Wellington, New Zealand (continued)

... Whatever you do, don’t put the blame on you.  Blame it on the RAIN, yeah, yeah.  

After a week of sustained rain showers, the heavens opened up and the glorious sun finally peaked out [queue optimistic music]!  Our enthusiasm propelled us to take a “weekend getaway” to the coast about an hour east of Wellington - Cape Palliser.  On the scenic drive along the coast we journeyed through hairpin turns with mountains on our left and ocean on our right... and of course, a million sheep in between.  

We tried to reach a lighthouse at the end of the road but the unpaved track was so unpleasant, even at 10 mph the van shook so terribly we had to turn back [queue breaking dishes and rattling pans].  Instead, we parked the van and hiked through strange and unstable vertical formations of mud and stone at the Pinnacles Scenic Reserve (yet another location from Lord of the Rings).  

On a completely different note, here are some inside pictures of “Big Green”... a virtual tour of our infamous living quarters: 9 feet in height, 15 feet long, and 6 feet wide.  And we thought San Francisco apartments were tight.

San Francisco... just kidding... Wellington, New Zealand

With the north island weather forecasting rain for the foreseeable future, we opted to head towards a city, Wellington that is.  We required a double take.  Hilly city on the bay complete with cable cars, electric buses and funky cafes?  All we needed was Alcatraz and we could have been home.

Our first day was sunny - best weather of the summer - we were told.  We parked Big Green at the waterfront campervan site near the Queen’s Wharf and enjoyed the weekend watching a college crew competition, jogging around the harbor, and getting back into city life.  Unfortunately the last week we’ve experienced daily howling rain storms and Chicago-style gale force winds.  Our sanity has been maintained via our roaming book stores, lounging around coffee shops, and renting DVD’s.  (Our van has a DVD player but no TV channels.  P.S. Who knew DVD stores were still in business?)  We even decided to buy six sessions at a Crossfit gym - this was partially for our physical health, but perhaps more important for our mental health... so we wouldn’t kill each other... 24 hours x 7 days a week in a van... in frigid downpour... enough said.  Actually, our spirits are surprisingly high - we’re trying to stay warm in our merino wool (it’s amazing!), eat healthy (incredible meat here), and hit the gym to eliminate our cabin fever.  This may be a country of sheep, rugby, and rain but it’s pretty darn near perfect.

Whakapapa Village, New Zealand

Our meandering led us south to Lake Taupo, New Zealand’s largest lake, where we pulled over for a quick lunch break along the water’s edge.

Later that day we reached the Tongariro National Park - a world heritage site comprised of three massive volcanoes.  Travelers and locals alike converged here for a popular 19 km (12 mile) hike known as the Alpine Crossing.  Throwing on our best hiker’s gear (thanks Aunt Margie your hiking boots have successfully travelled around the world!) we boarded a shuttle bus at 7am, which would take us to the trailhead.  After last week’s mountain biking fiasco I was nervous about our unknown hike - especially as a series of warning signs suggested we reconsider.  It also didn’t help that mountaineers in full regalia (helmets, gaiters, crampons, etc.) were descending the volcano in the opposite direction.

Weather conditions were ideal and the blinding morning sun rose over the volcano (you may also know it as “Mt Doom” from the Lord of the Rings).  We proceeded on for a casual climb through volcanic geography of rock craters, steaming vents and colorful lakes.  The scenery of volcanic expanse was significantly contrasted to our previous New Zealand hikes of lush greenery - we imagined the top of the volcano was something similar to the moon.

A highlight was eating our packed lunch at the Emerald Lakes - a series of iridescent green lakes atop the mountain’s peak.


  

The last few miles were, thankfully, downhill.  With our remaining energy and growing aspirations for the 3pm shuttle bus (the next option was an hour later), we ran the last mile along a large stream through wooded ferns to the pickup location (not easy in hiking boots, mind you).  At 2:59pm we clambered onto the departing shuttle as it drove away.

Check out the beautiful girl in my eyeglasses

Rotorua, New Zealand

On our departure from Ragland, we stopped to catch sight of Bridal Veil Falls - a picturesque waterfall that plunged into a calm pool below.  Stunning.


Next we meandered south to Waitomo Caves, a premier attraction for “glow worms” - i.e., hanging larvae with luminescent organs that reside inside underground limestone caves.  Hoping to get our adrenaline pumping, we opted for the venturesome option to discover the glow worms in the pitch-black caves (the alternate option was to walk along a dimly lit path... boring!).  Our day included rappelling into a 100 foot cavern, wedging ourselves through cramped limestone holes, viewing stalactites/stalagmites in the cavernous chamber, tubing along the underwater stream, and rock climbing up the vertical wall out of the cave.  The luminescent underground cave system was somewhat magical and romantic.  We imagined staring up into a starlit night’s sky as we lay in our inner tubes floating downstream.  Finishing the experience soaking wet, our huge smiles radiated... we made a beeline straight for warm showers and hot tomato soup.  What a fabulous day! 

Jumping into “Big Green” (our van) we bounded east to Rotoura, the sulfur rich city of thermal activity -- thankfully, we quickly became acclimatized and it didn’t bother us.  (Sophomoric side note: We joked that the city allowed us full farting potential as we could blame all violations on the sulfur).  We ventured into Wai-O-Tapu park for views of crazy colored boiling pools (green, yellow, and orange), hot springs, and exploding mud pools.  

The following day, we heard the redwood forest on the edge of town was home to some of the best mountain biking so we rented bikes and off we climbed, climbed, climbed.  Ken and the bike salesman selected an intermediate route for our excursion... fast forward three hours later... I was in tears because my legs hurt so bad from straight uphill climbing.  After reaching two summits (did we mentioned we became lost?), we zoomed down the mountain thankful the pain-in-the-ass (literally) ride was over.  Shout out Patty Elliot who loves spin class - you would have rocked it!

And finally, our campervan has grown on us as we mature in our nomadism.  Or should we say, we’re beginning to figure out this whole “yes-we-live-in-a-van” thing: maximizing efficient storage in tight quarters, creating an effective system for cooking meals, and navigating through the winding hills and quaint villages.  One thing we cannot, however, wrap our brains around is... our portable toilet.

Ragland, New Zealand

The rain came down.  And down.  Not hankering to remain in the quickly-becoming-dreary campground, we headed up and around the Coromandel peninsula and then down towards the western seaside town of Ragland.  The sun shone, moods adjusted, and suddenly we were up in spirits and adult-proofing the giant trampoline at the campground.  

We took advantage of the 75 degree weather (yeah, that’s like 24 Celcius) and climbed what could be described as the Hike of Death.  No seriously, we transformed into real mountaineers and loved it - the prime difficulty was the steepness.  After almost two hours of straight climb (we’re guessing but that had to be 100+ floors) we wobbly slid back down.  There were even points that required rappelling over rock cliffs with a steel chain.  The scenic views of the gorge, ocean, and fields of ferns were, however, more than enough reward for our discomfort.


  

Lesson 1: The word “tramping” in Kiwi English means “hiking”... you can see how this could be confusing.

Lesson 2: When hiking in New Zealand, you are advised to wear your hiking boots.  Old tennis shoes with no traction or ankle support are ill equipped for these hills. 

On our return to the campground, we noticed two exhausted 20-year olds attempting to hitch a ride down the gravel road.  They had clearly just completed the same hike (we didn’t look much better).  “Why not?  They look normal,” Ken assessed.  Pulling over to the side of the road, we learned they were Swiss and looking for a lift to their hostel a few miles downhill.  “Ok jump in,” Ken shouted as he opened the back door for our new pilgrims.  Don’t worry Mom and Dad: we won’t pick up anyone who looks sketchy (or as the English say, “dodgy characters”).

Lesson 3: When providing a lift to hitchhikers, ensure they are from Switzerland.

On another note, we’d like to provide our readership with a selected index of words from our expanding lexicon:

Lesson 4: New Words for Americans to Adopt

Cheers! = thanks, see you later, yeah ok, alright

Dodgy = sketchy, questionable, outside normal (think: hitchhikers)

Trainers = tennis shoes (as in, what not to wear tramping up a mountain)

Take away = to go food

Muesli = every nation in the world believes hungry white people love this granola cereal

Pudding = dessert (not vanilla or chocolate gelatin-dairy goodness, but rather anything sweet served after a meal)

Proper = correct or to your liking, as in “proper bed,” “proper sandwich,” or “proper pudding” (that last one is a two-fer for ya)

Kip = nap

Chips = french fries (although we were slightly confused as people interchanged the word “chips” for potato chips - we were always like “you mean fries?”)

Bloody = actually, we don’t like this one.  It is sort of disgusting really and doesn’t mean anything.  Scrap that one.

Now make your own sentence:  We went tramping up a bloody mountain in our trainers with sketchy hitchhikers when all we wanted was a proper kip and then a takeaway lunch of muesli and chips followed by some pudding.  Cheers!

Cathedral Cove, New Zealand

After a transient layover in Singapore, we dreaded the 10+ hour red eye flight to Auckland.  It ended up quite alright and we soon awoke in a slightly jet-lagged state.  The rumor was New Zealand’s airport customs department would be particularly strict, but they allowed us through no-problem with our risky items: dried apricots, macadamia nuts, and hiking boots (apparently a biohazard for their pristine soil).  Our first impression: are we in Seattle?  That, followed by: easy and friendly English-speaking conversations sprinkled with fun new Kiwi words (portable cooler = “chilly bin”); stunning rolling hills (can you say Lord of the Rings?); lack of harassing hawkers/touts; and the welcome realization of returning to the first world!  As we boarded the perfectly mannered bus from the airport through the quaint suburbs, Ken exclaimed, “Are we in the Truman show?”  Our only disappointment was the sticker shock... seriously, $600 for a rain jacket?!?  Yikes, good thing this is the last destination on our journey.  After a brief yet agonizing mourning period, Southeast Asian prices quickly became a fleeting memory.


We spent two days in (unseasonably) warm and sunny Auckland preparing for an overland adventure of unknown itinerary.  Many fellow campers suggested purchasing a campervan (self-contained converted van with a bed inside), which would allow us the leisurely freedom to tour the country at a reasonable price (assuming we could re-sell the van after two months).  However, after shopping around several rental companies, we settled upon renting from a company called Jucy.  This option offered a turn-key experience with 24-hour roadside assistance and no re-selling hassle in low season.

Before departing Auckland we made the rounds purchasing essential items (mobile broadband card, warm clothes, rain gear, kitchen utensils, portable grill, road atlas, and a colossal grocery run).  (Given the cost of eating out is sky high, we will be cooking our meals in the campervan).  Oh, and we splurged on seeing a movie - Girl with the Dragon Tattoo - in the theatre.  The two hour show was surprisingly luxurious as the seats were fully reclining Lazy Boys and attendants served meals and drinks during the show (burgers, salad, ice cream sundae, and wine... yum!)

Our campervan (we’re trying to overlook the obnoxious neon green color) is ideal for two people, although it technically seats five (three in the front and two in the rear) and sleeps four (two double beds in bunk configuration).  The upper bed remains retracted, providing us ample ability to walk around (most other vans we looked at weren’t tall enough for Ken to stand upright).  During they day, the lower queen bed is converted into a kitchen table and chairs.  The kitchen, in the far rear of the van, includes a sink, fridge, and stovetop... it’s only about 12 square feet, but we love it!  Ken quickly mastered left lane driving and with GPS in tow, we set off.

Now, we are only three hours east of Auckland and we are already shocked at the beautiful terrain.  On the Coromandel peninsula (where we are), the fern and pine tree filled hills sprawl in every direction.  Wooly sheep graze in the pastures and worn farming equipment dots the land.  We follow the winding coast and seagulls flock around us (especially when they smell our lunch as we park at way-sides).  In the evenings when we come upon a campground we plug into the electricity and voila: the first night we parked alongside a small bubbling stream and the second night we pulled up facing the cold crashing waves of the South Pacific.  

We feel like true backpackers now in our mobile home and freedom to roam.  And we have begun to understand: not everyone who wanders is lost.

Ubud, Bali, Indonesia

While our extended stay on Gili Air was not in our original itinerary, we were pleased with our decision to linger in one place.  However, after sixteen nights, the time had come to move on.  Our little slice of paradise shrunk into our memories as we sped away on a speedboat to Bali.  We rode through the tropical hillsides to the town of Ubud, a popular city in central Bali.  After the remoteness of Gili Air, Ubud overwhelmed our senses: droves of street signs, Polo stores, honking horns, and shouting tourists.  Back to the real world!

Thankfully, our South African friend we met on Gili arrived in Ubud the previous day and took the welcomed initiative to plan our accommodations, evening entertainment, and daytime cultural activities.  She booked us into a comfortable home stay located in downtown Ubud, which was somehow hidden down a back alley opening up to a gorgeous green rice paddy.  The three of us attended a traditional Balinese dance show - while definitely aimed at the tourist contingent, the high quality show was entertaining and surprisingly not too tacky.  The power and influence of the dancers’ stare was something we had never experienced; the story was told with their eyes.  That, combined with their intricate and sharp hand movements, wowed us (even Ken, who before arriving admittedly wasn’t stoked to attend, agreed).


The following day we toured through the lush rice paddies on a combination cultural and bicycling tour.  Our day began with breakfast overlooking an active volcano and Bali’s largest lake.  Then we stopped at a coffee plantation where we tasted coffee with perhaps the oddest processing method: tamed possums ate coffee cherries (which they couldn’t digest).  Next, they pooped them out, causing some weird fermentation in the beans... and finally the beans were cleaned and roasted.  We felt sympathy for the people who had the job of finding the beans.

Anyways, we proceeded to bike 25 kilometers downhill on local roads, through attractive villages and terraced rice paddies, back to Ubud where we ate a scrumptious buffet lunch.  

At about the fifth kilometer (barely into the ride) black rain clouds began releasing a vicious downpour.  Our guides handed over very attractive ponchos and we continued on our way, eyeing the sky uneasily.  

Unfortunately the downpour turned into a monsoon thunderstorm.  Buckets of rain drenched the lowlands and power lines fell.  We hid out near a temple waiting for the storm to abate, eating cookies and bananas to bide our time.  Four members of our group gave up the excursion, preferring the comfort of the van that followed us.  But five of us (Ken, myself, our friend Carryn, and two others) carried on, determined that the Balinese weather gods would not get the best of us. 

With lighting amongst us and visibility down to two meters, we sang: “Thunderbolts of Lighting Very Very Frighting!”  followed by “I’m Singing in the Rain What a Glorious Feeling I’m Happy Today!” followed by “If You Like Pina Coladas and Getting Caught in the Rain...!”  (That last one was a two-fer because not only were we caught in the rain, but Ken was notorious for ordering “girlie” drinks like pina coladas and banana shakes).

We departed Indonesia with a mixture of joy and contentment.  While we didn’t see much of “Bali proper,” we did get a glimpse in Ubud.  We were more than thrilled to thoroughly experience Gili Air and would highly recommend a visit before it explodes with tourism.  And now... on to meet some Kiwis... New Zealand bound!

Gili Air, Lombok, Indonesia (continued)

A motley crew of characters evolved into a circle of friends for the weeks spent on the languid Gili Air -- everyone dove with the same dive shop so we hung out the majority of days together.  They included: a South African woman, an English couple, a German, and an Australian family with a 19-year old son (Rhys).  Ken, feeling old while trying to relive his younger days, proceeded to ignore the age gap between the young Aussie and himself.  As the new “bro-mance” blossomed, others brought it to Ken’s attention that Rhys was young enough to be his son!  Ken took on the nickname “young dad” and Rhys’ real dad became “old dad.”  

  

Selected lessons from a faraway island:

1. At a lunchtime temperature of 105 degrees Fahrenheit, it is not recommended to “man up” by eating the local curry.  You will transform instantly into a puddle of pure sweat.
2. Do not enter an eating contest with a 19-year old from Perth.  You cannot win.  Instead, learn and routinely use the phrase, “that is f#$&ing bloody awesome mate.”
3. The one fancy restaurant is the only place on the island with real ice cream.  Do not act appalled at the $1.50/scoop price, as they have a priceless monopoly.  While other places claim to have ice cream, it is actually ice shavings mixed with sweetened condensed milk.  
4. The minimart on the island that boasts chocolate sells out instantly... if you happen to be there on delivery day, purchase the entire box... and then eat it longingly in front of your friends.
5. Do not be surprised if a gecko poops or pees on you.  It is common etiquette not to then wipe it on your neighbor’s shoulder... not to mention any names... Carryn.
6. Do not attempt to download your emails unless you possess infinite patience.  You can, however, steal the internet from the before mentioned fancy hotel as you are eating ice cream, refer to #3.
7. Renounce your desire for cleanliness: soap does not lather up in a salt-water shower.  Everyone else has the same issue though, so it does not matter.  Yum, salty.
8. When leaping off a dive boat, do not ask “Are those bubbles in the water coming from turtles?” ...especially after divers have just descended into the water below you. 
9. On an island when giving directions, it is either five minutes to the right or 55 minutes to the left.  Who needs GPS?
10. Start using the metric system as every person in the world gives you a blank stare if you quote the distance in miles.  The same can be said for measuring in pounds.  In fact, if you use Fahrenheit they will simply laugh at you like you are an idiot. 

Hill Heading out for her Daily Yoga

Ken Heading out on his Daily Dive

Gili Air, Lombok, Indonesia

Apologies for not posting lately, we had little to no Internet connectivity for the last few weeks... but we just found the only internet cafe on the island... so here it goes.

After pickup truck, ferry, minibus, and taxi rides we made it back to urban Bangkok - a brief interlude before we set out for the island nation of Indonesia.  The only eventful happening at the Hilton (goodbye to the last of my coveted frequent flier points) was fortunate access to the 31st floor Executive Lounge - not exactly backpacker country.  Pulling out the finest clothes from our rumpled stuff sacks, we rode the elevator to the roof, marveling at the Bangkok skyline as we sipped wine and ate hors d’oeuvres with the Asian business elite and well-to-do.

We hopped a flight to Bali (Indonesia) with a layover in Singapore.  The modern airport had high end shopping, TV lounges, electronics charging stations, and free WIFI... the Singapore amenities were so enticing Ken actually wished our layover was longer!  Arriving into Bali on a tropical rainy night, we mentally set our expectations for rain.  Winding through narrow streets along the Legian beachfront, we reached a small courtyard guesthouse expecting to stay one night (we heard the southern beach was too crowded to enjoy)... we ended up staying three nights and soaking up intense heat by the pool, cheap massages, and $4 dinners.  One hundred degree blistering afternoon sun squashed our fears of wet weather.  Heat wave!!

Being the lonesome wanderers that we’d become, we yearned for a secluded location (ok, I wanted seclusion, Ken wanted scuba diving) so we compromised catching a minibus and speed boat to the nearby island of Gili Air, a series of three tiny islands off the larger Lombok island - about two hours from Bali. 

We couldn’t believe the enchanting island location.  Why was everyone crowding onto Bali with this treasure in its backyard?

There were no paved roads, only a dirt path around the outer edge.  About ten horse drawn carts were for hire for heavy luggage; the horses sported jingle bells around their necks, announcing their presence.  It took about 60 minutes to walk the 3-mile perimeter of the island.

The white sand beaches reached out to crystal turquoise waters with prime snorkeling five meters off shore.  The only place in the world we had seen clearer water was on the Australian Whitsunday Islands, but given its jellyfish infestation, we decided Gili trumped Australia.  We’ve also gushed about our love for Thailand, which while gorgeous, was more about the Thai hospitality and friendly customer service than the unspoiled nature of its beaches.

Gili Air, by contrast, had simple breathtaking beaches which are destined for an onslaught of tourism.  We couldn’t decide if it was off-season or if the island hadn’t been discovered, but the beaches were essentially empty... at most a few hundred people which was negligible -- we had the entire western beach completely to ourselves for sunsets.

Our accommodation was one part tree house, one part outdoor house... on the ground floor was an open-air living room.  Behind the living room a door shielded an outdoor shower and toilet (hidden behind a half-fence, netting, and trees).  Climbing up the latter to the second floor (like you’d climb into an attic), you reached a balcony overlooking the tree tops to the ocean.  The bedroom had a vaulted ceiling.  An oddity though, was that the island didn’t have fresh water, so only salt water flowed from the shower and faucets - hmm... we couldn’t decide if the shower actually cleaned us, but it was so deathly hot that we didn’t really care.

Our typical days went something like this:

Breakfast: eat at our guesthouse restaurant on the beach (scrambled eggs, fruit, and coffee) 

Morning: rotation of scuba diving (Ken), yoga (Hillary) or laying on the beach

Lunch: walk five minutes into the interior of the island to a local food stall (full plate of chicken, squid, vegetables, tempe, and rice for the bargain price of $1/person)

Afternoon: snorkel, read a book, take a nap and/or jog around the island

Dinner: eat at the Zipp Bar next door (grilled tuna kabobs with salad, vegetables and a cocktail or fruit shake = $4/person)

Evening: watch a movie on the iPad and fall asleep to the waves (and crowing roosters and moo’ing cows)

    

Koh Chang, Thailand

After reaching the Thai border by taxi, we passed on foot and Ken displayed his best travel intuition skills as a local attempted to scam us out of $40.  Luckily Ken found us a minibus to the city of Trat instead of an overpriced ride with a tour company.  We arrived at the seaside town as the rain started to fall.  Jumping into the back of a pickup truck, the driver raced down the broken highway to the boat landing.  We had zero minutes to spare as we nearly missed the last ferry to the island of Koh Chang - on the eastern Gulf side.  The boat was filled with screaming boy scouts hitting each other with empty water bottles - seriously, twelve year old boys are another species (and yet the same everywhere in the world).  Arriving in the dark, we hopped another taxi and found our way through the rolling hills to the Paradise Palms Guesthouse on the western shore.  (The taxi was over capacity, so Ken stood hanging out the back on the tailgate).  The bungalows were quite nice, although, gasp! no Internet.  

We spent the next few days exploring the island by scooter - including a broken kickstand spring incident.  As a short term remedy, we used our camera string to hold up the kickstand so it wouldn’t shoot sparks as it drug on the blacktop.  To save a little money, on the latter days we only rented one scooter so we shared the ride (think Dumb and Dumber style).  Then we got a flat tire, but luckily we were only 200 meters from town (walking in the 100 degree heat) where a repair shop sold us a new tire for $3.

The island was one of our favorites as it had plenty of restaurants/stores/amenities but wasn’t overly crowded with partying kids.  For Super Bowl Sunday... err, Super Bowl Monday due to the time difference... we woke up at 6:30am and watched the game live at an Irish bar while eating eggs and bacon and hanging with the other Americans on the island.  We didn’t see any of the TV ads though, as the broadcast was commercial free, except for a few ads for Malaysian football.  

We love this place.  Somehow this country just sucks us in like quick sand... it’s impossible to leave!

Phnom Penh and Sihanoukville, Cambodia

Oh Cambodia, it’s difficult to stay optimistic as a tourist in a country ravaged by corruption, inefficiencies, and severe income disparities.  While the country is relatively peaceful compared to its traumatic history of genocide, civil war and famine, we couldn’t help but compare it to its more successful neighbor (Thailand).  

Hoping for beach time, we traveled south towards the Gulf of Thailand, only to discover an undeveloped destination.  Our first bus broke down, delaying us over four hours - we wrote it off as a fluke.  After spending one night in Phnom Penh (sadly, a sleazy aura of prostitution and disabled beggars) we journeyed on a second bus to the coast.  Open minded, we took the ride in stride as it too was delayed and then broke down.  The scenery over two days included never-ending barren rice paddies, deteriorating shacks built on stilts, spewed garbage, bicyclists overloaded with goods, and wandering cattle on the road.  Arriving to a scruffy and hedonistic beach (with signs clearly not adhered to: Prostitution Prohibited) and an abundance of child beggars, we decided the destination wasn’t our style.

We bought bus tickets to Thailand, only to find out the next morning the bus was actually sold out for several days.  Feeling traveller’s fatigue of broken buses and promises, Ken hired a private taxi to transport us to the Thai border.  The ride was surprisingly pleasant through the rolling jungles of the Cardamom mountains.  On the upshot, we can only hope the combination of tourist dollars and foreign investment will help pull Cambodia from poverty and corruption to one of prosperity and stability.

If you’re looking for an easy read to learn about Cambodia’s tragic history under the Khmer Rouge, try “First They Killed My Father” by Loung Ung -- a true account of a child’s terror written by a female refugee.

Siem Reap, Cambodia

We flew from Vientiane to Siem Reap (with a random layover in southern Laos that the government-run carrier failed to tell us when we purchased the tickets), where twelve uniformed Cambodians in a semi-circle greeted us, who then manually passed our passports along the human chain as each inspected our pages.  

Arriving into Siem Reap town, we discovered the ATMs only distributed U.S. dollars... only to find out later that stores gave us change in Cambodian riel but they did not want to accept it as payment (they wanted dollars).  Siem Reap town was definitely a tourist bubble, our first sign of the traveller’s ghetto was the Swenson’s ice cream store in the air conditioned mall three blocks from our guesthouse. Was this really Cambodia?   

Our first night we had too much self indulgence - a bar served our favorite drink (Moscow Mule, shout out to the Smutny’s) in bucket form (equivalent to four servings in a plastic bucket with 6+ straws)... lethal.  We later learned that locals buy similar plastic buckets for children’s toilets and thus think the tourists are totally crazy drinking from them.  Upon further review, we completely agreed with them.  After the cool Laos mountains we started experiencing Cambodian heatstroke, so Shelley found us a pool / fitness center for the bargain price of $5 per day... score!... a much needed escape from the searing heat.

The national treasure in western Cambodia is Angkor Wat - the largest religious structure in the world.  The fortified complex is actually a series of temples and royal residencies built between 900-1200.  Constructed of sandstone, the stone carvings decorating the walls depicted various historical battles and religious tales.

We hired a guide for two days of touring, a definite advantage for both historical context and ease of travel.  We laughed at every bathroom break - our guide joked of the “toilet temple, most visited temple in Angkor Wat”.  On our drive we pulled over to learn how local people produce palm sugar... yum!  The liquid dripped from the trees, followed by boiling and then stirring until the mixture hardened and was served in hockey-puck sized servings.  Talk about sugar overload.

Thousands of tourists packed the temples, each vying for the perfect photo opportunity -  we had a bout of tour bus overload.  The Chinese and Korean groups were a riot though, with their matching lanyards, yellow baseball caps and determination to “visit every temple on their itinerary” regardless of the grueling heat or exhausting stair-master climbing days.

After about ten temples, they started to look the same and feel a bit repetitive.  But the one thing that is always gratifying is visiting local children, so we arranged to tour a “floating village” - an impoverished rural community about a one hour drive from Siem Reap.  Fishermen built the village houses on stilts in the middle of Tonle Sap, the largest freshwater lake in Southeast Asia.  During dry season the lake recedes (and actually flows backwards into the Mekong River) and in wet season the village homes can only be accessed by boat (as the snow from the Himalayas floods the area).  Our boat driver, aged 15 (who looked about ten) cheerfully struggled with the boat and then played a grueling game of bumper boats (sans bumpers) along the canal leading to the lake.  We sat silently, wide-eyed, fearing the tiny boat was certain to sink.  

Before we reached the village, we purchased 40 pairs of children’s flip flops (a request a teacher had made previously that the kids desperately needed).  The students were thrilled and started screaming when they saw the footwear we brought them.  The reward was seeing each strut home with a smile from ear to ear after school in their new Superman or Hello Kitty flip flops.  Such a positive experience - another trip highlight!