Beautiful Cambodia

January 28, 2012January 28, 2012 ~ lyndarenham ~ 12 Comments

I have been lucky enough to visit many countries in my life but not one has stolen my heart as Cambodia did. I did not want to come home and could barely control my tears when saying goodbye to my step daughter in law. Not being able to have children of my own I have been very blessed with three lovely step children. The wife of my middle step son James has become very much like a daughter to me. The fact that she is now in Cambodia is difficult enough and leaving her and James was very difficult. We both failed miserably in controlling our emotions on the last day. The country itself as I said stole my heart. I cannot wait to return and hope to do so in the summer. While there, an assortment of wonderful ideas came to me and inspiration flowed like water. However, any ideas I may have conjured up were quickly dashed by my husband who always sees the practical. I never do. I am a jump into the deep end person. All my visions of moving out to Cambodia are not to be. So, I have decided to return in the summer for several weeks to do voluntary writing work if anyone will have me. Meanwhile, I have written a piece on the children’s hospital there as well as a brief posting on the Orphanage. I intend to write more as time goes on. But those two pieces are featured here on my Blog. If you wish to help either organisation in any way please let me know. There are still many humorous situations to share, not to mention the day I was almost bitten by a rabid dog. But for now I just want to share some photos of the wonderful people of Cambodia and the country itself.
We were very lucky to be invited to many places which tourists do not often see. One was a tour of the Angkor Hospital for Children. This was very moving and touched Andrew and I very much. We were also invited to see the Orphanage at the children’s Sanctuary. A nurse my stepson works with got married and invited us to her very traditional wedding. We were treated like celebrities. Everyone wanting to dance with us and have photos taken with us. It was amazing. We we also taken into a village to meet the people there. Here another wedding was taking place, one which we had not been invited to but they kindly allowed me to take photos of the reception hall and before Andrew and I knew what was happening we were taken up some steps to what I thought was a barn. It was in fact where the wedding ceremony was taking place. After much embarrassment we were asked if we would have a photo with the bride and groom.
But less chatter from me and more pictures.

DSC_1858 - Copy — Andrew with the local villagers.

DSC_2573 - Copy — Making friends at the wedding

DSC_2095 - Copy — Known as sexy frog, in Cambodia

Andrew on New Years Eve with his Tuk Tuk driver friend

Help, we’re sinking…fast

January 18, 2012January 18, 2012 ~ lyndarenham ~ 6 Comments

Here I am about to go on a boat trip and stupidly I had not even considered we would do this. How I had imagined we would visit a floating village without a boat being involved, I do not know. But that’s me, say yes to things and think about it later.
Now I don’t particularly like boats. In fact I don’t particularly like water either. Well, obviously not all water. I don’t want you think I don’t shower. It’s more sea like water, the stuff that boats sail on, that have an adverse effect on me. I have a good reason for this sailing aversion. I can’t swim and any boat trip is seen as a possible drowning threat. The only boats I will go on and probably then kicking and screaming are those that tend to have lots of safety equipment such as lifeboats, life rafts, life jackets; you know all those safety things that have the word life attached to them. I want to live you see for quite a few more years. I know, maybe learning to swim might be a good idea. My attempts at swimming lessons are a whole other blog. Anyway, as usual I am digressing. Back to the boat, did I say boat? Oh, God, never has something looked less like a boat than this one and the sailor less like a sailor. I want to die…
‘Surely we aren’t getting on that,’ I say weakly.
Andrew’s face is enough to tell me we are. After all we have just paid thirty dollars to go on this and Andrew is determined to get his money’s worth. If that means I drown, so be it. Okay, he isn’t that bad. In Cambodia there are two words that just do not exist. Those two words are Health and Safety. This is not a nanny state, oh no. I am the first to disapprove of nanny States but God knows right at that moment I would have begged to be part of a nanny state. The boat is of medium size and is made up of planks of wood with lots of gaps between them. It seems to be cobbled together from bits of old car parts. The motor is an old car engine lashed to the stern; the rudder is controlled by two lengths of rope strapped around a steering wheel

For some reason there is a hand brake which never seems to get used, obviously. The petrol tank is a plastic drum wedged into the back.

The back of the boat and the rickety chair. Note the car battery...

There is a noticeable absence of a silencer so when the boat was throttled back we were practically deafened, not to mention almost choking to death on the fumes. But when it moved it was like greased lightning. We shot off at such speed that the wake demolished any living habitation. The word conservation doesn’t have an equivalent translation it seems. But again, I digress. Before all this happened I had to actually board the boat. Not as easy as it sounds. I stared as if hypnotised at the distance from the ground to the inside of the boat and watched as Andrew heaved himself up. Yes, right. I continue staring until the captain understands the problem and walks off to get a ladder, obviously, except the ladder to the boat seems to be a rickety old chair with a hole in the middle. Knowing I have no other option I climb onto the chair gripping the Captains hand tightly. The Captain by the way looks not a day over sixteen and less like a Captain than anyone I have ever seen. What am I doing? Help!

I am finally on board and all I want to do is jump off. Where is everyone else? After all there is safety in numbers right? Before I know where we are he is starting the engine and we are off and like I say Greased lightning has nothing on us… I grip the sides and pray. I look behind us in the hope of seeing the security of another boat but there is nothing. At least the water is not too deep. Famous last words, I hear you say. Oh yes indeed. Ten minutes later the water is very deep. In fact all around us is water. Nothing else, no other people, no other boats, just lots and lots of snake infested water

and I fear I may never leave Cambodia alive. But amazingly enough we reach the floating village in one piece and he pulls the boat close to the floating café. We, of course, do not have any money left. On reflection, I do believe this was our big mistake.

Had we climbed from the boat and had a nice cuppa all would have been fine. The boat would have had a rest as would have we. But, come on, when do things go smoothly in my life? Come on, answer me? I rest my case. So, on declining a cuppa we take the long route to turn around and head back through the village and finally home. I am a bit more relaxed now and take some photos. I am slightly perturbed by the depth of the water but convince myself everything is fine as we are on our way back. I am so busy snapping away with my camera that is a few seconds before I realise the captain has cut the engine. The boat bobs gently on the deep water and I look around me to see we are totally alone. Not another human in sight. My stomach flutters and I tell myself it is flatulence. Well, let’s face it panic is the last thing we need. Famous last words. I turn to Andrew and in a forced calm voice, which he sees through right away, ask.
‘Is everything okay?’
He nods. ‘Just a slight technical hitch.’
Oh, that’s okay then.
‘We’re sinking’

Nothing in sight, not even a solitary fish

What! What! He points behind him and oh my God, there is water everywhere. Well of course there is water everywhere. What I mean is, it is everywhere it shouldn’t be. Like in our sodding boat. Oh someone please help. A slight technical problem? I’m going to drown and Andrew thinks it is a slight technical problem.
‘Please be serious, is everything okay? We will be okay won’t we? He knows what he’s doing doesn’t he?’
I get the ‘You are getting hysterical look’
‘I don’t know, but I presume so. He has stopped the engine.’
I look frantically around me. Must keep calm, must think of strategies for rescue. Look at the situation calmly. Okay, I am in Cambodia, in the middle of a deep-sea, with no other boats nearby and not another soul in sight, unless you count Andrew and the Captain. The Captain can’t speak English. There is no life raft, no life boat, no life jackets and I can’t swim. Oh God, soon there will be no life, No, no think positive. Think positive, why am I thinking this is somewhat impossible? The only thing I can see on the boat is water and a rickety chair. Deep breaths, deep breaths. I strain to see the nearest bank but there isn’t one. Check Blackberry. Yes, as I guessed, no signal. I’m going to drown in Cambodia and no one will know, well my family will. But no one else will. It’s not like I’m famous. I probably won’t even make the local paper. Oh, what a sad end. Oh, hang on what’s this? The Captain is strolling past me, fag in mouth, and carrying a car battery.

‘Ah,’ says Andrew. My lovely hubby has an irritating habit of saying Ah, and Mmm, a lot. I have come to know the meanings of these Ah’s and Mmm’s over the years and this is such a hopeful Ah that I allow myself a heavy sigh of relief.
‘What is he doing?’ I ask hopefully.
We both watch as the smiling Captain attaches something to the battery and sticks a hose into the water.
‘He’s draining the water out of the boat. Funny isn’t it?’
I beg to differ. I can see nothing to laugh about here unless you count my hysterical laugh as comical.

The boat continues to bob and the Captain gives us a thumbs up. Yes, well, this is not very good actually. After all we have paid for this. I could pay a lot less to go in a haunted house if I wanted to be scared to death. The water runs over my feet and I pull them up quickly. Visions of the water reaching my chin haunt me and I start humming to push the thoughts away. I lean over the boat to see the pump and feel my shoulders relax when I see the water pumping out nicely. Within minutes we are roaring through the deep waters and Captain eats his sandwiches while I dry swallow two painkillers and think that my nerves really cannot take much more. We dock with a bang and a thud and with Andrew and the Captain’s help, along with the rickety chair I disembark. Next step? I now need the toilet desperately. Be warned, that is the next blog…

Almost Cholera, but not quite…

January 15, 2012January 15, 2012 ~ lyndarenham ~ 1 Comment

Hello there peeps, sorry for keeping you waiting. You know how it is? You don’t? Well, I came back from Cambodia and am about to dish the dirt as promised except a few days after my return I went down with a shocker of a cold. Now, let me know tell you dear friends that I recall the bugger who passed this onto me quite clearly. I can still see his red nose as he coughed and spluttered behind me on the aeroplane. Rest assured I shall be taking my revenge before the week is out. That is, of course, if my lovely husband Andrew, who now sneezes uncontrollably, has not murdered me. Ah, the pleasure of returning home from holiday. Even our tummies are rebelling somewhat and trying to rid themselves of the last vestige of Cambodia it seems. So,let’s crack on with the show then, I mean Blog. Sorry, you can see I have been resting with Miranda Hart, not personally of course but if anyone can arrange that, let me know. Before we begin I should just say that Cambodia was one of the best countries I have ever visited and I am deeply eager to return again and what follows is my usual light-hearted view on life. Enjoy.
Now, where did I get to? Ah yes arrival at my stepson’s apartment with the building work, which I was convinced would not happen on Boxing Day. Yes, well, never presume. I woke at 7.a.m and for a minute I think I am alone. The beds in the hotel and at my stepson’s are so wide that you can lose your partner. After a bit of feeling around however, I soon found Andrew and let out a big sigh of relief. Any hope of getting back to sleep is dashed by the banging and drilling next door and we get up to enjoy Boxing Day in Cambodia. The rest of the day is spiffing, thank you. That evening we meet some friends of my stepson and his wife who are also holidaying and go for dinner. Ah, first complication of the holiday. What can we eat? The web advice was that all the water is poison and to avoid like the plague. Apparently, we are told, the water if drunk will turn your hair to wire This came on good authority from a monk, well ex monk. As for the food, make sure the hotel you’re in uses good hygiene. Yes, well this isn’t a hotel and I just don’t think it is common practice to ask to see the kitchens here or to meet the chef.
‘Don’t worry, the food is fine here,’ my stepson’s friends assures me. We quickly discuss it and decide that Pizza will be fine and bravely order. Oh dear… That night feeling perfectly fine I decide to stop being so nervous about tummy bugs

DSCF6477 — Our lovely dinner with Pizza and all.

and tell Andrew I am going to stop thinking about things like that. He agrees it is a good idea. The following morning I tell myself the nausea I am feeling is all in my mind and Andrew confirms this.

‘I feel fine and we ate the same thing. You are bringing this on yourself. Do you want to come with me later? I’m meeting James in his lunch break and we are going for a curry. The whole thing with a pint of beer only costs three dollars.’

My husband, ever the caring partner. Just the word curry sends my stomach into turmoil and I open my mouth to decline but instead rush to the loo to be violently sick instead with my imaginary upset stomach. Oh god… Andrew checks I am okay and then potters off. I am sick several times while he is out and several more times when he gets back. A trip to the temples the following day is cancelled and I find myself pining for home and a safe meal. I lay on my enormous bed feeling very sorry for myself and fighting down the nausea. Visions of being airlifted to a Bangkok hospital haunt me. Oh, God am I to die in Cambodia? A bit embarrassing if I do. What will Andrew tell people? I stress to him should this happen, he is to say I caught Cholera. One has to save face after all. That night I start to feel better and would have slept quite well had Andrew and his son not been throwing up. I decide not to ask Andrew if it is all his mind. The next day we look a little like the walking dead and decide to frighten the local community and take a walk.

All three of us looking the worse for wear. Daughter in law Lisa escaped, but only just.

In the end a very good idea for it certainly blew away the building dust and by the morning we were more than ready for a visit to the floating village. Our Tuk Tuk driver collected us on time and off we went down the Cambodian motorway. A lovely smooth ride until we hit the dirt track leading to the floating village. Let me tell you a trip in a Tuk Tuk through a Cambodian village needs some doing. Several times I was sure my womb dropped out and I didn’t have the heart to ask if we could return to retrieve it. I gave thanks to God that I didn’t wear contacts because after a couple of bumps in a Tuk Tuk on a bumpy road and you nearly lose your eyeballs let alone your contacts and trust me do not and I cannot stress this enough, do not go braless. It really isn’t worth it. Plus, of course, it is disrespectful in a country such as this. I rubbed my head with 4head and prayed the floating village wasn’t much further. Andrew meanwhile was attempting to photograph water buffalo as we jogged along. I pushed my hat back onto my head in the manner of Karen Blixen in ‘Out of Africa’ and attempted to look cool and glamorous. I failed miserably.

‘We here,’ shouts the Tuk Tuk driver and we both stare perplexed at what looks like border control. I look around me and see a tiny river. That surely cannot be the floating village. Then I realise we have to pay to enter the floating village. Neither of us had anticipated this and did not bring much money with us. It is 15 dollars each and we do not have enough. The Tuk Tuk driver pays the excess and we drive through to the next village, Andrew mumbling the whole way that he really doesn’t understand what we actually paid for. Five minutes later we find out. Several boats no correction, several things that look like boats sit bobbing on the water waiting to take the tourists (us) through the floating village. I look at Andrew and back to the logs that make up the boats.

‘Is that what we have paid for?’

I ask breathlessly.

‘Yes, let’s go.’

Answers Andrew.
I take another look at the boat, take a deep breath and in the manner of Karen Blixen about to go on Safari, I attempt to board…
To be continued.