[Google has decided that my password really isn't my password so I (Corina) am being forced to post as Lara. This preliminary note is necessary so you don't think Lara has let all the military juntas and other totalitarian regimes we've been exposed to lately go to her head and started talking about herself in the third person.]
One more word about our camp at Koh Ker: in case you're imagining Lara and I in some verdant jungle idyll - put that right out of your head. I overheard our neighbors in the next tent name the site "Camp Scorched Earth" and it's a perfect description. Not only is Cambodia in the dry season really dry, broad swathes of it are also burnt to a crisp. I couldn't really get a straight answer from our guide on why this was, whether they were burning the jungle to make way for farmland or doing controlled burns of the undergrowth to prevent wildfires. When he boasted later in the trip that Cambodia never had forest fires, but he didn't know why, I just looked at the "view" of smoke filled air and our still smoldering campsite and held my tongue.
Anyway, the big group got up at 4:30 to climb the pyramid again for sunrise. Lara and I had decided to skip this particular treat, but when the support staff started striking camp around us at 4:45, we had to abandon our plans to sleep in. Because the caravan of the big group was loaded down with all the camping equipment for both groups, we were able to get a head start after breakfast and toured a few more small temples in the Koh Ker complex before hitting the road for the far north of the country and a mountain top temple on the Thai border called Preah Vihear. Our guide mysteriously insisted we stop for "lunch" at 11 am to wait for the other group to catch up with us. After waiting for an hour, and several calls on his mobile, he told us that the chief of police refused to let the truck with the camping equipment drive up the mountain and the other group had decided to head back to Siem Reap. This seemed a little odd to us, but when we pressed him on why, he just said something about money, leaving us to believe that the police were looking for a bribe that the tour company was unwilling to pay. We were told that we could still go to Preah Vihear, which our guidebook called stunning, but instead of camping in our luxury safari tent, we'd be staying at a local guesthouse. Since the area was without both electricity and running water, the guesthouse would be way more adventurous than camping. Having sort of settled into our filth, we decided to push on.
It was right about here that the roads, which had been pretty smooth dirt, turned to hell and remained godawful for the next two days. Every once in a while we'd hit a pothole so deep that the jolt would turn on the windshield wipers and everyone in the car would giggle. After a couple of hours of driving by dusty rural poverty we reached the base of the mountain, and Lara and I were finally made to understand that we'd have to go the rest of the way on motorbikes, and we should pack a small bag of essentials because our suitcases weren't coming with us. So with moto drivers peering over our shoulders, begging us to choose them we hastily sorted through our unmentionables trying to figure out what we'd need for a night in a Cambodian guesthouse. I want all of you to take a moment to picture Lara's reaction to this scene.
Moving on. We chose our drivers and started heading up the mountain. At first it wasn't that bad. Then it was frakking terrifying and I couldn't imagine how our little motos were going to make it to the top without toppling us backward. For days after my shoulders ached from gripping the handle behind the seat for dear dear life. I still can't imagine a truck making that trip. We made it, obviously, and after we got off the bikes we started trudging up an ancient stone road after our guide in the full heat of the afternoon sun. It wasn't very far but it felt like a mile in the heat. It turned out that there was a tent for us after all, left by some previous expedition. Lara and I collapsed in the shade of a little pavillion begging for cold water and disappointing our guide terribly by refusing to budge from the cool cool shade to walk to the Thai market on the other side of the border. There was no way in hell we were walking 30 minutes in the frakking sun DOWNHILL (which meant we'd have to walk back uphill eventually) to look at souvenirs we could have purchased two days ago in Phuket. Instead, we read, waited for the sun to go down a bit, and felt sorry for our poor friends who because of corruption had been left behind. We missed them, they were the first westerners we'd spoken with since Burma and Lara and I were running out of things to talk about.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Safari - Day 2.1
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1 comment:
Lara here. Yep, I was pretty annoyed at the hasty packing. I have to add that this took place under the broiling noon sun, with no shade whatsoever and that I had specifically asked our guide before we left the restaurant whether we could take our bags up the mountain.
As for the motorcycle ride up the mountain, fracking scary is an apt description. First of all, the road was absurdly steep -- a 35% grade according to Lonely Planet. Second, it was not paved. There were stretches of concrete (sometimes with holes that you could see the rebar through). Those were followed by stretches of dirt, sand, sheer rock, and gravel. It was fun though.
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