Part II - Kuta, Siem Reap, Battambang

When I last wrote, Grace and I were on a terrifying (wave defying) boat journey, heading for Bali's very own Sydney-on-Sea, Kuta. 

So Kuta isn't as dreadful as we had been led to believe. It's the end of the season so the atmosphere in town certainly feels calmer. Even the myriad market sellers sound weary as they holla 'yes shopping', 'morning price', 'afternoon price', 'sunset price'. NB: of course the time of day is irrelevant. Ultimately the end price will depend on how much haggle you have in you. 

Wandering along the main strip, one can note the catalysts that help feed this town's reputation. Here's an example: the Sky Garden's mega deal. £5.60 will get you a BBQ with bottomless sides and salad. Oh and five hours of free booze 16:00 to 21:00!!! This is just one of a number of eateries/boozeries offering similar gluttony deals to pop you into an early bed and/or grave, on a shoestring. 

  

We visited a couple of coastal temples during our second Bali trip. One was called Tannah Lot*. We had read a rather damming Lonely Planet review (overpriced,  overhyped) and were about to dismiss it when we realised it was a one hour moped ride away, i.e two hours of my favourite activity. 

*turns out I do tan a lot, well a bit anyway. Since visiting cremation station in the first week I've actually bronzed up proper good like. 

Through past experience I always assumed my father's apparently dominant milky white gene wouldn't allow Julie's preferred Tannah Lot gene to get a look in on this trip. However it would appear I just needed more time. Time is great healer. Or skin cancer inducer. One of the two. 

Thought of the Day: Amazon have named their tablet 'Kindle Fire'. This is 50% misleading. Those of you who own the original old faithful Kindle know that it allows one to read an ebook in any conditions. The Kindle Fire allows a beach goer to crank up the screen brightness to eye watering and then simply stair at their own reflection through one squinted peeper for a couple of hours, at which point the battery melts. Book worms be warned, this firey imposter is nooo a Kindle. 

This blog's got everything I hear you cry; geography lessons, puns, consumer advice. And now for some history:

Of course I was aware of the Bali bombing, 202 people lost their lives. However, at the time I was only 16 and Newsround didn't provide the in-depth analysis today's me would usually seek out following such an tragic incident. 

As well as the default emotions; sadness and sympathy there's also factual intrigue and morbid curiosity. Reading into it now I find myself once again donning my job hat; a kind of investigative deerstalker. NB: I'm not actually comparing myself to Sherlock. He got mad skills. 

With Google Earth and helicopter taken images of ground zero I worked out where our hostel was (just 200m west). The enormity of what had occurred suddenly felt accentuated by its very close proximity. In my mind, I measured the scale of destruction against the hundreds of WWII-era black and white RAF aerial photographs of Blitzed London that I used to analyze. 

The destruction reminded me of Hitler's terror weapons, the V1 cruise missile and V2 rocket. Each delivering a 1,000kg warhead to the streets of London. Sure enough, the Bali bomb comprised 12 boxes containing a cocktail of high explosives totaling 1,020kg. 

Approximately 2,800 V Weapons fell on London during 1944 and 1945. And that was subsequent to the initial 1940-41 Blitz, when the Luftwaffe's bombers pounded the Capital during numerous air raids. In terms of damage sustained, these two campaigns were roughly equal in scale. Imagine living in a city subjected to >6,000 Bali bombings! It was a truly terrifying time. One largely unknown to, easily forgotten by and/or probably incomprehensible to your average 21st Century Londoner. 

Anyway, I appear to have become sidetracked. Time for some news:

Critter Watch:

Tonight on Critter Watch - GrOlly discover that their wetroom drain doubles up as an access hatch for a family of cockroaches. Over the next few nights Olly dedicates an embarrassing amount of time to chasing the speedy little rascals around, cup in hand. I told them I was offering a hug in a mug, but they weren't interested/

listening/

understanding English/

don't have ears? 

One of the above. 

Kuta's yellow sands stretch for miles. The town is on the island's southern coast, however the beach faces west. It's almost as though the coastline rotated itself 90 degrees clockwise to provide the ultimate sunset experience. Hostelling just a short walk away, we found ourselves drawn to the flat expanses of sand at sundown on four consecutive days. Strolling through acres of inch deep warm water, listening to the rhythmical crashing of Bali's world famous surf, whilst a small orange ball disappears over the featureless blue horizon, setting fire to each cloud as it descends. Beautiful. Of course I repeatedly tainted the moment by taking a photo every minute, promising myself each time 'ok just one more'. 

Bidding Bali a fond farewell, we hopped on two uneventful flights to Siem Reap (Cambodia) via Kuala Lumpur. NB: yes I will be adding Malaysia to my list of countries visited. Three hours. It still counts.

A hostel TukTuk driver picked us up from the airport and provided us our first look at this new country. My first impression of Cambodia took me back to Africa. Bright red dirt colouring everything it touches. Tumbledown shop fronts, vibrant almost fluorescent green vegetation and every now and again a truly impressive feet of human ingenuity. I am of course talking about the guys and girls who appear to be running their own one man band removals businesses. These ex circus performers succeed in stacking, attaching, balancing what looks to be their client's entire estate onto one clapped out moped. And then, for a laugh, they actually drive off!  

An Irish couple we bussed with had previously recommended 'the Pool Party Hostel' so we booked ourselves in. True to their word / name, our first evening turned into a pool party and we did some socialising with fellow back packers. It transpired that a Kiwi couple who worked at the hostel were massive Etherwood fans. On one occasion they flew all the way to Prague to see my old DJ friend! Embarrassingly I pretty much forced Woody to send a me a personalised video. Thanks mate, they were 'stoked'. 

Thought of the Day: 

Cambodia uses both US currency and, to a lesser extent, its very own Cambodian Riel. Having never visited the States I am really enjoying using American money. Essentially pretending to be a gangster and referring to them as 'bucks'. 'How many bucks is that Grace?' etc. And repeatedly counting our massive wad of one dollar bills. Completely unnecessarily of course, i know there are eight. 

I like my history but to be honest, after you've seen Angkor Wat itself (the biggest religious monument in the world) the rest of the ruins on the Angkor tour are much of a muchness. $47 each is a lot for the same visual experience over and over. Indeed the highlight of the day was the very beginning; sitting in front of the monument at 6am as the sun rose behind it's five towers; a truly magical experience. I imagine a potentially spiritual one too, had it not have been for the few hundred additional tourists all filming the same spectacle. 

After the second stop on the tour we felt we had seen it all. Apparently determined to fuel a British stereotype in our politeness, we sat in the shade and waited until a time when we felt it acceptable to return to our TukTuk driver. I was adamant that we respect his national treasure (his nation's flag icon none the less) by pretending to have an insatiable penchant for old stone walls and statues. 

Who am I kidding, I love all things stone #geologygrad08.

In a bid to inject some fun into the afternoon I treated Grace to a short seminar on the two different sedimentary rocks used by the Kmer people to construct Angkor. However, I had to admit defeat when my lecture was suddenly upstaged by two Macaque monkeys. They sashayed over, paused to listen, presumably recognised the boredom on my audience's face and then did what any respectable couple would do in that situation. Copulate. 

Typical. 

I was also a bit disappointed that the eldest of the Angkor monuments was only 900 years old. They're hardly even categorised as Ancient History, according to the UK's national curriculum. Having said that, I do enjoy a good ruin. Touching the intricately carved stone work always feels like such a tangible connection to the persons who built and used the building in question. I like my ruins like I like my women; old, grey, falling apart and sexy. 

Olly's Top Tip: if you can't afford a tour guide, surreptitiously tag along on someone else's English speaking tour. NB: doesn't work with large Chinese tour groups; they all wear matching tour caps. 

Critter Watch: In order to overcome my fears I've decided to keep my enemies closer. I'm in the market for an insect themed timepiece; a Critter Watch if you will. NB: I do hope you enjoyed my crowbarring-in of that jokette as much as I did. 

No? Fair enough. 

Anyway, on with the show:

Tonight on Critter Watch - yet again, Olly clumsily plants foot on red ant dual carriage-way during the evening rush hour. As a result, freaks out and throws bike in a bush. 

Grace strokes a cat. 

NB: Cambodian red ants are massive. They work-out. Gym bunnies, the lot of them. They wouldn't look out of place marching onto the set of Love Island, barely clad in skin-tight vests and banana hammocks, fresh from a back, sack and crack. 

In Bali people sell litre bottles of bright blue petrol on the street. In Cambodia it's the same deal however it's a dark yellowy orange colour. I'm pretty sure British Octane is dull as dish water in appearance. This is an area the U.K. could improve in. Dear* Chris Grayling MP, why not combine shocking pink fuel and transparent pipes. 

You idiot. 

All my warmest wishes.  

Oliver Brown.

*there is nothing I hold dear when it comes to our Transport Secretary. 

Thought of the Day:

Which reminds me, I am really enjoying a break from the daily water-boarding of Brexit news streamed directly into my face. I've gone done it back to Brexit by doing my own exit on Brexit. Ollexibrext?

We bussed to Battambang (Cambodia's second city) and, having done our homework, booked a full day cultural tour with the best reviewed option. Thank goodness for Trip Advisor, bringing power to the people since 2000. 

DJ's TukTuk your was a delight. Between 9am and 7pm we covered some 80km at a thrilling 20mph. We tried traditional food, met the locals and learnt about various cottage industries, obviously the most interesting being the production of rice wine. Don't be fooled by the name, this booze packs a punch; between 40 and 60% proof. The chief winer even treated us to a shot of the top shelf ops stuff, a variety marinated in three dead cobras for several days. Yum. Makes men 'strong like bull' apparently. 

DJ was full of knowledge and his personal experience of the genocide was both deeply moving and fascinating, but I won't get into that now. I've already dedicated this post to another example of death and destruction. 

At sunset, we also witnessed a remarkable site; two million bats flying out of a cave in a steady undulating stream giving new meaning to the phrase  'blind leading the blind'. 

Everywhere you go in Cambodia, even right out in the sticks, there are blue signs with images of two male politicians and 'Cambodia People's Party' written beneath. 

Of course my immediate assumption was that Cambodia is one of the more progressive Asian nations, being run by a gay couple in their mid-sixties.

Unfortunately, after conferring with our tour guide DJ, the signage appeared more sinister. The country's ruling party is both corrupt and unpopular. Like Russia, they have recently closed down the biggest independent media company, leaving a monopoly of state propaganda. Never a good sign. The numerous images of Cambodia's leading civil partnership peering down, keeping their eye on the populous, seems indicative of the way the country is actually governed. 

Every morning in Battambang there is a cacophony of cockerel chorus. Most nail the classic line. However, there's this one guy who drunkenly staggers through the first four syllables in a high pitched gurgle, only to stop prematurely. Much like British wood pigeons do when they get distracted mid-senten... 

(coo coooo coo coocoo etc)

So we've just bussed to the capital Phenomenal Penh without incident. Which is fortunate as the hostel recommended company are described on Trip Advisor as 'NEVER USE THIS BUS COMPANY!' (Jason, Melbourne).

We decided to gamble. 

This blog is actually a little delayed. As I post this, we have just completed four days in Incredible Biro and now we're bussing to the coast and the beautiful island paradise of Koh Rong. Angkor wat* could koh rong? 

*thought I'd missed a trick with that monumental pun opportunity earlier didn't ya? 

Well this has been a lot longer winded than... etc etc (see Part I). 

Thanks again for listening. 

Much love. 

xxx

P.s why not click subscribe. 

I've always wanted to say that. 

Part I - Indoneasier

Flew out of Heathrow at 21:30 on Monday. Arrived at our final destination, a little Balinese hippy town called Ubud, mid-afternoon on Wednesday. Knackered. 

The first thing you realise is that Bali's road network is apparently lawless, a borderline chaos. I think they drive on the left here... 

Our taxi driver had even stated 'I drives by my own rules'. How exciting. 

For the first four days we rented a double room with an en-suite and access to a pool for £6.80 a night. SE Asia really is the region that makes long term backpacking on a shoestring possible. Although, en-suite on our budget does not mean sweet suite. It means all in one, as in you can shower whilst sitting on the loo which I actually love, so the joke's on them. 

In Ubud we visited the Monkey Forest, a place where a guaranteed food supply keeps some 700 monkeys in a relatively small section of forest for all us tourists to come and stare at. And stare we did, they are amazing to watch, so me like. 

Small and hairy. 

I saw some monkeys jumping up on tourists (Grace included) to either groom their head hair or try and steal whatever was in their hands. Most victims screamed, panic laughed and generally gave the impression it was an unpleasant experience. However, and I'm embarrassed to say, I actually went out of my way to try and be set upon. I targeted and pursued the naughty juveniles, however to no avail. Playing hard to get has never been my forte. 

We went on a bike tour which actually meant a long drive up to a cafe in the highlands with a stunning view of Mount B... ok to be honest I can't remember the name. It's the less recently frisky of Bali's volcanoes aAfterwItdse then cycled down hill for threw hours with a few stops. One of which was a coffee plantation where we sampled the goods, including Cat poo coffee - the same overpriced stuff currently being consumed by London's elite / idiots. They take a cat like mammal species (again, cant remember the name) which can't digest coffee beans so poos them out. They are then collected, cleaned and roasted in the normal way. 

Spoiler Alert: It tastes like regular coffee, just shitter. 

My first ever go on a moped was not in ideal conditions. A rainstorm of biblical magnitude had forced our friend Robyn to abort her ride due to fear of falling off. Fair enough in Bali where the road is awash with super confident native riders screaming past you. Add to that the fact that on this particular day the road was also literally awash. 

Bali is a world away from the UK. As an aspiring moped rider / renter living in the latter, you would need to hold the necessary driving license. In Bali, all you need is access to 50,000RP (about £2.80), no questions asked. 

Reluctantly I handed the extortionate fee to our hostel owner who pointed at a pile of helmets in the corner and motioned towards a row of five vehicles parked outside. One of his staff was busy doing pre-flight checks on the fleet, which was reassuring, however, the small Hindu offering balanced on our ped's seat... not so much. Did tourists require divine assistance? Hmm. 

Unlike the rest of Indonesia Bali is 95% Hindu. Everyday each household and business places a number of small offerings (tiny dried banana leaf baskets containing rice morsels, petals, even cigarettes) outside each room and the front door. And yes on one occasion I did accidentally boot one into the road. Very embarrassing but completely unavoidable here. 

Brimming with confidence, with Grace on the back, I took to pedding like a duck to watery Ubud. My years cycling central London's rush hour stood me in good stead. Although, having said that, I had never given Grace a backy to work back home. 

NB: my folks will be glad to hear that having my love ride shotgun meant I drove very cautiously indeed. 

We eventually broke out of the urban gridlock and hit the open road. Rice paddies, villages, temples, banana trees flying by. 60mph on two wheels is pretty exciting I have to say (Mum&Dad see NB above). 

Thought of the day: 

The Balinese use of Bamboo as scaffolding pleases me. Natures perfect alternative.  

We visited the Yoga Barn in Ubud, which is apparently the largest yoga studio in SE Asia. The town put on the map, in part, by the book/film Eat Pray Love. The vegan buffet was the most colourful bowl of food I had ever demolished. 

Afterwards we did the Intro to Yoga session which was good, bit painful. A Chinese girl in short shorts frequently thrusting her bum quite sexually directly into Grace's face made me laugh. Our teacher talked a lot about energy, love, the sun, the moon, etc so obviously I fell in love with her immediately; an embarrassing inevitability. 

Days later I reckon Grace fell in love with a talented guitar guy who sang us a set of classics at a bar, so we're even. I certainly fell in love with him so I bloody hope she did. 

Walking back through Ubud after a night on the tiles we came across an impassable mob in the street. Turns out the local temple was putting on a show in the street. I say show it was a Hindu Festival - not sure which - but it was performed by hundreds of children.

For 45mins we watched the most intricate choreography, amazing costumes and singing / chanting / vocal percussion. The latter was particularly impressive. I counted some unusual time signatures and was spellbound by the coordination, the spot on timing and musicianship of such a large number of kids. I tried to explain my astonishment to a fellow British couple, however as soon as Grace chipped in with 'Olly plays the drums you see' I felt like a twit and summed up. 

Critter Watch:

Tonight on Critter Watch - Olly, Grace, Robyn and Dave witness a small snake chasing flies in a rice paddy. 

Less on that later. 

We left Ubud and got the 90min boat to Gili Trawangan, one of three tiny (Gili) islands just off Lombok. This island paradise is all about snorkeling and SCUBA so we gave both a go. 

As is tradition, of course I got enormously sunburnt on Day 1. This is the closest to the equator my skin has ever journeyed so it was a real doozy. 

NB: P-20 Once A Day spray does nooo do what is says on the tin. 

SCUBA was both amazing and a touch scary. You really get a sense that you're taking your life in your hands. If you panic at that depth and forget your training, you could die. My experience slightly marred by a leaky mask but aside from that it was incredawemazesome.

Turns out we were very fortunate indeed. Aside from three turtles which I thought would be the highlight, an enormous beast paid Grace, our Norwegian instructor and me a visit. Kris had just made the hand sign indicating he wanted us to communicate our air supply to him, however when I looked back up to sign 50bar (the quantity you should terminate your dive at) he was already swimming away, eyes wide, motioning for us to follow, no species specific hand sign given...

During our training he had shown us a book of fish and mammal we might see, and the signal for each. He didn't even bother demonstrating what hand gesture meant Manta Ray. 

So that was quite a thrill. Apparently they can grow up to 7m (wing span). Kris estimated ours to be a mere 3-4m, so as far as I was concerned, absolutely enormous then. Incredibly, it was only the second time he had witnessed one in the wild and ridiculously coincidentally we were diving with Manta Dive School at a dive site called Manta Point. You couldn't write this stuff. 

Although I have, see above. 

I'm a big fan of the Gili islands. The natives are so hospitable, always smiling, always saying 'lovely jubbly' or 'core blimey' when they learn that you're from England i.e the East End of London. Also, those that know me well can imagine I get pretty excited by the local Indonesian menus. Not the food derrr, the prices. Traditional main course in a backstreet Warung = £1!

'Err, in which case I'll take two then'

(one for me and one for Grace). 

NB: I do actually love the food. 

One point for improvement. They fling a fried egg on top of every meal they cook. Not a big problem, I can easily fling it off again. However, if there's a chronic egg surplus in Indonesia, which there clearly is, just cull the chicken population and fling one of them on my plate instead. Jeez. 

The islands are unique. No motorised vehicles are allowed so it's all bicycles or horse and cart. No dogs allowed, only cats (millions of them). There are also no police. Magic mushrooms are advertised in plain site and the Gilis have become quite famous in this regard. 

Thought of the day:

Our hostel cat recently had kittens and we're obsessed with them. I've named them One to Five. 

We walked to the sunset strip of beach bars and obviously saw the most incredible sun set over Bali's distant mountains. There was a small wisp of gas emanating from Mt Agung's crater, the more recently frisky of Bali's volcanoes and an archetypal Stratovolcano (#geologygrad08). I would be lying if I said there wasn't a part of me that secretly wished it erupted at that moment, right in front of our eyes. Of course that would mean inevitable death and destruction. Like I said, a part. 

We paid for a snorkel trip on a glass bottomed boat with 20+ other tourists. Three different dive sites and lunch. The first and third were amazing, as there was a plethora of beautiful tropical fish at each, think Finding Nemo. So incredibly close as well, they were literally eating (bread) out of my hand. 

However, again my mask was letting in water. Turns out designer stubble hinders a true seal. Dam my sexy face. 

At the second site, Grace and I were last off the boat due to a classic faff-fest. This proved fortuitous. Our skiff had drifted off the coral shelf and onto deeper darker water. We jumped off and were instantly treated to our own private Turtle peep show, gracefully pulling itself through the water. Perfectly framed and contrasted against the homogenous blue backdrop. Magnificent. 

Thought of the day:

Within the first two weeks of our trip: 

- We both left our £35 a piece super filter water bottles in a bar, only to recover them hours later. 

- Grace also left hers in a chemist, again recovered).

- I lost our hostel room key and had to pay for a replacement only to be handed the original later, by the cleaner. 

- At the next hostel I left our room key in our door for a whole day.

- Grace's card was gobbled up by a ravenous ATM. Yum. 

So yes this all bodes well. I was hoping on only loosing my dignity whilst away but it may not be that easy a ride.  

After four days on Gili T, we jumped ship. Jumped on a ship and headed for Gili Air, T's little sibling. Indonesian boats are very narrow, overcrowded and the sea was very choppy that day. It was one of the scarier rides of my life. There was a lot of screaming and a lot of water crashing over the bows and into the packed cabin. I was reminded of a nautical phrase 'the sea is a cruel mistress'. 

NB: Grace is a cool mistress. 

The driver even cut the engine at one point to avoid capsizing. The couple next to me donned life jackets, a bit alarmist in my opinion. It also served to draw everyone's attention to a titanic-esque scenario, there definitely weren't enough life jackets onboard. 

I began singing Celine Dion's most tragic anthem (in my head). 

On Gili Air we really got into beach hol mode. More snorkeling (turtles almost becoming run of the mill now - ridiculous), eating out three times a day (good food is so cheap!!!), hours of reading under the parasol... etc. So this is "traveling" is it? Good. Sign me up for several more months. 

Critter Watch: 

Tonight on critter watch - Olly treads in red ant colony and gets bit up, Grace and Olly warm to a Gecko living in their cupboard. About the length of a Shatterproof ruler which is big for a Gecko but they are actually quite cute.

Headline - Olly sees a massive spider and s***s himself. On Booking.com Gecko Backpackers' outdoor thatched bedroom on stilts looked wild, in a good way. In reality it was wild, in a bad way. A three night fearfest. On the first evening we returned to find this monster spider on our bedroom wall. Poor thing only had five legs, likely a veteran of conflicts past with previous guests. Like any proud war veteran, i imagine it craved an honorable and respectable death so with that in mind I readied one of my more sturdy flip flops.

Seriously though I do feel bad about that one, I like animals, however I'm also a borderline arachnophobe. There's no way I could have got into bed with that monster sharing our room. It had claws coming out of its face for goodness sake! It made one of our big brown British house spiders look like a gorgeous angelic little infant mite. It didn't work anyway, that night Karma took the form of substantial sleep deprivation. 

Booking.com is brilliant. Reverse Karma took the form of a posh little bungalow room, 60% off for two nights! It had air con, a real treat. Up till then it had been all fan-tastic (i.e not fantastic). And most crucially, this upgrade was relatively spider-proof, it was indoors. 

At this very moment* we are on the fast boat back to Bali. The cruel mistress is up to her usual tricks again...

and the sea is again very choppy.

*update: I thought I was going to post this last Thursday. Its now days later and said boat trip is a distant memory. 

So we are on our merry way to Kuta, which by all accounts is the Magaluf of Bali. SOS...

As we want to stay relatively close to the airport for Wednesday's 6am flight to Cambodia, we have decided to endure Indonesia's answer to Falaraki, Zante, etc. It's all 'Aussies on tour' apparently. Yikes. I've already irritated Grace to the point of mention by repeatedly shouting (in a deadly accurate Aussie accent) 'Kuta mate, we're goin fackin Kuta mate'.

In summary, Indonesia is wicked. The plan was to (indon)ease ourselves into the trip with lots of beach time and that's what we've done. We had heard that it is one of the (indon)easier countries to backpack in and I agree. Certainly easier than (In)(Lon)(don)(esia). 

Well this has been a lot longer winded than I anticipated. I planned to simply list some key bullet points and it's turned into a ruddy geography essay of (gonna blow my own trumpet here) GCSE quality. So apologies and thanks for sticking with it.

If you bailed early then I don't blame you but consider our friendship terminated. You won't read this anyway. Ha. 

Actually can someone please pass on the termination comment to any premature bailers. Thank you and good day.

I was about to say I miss you all but to be honest I don't. Not yet. Still feels like a holiday. Tune in for Part II if you want to be missed. 

xxx

P.s please give it up for Julie Brown. It's her birthday tomorrow. Top gal. She's made me what I am today, quite literally.