rakish richard's rants...

They Call Me Mr. Long Trousers...

Why, I don't quite know, but as usual my favourite mystery comment poster - 'anonymous' - seems to think I'm overdue somewhere, and I'm known by that name.

Well, I know what you're all thinking;

The old grey nag she ain't what she used to be,
Berin: Ain't what she used to be,
Mike: Ain't what she used to be,

... so, it might have been just a little while since my last post, and to all (both?) of you who a regular readers, my sincere apologies. BUT - this doesn't mean that I've lost any of my pep or vim, and after some pretty uncivilised living, I'm back on the internet wagon again.

I'm beginning today's update with some news, it's the start of my official campaign to start 'giving a little back', instead of illin' 'round my hood with my whack rhymes - so to speak.

Congratulations to my sister Kate, who speyed her first ever live animal (a dog, in case you're wondering), and it's still alive, so, um - choice bro! She's rool good at stuff wiff animals, and I'm not supposed to tell, but Berin and I had an idea - call it a 'vision', if you will - of a new kind of bird, with 6 legs and a really long neck. Except, on its neck it had hundreds of little hands, that it fed with. It might have also had a spring-like muscle at the back, but that's highly questionable bird design theory. Anyway, I reckon, that seeing as Kate's rool good at stuff with animals she can make if for us and we'll sell it to Motat. Someone send me the numbers.

Rightio, I last signed off from Vientiane, reeling from my newly aquired baguette habit. Well, we rolled out of there on the 19th, back on that old mule that has served us so well; the overnight bus. Twas a mild but sleepless journey, thankfully free of the blasting karaoke that usually accompanies these journeys. After pulling into Pakxe - and a botch-up with collecting our passports (with vital Cambodian visas) caused by the improbable chance that there were two offices by the name of 'Kiengkai', both situated by the ubiquitious 'markets' - we were straight onto a little truck (28 people skillfully packed into a Hyundai flatdeck truck) south to Si Phan Dhon, or the 'Four Thousand Islands'. This is a part of the Mekong abutting the Cambodian border where it widens out to create a multitude of little islands a bit like a delta, and we camped up in a little riverside guesthouse for three nights of rest before hitting Cambodia.

'Our' island was called Dhon Khon, and was really pretty quiet. There was a nice waterfall to see, an old steam train left behind by the French (I am sure I have wronged the French in a former life, as there's been a strong Gallic theme to life lately...) and some loverly cycling to be had, but we pressed on for the border on the 23rd.

It seems that our border crossing is only semi-official, so departure and arrival charges seem to depend on the particular guard you have, and how much he won at Russian Roulette last night. Despite now looking so poor that even beggers look past us, we managed to attract a US$3 per person 'overtime charge' just to get checked out of Laos. The other side was a similar tale of extortion, as we haggled with the speedboat drivers (who hold a complete monopoly on southbound transport) to get our boat trip down.

Anyhoo, after an hour and a half in the speedboat (anywhere between 6 and 87 hours by slow boat) we arrived in Stung Treng, but not before driving through the submerged forests which flourish in these parts. All very Lord Of The Ringsy, but I was disappointed that we didn't have an armed guard this time.

Stung Treng detained us for a night (as I get more tired, I feel each stop being condensed into less and less) before we embarked on a much bungled boat/bus charter to take us in the direction of Phnom Phen. The first half (boat ride) went very smoothly - no bottoming out, or just plain sinking as happened the week before - until we stopped in Kratie to pick up our, ehem, 'van'. Contrary to the original claim of "A/C van, only the 7 people who paid, many stops along the way, comfortable bus," we were collected in a grotty old behemoth, filled to the gunwhales with timber of every shape and description; from clean 50x50 cuts to completely assembled bookcases.

Oh, and then there was the, 'These are my three friends, who will come to enjoy Phnom Phen!' call, which came at a late hour.

There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth...

Don't ask how we ended up part of this, but sometimes you're in situations beyond your control, 'nuff said.

After our guide/organiser kindly organised another van, we experienced - in no particular order - a leaking transmission, crab snacks, a complete breakdown, an empty transmission, our guide crying, and demands of money from both sides.

On the bright and shiny side though - Jules and I stopped in tiny little villages, rode the local van, met some school teachers (6 of them - all going to the dentist...) who invited us to come and teach for a day, got offered fried spiders over breakfast, and saw some right nice temples that pre-date Angkor by a good couple of hundred years.

In the course of all this travel we managed to meet up with Angela (from our Chiang Mai trek), Sandra and Christian (hereforth known as 'The Germans'), and Kenny, a scot of pallid complexion but as wily an old fox on the chessboard as you ever did see, aharrrr!!! Thus, all was not lost, and the wild passage into Cambodia was a fun one.

Laos really did hit the spot, with all the satisfaction of the last one and a half seconds of your weekend morning stretch. I lacked nothing, wanted for little, and the whole place was just plain lip-smackingly good.

At the risk of sounding like a certain pop star who's awaiting trial shortly, but by hokey I've seen a lot of naked children... They really started showing up fast when we got to Laos, but the seem to be the front yard accessory of choice here in Cambodia. They're closely trailed (literally) by topless grandmothers, who are usually doing something with a bowl when I've seen them.

Hey, I just say-what-I-see...

Cambodia is shaping up lovely, and I had my first day at the temple complexes today.

It was really, really good.

I need a couple more days to take it all in, before attempting to write about it. It's even better than my Mum's pavlova, it's that good. The most commonly hawked souvenirs today were 'Mister! Cold Water I have!', and 'You buy postcard,' but it was the third placed yet somehow more charming, "Souvenir? My badge I sell you", from a police officer that really moved me.

So, those of you out there wondering where Rakish Richard has been, I'm safe and sound, but using dialup. I have no baguettes but crepes are showing up more and more. My handlebar mustache has gone, but I have now shaved everything from the collar up.

Angkor, is a wat.
Policemen sell their stuff. Still,
Angkor is a wat.

Your man, contemplating the sound of one hand clapping,

Arch :)

posted by Arch @ 9:44 PM