Bat exodus

Mon 29 Feb 2016 - Rural Cambodia and the Bat Cave

Our last full day in Battamabang today so after breakfast we rented a tuk tuk and asked the young driver, Hang, to take us into the countryside ‘where the tourists don’t go’. After convincing him that we’d already made rice paper and seen the fish paste factory we set off for the paddy fields that surround Battambang.

On the way out of the city we saw a beautiful pagoda and asked our driver to stop. In his disjointed English he explained that it was not a pagoda, apparently they are in monasteries, but a public place of worship built recently and still being extended. It was unlike any of the monasteries we’d seen and provided a place for anyone in the community to share any idea for the welfare of the community. Very beautifully decorated and surrounded by pretty gardens filled with lots of flowering plants. Hang explained that many of its features (buddha statues, seats, trees etc) had been donated by wealthy individuals. All in all a lovely building with a good feel to it.

Still incredulous that we just wanted to go into the countryside Hang took us down a looong dusty track stopping periodically to highlight some feature or answer one of the many questions we had for him. The paddy fields were bone dry and very brown from a failure of the second harvest, normally in January, and it appears that last year’s rains were unusually poor and it hadn’t rained since last August. The fires, which we’d assumed were strategically lit for some form of land nutrition, were wild fires caused by the sun or careless smokers. With no water to extinguish them and, in some cases, the remote owner not even knowing his field was on fire they just had to burn themselves out.

Just out of town we saw a large field that had been filled in (the paddy fields are usually lower than the road and enclosed by an earth bank so they can be flooded) and subdivided into building plots for sale. Plus ca choice, plus c'est la meme chose.

At the end of the long dusty road we turned into a farmyard and Hang proudly introduced us to his uncle and family. We were admiring the rather nice new house he’d built on his land but it seems they preferred to spend the day in the, rather grotty looking, wooden shack that had been the original house. With lots of smiles and our best ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ in our limited Khmer (the Cambodian language) we left, drove a little further down the track to meet another uncle.

This family had a large new stilt house and were all sitting underneath out of the sun. Hang showed us around the back to see an enormous bull his uncle owns. We then saw a strange barn with many bamboo slatted shelves and asked what it was for. Hang introduced us to his young cousin who claimed to speak a little English but was actually very proficient once he got started. Evidently he is the brains behind mushroom growing. He explained how they cover the shelves with straw, seal the barn with the rolled up plastic sheeting fitted to the walls and fill it full of steam that is created from a homemade water boiling contraption made from a couple of oil drums over a fire pit. Once the straw is steamed they spread the spores, wait a few days, apply water, wait some more then harvest 10 days later. Apparently he’d learned most of the process from YouTube and went on to show us another two similar barns with plans for some more. He was keen to go into ‘industrialised agriculture’. Another inspirational young Cambodian.

On our way back we learned that Hang had married the previous month, he bought his tuk tuk around the same time but also works in the hotel where we are staying, while his wife works in one of the casinos in the Thai border town. They are saving hard to by their own piece of land so they can live in the ‘fields’ (countryside) get a pond (for fish to eat) and start a family. You can’t help but be moved by the younger Cambodians’ optimism and hard work.

Back at the hotel for the midday sun we chilled out in the shade then boarded another tuk tuk for our journey to the bat cave. No, not the one built by Bruce Wane but a cave where thousands of bats roost during the day and all come out at dusk, returning at dawn.

The cave is in the side of a limestone hill, affectionately referred to as a mountain by the locals, and is a 30 min ride from Battambang. We enjoyed the slow tuk tuk ride through more rice fields, including one containing tall, green rice - clearly irrigated somehow, and stopped once to visit a stall selling barbequed bats. On reaching the ‘mountain’ we noticed many other tuk tuks, motorbikes and taxis and realised this was a tourist ‘must do’. Never mind. With time on our hands we walked up with our driver to the top of the hill to a cave into which the Khmer Rouge had killed thousands of people and tossed their bodies. The locals have built a sort of eerie memorial with a bizarre sculpture scene of the many ways the local people were tortured and killed on the way up to it. It really was a tragic time for them. At the bottom of the cave was another bone filled monument with a serene reclining Buddha overlooking them.

Further round the ‘mountain’ was a Buddhist temple that pre dates the Khmer Rouge and provides great views over the surrounding fields - or would have had it not been for the haze/smoke cocktail in the air. We must return in the rainy season to get a sense of the greenness that Cambodia is famous for.

Down at the base of the ‘mountain’ we found a good bat viewing spot and awaited dusk with the aroma of bat guano. We had read that the bats often pee on the way out of the cave so we’d come equipped with our hats but when they eventually started their migration they took a sharp turn at the cave exit and missed us completely - phew. What an amazing sight. Thousands and thousands of bats flying in a long thin cloud from cave exit to the horizon as they all left to hunt insects at a lake some miles away. It took around 30 mins for all the bats to leave - it must be some cave - after which we drove slowly back to the hotel just in time to witness the last minutes of a Taekwondo lesson for young kids in the riverbank park.

On the way to school and always happy to wave

The beautiful temple

Parched fields with a 'new' bridge for access to a farm

One of the mushroom barns

Bar-b-que'd bat - delicious!

What the rice fields should look like

Haunting images of how the Khmer Rouge tortured and killed people (the two naked ladies are being forced to climb trees with vicious thorns)

Parched fields. There is a canal through the centre but the farmers have to buy the water.

The highlight of the show - the bat exodus

With the locals.

Sun 28 Feb 2016 - Cycle tour of Battambang

This morning the wedding on the opposite embankment started at 05.10am so we didn’t require our alarm. We had an early breakfast with music, singing and prayers echoing over the loudspeakers the town. A tuk tuk driver met us at 07.30am taking us to Butterfly Tours office where we had walked to a couple of days ago. We met our guide for the day, Chenda, a 3rd year student at the Uni here and living in town leaving his family running a farm in the rural countryside. He is one of the founders of Butterfly Tours, all young locals working for themselves and not a foreign owned company employing locals. Fantastic to meet these young and dynamic adults. Chenda took us through the plan for the day and then kitted out with our bikes and a straw hat we were on our way.

On our way to our first stop we passed through a busy market where people had their wares laid out on the ground on used sacks or in various containers. Still alive fish were flapping their tails and gasping for air. Chenda bought fried bananas and fried potatoes and we ate these whilst watching the commotion as a second breakfast. Off next to just north of the town to Wat Somrong Knong (The well of Shadows), a monument to the Khmer Rouge genocide. A structure with skulls and bones recovered from the mass graves encased in a glass edifice placed on two large tiers, in front of which were a number of concrete reliefs depicting the fall of the area to the KR. They graphically portray the atrocities that took place thereafter and are shocking.

The Buddhist temple here was used as a prison and the surrounding areas killing fields where over 10,000 people, including monks, were put to death in the most horrific manner. You could not help but be moved by this place.

On our way for a short cycle to meet a local family who industriously make bamboo rice cakes, a local delicacy. Sawing short lengths of bamboo canes they stuff them with rice and cook them over a hot charcoal fire until the bamboo outer is scorched burnt. This outer layer is then sliced off with a huge knife and as you peel back the remaining  layer of bamboo inside is tasty sticky rice. A labour intensive process which involves all the family. Chenda prepared one for us to devour, filled with black beans it was a tasty third breakfast.

On to fish paste making where we had been warned the smell could be slightly overwhelming. Under a roughly built structure men and women sat on the floor and with expert precision gutted the fish and prepared fillets for sale. However, the paste is made from the tiny fish caught in the local river and left in salted vats of water for up to a year to ferment. The longer in the vats, the more expensive to buy - just like wine.

Next to another local cottage industry, making dried banana where a woman showed us her skill in slicing wafer thin pieces of banana with a very sharp knife and laying them out on bamboo sheets to dry in the sun with the whole process taking a couple of days. She encouraged us to have a go and of course this provided a good laugh all around and as a reward we were given lots more to taste and some bananas too. Oh dear, fourth breakfast or brunch?

Hopping on our bikes our next stop was to see how an important food staple here, Khmer noodles were made and the local family had prepared some dishes for us to taste. Chenda explained the incredibly manual and labour intensive process to making these fine noodles from rice with boiling, draining, pounding and sieving all done by various family members. Hmm, first lunch shall we call it?

Going on from here we met an elderly gentleman who distilled rice wine and he took great pride in explaining, in English, how he made his own yeast to a secret recipe and after the rice was mixed with the yeast within a few days could be distilled to 40% proof.  We were amazed to discover he learnt his English in the late 70’s, just before the Pol Pot regime, and decades later he is now using it with foreigners. Fantastic!

Time for proper lunch, even though we hadn’t stopped eating on this tour so far, and we headed off a way to meet a family who make rice paper, which is used for making spring rolls. Again we were amazed by the skill of the people and how labour intensive the whole process was in getting the rice to a consistence to a thick batter then skill is required to create a round ‘pancake’ batter which is quickly steamed, removed and hung over a piece of bamboo where the flimsy wet paper is then transferred to a woven bamboo sheet to dry out in the sun. Luckily at have a go time, we were naturals at removing the flimsy paper and laying on the bamboo sheet without making holes or tearing it. It was here our lunch had been prepared and we sat in the shade within their hotbed of industry and ate a local type of stew and a steamed fish. All extremely tasty. We were meant to have a snooze here in some hammocks to rest however, we had interesting discussions with Chenda along with teaching him ‘Lovely jubly’, which meant we were off to our next stop.

Cycling back through the main town we stopped at a local vendor to enjoy cold coconut juice served directly out of the nut. Our first since arriving in SE Asia which was very refreshing. Here Chenda chatted to the two young girls running this family business as we were intrigued to understand why they were wearing so many layers of clothes. Too keep a pale skin which Cambodian boys prefer and colours on clothes look better on pale skin, to the point they put on fake white. We all giggled as we explained  Westerners think clothes look better on dark skin to the point they put on fake tan. How absurd.

Then we were on our way to Wat Kor ancient house built over 100 years ago in a Cambodian style for a local wealthy man. His great granddaughter was on hand to show everyone around, she’s 75 years old, spoke french and although very frail was determined to show all the foreigners this popular tourist venue.  Glenn commented that his Mum’s home was older than this house. Perhaps there’s a money spinning idea there then!?

And lastly, we cycled some way to jump on the well known tourist favourite, the bamboo train. Sold in Lonely Planet as one of the world’s all time unique rail journeys we were highly delighted this was included in our bike tour. Joining it outside the town we knew the train bumps along for 7km along warped, misaligned rails and crossed perilously looking fragile wooden bridges. Each bamboo train consists of a long wooden frame covered lengthwise with slats of bamboo that rest on the wheels of the train with a very noisy petrol engine providing power.

We sat crossed legged on a couple of cushions placed on the bamboo slats and were soon speeding along the track bumping and jolting around. As it is a one way track anyone coming the other way has to stop and lift off the bamboo frame and remove the wheels to the side and replace them when we passed. It was very busy and basically operated by local villagers for tourists with stops half way to buy a few beers and at the end of the leg out was a little market. Great enterprise. On the return leg, after our frame and wheels had been reversed we noticed how golden brown the rice paddy fields were following the harvest.  Many fields clearly recently burnt, which accounts for the acrid and hazy air around the town over the last few days.

Our tour completed, we cycled back to town, dropped our bikes off and thanked Chenda for a great day out with him. He saw us safely across very busy streets in the town flagging to locals to slow down for us, which they did, and he kept a smile on his face all day although we asked so many questions. Their venture deserves the #1 ranking on TripAdvisor and clearly shows to the community they can influence their own lives.

At the market

A country lane

Bones at  Wat Somrong Knong memorial

Chenda demonstrates opening the bamboo rice

And the tasty, sticky contents inside

The hive of activity filleted the today's catch

Vats of fish paste

The lady warming our dried banana for us

Chenda displays a sheet of dried banana

The young girls serving at the noodle stall

Rice wine still

Glenn tried is spreading the rice paper

We wait for our bamboo train to depart

Burnt out rice fields

Bring on the clowns

Sat 27 Feb 2016 - Battambang


This morning we were awoken at 0600 by the sound of very loud music blaring over the city. Some sort of festival maybe? Never mind down to breakfast, which was interesting. We arrived at the hotel’s outdoor restaurant, placed our order (no buffet today) and waited for our food and drink to arrive. The ‘full american’ arrived without incident but Yvonne’s cup of white tea was just that - white. Unable to miss her morning cuppa she accompanied the serving lady to the kitchen and with a combination of slow english, sign language and demonstration taught her how to make strong black tea in a pot and pour a splash of milk into the cup.

Fully fed and watered we dropped in at reception to arrange tickets and transport for tonight’s circus, more of which later, and enquired what the music, which was still playing, was all about. ‘Wedding’ said the guy on reception. ‘Surely it can’t go all day’ Yvonne remarked. ‘Two days’ said the guy. Oh good!

Planning a bicycle tour tomorrow we set off to find the outfit we intend to use to book and pay. Glenn had downloaded a screenshot of the google map to his phone so all should be good. We wandered along a couple of main roads, dodging the mopeds that sped towards us, until we found street 314 just off a roundabout with a huge Buddha statue in the centre. Now all we had to do was find street 309 on the right and we were there. We walked past a school disgorging hundreds (literally) of kids on mopeds and bikes then past shops of several shapes, sizes and state of repair until we came to the first turning. Oh, no street sign, maybe the next one then. You can guess the rest, no street names at all. Eventually after a wrong turn, a conversation with a local, doubling back on ourselves and counting the turnings we found the place, met the young students that run it (coincidentally getting married next month) and made the arrangements for tomorrow.

On the way back we stopped at a local cafe with Yvonne, once again, visiting the kitchen to discuss the correct way to make english tea. It arrived pitch black. There are some things you just can’t win at.

Passing our first Cambodian Wat (temple) we called in for a look around. Very different to the Thai versions with more Hindu influences due the Hindu kings that use to rule this area. There were figures of monkey gods, rows of men (?) all hauling against a giant cobra, four headed Buddhas, elephants… All in all quite surreal. Most of the Cambodian temples were destroyed by the Khmer Rouge but Battambang was, fortunately, run by a disobedient official. It was in a poor state but is slowly being restored and is impressive nevertheless. By now the midday sun was taking its toll so we returned to the hotel to cool down.

Feeling better we resumed our explorations and visited the wedding from where all the noise was emanating. Gingerly approaching the screened off tent from a shop front across the pavement to the street we were invited in and shepherded into a good vantage point and encouraged to take photos - even though the ceremony was in full swing with the couple lighting candles and officials and monks chanting over the PA.

Afterwards we found another partly restored temple over 100 years old with stupas of all shapes and sizes containing the deceased. We tracked down the museum, which was closed. With time ticking on we returned to the hotel to shower, dine and board our remorque (fancy tuk tuk) for the circus.

The circus, a main attraction in town, is run by a charitable school started by a single French lady that teaches youngsters the arts: painting, drawing, theatre, acrobatics you name it. We had arrived early to visit the art gallery, which contained some amazing work from year 1 and 2 students. Then it was into the tent for the main event. The show receives mixed reviews on TripAdvisor from those complaining about the cost (~£10) and the unprofessionalism of the acts to those raving about what a great job the youngsters do. We definitely fell into the latter camp. It was brilliant! Acrobats, jugglers, dancers, a live band playing traditional music through the whole performance and, of course, clowns. The three young guys that clowned around were hilarious yet all three displayed another skill during the show. One goofed around balanced on a ladder, one performed acrobatics (you know the stuff where they jump onto someone's shoulders etc) and the last performed an amazing routine balancing on a platform sitting atop several cylinders all stacked at right angles to each other. You can imagine the movement beneath his feet with that lot rolling about but somehow he managed to stand up. We had sat with a large group of young Cambodians and they were innocently giggling at the most slight suggestion of flirting on the stage and particularly loved one of the clown’s overly enthusiastic western style of dancing around the stage.

Sure some of the acts had minor mishaps (eg. A guy on a unicycle, jumping up and down along a burning skipping rope fell off and Yvonne was scared for his trousers catching alight). These aren’t professionals but the enthusiasm of the performers and the infectious fun in the tent made for a memorable night. We left with tears in our eyes and warmth in our hearts. All we have to do is get to sleep with the wedding still in full swing across the river embankment and wait for tomorrow’s early alarm call.

The school bike shed

Guys pulling snake???

The pagoda

Refurbishment in full swing

The wedding

The clowns. The one in the middle eventually stood on the top of the two wobbly platforms

Chaos at the after performance photo call

Dodgems

Fri 26 Feb 2016 - Bangkok to Battambang, Cambodia

We’d read that the crossing of the Thai/Cambodian land border can be problematic so partly because of this and partly because the fare was so reasonable, we decided to book our own taxi rather than use the bus. Met in the hotel lobby at 0800 by our driver we threw our packs in the boot and jumped in the rear seat. The driver saw us both fumbling about under the seat trying to find the seat belt buckle and said to us ’no seat  belt’. We looked at each other apprehensively then thought ‘ok, this is how they roll in Bangkok’ before heading off into the melee that is Bangkok traffic. The guy was clearly an expert and dodged and weaved through the slow moving queues, hoards of tuk tuks and swarming mopeds until we hit a motorway.

Time to sit back and relax. Oh no. As the guy was being paid a fixed fee he was clearly intent on getting there and back as quickly as possible. With Yvonne clutching her seat he left no gap from the vehicle in front, switched lanes whenever he could and cut in front at the last moment - all at 70mph. He seemed to know what he was doing, however, so we settled back admiring the miles of stationary traffic going into the city on the opposite carriageway.

After burning up a few miles we left the motorway and joined a normal road thinking maybe it will all calm down now. But no, we continued to make rapid progress and at one point we were sitting at some lights behind a lorry in a turn right lane when the straight ahead lights turned green. Once those lanes had emptied he veered inside, undertook the stationary lorry then cut back in front of it beyond the stop line, waited for the lights to go green then sped off with no one seeming at all bothered.

Despite all this he did get us to the border town very quickly, overtaking several tourist buses on the way, which is just what we’d hoped. Arriving in the Thai border town the main road was tail to tail with lorries and cars queueing and with clear overhead signs showing border straight ahead we thought we’d be joining them, when suddenly he turned off the main road and Glenn reminded him we wanted to go to the border post. ‘Yes, border, border’ he replied before turning down another side street and delivered us to small car park. He then loaded our packs on our backs, took his cash, showed us the exact building to enter 100m away and was gone. Amazing.

Ignoring the scamster guys all offering to get is a visa at an extortionate price (we’d applied online a few days earlier) we crossed the manic road and entered the Thai exit office - which to our delight was totally empty. A few quick stamps of the passport and we left to walk across the actual border, a large stone arch across the road, following the signs stating ‘go to Cambodia’. The border itself is a strange affair. The road continues uninterrupted between the two countries and it seemed quite possible to walk straight across, as many locals appeared to do. Between the two immigration posts is a 300m stretch of no man’s land full of duty free shops and casinos, which we hastily crossed not wishing to get caught in the large queues that often form in the sweltering heat on the Cambodian side.

The Cambodian “office” of three guys in a hut was also empty. What a result! We were handed some forms to complete, sat at the rickety table on two of the six chairs then up to the kiosk for a few more stamps and we were in. No questions and no fingerprinting which we had been expecting. Total time 10 mins - we’d read it can take hours!

Once out of the office we were directed to the stop for the official shuttle bus and told to wait in the shade. As it arrived loads of luggage was delivered on sack barrows, presumably from a coach load behind us currently going through the Cambodian hut. Phew! We boarded the bus, the driver waited a short while but as no one else arrived he set off with the young guy who’d directed us to the shade. At the ‘transit terminal’ the young guy asked us where we were going, how we wanted to get there (bus, shared taxi, dedicated taxi) and directed us to the counter. With our US dollars handed over (no one uses Cambodian Riels) he took the address of the hotel, found us a cab, gave the driver some instructions and we were off. Less than 30 mins cab to cab. Amazing.

The drive to Battambang took 2 hours on a single carriageway road with the more typical Indochina travellers, scooters with 3 people and hen shoved up a shirt, motorbikes with the back passenger hold onto overladen loads by a pole, school uniformed cyclists, beaten up lorries and impatient car drivers. All weaving in and out and trying to avoid the oncoming traffic which was doing exactly the same. The journey took us across a rural landscape of paddy fields and through a few towns with chaotic traffic and the common placed street vendors sitting on the side of the road selling drinks and food in the shade of a tatty umbrella.

Arriving in Battambang we soon realised this is a major town and drove along a large industrial main street filled with row after row of scooter and moped sellers/renters, near derelict motor repair shops, a huge rice mill and the dodgy looking hotels. Our driver wasn’t familiar with our hotel address (doesn’t bode well, does it!) and after asking a few locals we finally drove up to a building facing the brown river and and on a busy road. A quick check in led us to a corner room one side facing the river overlooking the town and a quite modern low rise apartment block to the other side.

As the air cooled we took a stroll over the river by the bridge, unlike the locals who wade across the river, to the buzzing town streets. The main street was vibrant with food stalls and a playground and outside gym along its length and families were out with kids on swings and seesaws, older boys were on parallel bars showing off their strength, groups of men playing a cross of badminton and footie game using their feet to kick the shuttle and the older ladies gently using cross trainers and walking along a rectangular area with a path of stones in barefeet. Glenn was intrigued so slipped of his sandals and stepped on and immediately started ooh, aahing hobbing along just as you do walking along a pebbled beach but apparently the stones here were sharp. Completing just one circuit, the ladies were going around and around, Glenn sought the comfort of his sandals.

The locals were stopping on their scooters at the food stalls in a drive thru fashion and along the river ‘promenade’ were pop up restaurants with miniature tables and stools were it looked like you ate the one choice made on the stall. The dirty dishes were rinsed out in bowls of water at the side of the road. We elected to eat at the hotel restaurant as it looked very good value and we were not disappointed. Yvonne is getting fairly adept at eating with chopsticks now managing to even pick up peanuts.

The sunset and as we returned to the hotel in the dark we could here on the other embankment a parade of loud drumming with firecrackers being let off. Wonder what that was about.

The crazy no-man's land. The actual border is the arch in the distance.

Action packed Battambang street

The locals wade across the river rather than walk around the bridge.

Sunset over Battamabang

And with the sun gone out everybody comes. The stone walking track just in the foreground.

The Swarms

Thu 25 Feb 2016 - Ananta Samakhom Throne Room and Vimanmek Teak Mansion

A leisurely start catching the now familiar dirty, smelly water taxi and getting on and off in style along with the locals. Donned in the mandatory long trousers and elbow length sleeves for our visit to the Throne Hall and a Teak Mansion all in the Palace Grounds. The walk to the Throne Hall took us along a very splendid road lined with Government Departments and expanding over the roads we walked under ornate and colourful arches with metres high images of the King, Queen and Prince included on the pillars. This was the Mall equivalent we guessed. The railings to the buildings were swathed in yellow and white, colours representing the royalty here. We enjoyed the shade of the Tamarind trees, we which can now identify following yesterday's cooking class.

Approaching the Throne Hall at the end of this street we noticed it’s not dissimilar style to St Paul's Cathedral and we could already see the hordes of coaches parked up in front of it. Inevitably, we joined the throng of orientals to queue to pay our entrance fee and told to buy a sari skirt for Yvonne as trousers were not permissible. A bargain at £1 but annoying. All personal items, phone, camera, water, hats, sunglasses, etc had to be put into a locker. New regulations since the bombing in Bangkok in August 2015.

We now had to go through security on the other side of the gardens before we could go in the entrance.
With men and women segregated in lines by a rope. Glenn managed to walk straight through as coach loads of Chinese men were queuing in the ladies. Yvonne made gestures to bugger off in your own queue, when a palace guide spotted the misdemeanor and strongly enforced their movement to the correct line on the other side of the rope. The guide then beckoned Yvonne over and ushered her past all the chinese ladies and straight through to the entrance where Glenn was waiting. No body search at all.

The throne hall was built on the Palace grounds for royal and governmental pageantry but now houses an exhibition of the masterpieces from the Queen Sirikit Institute. This charity, set up by the current Queen, helps rural communities around the country to learn the traditional Thai skills to ensure these skills are passed to new generations and not lost. It also enables them to earn a supplementary income.

However, with the current King and Queen hitting their 80s and their only heir his 60s is the last few years these skilled craftsmen have made some extremely elaborate pieces in commemoration. Exquisite gold and jewel encrusted copies of thrones, royal barges and howdahs (the box seat to ride an elephant) in incredible detail and ore inspiring workmanship. A carved fretwork wood panel on traditional Thai themes had scenes on both sides in the teak wood panels. The detail was incredible (Glenn - the most amazing carving I’ve ever seen). Likewise an embroidered scene on the scale of a huge carpet with such delicate silk threads used in an overlapping stitch to create shading of hues and light. Jaw droppingly beautiful. An iridescent blue green decoration provided by the wings and skeleton of Sternocera beetles is used widely to decorate textiles, jewellery and one room was completed decorated with wall and ceiling panels and a 20 armed chandelier. A bit over the top for one room but individually exquisite. All made by poor farming communities and given to the King and Queen. We wondered who bought the diamonds, emeralds, gold etc to create them.

Unfortunately the place was mobbed by you know who’s, but stripped of their phone cameras and selfie sticks, their tour guides were able to swiftly move them past the exhibits with them barely glancing at them. Tour group after tour group, as one left an exhibit they all moved on one. In the brief period between each one we managed to get an isolated viewing intently listening to our handheld guides. 

We spent several hours in here marvelling at the craftsmanship but conscious we may run out of time to visit the Teak House we reluctantly left. The Teak House entrance rules were similar so we anticipated the same rigmarole and that’s exactly what happened with the added bonus of having to leave our shoes in a basement.  You can imagine the stench of hundreds of pairs of shoes in a hot country. Quickly dumping our shoes we managed to enter before another coach load arrived. Whilst we looked at just the first room, four tours groups were led through and Yvonne quizzed Glenn on where the terrible smell was coming from. Feet, Glenn replied. Our tour around the rooms was leisurely whilst the tour groups just kept on walking past, walking past, walking past. The stench of feet was terrible. The room guides sniffed perfumed bottles and wore face masks. Unfortunately we didn’t have any english guide so all we could take from our visit was a King had it built in beautiful teak and it housed his personal belonging and photographs. 

Hot and tired we sedately walked home catching the smelly, dirty water taxi and back to the hotel room duly knackered. We elected to return to the restaurant Once upon a time, just around the corner and had an equally lovely meal discovering a starter using kaffir leaves which you had to fold and fill with various meats, shrimp and spices. Gorgeous.

Returning to pack our backpacks, a 5 minute job, we had an early night slightly apprehensive about our border crossing tomorrow to Cambodia.

A punter receiving his blessing from a monk after giving him a food donation

Ananta Samakhom Throne Room 

Vimanmek teak mansion

Howdah 

Amazing silk tapestry

Elaborate beetle wing chandelier

Yvonne with a filled kaffir leaves

Woks cooking?

Wed 24 Feb 2016 - Thai cooking class

Today we had a cooking class booked for the afternoon so we spent the morning in the hotel room researching and preparing the next few days for our trip to Cambodia. At lunch time we took a Tuk Tuk ride, Yvonne’s first, to Lumpini Park for a stroll around some grass and trees. Whilst looking over the lake we spotted a large lizard swimming around that then made a couple of exploratory forages ashore before disappearing up a drainage pipe. Not sure what he was after. Then we passed a lady practising some sort of weird tai chi movements with a sword - not someone to be messed with. After sitting in the shade people watching it was time to make our way along Silom street to the appointed meeting point for the cookery lesson. 

At the designated corner we met our classmates: a mother and daughter from Hong Kong, a couple from Vienna, three Korean girls and a Chinese guy. What an international group. With our names checked off the list on a clipboard we headed off to the market to meet our teacher, Jam, and buy the ingredients for our meal. Jam explained the differences between various sorts of chillies, showed us four different forms of ginger (never knew there was more than one) then discussed the various vegetables - the Thais seem to have many forms of the same plant: eggplants, limes, bananas… With all the ingredients bought we jumped into 3 hot and sweaty tuk tuks and sped off to the house where our lesson was to take place.

All the info about the cookery school we’d seen online had shown us a purpose built venue but Jam, who shared our tuk tuk, explained that the school was going so well there were now two classes and ours was taking place at the owner’s house. After snaking along a few alleys we arrived at the house, left our sandals at the entrance and went into a lovely home full of stuff from around the world. First item on the agenda was making the coconut milk for the dessert rice. Kneeling on traditional cushions on the floor Jam showed us how to hack open a coconut then use a traditional scraping bench to shave the ‘meat’ from inside. As this was such a slow and laborious process she pointed to five bowls of shavings already prepared by a machine and set us kneading the meat in warm water with our hands then squeezing out first the cream, then repeating the process to get the milk. All the cream and milk was then mixed with some rice and left to soak.

Onto the starter, Pad Thai (fried) noodles. Moving to the chopping room we sat around a large table with 10 chopping boards and a scary knife to slice and dice the accompanying spices before moving outside to a small courtyard with a line of woks and gas burners. Jam explained the key of Thai cooking is the correct use of high and low heat and barked out ‘high’, ‘low’ or ‘gas off’ at the appropriate time as we first fried a sauce then added the noodles. Finally to the best room of all; the dining room, to scoff our first dish. Delicious.

Next we made spring rolls filled with chopped vegetables and two types of mushrooms, one of which was like a jellyfish. This was accompanied by a salad of sliced green papaya and carrot that two of the group had made using a julienne peeler, which was then ‘smashed’, Jam’s term for using a large wooden mortar and pestle, with some chillies, ginger and limes. Back in the chopping rooms Jam showed us how to roll the contents in some wafer thin sheets and seal them closed using a ‘glue’ made from cornflour, before back out to the woks to deep fry them while Glenn stirred the accompanying sweet (4 spoons of sugar!) chilli sauce until it was bubbling and wonderfully thick.

The main course was a massaman curry. We shared the chopping of the sauce curry paste ingredients then it was out for more ‘smashing by Jam, the austrian and the chinese guys, for a long while, to mash everything together to a paste.  Back to the woks for more shouts of ‘high’ and ’low’ while Jam patrolled up and down the line giving advice on when to add the chicken, potatoes and various spices. The curry was delicious and was served with some steamed rice that some assistants had already made.

Immediately afterwards we enjoyed the chopped mango and coconut rice we’d helped with at the start of the class. All very pleased with ourselves we chatted about what we’d learned and how good the food was before saying our farewells and heading our separate ways.

With no dinner required that night Yvonne stayed home and Glenn went out shopping for some deodorant (Boots two for the price of one even in Bangkok!) and a USB charger.

In the back of the tuk tuk returning from the market

Our instructor, Jam, in the wok room

Glenn  with the sweet chilly sauce

Yvonne smells the massaman curry paste

Thai massage

Tues 23 Feb 2016 or 2559 here - Bangkok - still

Following being the first ones at breakfast (!) we sped off in the rush hour intent on beating the Oriental crowds for our visit to the Golden Palace. Our strategy was to get there as near to the 8.30am opening time we could. So far, we had this cracked. Stopping several taxis none were interested in taking us, we had to think quickly. We raced down to the familiar territory of the dirty, smelly canal taxi. dodging the traffic on the way, including scooters driving on the pavements. Fortunately a barge had just arrived at the pallet quay and we hopped on and it zoomed off. All on target.  At this time of day it was packed with commuters and made frequent stops along the journey into town. We adeptly clambered off in the melee following the crowds up to the main streets and sought a taxi. We could clearly see the majority of the rush hour traffic was going in the opposite direction, no taxi would be interested in our fare. Glenn quickly got our bearings and we were off, frogmarching at speed along a main highway with Yvonne half running, half walking to keep up.  At major intersections we had to wait for the green man crossing and much to Glenn’s irritation the traffic lights countdown alongside the green go’s for minutes at a time. All lost time! At minor intersections with no green mans but still the constant flow of scooters, motorbikes, tuk tuks, taxis, coaches, buses and cars, we couldn’t brave it on our own but glued to a local you could manage it. Whenever they made a move you followed in their footsteps. At one point we heard gasps from the pavement and shouting from the road and we saw a lady lying in the middle of the 5 lane highway looking like she had been struck by a car whilst either crossing the road or hit whilst on her scooter. Cars came to a screeching halt and momentarily there was hush before everyone starting yelling and running over to help. 

This was now a ridiculously slow journey and we were getting hot and frustrated, no less because we were covered in long trousers and sleeved shirts. This is the strict palace dress code and adopted at several of Temples too. We lessened the pace as we knew we had made great progress to ensure a swift entry to the Palace.

Finally we were crossing the park at the rear of the palace walls, a space still calm and serene following the festival there yesterday. Breathe in and sigh. We were there! And only 8.45am even having walked most of the way. We turned the corner to the entrance and we were hit with wave after wave of yes, Orientals around 10 deep in lines following their guides with the signature follow me umbrella lofted high, through the main gate. We couldn’t even see the end of the queues. Disheartened, we decided to replan our morning and return here around lunchtime when the coach operators had finished, from what we read in reviews. 

Our change of plan took us literally around the corner, to Wat Po temple which houses the famous reclining Buddha along with the largest collection of Buddhas in Thailand something like 800+. As we had arrived so early we enjoyed the serenity of the courtyards and took time to observe the reverences required whilst in the various temples and viewing Buddha. No shoes in temples and Buddhas eyes should always be above your waistline. We set about calmly wandering around the temple grounds and entered the reclining Buddha temple. A soaring gilded Buddha lay before us. We pondered whether the temple had been built around the figure or the figure made to measure around the building as it was a perfect fit. The life story of Buddha was depicted in beautifully painted wall panels which continued up into a high ceiling. Every part of the building was highly decorative surrounding this gigantic Buddha laying on his side, his arm propping up his head.  As we took so much time gazing at Buddha and the decorations we soon realised the crowds were entering the building and doing the stop and snap selfies, so we decided to leave. The morning was getting hotter so we took refuge in some of the quieter temples to contemplate the Buddhas and admire the highly decorative displays surrounding him. Everyone took their shoes off going into these temples but it was sad to see them sitting on the floor with the feet pointing towards the Buddha. This is considered extremely disrespectful and your feet should be tucked under you in a kneeling position or if sitting on your side with your feet pointing backwards. In one temple there were uniformed guards who ensured everyone took off shoes and periodically they came inside and told people to move their feet. They must despair of us tourists sometimes.

Getting slightly templed out we came across in the far corner of the area, the Wat Po Thai massage training school. This is a highly accredited training school and they welcome people to come in for either feet, half hour or full hour body massage to let their students practise. Yvonne had been quite keen to stumble on this place and promptly dragged Glenn in to pay the small fees they charge. Questioned half or full hour, Yvonne without hesitation replied full hour and Glenn shrugged shoulders and agreed. We were met by our students, bloke for Glenn, lady for Yvonne who took us to another building with rows of beds and shown where to change into huge baggy shorts and a top for Yvonne. Then lying in adjacent beds our one hour massage experience commenced. The first noticeable thing was hearing someone snoring very deeply close to us. Trying to contain our giggles we both closed our eyes not to encourage any further sniggering.
From here it was an hour of painful but pleasurable stretching and manipulation of legs, body, arms and head with our masseur contorting themselves to maximise our movements. This all finished in a very quick hour and we both sat on the edge of our beds for a short while unable to muster the strength to go and change. We sluggishly revived with a mulberry tea and soon perked up both exclaiming how quickly the hour passed and let’s do that again tomorrow! 

We both excitedly exchanged painful manipulation poses agreeing on which ones felt most beneficial and felt we were now sufficiently invigorated to tackle a return visit to the Grand Palace. A hop, skip and jump around the block and ...we stopped in our tracks. Another seemingly endless swarm of orientals queueing to get in. With gritted determination we joined the ranks through a security bag check and then found the long queue to pay. We were in the midday sun surrounded by hundreds of selfie wielding, noisy tourists when Glenn announced we possibly didn’t have sufficient cash to get in following the unexpected massages. Yvonne jumped at the chance to say let’s go then, with a plausible argument we can return later in April when we return to Bangkok to fly to Sri Lanka. We weaved past the incoming crowds and slumped on the perimeter wall in the shade. Composing ourselves we decided to walk back and passed dozens of shops selling religious paraphernalia with dozens of shrines, life sized plaster caste golden Buddhas and bejewelled elephants, we turned into several long narrow alleyways crisscrossing our way back with a gentleman cycling past with a fully laden hardware shop on his bicycle complete with feather dusters and the carpenters area where they worked on massive lathes practically on the street with the wood chips flying out and covering passers by.

Traipsing around in the heat of the day was taking its toll as we hopped on the smelly, dirty water taxi back to the hotel crossing the chaotic roads with a slightly more ease. Electing for an early dinner we google mapped the area and spotted a restaurant, “Once upon a Time”. nearby (why didn’t find this two days ago!). and Tripadvisor had good reviews plus the hotel golf caddy ran us there. The restaurant is an oasis of calm in the middle of the high rise buildings and export/import businesses. A tropical garden with flowing waters shaded by huge banyan trees we picked some unknown dishes and enjoyed extremely tasty food. We suspect we’ll be back here very soon.

The hummungous reclining Buddha

Beautifully decorated temple roof

The house of pain aka the massage room

Just some of the 800 odd Buddha images

Quiet courtyard

Mobile hardware shop

Teak street