Sitting in the back seat of the taxi, the weasely little driver’s intentions were obvious, as he furtively glanced at the meter every half second and licked his lips, driving as slowly and legally as possible, decelerating at every traffic light to insure a red light, adopting the cloak of a model citizen as he never sounded his horn or cut off another car or motorbike, nor once swerved recklessly around pedestrians, all to maximize the meter charge on the relatively short 6 km drive from the bus stop to the train station.
We had planned on taking the 3 hour train from Ninh Binh to
Hanoi at 6:00 AM, but when we arrived at the station at 5:30 in the morning, we
were informed the train was full and wasn’t stopping, despite the fact the
computer had printed our ticket the night before. As we stood around debating
our next move, a local bus drove by and we got on, and two hours later were deposited
in Hanoi, where
hordes of blue coated touts immediately swarmed the bus like flies on meat. We
were anxious to purchase our overnight once a week train ticket to Guilin, China,
something that can only be done in person at the Hanoi train station. In the end it all
worked
out, and we then proceeded to the Sheraton Hanoi, where we cashed some hotel points
and enjoyed the privilege of platinum status.
Ninh Binh was a surprising, last minute decision, a non descript little town just south of Hanoi, noted for it’s limestone karsts set amid the greenest rice paddies you can imagine, certainly a worthwhile 2-3 day stopover. For $16, we rented two drivers with motorbikes for an all day cruise through the countryside, where we stopped by Tam Coc to drift down the Ngo Dong river as it flows through a series of four caves (where people row with their feet), visited an ancient pagoda clawed from a rocky outcrop, walked the grounds of the former capital (Hoa Lu), shopped at the Van Lan embroidery village, and simply digested some of the most amazing landscapes we’ve seen so far on our trip – spectacular rocky outcroppings covered in velvety green vegetation poking up through muddy rice paddies, littered with local farmers in
their conical hats and water buffaloes framing famous Vietnamese montages. Be forewarned to get here soon; regrettably, they’re building a 4 lane road and parallel water canal that soon will weave among these wonderful karsts, allowing tourist buses and theme boats ‘better’ access – however, it’s magical just the way it is now, as you meander down local roads and escape through villages, marveling at the beauty so unique to this area of the world.
Hanoi – ‘The City in a Bend of a River’ - has been an ancient center of commerce for 1000 years and is blessed with many natural lakes and parks. Hoan Kiem Lake lies at the heart of the capital, accented by the island temple of Ngoc Son, with narrow arterial streets radiating northward into the Old and French Quarters, revealing ‘tunnel’ homes (so named for their narrow street frontage to minimize taxes) and allowing timeless glimpses into the past with a savoring for the future, as plaque like hawkers hug the curbs, selling everything from pineapples to cheap Teva knockoffs, and locals
relax over a sip of coffee or a game of cards while frenzied motorbikes swarm the knotted network of streets, everywhere French-colonial structures stand in evidence to bygone days, and upscale restaurants portend the future. We passed the evenings down the street, a cloverleaf crossroad fronted by four local beer (‘Bia Hoi’) establishments, where both tourists and locals spill into the street in their Lilliputian plastic chairs, quaffing fifteen cent pints of local brew, watching the orderly chaos of motorbikes urgently dash through the intersection.
One of the highlights of Hanoi is the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, where the body of this former beloved leader lies in state, and where blocks of worshippers line up daily to pay their respects. Considering that Uncle Ho has been dead since 1969, we’re surprised that after almost fifty years, local Vietnamese still stand in line for a viewing. We finally mounted the steps of the air conditioned building after an hour or so of snaking around and got our first peek at the revered leader, who looked waxen to us, despite what the government says. Uncle Ho also gets a three month hiatus every year, when he’s sent off to Russia for a minor ‘tune-up’.
On another overcast day, we headed down to the wildly imaginative Ho Chi Minh Museum, early in the afternoon under drizzly skies, to see the historic interpretation of his life and struggle to gain independence for Vietnam. When we left the museum after a few hours, not only were we left with an indelible positive impression of the man - his sincerity and genuine love and compassion for his country and it’s people - but the slight drizzle has turned into quite a deluge and we hastily jumped on our number ‘33’ bus heading in the opposite direction, thinking it would be better to get on now and ride the circuit than wait for one going in the opposite direction. Well, the deluge got much worse and as our bus headed downtown the streets became flooded, traffic ground to a halt, and rather than complete the bus route, our driver abandoned his itinerary and told everyone to get off, which we did reluctantly, and although the rain had let up, we had no idea where we were.
Since traffic was at a standstill in the streets, everyone with a motorbike then took the liberty of utilizing the sidewalk for their avenue of escape, so for blocks and blocks you had both streets and sidewalks chock full of motorbikes impatiently trying to edge ahead, while vulnerable pedestrians gingerly pirouetted around them, cautiously avoiding the hot muffler pipes, everyone in one massive free for all, selfishly scanning for a sliver of progress as we all inched toward the center of town. A very nice local kid steered us in the right direction, and we finally cleared the logjam and secured egress to a relatively empty street, where we finally caught our familiar bus ‘33’ back to the hotel, the 15 minute bus ride that transpired into a 3 hour adventure.
While in Hanoi, everyone visits Halong Bay, an amazing bay of water studded with 1,969 limestone karst formations,created thousands of years ago by a series of earthquakes which forcefully thrust rocky formations upwards from the sea, and which is designated a UNESCO World Heritage site. Everyone in town sells 1, 2 or 3 day tours to this destination, with varying degrees of prices relative to your required comfort level. We opted for midrange comfort, so for $200, we had one night on a boat, and two nights at a bizarre hotel on Cat Ba island with ML Escher-like confusing stairwells, most of the meals, kayaking, trekking to a local village for lunch, and a visit to the aptly named ‘Amazing Cave’. It is impressive to cruise and marvel at these wonders of nature, although we were a little disappointed at the
water quality – quite a bit of trash. Honestly, it’s certainly worth seeing, but one night on the boat would probably satisfy your appetite for Halong Bay, and we thought the limestone karsts in the rice paddies of Ninh Binh to be just as dramatic. Just hope for nice weather.
Back in Hanoi after Halong Bay, we moved to a new small hotel downtown in the Old Quarter for the last two nights, before we headed out to China, it being more conveniently located and closer to the urbanity and vitality of the city itself. Did I say urbanity and vitality? When we returned to the hotel the first night around 10:30 PM, we discovered our little hotel so cozily ensconced at the end of this quiet street, away from the motorbikes and frenzy of the Old Quarter, was actually right next door to a dance club, and our room pulsated with the moronic, one chord, heavy techno bass beat, destroying not only our serenity, but certainly the hearing sense of those poor souls inside the club. I like loud music but this was at another whole level of decibels. Mercifully, they ended at 11:30, otherwise, we would have had to move again.
Nonetheless, it was the perfect end to a wonderful and inspiring month long journey through Vietnam, a destination other travelers cautioned would not be friendly – where Americans were not welcomed and crime was prevalent. Yet, the people could not have been friendlier or more welcoming, the culture more inviting and genuine, the attractions more unique.
From sampling the local Bia Hoi brew to marveling at the
startling karsts of Ninh Binh and Halong Bay, from the tailors of Hoi An to the
windswept red sand dunes of Mui An, Vietnam is a welcoming and surprisingly
easy country to visit, with great ethnic food (including the famous weasel
coffee, formulated by force-feeding coffee beans to the animals, then
harvesting the output – which are evidently undigested - yes, they crap out the coffee beans), widespread
transportation, and a list of worthwhile destinations to easily fill a month.
And maybe we’ll be like the many other people who return to pay their respects
to Uncle Ho, just to check once more, how long can Uncle Ho last?
One last thing - we were having problems connecting to our blog in China. Since we're using network connections in China, I'm assigned an IP address that identifies my computer as being used from within China, and thus prevents access to certain websites including our blog. However, there is this nifty piece of software that I purchased that you run prior to surfing the internet that changes your IP address to one from another country (it searches around for available IP addresses, I'm not sure how it figures this out). So, even though I'm sitting in China and using a Chinese connection, it thinks I'm in America or Brazil or Australia or India - this morning I had an Ethiopian connection that was amazingly fast - and that's even more remarkable ! So, screw the Chinese censors, we're back on line..Next posting will be about Guilin in Southern China, then another soon to follow about this captivating little area we're now in - Yangshuo - that deserves it's own blog, since it's going to be another, if not our favorite place...
We’re now traveling through Southern China having taken a train out of Vietnam on 30-April. As of 06-May, we’re in the town of Yangshuo, a very scenic location about an hour south of Guilin, where we’ll be staying for the next 10-14 days. Within China, 10% of all Web sites are censored/blocked, unfortunately, our www.pfeffer.vox.com is one of these ‘taboo’ sites, so for now we’re unable to post or even view our blog. Rather than transfer everything to a new blog site that is accessible within China (and there are quite a few), we’ll wait until we’re in Hong Kong the end of May and post our accumulated entries then. Perhaps as we move through other Chinese provinces, the situation will change, but for now, there’s not much we can do.
Trust that we’re both safe and sound and that we’ll be traveling through China until 19-July – our itinerary will be Guilin, Yangshuo, Guangzhou, Hong Kong, Xiamen, Shanghai, Xian, and Beijing (with other stops along this main route). We’d really like to get to Lhasa on the new railroad, but this is not possible right now – maybe in another month when we’re in Xian things will open up. We will be in Beijing the beginning of July to hook up with our Trans-Mongolian train across Russia (leaving 19-July).
Travel in China takes a little patience – modern and clean, very few people speak English, most everything is signed in Chinese, and there are crowds of people wherever you turn, yet very few westerners. Despite these challenges, the people are friendly and eager to understand and help you, while we’ve learned the basic phrases to get by and communicate. Still, simple things, like figuring out a cheap calling card for our cell phone, took up the better part of two days, and Marge is still trying to get a prescription filled at a Chinese pharmacy.
All in all, the next few months will test our independent travel stamina and ingenuity, as we navigate our way across the huge expanse of China, employing local buses and trains on our way north. Stay tuned for more updates as we try to keep everyone up to date on our current status.
As the pretty young gal efficiently read my measurements and
relayed them to her helper, who distractedly recorded them in a paper notebook,
I attempted mental conversions from centimeters to inches – the circumference
of my neck, the size of my biceps, the volume of my crotch, the girth of my
thighs, the width of my shoulders, the span of my calves, the apex of my navel,
the breadth of my hips, the thickness of my wrist, reflecting on how, up to
now, my only concern was waist size and inseam length. Why, today of all hot days, did I not wear my underwear ?
In Hoi An, famous for its custom clothing, everything is made based on individual shape, where blocks of retail tailors are interspersed with sweat shop sewing factories lined with workers and their machines (best workers earn $60/month). What began as an innocent new travel shirt - two zipper pockets hidden by Velcro
flaps in a lightweight cotton fabric - greedily ended three days later, with a smart charcoal grey wool overcoat, a classic cashmere wool suit, a pair of cotton pants having three hidden zipper pockets, and another print shirt, all made to order overnight, with everything ultimately stuffed in one box for the three month sea mail journey back to the states. Shop around and interview a few establishments before making a commitment, perhaps starting with a simple shirt (as we did) to determine their workmanship. Had I not been so reliant on flip flops, I would have had some custom shoes made at the same time.
Hoi An is everyone’s favorite town in Vietnam, in fact, it may be my favorite spot so far in Southeast Asia. Whether you choose to walk the many blocks of ancient town and admire the centuries old architecture or dine at one of the many outdoor cafes along the riverfront, or day trip to the My Son ruins, or ride bicycles to the local beach, or just lounge at one of the many inexpensive hotels, it’s difficult to imagine a
more perfect town. From the huggable little grammas wandering the colorful lantern lit alleys late at night in their silken pajamas, to the family run restaurant we frequented often (Café 43), the people of this town are disarmed easily with a quick smile and hello (‘sing ciao’ is how it sounds). Compact, cultural, charismatic, charming, colorful, Hoi An has something for everyone, and every adjective from A-Z could be applied to this little gem of a destination.
The day trip to the My Son ruins, about 40 km outside of town, was an especially interesting and high value venture. Built in the 12th century by the Cham dynasty, the ruins themselves are in varying states of disrepair, in fact, parts of them were bombed during the Vietnam war, yet the ones still intact were impressive in the steamy jungle setting. On the way home, we opted for the optional boat ride, stopping at a woodcarving island, and soaking up the cool breezes. It continues to be very hot in Vietnam, but we hope that as we move north into China, it will cool somewhat.
There are many interesting shops scattered throughout town, although predominantly clothing, as well as a very colorful local market, where I foolishly glanced a millisecond too long at this hat for which the lady wanted 180,000 dong ($10), and then patiently suffered her insistent and persistent nagging as she followed after me, beseeching me, begging me to be her first good luck sale of the day, repeatedly crossing out the price on her etch-a-sketch as we tangoed past the bananas and papayas – 160,000 – 150,000 – 140,000 – 130,000 – 120,000 – 110,000, while I continued to emphatically decline her offer, telling her I didn’t care for the hat at any price, until after 15 minutes of her pitiful pleading, I fitfully relented at 32,000 dong ($2), not so much because I wanted the hat, but more so because her Emmy winning theatrics were entertaining. And actually, the hat is not so bad after all.
Next stop up the road was the old capital of Vietnam, Hue, about 2 hours away, but with these tour buses, you stop many times, mostly unnecessarily, so the trip actually took 5 hours. Along the way we stopped at this really lonely stretch of beach where the waves were perfect for boogie boarding and the restaurant probably provided kickbacks to the bus drivers. It had perfect boogie board waves, but evidently no one rents anything, otherwise we may have gotten off the bus and stayed a day or two before continuing on.
The main attraction in Hue is the Citadel, a 10 kilometer walled square where much of the population resides. Within this structure are various other imperial structures and temples, with porcelain encrusted entrance gates, intricately carved support columns, all in varying stages of repair (again, many of the structures were bombed during Vietnam war). What we’ll remember most about Hue is the hotel we stayed, a rare one night stand – after traveling all over the world, staying at many very, very nice hotels, this is the first time that we got a room that came with a computer for our personal use - that and a huge balcony overlooking the city
for $12/night.
The new travel clothes also triggered a fresh evaluation of our bags, and forced a bit of triage, since we’re traveling so light, every new thing displaces something old, something we tend to do every few weeks. Right now we’re a little top heavy in books since we tend to acquire them in exchange whenever we can – many of the books you find here are copies, of sometimes poor quality, with little trade in value. Oh, did I mention Marge’s two traditional Ao Dai silk dresses and a couple pair of pants? If we didn’t need to get this show on the road, I would have returned to our favorite tailor for even more bargains. After all, even with postage, it all came to $302 – my complete suit being the most costly at $75…
I couldn’t decide what was most annoying about our frustrated NASCAR wannabe driver, the fact that he felt inclined to check his cell phone for messages every 5 minutes, or the sporting way he slalomed around potholes and cow pies, or the irritating habit he had of impatiently sounding his horn (which sounded like a warbling sore-throated yodeler) at everything, or the paranoid and claustrophobic behavior he exhibited whenever another vehicle blocked his right of way and he felt obliged to pass (and lay on his horn of course)….
We were packed 12 people plus luggage in a 9 passenger
minivan for the 5 hour ride from the beach town of Mui Ne
to
the hill town of Dalat in central Vietnam.
Fortunately, I nabbed the shotgun seat while Marge got a middle row next to a
young and pleasant Australian mate. As I gazed over the carpeted dashboard
adorned with a bottle of perfume, a smiling Buddha statue, a small vase of
fresh flowers, and an oversized beanie baby knockoff, I alternatively kept
telling myself, this better be worth it and I hope to live long enough to see China.
Windswept Mui Ne was a soothing respite from the hustle of Saigon, an isolated and quiet 6 mile ribbon of sand, predictably famous for windsurfing and kite flying. We stayed at a very nice little resort (Little Mui Ne Cottages), and did nothing more than lay around the pool, re-tan, and recharge our batteries for the next leg of our journey. It felt good to be back on the beach, something we last did the end of January, although I’m only good for a few days before getting restless to move on.
Mui Ne is rapidly becoming a developed beach community, with new growth prevalent along it’s shores, due to it’s proximity to Saigon, yet still retains it’s flavor as a local fishing community, with colorful and sturdy boats littering the beach, and nighttime squid fisherman lit up like a string of pearls (we had the best squid here at a small family run restaurant across the street – the Golden Sunlight). During the day the local fisherman would bravely challenge the choppy seas in round little wicker baskets called coracles (see pictures), setting their nets and bouncing around like cheap bobble head dolls, seemingly always on the brink of teetering over and drowning.
People flock to Dalat for the cool weather, fresh air and pastoral rural scenery. Although the town is pleasant enough, there’s an imbalance between the number of hotels and good restaurants and bars/cafes. By far, the best parts of Dalat are in the surrounding hills, visited easily and enjoyably by employing the self proclaimed and ubiquitous ‘Easy Riders’, a popular excursion where you buddy up on a motorbike with one of the locals. For $20/person, you ride on the back with your driver for the day,
welcoming the fresh air and appreciating the many sites and sounds of Vietnam - mud encrusted water buffaloes languishing in verdant rice paddies, the secretive cicadas shrieking in the hot air, chocolate colored rivers snaking through coffee plantations, gardens meticulously scalloped from the hillsides, lovely young ladies dressed in snow flake white traditional Ao Dai dresses riding their bikes home from school, farmers in their recognizable triangle hats toiling in the fields, and locals on the side of the road selling the fruits of their labor
One of the more fascinating sites we visited was the non OSHA
approved silk factory, where young girls collected and boiled mulberry cocoons,
stripping and entangling the individual silk strands on spools that mechanically
wound the multiple threads together. The factory was hot, the ruckus of the
machinery overbearing, the potential for accidents imposing, as these ancient machines
wound the silk,
and the poor young gals slaved away. I was particularly
fascinated by this 200 year old Rube Goldberg, very clever, old fashioned contraption
that ingested thousands of individual silk threads on one side, fed them
through these dirty old cardboard pattern regulating templates on top, and magically
transformed the strands into a delightful woven silk fabric
embellished with elaborate patterns.
Other stops included a home based noodle factory, where the entire family toils all day in a hot building, boiling, slicing, and packaging rice noodles for distribution to local markets, the wonderful Elephant Falls with a very funny and jolly giant white Buddha, lunch at a very local eating establishment overlooking the valley, a building designer gone mad Crazy House, and a mushroom farm with adjoining rice distillery. We continue to be impressed by the zealousness and capitalist spirit displayed by so many people, willing to work so hard under such poor conditions to make a better life for themselves and their families.
From Dalat, we cruised downhill in a minivan (very comfortable 3 hours) to the seaside town of Nha Trang, the trip notable for the very bizarre naked guy walking down the middle of the road as we rounded a corner. There must be some local competition for who can drive from Dalat to Nha Trang the fastest, since there would be no other reason for our driver to act with such reckless abandon, all the while carrying on a non stop conversation with the cute gal sitting next to him.
Nha Trang, an upscale beach community, is nestled against the mountains with a bay that’s sprinkled with offshore islands, and a beach that extends for a couple of miles. We stayed at a very nice hotel about a block from the beach, and ventured to the sand every day, renting chairs at one of the private beaches, reading, and taking long walks and dips along the ocean. Across the street from our hotel was a small, very popular local pub, where you sat around outside on these smallish chairs that seemed to have been stolen from some child’s playhouse, and where for 75 cents you got a small pitcher (good for 4 glasses) of ‘fresh’ beer, something made by the locals and sold to establishments around town (the last time I had beer this cheap, I was 18 and sitting at the Timber Lodge in my home town). What I’ll remember about our hotel was the observance, as we sat on our balcony during happy hour and looked down upon the debris strewn vacant lot across the street, of a dozen or so rats scurrying about. Nha Trang is very nice, but really, this cookie cutter town could be anywhere in the world – you couldn’t stand down town and look around and know you were in Vietnam.
Next adventure is an overnight bus to the charming hamlet of Hoi An, about half way up the coast of Vietnam, where I’m apprehensive about inflicting monetary damage to our budget, since Hoi An is known for it’s shopping, especially made to order clothing.
There’s a lot to like about Dalat, Mui Ne and Nha Trang, and for days afterwards, I could not get that annoying and persistent yodeler sound out of my head.
As we balanced on the curb assessing more motorbikes than I had seen in my entire lifetime, a hunchbacked 150 year old Mother Teresa look-alike walked up, and, without hesitation, stepped off the curb into the seemingly uninhibited traffic. Acting quickly, we selfishly tucked into her 80 pound leeward shoulder and mirrored her movements across the busy thoroughfare, gently offering words of encouragement only we understood. After a few frightful moments we were successfully across, our first introduction to crossing the notorious streets of Saigon.
At first, it seemed daunting to attempt to cross the streets with hundreds of motorbikes buzzing around, yet you really have three choices: cross hesitantly with your head on a swivel constantly scanning the faces of the oncoming drivers – cross confidently, your eyes straight ahead, no hesitation, just a steady direction and constant speed – or cross with a group of locals using them as both a shield and template for when and where to move. If you maintain a constant direction and speed, the drivers will swerve to one side of the other and after a while you experience what Moses must have when he parted the Red Sea.
In a 5 hour timeframe - the time is takes to ride a bus from Phnom Penh, Cambodia to Saigon, Vietnam – you are
presented with the reality of comparing and contrasting a backward, dirty, and seedy capital versus a thriving, dynamic and clean center of commerce. Phnom Penh is no Saigon - I’m not sure it ever will be. As we walked the streets of downtown Saigon, there were industrious and motivated vendors lining every open space, with people on bikes selling everything imaginable, and enterprising locals on every corner with compressors and spare tires for those motorbikes in need. Despite the constant horn blowing and heightened anxiety, there seems to be a coordinated coexistence between everyone, as hundreds and hundreds of motorbikes constantly jockey for position within a laneless fifty foot swath of concrete.
We both loved Saigon, or as it’s called here, Ho Chi Minh City, named after the great liberator Uncle Ho. We spent three nights at the 5 star Sheraton Saigon Towers in a great location downtown, close to all the major attractions. Again, because of our Platinum status, we were upgraded to a rather large suite, given complimentary buffet breakfast, and nightly happy hour with open bar and tons of food.
Some of the highlights include, War Remembrance Museum, although we thought it was really slanted against the Americans. Coming out of this museum, I really felt like the bad guy after seeing pictures of My Lai massacre, the consequences of Agent Orange (including deformed babies in a jar), scenes of torture and effects of napalm, and many photographs illustrating American atrocities. The Presidential Palace, another historic structure, has been preserved as it stood on that fateful day in 1975 when the Republic of Vietnam was taken over by the Communist North Vietnamese. Another interesting side trip was to the Jade Emperor Pagoda, a very colorful Chinese temple filled with wonderful woodcarvings and dark and sometimes menacing figures, all surrounded by the smoky essence of incense, backlit by rays of the sun sneaking through cracks in the roof.
It was very refreshing to see Saigon as such a modern and dynamic city, throbbing with life, where capitalists flock to
invest in new enterprises, and local people are free to pursue personal ventures. As our friend JW from the wine bar in Luang Prabang commented, he enjoyed the frenetic energy of Saigon, and I quite agree, there’s something happening here and it’s clearly very good.
Our itinerary for Vietnam (30 days) includes 3 days in Saigon, a couple of days in the quiet beach community of Mui Ne, then up into the hills to Dalat for a few days, then back to the coast to Nga Trang, Moi Ann, Hue, HaLong Bay, the hillside town of Sapa and finally Hanoi before exiting into China the first of May.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement as the little rodent scurried under Marge’s bamboo chair. We were sitting at an outdoor café in downtown Phnom Penh, quietly having a drink after arriving from Siem Reap and checking into our hotel. I was calculating my next move – should I say something or just be patient and hope the little bastard moves on – when I observed his mischievous little rodent head emerge right next to Marge’s leg. Somewhat panicky, I stamped my foot, hoping to scare him off, but instead he mistook Marge’s leg for an escape route, availed himself of it, and created even more pandemonium as my wife came to the realization that a rat was scaling her leg, shot up, and scattered the rodent in the direction of the other startled patrons. Already, in a matter
of seconds, I didn’t like Phnom Penh and it hadn’t been an hour.
We had left Northern Thailand last week to spend a week or so in Cambodia, a considerable and sometimes grueling 24 hour trip. It began with a comfortable overnight train from Chiang Mai to Bangkok (15 hours), followed by a 5 hour bus ride from Bangkok to the Cambodian border. Unfortunately, at the border, the situation deteriorates quickly. First, you get stamped out of Thailand, then you walk down a dusty and hot road, littered with beggars and touts, to Cambodian immigration where they notoriously scam you out of an extra $10 for your ‘expedited’ visa. Then you have to deal with getting transport to Siem Reap – your choices being a bus (cheap and 10 hours), a taxi (expensive and 3 hours) or a pickup truck (cheap and 6
hours).
We negotiated for a $45 Toyota Camry private taxi and spent the next 3 hours driving down the worst dirt road you could ever imagine to Siem Reap, home to Angkor Wat. To say this road is a national disgrace and embarrassment is being too kind. Despite appearances of construction crews along the dirt road, it’s mostly washboard surfaced with bone jarring pot holes, so dry and dusty that most of the time you can’t see the cars in front of you. Bangkok Airlines, who, coincidentally are the only airline to fly into Siem Reap, are in no hurry to see this road improved, although just laying blacktop would cut the travel time easily in half and exponentially
improve the experience.
Finally, we arrived in Siem Reap and checked into the Le Meridien Angkor, using some of our hotel points, a very nice upscale hotel close to the ruins. We bought the $40 Angkor 3 day pass, which allows unlimited access to close to 50 sites in the surrounding areas, a considerable value considering the historic opportunities.
Dating back to the middle 12th century, Angkor Wat was built by King Suryavamanen II as a monument to the Hindu god Vishnu, and is the centerpiece and must see attraction in Siem Reap. Your approach across the moat is breathtaking, your passage marked by interlinked blocks of rock assembled like a jigsaw puzzle, your entrance through the outer gate is visually stunning - it’s scale and architecture appearing illusory at times, due to distance and relative perspective - the intricate and timeless bas-relief carvings detailing scenes from Hindu mythology including the famous ‘Churning of the Sea’ – we spent half a day here and came back a second time just to walk these enduring corridors one more time.
Next up is the great 2 mile squared walled city temple and former capital Angkor Thom, built by King Jayavaramen VII in the early 13th century. Within the four walls are many Buddhist and Hindu structures,
including Bayon and it’s 37 towers with giant stone carved faces, Baphuon, the collapsed temple-mountain in the heart of the complex, Phimeanakas, a crumbling sandstone pyramid that you can climb to the top of, the Terrace of the Elephants, a 1½ mile long wall adorned with elephants and garudas (very impressive), the Terrace of the Leper King, parts of which have only recently been excavated (1990’s), and the four imposing entrance gates, each with unique and memorable stone carvings. We spent the better part of a day here just wandering around.