambodia and back, partly for tourism and partly to get a new Thai visa (which can only be done outside Thailand). I made daily notes but did not write them up on the computer till September, so there are many asides which refer to later experiences.

I had previously uploaded the first day of the trip to "poipet1". I'm leaving poipet1 where it is, but putting a copy here.

I'm backdating the files to the nominal date so they don't fill up the main page. You can reach them here. (Remember that this site presents entries in *reverse* chronological order.)

www.panix.com [http://www.panix.com/~dannyw/weblog/Asia/Cambodia/Augtrip/]

After the trip, I also wrote an article about Cambodian teach-yourself books. I failed to upload this for a long time and I've changed my mind on a few thjings, so I've backdated this too (to November).

You can access it here:

www.panix.com [http://www.panix.com/~dannyw/weblog/Asia/Cambodia/cambodianbooks1.html]

I have a number of photos illustrating various points of this trip but they aren't integrated with the text yet. Some of the photos which I have already upload, however, are provided with a short tag which explains a point referred to in the text.

I planned the trip a little casually, largely based on information on the talesofasia.com website.

1. The information I'd gained from talesofasia.com was generally reasonable. I was certainly glad I was prepared for Poi Pet. My only quibble with his suggestions is that I don't think it helps to snarl at people who are just trying to sell you stuff, even if they're trying to rip you off. I think a polite "no thankyou" works better for two reasons. One is that it makes you seem more in control, ie you won't make them think that if they keep pestering you you're going to break down and buy something! The other is that it's just less draining.

2. I was no more impressed by Angkor than I thought I was going to be. Maybe it would have helped if I'd read up on it beforehand, although I had been very undecided prior to the trip whether I was going to bother with that stop at all. Also, having now read up on it a little, it seems that the stuff that interests me most, ie the practical realities of the architecture, is least studied. (I suspect it's easier for blowhards to whiffle about the significance of the saraband in the myth of the monkey gods than come up with a plausible explanation for how anything actually worked.)

3. Cambodia strangely enough seems both less satisfactory and more expensive than Thailand. The only thing that was cheaper and OK was the internet cafe I went to in Phnom Penh. Actually, it occurs to me the books on Cambodian were pretty cheap.

4. The arrangements for getting your Thai visa in PP now are ridiculous. I should of course have checked their website first. As I was under no time pressure it didn't matter to me, but this will hardly be the case for most people. It is not surprising that I saw far fewer farangs here than in Vientiane (although actually, because of the abominable dog-eat-dog pushing and shoving in Vientiane I personally would never go back there, whereas I might go to PP again.)

5. I speak more Thai and Cambodian than most farangs I meet, but I was barely able to get around without disasters. I think it would be a mistake for anyone to try to do this trip without at least several weeks of study of the languages.

6. It's interesting that I've stayed over a year in Thailand with no serious diarrhea, but got it bad enough in a few days in Cambodia that I had to delay my trip by a day. Another reason to travel with friends (and to arrange that each of you eats a different meal). At least figure out how to ask for electrolyte powder (also called salt replacement additive for fluid loss); in case you didn't know, diarrhea causes your balance of "electrolytes", ie sodium and potassium salts, to get out of balance, causing general weakness and malaise which you can easily counteract by drinking this mixture of electrolytes with water. Probably you should ask a good English speaker to buy a packet (with Cambodian for you in advance, and keep it with you so you can feebly wave it later on when you need more.

7. Even in Thailand the provisions for travellers are ludicrously inadequate, and in Cambodia travel is positively scary. Signage, schedules and announcements are all lacking (even if you can read the language). Overbooking routinely turns a strenuous trip into an ordeal. Toilets may be nonexistent or disgusting. Road conditions are impossible to predict.

8. Overall the trip is simply too dangerous to recommend to anyone. At several points noone on earth knew where I was, or expected me, except a driver who must have been aware I was carrying more in cash and valuables than he earned in months. And if we had gone off the road it might have been days before we were found, and I would have had to be airlifted to Thailand. All I could suggest is that you travel as a group of at least three people.

2003 Aug 20 [ Wed ]

2003-08-20

I woke up quite early (0515?) but couldn't get out of bed for a long time. When I went to check out they didn't have 5 USD change for 20 USD. Then I said I needed to get a taxi to the border and they said OK, we'll take you to the market, where there'll be a taxi and we can get change for the 20. On the way the driver spotted a taxi sitting in the taxidriver's driveway and the taxi driver said 200 B; I said OK. I had to tell him to wait for the moto driver to come back with the change as the moto driver had apparently not made that point. The driver was on the right so I guess that means it was a stolen Thai vehicle. When the moto driver came back I forgot to pay him, but he didn't protest. In the hotel they had said that the taxi to the border would be 200 B so maybe he figured the price was inclusive.

There was some kind of mixup at the bridge: I had to pay the 200 B there. I think the driver needed to pay a toll and had no money of his own (hm, where have I heard that before) – well, he didn't ask for any more money later. He also stopped for a fillup at a quaint manual-pump gas station.

0833 I was through customs and back in Thailand. There were few other people going in my direction and I saw no farangs. The border guy seemed to take a long time looking at my papers. I didn't know what to put for my home address and I told the guy I'd been in Thailand for a year and he seemed to laugh and say OK, but when I filled out the form with a Thai home address he wouldn't accept it.

When I came past the border there were no signs to show me where to go, but I could see a parking lot through an entrance on the right and there were some minibuses in there, and the driver said he was going to Trat. He said he was leaving at 0840, which was good for me. The price was 100 B. There were only 4 passengers aboard when we started and I was feeling sorry for the business.

0847 Military checkpoint. They just glanced in and seemed more interested in the other (all nonfarang) passengers than in me. The road got windy and I was feeling a little roadsick.

It occurred to me that foreigners sometimes may know a good word like "embassy" or "passport" but still be very wobbly when you talk to them, so you need to use much more common words back to them than they maybe start off using to you.

0900 Town. The driver turned right off the main road and went around in a tight circle to stop in a side street. Then we all had to transfer to an older, scruffier minibus. The driver wanted to grab my large bag and stick it in the rear but I hung on to it. After a few minutes we were up to 9 passengers. I asked someone if we were in Hat Lek and she replied Hat Lek Khlong Yaai. I saw the 9th passenger seemingly get 40 B change so I guess the fare from here was 60 B. We set off again at 0910.

0931 Stopped in the middle of nowhere to pick up an extra passenger.

0933 Another military checkpoint. Just a glance.

0950 Dropped someone off in the middle of nowhere.

1003 Another checkpoint but this time police. They asked the people in the back to produce their passports; I got mine out but they didn't bother looking at it. They didn't really look at the passports of the other two people either – I think they just wanted to check they weren't Cambodians.

1009 Starting to regret hanging on to the bag. I have to keep it on my knee and it's starting to hurt. Still, there's no security at all for the baggage compartment: even though I'm sitting in the back seat I can't really see what people are doing when the driver opens up the rear door.

1021 Arrive in Trat. No announcement. I recognize the bus station area from a previous trip and get out when the others do (for all I know the minibus continues through Trat). The bus station area is on a main road along one side of the "night" market; the road runs NE/SW. The layout is not as organized as you might expect in Europe or America: the "station" is just an office/ticket area and the buses just park on the street, with little or no signage. The main station is at the SW corner of the market. It's very hard to squeeze out from the back seat of a minibus through the gap in the seats, especially when carrying a large bag. Nobody helped me find the main bus stop which was about 100 yards away. When I enquire there it turns out the bus stop for Pattaya is back the direction I came (bad) but there's another fairly soon (good; I had heard there's only one Pattaya bus and it leaves at 0930). It's due to leave at 1200 from the "big yellow building" (points NW across the street). I bought a Bangkok Post.

I crossed the street and found another bus station, not in a yellow building, but since I hadn't yet seen a yellow building I enquired and they pointed me further NE. I bought the Nation. When I did find the yellow building (actually a photo store) I couldn't see the bus station for a minute or two. It turned out to be set back a little SW from the yellow building. Maybe a Thai would have recognized it as a bus service office but I wouldn't have. I certainly hadn't seen it when I got off the minibus a few minutes before almost opposite.

I tried to buy a ticket but they said they weren't selling tickets until 1130 (huh?). I went back to the previous area where there was a coffee bar and a bathroom and sat reading the paper. It started raining heavily. I called my hotel in Pattaya and checked they had a room.

1141 I got a ticket OK – 120 B. I Spent a little time taking photos; the buses do have cards in the front window saying "Chontaburi" and "Pattaya" in Thai but not in English. They didn't let people on the bus right away so I sat in the waiting room for a while. There's no AC; it was comfortable enough that day but would be a trial in the hot season.

1151 I asked the clerk if we could get on and he said OK. I was the first person on the bus – I think the Thais who sheepishly followed me were never going to ask him. The bus was new and mostly in good shape except that half the seatback trays had snapped off (apparently weak design) leaving sharp brackets pointing out at you as you squeezed into the rather small seats. They do recline and have very comfortable footrests. There's no toilet.

1156 There's some shelf space but it's too shallow for backpacks (or my bag) and anyway it doesn't extend all the way back to where I'm sitting. The AC is loud but not conspicuously effective.

12:00:49 – the bus pulls out.

1208 The conductor came round and tore my tickets, which now I look at them consist of one 100-B and two 10-B tickets.

1221 The bus has blasted loud Thai music so I used my earplugs. (Later it was turned off again.) I reclined my seat and I'm using my inflatable neck pillow so it's quite comfy.

1307 Stopped at a bus station somewhere. There was a rush of passengers getting on board but if I had been ready for it it would have been a good time to rush to the bathroom. We were there for just long enough, but you would have needed to check with the driver in case he pulled away.

1320 It appears you can pay on the bus too.

1348 Another stop. The bus is now full: one person is standing.

1351 We're on road 3 and have just reached the junction with 3433.

1359 Junction with 3377.

1359 Really need to pee.

1407 Stopped at junction with 344 going to Chonburi (at this point 3 is signposted to Rayong)

1415 I asked the conductor when we were due in Pattaya and he said 1630. I also said I needed to go to the bathroom.

It occurred to me that when you're travelling with multiple short intermediate stops you tend not to unpack everything, but this means you don't know if something's missing. This doesn't just mean theft: you may just have left your slippers under the bed or something, and if you know about it you can conveniently replace them before the next stop.

1431 Passed turn for Koh Samet.

1446 Stopped at Rayong Post Office.

1451 Now following signs for Sattahip/Chonburi.

1500 Junction with Road 36. I noticed the conductor was wearing a white shirt with black/gold epaulettes.

1507 Turn for Hayapong Police Station

1515 Junction with 3376

1519 Glimpsed the ocean. I guess we're at Sattahip. Several people in uniform on the bus. (Sattahip is a major naval base a little south of Pattaya.)

1533 A few minutes ago we finally stopped at a highway service station and I could dash out and use the toilet. It took me a long time to finish! There were 6 washbasins and I tried every faucet: none worked. The rain's over and the sun's out.

1541 Saw first sign for Pattaya.

1601 4 people standing now

1618 Arrived at Pattaya Klang. We made several stops in Pattaya before this one and there were no announcements anywhere. My impression is that the system is you push to the front of the bus and speak to the driver or conductor to get him to stop where you need, but this is easier said than done when the bus is so full. Also it probably relies on you being able to see where you are; if you don't know the destination well, or it's nighttime, or if the bus driver doesn't know where you mean, bad things ensue.

2003 Aug 19 [ Tue ]

2003-08-19

I left the hotel and first went to the bank to get some more money – no problems.

Then I went to the Indochine for breakfast. I did not check out of the hotel first. They were a little surprised to see me I guess as I had (unwisely) told them I was leaving that day. When I told them I was going to get a taxi to Hat Lek the waiter (Sophear Pheng) eagerly said he'd get a taxi for me. I thought about it and decided "I know this is going to get screwed up but I'm going to try it for experience". He said he could get one for 60 USD and I agreed. I told him to get the taxi to meet me at the hotel at 1230. I paid him an extra dollar tip on the breakfast, although I assumed he'd extract a cut from the driver.

I hurried back to the hotel in order to get out by 1200. As I was showering there was a repeated urgent knocking on the door. I declined to answer it. When I got out of the shower I could see through the curtain there was still someone there, so I opened the door. It was the hotel manager: he told me the taxi was there. I told him the taxi was early, and finished packing in a big hurry.

When I got down to the office the driver was indeed waiting. I paid for the room and asked about the sim card. To my surprise they did not demand it back, but said I could keep it for another few dollars. They said something about "two weeks" which I did not understand. I said "Do you mean this card is only good for two more weeks?" and they said no. I said "Do you mean you want me to mail it back to you?" and they said no. I was left confused about why they had not wanted to offer this before, but I thought OK – maybe it'll be handy on the trip back to Thailand.

When I got in the taxi the manager of the Indochine was there also, so we went back there. (I don't know why he was there – maybe he had taken a moto over to the market to find the driver.) We were met by Sophear again, and I took a picture. I did think to ask "do we have to go via any ferries? Is there an extra charge?" I was assured that we would not need to use any ferries.

Thinking about all this later, it seems to me that I missed a good opportunity to firm up the details of the trip at this time. I'm not sure why I didn't. I guess partly I was curious what would happen if I played the role of the usual travel victim, and also I was mildly put off by the fact that none of them spoke very good English, so communicating with them was often unsatisfactory – you would ask the same question twice and get two different answers, that sort of thing. Still, looking back on it. I think I should have at least asked "what route will you take? When will we arrive? Where can we stop for food or a bathroom?" These are questions which would not be critical on a road trip in an advanced country, but cannot be ignored in Cambodia, or I guess most other places in Asia and Africa. I think it's probably a good idea to have a map in your hand when you're talking to people about a trip (even though Cambodians will have difficulty reading the English characters on your map; I wish the mapmakers would include at least major location names in Cambodian).

One thing which when I look back on it could have caused far more confusion than it did was when I talked to them about going to "Koh Kong". I now realize that not only is there a town called Koh Kong, that's also the name of an island off the coast, not to mention the name of the entire province! They also asked me where I was going after that, so I guess they were conscious of the ambiguity and checked what I meant as necessary. They also made the point that the border closed at 1700, which was correct and which I had already taken into account (I was not worried because I thought Koh Kong sounded vaguely interesting anyway.)

Another thing I should have done is *ostentatiously* communicated the details of my trip, including the name and license plate of the taxi driver, to a third party. I am not completely helpless when I'm on my own, but maybe I give the impression I am, and I don't want to have to demonstrate any differently.

The driver at first said he wanted 30 USD upfront for gas. I told the Indochine guys that I didn't want to give a large amount of money upfront because I was afraid the driver would dump me. Eventually I said I'd pay 10 USD for gas when we got to a gas station and that seemed OK.

The driver stopped for a while close to the market and some money changed hands. He didn't say what it was about; it may be that there's a taxi mafia in Phnom Penh and he has to pay them every time he exits the city. Alternatively, the drivers don't rent the cars by the week, but by the day as they get customers. He didn't seem too prosperous: his feet were covered in black grime. I had been sitting in the front because I assumed the front would have seatbelts, but when I started trying to belt it up I couldn't make the buckle work. The driver said "no, no!" and seemed to point in the back. I changed seats into the back and tried to make those belts: again no luck. I decided to try the front again and this time managed to make the belt work; the driver seemed surprised. We set off again from the market area and at 1233 he estimated we'd reach Koh Kong (the Cambodia side of Hat Lek) at 1800. At 1244, we passed the entrance to the airport.

1253 Tollbooth. The driver took the "tourist vehicle" lane and paid nothing.

1349 Raining slightly. Getting hillier. Road still perfect. 50-65 mph.

1415 Stopped for gas. Gave him 10 USD.

1425 Turned off the good metalled road for Koh Kong. Road was immediately bumpy and in some sections single-lane. Many large potholes you have to steer around.

1432 Turned R onto a dirt road. No sign. 30 mph.

1440 Arrived at ferry stop.

1442 On ferry. The driver had tried to say something about "ship" before but I didn't understand it. (He tried to say something about "two years" also; it may be that he was Vietnamese and had only been in the country that long.) I had wondered what he was trying to say but my "Practical Cambodian Dictionary" had no entry for ferry and I had foolishly assumed the guys at the Indochine knew what they were talking about. The "ferry" was a ramshackle frame of heavy planks on top of three large rowing boats; two fantail engines were mounted to the boats, and on one side a shack with a green corrugated-metal roof had been erected, where you could buy snacks and a few people could sit out of the rain. There was no pier or visible installation; you drove down the river bank onto two loose planks that the ferry operators laid in the mud to allow the vehicle to (just barely) climb up. If the wheels slip off the planks there is a very expensive noise. Even the surface of the ferry itself has large gaps for the tires to fall into.

1458 Set off. The river was about 400 yds wide. The peculiarly ungainly design of the ferry, a better word for which would be "raft", made it necessary to point well away from our destination to overcome the slight current. I felt that the ferry was a deathtrap and got out of the car and stood next to it in the drizzle. We had to wait a minute or two for another ferry to depart the destination before we could "dock". We drove off without my seeing the driver pay any charge. (I never did see him pay for a ferry.)

I noticed that although the driver was definitely taking the junctions between the road and a bridge very carefully (naturally the road surface was particularly likely to be worn away at that point), he seemed to have no visible consideration for pedestrians; we passed plenty of them and as we weaved across the road, presumably to find the least rutted line but seemingly at random, we several times came I thought unnecessarily close to pedestrians and splashed at least one.

Something else that occurred to me is that when it's raining the potholes fill up with water so you can see their *width* but not their *depth*.

1555 We arrived at another ferry. This time I got the impression that there were two landings operated by two separate ferry businesses; the girl at one landing seemed to wave the driver off and point him to the other one. Again, the river was about 400 yds wide. I observed that there were few signs, at the landing, on the surrounding huts, or on the ferry itself, even in Khmer; they had indeed been almost totally absent over the entire trip.

On this ferry, I noticed them putting chocks against the wheels of the car to prevent it sliding around. The interesting thing was that they were plain (ramped) wood blocks; there was nothing to actually retain them against the planking.

Another thing I noticed was that on a ferry large enough for 4 cars such as ours, they had taken two vehicles on one side. I suppose they don't want to have to reorganize the vehicles once they've driven aboard, but the ferry was certainly listing.

1607 Set off across the river. Left the ferry at the other side at 1613.

1619 Rain turning heavy. Poor visibility. Many huge potholes as bad as anything on the Poi Pet to Siem Reap stretch. 10 mph.

1631 Hilly section; gravel surface; potholes; sharp bends and steep slopes. Something illegible because I tried to write it during potholes. Rain somewhat abating.

1636 Here, the road is clearly washing away; there are many 6 by 6 in channels carved into the road. There is still just barely room to squeeze between them.

1648 Milestone 77. (I should have been noting these before, but I didn't realize they might be the only way investigators would be able to figure out how I died.)

1702 Arrived at another ferry. I was pointed to a bathroom which turned out to be a shack over the river which had a hole in the floor. There was no toilet paper or washing water (fortunately I didn't need any, and I had some with me anyway.) The path to the shack led by the side of a building which was some sort of restaurant; to get around the side of the building meant passing across a sea of mud which might have been some sort of provision for barnyard animals. When I got back to the car I struggled as best I could to clean the mud off my boots before I got back in. It's good to have a supply of Kleenex and some plastic bags with you. I might have made a better job of it if the rain hadn't been blowing in the vehicle as I sat with the door open.

1712 This ferry is a different design, seemingly more organized or designed for the purpose. There was no shed on the side.

1725 Off ferry.

1727 We passed milestone 92.

1739 Sky a little lighter.

1740 Milestone 104. I calculate now we did 12 somethings – presumably km – in 13 minutes, ie about 55 kph. That's amazing considering the still dreadful road surface. I was starting to get worried about nightfall.

1747 marker 110

1808 Another ferry. This was just a km or so after a really nice view over the river valley and woods etc. If I hadn't been so concerned about getting across the hills before nightfall I would have had the driver turn back so I could take a photograph. With the rain and grey skies it actually reminded me of England, especially as the AC was stuck on full and I was really rather chilly. (I had tried to get the driver to shut it off and he waved my hand away with a rueful look.)

1826 Got on ferry. The car slipped a little on the muddy ramp; I started to wonder if the car would push the ferry out into the river instead of climbing up the planks. This ferry was only big enough for two vehicles. No shack. Darkness falling. Like previous ferries, there were kids trying to push snacks, and here they were quite insistent.

1836 Off ferry. Steep hill leading up from the landing, with very deep grooves in the road surface.

1930 (Approx) Arrived in Koh Kong. When we started seeing civilization, with just a little light left, it seemed clear that the driver seemed to want to steer me to a hotel he wanted. I needed to check the LP book, and asked him to stop several times before he cottoned on. Indeed he actually started off again before I was ready. It was fortunate he then stopped when he did because we were right in front of it: the "Koh Pich".

I paid off the driver as agreed, forgetting I had already paid 10 USD for gas. I had been afraid of that happening and I believe it is a common scam; probably if you don't forget they say something like "we agreed 60 USD *plus* the gas – you pay now". On the other hand, I cannot feel too upset about it because it is amazing to me that 60 USD can cover even the wear and tear on the vehicle from a trip like that. I had the same feeling about the Poi Pet trip. The only thing which would change my opinion is if I found out the people at the Indochine had misunderstood my question about "is there an extra charge for taking the ferries?" and thought "jeez, it'll add three hours to the trip but if the guy wants to take the ferries I guess we can do it for the same price". Then I'd like to blow their heads off.

The Koh Pich sounded good in the LP but turned out to be bad for me because it was so far out of town. I detest motos, and walking as little as a km or so in a strange town in the dark, without street lights, signposts or sidewalks, is daunting even for me. There were two young men on the desk there. One was gabby but clueless, the other taciturn and stupid-looking but actually more helpful and with a better vocabulary. I was surprised that their English was better than their Thai considering they were only a few miles from the border and the hotel seemed to have been designed for Thais (eg with a hose on the toilet). I asked them if there was an actual taxi and they stared at each other. There was *no food at all* in the hotel. They offered to go get food for me, but the idea of waiting a long time to pay an inflated price for cold food from a place I wouldn't have dared to enter if I had the chance to look at it kinda put me off. So I bought some beer and Coke to tide me over for the rest of the night (even for that they needed to send someone to get the key to the fridge). I had the impression I was the only guest in perhaps 30 rooms.

The room (112) was OK. It was called a "VIP" room because it had, in addition to AC, hot water. It seemed newly redecorated and was quite clean, but it had some strange details like a timer on the AC (which I didn't realize until it stopped working after a couple of hours) and an odd unreachable loft space above the doorway. There was one large bed which took up most of the space in the small room. The bathroom was the wet-floor type. The TV was mounted very high up for no visible reason; there was a glaring fluorescent at the same height that irritated my eyes, but the only other light was a very dim bedside light. A fan was also provided; not a ceiling fan but mounted on the wall. There was no balcony. The window looked out directly onto the hotel sign and the glow was quite bright through the thin curtain. There were two chairs and a large fridge, but it was completely empty, without even water. The cable was not bad.

2003 Aug 18 [ Mon ]

2003-08-18

Last night I dreamed I was in a diner when I noticed a coffemaker was overheating. I suggested to the cook he should turn off the microwave oven next to it, but he said that wasn't on. I grew alarmed and ran outside, where I hid under a ledge in a gully. There was some sort of nuclear explosion or war. I wandered around for days as people suffered radiation poisoning. Months or years later (in the dream) I was apparently one of very few fertile men, so I was required to have sex as much as possible with even marginally-fertile women, many of whom were disfigured.

This must have been the day I picked up the visa at the Thai visa section. No particular problems.

I hadn't really thought about it, but I was again low on money so I needed to go to the bank. It was rather late however when I left the visa section, so I decided to get the money the next day.

I went to the Internet cafe on St 130 again. I arrived at 1309 and left at 1413, and paid 1400 riel, about 0.35 USD.

I had dinner at the Chequers bar again. As well as talking to Paul, the owner, and his wife Bophaa, I spoke to his two waitresses, Oan (slim and tall) and Thierrii (very hispanic looking, not very Asian at all). Amao showed up later and I got her email address – actually her sister's address.

2003 Aug 17 [ Sun ]

2003-08-17

I've been eating breakfast at the Indochine 2 on street 130. A full breakfast is 5 USD. I like their tea "Bontea 100% pure Ceylon Tea Gold Blend".

I also checked out their adjoining hotel. Same prices in high season. 15 USD for small (windowless) clean AC room, 20 USD for double w window.

Reading the Bangkok Post I noted a few useful terms in Thai (their transliteration): "kin tam nam" "grass eating" – police taking bribes from non-criminals; "kin tuan nam" "meat eating" – police taking bribes from criminals (including victimless crimes)

More Cambodia study with Amao. For instance, "suck cock" is "tan sua". (I hasten to add this was a theoretical discussion!)

2003 Aug 14 [ Thu ]

2003-08-14

I again chose to walk to the visa section. I had only a vague idea of where it was, but I was pretty sure I could follow the route I'd taken on the motorbike, so when I got to Mao-Tse-Toung Blvd I took a right and then first left.

At the guardpost I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, but he just waved me on. I continued south to the end of the street and saw the usual huddle of applicants to the east.

I arrived at 0755. There was no clear sign of what one was supposed to do but I joined the queue, on the assumption it was to get a number. A few minutes later I arrived at the window. There were two workstations of which only one was occupied. It was very hard to communicate through the glass. I was asked to show my passport; I think the reason for this is so that people don't queue up to get a number and then offer to sell it. (Later I saw that part of my passport number was written on the slip.) I asked "do I need to provide a copy of the passport?" and she said no, you need two pictures plus cash. Note that they say they only accept USD, not riel or baht. A tourist visa was 15 USD for single entry. I happened to have that with me, though I had been intending to pay in baht. Also, I had exact change – I suspect that people offering a 20 USD bill would have been offered no change. She gave me two copies of the form.

I needed to put down a "permanent addr", a little difficult for me as I have been living in hotels for so long. What to say for "date of previous visits" was a little unclear; I put the date of last departure. For "duration of proposed stay" I put "double entry" and for "proposed addr in Thailand" I put the name of the hotel. The boxes "local guarantor and addr" and "guarantor and addr in Thailand" I left blank. For "travelling by" I put "bus" (which was basically true except as far as I know none of the buses go *through* the border, so you wind up walking anyway).

I got talking to a Scot called John (if I remember rightly), one of the few genuine businessmen in Pattaya. Unlike the fake kind he didn't know what to do and had been given some wrong advice, and was very unsure about what kind of visa he was supposed to be applying for. He had arrived around 0715 and got number 011 (the sign said they start giving out numbers at 0730). Later I observed his number was called at 0837. (They call out the numbers in blocks of say 4 or 6 at a time). He was the only other farang for most of the time. There were about 50 non-farangs standing around, but it wasn't clear which were applicants and which were taxi drivers. Also, some of them had dozens of passports with them (which makes it seem like the queue has stopped moving).

Having arrived at 0755 I got number 077.

0856 – called 030

0906 – called 035

0911 – called 042

I noticed that there were no signs at the entrance saying Thai Visa Section or whatever. About all that could be made out was the Thai flag, but it was behind a high wall and could only be seen if you were looking in that direction right outside the compound.

I didn't note the time my number was called, but I was through in just a couple of minutes at 0959. She refused my request for double entry and said single entry only. I asked why and she said "you're a tourist so why do you need double entry". I didn't bother arguing. What really griped me was that she told me to come back on Monday at 1500. Today was Thursday, so this was maximally inconvenient! I asked her why not tomorrow, and she didn't answer. She gave me a small form noting my passport number and giving the date and time to claim the passport. Before I left John came out of the office; apparently he had had some sort of interview inside. He said he'd been advised to get a single-entry non-resident visa and then apply again inside Thailand. His slip had the same pickup date and time as mine.

As I was leaving I checked for the name of the road, where it joined Norodom Blvd. All I could spot was a small partially-defaced blue sign on the southern side of the street saying "V. SAMDEGH CHAKRE NHIEK TIOU LONG" )in Western characters). On the map it appears to be street 432. I think it's the first street going W from Norodom, south of Mao Tse Toung Blvd. The street is just south of a large imposing compound with a big "Cambodia People's Party" sign. (There are many, many such signs on many buildings, but I got the impression this was one of their actual strongholds.)

I now realized that I didn't really have enough money for the period through Monday, and I had just handed over my passport. I consulted the LP guide and went to the National Bank. They have a real ATM but it turned out to accept only MasterCard and not Visa (and a sign said it only accepted smartcards, not plain old magstripe cards). They pointed me vaguely to the Cambodia Commercial bank (their instructions, in good English, were "go that way (N), then first left and it's on the corner"). After wandering round in the heat for a while it transpired they must have meant "go N to the traffic light and it's at that intersection on the left".

Cambodia Commercial charged me 300 USD and paid me 294 (they said that was 2% but it's actually slightly more). The lack of the passport was no real problem as they accepted my US driver's license. They wanted a permanent addr and I told them I'd been living in Thailand for a year so I gave them a hotel addr there.

I noticed there was a sign saying they accept MasterCard also. They have a small external Bureau de Change storefront too, but the guard waved me past it into the lobby; presumably they only operate that outside regular business hours. (I was happy enough to go into the air conditioning instead of having to line up outside in the sun.)

This is maybe not the right place for the following but I had this thought today so I'm going to note it down here. It's about Occam's razor – "entities are not to be multiplied without necessity" (I think "entitia non sine necessitate multiplicanda sunt"). This was applied eg in astronomy, where Newton's ellipses were preferred on grounds of simplicity to the increasingly baroque epicycle theory. However, the more I think about it, the more it seems to me that this judgement tends to rely on a qualitative measure of simplicity. Ideally one can certainly see that if one theory requires you to posit A and B, and another theory only requires A, the latter theory is preferable. But in many real cases one routinely compares something like "the world is held up by a giant tortoise… or is a giant sphere spinning and endlessly falling in a vast space with asteroids and superstrings and stuff…" What bothers me is that we have routinely maintained a sort of linear view of simplicity. This was shattered a few years ago by chaos theory, which showed that even very simple linear systems could occasionally show chaotic behavior. In a way, every time an unmanned spacecraft is sent out to explore the solar system and saves energy by exploiting a complex path skipping from one planet to the next to take advantage of their gravity wells, that acts as an illustration of such effects. But now we have an even more powerful contrary view of simplicity: software. If for instance the universe is being generated by a computational process, then it would be trivially easy to stop generating the universe at (say) the boundaries of the solar system, and it would actually be a considerable increase in simplicity when compared with computing the entire universe. In a computational system, simplicity would correspond to the number of entities which need to be tracked, their degrees of freedom, and the precision with which their values need to be measured (ie entropy).

It reminds me of a SQL course I took a few years ago. Being an old fogey I am keenly aware of storage and cycle requirements, and how many algorithms can require temporary amounts of both which are much greater than you would think. But the course was being taught by people who had come to SQL via mathematics, and the examples they gave used algebra which ignored the computational cost of the process. Indeed SQL is *supposed* to be like that: it's "non-procedural". But I just couldn't help noticing that their examples implied that you would need to create and examine *vast* numbers of intermediate results, so I kept assuming that I was misunderstanding them. (Many years before, I had had a somewhat related problem understanding what a syllogism really is: it seemed to me that in order to know "all Greeks are liars" you need to have *already* established that Sophocles is a liar, so you can't really call that a conclusion.)

Anyhow, it seems to me that if you allow *computational* simplicity to be part of Occam's criterion it paralyzes your ability to use it. There was a good sf story about 20 years ago about human explorers observing a remote planet which was in a roughly mediaeval stage of development. They realized that one of the aliens was a genius who was clearly on the point of formulating Newton's laws. The problem was that the humans were deploying any number of gadgets which were based on *post-Newtonian* principles. If they didn't prevent him from analyzing their gadgetry, they risked causing him to doubt his reasoning, and thus retard the alien's civilization for a hundred years.

But if we try to use the computational simplicity criterion it makes logical reasoning impossible. We are already seeing this sort of problem in young people who have grown up with video games. They have learned that "if you have stolen the red rose the dragon cannot fly to the second parapet". But these links are entirely arbitrary. They have learned to experiment, but they have been taught that the relationships are *impossible to predict*, so it is pointless trying to waste your time discovering principles. They are living in the universe of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer".

Getting back to Cambodia: I think I went to the Indochine restaurant on street 130 and met Amao again for breakfast.

(855-23) 211 525

Fax (855-23) 211 787

indochinehtl@camnet.com.kh

#28-30 St 130, Sangkhat Phsar Kanda 1, Khan Daun Penh.

They open for breakfast at 0600. The manager's name is Milan. The food is OK and the layout is comfortable. It doesn't have air conditioning though, and it has a strange practice of showing videos about the Pol Pot era in the evenings. I strictly avoided it at those times.

Next door there is a new hotel. The rooms looked OK but the cheap singles are quite small and have no window! Also, they have wet bathrooms. And it's quite a bit more expensive than the Cathay. They do have larger rooms with window for a bit extra.

We took a tuk-tuk to a bookstore, just S of the Palace:

The London Book Centre

(023) 214 258

House #51

St 240

POB 1404, Phnom Penh, Cambodia

I asked Amao what would be a reasonable fee for the driver and she said 2000 riel.

The owner is an English guy called Jerry Walter; he's a friend of Amao's. The stock is mostly used books. I spoke to Jerry for several minutes. He's candid about his stock and says things like "this one's out of date now". He had several copies of the Lonely Planet guide and said they were often copied, sometimes obviously, sometimes not (like katoeys in Pattaya); sometimes they appeared absolutely perfect, except that the touristy color photos on the inside were completely different. He pointed out that my LP book (which I always carried with me) was out of date so I bought one he said was up to date (and I think it turned out to be).

He also said that textbooks sent as charitable gifts to the Cambodian people were often immediately recycled in the markets. He said an NGO person had told him they were well aware of this and saw it as a part of the distribution system (but one hopes all the books don't immediately fly back to the West in backpacks).

He had a small but useful set of books on the Cambodian language. In particular he had "Modern Spoken Cambodian" by Huffman, which I bought for a few dollars.

I told him I was planning to head back to Thailand via Hat Lek and he said the road through the hills was now OK and he recommended it for the scenery. He suggested going to the Central Market and finding a driver there. He warned me that the border closes early so I would need to set off from PP early.

2003 Aug 13 [ Wed ]

2003-08-13

Today I planned to go to the Thai embassy, but although I woke up very early I thought I should take it easy, and tried to go back to sleep. This turned out to be an expensive mistake.

I also did not want to experiment with the motos, so I set off on foot. I thought I was under no time pressure, so I did not bother to check the local setup on the Internet before looking at the map, and I just set off towards what was marked as the Thai Embassy on the map. This was spectacularly stupid considering that I was well aware that the existing building had been sacked a few months before by a mob. I was vaguely assuming, I suppose, that I would get there and there would be a nice sign in several languages directing me to the new building.

I did not take time to go to breakfast, but I did drop off some laundry at a little place just north of Chequers.

The walk was not too bad. It was hot, but at that time of day quite bearable, especially under my umbrella. I must have been accosted by moto drivers at least forty times. I basically just went W to Norodom Blvd, and followed it south to the location of the Thai Embassy shown in LP. By staying on the east side of the road, I was mostly in the shade. My only detour was when I saw Monument Books on the west side of the road; I remembered the name because it was stamped on English-language newspapers. I went in and it was large, airconditioned, with a large selection of books as well as several newspapers, although the staff kindly pointed out they were yesterday's and I should come back after 10 am for today's.

I also noted a T-shirt printing shop on the east side.

When I arrived where the Thai embassy was supposed to be, however, I was completely lost. There were a couple of large installations which looked like embassies, but I could see no signs. Eventually, much against my will, I decided to get a moto. He said something about "have to go this road, turn left", which I didn't really understand, and we set off north again back to the main road. As usual on a motorbike I quaked with fear as he weaved through traffic. Then we turned left onto Mao Tse Toung, then first left again. We reached some sort of guardpost and were waved through, continued south, then turned left again, and found the expected huddle of visa seekers in the street.

After staring at the incomprehensible notice board (it was in English but I still didn't understand what they were getting at) someone told me you have to get a number to get in, and they had already stopped giving out numbers (I got there just before 10 am). Phooey, I said.

Many motos again competed for my business, but I had a pretty good idea where I was, and walked east a hundred yards to the end of the block. This turned out to be Norodom Blvd, almost exactly across from where I had flagged down the moto! To be fair to him, I suppose he was saying it was hard to make the turn there, which was why he had driven the circuitous route. On the other hand crossing the road on foot was no big deal, and in fact made me much less frightened than being on a moto. It would also have saved me a buck. Oh well.

I slogged back on foot to Chequers.

I think this was the day I was detained. I was following side streets going north, west of Norodom. On one side street I noticed several people standing around with AKs and wondered why. There were no signs. As I continued north, I saw the US flag in a compound to the west of the street, and when I reached a little intersection I turned around and started to take a picture. As soon as I raised the camera I became aware that somebody inside the compound was waving at me. I paused and lowered the camera. A few seconds later someone ran up to me and detained me. He took me back to what I now realized was a guard post, a table set up on the sidewalk with some chairs, next to a soda seller. After a couple of minutes someone showed up who could speak English. I didn't argue, but I made the point that there were no signs. This seemed to make no impression (I have since formed the opinion that the Cambodian People's Party is one of the very few organizations in Cambodia which dare to put signs on their buildings). He checked my passport (good thing I still had it on me – I don't know what would have happened if I had just handed it over at the Thai visa section) and then asked me to wait. I sat down and had a soda. A few minutes later he said I could go.

The whole experience was a little strange. I wasn't afraid, and I also wasn't aggrieved when I was talking to them, but the whole thing made me sad. Do Americans know that their diplomatic buildings in Cambodia, a close ally, are surrounded by armed guards, and *not even identified*? It reminds me of Washington DC, where the FBI operated a building close to where I worked, but there were no signs on the building. You could tell what it was only because there were usually several big sleek black SUVs drawn up outside with small decals saying things like "Department of the Treasury". And because there was no sign on it. What's the definition of the term "secret police", anyway?

I think on the way from there I went in a phone shop and asked them how to get a simcard; they said I needed to provide them with a letter giving a reason for why I needed it, but they said the only significant thing on the letter was it needed to give my real address, so I should ask my hotel for that. They showed me a sample letter and were very helpful, so I gave them a dollar for their time as I figured I would probably wind up getting the simcard close to the hotel.

I think I had the Chequers pizza this time, and it was good. I also asked Bopha (Paul's wife) if she knew someone with very good English to give me some Cambodian lessons, and she said her younger sister Amao could speak very good English.

At the hotel I asked them about getting a simcard. They said OK: it was 10 USD and they would charge me 15 USD (ie an extra 5 USD). They said I also needed to buy time, so I said get 10 USD. They also said they wanted it back when I left the country, which I thought was a little strange (can you tell how bad a negotiator I am?) but I said go for it. They sent off the girl and said it would just be a few minutes. It took her a long time to get back, and I don't know what the heck they were trying to say about what the issue was. At any rate, when I put the simcard in it worked, at least after I put it in the main position of my two-card card adapter.

2003 Aug 12 [ Tue ]

2003-08-12

I got up in good time and had no trouble packing and getting down to the lobby just before 0530. I asked them to prepare the bill and went into the dining room. I was surprised to find the tables already laid out with continental breakfasts and not a single place free for me to sit down. Also, there was no sign of a waitress. After waiting a couple of minutes I leaned into the kitchen window and asked for eggs and bacon; they fluttered around and after another minute or two someone came out and took my order.

I paid the bill, forgetting to check whether they had gipped me on the first pre-paid night. We left the hotel at 0604. As we set off I asked the driver's name and he said Piseth – the same as the guy before. I recognized the name but wasn't sure about the face, but presumably it was the same guy. Sheesh. How embarrassing.

The road was fine for the first 10 or 15 mins as we passed a lot of little shacks and bamboo huts, but then the shacks petered out and there were only bamboo huts, and then the dwellings we passed started looking more and more improvised. There were a lot of naked kids. I had the impression Cambodian were early risers.

We got to the boat at 0640. I was going to say "got to the wharf" but that would dignify it. It was a track, at the end of which vehicles were drawn up and some stalls sold food and trinkets, and beggars strove to look simultaneously pitiful and vaguely menacing. I had no idea where I was going, but the driver just motioned me forward, so I pressed on through the throng, trying to look as though I knew where all my possessions were at all times. The boat itself looked OK, but to reach it we had to cross a muddy stream by stepping across narrow, rickety, spongy planks partially submerged in the water. I wondered what would do if I overbalanced with my bags. I also wondered what people with real luggage would do. I suppose the driver would be able to help, but what would two retirees with several large cases do? People with shoes that weren't intended for mud?

The hotel had booked me on the "Chann Na Express Boat", and a nice color photo was shown on the ticket itself. I was prepared for this to be a lie, but indeed that was the very boat, and looked perfectly serviceable. I had heard that you need to grab your seat or it will be taken because they overbook, so I immediately sat down in B23, and remained there throughout. Thus I did not explore the upper deck or anywhere else; I'm told the upper deck is fun for a few minutes, especially when you're close to shore, but you can get sunburn and even windburn, and it's actually quite unsafe because there is no proper decking and there are no proper handrails. I saw no sign of a bathroom.

The boat filled till about half the seats were taken. I got the impression they allocate seats starting towards the front, but putting blocks of people towards the rear. If the boat started to sink, you would definitely want to be close to the exits, of which there are only two, roughly in the middle; I was about 6 rows back from the exits and I was a little panicky. There were about 12 rows behind me. The windows look like solid plexiglas and impossible to kick open unless you're Van Damme. Before we set off a guy came round and checked and returned my ticket. We set off at 0708.

I started reading up on hotels in the LP guide and decided I'd try the Cathay first. The guide made it seem fairly well organized.

For the first few minutes we passed very close to houseboats. By "close" I mean that part of the boat scraped past the bracket holding up one of the windows, or walls, of one boat, and I thought we were going to tear it off. (The houseboats seemed to have walls which could be folded up on a hinge along the top, providing shade and ventilation during the day or privacy at night.) These people too seemed to be just waking up, but they seemed unfazed by the boat's presence and several smiled and waved.

When I had gotten in the boat it seemed to be airconditioned, but while we were under way the doors were left open, and the cabin gradually became warmer, although not uncomfortably so, thanks to the strong breeze. We seemed to be going quite fast, perhaps 20 or 30 knots.

I was seated next to another farang, who said he'd come up the other way from Phnom Penh on a different boat which was much less comfortable, but after we had chatted for a while he said he was going out on deck and I never saw him again. Families whose male relatives never returned from Cambodia are invited to enquire.

Around 1030 the boat slowed to perhaps 5 or ten knots, and we were met by a jitney which pulled alongside as we were still underway, and one or two farangs got off into it with their luggage; the jitney rapidly peeled away back to shore. For me this was one of the most interesting things about the trip, partly because it was so unexpected. I seldom travel by boat, and was under the impression this manoeuvre was too dangerous except under battle conditions. Additionally, there seemed to be no equipment for it. There were no railings, there was no gangplank, and the deck was slippery. Anyone who fell off would stand a good chance of being crushed between the boats and/or being chewed up by the propeller. It actually reminded me a lot of the sort of thing you'd see involving a biplane and a dirigible in "Boy's Own Paper" in the thirties – "Commander Cody's Lost Planet Airmen".

At 1230 we passed under the big Chruoy-Changvar bridge, and by 1240 I was out on the dock. (I don't remember seeing any baggage coming out of any sort of hold area; I got the impression you have to carry it with you, which is not a welcome idea with the narrow seating.) Here there was indeed a dock, and organization in the form of iron fences, but no way to figure out which way to go, although dozens of touts and motos were eager to "help". Motos seemed to be streaming out to to the right (north), but someone saw me dithering and motioned me to the left, and (still with a total absence of signs in any language) I finally found an exit through the fencing to the east.

I was using the "Asia Books Nelles Maps Vietnam Laos Cambodia 1:1 500 000" map, which includes a small street map of PP. It shows a "Boat Terminal", which indeed seems to correspond to where we landed. I just checked against the "Periplus Cambodia Travel Map 2002/2003 Edition" which shows "Boats to Siem Reap, Kracheh" way north of the bridge, the "Phnom Penh Port" south of it, and "Small Boat Rental and Municipal Ferry Landing" where we landed. At a guess, different boats dock at different locations, depending on phase of the moon and whim.

With the aid of the map, I was able to walk to the hotel in just a few minutes, a good thing considering the weight of the bags. I was carrying a bag that could be adapted as a backpack in case I needed to cover a longer distance, and started considering doing that after a few minutes. The problem is that street signs are small, missing, rusty, out of date (many in French!) and/or in Cambodian. The huge saving grace is that the streets also have numbers, odd numbers N/S and even numbers E/W, so by going an extra block or two you can usually figure out your location. My compass helped. (On the other hand, many of the streets are not actually very aligned with the primary axes.)

I arrived at the Cathay after a little extra confusion because the LP guide does not make it very clear which side of a block the main entrance of a location is on. This is forgivable considering the scale of their maps, but I still wish they'd make an extra effort. When I saw the entrance, it didn't really look like a hotel entrance; it looked more like a small massage parlor. (There actually *is* a massage parlor underneath the rooms, but it has a separate, much more impressive entrance. It may be that recently the massage parlor's star has been rising and the hotel's has been sinking.)

The room (202) was quite large, and had a reasonably effective AC. The entrance was up two floors, via a rather quaint, attractive balcony which went past all the rooms. (It occurs to me I should have tried hanging out on the balcony, at least in the evening when it was cooler.) There were three comfortable, slightly tatty armchairs as well as a dining-style chair and a low table. There was a fridge, but there was nothing in it but bottled water. There was a bathroom with a toilet and a real bathtub, but the fan could not be made to work. There was a large, attractive closet. The two beds had clean, comfortable bedclothes. There was no phone, but I decided it was well worth the 13 USD.

I schlepped up my bags and kicked back. That was when I discovered the remote did not work. When I went back down to Reception and grumbled, the clerk made the slightly odd remark "well maybe a Sony remote doesn't work with that brand of TV". We trooped back up and he established that indeed the Sony remote didn't work with that brand of TV. We both stared into space for a minute. I said "Is there a room where the remote *does* work?" He allowed that there might be, but said that that TV was older and didn't get so many channels. I said "Bring it". They brought it and it basically worked and got several English-language channels, so I accepted it – I don't know what channels I was missing out on, but who can watch TV without a remote these days?

There was no TP in the bathroom but that did not bother me as I had brought my own. (Later I found TP and soap behind the TV. It may be that it did not show up until they got my tip the next day.) The bathroom tile was a little grimy but not too bad. Overall there was an impression of wear and neglect, except for the all-important bedclothes. (Later I got the impression the hotel was mainly used for short-time.)

The door has no chain and no spyhole, and the lock was a weak, loose doorknob type, but there was a somewhat adequate bolt.

Feeling reasonably secure, I redistributed my possessions so that I had a walking bag again. I packed it with my umbrella, my Cambodian books, a plastic raincape, my mosquito goop, and my small bag containing bits and pieces. I was still wearing my moneybelt; my camera was inside the bag clipped to my belt on the left side, and my phone, which still only had a Thai simcard, was in the bag (I did not want to leave anything valuable in the room).

I went out with no particular destination in mind. A couple of blocks away I found the "Chequers" bar on 130. This has an Australian theme as it is run by an Australian expat (Paul) with his Cambodian wife. Paul said try the riverfront for English-language newspapers and he was right; I went along street 130 to the river and turned south, and within a couple of blocks I found a newspaper seller, who had a rumpled copy (probably used) of today's Bangkok Post for 1.50 USD. I sat on the riverfront for a while. It was a much more restful spot than anything I can imagine in Thailand, with no stationary vendors on the wide walkway, well-tended grass, and a comfortable, clean parapet to sit on. I think I tried a restaurant along the river but it was mediocre.

2003 Aug 11 [ Mon ]

2003-08-11

I was sick for only a short time last night and I was actually awake in time to take the boat if I had chosen, but I thought that would be a foolish risk considering how unexpected and acute the illness had been; I also felt rather worn out, and chose to take another day in Siem Reap. I rebooked the boat; I had to pay for the boat again, but they said there was no charge for the car.

Today the girl I'd studied with the previous day didn't seem to to be around, so I battened on the girl in the dining room instead, also called Therrii. She knew some Thai so I could ask her about the differences.

A couple of things occurred to me about why the drivers use their horns so much when they pass people: not only is the road full of potholes so they wobble, but also many vehicles are LHD from Thailand.

I could be wrong, but I don't think people In Cambodia fit amplified mufflers on their motorbikes, unlike the Thais.

I think it was today I sought out a bookstore, where I found the "Practical Cambodian Dictionary" by David Smyth from Tuttle. No, I think I had bought that before, and today I found Smyth's "Colloquial Cambodian".

I went back to the place I burned the CD at: "Five Star Internet" (kan_visakha at hotmail). I didn't really pay much attention to prices but it seemed cheaper than Thailand. Again I didn't take the time to write up my notes on my website.

2003 Aug 10 [ Sun ]

2003-08-10

The exchange rate, I finally figured out, is 4000 rial to the dollar. You are probably thinking "what a loser - why didn't he just check the exchange rate in the paper?" The answer is because the rial is what's technically known as "non-convertible" - ie, nobody wants to buy it, so there is no meaningful trading value. So you won't find a value in the paper.

You'd naively think that you could figure out the value by comparing the dollar value of your change with the rials you receive. This is more difficult than you'd think, because you often get a mixture of US currency and rials in the change, and by the time you've finished scrabbling the money together you've forgotten the amount. But worse, you can't expect them to give you the full nominal value in the change, right? Actually, in Cambodia, it seems you can. I never found a case where I was given less than (or more than) the equivalent of 4000 R per dollar. I suppose the reason is that they never have to change dollars into riel just to use them, so they never need to pay transaction fees.

You may be unsurprised to learn that I was quite Angkor-ed out after a single day. This was my plan; being lazy however I intended to linger in Siem Reap a little while. At the hotel I intended to plan the trip to Phnom Penh the next day. I had read that the trip to Battambang was not very easy either by road or river (and the road trip or rail trip from Battambang to Phnom Penh is also not good), so although Battambang sounded OK I wanted to go directly to Phnom Penh. The road trip from Siem Reap is very bad, so I thought I'd try the river trip. According to LP the dry season drops the water levels enough so you may be restricted to fast but very uncomfortable small boats, but I was there in the rainy season so I thought I should be OK.

The hotel said the ticket was 25 USD, which I had heard was standard (at least for foreigners) so I said sure. They said the ticket price includes minibus pickup at 0530, but since the boat leaves at 0700 and the dock is only 6 km from the town I figured I could do better with a private car. They seemed surprised but said OK, the hotel car would be 5 USD, and they would knock off a buck from the boat ticket because I wasn't using the minibus. The downside was the car pickup was still 0600, but I went with the flow. The boat was due to arrive in PP at 1230. The hotel said I could get breakfast at 0530, no problem.

I also wanted to find someone to help me with Cambodia, look for a CD-burning shop again, look for Cambodian-language textbooks and maps, think about money, check cost of the visa for Thailand and how long it would take, and look into the cost of a Vietnam visa (I had brought a LP Vietnam book with me but hadn't really read it).

When I asked about help with Cambodian, one of the girls called Therrii, who works on reception, said she'd help me. (I later discovered there's another girl who works in the dining room who has the same name.) I didn't know how much to offer her and she said vaguely "pay me what you think".

Like most people she did not seem to have a very analytical view of her own language. (On the other hand it occurs to me that I simply ignore whatever plan my teachers might have had in mind for me and pepper them with my own questions, so I can hardly blame them.)

A few highlights:

The question tone is the same as English.

There are several vowel sounds which are very difficult for me to reproduce. They also cause problems for textbooks, which represent them in very different ways, causing extra confusion. For instance, the word for "go", sometimes transliterated as "dae", or "dtou", or "tuh-oo". To me it sounded a little bit like a Thai "eu" with a falling tone, but I could see from watching Therrii closely that her jaw moved only down and up during this vowel, and there was a slight "click" to the sound which suggested the tongue was doing something essential which I could not see.

I asked her if there was a rule for which syllable is stressed. I think she understood what the term "stress" means, but after considering the issue she said she did not think there was a useful rule about where it comes. (In textbooks I have seen that the final syllable should be stressed, like in Thai.)

Although "politeness" words like "baat" exist, they are used much less than in Thai.

Numbers are frequently pronounced like "five two" for 52 (not in most books but perhaps more frequently heard than the book form).

She said it's important to include the pronoun, not like Thai. (The books say the pronoun is usually omitted, like Thai; maybe the answer is you can omit it like the Bush family does in English, but it's much more normal to include it than it would sound in Thai.)

I asked her about the word for "thing", because one book showed it as "raboh" and another is "robah". She emphatically said "robah" was correct. Later I'm pretty sure I heard it as "raboh" too. Perhaps it's some sort of dialect issue. It may also have something to do with the difference between English and American vowel sounds.

You don't seem to need quantifiers as much as Thai. In particular, you don't need them when you're ordering in a restaurant. So you can say things like "khnyohm dtreuw gaa Heineken bpii".

People seem to use and understand "bontohp deuk" ("room water", like the Thai "hoang naam") for "bathroom" ie "toilet" much more readily than "bong goo-un", recommended in all the books.

Today I formed a few opinions:

People seem to have more dress sense than the Thais - eg, they don't mix bright and pastel colors, they pick a line for the shirt or blouse that matches the line of the lower garment, etc etc.

There is less tendency to occupy every inch of the sidewalk with hawkers and cheap food.

People seem to squat less. When I mentioned this to others they laughed at me, but I'm as sure as I can be without a scientific test. My guess is that due to the French influence even quite poor Cambodians are used to European-style non-squat toilets (although I might add squat toilets actually survive to this day in many cafes in France, weirdly enough) and are therefore as uncomfortable in the squatting position as Europeans.

Sidewalks are probably a bit less tidy/clean than Thailand. This will make anyone laugh who has tried to overcome a Thai sidewalk, but I think it's true. The difference is that the Thais cover their sidewalks with everyday trash, whereas the Cambodians seem to leave mostly construction trash – forever.

The sidewalks were not blocked with motorbike rental operations (probably because foreigners are prohibited from renting them).

It was very apparent that people had nicer smiles than Thailand. This impression may well be because I am used to Pattaya, which is a get-rich-quick Nevada kind of place, and if I spent all my town in Hicksville, Thailand, I would think differently. Still I got a very nice smile from lots of people, especially little children, every day, and I don't remember that in Nong Khai any more than in Pattaya.

People speak better English than in Thailand. This is probably because Thai has so many weird rules of pronunciation (eg a final "L" has to be pronounced "N") which they seem unable to ignore in English (a very interesting research project actually).

The tuk-tuks definitely go slower than the motos which is *good*.

The red dirt is copious (I usually noted a ring of grime on my leg just above sock level) but does not feel toxic, unlike Thai dirt.

I looked around for hookers a little but did not feel comfortable. I'm sure any of the motos would have been happy to arrange an introduction.

I think I went to a small Internet caf‚ today and burned a CDRW with the Siem Reap photos. The guy said "are you sure you know what you're doing?" and I brushed him off angrily, but it turns out that Windows XP has a CD-burning utility which is clever enough to tag the files you want to copy to the CD, but not clever enough to warn you what it's really doing, so since I was tagging files on removable media it didn't work very well. Fortunately I didn't delete the files off the memory chips till I checked the burn. Also, fortunately, when someone else had asked for help previously I did not screw up his files, because on general principles I copied *his* files to HD first. (He said he was from Wales, but his accent sure didn't sound Welsh. Also, he refused to join in even the chorus of "Men of Harlech".) Another issue with XP was that with files waiting to be burned on the CD, I couldn't figure out how to read the *current* contents of the CD in the drive!

It didn't help the reputation of white people among the Khmer that I had to ask the manager guy for help on using his USB card reader, and it turned out I was putting the chips in upside down. That's because I was inserting them label up, like every other card reader, not label down, the way this card reader needs. Sheesh.

I went to bed planning an early rise. At 0324 I had acute diarrhea so bad I practically collapsed in the bathroom. I called the desk and cancelled the trip. I don't know what might have caused it; that day I had tried a sweet biscuit from a local confectioner's, which is quite unusual for me. I also had had an ice cream from a local supermarket, but it showed no sign of melting.

2003 Aug 09 [ Sat ]

2003-08-09

Last night

I wandered round Siem Reap, going north to the main road, west for about a kilometre then east. Several places were quite expensive, for no apparent reason: at one, the cheapest room was over 100 USD. Eventually I found the Angkor Sapphir, who had a room for 25 USD, although they warned me they did not have a room for the next night. (The LP guide lists them as more expensive than they were charging me.) They gave me a free car ride back to the Ivy, but unbelievably this driver couldn't find the Ivy either: we wandered round for a long time, like with the driver from Poi Pet. I paid the Ivy the 8 USD: I suppose I should have argued for a refund, but the heck with it.

The room (301) was OK: two beds, European bathroom. There's no lift so the third floor was a bit of a slog. The bathtub had a shower hose but no way of attaching it and no shower curtain, so I had to squat down to avoid getting water all over the floor (my entire motivation for wanting a room with a tub), but that's OK. The hot water came from a water heater in the bathroom; both the hot and cold flows were minimal and the nozzle was largely blocked with scale, resulting in an effect similar to a girl peeing. The temperature was OK and the water was clear, at least after the first few seconds. I paid in advance for the room, without them asking; I wasn't sure why I did that; I guess I was wondering if they would try to gip me later.

Today

In the morning the hotel changed me to room 212, with a single bed for 20 USD. This was a smaller room but with the same basic standards. The view was not so good, looking out on some sort of water plant next to the hotel. I got the impression there was a continuous pump motor sound from the plant, but maybe it was just the sound of the AC. (It seems that all AC systems in Cambodia are US-style shove-in-the-wall units, not like the noise-outside, pipe-to-the-inside kind standard in Thailand.)

I asked the hotel to set up a motorized threewheeler (called a Tuk-Tuk here, although not quite like the version in Bangkok) ride around Angkor for me: 12 USD. (The driver later said I should have walked outside the hotel and arranged the trip myself for 8 USD. ) The driver's name was Piseth, using a green motorbike; the rear of these vehicles seems to look indistinguishable.

We set off rather late to the ruins, around 1015 - I hadn't read any of the guides other than skimming through the Lonely Planet section, and it turns out one should ideally plan on arriving at different sites at different times, starting at dawn. I was happy with my choice of vehicle; it was cool enough in the breeze as the vehicle puttered along, and the three-wheelers seem to generally move more sedately than the motorbikes. The trip took longer than I was expecting from the map.

At the entrance to the ruins there is a plaza similar to highway tollbooths. The driver stopped in line and I sat there vaguely expecting to lean out of the vehicle to pay when we passed the booth, but instead after a puzzled look the driver motioned me over to step out and pay at the booth while he waited. Instead of saying "You want ticket how many day?" (they have various deals for 1 day and up) they asked me some sort of unexpected question - something like "you stay Angkor how long?" I said "one day". This seemed to cause consternation and muttering. With a very serious look, the guy said something like "can not make four day! Can not!" I said "sure, whatever". (I guess they get a lot of people who decide they want to stay longer - or maybe they just want to make you think that.) As I exited the booth I asked the driver if I could take a couple of shots and he obliged. I was actually thinking that if I had a photo of him and the vehicle I would be able to identify them easier.

The Angkor complex consists of many separate temples over several kilometers. We went first to Angkor Wat itself (pronounced "Ung-gaw Wo-ut", not like Thai), the largest in area, accessed via a long causeway across a lake. Across from the entrance is a huddle of food sellers, moto drivers waiting for their customers to return, and a few shacks offering drinks and food. Thankfully, they are kept away from the actual ruins. (In general, Cambodia seems less tawdry than Thailand, but quite possibly they would match Thailand if they had the chance.)

The ruins (thanks to the lack of signage combined with my lack of effort to find out anything about Angkor in advance - anybody who reads this and is aware of the actual accepted explanation is entitled to a titter at my expense) seemed utterly inscrutable. Nothing seems to have any purpose other than decoration. Around the buildings runs some sort of corridor or gallery with large windows, but with doorways whose thresholds are a foot above the level of the gallery. Staring at the wall of the galleries I thought I could see a faint line of discoloration at roughly the level of the thresholds, suggesting that there had been some sort of floor originally installed at that level (so that the thresholds would be no obstacle), although there was no sign of mounting holes, lips or the like, and I could think of no particular reason why the design would have required anything other than a stone floor.

I could make out no area which seemed to be designed for use as a bathroom. Surely the noblemen could not have been expected to walk all the way to the surrounding townships (which are vaguely described in the guides, but seem to have held many thousands of people). Perhaps there were no bathrooms; perhaps servants brought flasks or pitchers or bowls which were then discreetly removed, or perhaps everyone just peed in the lake. I could also make out no areas for use as kitchens, or dining areas, or stables.

The strongest impression was something out of the Doom "first-person shooter" video game (or one of its descendants), and that is not by any means a flippant remark. It has occurred to me that the graphics designers for these games actually studied photographs of these and similar (Mayan) ruins. In addition, for some reason the designers of Angkor chose to limit themselves to an architectural vocabulary which corresponds to the limitations of early Doom level design: very perpendicular layouts, only one usable (reachable) height at any location, bulgingly massive decor poorly matched to human scale, and highly repetitious rectilinear elements used for the walls and columns. In addition, there is only natural lighting provided at Angkor, so the illumination inside the buildings was soft and diffuse (reflected sunlight bounced off the walls) in the same sourceless look that early Doom-type games needed to use before more advanced video cards were introduced that could handle multiple illumination sources.

A further similarity, of course, is that you don't know where they hid the bathrooms in Doom, either.

(Another thing that just occurred to me is that there are several peculiar little courtyards which are inset below what seems to be the main pedestrian level. They remind me very much of the pools that you fall into in Doom and have to swim around in till you find the stairs leading up again - especially because no other purpose is apparent.)

I chatted to an English chap sitting in one of the galleries who seemed a little more starry-eyed than me about Angkor, but it turned out that although he was working for some sort of international aid agency in Cambodia he had not heard of Angkor till he showed up in the country, and he had no more idea about the practical realities of the place than I did.

As I exited the driver suggested I get lunch, and pointed me to one of the huddle of little restaurants. His favorite turned out to be not the more modern-looking one on the right that seems to have AC. I allowed myself to be steered as an experiment, and indeed the food turned out to be no good, as well as rather expensive. I did not investigate the bathroom. (Perhaps they have no bathroom, in the ancient Khmer style.) A lot of kids trying to sell junk hung out around the restaurants, although there seems to be no love lost between them and the restaurant operators, who occasionally waved them away. The building has no walls on three sides, so as I chose a seat at the edge of the building the kids could continue to offer their trinkets as I ate, or more accurately nibbled at the rice while wondering what the nameless gristle that was supposed to be meat really was. As a further experiment I started to get money out for one kid's postcards, and immediately the others detected it and started to press in. Judging what would happen if I were to actually buy anything, I went no further.

We set off to the next location, the "Bayon", or royal palace. Generally, many of the ruins seem like nothing more than a jumble of rocks put together like a jigsaw puzzle. In some cases that is particularly apparent: there is a causeway leading to the Bayon which is lined by statues, but many of these seem like a random pile of stone blocks as delicately modelled as a snowman. The guides caution you not to remove a single pebble from the ruins because in essence the ruins still lie where they fell, awaiting the arrival of researchers who can piece evrything back together. In the case of these statues, they appear to have been reassembled by teenage kids on crack.

Something which is very notable is that practically every block, whether in the flooring or walls, seems to have several deep holes in it. It would make some amount of sense if these blocks were used in some way to assemble the buildings, but the holes seem too roughly made and irregular to make that likely. My guess is that everything, including the floors, was finished with some sort of cladding, perhaps some sort of plaster or wood, which was retained to the stone with iron pegs which have since rusted away. There are several things wrong with that theory, too. One is that there is no sign of the plaster: you would think that some of it would have survived somewhere. Another is that in many locations there is ornamentation which is clearly intended to be seen, at the same level as the holes. Perhaps the cladding was applied well after the original construction; and perhaps it was either valuable, and thus worth carting off as soon as the society collapsed, or fast-rotting (eg wood). (Since writing this I have read that the cladding was bronze, which makes sense.)

In the Bayon there were several locals who had set up some sort of little devotional areas. It was not clear to me that they have any sort of official role, but presumably they are tolerated by the management, who are not very much in evidence but did warn me not to sit on a parapet at one point. (There are several signs, but they are not everywhere; also, they say "do not sit on the railing" not "do not sit on any of the railings".) I got the impression these "monks" (male and female) would have liked me to give them a donation, but in the absence of any evidence that they were more than flim-flam men I simply avoided them, although they were irritatingly roosting inside the most interesting-looking chambers and they and their stuff made it impossible to look around properly.

One of the teenagers who seemed to be in charge was playing a pocket computer game (not I think Doom), and the feeps and pzings echoed out across the Bayon. I looked down from my current level, and there was some sort of narrow passageway running all around the level, hardly wide anough for a single person to walk around comfortably. Perhaps this was for the toilet-pitcher holders.

It was very hot in the sun. I was glad I had brought my umbrella with me, although I was perhaps the only one of hundreds there who dared to show off my lack of cool by using one. The shade is pleasant enough and there was often a breeze, sometimes enough to flip my hat. I was happy I had worn shoes not sandals for several reasons: there is a lot of broken ground which can twist your ankle or make your foot slip out of a sandal; the omnipresent dust; the toestubbing rocks that will send a sandal wearer to the hospital twice a day; the steep stairs. I had no trouble with mosquitoes, although indeed I did use some deet.

I think it was at the Bayon that I made the mistake of starting up one of those steep stairways. I viewed it merely as exercise initially, but when I reached the top I realized that there was simply no safe way to get down such steep stairs. (I have frequently had dreams in which such dilemmas face me.) Shamefacedly I approached some other tourists who pointed me to another stairway on the other side, about equally steep but with a rickety iron handrail which allowed me to get down again. Before leaving the top I took a snap of a hot-air ballon rising in the distance, and looked curiously at the crew of Cambodians trying to use a theodolite. At the bottom of the stairs I wanted to use an exit, but there was a small sign saying "do not use". I waved at one of the workers on the scaffolding above the exit, and he waved me on, although the scaffolding was a little hard to get through and I thought I should probably have obeyed the sign.

As I exited the Bayon it was tough to find the tuk-tuk. He had let me out at one entrance and pointed vaguely to another corner. Despite carrying a compass, I exited at the wrong side, which is particularly easy to do because basically all the sides look alike. Fortunately I figured out the issue and with the help of the compass reached the correct side, but was still unable to make out my driver. Any help the photo might have offered was negated by the distance and the jumble of people and vehicles. Eventually I started walking round the large area of tuk-tuks, motorbikes, trees and stalls until the driver spotted me and approached. At one point somebody soundlessly pointed me in the direction of my driver - I don't know how he knew who I was looking for. Perhaps I look more distinctive, or loopier, than I thought (it now occurs to me the umbrella probably helped).

I think I asked the driver at this point what the holes in the stone blocks were for: he immediately said he had no idea. This was the only historical fact I bothered asking him about the whole day. I decided to go to Ta Prohm, the ruin that's been left overgrown.

On the path into Ta Prohm there was a small band of about ten musicians, playing some sort of Cambodian music. I don't have any appreciation of Cambodian music, but I gave them a tiny donation and hurried on. I grew surprisingly tearful because somehow they reminded me of the Pol Pot era, and how the Communists had tried to eradicate traditions of all kinds. Thinking about it now, I suppose the Communists would say the people should own the means of production and shouldn't have to play useless music to tug at the heartstrings of rich foreigners. Certainly I found it very hard to be actually impressed with Angkor, simply because it seems so monstrously, absurdly wasteful of human talents and industry. It stands today because it was so overdesigned that it withstood centuries of total neglect, and because it was so useless that nobody could be bothered to steal it (something like the US space program). It is inscrutable, he said having not taken the trouble to actually check what people do know about it, precisely because it is so sublimely useless that there is no logic to it whatsoever. Angkor is, in its own way, an even more pathetic reflection of its ruling class than "Ozymandias".

At Ta Prohm there were again no signs. (I later read that there are snakes in some of the tumbled corridors, and that the presence of tumbled rocks in the corridors should be taken as a sign that another rock may tumble from the ceiling onto your noggin at any time.) I essayed an amble across the grass (which has been cleared just like the other locations). For a moment I tried to sit a little away from the other tourists and try to imbibe some peace, and maybe pick up the aura of deep time, but I was unsuccessful (as usual when I try something New-Agey). I did notice that after I had remained still for a time, the crickets (or frogs or whatever the heck they were) close to my perch started up again.

The striking thing about Ta Prohm is that offhand it doesn't look that different from the other locations. The only real difference is that several very large trees have been left organically intertwined with the stonework. This reminded me more of Giger's artwork for the movie "Alien" than Doom.

As I was gazing at the trees a couple of youths approached me and offered to take me to the big stone head. I have, as you may have, a vague memory of seeing this in photos and I wanted to see it, but I declined their offer. For one thing I didn't want to have to make the effort to negotiate about it, and for another thing (although I didn't really think about this clearly until later) it's not a good idea to go off alone with a bunch of people you don't know to a place where nobody knows you're going. I continued wandering round and never found the head, although I did find a surprisingly large area of peaceful grassy banks without anyone in sight. The only blot on this area was a pile of trash as if someone had taken a bag of trash and scattered it, mostly consisting of spoiled Polaroid snaps (perhaps fifty or so).

Checking (in my usual desultory way) the LP guide I decided to head back to Angkor Wat. The clouds were looking very dark by this time and the driver pointed to them and said "raining!" in English. I said (in my stumbling Khmer) "rain, you ok?" and he allowed that he was. (He could easily wait under cover if necessary.)

As I crossed the causeway it occurred to me that a causeway is an extremely bad place to be in a thunderstorm. I could see what looked like a lightning rod on one of the buildings, but nothing to protect people walking along the causeway. I ran most of the distance, arriving a few minutes before the storm started. I went just a little way into the buildings and then picked out a perch that looked like I could stay dry. As the rain picked up, becoming torrential, I was joined by many more tourists; next to me there happened to be a group of disabled people.

Studying the rain made me see once again how impractical all the design was. One of the guards was apparently caught on one of the galleries which was too narrow to really protect him; by edging along the wall he was able to stay mostly dry, but the sheet of water coming down from the roof of the gallery left his trouser legs soaked. How could anybody design a building so badly? The storm lasted only half an hour, but included several impressively loud lightning strikes.

After the storm I checked out one of the side buildings. There were few other people around, and I heard a loud sound of water. I was curious whether I could figure out something about the design of the building and approached over the sodden grass. There were apparently drainage ditches in the grass, but I could not figure out where the water was actually going to. Perhaps it drains into the adjoining lakes somehow, or did before 500 years of silt were deposited.

I had the driver take me back into town, not the hotel. I gave him a small tip. I wanted to tell him "if you had suggested a good place to eat instead of somewhere that serves farangs fried turtle spleens, I would have paid you a much better tip" but that would have exceeded my abilities in Khmer, so I just let him go.

I stopped in at an Internet cafe: www.ecafe.net.kh. It has a nice storefront and has a brochure offering to write CDs, but when I asked they said they didn't do that now. They have W98 machines with no CD drive, and when they boot they log in to an NT server which sets up a policy which prevents a bunch of things, making the machines hard to use. I wound up having to use a web interface to get my email, and did not feel like writing all this up on my website.

I note that today's info represents 6 pages of handwritten notes in my little pocket notepad; about 3350 words, about 5 hrs to transcribe. I have a total of 88 pages to do, of which I have now done 9, so I need 79/6 x 5, ie about 65 hrs. yeesh.

2003 Aug 08 [ Fri ]

From Pattaya to Siem Reap 2003-08-08

1. The minibus showed up promptly but my bag was immediately stashed in the back. This was somewhat fair as the bus was nearly full and the bag was large, but on the other hand I had been assuming I'd have everything in it easilt available, so when we picked up the next guy I hopped out and grabbed a couple of necessary things like a blow-up neck rest. (Of course you never think of everything you need – I had also intended to have my map of Thailand available to check what route we were taking, but nooo...)

2. We made excellent time, arriving 1110, dep my doorstep 0705. I think previously we'd arrived around 1130. The ride wqas quite smooth, no obvious speeding.

3. I was one day late leaving Thailand according to my previous Thai visa, so I was sent to the "overstay" desk. Unfortunately there were two people working it, and not only did there seem to be pointless duplication of effort, but they made it imp[ossible to maintain an orderly line, so I was pushed aside several times while I waited for action. After signing several inscrutable documents in Thai I paid my 200 B and left.

4. On the other side, the guide seemed to have gotten in a complete muddle. He went around several times checking who all his customers were.

5. Then he announced that apparently one of the passports had not been provided with a 1000-baht note for the Cambodian visa, so that guy was now stuck in nomansland unless we (the other customers) had a whip-round! I guess the other customers contributed; as I wasn't planning to return to Pattaya I kept silent. I had always thought that the principle of having no money with you because of the pickpockets was highly liable to lead to disaster, though not a disaster which the visa-run company would really care about. I had never had a strip with such serious problems before. Eventually I saw the other guys starting to straggle over to the Cambodian entry office, looking confused; I ran after them and found the guide, and was able to extract my passport from him with an apparently valid Cambodian visa, so I proceeded through the border.

6. As promised, the traffic circle was a confused nightmare. It was unclear who anybody was or what the deal was. I remembered "dtae dtae"but was unsure about the pronunciation (and it turned out later I was right to be) but tried "psaa psaa"and it worked.

7. On the other hand, we seemed to go quite a long way, probably 2 km, and turned down a street which led afer say 200 m to a large market area – ie, not the parking area on the R which I had tried to look out for.

8. The driver turned r at the edge of the market, then turned r again at the next edge, going slower and slower as i guess he realized I didn't actually know where I wanted. About halfway back towards the main road i spotted a bunch of Camrys drawn up on the L and said "ti nih" and he stopped happily, and seemed to wait until I was finished negotiating (because I hadn't paid him yet, it now occurs to me).

9. There was a n\bunch of five or ten people all close to me. I was concerned about pickpockets and found it hard to concentrate. I said (in Thai) "bpai Siem Reap 1000 baht". They said "2000". They kept repeating that and then i started *dropping* my price: 900, 800, 700... We stared at each other. Then I said "1100". A woman leaped at this and she set off across the street to a parking lot. This was where her husband (quote-unquote) was sleeping in a reasonable-condiotion Camry. At this point I realized i had not positively negotiated how many people were going to be in the car, but finally gave in. Time around 1205.

10. After we had gotten in, the wife arranged a large toy in one seat. I was a little grumbly about that, but when we encountered a large group of what seemed to be touts i was glad that there was clearly no seat free for a tout to jump into. (I wondered if the toy was a ploy, but later it looked like they actually delivered it for somebody). We did not run into the mob show of touts, or any army/police checkpoints where money seemed to change hands, on the trip.

11. Close to Poi Pet the road was metalled and clear, but soon the surfgace turned to sand with innumerable potholes. At one point the driver had to maneouvre round an imperiously large pig, too.

12. I soon became aware that the driver was beeping more often than not when he passed any driver. Thinking about it later they probably formed this habit becaause the traffic he is about to overtake may wobble for several reasons: potholes puddles, worn-out suspension, LHD vehicles stolen from Thailand, etc etc.

13. In I guess Sisophon I got trransferred to another taxi. I was ready to grumble but they did not demand payment in advance and the car was about the same, maybe better, so I restrained my Fist of Death.

14. The only weird thing about the other driver was that he needed to stop for gas just outside town, and he had alit cigarette in his had as he helped steady the open container of gasoline that was being poured into his tank.

15. At that stop he bought a bottle of water and abottle of beer. I wasn't sure what he meant when he showed them to me but I could use some water so I took it. The water was lukewarm (I concluded later that the Cambodians seem much less worried about keeping drinks cool than the Thais, who themselves can be pretty lackadaisical). I wasn't sure if it was free with the trip or what so I gave him 5 baht, which he seemed unimpressed with and later gave ostetatiously to a small child who was officating in some way at a partially collapsed bridge.

16. It occurred to me I don't have much of a way of identifying these drivers, for good or ill. I didn't see any taxi numbers on the outisde or inside of the cars; of course the people themselves all look alike.

17. Although there were stretches where our speed exceeded 100 kph, for much of the trip it was 30 kph, and in some streches it was barely walking pace. The road is dead flat and mostly the water in the surrounding fields was less than a meter from the height of the road. (Also, the road had no camber.)

18. At 1505 the road abruptly switched to metalled again. The first sign of covilization was a large billboard advertising Nikon cameras. At 1530 we met the road coming from Siem Reap airport. After the driver started going slower and slower I realized he did not in fact have any idea where the Ivy Guest House was. Eventually we found it after we had driven round in circles several times and I had to point it out to him on the LP map. (I think LP really should adopt the practice of identifying which side of a block a location has its frontage.)

19. The Ivy has no AC rooms, but I was tired and felt like I needed something immediately, so I invested 8 USD. The room was airless, with a closed window. The fan control knob was misset so it took me a long time to figure out how to turn it off. The window did turn out to be openable, but the catch to retain each half was broken on the right. I left it flapping, hoping the aging mosquito screen would hold the fort. I did not "christen"the bathroom, but it looked all right. The bed on the othjer hand looked awful, like a flophouse, lumpy, with a worn, sweaty-feeling single sheet over a plain foam mattress, and an inadequately-sized coverlet. I left to explore for another hotel, noting that the door panel had been prised away around the lock so that the door could easily be pried open. Oh well; a thief would be disappointed with the contents of my bag, I hoped.

20. The interior of the Ivy has no ceiling: you can look up from the stairs directly at the roof and the beams. The staris are narrow and steep. The dark colours and inadequate lighting gave it a "Nightmare on Elm St" feel which was surprisingly affecting.

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