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.
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