Temples of Angkor

A very powerful and artistic people built the temples of Angkor.


The most famous of the two dozen or so temple complexes, Angkor Wat, is truly breathtaking-- though no more so than the smaller, gem-like temples in this sizeable area. The beauty is hard to describe.

We enjoyed visits over two days. At times it felt like we had the place to ourselves.

We hired a tuc-tuc driver to take us from the resort to the temples, approximately 15 minutes. A 3-day pass costs $40. There are basic restaurants and plenty of folks, some very young, eager to sell you bottled water and tee-shirts.





Late afternoon picnic, Angkor Wat







Chan Say Tavoda


This was very serene and largely desserted near the end of the day. The light was filtered through the leaves of the banyon trees.








Nature takes over


Abandoned temples have given way to nature, some more than others. It's reassuring to know that if we are all wiped out one day, nature will find a way to go on without our careful stewardship of the planet and its priceless, irreplaceable resources.








Watch out for elephants



A convincing salesgirl



Our tuc-tuc driver for two days, Jom Nam
Jom Nam was very friendly and reliable. His English was pretty good, however he didn't offer much in way of guideance to Angkor-- admittedly not his proper job, though some drivers are better than others.

He is married with two young daughters. His sister-in-law is also very good looking, and she runs a restaurant near Angkor Tom, the temple we visited after Angkor Wat. We had a very good Tom Yum soup with fish there.

We gave Jom Nam about $30 or $40 over two days. The average Cambodian salary is $20 a month. While I doubt Jom Nam is guaranteed $20/day 5, 6, or 7 days a week, I suspect he's doing well by locals standards. However, it also depends on whether he owns or rents his tuc-tuc. If he leases it (as is the way with Rikshaw pullers in Indai), he has to pay the greedy capitalist owner, but how much that would be, I don't know.





A detail of Angkor Tom



Siem Reap, Cambodia


Our tour broke up on the tenth day. It was difficult to say goodbye to our travel mates, with whom we’d formed a close bond over the previous week and a half. The night before, we’d all shared an exceptional meal together, and ended up visiting an “expat” bar for a couple of drinks. It had a US Western theme and a live band, probably from the Philipines, provided background to a young crowd eager to perform some live karaoke. I vaguely recognized most of the songs as contemporary American hits. A couple of good singers, and some interesting graphics on the wall. Other than that it was sort of boring. Did I mention the graphics? That's my kind of dude ranch.

Our flight to Siem Reap, Cambodia (the city nearest the ruins of Angkor) was on Vietnam Airlines. It was fine, with plenty of room. The flight from Hanoi was about $200 each.

After the last few days of gray drizzle in Vietnam, it was wonderful to step from the plane into the warm, hazy, humid heat of Cambodia. I felt myself start to dry immediately.

Siem Reap’s airport is really beautiful, airy, and even well manicured outside. Actually, all the airports we saw—Narita, Japan; Saigon/Ho Chi Minh and Hanoi in Vietnam, and now Cambodia—were beautiful, clean, and well-maintained, with helpful and accommodating staff. It was much more pleasant than our experiences anywhere in Europe or in the U.S.

We did not have a visa for Cambodia but they are easily obtained at the airport. They are $25 each. It took about 15 minutes to get the visa, clear immigration, and pick up our bags. (It costs a further $30 or $40 to leave Cambodia, a mandatory “departure tax.”) A driver met us and took us to our resort, the Borann, about a 20 minute drive.

Our first reaction was that Cambodia is poorer than Vietnam. Later, we realized that Siem Reap (with its pretty airport) caters to quick visiting tourists like us, who drop in, spend money, and then leave. I can’t really claim to have visited Cambodia as a result. I suspect its capital, Phnom Pen, is crowded and poverty stricken, probably much more so than Hanoi and Saigon, and the smaller towns throughout this tropical, war-ravaged land must be wanting. However, Siem Reap is not short of luxury hotels for those tourists eager to explore the ruins at Angkor.

Our resort was French owned, a couple of steps above backpacker hotels and quite a few steps below more luxurious lodgings. The manager was a local man who’d lost a leg to a land mine—the country is still well-mined. It offered a series of two-story cabins, all placed around a lush garden and a small, refreshing pool. We had a ground floor cabin. The room was simple and attractive, with a fan and Cambodian artwork on the walls. The bathroom had a cool tile floor a free-standing shower with no enclosure and also a 4-foot high clay pot filled with cool water—a Thai bath. Dip in a basin and dump over your head. It was fun, once.

It was a pleasant resort and I’d recommend it. It’s about a mile from Siem Reap’s touristy old town; a tuc-tuc will drive you down for $2 in a couple of minutes. (The average Cambodian salary is $20 a month. Some lucky Siem Reap denizens can make that in a day.) With taxes, the resort was about $50 per night. After a busy 10 days in VN, we were looking forward to staying in once space for a while, so we spent four nights there. It was pleasant to laze by the pool with an iced coffee or beer, watching the odd gecko dart around. They sprayed for mosquitoes in the late afternoon, so they weren’t really a problem. We did however take anti-malarial pills as a precaution.

We stopped at an ATM en route to town, and were surprised that it dispensed US dollars. Imagine going to an ATM in the US and getting yen, or Euros. As in VN, everyone in Cambodia takes dollars and will give you change in either dollars or Cambodian money.

Siem Reap was thriving and exciting. The old quarter is charming, filled with businesses that cater to us tourists. There’s no shortage of restaurants and shops, massage parlors ($5/hr) and tuc-tuc drivers eager to speed you on your way home, with the possibility of a full day hire the next day to whisk you around the ruins of Angkor, of course.

Winter is a good time to visit, before the rains and truly hot season, so it was busy with folks of all ages and races dispensing dollars to the grateful. In the evening a couple of streets are closed off and become pedestrian districts. I love sitting over a beer and watching people walk by.

We dined well. In general I preferred the food of VN. The food in Cambodia leans more to Thai and Indian. Again, it was good, but I felt the flavors were less well defined than the clean flavors we’d enjoyed in VN. The beer was good, and overall dining was inexpensive, as in VN.





Beer goggles? No, beer ears.

Halong Bay






Halong Bay is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

We greatly enjoyed its unique beauty.


Our group spent half a day exploring the bay on our own boat.


Unfortunately, the day was cool and overcast, but that could not dull the magnificent scenery.


We moored and explored several islands. In one we climbed high, only to descend into a spectacular cave.

We were given lunch, dinner and breakfast on the boat. Like everything else we ate in SE Asia, the food was great. Our room was fairly basic, but unlike some hotels, had a heater.

Two travelmates, Gavin and Tom, woke early and dove into the bay and swam around our boat.









After dinner that evening I spoke with our tour leader Hue about contemporary life in Vietnam, which proved most interesting; I wrote a little about this in a previous entry. She spoke about a natural tendency to prudence and sexual ignorance among the Vietnamese, which may or may not lead towards the high birth rate they’re currently experiencing. She also added that yes, they pay taxes; yes, they can vote for representatives to the national government (who then go on to pick a president); they don’t trust banks: her mother recently purchased a nice Japanese sedan with cash; they do not receive national healthcare, which I thought odd for a communist country. They’re also very superstitious. Hue herself was just finishing a year of very bad luck, and had high hopes for the new lunar new year, Tet, which was fast approaching. (The locals pronounce it as dut.) It is now the year of the rat. There was no shortage of rat- and mouse-themed New Year decorations available for purchase. And plants and beautiful flowers, which are very auspicious.

Hanoi







Taking a cyclo tour of Hanoi....







Hue’s train station was fairly calm. Our group leader got us our tickets and we were broken into groups of 4, and assigned our sleeping cabins. We shared with Alan and Cynthia. It was a small cabin with two berths on either side and a small table in the middle. It was very basic, quite a distance from the Orient Express-like fantasy I’d conjured in my mind. Alan said it was like stepping back in time a hundred years. We settled in and he told us some interesting tales of traveling across Australia, by train, as a jackeroo in the ‘70’s.

Fortunately, we’d packed a picnic of pizzas, chocolate, fruit, beer, as the food cart that visited had some unappetizing bits of grilled meat on it.

We settled in for a very nice evening with our cabin mates. Our younger travel-mates were having some laughs too, drinking and playing cards in their cabins next door. At one point, twenty-something Adrian walked by to say hello, saw our pile and of empty beer cans and said, “Bloody ‘ell, the oldies are doin’ orlright,” surprised by our beery abilities, apparently. Foolish young whippersnapper.

We settled in early, probably drifting off around 9:30. Slept mostly through the night. Woke sluggishly as we pulled into Hanoi at 5:00 AM, the area around the station already bustling. Our bags were piled on a cart and we walked the two blocks to our hotel, where we were able to rest for a couple of hours.
Unfortunately I did not catch the pricing of the overnight train, it being included in the price of our tour, but if I had to guess, I might say about $40 per person.

At 7 AM we were taken to KOTO for breakfast. This non-profit group (whose name stands for Know One Teach One) trains impoverished children to speak English and preps them for a life in the growing restaurant and hotel industries. It was pretty wonderful, and the young staff were eager, smiling, and efficient. Though a traditional western breakfast was on offer, I asked for and got a more local bowl of Pho, the national dish, a soup with noodles and small bits of meat.

The group broke up after breakfast. We went to see Ho Chi Minh lie in state in his mausoleum, a clunky, Stalinist-style grey block. Despite his wishes to be cremated, his ashes spread around a unified Vietnam, others thought their needs would be better served by having his corpse on view. He looked peaceful enough, in simple black pajamas, inside a clear coffin, surround by armed soldiers of the people’s revolutionary army. Very hushed, and definitely no pictures. All cameras had been handed over prior to the visit.

Within the grounds of the mausoleum is Ho’s very simple, spare, two-roomed house, on stilts, consisting of a bedroom and a study, both resting atop an open dining area. It was quite beautiful, made of wood, with shutters and blinds to raise or lower according to the light and weather. He had some books in many languages (he was a polyglot), a radio, and a phone. We also saw his Peugeot.

After looking at the lotus-like, tiny One Pillar Pagoda, we walked to the Temple of Literature, a peaceful complex of temples within Hanoi’s hustle, dating from the 11th century. Here the works of academics is recorded on artfully carved stone stelae.












Lunch was a gyro (or doner kebab, depending on your provenance), though the Vietnamese use pork instead of lamb. At 3:00 pm we gathered for a one-hour cyclo tour of the old city. Frankly, I’m not enamored of cyclos, which are slower than walking. Though it is neat to be in the midst of such traffic madness. At around 4 we again split up. Susan and finally did a bit of shopping, getting ourselves silk pajamas and elaborately embroidered silk robes. We stopped for a couple of beers, then had a pricy-by-local-standards but damn fine French dinner: foie gras, charcouterie, duck… and a glass or two of grape juice, mais oui.


At nine we met up with the group to watch one of Hanoi’s famous “water puppet” theatre shows, a popular stop on the tourist circuit. This dates back a couple of centuries. The puppets, which are in a pool of water, are operated from behind a curtain. It was technologically very good, and I liked the traditional music which was performed by a real band.

Hue, Day 2


I nudged Susan awake at 6 AM with the promise of a cafĂ© suah—dark roast coffee slowly dripped onto a glass containing condensed milk—and we enjoyed a misty, pre-dawn walk to Hue’s main market, across the river from our hotel. We passed numerous artfully painted boats, one of which we’d rent for our own jaunt down the river later, and saw our first jogger, an American who wished us a good morning. We crossed the wide river about a half mile away and entered the market, which was just waking up. We walked through the fish and meat sections and then wandered around other stalls. Many people were perched on the ubiquitous tiny stools, enjoying their morning bowl of Pho. I had a sandwich from a woman who sliced ground meat that was pressed around a large piece of bamboo, which had been grilled. She sliced a biscotti-sized piece off and placed it in a baguette with chili oil, which soon warmed me up.

What followed was an exciting day of boats and motor scooters and scenery.

The group rented a colorful pontoon boat which took us down the Perfume River. It stopped first at the Thien Mu Pagoda, a beautiful temple that sits a hundred feet above the river, about 2 miles from Hue. It affords beautiful views of the river valley, and has a particularly lovely 7-story tower. The monk who famously immolated himself in 1963 to protest South Vietnam’s political policies came from this temple.






Lining the valley south from the city is a series of Royal Tombs. Many of the emperors, we were told, enjoyed living there for years before their deaths. (Actually, to avoid desecration, the emperors were buried by a team of volunteers secretly within the grounds. The volunteers were then killed, knowingly, to protect the secret. Emperors’ bodies are still hidden.)

We visited the tomb of Emperor Tu Duc. The large, walled compound was very serene, surrounded by a moat, lovingly landscaped, and filled with various temples. Not a bad place to spend eternity.

Next, we all boarded the backs of scooters for a drive through central Vietnam’s lush countryside. We stopped first on the high overlook of the Perfume River, a former US Army station which afforded splendid views. We then drove, over rough conditions, hanging on for dear life, to a monastery for a vegetarian lunch. We were forced to nap for 15 minutes after, lying down next to each other on straw mats. This was decidedly odd, as we’d been segregated by sex, and the proximity was a bit closer than we were used to.





It was raining, heavily at times, and our drivers provided us with thick plastic ponchos. We stopped at various places: a souvenir stall, to see incense (jos) sticks being rolled; at an ornate covered bridge, complete with its own English-speaking fortune teller, a woman who had been married to a US officer during the war; and at a large coliseum-like arena, where emperors delighted in watching elephants fight tigers to the death. (The elephants, the symbol of royalty, always won. This was guaranteed by particularly horrible means.) We drove through quiet towns that few tourists would frequent, and across wide fields of rice on narrow, muddy paths.

Everywhere smiles and industrious people selling, selling, selling.

Hue, Day 1

Second day of rain. Dry season? Thankfully we brought along waterproof hiking boots, which we didn’t expect to wear before Cambodia.

The drive from Hoi An to Hue (not to be confused with our guide’s name), the 19th century capital of imperial Vietnam, was through some splendid mountainous country. We stopped on the coast at a resort for a forgettable lunch. It was considered one of the most scenic beaches in the country. Sadly it was dull and overcast but the waves pounding the shore were terrific.

We arrived in Hue after 2 hours on the road. Separated by the Perfume River, the north side is dominated by the Imperial City, whose emperors rest in tombs south of the river. Built by the Emperor Gia Long in the early 19th century, the massive fortress, based on China’s Forbidden City, is staggeringly beautiful. It consists of three palaces—the Civic, the Imperial (also military), and the private, Emperor-only Purple Palace. This was home to his wives and concubines and guarded by eunuchs; for any other male to enter was a death sentence.












The Imperial City was also the site of fighting during the Vietnam War. It was overrun by North Vietnamese during 1967’s surprise Tet Offensive, and occupied for about two weeks. Much of the original architecture was destroyed by American and South VN artillery in recapturing it. I saw more than a few bullet holes in the walls by the North Gate entrance. (Americans recaptured this and other cities briefly occupied during this series of surprise attacks, but the success of the bold forays fueled speculation that the war was not going well. It is seen as the beginning of the end.)

The Imperial City is beautiful, meticulous, and serene. It is the apogee of Vietnamese culture. It rests quietly a hundred landscaped acres. Gia Long’s Nguyen Dynasty was VN’s last. In 1945 the final emperor, largely a French puppet (marionette?), ceded power to Ho Chi Minh’s communists and moved himself (and much of his country’s wealth) to France (where descendants still live as very successful business people, according to our guide Hue). But the Nguyen’s must have been powerful indeed to create such a grand and special place.














Later, Susan and I next walked from our little hotel to the large 4-star one nearby, where we both had massages, which felt very good. The hotel spa was first rate, and the two masseuses clambered all over us. They were $12 each for an entire hour.

We then walked next door to a large arts center which specializes in embroidery. Hue is famous for exquisite paintings in thread—wonderful natural scenes of flowers, bamboo, animals—and some pretty awful Thomas Kincaid-inspired ones too. The compound itself was beautiful, with ponds, bamboo and small bridges, and women in native dress rushing to serve us less-well-dressed some green tea. We saw some women at work, their fingers dancing on half-finished canvases. Somehow, their stitches seemed to perfectly capture light and movement—a reflection from a golden carp, for instance, still stays with me. We definitely felt we’d return the next day to buy a small one, a limb festooned with cherry blossoms, but ran out of time. Buy it when you find it, as Susan says.

That evening we dined at “The Royal Court,” a restaurant where you not only dress up in elaborate, colorful Mandarin robes, but given your own banquet room, where you are serenaded with indigenous music and singing. It was hokey but fun. The food was fine, but very artfully arranged and garnished—a little over-the-top, but great to look at. The music was wonderful, and we purchased the proffered CD. Ten courses at dinner, with two beers each and the show, was about $10.

Hoi An



Hoi An school children








The flight to Da Nang from Saigon was about an hour, on a very nice, clean Vietnamese Airlines flight. A bus met us there and drove to Hoi An, a city of 1.5 million, about an hour away. Situated on the Thu Bon River, it is home to a centuries-old trading tradition between the Vietnamese, Chinese and Japanese. It's compact and visitors can see a lot in a day, though we saw plenty in the two alloted us. It has the feel of a sleepy, charming beach town, and it is well known for its shopping, particularly its tailoring and shoe-making. I had 3 cotton shirts made. It took them 24 hours, and they fit perfectly.




The first day was gloriously sunny and hot, so we opted to skip the beach—we could go there tomorrow, if we wished—and delved instead into the old market.





With its smaller population, the tourists here are more noticeable than in Saigon, and it was certainly a popular destination. The old streets are lined with French colonial buildings, with colorful stucco, mildewed facades and louvered shutters on the windows. There are balconies with plants spilling over the side. There are also elaborate Chinese temples cum meeting halls to explore. We enjoyed our walk and poke around the market. We stopped for some “fresh beer” (bier hoi), a young, yeasty, refreshing draft that cost about $.25 a glass. Later, we had a pricy but delicious dinner at uber-designey Mango with Alan and Cynthia, and enjoyed a walk back to our hotel along the river. The tide was in, and the street was wet as the river topped the bank in a couple of places. It was just as lovely in the dark as in the light.

I woke early our second day in Hoi An. I walked to the central market, stopping en route to photograph a few buildings. It was grey and drizzling; there would be no beach visit. At 6 am the riverfront was bustling with activity and only 1 or 2 tourists to observe the real labor and commerce taking place in this ocean of plastic raincoat-wearing conical hats. People were smoking and you could smell the charcoal braziers that were firing up to make breakfast as people haggled over the first catch of the day. It was mostly women. Many sat on straw or plastic mats and deftly scaled and filleted fish from tiny to large with nothing more than ordinary scissors. Tubs of live shrimp, crab, and fish filled the ground. Some women pounded fish or shrimp into paste, then added herbs and formed this into little balls for frying or soup. It was packed tight and I had to choose my footing carefully. A few yards away, under the warehouse roof, other vendors were readying their vegetables and meat stalls, and restaurant stalls were heating large pots of broth for the mornings’ soup. My own breakfast came from a stall with a line so long it told me its offering must be good, and it was: a baguette sandwich of sliced pork, mystery pate, and vegetables that cost less than half a dollar.







At 8:30 am the group met to walk back to town to meet a hired
guide who would take us around. We first walked through a well-preserved merchant house from the 19th century, with its beautiful details, courtyards, and family shrines to favored gods. This private home is still lived in by the 7th generation.





From there we walked through the drizzle to the small but intricate Japanese Covered Bridge, built over a small estuary to join the Japanese and Chinese communities. Dating from the late 16th century, the bridge is Hoi An’s oldest surviving structure. This elaborate bridge has a small temple built onto one side at is guarded by statues of monkeys at one end, dogs at the other—commemorating, we think, the 5 years between the years of the monkey and dog when the bridge was constructed.


The Fujian Chinese Congregation assembly hall was magnificent, with elaborate carvings, ceramics, colorful papier mache statues of gods, and food offerings to the gods—including a whole grilled pig. Incense hung heavily in the air as we gawked at the often overwhelming display of color and texture near the shrine to the sea goddess, to whom merchants would pray to protect their lives and their goods. And their money. They also have a money god, to whom they pray, who sat at the sea goddess’ side. At least they’re upfront about it.

Hard to believe it was not yet noon! We next hired a boat which took us slowly down the river to two islands devoted to crafts. One made pottery, the other was devoted to mother-of-pearl inlay. The ceramics were basic tourist bric-a-brac; they also made roofing tiles. (The richer you are, the closer you can stack them on your roof to create a buffer between you and the oppressive heat.) We watched an old potter throw some basic pieces on a wheel kicked by a helper, who also wedged (kneaded) clay to remove the air pockets and make it supple for the potter—hard work! I thought how my electric wheel in our basement, which is largely unused, could change their lives considerably. Most of the pieces are unglazed and wood-fired; we looked deep into some well-used but empty kilns. The clay is collected from the region, transported in boats, and emptied by hand onto large, central piles. It appeared to be a tough existence for the locals. I tried my hand at one pottery stall and threw a small cup. The wonderful old woman potter there with the engaging smile is pictured with me at the top of this blog as well.



Lunch was fantastic, a small restaurant suggested by Hue, our guide: Ba Le Well. We gorged on spring rolls, grilled pork, and banh xeo (stuffed rice crepes)—all of which are wrapped in bibb lettuce leaves and dipped into an array of sauces. It was delicious and truly memorable. And probably $2.





After lunch, Susan and I returned to Yaly, to try on my shirts. I was assisted in this by the lovely Thuy. To have one’s shirts buttoned for you by a small, attractive Asian woman in a dressing room was not unappealing. They fit perfectly but more importantly I looked GOOD! A little more shopping—two calligraphy pieces—and a visit to another Chinese Meeting House, and then it was back to the hotel for a nap, which somehow eluded me.





At 6 pm we were given a lesson in Vietnamese cooking by the handsome chef Bup (“Not Bob, like Dylan!”). The six of us who participated joined in making whole fish grilled in banana leaves, spring rolls, and squid salad. Bup singled me out for my knife skills. You try dicing a shallot with a cleaver. It ain’t easy.



I believe I slept fairly well that night....