Moving on part II

When you find yourself speeding against traffic without any change of heartbeat, when you notice you consequently cross roads without bothering to look left and right, assuming there will be a warning honk if you are in the way of something bigger and faster than you, it just might be about time to get your bags and move on. And so my visit to Cambodia nears its end. Halloween was over before I even knew it was there. I wonder if Christmas is going to be the same? And where I will be around that time of the year. I'm gonna miss this place, where the expats look like they just walked out of a 3rd rate gangster movie, and where a sloef of cigarettes (Marlboro indeed) costs only 7 euro's. Not that I smoke. But it's nice to know that it wouldn't cost me that much if I did. And in some cruel way, it's even more funny to know that those of you that do smoke, are paying way too much for it and don't even bother revolting against the governments and tobacco-companies for giving you all such a hard time. Hrrmph. (No, that is not the sound I make when I go to the toilet these days, as to be honest, most sounds that my body sems to make these days are the same for any kind of nature's call, big or small. Like Niagara waterfalls. But without the view. Still breathtaking tough, view or no view.) Hrmmph. (Ah yes, there it is again, it must be the sound of me objecting my mind for wandering off to far.)
Soksabai folks!

Depression

It is very very difficult to feel depressed in a country where smiling is a national sports! Just the notion that one has merely to point the corners of the mouth in upward direction, however faint, to make people give you their shiniest, glowing smiles! Try and feel cynical after 20 uch bypassers. Prozac will go bankrupt if they move their headquarters to Pnomh Penh. There's just no point in feeling bad to profoundly. Look at these people, butchered by the millions, smiling like on some super-high cloud, and oh so real all the time. Makes you wonder where we went wrong. (Actually, it doesn't, because when you smile, you don't feel like wondering about what went wrong. Content. Happy and content. That's the key to ban Prozac.) By the way, I do feel a little deranged lately, I'm not quite sure if it is because of my Lariam (Malaria-medicine) or because of this vague fever I've been having the last cuple of days. It sure must be tiring, smiling when one feels sick to the bone.

Soon in a theatre nearby!!

Nuages

Life on a motorbike can be quite stressing, as the traffic tends to come from all directions. But one does get some fine thrills riding his ridiculous 100 cc trough dusttown. The idea is to play cool. because 90 percent of traffic consists of 100 cc's. But you are not 90 percent, because you are a white caucasian wheeling between hundreds of Khmer. Yup, it's quite some fun, banging the horn before speeding by a motorbike crammed with people (with a maximum of 5 up till now. Fairness obliges me to say that one of five is a less than 4 year old. mostly these little fellas just stand in front of the bike, holding the steering wheel as if they are driving the darned thing! Another nice feature of driving in Asia is the many nice looking and Amazone-style seated Asian women and girls, they just have this extra quality, this aura of subtleness and refinedness around them, even on the most bumpy roads, they just sit there, straight backs, proud figure, fine curves. Ahem. Well, let's just say these are some fine mirages to see passing by when drying out on some dusty road somewhere between no places. Ahh, the elegance of these creatures. And with the sun comes the sunshield, in case of the white and blue uniformed schoolgirls it comes in the form of a book, in case of the fruit-sellers it comes as a dish that otherwise is situatd on their heads instead of in front of it. But they hold these sunshields with such grace. And they never have their arms around the driver, to make it even more perfect. They just sit there, galloping trough the bumpy and crazy wild east almost unmoved As the landscapes pass by their toned faces they just look asd if they are sitting on a porch, waiting for the bus. But waiting with elegance. Maybe the prince could pass by. (Maybe they wouldn't even twitch an eyebrow, just to keep their distant elegance.) One could sit on a balcony by the side of the road for hours and not get tired of drifting off, just like kids laying on their backs looking at the clouds going over them. Such bliss, thank god for 100 cc's, and thank Khmer mothers for bringing such fine visions to life...

Life on the road. Sayonara.

After crossing the border with Cambodia, one feels like entering a new story all together. Mind you, crossing the border is quite an experience, with many touts and hustlers trying to separate the adventurous traveller from his precious money. The area between the Thai Immigration post and the Cambodian Immigration post is like some sort of a free-trade zone, it's like the wild west in the south-east, magnificent! Take your dvd of Star Wars, or rent one, and view any chapter in which our heroes are stranded in one of the many freezones, Jabba De Hut (Is that spelled correctly? Do I actually care) and friends all over the place. It is a very thriliing experience, with all kind of goodies for the less moral traveller. In fact, there are some no-mans-land hotels and casinos in the small strip between the two borders. Legal or illegal doesn't count here, as there is no authority to question it. And once past the Interzone (Naked Lunch does come close to the experience), it is amazing to ride at a maximum speed of 40 kilometres an hour to Siem Reap, some 180 kilometres from the border. The road is a legend amongst many scammed travellers, as there are potholes that could make entire cars disappear if not avoided. Somehow the road is not being improved, even tough many other roads in Cambodia are improving at a high rate. Probably some bribes from local guesthouses are helping in keeping the road in such a bad condition. It allows them to make the exhausted travellers stay in their overpriced guesthouse, instead of arriving fresh and at an early time in Siem Reap. Travelling in Cambodia is quite a different experience all togehter, until three years ago nobody ever went faster than 80 kilometres an hour in this country, not because of some law, but simply because of the roads. I don't know if it is such a good idea to improve them, as yesterday I saw the meter go beyond the 140 kilometres an hour. This is the Highway from Pnomh Pen to Sihanoukville, 1 Lane in each direction, and no potholes. Many shabby motorcarts packed with sometimes 20 people, and all kinds of unnamable means of transportation crowd this road. At dark, and with tractors and the lot not having any lights, i felt rather nervous. I didn't know if I had to be happy because the experience would be over in less than 2 hours, or if I should wish the old days of bad roads back into this part of the country. Anyway, the drivers in general seem to be more cautious than in neighbouring countries such as Vietnam and Thailand. Thai drivers are a lot cockier, frantically driving at any maximum speed their vehicle and the traffic allows them. In Cambodia, people seem to have more time. Maybe they lost too many of their friends and relatives for the wrong reasons during their tumultuous past. It does feel safer to hit the road here. Another funny thing is the crossroads. Many people seem to be oblivious of the meaning of these funny lights above their heads. Red light doesn't slow them down. Somebody explained to me that indeed, many people driving a car or motorbike just buy their license, if any, and the practical side of traffic will follow by experience. If they do stop for the red light, it is because they see it for the first time, and wonder about it's presence. Same for the other colours. Indeed, the police seem to be very patient and when my driver once drove into a one-way street, he was stopped to be explained that the red signpost with the horizontal white line in the middle of ot meant that he could not enter this street. (there is only a couple of them in the capital anyway.) No fine was given, just a little lecture in traffic-signs. Wonderful.

The famous Durian, praised for his potency, feared for its rotten smell. Forbidden on all aircon-buses to be transported. Available at your local green-hatted street-vendor.

Chinatown in Bangkok, just another day of overload: sounds, smells and people...

Day and night

In the day everybody is smiling and the dogs are lazy. But in the night a dark alley will become a real adrenalin rush as you step into the darkness and wonder what lays ahead. One alley seemed to be never-ending as I heard a mean growl coming from behind, so the only opyion was on into the darkness. Towards what I hoped to be a door or a corner that would lead me out in the bigger streets of Banglamphu. Every step I took I seemed to piss this hellish beast off more, according to the volume and intensity of the growling. Except for the sounds of his paws on the asphalt, I couldn't make anything out of it's position. But it seemed too close and too unhealthy to wander around wondering if it would be a nice pink little poodle. Boy, that was the longest minute in Thailand, as I Realized sitting on the nice seat of some Cambodian chair, tapping away on the computer. Here, monkeys are my main concern. But they seem to be incomprehensive of my Flash, for now it holds them at safe distance...

across the river there is this scientifically approved museum where medical students and tourists (say, Japanese and some lost reportes) can examine the bodies of strange but real phenomenae.

Subtle signs of decomposing behaviour...

When one stays long enough in the seedy nightlife of Bangkok, one gets the feeling that there is allways a new experience awaiting behind the bitter taste of the last one. While going out in the Irish pub on Koa Shan road, the one with the live band, one does not want to know what other surprises to expect after the lead singer starts her wolfish interpretation of the Cranberries. (yes, that song; "Oh my Head, Aargh my heaejiejhead") Well, like most things in this city, beauty and horror are going hand in hand. The Thai band seems to play a numerous covers of coldplay, Red Hot chilli Peppers, and Maroon 5's latest and only hit, "This Love". Whitch they play between every other song, by the way. Now, the band plays quite fine, I admit, and the aircondition is helping to make me stay as well, but the intriguing voice of the singer is really making me wonder if everybody is drinking because this is an Irish pub or just because of her. At one moment she has the voice of an angel, crystal clear and steady as my heartbeat. Hmm, steadier. But then, without warning, and without any major changes in the vocal requirements of the song, she sounds like the processed diet lavements while hurrying out of Koen Crucke's not so pittoresque exit-..
It doesn't stop people from dancing tough, and surely not from drinking. That this might be an unwise thing to do in Bangkok was becoming clear when one of the enthusiastic front-row dancers, a drunk English fella that consistently removed his shirt after one of his accompagning ladies put it back where it belonged, started to put a "No weapons" on his head. Quite soon, say, about three seconds after the sign was on top of his head, a Thai bouncer stood beside him. Well, bouncers in Thailand invariably are smaller than all present foreigners, but this doesn't ever seem to bother them from looking malicious into the drunken crowd. I've never seen one fight either. They tend to take care of things without Americanized bloody and punchy violence. Tonight I saw why this guys never start sweating when the next oversized drunk hamburger is making too much nuisance. As he politely pointed out that the sign was a no-touch/no-play sign, he subtly moved his upper body so that whilst talking to the unnoticing Farang, his gun would show under his shirt. Off course everybody noticed excpet the one that should have gotten the point, and the ladies allready started to sweat like no air-conditioned lady has ever sweat. (It is rumored that they don't sweat even when taking on a full-sized, locked-and-loaded rugby-squad, provided they have their airconditioning running. This however should be another story, and not one I'm willing to be part of.) So sure enough, not even one minute after the bouncer was out of sight, the sign was back on the red swollen head of the Englishman. Again, in no less than three seconds the bouncer was back at his side. Looking a little bit annoyed because of the short time memory of this boozing chap. Not sure if he had gotten the point last time, this time he did his trick a little bit less subtle. By this time, one of the ladies had managed to make the sign disappear before it fell into the hands of their beloved ATM-machine again. Love conquers all, they say, but that again will be an entirely different story and so far it doesn't include me...
When I left a little later, no blood was spilled, no faces lost, and time had slipped by again. Three o'clock in the morning, one would say by the sounds of the undistinguished animals that lived on the nearby temple-grounds. As I was enjoying my late night walk, I suddenly found myself standing in front of a very explosive spectacle. Two seemingly drunk Thai men where performing a strange ritual. So it seemed. Many other Thai and some waisted Farang stood by on a safe distance. Unshocked. One of the two had acquired a pole of some sort, maybe a parasol, and was trying to hit the other one on his head. I think he meant to go for the head, as the other body parts were spared considerably. The other one had found himself a plastic seat, that seemed to crumble bit by bit s it took the blows from his foe. I gathered from the bystanders body-language and facial expressions that this was a normal thing to see at three o'clock in the morning, so I decided to pass. I had to slip past the two odd-dancing figures, and while trying to slip past them, I could hear the pole swooshing as it went over my head. The audience gasped, and some thai vowels where shouted to the men. Sudenly, the chair became useless for the defendant, as the agressor dropped his pole and went up close to strike some uncontrolled blows on the defendants head. "How considerate", I remembered thinking,"these two chaps are having a disagreement of some sorts and instead of making me go around the block they just drop their zulu-weapons and fight like proper drunks, barefooted and bare-handed. All this not to hurt the bypassers. My my, some fine fella's they are indeed." Anyway, as I was moing on, I heard the spectacle was climbing to a highlight, and sure enough, from around the corner people started showing up to see the best part. Funny thing is, they all seemed to have been around that corner somewhere all the time. Because there wasn't much of a place to sit, drink, or eat in sight. And while they ran past me, they ran past a little spirit-house, and sure enough, even at this time of the night, while 7 metres further somebody was getting a red nose and blue eyes, these litle quiet people would make a Wai for the spirits, as not to upset them of course. Amazing Bangkok.

Chao Praya cruises

Life in Bangkok is chaotic though organized in some subconscious way. What's my point? Hmm, yes, no point, I just wanted to put some pics here, unedited, so here's a pic from a man sitting on one of the many boats that carry the river's excessive sand to a better place. And if one stays in Bangkok and wants to move around by day but still relax, one should do like this fella and take a boat on the river, or in one of the Khlongs (canals) that run trough Bangkok. It's smooth, swift and will get you at your destination in a reasonable timespan. (well, close enough to grab a motorbike and freak out while sizzling trough crazy traffic until the final destination is reached.) Beware for possible drops of not so fresh (read: "open sewer") river water. One drop will make you dizzy for a good three hours, toothpasting included.
Sayonara..

The nights in Bangkok...

And hello again dear friends... Seems like it's finally slipping into my system, the feeling that I'm somewhere far, far away from Home.. Well, it's not such a bad feeling now, it's more or less a vague reminder that this time I'm in it for the three month-package. At least I'm adapting to this simmering heat that you can only escape by going out for a bite or some shopping in the many malls this city has.
When you start going out without your map of Bangkok in your pocket, you know you are getting adapted to this city and it's strange rules...
And when you wake up one morning on someone's couch instead of in your guesthouse room, you know you are getting more than just a taste of this city..
Well, if you wake up in a big house where all is quit and you notice a big box full of happy grass next to that couch you never saw before, maybe it's time to pack your gear and get going...
Nevertheless I couldn't help myself but go up he stairs and get a little peek. First floor, a happy couple is sleeping trough their hangover and the bruises of last night's wild ride. I remember the girl had a big bruise on her head when we entered the house, and she explained she had shattered a plate from the household on her head, because she was angry with her boyfriend. A friendly Irish boy, currently teaching one of many English courses in the Thai industry. When asked for a reason, she explained she could not hit him on the head, because then he would be in pain and maybe get himself hurt. She didn't want that to happen... Guess she wasn't mad enough to hurt him, but crazy enough to proof her angry feelings. The boy in return had a bruised index-finger, and claimed he too had suffered because of their dispute. He had gotten his finger in the fan by accident and got pissed off at the fan so smashed it. Thus leading to the smashing of the plate, as the owner of the fan wasn't too happy with is course of action... Now everything was settled tough, and as I swa them snoring, arms and legs mixed in a tender noodle-style, I went off to the next floor. I expected to get a glimpse of what is known as nearly every healthy man's wet dream: 2 girls curled into each other nakedly and uncovered. Alas, seems like they hadn't kept their promise and had slept in their evening gowns. No problem, close but no cigar still gets me smoking... Alas again, one of the two girls was obviously missing.. She must have slipped past the couch without me noticing. Not too difficult a task as you consider the amount of Lariam and happy grass mixing in my system.. But still, there was the little girl that looked 16 but was allready a full 25 years old. The one that made me end up in this sleepy house of happy disorder. Mind you, she never forced me to do anything, unless smiling innocently and dancing so ferociously sensual that Mata Hari herself would blush is considered forcing...
She lay there, unaware of this big hairy Belgian with his 5 o"clock shadow and red eyes whom were resting on her... THey way she calmly snoozed her way trough the first part of the day was quite a happy sight, and to make this memory last longer I decided to leave unnoticed and on to my dampy hot guesthouse. Apart from a little breakfast set-up in their kitchen I left no sign of my visit to their house, and just sat smiling foolishly on some public bus that took me not even near to my point of origin. Well, who bothers?
Sanuuk dii khap!!
Soon I will be boarding the train to Kanchanaburi, where the ill-famous Bridge over the no less famous river Kwai lays. Several thousands POW died here, laying the hands on a trail that should eventually have led to Istanbul.
Greetings...