Day 38 Siem Reap to Battambang, Cambodia

Day 38 – Hers.

Our last breakfast in Siem Reap. One of the staff had made pineapple-mango jam that he wanted us to try.  It was very nice – certainly better than the little packets of ‘strawberry’ that are the norm.  We stowed our packs in the back of the minibus and set off – first stop a silk farm, another of the Artisans d’Angkol enterprises.  We learned about the life cycle of a silk worm and the entire process of hand spinning, dying and weaving.  We then, of course, visited the shop where beautiful handmade silk scarves and purses only cost $25 – cotton scarves just $4.  I was sorely tempted, but I am still (just) managing not to buy anything.  I still have to carry that pack for another 3 months.

For the next 2 ½ hours, the bus passed through (mainly flat) green countryside – rice paddies, fruit trees and, as we approached Battambang, fields of corn as well.  We did not pass through many towns; life is very rural between the main cities.  The road was better than that between Phnom Penh and Siem Reap – Limny told us that this is because the Thai government had funded it – but it was still quite narrow for a main highway.  There were a few hairy moments as petrol trucks, overloaded motor bikes and buses all tried to overtake each other in both directions.

Limny perked up as we drove into Battambang – his home town – and turned down a dirt road that we later learned was where he lived.  We stopped for lunch at a complex designed to provide education and vocational training to street children, particularly girls. (There is a huge problem with the child sex trade in Cambodia.)  The centre began in 1994 but is currently undergoing restructuring because it has lost much of its funding.  Rob was very taken with the place – the first such centre we have visited that is obviously severely in need of funds to carry on its work.  We made a video of the young aid worker’s presentation to us – after a truly delicious and very large lunch – to post on Youtube, requesting donations – and Rob bought a scarf from the shop that provides an outlet for the girls’ handiwork.

We checked into our hotel – this one is much more basic than the others, but Battambang is much less touristy; one gets the feeling that if it weren’t the nearest major city (town, really) to the Thai border that it wouldn’t be touristy at all.  Its name, Limny told us, means ‘Lost magic stick’ and comes from a legend of a demon who lost his magic stick.  (Apparently  village nearby is called Otambang which means ‘Found Magic Stick’ – so I think you can figure out the gist of the story.) Anyway, there is a huge statue of said demon in the middle of town – right next to a huge Thai trade fair.  There are quite a few French colonial style buildings and quite a few markets, temples, streetside shops and street vendors , all quite down at the heel looking really – and apparently also the headquarters of a number of NGOs who operate in Cambodia. 

Once at the hotel, we just chilled for a bit – and freshened up for our afternoon and evening adventures.

 Day 38 – His.

What can one say about Battambang. Well, to be honest not a lot. That isn’t from anything lacking in the town per se as we didn’t see much of it and that is precisely the reason I can’t, in all honesty, comment.

Now for the reason we didn’t see much of it. For us, Battambang is little more than a stop over as we go to the Thai border. But for Limny, well, it’s his home town. So, he organised a tuk tuk tour – but not of the town – of the countryside surrounding the town.

Consequently, half an hour after getting here found us bouncing along dirt roads, through jungle villages on the back of tuk tuks that were built like tanks. ‘They have to be built stronger here,’ Limny had told us and as we negotiated ruts that were deeper than some rivers I could see why. Every now and then Limny would call a halt to our little caravan and we would all clamber out to see some local highlight or other.

As it happens the local highlights were absolutely fascinating and were really a snapshot of local life. We stopped at one home and saw the family making rice noodles, another home where they made sticky bamboo rice (sweet rice stuffed into bamboo and baked in a fire – a great delicacy apparently), another home where a woman squatted over an open fire making sweet rice crisps and a little village given over almost entirely to the production of fish paste, crocodile food and smoked fish. It brought a whole new meaning to the term cottage industry. This is a largely rural district where the farmers supplement their income from the sale of their crops by producing – on a small sale – various bits and pieces. It was quite curious to be invited into their homes to see their lives and to have them welcome us so openly. Of course we tried various bits and pieces (except the fish paste – which in its raw state was not to western sensibilities) and of what we tried, I loved the sticky rice. Perhaps the most different was fish village which was quite pungent and the locals were squatting in fish guts and covered in blood as they hacked fish into pieces with great big cleavers.

Eventually the tuk tuks pulled up by a train line and we all got onto the bamboo train.

The bamboo train is a curious thing, particular to Cambodia and destined to die. The French built a train line from Phnom Penh in the early 19^th century and it passes through this province. So, it wasn’t long after that that the locals began using it to get from A to B as the roads were so rubbish. What they did was put a couple of small bogie wheels onto the track rest a bamboo flat onto the bogies and strap an engine onto the lot and career down the track as long as there wasn’t a train coming. If a train was coming they stopped and lifted the whole lot off and let the train pass. Then they put it back on the tracks and continued on their merry way. This has been going on for years and as time has passed and the ‘official’ trains have stopped running, the track has gradually deteriorated but the bamboo train has kept running.

The ride is, quite frankly, hairy. The small cart is held together by wishes and promises and they get some speed up as they hurtle through the countryside on warped tracks that threaten to tip you off any minute – but it does get you into the countryside where cars can’t go – there are just no roads and the locals use the train all the time. We stopped on a bridge by a lake and sat for an hour looking at the sun set over the paddy fields and then headed back. It was all a lot of fun, unfortunately the line is being renovated and is due to re-open to mainline trains next year and the police are due to clamp down on the bamboo train so it’s days are numbered. Such a shame.

After we got back to the hotel, Limny invited to his house for dinner. We met his entire family and he is something of a patriarch to everybody but his mother – who is about four foot nothing and hits him if he drinks too much. Dinner was a riot and we ended up singing Karaoke until the small hours which may have been a mistake as we are up early again in the morning to go to Thailand. So, the day began by not promising very much but turned into what was quite possibly one of the best days we have had.