Browsing Tag

Cambodia

Fancy-schmancy amenities on a backpacker budget

April 17, 2012

I read this article about the world’s most outrageous hotel amenities. They include all kinds of super-posh services that cater to one’s every whim and desire. Like a tanning butler. A fragrance sommelier. A soap concierge — you know, for all those moments when you really want to get clean, but you also need options.

It got me to thinking about my round-the-world trip. I didn’t get any of that fancy stuff! Nobody coddled me, wiped me or sprayed anything on me. At least, not on purpose. But that doesn’t mean my trip was amenity-free either.

None of these things included a sommelier, concierge or butler, but they were amenities all the same:

The Adventure Brew Hostel in La Paz, Bolivia.

Price pre night: $7

Amenities: CARBS! Microbrewed beers, a pancake buffet.

 

After a month of downing watery Bolivian brew, a free beer with actual flavor seemed like the most novel thing ever. And Saya beer is brewed on site by good people who know what they’re doing.

So what if the hostel showers were tepid and the beds were hard? I drank beer — REAL BEER — all night long. And in the morning, there was a free, all-you-can-eat pancake buffet waiting to sop up my hangover.

***

Ecolodge Sol y Luna in Coroico, Bolivia

Price per night: $14

Amenity: Hot tub. But it’s not what you think.

 

Backpacking is dirty business. Filthy, actually. One time in Bolivia I found a twig stuck to the back of my knee, and I had no idea how long it had been there. So when my friend and I saw an advertisement for Sol y Luna, it only took two little words to convince us to stray from our planned itinerary: Hot. Tub.

We traveled many, many hours out of our way. When we arrived, we discovered that the ecolodge had a very different idea of hot tub than what we imagined. It was a stone tub, situated outside in the garden. And it was filled by hand, one kettle of boiling water at a time.

But you know what? It was perfectly lovely. It would have been great anyway, but it was especially memorable since I hadn’t felt hot water on my skin in almost two months. The dirt floated away, the heat turned my bones into butter and I was clean for the first time in ages.

***

Hostel Estoril in Buenos Aires, Argentina

Price per night: $15

Amenities: Rooftop bar, free walking tours of the city, social events at night.

 

I made friends, I socialized, I felt safe. And I don’t know if there’s a more beautiful spot in Buenos Aires than this rooftop bar.

***

Red Chilli Hideaway in Kampala, Uganda.

Price per night: $6

Amenity: A pig as big as a sofa.

 

Why did they have a pig as big as a sofa? I have no idea.

Why did I find a three-legged cat on my pillow every night? I can’t answer that either.

***

Bodhi Villa in Kampot, Cambodia

Price per night: $4

Amenities: Movies, chill room, floating bar, bioluminescent plankton, illicit activity.

 

Bodhi Villa almost feels like something I conjured up in a fever dream. There were beaches, crabs, rope swings and Billie Holiday. A sprawling bar opened into a river dock. The scenery was slightly too bright and sharp and unreal, like looking through the wrong lens at the optometrist’s office. At some point, a chubby Cambodian man named James Brown put me on the back of his yellow Vespa and drove me through acres of pepper plantations.

Days were drowsy and often spent in the “chill room,” but the nights exploded with raucous live music. A group of strangers became my closest friends in the world. We drank together. We sang loudly and off-tune. We jumped off the dock and marveled over the neon clouds of bioluminescent plankton that swirled around our limbs.

I was there for days? Weeks? Whatever it was, it was much longer than expected. One morning I woke up and realized I might end up at Bodhi forever if I didn’t get out. I immediately booked a bus bound for Ho Chi Minh City, about 10-12 hours away.

Before I departed, a new friend handed me a sandwich and a joint the size of a lipstick tube.

I politely declined, “Oh, thanks, but I don’t think I want to bring any drugs across borders today.”

“What? You got big plans for the bus?” he said. “Just take it and remember Bodhi … If you can.”

***

Ringo’s Foyer in Malacca, Malaysia

Price per night: $4

Amenity: Bike tour of Malacca.

 

Almost every night, the owner of this hostel takes all his guests on a bike tour of beautiful Malacca.

It became one of my favorite memories of Malaysia. We carried bikes down skinny stairwells. The hostel owner strapped a radio to his handlebars and blasted Lady Gaga from the tinny speakers. And then we pedaled off into the night, through downtown, down ribbons of waterfront, all the way to a local restaurant that didn’t have a name or a real address. The excursion forged a camaraderie between all of us guests, and I saw things I wouldn’t have found otherwise.

***

Lazy Bird Guesthouse in Incheon, South Korea

Price per night: $19

Amenity: Love.

 

I arrived in Seoul around midnight. I was too tired to travel an hour all the way into the city, so I booked a night at a guesthouse that is located close to the airport. Everything about this place was marvelous. The owner’s husband, Jackie, picked me up at the airport. My bed was ridiculously comfortable. The shower was hot and strong. The wifi was fast. The coffee was brewed first thing in the morning. There were games, DVDs, a Wii, even traditional Korean costumes for dressing up. And I am not exaggerating when I say this was the cleanest place I’ve ever stayed. It was SPOTLESS.

The hospitality went above and beyond what I expect at a hostel/guesthouse. The owner, Liz, and I had long conversations about our travels and our favorite places around the world. We exchanged e-mail addresses. They took my photo for the guest wall. And then Liz and Jackie practically had to kick me out.

“We can drop you off the train station …”

“Thanks. Maybe in an hour or so.”

After some time passed, they tried again.

“Don’t you want to get into the city …?”

“Uh, yeah. Maybe later.”

Finally, they said I should probably go unless I was going to stay for another night. It actually made me ache to leave. The place felt just like home — only a nicer, cleaner version of it.

A few days later, I received a follow-up e-mail from Liz. She wanted to see how my travels were going, make sure I was safe and see if I needed anything. “Yes!” I was tempted to respond. “I want to pack you up and and take you with me!”

Out with a bang in Cambodia

May 20, 2011

My friend Angie and I had just finished a visit to the Killing Fields in Phnom Penh — acres of rural property where Cambodian people were slaughtered and tossed into mass graves by the Khmer Rouge communist regime.

Some people were beheaded. Some were bludgeoned to death with bamboo sticks. Some were buried alive, tossed into pits and covered with DDT until they perished.

It’s a miserable place, swamped by sadness and cluttered with ghosts.

Angie and I paid our respects to the many lives that were extinguished. We left quiet. We left reverent.

It was unusual timing for such a visit. Osama bin Laden had been killed the previous evening, and I was waging a nonstop, complicated moral war in my head. “Does anyone deserve a violent death? What if the person is really, really evil? Who decides what is evil? Is assassination ever justified? Does this make the world safer? What motivates someone to do horrific things?”

Basically, I was in a confused, plaintive headspace.

As my friend and I climbed into the tuk-tuk we hired, just outside the gates of the Killing Fields, our driver pushed a laminated sheet of photos toward us. It was pictures of people happily shooting automatic weapons.

“You want to shoot? You want guns?” he said.

“Uh, no.” We both shook our heads.

“No guns?”

“No. Definitely no.”

Maybe the other people who visit this memorial want to vent their frustration with the world. Maybe the other tourists are gun-happy. Maybe it’s just a matter of proximity — after all, the shooting range is nearby.

But firing off machine guns was the very last thing I wanted to do.

It’s definitely a highlight for some travelers in Phnom Penh. I talked to backpackers who were absolutely itching to get their hands on some combat shotguns. I even met a few people who made a detour to Cambodia specifically for the purpose of firing off Uzis and M-16s.

I didn’t think it was a big deal. I’ve rented automatic weapons before in Las Vegas (during a Valentine’s Day getaway with my husband! awww!), and I don’t like guns much anyway. But the firearms probably prove irresistible for tourists who have no access to AK-47s in their own countries.

That said, the shooting ranges in Southeast Asia go far beyond anything I’ve seen before. In Phnom Penh, they don’t only offer guns — the menu also includes hand grenades, single-shot M79 grenade launchers and shoulder-fired B40 rocket-propelled grenades.

Whoa.

To be clear, my friend and I didn’t go to this place. But I talked to dozens of backpackers who returned either raving or ranting about their experiences. The things they’ve told me are so crazy, I don’t know what to believe.

The range has fixed per-bullet prices for the machine guns. Grenades cost between $100-200, depending on your weapon of choice.

If you’re bored with shooting at cardboard, tin cans and rusty cars, live animals make for more lively targets. I’m told chickens, geese, goats, water buffalo and cows have all been slaughtered by beer-guzzling, gun-wielding travelers. Technically, this has been discouraged by the government, but it still happens. For the right price, of course.

I also talked to one guy who said he scraped the bottom of his savings account to buy a $100 grenade and a live cow. Well, he missed the shot — and ended up with a souvenir cow to take home. (He did buy it, after all.) He ended up selling the cow back to the shooting range for half the price he originally paid.

The most disturbing rumors involve people — living, breathing targets who cost a cool $10,000. Allegedly the prisoners offer themselves up to be killed because their families receive a cut of the money. For desperate prisoners facing life sentences with no other means to support their loved ones, this is one last sacrifice they can make.

It’s so outlandish, I can’t believe people could pay to shoot other people. That couldn’t possibly happen, right? It has to be a stupid backpacker tall tale.

Then again, there are a lot of horrific things I can’t wrap my head around. And those were true.

 

Can I get a wat wat?

May 14, 2011

As a writer, there’s nothing more humbling than Cambodia’s Angkor Wat and the complex of surrounding temples.

A million feet have already walked these stoney paths, and a million mouths have uttered the only thing that really needs to be said: Wow.

The complex of wats is massive. It’s magical. It’s striking. It’s stirring.

It’s … wow.

Words actually fail me.

 

Border patrol

May 10, 2011

 

The overland border between Thailand and Cambodia is legendary among travelers. Not because of the landmines that still line the region. Not because of the deadly border conflict that has flared up over disputed territory. But because the scams here are as plentiful as noodles.

I had read all the blogs and horror stories. I knew what I was supposed to do:

1. Take the bus from Bangkok to Aranyaprathet, the Thai border town.

2. At the bus stop, get a taxi or tuk-tuk to the border.

3. Go through immigration.

4. Take a taxi or bus to Siem Reap.

Sounds simple enough, right? Wrong. At the “Scambodia” border crossing, everything is not what it seems.

My friend and I boarded a nice, air-conditioned bus departing from Bangkok. After about an hour, the bus stopped. We were shepherded onto another, far crappier vehicle.

The bus dropped us off several kilometers from the border, forcing us into hiring a tuk-tuk. Instead of immigration, he brought us to a diner. “This is where you fill out papers,” he said. We shook our heads no and refused to get out of the vehicle.

I said we want to go to the border. No more stops. Just the border.

The driver brought us to a Cambodian embassy building. It didn’t feel right — I’ve never been to a border crossing yet where you get the visa for the next country before exiting the first country — but the driver insisted this was the way. The building looked official, with a tall fence, guard post and the big gold seal of Cambodia.

Inside two men were playing chess.

They said a visa would cost $40. I pointed out that the visa is actually $20. One man shrugged and said, “Well, you’ll have to go to the border for THAT visa.” I wanted to scream, “So where the eff am I?”

He never looked up from the chessboard.

Back inside the tuk-tuk, the driver finally took my friend and I to the border. There was one line. Then another line. One form. Then another form. One stamp. Then another stamp.

We made it to Cambodia!

But the fun didn’t stop there. All tourists are taken by the government-run bus to a travel depot where the buses and taxis are double the price. This is really the only option for transportation, other than hitching a ride in a dusty pickup on a long, bone-jarring road.

When my friend and I arrived at 3 p.m., all the buses were conveniently gone for the day. Only expensive taxis remained, and we were forced into paying $15 each for a ride to Siem Reap.

In the big scheme of things, we didn’t part with too much money. It’s just exhausting and annoying to have so many people rip you off over and over again. Experiences like this make me grumpy, combative and distrustful — the exact opposite of the kind of traveler I try to be. It’s even more infuriating when the government(s) know this is happening and don’t do anything to stop it.

The biggest loss was our time. All of this sucked 12 hours out of our day, when it should have taken just six or seven.

Maybe this is how the border war started.

 

Float on

May 7, 2011

When I die and the undertaker cracks me open, I’m pretty sure sand will spill out. I’m a desert girl. My bones are made of cactus and my heart throws tumbleweeds with every beat.

So tooling around the floating villages of Lake Tonle Sap in Cambodia was a glimpse into an unfathomable life.

Here the landscape ebbs and flows, dictated by an ever-changing tide.

Not only is this the largest lake in Southeast Asia, it’s also a UNESCO-recognized biosphere.

Small villages are perched on stilts around the lake. There are floating stations for diesel, markets for essential sundries, even places of worship.

All floating, all perpetually drifting.

Twice a year, their entire world shifts as the Tonle Sap changes direction. During the dry season, about November to May, the lake drains into the Mekong River. When the rains flow again, starting in June, Tonle Sap swells up once again.