Pushing a Bike up the Himalayas

For reasons that will become clear there only a few photos of this experience.

As we set off on our bikes from Shali Heights we were told that the view would have included snow capped mountains if it had not been raining. I am sure that proficient cyclists will tell you that rain does not really matter as you are using enough energy to keep warm. Unfortunately I am not a proficient cyclist therefore rain matters. Thankfully it did not last too long although showers stopped us drying out properly. The hills here are steep, really steep, far to steep for me to be able to cycle all the way up them. Well it is the Himalayas. Sanjay gave me some basic advice, which amounted to “Slow down, don’t hurry, take the speed from your breathing”. This advice was surprisingly helpful and I coped better once I gave up trying to keep up with Sanjay and Jo.
We cycled down 5k and up 26k. The last 7k was very difficult and I was mostly pushing the bike up the Himalayas with occasional bits of cycling when it was not too steep.
The next day was better. It was sunny and we cold see mountains ( anything under 3000 meters is considered a hill), and it was all downhill.

The view halfway down our cycle. We ended up in the valley floorstyle.  Photo Tom Corban.

When I say downhill I mean downhill Himalaya style. We cycled 37k during which we defended 1750 meters. I made up for pushing the bike up the Himalayas yesterday by chasing it down today. The difference between being in control and not is very small. Dusty roads, boulders, pot holes, cows and the occasional bus or lorry kept the concentration going.

A bit of England.  Photo Tom Corban.

On the way down we passed a christian church. Inseams that an Englishman settled in the village and brought some apples with him. The introduction of apples transformed the local economy and the villagers let him build a church. Most surprising was the stained glass window. It was like stepping into a19th century England.

After the cycle we had the most extraordinary drive of 7 hours along the Tibetan Highway.

Local bus service at Narkanda.  Photo Tom Corban

It was the main trade route with Tibet until the Chinese invaded and the trade stopped. The road is still busy with lorries taking provisions to the villages near the Tibetan border and busses taking children to school and people to work.

Drive from Bithal to Kalpa along the good section of the route. Photo Tom Corban.

The road started well but by the time we had got halfway it could only be described as an off road experience. At one stage we passed a bulldozer which was trying to stem flood water that was coming down the cliff face and washing the track away. The bulldozer took up half the track so we passed on the other half. as we crossed the stream of flood water I looked out of the car window I could see the mud on the edge of the track crumbling and being washed down the cliff on the other side of the track. We had about a meter of clearance from the crumbling edge and the huge drop.
It was dark long before we arrived in Kalpa and we went to bed exhausted with no idea of what we would see when daylight came.

Morning in Kalpa.  Photo Tom Corban

 

Advertisements

Echoes of Empire

The Mall, Shimla. Photo Tom Corban.

Just as the French withdrew to the northern hill Town of Sapa during the heat of the Indochina summer the British went to Shimla. They took with them the apparatus of Empire and the architecture of Victorian England. It would appear that Shimla was something of a den of inequity. Often the wives would stay in Shimla for some considerable time, sometimes most of the year. The Viceroy and his staff would decamp to Shimla for the hot season and India and Burma would be ruled from there for the duration. Serving officers would have a 10 week leave in Shimla. Soldiers clearly did not feel the heat and therefore had little need for Shimla staying instead in the heat of the Indian summer. Bored wives and an endless supply of officers led to intrigue, flirting and more. 10 weeks seemed to be ideal. Enough time to get entangled and then unentangled without too many long lasting traumas. The start of what is now known as the bitter sweet holiday romance?

 

Shimla is stunning. At the height of Empire surveyors were sent out to find a place with a temperate climate where a town could be built away from the heat. They chose Shimla and a new town spread over 7 hilltops in the Himalayan foothills was built. Unlike most places where towns tend to begin in the valley and then move up the hillside until it is too steep for building Shimla starts on the hill tops, spreads along the steep ridges that connect each summit and then descended a third way down towards the valley floor. It looks extraordinary.

Shimla.  Photo Tom Corban.

The victorians and Edwardians imported almost every style of building as the town was being built. Scottish Baronial, Mock Gothic, Tudor along with a Scottish Church and a classic English church.

The former Viceroy’s Residence, now a University. Photo Tom Corban.

The combination of the Mountain Railway, the Viceroy’s residence, the Gaiety Theatre, the classic red or green roofed Shimla buildings, the ridgeway roads, steep paths and alleyways makes the town is both confusing and breathtaking.

Christian Church, Shimla.  Photo Tom Corban

Sanjay, who is out guide when we head up into the Himalayas tomorrow, showed us around. He seems to be known and liked by everybody, subsequently we experienced no queues or delays and got a lot of interesting history about the place.

The famous Gaiety Theatre, Shimla.  Photo Tom Corban.

Later we drove to Shali Heights for a homestay before starting our journey into the Himalayas. As we drove the light feel and the scenery just got better and better. We arrived to a most impressive thunderstorm ad were greeted by what turned out to be Sanjay’s mother and father. It was in all, a rather glorious day.

Jodhpur

Floodlit Mehangarth Fort,Jodhpur, India. Photo Tom Corban.

After another night train we pulled in to Jodhpur Junction and despite some rudeness from another traveller and some petulance from me there were no incidents. Nothing stolen, no illness; a success. The town was awake and busy despite the early hour. We had wanted a room with a view of the fort which we got, which was nice. My goodness though, what a fort. It is absolutely magnificent. Those Moguls knew a thing or two about architecture, especially defensive architecture.

Mehangarth Fort, Jodhpur, India.. Photo Tom Corban

“The fort has never been taken” we were told, not surprising when you look at the height of the rock its built on and then add the height of the fort itself on top of that. It is immense. The wide path that leads up to the main fort gate has a steep slope. Steep enough to tire out charging war elephants that have been stampeded towards the fort gate. There is then a sneaky 90 degree right turn just before the gate. I don’t think tired charging war elephants do right turns very well. Despite all the defensive stuff the fort itself is simply stunning and we wandered around it for hours.

Mehangarth Fort interior,Jodhpuri, India.Photo Tom Corban.

The other interesting feature of the town is the town well.Its immediately outside our hotel and straight in front of the tourists saying “ I don’t believe that”. It is a most extraordinary thing. Imagine if you can a giant square jelly mold turned upside down so that the narrow point of what is effectively a four sided pyramid, is at the bottom and the big open square is at the top. this top part is about 50 meters square and the pointed bottom bit is about 6 meters square. The sides are like a series of steps so you can walk down as far as the water and then walk back up. Well you would be able to if the steps were not about 2 meters high. To make it possible to walk down to the water level and fill a container there are flights of stone steps that join each level together. Its like walking around a giant Escher 3d model. on steroids. As all the steps slope down to make the water run off it also feels very unsafe.Three natural springs fill the structure. During the monsoon season it is filled to the top. At present it has 15 meters of water at the bottom of it. When full the surface area would be large, but when relatively empty the surface area would be quite small reducing evaporation, (Did I say it hot here? actually its hot here: god its hot here). Young people take a delight in using it for swimming and tomb-stoning. It looks dangerous but good fun.

Jo Sitting on the steps in the Town Well, Jodhpur, India. Photo Tom Corban.

In al its been wonderfully relaxing and its been good to get out around the town without having to use any transport.

Passing time of day, Jodhpur, India.Photo Tom Corban.

Later that night we walked around the old town, past the market clock tower ending up in went one of the many rooftop restaurants to eat slowly, watch the castle light up, the sky darken and the stars came out. Even the cold that Jo had endured so stoically, before passing it so thoughtfully, on to me seemed to have peaked and I was beginning to breath through my nose. It was a lovely day and a wonderful evening. Little did I know that the next day I would take the common cold into room 101. “That” as Kipling used to say, “is another story”.

Holi

Holy Festival Jaipur. Photo Tom Corban.

Through the camera viewfinder it looked like a scene from an inner city riot. Fires were burning at every road intersection. Occasionally people would approach the fires and throw something on motorbikes and scooters continued to wiz past blaring their horns and treating the fires like roundabouts and this being India they would go around which ever way they wanted. The sound of drums, horns and paper trumpets filled the air. It was the evening before Holi. The fires were offering thanks to the gods and as we went further and further into the inner maze of backstreets that made the Pink City people became friendlier and friendlier, encouraging us to join them and giving us corn seed so that we could throw it on their fire and make our own offering, We were told the gods will be pleased with us and we would be blessed.

The Night before Holi. Photo Tom Corban

 

The next day the colourful part of the ceremony began. We had seen the bags of vegetable dye being marked up for transport the previous week at the Delhi Spice market. Now each of those sacks had been split and split again and those vivid colours were on sale on the street corners. What vivid colours they were, unbelievably rich and saturated. The stuff of children’s colouring book dreams.

Holy Festival colours on sale in the Pink City. Photo Tom Corban.

Traditionally Holi is something that families celebrate together in a structure that seems a bit like the English Christmas. Its essentially a family thing but with a lot of recognition within the wider community. So, just as the English would go for a walk, wishing any passers by “Happy Christmas”, having a few impromptu celebrations before gathering together as a family for the main Christmas celebration so people were acting here, Wandering around, wishing people “Happi Holi” and then going home for the main celebration.

Tourists enjoying the Holi Festival in the pink city. Photo Tom Corban.

The town had identified an area for a public celebration, likewise some hotels had arranged their own celebrations on the rooftops. These arrangements seem to have been made for two reasons. Firstly, many Indian families were staying at our hotel specifically for the Holi celebrations therefor a hotel celebration worked well for both them and the tourists. The second reason is that Holi can, and does, gey out of hand. What starts out as a traditional spreading of colours on peoples faces degenerates during the day goes on. Some of this is fueled by alcohol and some by plain bullying and inappropriate touching. We started Holi early at the hotel, went into town and wandered around for a bit and then went to the extended family of our Tuk Tuk driver. It was all great fun.

Traditional Family Holi, Jaipur. Photo Tom Corban

We decided to go back to the hotel in the afternoon as the town was getting a bit iffy. One view is that it was just hi jinks and people getting carried away another is that some people try to hijack the festival and use it for other, other more selfish purposes. An Australian group returned to the hotel the same time as us. One of the young men said “ we decided to come back because some of them were getting a bit handy with the girls”. Ah I thought, it is just like Christmas in the UK. At one stage I did get a rather fierce facefull of green thrown in my face in a way thet made me wonder if tourists were getting special attention, but as Rudyard Kipling would say, “that is another story”.

Jo on arrival back at the hotel during Holi Festival. Photo Tom Corban

For the rest of that day, and the next, everything was covered with fine saturated particles of colour from the festival. Beds, clothes, food, floors, shelves and us.. it took three days to wash of our skin. It was all splendid, splendid stuff.

Tiger, Tiger, Tigers.

Two Tiger cubs making their way through the bush.Photo Tom Corban

We had been watching the tiger for some time. It had been watching a small herd of spotted deer. Suddenly it stood up. It had spotted its chance. It crept forward, not a sound. You could see the muscles tensed. It began to trot out of the bushes into the clearing. Trot is the wrong word. It was getting itself into a position where it could attack. We too had tensed up as we watched.

Tiger stalking Spotted Deer. The deer can be seen in the background. Photo Tom Corban

There was a warning call from the herd and the tiger dropped down into the scorched grass almost invisible again We had been told that you really needed to do 4 or 5 safaris if you wanted a realistic chance of seeing a tiger. If you are only doing 2 safaris , they said, you had better plan to be very lucky.

Tiger mies its way along a track. Photo Tom Corban.

We saw 2 tigers on our first time out. Not just saw them but were close enough to pass the time of day with them if they were that sort of animal- less than 10 feet away. We had stunning sightings each time we went out with the exception of the last safari where the tiger was close but asleep somewhere. The phrase the guides here use is,” if you see tiger twice, it sees you eight times”.The encounter described earlier was electrifying and on our second to last trip out we were privileged to see a mother with her two 9 month old cubs. A rare site indeed. We were told we have been very very lucky and I do believe that is something of an understatement.

Tigress with her two nine month old cubs. Photo Tom Corban

The Landscape was stunning, falling where  two ranges of hills meet. There are some interesting cliffs and some high plains. Its good for a wide range of species including Leopard. It was also good to have time out between safaris, good food, a good bed and a proper shower

Agra

View from the roof terrace. Photo Jo Corban

Taj Mahal Having sat still at the police station for most of the morning we decided to have a walk and find the gardens near the Taj Mahal that we had been told about. Evidently they were an oasis of green and calm with good views of the Taj. On reaching the Taj we followed the path to the left for about half an hour until we got to the river that runs behind it. Finding our way blocked we retraced our steps and then followed the road around other side of the perimeter wall. This proved difficult as it soon went into a labyrinth of small alley ways with all sorts of shops and stalls. After asking directions lots of times and stumbling into all the other entrances we still had not the garden we had been told about. Eventually we stumbled into a temple and asked there. “Loverly garden behind that door” we were told. A hand pointed to large enclosing wall with a small green gate in it. The gate had been left open after people had used it to get into the garden. We went in. There were immediate shouts and the shouts weren’t friendly. “GO, GO” Several people were shouting at once, Rakes and other garden implements were brandished at us; people looked menacing. “GO, GO, GO” the shouts continued. We backed away. I became aware that I had rather foolishly put my hands up. As we backed out of the door I shut it behind me and slid the bolt firmly into place. Hot and tired we started back to the hotel. Just before we back to the hotel we noticed a large gate and a big sign saying Nature Park. We had walked straight past it several hours earlier. We spent the last of the daylight in the Park and it was wonderful. Quiet, green, cool and with wonderful views. Later we were told it was the park for hand holding lovers, It was a lovely place.

Selfie in the Nature Park. Photo Jo Corban.

The next morning we got up early and queued for the Taj Mahal tickets then walked down the VIP road to the entrance. It is actually called the VIP Road and was built to make the place look nicer for the tourists and visiting dignitaries. Its got its own footpath, lights and everything. Even more surprising is the fact that cows are excluded from it so you can walk in relative safety without having to look at the ground all the time. The security to get in is comparable to airport security with the exception that you get a really good pat down as well as the body scan. The security found my swiss army knife in my camera bag. “Whats this” he said. Me “ A knife”. Him “ Not allowed” he said sternly and then after a short pause he said “Please hide” and waved me in.

 

 Photo Tom Corban.

I had been told that nothing prepare you for the detail on the tomb. Its true. I was also unprepared for the size of it, and its beauty. It is simply the most beautiful, perfect made thing that I have ever seen. It took a few walks around the outside before I could begin to understand the absolute symmetry of it. It just got more and more stunning. Once you enter the mausoleum itself you see the sarcophagi of Mumtaz Mahal and Shah Jahan in the main chamber. Mumtaz Mahal, the Mogul Emperor’s favorite wife who died giving birth to her 14th child. Actually as I understand it what you see are false sarcophagi, the real ones being on a lower floor that visitors don’t get to see.

Sunset on the Taj Mahal. Photo Jo Corban

 

Several years later the Mogul’s son deposed him and imprisoned him in the Red Fort a couple of kilometers away. He was placed in a cell where he could look at the Taj Mahal out of the window. I can only imagine the sadness. A few days later Jo was talking to an English couple who had also been to the Taj Mahal. When she asked them what they thought of it they said that they had been a bit disappointed. “The buildings alright” they said but there is “not a lot inside it”.

Cannabis growing natural in the fields behind the Taj Mahal. Photo Jo Corban

Cleanliness and Godliness

 

The Banks of the Ganges at Varanasi are constructed a bit like an old fashioned football terrace. Lots of steps going up from the river bank almost 40 meters high. They provide seats for the worshippers to sit on and also a flood defense for when the monsoon comes and the river is in full flood. Like football terraces they have vertical walls reaching up from the river with narrow gaps so that people can get from one section of the terraces to the other. These vertical walls are only about 1 metre high but they play a crucial role in crowd control and lessen the risk of people being crushed during a major festival. A gang of four people had constructed a toll gate made out of bamboo and were refusing to let any western people through unless they payed a toll. This was of course a private enterprise scheme and in no way official. I rattled the sticks and showed that I could break my way through. While I was doing this Jo slipped through a gap and got to the other side. Knowing I could break my way through the gang looked less confident. I suggested a compromise. I would go through for nothing, but If they were still there when I came back I would pay them. The leader agreed. He placed his thumb in a bowl of bright green powder and then pressed it on my forehead thereby giving me right of passage. Such entrepreneurial actions from a group of 5 year old children.

Elsewhere along the banks other groups of children played cricket and other more usual games. Groups of young people hung around on street corners and creating absolutely no antisocial behavior whatsoever. As we walked we stepped around sleeping dogs, lots of sleeping dog and not a dangerous, or even barking one in sight. It did make me wonder why “problem young people and dangerous dogs” are such an issue in the UK. There are so many positives that it really does amaze me that any search for “enlightenment” does not seem to extend to having any sort of personal responsibility for caring for the city, the river or the wider environment. It seems somewhat, well, unenlightened. There seems a basic lack of education and willingness to change some behaviors despite the clear evidence that the current actions are unsustainable. Things may be changing. There are a couple of new Municipal toilets and there are some new green toilets and the cleaner end of the Ghats. There was also an advert for the  Galaxy Hospital on a roundabout in the town centre which said ” We Treat, He Cures”. I thought that was a nice balance between some sort of self determination and the belief that everything is down to the particular God you believe in.

While I spent the day in bed Jo went into the old astronomy on the banks at the other end of town. Among the helpful signs, such as “ When the planets line up, this machine knows” was a notice that said (among other things)

• Do not throw rubbish in the river
• Do not litter Do not shampoo in the river
• Do not dispose of dead bodies in the river
• No frolicking

When she walked out she saw a man who had been washing in the river put his business suite back on, pick up a bag of refuse he had brought with him, and throw it in the river.

It appears that problems related to the upkeep of the city are not new. I have just read  the following: “In 1897, author Mark Twain, said of Varanasi, “Benares is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend, and looks twice as old as all of them put together.”

If only the strength and beauty of the religious spirituality to do with the “self” and family could be extended to the secular and the environment. Still I have to admit that the Religious is still  wonderfully awe inspiring.

Ganga Aarti, Varanasi, India. 11 March 2016. Thousands gather on the banks of the Ganges and in small boats to take part in the Ganga Aarti. The daily celebration takes place at sunset where offerings are made to the Ganges giving thanks for a happy and prosperous life.

 

The next day the cloud cover was low and moisture hung in the air. The clouds stopped the fumes of the city escaping, so by the afternoon the smell of rotting food and petrol fumes were overpowering. Some periods of heavy rain brought some relief but the problem lasted till nightfall. We decided to spend the next morning, our last in Varanasi, by visiting some of the Buddhist temples in Saranath about 10k outside the city centre.

 

 

 

India, Delhi

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man in possession of a good itinerary must be in want of a good dentist. We set off on our travels at 2:00 am on Monday morning. For the 2 days previously the taste in my mouth had been rather unpleasant and halfway through the flight the tell tale pulse like throb under a tooth had confirmed some sort of infection. It was not the way I had intended to arrive in Delhi. 24 hours of travel, 5 hours of sleep and increasing discomfort took the edge off the excitement. So the first task was not the usual eyes on stalks walk around the immediate environment but the search for a dentist. A young man from our hotel took me along the Main Bazaar and into a small side road to a doorway with a large plastic picture of a smile on it. The man sitting in the dust outside the doorway got up and told my accomplice (who translated for me ) that the Dentist would be back in half an hour. We sat down to wait. After an hour, and several more conversations with the man sitting in the dust, the dentist arrived. Courteous nods all round. On unlocking the door with the plastic smile on it the Dentist ushered me in and urged me to sit in “the chair”. I was followed in by my accomplice from the hotel and the man who had been sitting in the dust. The chair and its various attachments was immediately familiar to me. It was the same one my dentist had used when I was a child in 1959. Actually I think it was the same one, there was a crack on the dentists light that looked the same shape as the one my childhood dentist had caused when he hit his head on it. I had bitten his hand and he had pulled away in surprise cracking the light in the process. Well I was only 8 and he did hurt me. As the man with the dusty bottom adjusted the light I finally realised that he was the dentist’s assistant. My accomplice from the hotel came closer so that he could see what was going on. It was, as I though an Infection in the gum which would, I was assured, respond to antibiotics. No drilling, no extractions. Two of the four of us looked pleased. And so, after a rather juddering start we went looking for Delhi.

Delhi is, as people had warned me, confusing. Its not the traffic, the speed, the constant hassle and haggle or the noise, its the sheer scale of it. We were staying in the centre of the old town so it really was bustle from the word go. There is a brusqueness to it that is hard to explain. People in official roles seem to wave you on (or away) with what comes across as distain. It’s not hostile but it does feel unfriendly. When you get into conversations with people however they seem open, friendly and helpful. Once you have haggled in a fairly blunt way with a Tuc Tuc driver, and then they have stopped several times to unsuccessfully try to persuade you do add a second or third destination to your journey the conversation finally seems to settle down into a relaxed and helpful chat pointing out some sights as you go past and making helpful suggestions for other days without any attempt to add them to your current journey. Perhaps its as straightforward as establishing as much business as you can get before you engage in pleasantries. In the west we run seminars in “ Maximising your Business Opportunities” They should get some Tuc Tuc drivers in as inspirational speakers.

 

I know that it takes time to get the feel of a city, especially one as big as Delhi, but there was nowhere to even start. It reminded me of walking around St Ives (in Cornwall UK) during the new year celebrations. There were thousands of people all in fancy dress walking and staggering around this small charming fishing village. We kept walking around looking for what was going on. It was very enjoyable, but we could not figure out what was happening. It took us hours of walking, during which we went into many pubs and purchased a considerable amount of alcohol before we realised that all that was happening was that people were walking around and going into pubs to buy alchohol before walking around again. In my college course we would have called this experience “participant observation”. Delhi seems like this but with the sort of air pollution that drys the back of your throat. Millions pf people walking round the Old Town buying stuff from thousands of stalls. The difference from the UK is that they all seem small independent stalls, all selling the same sort of stuff. Fruit and vegetables that look wonderful in some localities, lots of shiny bling in others. It seems like miles of the same until you get to a monument or site of historical significance, but these sites also have their confusions. They seem disconnected as though they are not part of the city they are in. The two places that seem to be different are the imperial centre of New Delhi and the Old Town spice market. The Imperial centre will need to wait for another day but the spice market!

We turned off Chandni Chowk and passed through a small alleyway into a past world. The smells hit you, subtle, varied and distinct. Wonderful smells changing in a fraction of a second as you walk through the narrow maze and pass 3 men who are loading eight huge spice sacks onto a narrow handcart then dodge a porter carrying spice sack bigger than himself on his head. Within seconds you are intoxicated by the dizzying delight of the smells. Seconds later, as your throat drys,your eyes begin to water you become aware of the sounds. Wheezing, spluttering, spitting and above all coughing. In my imagination its the sound of a Nottingham Colliery during the height of the Industrial Revolution. Its the coughs that stay in the memory. Some are dry hacking coughs, others are so phlegm filled that you find yourself turning away. Its a place of continual movement, Sacks being weighed, loaded and moved. Sacks arriving , being split, weighed and moved. Carried through the narrow passageways to the street to be carried to the hotels, homes and restaurants of Delhi and beyond. Not only spices but vegetable dyes, bright deep primary colours to be thrown at people during the Holi Festival in a few weeks time.

So with a visit to Red Fort and Humayun’s Tombe, the overpowering experience of the Spice Market and generally playing with the traffic we fought our way out of Delhi. The overnight train was great fun. The lights were a little erratic at first so I was glad I had packed a head torch. During journey the ticket inspector called along with two army chaps, each with their very own metal sub machine gun and red plastic torch, to help sort out a passenger who had apparently forgotten their ticket. No half measures here. There were no shots so I assume the matter was peacefully resolved. As I drifted off in the heat of the sleeping carriage I found myself reflecting in the signs in the train toilet where there were two separate buttons to flush the squat toilets. The button on the wall was marked with a sign that simply said “Flush”. The other button however, located much nearer the hole in the ground, shouted in large letters “EMERGENCY FLUSH” As I drifted off I found myself wondering what constituted an appropriate emergency.

A Chill in the Air

When I woke up there was a definite chill in the air. In the streets people were wearing down jackets. The staff at the hotel were commenting on how cold it was. I had to put a jacket on to keep warm. The temperature had dropped to 18 C and was not expected to rise above 21C. On the bed was the remains of the travels documentation. We has started off with 15 envelopes. They were marked Heathrow to Hanoi, Hanoi to SaPa, Hanoi to Hue, Hue to Hoi An, to Saigon and so on. Each contained the details of the train, bus or plane we were due to use that day along with details of our accommodation. Between the lines of the various documents were the hopes and aspirations, the assumptions and built in mistakes we had started out with. Now there was one envelope left.

It has been an extraordinary four weeks. Trekking in SaPa, traveling the length of Vietnam and being caught in a serious tropical storm on the way. Spending time in the Mekong Delta drinking from freshly cut coconuts. Experiencing the most beautiful countryside and the rich culture of both Vietnam and Cambodia. The warmth, hospitality and openness of the people we met was both a surprise and a constant delight. And now there was the one envelope left. On it were the words “Hanoi to Heathrow”. We had run out of time. Its such a shame. I was just getting the hang of it.

Stepping on Ruins

There are many things you can step when you go for a walk in Siem Reap. There are countless small frogs, ranging from about 7 to 25 mm in size. There are the small flat headed snakes, quite thin but about 30 cm long, who may well be out looking for the frogs. The two things that really take your breath away when you step on them are temple ruins and land mines. After completing the required risk assessment we chose to step on the temple ruins. Some people however did not had the choice. People in the town and surrounding area had lost limbs as a result of the mines. The danger is gradually being cleared but it is a slow and expensive business. It costs about three dollars to plant a mine; it takes more than a thousand dollars to remove one. The cost is high because no one knows where they are and extensive and careful exploration has to be done before an area can be cleared. Even so some, inevitably, are missed. Information about the area suggests keeping to the established footpaths and states that the area inside the various temple complexes are clear.

The temple complex is truly astonishing. All the pictures I had seen were very two dimensional compared with the reality. The scale was, well I have to use the word again, astonishing. The detail of the carving and the amount of it that remains was also a surprise. Maybe I looked at the wrong pictures and read the wrong articles. Perhaps I just could not understand the scale until I saw it for myself. Whatever the reason it was the most wonderful shock.

You do need transport to get from one temple complex to another as they are some distance from each other, (some more than 10K)and it would be absolutely exhausting to walk between them in the Cambodian heat. This is the “cool” part of the year and I still found it a bit difficult, mainly due to the humidity.

 

We watched the sunrise over Angkor Wat, something that sounds better that it actually was. The best place to stand is behind what is known as the reflecting pool on the left hand side in front of the temple. The sun comes up from behind the temple and the temple is reflected in the pool. If you have seen pictures of Angkor Wat then I am sure you will have seen that view. I say that the sun comes up from behind the temple, and I am sure it does at a different times of the year. For us and the other 700 of so people who crowded on the muddy edge of a 100m wide lake the sun missed the spot and came up somewhat to the right of the temple structure. I have found sun rise and sunset a bit of a spiritual experience. Like organ music or a good choir can enhance the spiritual experience of church for those who believe, so good clouds, interesting weather and a high viewpoint can enhance a sunrise or sunset for me. The sunrise at Angkor Wat had none of those and the crowd experience was not something I particularly enjoyed. This experience caused us to change our minds about watching the sunset as the best spot attracts hundreds of coaches and thousands of people.

On the plus side getting up at 4:30 and to the site by sunrise had a significant benefit. Most people who watched the sunrise went back to their coaches, were driven back to their hotels, had a little sleep and then went for breakfast before returning to the temples with the rest of the crowds later in the morning. We decided to miss breakfast and enjoy the site whilst it was comparatively deserted. We went to the Ta Prohm temple which is the one where the trees have encroached and intertwined with the buildings. Those of a certain age may know it as the Laura Croft temple. It was magnificent and I felt very privileged to be able to explore it in the comparative isolation of the breakfast hours. What a shock though when the coach parties returned. It was instant, streams of people swarming through the openings and on into the site. From empty to full in less than 5 minutes. The noise was phenomenal, and I thought insulting. These are spiritual/religious buildings. If you don’t believe in that particular faith you should still be respectful. Worst of all was a tour guide pointing to a particular tree  suggesting that a bit of it looked like a penis. It didn’t. The women in the party dutifully went over and stroked it – loud laughter. He then pointed to a trunk that slit into two, suggesting that it was like a woman with her legs apart. It wasn’t. The men duly went over with a finger extended – loud laughter. This was an adult party with an age range of about  50 to 65. Young people were much better behaved. I confess to not liking crowds at the best of times. This was not the best of times. Still nothing will take away the experience of being able to wonder around in quiet solitude in one of the most amazing areas of antiquity I have ever seen.

 

At the end of two days we were both “templed out” and needed to stop as were were not doing ourselves or the temples justice. We found a wonderful place called the Peace Cafe in Siem Reap. It was vegetarian, which got rid of the meat accident scenario. They served food that did not, like most other places, have sugar added. There was space to relax and it was very peaceful. They did have WIFI. I only mention the WIFI because whoever choose the the password was clearly inspired. Go there and find out.

There is sense in spending more than a week in the area and going to the temples every second day. This would have given a bit of head space between visits and also explore the town. It is a good town to explore. Unfortunately we dod not have enough time to do that. It appears that the longer your trip, the less time you have.