Rice and Rain

One benefit to cross-crossing the region by bus is the brief but telling glimpses into people's daily routines that we've gotten along the way. From my bus-based observations, two central things punctuate these routines during this time of year -- rice planting and rainfall, which themselves go hand in hand. During every ride through Viet Nam, Laos, and Cambodia, we see people out in the fields, hunched over to replant the small rice plants into larger paddies (they are first grown on a small plot, and then when sufficiently large/the timing is right, they are spread out), and then waiting for the rain to come. The rain starts and stops many things, both in the city and across the rural landscapes -- stops work in much of the city (barring those unaffected in office buildings), starts play in the mud and water for children, starts growing of the rice and other crops, brings traffic nearly to a halt (or at least slows it a great deal). In Cambodia especially the rains have come down in monsoonal sheets -- we looked on, sitting next to local shopkeepers and passersby also escaping the rain, all of us in awe of the sheer quantity, the power to destroy (roads, roofs), and of course to provide an abundance of rice, in all its different varieties.

Our trips through the countryside have also offered us glimpses of families and individuals partaking in other activities, ones I usually think of as those that happen alone or behind the walls of our homes. Around 5 pm, men, women and children begin to bathe (often separated by gender but still in groups) in a nearby river, pond or at a communal water pump -- men in their briefs, women more modestly covered in a sarong which they wear into the water. From the bus, they look to be having a great deal of fun, and our own solitary showers and baths, perhaps more luxurious, seem quite boring in comparison. Once clean, the cooking of dinner begins, a process also visible from the nearby road, and the families ready to sit down for their evening meal. Through I feel a bit like a voyeur, I relish this brief insight into the daily rhythms of these countries still unfamiliar to me.

Phnom Penh

We spent a wonderful two days in Cambodia's capital city, much of our energy focused on sampling what the different food stalls had on offer. For those of you that are reading exclusively for these kinds of details, highlights included a delicious and thick soup (coconut and maybe fish-based, but I hope just coconut), with all kinds of fresh veggies, bean sprouts, etc. mixed in and flavored with chili paste, vinegars, some sugar. Cambodia also featured a new noodle for us, about 3 in long and tapered at both ends, kind of like a big white worm and spectacular in soups and stir fries alike. Anyone seem something like this in the US?

We've also spent time learning a bit more about Cambodia's recent history, which I admit I knew very little about before coming here. There is much to wrap one's head around, but a visit to S-21, a prison, interrogation and torture center established by the Khmer Rouge (ruled the country from 1975-78), began to shed light on the horrors of that time period -- work camps, mass graves, forced separations of families, rooting out of intellectuals. I won't go into detail here as it does not seem the appropriate place, but one must ask how we let this happen again and again, across different countries, and how to stop if from happening again (our bearing witness to past atrocities and genocides not being enough). My limited understanding of this traumatic period also makes me wonder to what extent the actions, lives, decisions of Cambodians today should be understood and filtered through the events that took place during the Khmer Rouge's rule.

Sorry to end on such a serious note -- more (uplifting posts) from us soon.

Moving along the Mekong in Southern Laos

Yes well, posting hasn't really happened as frequently as hoped, but there is either too much excitement or no internet. I'll try to get us up to speed here.

After a surprisingly painless 24 hour bus ride down from Luang Nam Tha to Vientiane and some time in Vientiane getting our Cambodia visas and learning Lao cookery, we made our way down to Champasak, home of Wat Phu Champasak. The wat is a World Heritage Site (our third so far on the trip) and apparently home to the most impressive ruins in Laos. We rented bikes to travel the five miles from our guest house and enjoyed our sunniest day thus far. Of course the blinding sun addled my brain and caused me to forget the camera that day, but I suppose we'll always have our memories...

The temple represents the spread of Hinduism and then Buddhism across the Mekong river and into the Bolavan Plateau, and both of these religions are lumped on top of the animistic beliefs of the Angkor people who lived here. While most of the temple has crumbled, many stunning sculptures of both Hindu and Buddhist dieties are preserved in a nearby museum. It's amazing to see how some of the forms are conserved over time - a new concrete water pump at the Cambodian-Laos border had almost exactly the same design as a fountain of the wat from the 11th century.

That night we found a restaurant all to ourselves where I had a really extraordinary fish soup - lemongrass, a sour flavor, some galanga root (possibly related to ginger?). I'm a bit unclear as to all of the ingredients, but it was a nice way to end the day.

We continued our journey south the next day, once again following the Mekong, this time towards a group of islands in the middle of the river called Si Phan Don, literally "four thousand islands". About the Mekong: we've been traveling along the river for the last week, and while it was fairly wide up in Luang Pra Bang, down here it is absolutely huge (and when we crossed it a few days later on our way to Phenom Penh it was positively ginormous). It's well above the usual banks and a dark muddy brown from the water and sediment brought by all the rain we've had. Despite it all the surface barely ripples.

After waking up to roosters once again, we flagged down a bus heading to a ferry that would take us back across the river. As soon as the bus stopped at the "ferry terminal" (a dirt road leading into the water) it was suddenly full of vendors hawking bamboo skewers loaded with a cornucopia of meat products. I got some chicken and sticky rice. Apparently it was buy two sticks of chicken and get a free stick of the chicken's organs day, but 7am is a little early for chicken heart in my book.

Once across the river the bus headed north without us, leaving us at a dusty intersection where we waited for a southbound public bus, which is fancy word for a pickup truck with some wooden benches and a steel cage over the bed. When the first one arrived we successfully bargained down the foreigner price to the Lao price (we knew we were there when we got furtive thumbs up from bus occupants). Soon I was squished next to an old woman with lips stained red from the betel nut she was chewing, and Elyse sat with a woman who offered her lotus flower seeds and a small boy who offered to drool on her.

Whenever the bus stopped, fresh sticks of bbq'd creatures were once again thrust into our faces. An alarming number of passengers bought an alarming variety of creatures, including crickets on a stick and a variety of small rodents with furry claws still attached. Of course, half the fun of buying crickets on a stick is making the white guy eat one, so I was compelled to crunch and swallow the poor guy. You see, I studied weta in New Zealand for a month way back when, so I have some love for members of the order Orthoptera, but I have to admit the cricket wasn't half bad.

When we return: lounging in Si Phan Don, exploring the charms and terrifying history of Phenom Penh, and the curious incident of the dog in the night time.