From Royalty to Rags (Fri 22 Feb 2008)

It was the right day to go to the Royal Palace today as it’s a Royal Day in Phnom Penh – the Queen of Spain was in town – didn’t catch a glimpse though, but there were big banners over the roads welcoming her in Spanish – of course as I am such a fluent Spanish speaker, I had no problem translating. I nearly called the Palace and offered my translation services. The Palace is a large complex with lots of individual buildings, the centrepiece of which is the huge space where coronations and important receptions take place – very impressive, with lots of gold and yellow, Buddah’s and parasols, glitter and gilding. Another housed some Royal costumes – apparently there is a different colour for each day of the week. The seven life sized models in a row, each clothed in a different day colour unfortunately had the look of a series of blow-up dolls all sporting different but rather badly fitting modern wigs… In some there were also exhibits of various treasures. Amongst some ancient jewels and in the corner of a dusty case, incongruously displayed were an old 70’s gold cocktail watch and big sapphire dress ring from the same era – the identifying label was in khmer so I have no idea what on earth they were – perhaps it was a queen’s watch and ring but it seemed so out of place with all the much older grand jewels and cases. On the way out there are a series of other museum and art gallery type places which are interesting to see. One is a reconstruction of a typical wooden Khmer house on stilts. I realise they must be the original “over water” bungalows so loved by luxe hotels worldwide…. This was a house that would hold a largish family, but I realised it was probably smaller than said overwater bungalows in those luxe hotels. If it were given to me I would certainly ask to change rooms. There was also a recently completed exhibition of the latest King’s coronation with a scale model of the procession and along each wall, a wall painting depicting the riverside celebrations. Assuming this survives another 1,000 years of Khmer civilisation, what those future people will make of the balloons and the video cameras being held up to faces, I’m not sure. But in a lot of these display rooms, there are things out in the open, and no sign of any staff or even a security camera. Their trust is pleasing, but I hope they don’t become disillusioned as the number of Western tourists grows. And then to a different scene altogether, just a few hundred yards from the splendour of the Palace. I walk to the river, where you can see the join of the Tonle Sap and the Mekong. It’s filthy. There are all sorts of boats plying their trade – big cargo boats slowly carving a route through the middle, large tourist boats, long thin open boats, small fishing boats and some that look like small houseboats. And this part of the river edge is a far cry from the tourist area just up the road. There are people sleeping everywhere, families sheltering under tarpaulins with their clothes drying on the wall, people cooking on makeshift barbecues, ragged children playing. Families washing in the edge of the river, a man beating carpets clean (he’ll be lucky) in the water, people with handmade lines trying to catch fish, and horror of horrors, someone doing laundry. I have taken my laundry in to be done this morning, and I just hope that flash of blue I noticed was not my Lacoste t shirt….

Museums, markets and musings (Thurs 21 Feb 2008)

I check the map of Phnom Penh and the museum calls. Set in a beautiful old building not far from the FCC I brave the roads. I have finally developed my strategy for crossing. Look out for and keep out of the way of cars, buses and lorries, but don’t bother about bikes, cyclos, moto taxis or tuk tuks, they will find their way around you. But develop your “helicopter head” technique, some of the roads are quite wide so a continual turning of the head to stay aware is wise. If all that fails, use a local, as long as you keep the other side of the traffic from them, they will act as a human shield and you can cross in their shadow – it’s worked so far! The museum is more about ancient Cambodia than new, and is full of beautiful Buddah’s, bowls and carving from ancient times, some taken from Angkor Wat, but a lot of what was there has been taken back to Siem Reap for the newly opened museum there. And it’s interesting, whilst you can’t touch the exhibits, most are out in the open, not behind great glass cases so feel much more accessible. The setting is beautiful, around a garden with lotus and fish pools and relaxing greenery. But enough of old stuff, I then ventured on to the modern temple, shopping in the central market. On the way there I walked through an area where they are carving new stone statues, but the noise told me they are using more modern techniques of electric drills rather than the old fashioned hammer and chisel. They were producing some beautiful things, but alas too big to go in the case. And as usual you are approached to buy other things whilst walking along the streets – but the man with two bunches of feather dusters on a pole over one shoulder really was approaching the wrong customer… The central market seems more for local people – the Russian market yesterday seemed more for tourists. It’s a great labyrinth of dark stalls selling everything, watches, electricals, jewellery, shampoo, silks, scarves, shoes, clothes, food. The shoes were interesting and some had an eclectic mix of styles and labels even on the one pair of shoes, I didn’t realise that Burberry and Chanel had co-operated in their latest footwear offering… They don’t seem to be desperate for business though – I saw a very simple blouse I liked and she was asking $10 which was too much – I don’t want to bargain down too much, but wasn’t prepared to pay that so walked away – I didn’t get called back… The market is shaped like a big cross and marooned in the centre of a wide circular road teeming with people and vehicles; my newly developed helicopter technique came into its own. But I had had enough of crossing roads by the time I had finished there, so braved a tuk tuk ride back to the hotel for a decent coffee. I decided to while away the afternoon up on the terrace and whilst there met two guys from California who were real journalists (one a writer and one a photographer) actually filing their copy – a story about a village girl from the North of the country who is being taken to the US for life saving heart surgery in the next couple of days. You can read all about it at the Press-Telegraph website this Sunday. I felt at home as I also discovered that as a blog writer, I am a journalist after all – a “citizen journalist” apparently. So spent the rest of the afternoon whiling away the time “filing” my blog copy and generally enjoying the comings and goings of the FCC and musing on my time so far.

The Killing Fields (Weds 20 Feb 2008)

Today has been a sobering day and one of contrasts. I palled up with the Brit couple I met on the bus yesterday and we took a moto tuk tuk (an experience in itself) around town. We first visited the killing fields, about 14kms from the centre and the site of mass graves and a memorial to the genocide of the Pol Pot era. The central point is a Buddhist temple type memorial stacked with skulls of some of the people who were killed there grouped by age range and sex which somehow makes them more real. But the most disturbing part was as you walked around, the effect of rain and wind on the dusty, sandy soil means that it is still gradually giving up the contents of the mass graves beneath – pieces of clothing and bones are slowly making their way up to the surface under your feet. We then moved on to somewhere completely different, and a visit to the Russian market (so called due to its popularity with Russian expats during the 1980’s). Full of piles of clothing, silks, shoes and other stuff all mixed in with the smell of food, dried fish and other even less pleasant odours. I wasn’t sure their stock merchandising is quite up to Harrods standards; we weren’t there long and I will go back another day. We then motored on to the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum the site of the infamous S-21, the security prison designed for the interrogation and extermination of anti –Angkar (the Organisation) elements. It started life in the late 60’s as a primary school, and the building itself looks like any 60’s concrete designed school in Britain. Its use only changed in the mid 70’s after the Khmer Rouge took power. Estimates are that nearly 13,000 people were killed here after being brutally tortured between 1975 and 1978 including 2000 children. There were some graphic pictures of the torture and the stark rooms with an iron bed with shackles and a single picture black and white picture from the time on the wall were chilling. And rows of pictures taken at the time of the people who went through there – only 12 survived. It has been interesting being here, I now understand a lot more about what happened in this country during the time of the Khmer Rouge, both from visiting places like this and reading books – a lot of what happened was somewhat overshadowed in the news we got at the time by the Vietnam War which was also going on. We were talking to the tuk tuk driver who lost both his parents at this time. Everybody in this country has been directly affected by the brutal regime as they have all lost a mother, father, brother, sister or other close relative, and often many more than one. I read the book of the Killing Fields over the last couple of days, and bought a copy of the DVD in the market today, and watched it tonight. But given they lost so many people it’s good to see that now Phnom Penh at least appears to be thriving again, and reading the local papers there is more and more new investment – mainly in the tourist trade with new hotels going up, but hopefully that will help towards getting these gentle people back on their feet.
After such a day, I needed reviving, so up to the terrace at the FCC for a happy hour cranberry mojito – good for the vitamin intake. It’s a great place to not only enjoy the views over the meeting of the rather brown Tonle Sap and Mekong rivers and the riverside promenade which gets busier as darkness falls under tonight's full moon, but also the variety of people who are up there. It’s an ever changing panorama (if you stay there long enough…) of groups of German tourists, young Gap Year Brits talking loudly in drawling accents, groups of girls having an early evening drink, expats having early evening meetings. The character who looked like someone straight out of a Graham Greene novel, a big, elderly, grey haired gentleman with a battered panama, silver walking stick and huge cigar gingerly edging his way down the steep stairs after his couple of pre prandial G&T’s. And last night a group of Koreans – loud as usual – filming something with a great fuss of cameras, mikes, people and the man who was presenting whatever it was, perhaps a Korean travel programme, preening himself before the mirror. The riverside here that the FCC overlooks has a feel of the bund in Shanghai – much smaller, without the skyscrapers and lots less sophisticated, but full of little shops, rooftop bars and trendy restaurants all overlooking a busy river. But there is also a bit of a divide – the western tourists in the trendy bars and restaurants on one side, and the locals promenading on the river bank on the other…..

The girl without a pearl earring... (19 Feb 2008)

Here I am ensconced in the FCC (Foreign Correspondent’s Club) on the river in Phnom Penh – I feel like the BBC’s Kate Aide filing my copy and hoping to meet my deadline but just missing her trademark pearl earrings (and perhaps her posh accent)! And also, thank goodness, missing the bullets, bombs and butchery of the era when this opened in the early 90’s to an uneasy peace after years of the Pol Pot regime, followed by a long civil war. This place is really nice (see pic of view from balc). It is apparently the haunt of journalists and celebs – will let you know if Jon Simpson pops up. It’s in the centre of things, great “boutique” design room with an old bakelite telephone with a dial, but may be a bit noisy as it overlooks both the river and a really busy restaurant and bar area with tuk tuks, moto taxis and taxis plying their trade rather noisily – hey ho, just need a few more G&T’s to help me sleep. But you can tell it’s a journalist’s hotel – the mini bar is more of a maxi bar with full bottles of all spirits, no mini bottles here. The bar is upstairs and is dusty , yellow, and old colonial in feel, tired but in a great way as you feel some of its history, with ceiling fans lazily turning and squishy chairs all on an open terrace overlooking the river, with newspapers everywhere. Frankly though, I don’t think Kate’s got too much to worry about in the competition stakes – I was merrily tootling along on my 6 hour bus journey along the Tonle Sap river to its confluence with the Mekong (timetabled time was 4 ½ hours..) from Siem Reap and missing the news story of the decade – Castro’s resignation. Was enjoying an early G&T in the FCC bar when I saw it on the TV – Kate wouldn’t have made such a fundamental error. The 310 km bus ride from Siem Reap was interesting – all I can say is thank goodness for a video iPod as I could be entertained by the film story of another long bus ride, Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. And there was the most extraordinary pair of young Americans on the bus – both of them wearing full facemasks. Talking to a great Brit couple I met, Lynn and Bob, who had been chatting to them, it was the Western germs they were afraid of, not the local ones. And they had the biggest video camera you have ever seen with full microphone (but as the Brits said, in most cases, the Americans think they have the biggest of everything anyway - their words, not mine….). They were videoing everything – including the girl who decided to do an interview with one of the Cambodian passengers (she did at least take her facemask off for that bit). They will never be able to hear it over the noise of the bus engines and the Karaoke video blasting away up front. God help their relatives and friends when they get home, I’d hate to sit through that 6 hour journey again even on video! It was so bumpy it was not possible even to read a book – and a tip for next time, don’t move seats from the single at the front to a free double at the back for more space – the bumps at the back are even worse – I was literally being lifted out of my seat. But at least at the back, you couldn’t see what was probably coming directly at you on the narrow road, and you did get a feel of the general traffic conditions with the continued use of the horn and very sharp braking. But I arrived safely on said VIP bus (9US$ v 5US$ for the ordinary bus). VIP bus means 3 seats across rather than the standard 4 plus a snack (an indeterminate cold toasted sandwich) with a refreshing wipe and a bottle of water – not that much water got drunk, never sure what the “services” will be like!) Said VIP bus was also supposed to have an onboard loo, but no. To be honest such a bumpy ride would have made it impossible to use anyway. The journey was just mile after mile after mile of rice paddies with just the one town in between. All looking rather brown (the fields and the farm houses built on stilts) as this is the dry season, with the odd cow slowing down our progress. And on arriving, I braved a tuk tuk to the FCC, and felt like a proper traveller! But the whole journey was humbling in a way – it was the reverse of the journey the total population of Phnom Penh had to make one night in April 1975 when the Khmer Rouge took over and forced an immediate and complete evacuation of the city – they were told it was for 3 days but that wasn’t to be – the killing fields began.

Templed out at Angkor Wat (17 Feb 208)

Today I have been templed out – it was a bit of another “Queen” day as I hired a taxi with driver and a separate licensed guide to take me round the acres and acres of the amazing Angkor Wat temples. Great value at £25 all in for a full day, but when you are told that a teacher here earns 25US$ a month, perhaps it was quite a lot of money. But certainly worth it to me, so much more pleasant than having to go at the pace of the slowest member of the group on a bigger tour. I could “speed” sightsee to my heart’s content, see one bit and move on to the next at my own faster pace, and I got a lot done. Even though Ant had told me how big it all was, it still didn’t prepare me. The morning was spent at Angkor Thom complex with the most amazing bas reliefs, all telling the story in minute detail of the day to day life of the time. Battles yes, but also cooking, childbirth, drinking, eating, Apsara celestial nymphs, fish, crocodiles, real touches of humour all from 1,000 years ago, it was all there. We save the main Angkor Wat temple till after 2pm when the light apparently is so much better – but the best pic that most people want is the temple reflected in the reflecting pool. Only one prob, said reflecting pool was nearly empty as this is a very dry dry season, so not much reflecting going on and at least that gave me the excuse of not having to get up hours before dawn the next day to see it reflected in the pool in the sunrise light! By chance, I had also picked up a really good novel in Bangkok, “The King’s Last Story” all about the history of the temple and the great builder King Jayaverman VII told in between ancient and modern times and that really helped me decipher the info the guide was giving me as his English really was a bit iffy… But even so, the info he had helped me see many more things than I would have, had I done it on my own just with the guide book. It was surprisingly busy. But I walked miles, the main temple itself is 4kms around, and I scrambled up and down rocks and some rather dangerous staircases. So in the evening I was ready for a good meal. I found the Paper Tiger restaurant with free wifi, always an element in my choice. Right in the middle of the bustling restaurant area, and had a really enjoyable meal with two glasses of decent wine for the princley sum of 7US$.

Queen for the afternoon in the Kingdom (16 Feb 2008)

A domestic start to the day taking the laundry in to be done – 75p for a big bag – no launderettes in sight here… Then to the travel office to sort my itinerary. Ant said the fishing village was a good trip, so that was booked for the afternoon, and then my Temple trip for tomorrow. So the rest of the morning walking the town, getting my bearings, checking out the Foreign Correspondents Club, walking along the river and generally following in Ant’s footsteps from his visit here a year ago – strange but nice, just wish he were here now. Round the markets which are a real mix, one minute you are looking at beautiful, jewel coloured Cambodian silks then you turn round and find you are in the butcher’s section – enough to put you off meat for life, just huge chunks of indeterminate material with not a fridge or a bit of cling film in sight. But one restaurant obviously doesn’t buy from here, they know exactly what they serve and proudly boast that they don’t serve dog, cat or worms – and that in a restaurant called the Dead Fish… Perhaps they just go to the fish bit, just after the shoe section and it was a smell to behold! There are also hairdressers in there; the clients lie back on a bed like a massage table with their head hanging off the end, and buckets of cold water are poured over as there appears to be no plumbing, My hair really needs cutting but decided to wait until I find something that is a little more like Toni & Guy. I bought a few really nice books on Cambodia very cheaply at a bookshop, and then as I was sitting having a nice cold drink, was approached by Douak – a man with a basket of books around his neck. He had no arms left below the elbows and his chest bared so you could see the horrific scars. He was a victim of a landmine, selling books about landmines and the past problems of his country to people like me. So as you can understand I am now the owner of even more books….. But as I start to read one, I realise why they are cheap – they have all been photocopied and bound! You can see where they have hand corrected the bits where the photocopier didn’t work so well – now I know I’ve seen pirated CD’s and DVD’s loads of places, but this is a first, a pirated book! Now on to my tour. There are no group tours to be had here – I think most people travel in tour groups anyway, so you just put together your own. So I am collected by a nice car and driven off to the fishing village, not really sure what to expect. I knew that there was a boat involved on the huge lake, Tonle Sap, but that was about all. Siem Reap is a small town, similar to what I expect Thailand was like 30 years ago – no huge buildings, no MacDonald’s or Burger King, slightly shoddy streets, few cars but motorbikes and moto tuk tuks everywhere. No obvious discipline on the roads (although I did spot just the one set of traffic lights), but for all of the chaos it seems to work. But as you drive out toward the lake on the road beside the river, you see more and more of real Cambodia life, away from the tourist hotels. The houses along the river are all built on stilts – near the town they are about 10 foot high, as you get nearer to the lake the stilts are about 20 foot high – in this the dry season they seem such a long way from the ground, but apparently when the wet season starts, they only just keep themselves above the waterline. But looking at the state of some of them, I’m amazed they will even last that long. Eventually the paved road runs out – the road itself disappears in the wet season, but now is just a potholed dust track (and at this point I was glad I had chosen the taxi rather than the Tuk tuk – they looked an even more uncomfortable ride) with simple 1 room rundown structures perching on their bamboo platforms on stilts lining either side. But with people everywhere, going about their day to day lives, the most beautiful looking children playing in the dirt on the edge of the most filthy looking river, it’s hard to imagine how they survive to adulthood – the water was gathered from handpumps and no idea about what served as loos – by the look of it, probably the river. And then to the area where I got my boat. I was wafted (well actually helped) on, a delicate operation and falling into that dark brown water probably wouldn’t have been wise. I then realised I was to be the only occupant of said boat which could hold about 20 people – and the reassuring thing was there was a rather old looking lifejacket proudly placed on each seat – probably not needed, if you fell in, you would probably just float on the rubbish….. As I was getting on the boat, I had an odd feeling that some paparazzi pics were being taken (probably thought it was Angelina again). So off we motored, with me sitting regally in this huge boat just like the Queen. I thought that I had now “done” the fishing village and was off for a gentle little motor to see the sunset on a nice little lake. How wrong can you be – after about 5 mins, this huge expanse of water (with waves) appeared – Lake Tonle Sap – it goes on for miles and there was the village I had actually come to see. A whole community with temples, churches, shops, schools and homes all on the water, attached to the lake bed in most cases by more bamboo stilts. And as we motored along, tiny boats made from single tree trunks would attach themselves and 4 or 5 year old children (not an adult in sight )would jump into my boat to sell me Coke or bananas - so of course I had to buy some – way overpriced at 1$US, but they really looked as if they needed the money. Women in other minute boats rocking violently in our wake with tiny babies and toddlers, offering bananas for sale – this really was life in the raw, and looked so hard. By now we were approaching our shopping opportunity – a platform (one of several) on the edge of the village where you could buy food (hygienically challenged I think), cold drinks, souvenirs etc. They reminded me a little of those pontoons you get out in the ocean on the Great Barrier Reef – although with perhaps a little more character. And I was then proudly shown the crocodiles that they catch – a pen in the water with about 20 of these horrible looking creatures – what, I thought to myself was I doing here – not that keen on boats to start with, but I was getting on and off in crocodile infested waters – and suddenly the crocodile product shop in town made sense! So even more gingerly, I got back on my splendid boat for the journey back to safety, reflecting on what a privileged life we all lead. These people are dependent on the vagaries of the extreme weather, no running water, less fish stocks so tourists have to provide their alternative income, and that makes them into a bit of a human zoo. Back in Siem Reap we are all scoffing good food and knocking back cocktails in Raffles whilst this real poverty is just a few miles away. But all I can say is that from what I’ve seen so far the Cambodians are nothing but welcoming of the tourist dollar, and so far unfailingly nice, polite and friendly. It’s a place you feel happy walking around. So finally back to dry land for the short journey back to town. And I was right, there were “pap” shots being taken of me as I got on the boat. As I was getting into the taxi, I was presented with (5US$ - but you have to reward enterprise and it really made me laugh) a picture of me, and just like the Queen at her Coronation, it was on a rather hideous plate.

A Hollywood epic - Gillyana Jolly in the remake of Lift Raider (15 Feb2008)

Sorry, just couldn’t resist this hotel lift remake of the famous scene of Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider – see vid as all should be revealed!

Charmed by Cambodia (15 Feb 2008)

OK, I know it’s early days, I’ve only been here in Siem Reap, home of the Angkor Wat temples, a few hours, but so far the place is charming. Not a good start, a 3 hour delay with Bangkok Airways (apparently nothing more than a broken radio), and “ welcomed” into the Kingdom by the surliest immigration officer I have yet to meet – even less charming than those at Heathrow…. The flight was all of 35mins but they managed to serve a good snack and hot tea or coffee. And you get to go in the Bangkok Airways lounge at the airport, so the delay wasn’t as bad as it might have been. The flight though, did appear to be full of Americans (they of course were all off to Raffle’s). And a chatty taxi driver who I am sure was just being friendly, but you are never sure, so I invented 3 friends who are waiting for me at the hotel…. The hotel is really nice – and at £30 a night including breakfast, it seems a bit of a bargain, and getting back after dinner, there had even been a turndown service. It’s only a year old, but one of many – on the way in from the airport you could see the huge amounts of new hotel construction. The money’s a bit of a concern, at c. 7500 riels to the pound, I feel like a millionaire, but as I’m not quite used to it, still not sure if I tipped the bellboy 2p or £20! A lovely pool area open till 10pm so I must try and get in an evening swim – or perhaps I mean an evening swim up to the swim up bar… (see pic). Before dinner I had a walk around the local area, after Bangkok, it had the feel of “real Asia” with lots of bikes and scooters and crossing the road is a bit of an issue… The English in the hotel is medium but of course hugely better than my Khmer, good basics but lacking a little in the “nuances”. Two youngish middle aged ladies had just walked through to reception, and a man who was with them was looking for them. The bellboy told him that “the two old women went that way…” more of a literal translation perhaps, but mistakes like that could take them down the charm scale! Tonight I have had a really nice meal at the hotel (so cheap even in the hotel, so I guess it would be even more of a bargain outside) and have been reading the guide books to determine the best sightseeing plan. I will keep you informed.

Bye bye Bangkok (14 Feb 2008)

…. and my lovely hotel room for a while at least, as I have to pass through here again to get that flight back to the UK – but that’s ages away, so don’t need to think of it just yet… I have really enjoyed it here, and as I have done all the temples, floating markets and other sights before, it was good to come here and just discover more of the city itself, without the pressure to fit it all in. So I’ve spent days wandering around – going out of the hotel and pointing myself in a different direction each day, and then going where the road takes me. As a result, I feel I have a much better “handle” on the layout and geography of the city than when I have been here before and rushed around going to all the “must see places”. So I leave Bangkok the day after Valentine’s Day – I resisted the temptation to gatecrash the Valentine’s dinner at the hotel around the pool – sunbeds matched up in pairs and covered in white cloths, hearts and flowers, and your own little table at each one for the buffet – how romantic. As you would expect, I retired to the exec lounge instead for excellent wine and free wifi! Where is the romance in that? So what are my abiding memories of this visit? First is the noise – whenever and wherever you are (even on Floor 31) there is the incessant noise – traffic, police whistles, music, it’s a city with no aural peace even in the confines of Bangkok’s answer to Hyde Park, Lunhi Park. Second is the number of beggars – this against a backdrop of a really thriving economy, so many with real physical disabilities, seemingly every few yards and just yards away from Prada, Gucci, Armani. Thirdly, the wide variety of people on the streets – elegant ladyboys, tiny, elegant, beautiful Thai women, tiny elegant, beautiful Thai women holding hands with not tiny, not elegant, not beautiful Western men (and on Valentine’s Day, this seemed even more wrong – a pastiche of paid for romance). The very old “crone” with a one tooth smile, but the most perfectly manicured red toenails, saffron clad monks buying the latest technology in Pantip Plaza and my favourite – “Duri Service”. I followed a particularly offensive smell – it was a man with a bike festooned with baskets, ringing a bell as if he were a leper warning of his approach. And he very well might be, as he was selling that most disgusting smelling fruit of all, the Durian. But that was yet another thing I resisted –perhaps one day………..

Bags of bags in Bangkok (11 -12 Feb 2008)

The last couple of days have been given over to the temple of shopping. I meant to window shop only, but found myself on a quest for the latest desirable designer handbag, a particular Louis Vuitton. I had seen a few people with it, and in various colours, so knew it must be Louis’s answer to this season’s other must have, the Fendi baguette which has just launched in ten colours. I searched high and low – the Louis Vuitton shop at the Siam centre has nothing like it – god, they’ve sold out already, time to really panic – perhaps I could e mail Harrods and get it delivered… And I know I shouldn’t be looking to get such an extravagant article, but hey ho, I’m worth it as they say in the ads. What to do – I just kept looking. I got a little sidetracked and found a real “tech-fix” place at the Pantip Plaza - 5 air conditioned storeys of every imaginable electronic device you could ever want, or indeed, never want, every computer, computer accessory, tv, vid, camera , cable – you name it, they had it, as well as just the one shop selling fragrance – how bizarre. Everything apart from the Louis bag of course. I was so tempted to buy an Asus like Deryn has and Mum wants, but absolutely no point, my little Vaio I am using does an even better job. But I had to buy something – and ended up with a padded bag for this laptop (a “nod” towards Gucci, but their design, the double “G”, is of course my initials…). Also, my flash drive broke yesterday (how convenient…) so was able to buy a 2G tiny little pink one to match my phone…. Oh dear, dignity, dignity, as a pensioner am sure I should be buying a crimplene one if such things exist. So having somewhat satisfied my tech needs for a while, I progressed to Platinum Plaza, another huge indoor shopping mall, boasting 1300 fashion stalls – surely there must be another official LV stall to buy my bag. But no, just acres of rather small, but very beautiful clothes – that’s always a bit of a problem here in Thailand, finding anything big enough. So having checked, I’m sure, all 1300 stalls I was still disappointed. I crossed the road (just – you certainly take your life in your hands doing that here) to a labyrinth of dark clothing stalls selling everything from accessories to clothes to make up to real human hair to traditional Thai dancing costumes to the less traditional Thai dancing costumes of plumed feathers, skimpy tasselled affairs and other designs probably more Patpong than Paris. But still no joy, that LV bag was nowhere to be found. By now I was hot, disappointed, tired and in need of a drink so decided to head back disconsolately to the Conrad – perhaps I could spot someone there who had one and ask where to go. But suddenly, joy of joys, I spot one, lurking under the counter of a stall on the way back, hidden from view. It was green, not really my colour, but any port in a storm. The stall had lots of designer labels – Chanel, Dior (real of course), but all were far too small for me – so I just braved it out and asked could I have one. I think the girl was so surprised by this request, she just said yes, so here am I, the proud owner of a Louis Vuitton plastic carrier bag (see pic) – am sure the trademark owners would not be pleased… but I will treasure it, and it certainly makes a change from one emblazoned with “Tesco”. After all that shopping stress, a couple of hours by the pool was called for – very civilised – as is usual they set out your bed and give you a bottle of water to keep you going (would have preferred champagne, but there you go), and I spent some time reading and relaxing. See pic of my spot by the rather Grecian looking Jacuzzi section. But the exec lounge was calling – all those lovely canapés and decent wine. It’s really interesting sitting in here, eavesdropping on the conversations – international types talking the state of the alternative energy market and a couple of older, very posh Brits. The energy guy’s view is that the politically correct people who dream up these things have no idea what they’re talking about. Bio fuels create more CO2 issues than they solve. The moral problem is also that corn is food – if it’s used for fuel, the price of corn goes up and that is the real problem as people then can’t eat cheaply – an interesting angle…. Their view was that “in the end it’s all about money…”. But the two older Brits looked and sounded as if they at one time were connected with the British Embassy just up the road, talking about “gels” (as in “girls” not hair stuff) and horses in really loud posh voices. So, all in all, another very interesting and entertaining day.

Bangkok Buzzes (10 Feb 2008)

Wow – Bangkok really buzzes – even though it’s Sunday and not all the little shops are open, there is a real buzz about the place. I realise that I’m back in the northern hemisphere for the first time in over two months, how fast has that gone, but how far away from the peace of the Pampas in Argentina all those weeks ago, but I could do with Ant here for his bargaining skills! The tuk tuks seem to have virtually disappeared – replaced by bright neon yellow or Barbie pink meter taxi cabs, and an army of motor cycle taxis – if I thought a tuk tuk might be a bit of a risk, you can imagine my thoughts on the bike taxis, even though they do seem to have a spare crash helmet for the passenger – great for catching nits is all I can see they are useful for! But the traffic here seems in permanent gridlock, so perhaps a bike is the best route. The good news is that I am back to flashpacking, no sign of a microwave or even a dishwasher in this room – pure luxe all the way at the Conrad Bangkok – my excuse of course is that great hotels are such a bargain here, and I need the Hilton points for a freebie later in the year…. The old diamond card has come up trumps once again – a fabulous room, plush with silks and cushions, flat screen tv’s and i-pod docks, all you would expect. The upgrade puts me on the 31st (executive) floor – and I hate rooms so high up, but like Richard Gere in Pretty Woman, you put up with it ‘cos it’s the “best” place to be. And of course access to the exec lounge is worth its weight in bahts – well, I am a backpacker after all. A huge comp breakfast, missed out the afternoon tea, but true to form, I am writing this whilst drinking a cold Sauvignon Blanc, using the free wifi, munching on dim sum and sushi and looking out as night falls and lights twinkle in downtown Bangkok from the 29th floor, quite a view. Today was about reacquainting myself with the place – and I walked lots which is good. I started the day discovering the Skytrain – a great way to get around, just like the tube but over as opposed to under ground, but on a Sunday morning, even more packed than the Northern Line on a Monday morning, but probably a lot more efficient. The hotel have a shuttle that takes you to the Skytrain station but as I discovered, it’s all of a 5 min walk , and the concierge suggested that the best way to get to Siam Square shopping was a taxi (I got the Skytrain there and walked back….) what a spoiled lot these Conrad guests must be! But I really enjoyed the walk – I had forgotten about the heat, humidity and the smells – mostly exceptionally pleasant, especially the jasmine that is used for the temple offerings and on sale everywhere, that lovely smell of fragrant rice, incense, the smell of satay grilling in the open air with of course the odd waft of drains! Stopped for a cold drink at a café, and they have some fab fans – they have cold steam coming out (see vid) but personally I think all they do is add to the humidity rather than cool you down, but a pleasant change from a patio heater. The people about are of course locals, and huge amounts of tourists – the tourist economy looks very healthy. But there is still the odd big, old Euro man, accompanied by a smaller, younger, more attractive Thai girl – call me old fashioned, but am not convinced these are all true love matches, or even as respectable as mail order…. The shopping is, of course, up to standard. And there was a “Iadyboy” as a consultant on the Stila cosmetics counter in the big dept store…. I have also discovered malls and malls of Louis Vuitton, Prada, Gucci, Armani as well as every other designer you have ever heard of. But am trying not to shop – my bag is getting heavier and heavier, even though I am sure I haven’t bought anything…

Cher Maman, la poetesse (8 Feb 2008)

I am coming to the end of my adventures in Australasia and the South Pacific, so spend the day walking and reflecting on them so far. Of course I loved Oz and NZ, Fiji was a fantastic luxury break, and the lagoon of Auitutaki was probably my fave in the South Pacific. I am glad I came to New Caledonia (apart from anything else, it’s another pin in the map!), but not one of the places I’d rush back to. And I promise you it’s not just ‘cos I had to make my own bed (OK, I know I won’t win “Chambermaid of the Year” but I can do it, see pic). Just appreciate that the view from those patio windows is a fantastic beach and the blue expanses of the South Pacific Ocean, so frankly, the state of the bedmaking isn’t too critical! I guess I’d sum it up as the South of France meets Torquay but with cyclones…. And I realised this evening as I supped my sunset glass of wine in the Café, I have not heard a voice that is not French all week. So the tourist board are not doing a very good job selling this place to the Ozzie’s or New Zealander’s. Apparently a lot of Japanese come here, but they go straight to the mega luxe Isles des Pines, an island some 80kms from here. Although today I did see a bit more of the local culture – a wedding procession went by – a car with the bride and groom, followed by a 4WD playing the loudest rasta tunes you have ever heard, followed by all the wedding cars tooting their horns – not perhaps the Melanesian culture I had come to see, but their local custom nonetheless. But their attitude to someone speaking to them in French has really got to me – what’s not to understand about “un vin blanc”, even the Allo Allo policeman couldn’t have got that wrong, but they still look as if they don’t understand. I’ll stick to the Spaniard’s any day, they at least seem to appreciate your trying their language, even if you get it slightly wrong! But Mum’s view of my French is below in a fab poem she e mailed me today. But even though I won’t rush back here, I never say never, so to New Caledonia I just say “au revoir” (assuming they can understand that……), SE Asia, here I come…..

NONSENSE POEM NO 2 FROM MUM XXX

Ow ees u today my little French Delight

Thank you for your blogs - if I can read them right,

With Bonjours and mai wees decorating my screen

And Google Translator nowhere to be seen!

I bet you stroll around in a little French hat,

And startle the natives who will tell you that,

Can you not realise you're in France when your'e here

Where tourists speak English whilst drinking warm beer

They always look scruffy and don't drink our wine,

Whilst you make it clear you think it's DIVINE

Why aren’t you like that - are you aiming to please?

Outside at our Cafes, ignoring the breeze.

With pain au chocolat and cafe au lait,

Seems like you stay here most of the day,

Speaking our language, looking smart as paint,

You might have an accent but very, very faint!!!

If you're not careful you'll be so much at home,

You won't want to leave - or even Skype phone,

We want you at home - though for you it's a wrench,

And we are keeping you here until you FORGET ALL THAT FRENCH!!!

Caledonian Casino's and Culture (3 - 6 Feb 2008)

I have spent the last few days doing some exploring of the island. I thought at first that it must be a huge offshore gambling place as there appeared to be Casino’s everywhere – until I foolishly realised that that’s the name of their version of Tesco! It’s a very neat, very well manicured place and it looks on the surface (and I have no reason to believe otherwise) that it’s a very prosperous place too. There are lots of greens, parks and open spaces, all beautifully looked after, tidy, clean beaches with showers, benches and picnic tables dotted about. It has a very different feel to the other Pacific Islands – it feels much more European. The other islands seem to keep some of their local culture nearer the surface – all the floral leis, Polynesian music, local costumes, but there is none of that here. Just modern buildings, cars and roads as well as marinas full of very expensive looking yachts. The island itself is very beautiful, with narrow golden beaches around the many inlets, and some rather high, dark mountains up the middle The mountains look very like the Scottish ones - dark and forbidding, but I suppose that's where the "Caledonia" bit comes in - makes sense, I knew it couldn't be because of the beaches! It’s history is very similar to that of the other islands with European colonisation in the 1800’s, starting as a French penal colony and then moving to a more respectable French settlement. And the treatment of the indigenous population managed the same as everywhere else – really badly. But there are no “cultural nights” on offer here, the only place you seem to be able to find anything of that is in the very impressive cultural centre I went around today. It’s a very modernistic group of buildings that looks like metal (see pic) but actually they are made of wood. Inside were pictures, artefacts and videos with the history of the local people and how the island has developed to what it is today, in particular the two World Wars and the infrastructure development as a result of the Americans here in WW2. There was also a “village” - a group of three of the traditional houses that were interesting that you could go and sit in. It has been a really hot and humid day, but inside these really tall thatched huts it was amazingly cool. Nice and interesting as it was, it felt a bit like the culture of the island had all been tidied away neatly into this small area too to match the rest of the place. The island is nice, but somehow feels soulless, more a place to live but not that much of real interest to a visitor. The town is not what I expected – for some reason I think I was expecting to see a miniature Paris in terms of architecture but no – just the normal little shopfronts in a town planned on a grid system. There are a few more local people in the town than there are in the beach area, and the fashions here are also less Parisian. The women wear those rather large, colourful cotton frocks with frills around the neck, sleeves and hem, not flattering, but as they cover a multitude of sins, I may have to invest in one or two! I have also to report that for men at the beach, Speedo’s are de rigueur – regardless of age, size or shape – that, together with the leather look tan (very Euro) is definitely the look to go for…. And the weather has finally settled, the wind really has dropped a lot and it has warmed up in the evening too, so I don’t need a cardi sitting out on the balcony writing this – but the downside of that is that the pesky little South Pacific mozzies have again found their favourite food – moi!

Bonjour, je suis en Nouvelle Caledonie et "Allo, Allo"!... (2 -3 Feb 2008)

….and English is not spoken here so a linguistic challenge for me – I hope some of my French is left in the language part of my brain and hasn’t been filled with my Spanish! My French vocabulary is still there, I can get the words, and I can understand everything but I feel that the accent needs some work – by the look on people’s faces I think my accent is similar to that of the English Army Officer dressed as a French policeman in “Allo, AlIo”! I am probably saying things like “I am pissing down ze back passage to go from ze coffee” instead of “I am going the back way to the café” who knows. But they all, in that French way, smile knowingly and then answer you in English – just to let you know that they know there is no way you can be French – plus ca change! I knew it would be different here, as I went along the walkway to get on the flight, the usual wide vowels of the Aussies were nowhere to be heard, it was all French. When I arrive, I am wafted through immigration with very few formalities as a citizen of the EU – how strange is that when I am only 2 hours from Brisbane! But a bit of a let down, as I was entering the EU, I didn’t get my passport stamped. The currency here (and it seems I will need rather a lot of it ….) is the French Pacific Franc, but some prices are also quoted in Euros. New Caledonia, an island some 300kms long is an autonomous territory of France, but there is a close connection to the EU (assume they get all the subsidies that the French negotiate), but from what I understand it hasn’t had any effect on keeping prices down! I am in a one bed serviced apartment called the Casa Del Sole – one of the cheaper places I found at a bargain £80 per night, but it is No 1 on Tripadvisor. And “serviced” means it’s cleaned before you arrive, no daily room tidy, so I will have to try and remember what housework is to keep it tidy – can’t remember when I last had to make my own bed – how spoilt am I! It’s very nice and big and clean with a kitchen area (including a dishwasher), bedroom, bathroom and a washing machine in a separate little laundry room. The living room “meubles” are a little French though, only missing a Louis Quinze clock. But the best bit is the huge furnished balcony overlooking the sea with big patio doors from both the living area and bedroom, and an amazing panoramic view of Anse Vata beach, considered to be one of the best on the Island. Assuming the wind drops, it will be a great place to spend time. It’s windy here, like Fiji, as I arrive Cyclone Gene is about 500kms due east of here. On the net, it is shown tracking south and east, so is moving away, but the associated winds are affecting a wide area. But some people are enjoying the wind – the windsurfers and kite surfers are very colourful and going the fastest I have ever seen, around a lovely little sandy island just off the coast. Fiji took a direct hit from the cyclone a couple of days ago and there was widespread damage, so am glad I missed that. It is becoming a habit, I arrive and there’s a cyclone off the coast….. but if the pattern is the same as when I was in Fiji, I can hopefully look forward to some better, more settled weather in a couple of days. My Wifi connection here is from a small café where I am enjoying a café au lait and a large pain au raisin (see pic of view from said unofficial hotspot) – I have just found it and connected. No idea who it belongs to – the girls in the café here were very surprised to see me use it – they didn’t know there was a connection, so it obviously doesn’t belong to them… The internet café two doors down charges £6 an hour but they have a different sign on so it’s not theirs. So if I need bailing out when arrested by the cyber police, please help! It does keep dropping but I just keep reconnecting, so not much good for Skype, but hopefully I should be able to load this blog. What I have seen so far, the place certainly has a very French feel – lots of restaurants and cafes, the people generally are stylish and there are lots of small dogs on leads being led by elegant older ladies with lots of subtle jewellery and large sunglasses, and even though it’s the seaside, black is still a big colour…. Big “promenading” going on of an evening on the seafront, and fast driving and air kissing – not that I am into stereotyping you understand…. Carrefour is here of course and the small supermarket I was in yesterday felt like a mini version of the big one in Calais – except that the wine wasn’t such a bargain. But the bread and croissants – I will need to walk miles to work these off. I am in the beach area about 15mins away from the centre of Noumea, the capital and plan to explore that today. Wasn’t worth doing yesterday as it was Sunday and the whole place was closed. So aurevoir for now!

Crikey! Crocs, Koalas and Kangaroos (31 Jan 2008)

My target today was the mountains in the green hinterland behind the Sunshine Coast – mountains and greenery and wilderness a change from the blue and gold seascapes of the last few days. The road out, I discover is named “Steve Irwin Way” after the man of that name, the crocodile hunter who sadly lost his life in 2006. His widow, Teri, and their child are still big news here, so I decide to stop at Australia Zoo (not really a proper zoo, more a collection of local Australian creatures), to find out more. The entrance has a huge poster of Steve Irwin with a speech bubble out of his mouth saying “Crikey!”, his most well known saying. I didn’t realise when watching his croc catching antics on the Discovery Channel that Australia Zoo was his own. Started in the 70’s by his parents, he and his wife had become the guardians of this celebration of Australian wildlife and a key part of their conservation. Most of the animals are native Australian and were the ubiquitous croc, most of which Steve caught himself (the first when he was 9…), dingoes, kangaroos, various snakes, huge tortoises (one of which, Harriet, only died a year ago aged 176), wallabies, Tasmanian devils, camels, cassowaries, birds of prey, wombats, emus and my most favourite, the koalas. I have fallen in love with cuddly little Lucas (see my new pin up in the pic). The vision of the zoo is “conservation through exciting education”, and I furthered my wildlife education by attending the 11.30 show at the “Crocoseum”. A little uncomfortable at times as rather large birds of prey were flying about my ears, but if at any time in the future anyone with me gets bitten by a venomous Ozzie snake, I now know exactly what to do, as well as being able to give you advice on how to avoid getting eaten by a Saltie if ever we find ourselves faced with them in the far north. Not sure though that I will ever learn to “love the crocs” as we were all exhorted to do…. But overriding all of this is the charisma and enduring personality of Steve Irwin himself, which seems to really live on. His pictures and history are everywhere, and there is a section dedicated to his memory where people have left tributes – it was reminiscent of the wall at Ground Zero in New York – flags from different nations with messages, flowers, stuffed animals, paintings and rows of khaki shirts (his uniform) with signatures and messages. So what started as a quick stop off at the zoo, turned into a very enjoyable few hours, made even better by the fantastic choc (not croc….) ice cream on sale in the food court. I then resumed my intended path and drove onwards and upwards into the Glass House Mountains, so called as their shapes reminded Captain Cook of glass manufacturing houses from his native Yorkshire. You can see some of them behind me in the picture. Info for Ant – they are volcanic intrusive plugs of trachyte and rhyolite, exposed as the sandstone has been eroded away. Some steep climbs (in the car I hasten to add, not on my feet!) with spectacular 360 degree views from the lookouts. One in particular was very memorable – I could see miles and miles of the verdant coastal plain below me with dots of white buildings the far distance which were the coastal towns perched on the edge of the Pacific Ocean like toy villages - as always, these views seem like postcards rather than reality, and to me it looked like I had zoomed in on Google Earth!