Getting the Khmer Culture

On the other side, we shared a taxi with a Spanish couple for the two hour ride to Siem Reap. It probably would have been longer, but our driver casually double passed cars in oncoming traffic. Siem Reap is an odd town - an entire community developed to entertain visitors who have come to see Angkor Wat. There are cheap souvenirs, cheap (semi-authentic) Khmer restaurants, and cheap tuk-tuk tours of the ruins. 

We went all out on Cambodian-style BBQ when we arrived. We ordered shark, ostrich, and snake and grilled them on a small metal bowl over an open flame right at our table. Dinner was followed by an Apsara traditional dance show across the street. A troupe of local teenagers dressed in wild costumes danced several traditional Khmer stories and fairytales, accompanied by a drumming group.

The next morning we woke at the truly terrifying hour of 4:30am for sunrise at Angkor Wat. The temples were beautiful and impressive, but I was put off by the crowds of tourists and swarms of hawkers at every turn. We had a wonderful time exploring ruins overrun by vegetation and looking closely at the intricate reliefs adorning every wall. My curiousity was piqued particularly by the interesting mix of Hindu and Buddhist sculptures. 

Hindu reliefs

Main temple of Angkor

Did I mention the temples are huge?

Bridge decor

More reliefs

Nature takes over

Not just sharing the temples with other tourists!

Our poor tuk-tuk driver said he had been up partying all night and had yet to sleep, so he napped in a hammock while we had a brunch of coconut water, muesli, yogurt, and fresh mango and pineapple. By noon we were exhausted and had seen our fill, so we napped at the hostel before catching a 4:45pm bus to Phnom Penh. 

It always seems to me that the journey is just as fun as the destination, and this bus ride surely did not disappoint. We were entertained by gorgeous green countryside and loud, raucous Khmer sitcoms from the television at the front of the bus. Despite the lack of English subtitles, we knew when to smile because half the bus exploded with laughter every few minutes. After the sitcoms ended, the driver switched over to incredibly cheesy Korean music videos. Every single one seemed to be about heartbreak, gang violence, or heartbreak caused by gang violence.

We arrived, bruised and slightly carsick, at a deserted bus station in the outskirts of Phnom Penh around midnight. A single tuk-tuk driver offered to take us to a random guest house near the Mekong riverfront, where we fell into bed immediately. 

We had our favorite meal of the trip the next morning at Phnom Penh's central market. Markets like these take a little adaptation, especially on an empty stomach. The smells are overwhelming: too many people crammed in tiny aisles and shops, raw meat hanging from the ceiling above every stall, hundreds of live chickens stuffed into minuscule crates, spices and sauces thrown on sizzling grills in all directions, and no organized waste disposal. But the food is divine. We plopped down on plastic stools in front of a friendly-looking lady. She nodded and filled a bowl with cold noodles, soup, and veggies. I pointed out spring rolls and sticky rice with peanuts wrapped in banana leaves. A man at the adjoining stall brought us tea (on the house) and iced coffees. It was perfect. Once sitting, we were able to fully enjoy the ordered chaos of the market. 

Psar Thmay

Num banh choc (rice noodle soup) and num anksom sach chrouk (sticky rice cake)

Fresh seafood from the Mekong

Next, we flagged down a tuk-tuk and headed for the Vietnamese Embassy. We needed to pay for entry visas in advance. After leaving cash and our passports (yikes), we wandered the neighborhood looking for a way to exchange the rest of our Cambodia Riel for Dong or US dollars. No luck. But we did find a wonderfully secluded resort that allowed visitors to use the pool with the purchase of one drink. I decided I could swing a $1 soursop smoothie, and spent the next hour lounging with my feet in the cool water. 

After picking up our passports with their fresh Vietnam visas, we took a tuk-tuk to the Killing Fields for the most sobering and sickening experience of the trip. To say I was uneducated about the recent Cambodian genocide is a gross understatement. Two million people were tortured, killed, and dumped in mass graves during the four year rule of Saloth Sar (Pol Pot) and his band of deranged subordinates. And the rest of the world was largely unaware. 

I felt distinctly uncomfortable walking between the deep impressions in the ground and looking at the collections of bones and clothes displayed around the fields. It wasn't necessarily distasteful; I think the community should be able to mourn and remember in any fashion they choose, but I felt disrespectfully close. Imagine visiting Ground Zero and viewing suit jackets smeared with dust and blood, pieces of bone, and maybe the contents of someone filing cabinet. It's too personal, too raw. 

Buddhist Stupa containing skulls of Pol Pot's victims

Left: Spirit house (shrine to appease the spirits)

Right: Bones of unidentified victims at Choeung Ek

Pete and I slowly pulled ourselves out of a despondent silence as we headed back towards the city. We decided on a quiet night near the Mekong and enjoyed a few Anchors, a Cambodian pizza (cooked in the common Khmer fashion - with plenty of marijuana), and a bowl of flavorful amok curry. Our quiet night turned crazy when we were surrounded by a handful of young hawkers. They giggled as they showed us hand games and tried to sell us colorful bracelets and postcards. I caved and bought two bracelets from one boy who looked about ten. Unfortunately his younger brother was incredibly competitive and followed us all the way back to the hostel, trying to get us to buy more bracelets from him. 

From a rooftop in downtown Phnom Penh

Crossing the Mekong

Flooded fields on the outskirts of Phnom Penh

The next morning, our senses and emotions completely frazzled, we took a comfortable minibus away from the overwhelming city and into the refreshing peace of the eastern highlands...

Busy, busy Bangkok

Pete arrived in Singapore at 1am on Monday morning. We slept for a few hours and turned right back around to fly to Bangkok for an obligatory tour down Kho San Road. After trying various street food (scorpion, pad thai, and spring rolls) and shopping for souvenirs, we got horribly lost on the way to the hostel in the middle of the night and ended up in a large, complex monastery. Pete was bit by a dog and we definitely scared some young monks who were out playing with remote control cars, but we eventually managed to find our way around the monastery and back to our room. 

Pete loooooves grilled scorpion

The next morning we woke up bright and early (5am) to catch the train to the Cambodian border. Riding the third class train from Bangkok to Aranya Prathet, taking a tuk-tuk to the border, crossing into Poipet, and hiring a taxi to Siem Reap is a common backpacker journey. We were both excited to start this epic adventure, despite it being pitch black at that hour. We hopped out of the taxi and headed to the train station ticket window. I reached for my purse to pay for our tickets and oh crap - my wallet was gone. I immediately knew what happened: I took it out to pay for the taxi ride, and since I knew I was going to get change, I didn't put it back in my purse right away. Instead, I left the wallet sitting on my lap, where it must had slid off around a turn. In the darkness I didn't notice it was gone. The taxi driver gave the change to Pete, who stuffed it in his pocket, so I never needed my wallet to put the change away. We spent several frantic minutes rushing throughout the taxi queue, poking our heads in each vehicle, looking for our driver. But I knew it was too late. He was long gone to who knows where. Now we were stranded at the train station with no money and no time. If we somehow went looking for the driver, we would surely miss the train. If we didn't, there was no hope for my wallet. I had lost cash (about 1000 baht), my credit card, my debit card, my NUS student ID, and my health insurance card. Oddly, I was most distraught about the lost of my Singaporean Student ID. It was the one truly irreplaceable item, and a prized souvenir from the summer.

But in the spirit of adventure, I decided there was no use wasting our day on some wild goose chase for a man we may not even recognize if we saw him. Thankfully there was an ATM in the train station. Pete got out cash, we bought our train tickets, I called my sister to have her cancel my cards, and we boarded the last car. It was a ramshackle old thing with wooden walls and broken benches. Luckily most of the windows were also broken, so they stayed open and let in a wonderful breeze. 

Getting ready to board the train

When the train finally rumbled slowly out of the station, the sun was just peeking over the horizon. We chugged through the outskirts of Bangkok, past flimsy houses built inches from the tracks and toxic looking rivers clogged with garbage and debris. The train windows gave snapshots into the lives of those who live along the tracks: shirtless men grilling satay, women loading down motos with palm fronds and bamboo stalks, and children running amok through the crowded neighborhoods. 

Cruising through Bangkok

Finally the shacks and noisy roads gave way to immensely green rice paddies and farmhouses and palm forests. The train picked up speed (yikes) and clanged along the endless track. I spent a good portion of the seven hour journey exploring the train cars and leaning out the windows. Stepping from car to car was creepy and exhilarating. I felt like an outlaw from the wild west. The hinges were not enclosed; nothing was stopping you from climbing onto the roof or jumping out of the train at any point. I stood on the lowest step between two cars and leaned my whole body out of the train, letting the tall grasses brush against my legs as we sped east. 

Looking out of the train

Rice farmers at work

We reached Aranya Prathet just after 1pm and took a tuk-tuk to the popular border crossing. Immigration was a breeze with a US$20 Cambodian visa and a few extra bucks for the border guards. We walked through a gauntlet of hawkers and potential pickpockets pushing up against us and following us down the sidewalk, and finally stepped into the bright sun and red dirt roads of Cambodia.

Approaching the Kingdom of Cambodia

To be continued... 

Lava and coffee in Java, Indonesia

Two of the EAPSI students in my group, Allie and Nathan, are geologists studying "what the heck is actually going on inside a volcano?" So naturally, we had to take a weekend trip to an active volcano off the coast of Sumatra, Indonesia. 

[[Informative sidenote: The area around what is now called Krakatau - in the Sunda Strait between Java and Sumatra - has been volcanically active for centuries. The enormous eruption of 1883 is probably the most famous. The explosion (rated a 6 on the VEI) was loud enough to hear from thousands of miles away and carried shock waves around the Earth seven times. It launched ash over 50 miles into the air while two nearby mountains dropped into the sea, causing a deadly tsunami. The sun was blotted out in the area for days and average global temperatures fell for five years. In 1927, another mountain rose up out of the sea - Anak Krakatau or "Child of Krakatau". It continues to grow by about 22 feet every year and is the current center for volcanic activity in the area.]]

Krakatau!

We flew to Jakarta, the capital of Indonesia, on Friday night. It took the taxi driver ages, and lots of stopping to ask for directions, before we found the hostel. I cried over dinner at a nearby restaurant when I thought a chili pepper was a baby carrot and ate the whole thing in one bite. 

After a 5:30am wake up and a first breakfast of toast and coffee, we started the three hour bus ride to Carita, a idyllic beach town on the northern coast of Java. The ride went by in a flash; it was fun to watch the bustling towns and rice fields and green hills pass by the bus window. Second breakfast was at a small restaurant near the port in Carita - chocolate pancakes and more gritty Indonesia coffee. After that, we hopped on the fastboat for a one and a half hour journey to Anak Krakatau. 

As Java disappeared behind us, a volcanic peak came into view ahead, spewing smoke into the air. I had my first and only oh crap moment: "Why exactly am I headed towards this volatile beast instead of high-tailing it away?" Then a dolphin swam by the boat, and we go close enough to see black sand beaches and amazingly blue water and waves pounding rock cliffs and trees clinging to the edges of impossibly steep slopes, and I forgot all about the fact that the ground underneath me could explode in a deadly blast of molten lava at any moment (that might be a little overdramatic).

Anak Krakatau

Our beach

While the guides set up the tents and food, we cooled off in the perfectly clear water and ate lunch on the hot, black sand. We camped on the side of the island least affected by recent eruptions; there were trees and bushes and plenty of animal life in the form of thousands of obnoxious (but harmless) ants. In the afternoon, we cruised to the opposite side of the island, which looked a lot more like Mars than anything I've seen on Earth. Here the lava poured all the way to the ocean, forming a lumpy red and brown landscape of jagged rock and scorched trees. Where the lava met the sea, new reef had formed.

We explored the coastline with masks and snorkels, diving down to look more closely at the abundance of coral in an unbelievable variety of colors, shapes, and textures. Oranges and whites were tinged with neon yellow, purple, blue, and pink. At first, life underwater seems eerily quiet and still - just your blood rushing in your ears. But then you notice the reef buzzing and popping, bright schools of fish darting through crevices in the coral, and the waves moving in and out, pulling everything back and forth in a lazy rhythm. I could have stayed in that world forever. But once we turned into prunes, we hopped back on the boat and cruised around the rest of the island, marveling at the smoke endlessly pouring out the crater.

Vegetation starting to grow back in patches

We took a sunset hike up the side of the volcano, getting close enough to feel the ground growing hot below our feet, but staying away from the toxic gases near the top. From Allie and Nathan, I learned about types of volcanic rock and "bombs" vs. "blocks." (Bombs are pieces of magma thrown out of the top that solidify as they cool, whereas blocks are chunks of rock pulled from the throat or crater during the eruption.)

Allie loves rocks

Nathan loves rocks

I love rocks

We swam, collected firewood, and chatted on the beach while the guides prepared for dinner. Jeff - the champion of the trip - led the guys in an effort to collect, break, and organize all the wood before dark. Us girls attempted to help by moving a large driftwood bench down the beach. But there were ants, so we dropped it and ran. 

Dinner was an amazing array of barbecued fish, prawns, steamed veggies, rice, noodles, tempeh, and watermelon; I have never been so pampered on a camping trip. To quote Allie, we were 'glamping' (glamorous camping). We spent the night around Jeff's expert fire, enjoying a few Bintang's and a bottle of Jim, also supplied by Jeff. He's invited on all my future camping trips.

Late in the night the clouds finally disappeared, revealing a spectacular Milky Way and thousands of bright stars. I dove into the water and found myself surrounded by bioluminescent dinoflagellates, twinkling blue with every move I made. I swam through the sea of tiny neon lights and thought I must be dreaming.

The next morning was another 5:30am wake up, a sunrise hike back up the volcano, and a delicious breakfast of omelets, toast with strawberry jam, orange juice, and coffee (of course). Breakfast also confusingly included Oreos and chocolate wafers, but we hoarded those for later.

We cruised over to the original Krakatau island for more snorkeling on one of the best reefs I've seen. It was about thirty meters wide from the shore to where it dropped straight off into oblivion, and contained even more brightly colored fish (the boat driver was dropping crackers into the water). Eddies of pumice stone floated on the surface, another reminder of past volcanic activity. 

Rainbow over the island

One last look at Anak Krakatau

Flying fish followed our boat on the sleepy journey back to Carita, and we all napped off and on during the bus ride to Jakarta. We dropped the rest of the group at the airport, but Nick and my's flight wasn't until 9:30pm, so we had the drivers bring us back to the hostel. From there, with a hand drawn map and directions from the hostel owner to lots of old temples, markets, and neighborhoods, we set out into the city and promptly became completely lost in the sights, smells, and chaos of Jakarta.

Mopeds and tuk-tuks everywhere

Chinese temple

Being lost was fun and entertaining. As we wandered random streets, everyone on the sides of the road (and driving by on mopeds) called out to Nick, "Hey Mister!!! How are you Mister?" I felt like I was walking with a celebrity. Nick must have said, "Hello!" at least one hundred times. We finally decided to ask for directions to Pancoran Street, which was supposed to have lots of shops and food stalls. A few helpful men flagged down a tricycle taxi for us, but we got lost in translation and ended up at Panjoraman Street instead. 

"Hello Mister!"

Tuk-tuk ride

Through lucky wandering, we found a wonderful walking street with endless vendors playing music, selling handmade jewelry, and making food. This road led straight to the center square of the city. We sat on the museum patio and watched street performers, dancers, musicians, food vendors, tourists, and locals alike enjoying the end of Ramadan and the election of a new President with carnival rides, balloons, and fireworks. A friendly woman sat beside us with her son and his girlfriend. She taught history and Indonesian culture to grade schoolers in Jakarta, and happily bought us a yummy dinner of something unidentifiable but delicious and strawberry ice pops. [[Update: I determined that dinner was called Cilok and contained boiled tapioca dough in peanut sauce.]]

Pedestrian street near the city center

City center

When it sadly was time to head to the airport, another stranger found us on the street and helped us flag down a Bluebird Taxi; everyone we met was so unbelievably friendly and helpful. Halfway to the airport, we realized we screwed up the time change and had three hours before our flight. We browsed airport stores, drank tea and coffee and played cards, bought chocolate bars (quickly becoming a traveling tradition), and fell asleep as soon as we got on the plane. 

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Camping on an island beach for the night was a wonderful experience and a perfect way to spend the last weekend of the EAPSI trip. The rest of my travel stories will be from my post-program adventures. But until then, look for for a few final updates on lab and life in Singapore!

Thanks for reading:)
Ann

The (Borneo) Jungle Book

A bunch of people from the EAPSI group went to Siem Reap, Cambodia last weekend, but I'm planning to travel there in two weeks, so Nick and I decided to fly to Borneo on Friday.

[[Quick geography: The island of Borneo is held by three countries: Indonesia, Malaysia, and Brunei. Malaysian Borneo is called "East Malaysia" and is divided into two states: Sabah and Sarawak.]]

We flew into Kuching, the capital city of Sarawak. It was a bit eerie to fly Malaysian Air the day after their second tragedy of the year. But everything went smoothly, and we even got served dinner on one of the flights (we had a stopover in Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia). Because Sarah wasn't with us on this trip, we hadn't planned anything, including a place to stay when we arrived around 10:30pm on Friday night. Nick had looked into a potentially cool hostel right on the river downtown, but promptly forgot the name as soon as we got in the taxi. Our taxi driver insisted on the idea that we wanted to go to the Treehouse Hostel and dropped us off in some quiet, industrial part of town. We started wandering and ran into a group from Melbourne who pointed us to the more central part of the city.

Temples lit up through the city

As Malaysia has a large Muslim population and Ramadan is underway, Kuching was fairly quiet at night. However, the part of town we stayed in (Jalan Green Hill) held all the cheap accommodations, so naturally there were three rowdy clubs right outside the hostel window. It reminded us too much of going out in Singapore, so we walked down the road to a relaxed, outdoor bar and a bucket of Tsingtaos. 

Our hostel was advertised as a bed and breakfast, but breakfast consisted of white bread and instant coffee, so we ate a pad si-io breakfast of champions at a nearby food stall instead. Before heading to the national park, we had a time and a half at the grocery store trying to decide on meals for the next day. We ended up with ten eggs, a pepper, cherry tomatoes, two bottles of wine, and several variations of kaya bread.

Dinner and dessert for breakfast

Kubah National Park is just 20km outside of Kuching. We originally planned to stay at the forest hostel near the park headquarters, but our taxi driver dropped us off at Matang Wildlife Rehabilitation Center (inside the park, about 15km away from the headquarters), so we just decided to stay there in the longhouse. 

Longhouses are pretty much how they sound. There is usually one long central hallway and small rooms lining one or both sides for individual families to use. Many indigenous people in Borneo live longhouse style, where an entire community will reside in the same building. Some Bornean tribes are even still nomadic, living off the land and practicing molong or 'never taking more than you need.' However, many of these tribes have seen their land destroyed by deforestation or have been settled and superficially converted to Christianity or Islam. 

The Matang longhouse

Although Kubah is home to a variety of jungle species, it can be hard to spot animals throughout the park, simply because it is huge and the animals are shy. The park will also close certain trails when groups of orangutans are in the area in order to avoid encounters (this was the case with the trail to the waterfall when we arrived). However, Matang Wildlife Center is the perfect place for animal watching. Matang supports many injured or sick animals that have been found in the park or confiscated from illegal trading/ownership operations. Some of my favorite animals included the stork, the clouded leopard, the bearcats, the orangutans, the gibbon, and the sun bears. OK that was pretty much all the animals, except for the gharials - those things are freaky.

Scary crocs

Stork!

Orangutans are critically endangered in Borneo due to increases in deforestation coupled with a flourishing illegal trade market. Bornean jungles are primarily being removed for timber, mining operations, or to make way oil palm plantations. Additionally, young orangutans can fetch a few hundred dollars when sold as pets, and orangutan skulls are usually worth about $70. The increased deforestation gives poachers even more access to endangered animals once living deep in the jungle.

At the rehabilitation center, young orangutans are trained to climb trees independently, build nests, and find food. They are slowly brought deeper and deeper into the park until they can be released back into a semi-wild state. However, some orangutans become incredibly attached to their trainers and other people and will return to the wildlife center whenever possible. Sometimes Matang even breeds orangutans and releases small family groups. Aman, one of the dominant male orangutans, is famous for having his vision restored by bilateral cataract surgery in 2007. Watching him move through his enclosure with such grace and strength, his long dreadlocked coat swinging back and forth, was a mesmerizing experience. With his wrinkled hands and shaggy mane, he looked like a cross between Chewbacca and the kind of old, tired hippie you might find at a Panic show. 

Aman spent quite a bit of time staring at us like this

Working on a nice hole in the ground

Sitting in strange positions

We spent the weekend wandering the park and playing in a wonderfully cool river just down the road. It was clearly a popular spot, crowded with local families grilling food, swimming, and taking turns on the rope swing.

Swimming hole

Sunset at the river

We ate dinner on Saturday in the longhouse with Tom and Tina and their son Eliah from Germany. Eliah is two years old and has been traveling his whole life (Tom and Tina left Germany by car two years ago and drove all the way to Cambodia). They have one more year of travel planned before returning to Germany when Eliah starts school. We played rummy and drank gross wine while bats flew around our heads scooping up mosquitoes.

On Sunday afternoon, we took a bus back to Kuching. We wandered the main street, walked around the enormous mosque, and browsed the food stalls. We ended up with a picnic dinner by the river consisting of rambutan fruit, peanut and molasses pancakes, and various meat on a stick - possibly chicken, fried sushi, and fish (although it could have been pigeon, rat, and/or cat).

Muslim temple

Sarawak river (most homes are on the opposite bank - frequent ferries to cross to the city center)

Getting down on some mysterious street vendor food

After an awkward encounter with immigration at the Kuching Airport (we had somehow immigrated into Western - peninsular - Malaysia and not East Malaysia, so we didn't have crossing stamps and of course I had already thrown out my old boarding pass), we managed to make it back to Singapore in one piece with money left over for the first time. We had the luxury of all the chocolate and coffee we wanted in the airport!

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Note: My camera died at the beginning of this trip, so props to Nick for being a huge dork and taking lots of pictures with his iPad.