The Kindness of a Stranger

It was unusual that we were sound asleep at 9:00 AM when the front desk rang our room.  Mr. Triet was downstairs. Of all the rotten luck to have finally found a hotel that was quiet in the morning when we set an early appointment. Phyl & I threw on clothes and went downstairs. We nailed down a few details and agreed to the tour. Unlike all other tours where we paid ½ at the start and ½ at the completion of the tour, Mr. Triet wanted ½ immediately. We did not have that much money as we had intended to stop at an ATM during the day, so I had to go out, into the blinding sunlight without my sunglasses, in search of an ATM. The first 2 ATMs would not give me money. I then had to walk 10 blocks to get the money, and by the time I returned to the hotel, was sweating.  Mr. Triet was paid the requisite ½ and we returned to our room.

P- Baby, I can see by that look on your face that you are already pissed off.

G- I hate the damn morning to begin with and to have to jump out of bed and then run around town, sweating, in search of an ATM totally pisses me off!!!

P- I know, I know, and even without that look on your face I knew that you were very unhappy. You lie back in bed and I'll go get us some coffee.

G- You think that ass wipe could have waited until this afternoon or tomorrow morning for the money? I tried to make it abundantly clear that we were asleep when he called and that I didn't want to run around town just yet.

P- I think he could have waited, but he didn't think so. I'll go get the coffee and you try to get yourself into a better frame of mind.

G- Whah! Ok. Thank you.

P- Don't whine.

Several hours later we left our room in search of lunch and a tailor. The washrag that we had been using for the past several months would no longer come clean, so we had decided to have our hand towel cut in half. The first seamstress we came to, her sewing machine in the middle of the sidewalk outside of a clothing store, waved us off with utter disinterest. We entered a shop a few doors down and approached a woman sewing a pair of pants. She did not speak any English, so our entire conversation took place via pantomime.............. I put the towel on her table, pointed to her, then made scissor cutting motions, with my fingers, across the middle of the towel. Phyl then ran her fingers across the edge and pointed to her sewing machine. She smiled and nodded, took the towel, and pointed to 2 chairs.

G- Yes! That wasn't too difficult.

P- Good idea to cut this towel that we never use.

G- Now we'll have a washrag and a cloth to wipe sweat.

P- I wonder how much she's going to charge us.

G- I'm sure it won't be much.

P- Do you see the legs behind the counter? I just noticed them.

G- That must be the husband.

P- He's just sleeping on the floor. I'm sure that's comfortable.

G- I guess he had nothing to connect his hammock to and they sit on the floor so much I guess it's no big deal to take a nap there.

P- I know you think I can fall asleep anywhere, but even I couldn't sleep on the hard, dirty floor.

She cut the towel in half, then started to change the thread to a color that matched, but we waived at her and indicated that whatever color thread she had was fine. She sewed the 2 cuts ends in only a few minutes. I pulled out my wallet to indicate payment and she waived me off.

Us – (bowing slightly) Gam-on. (thank you)

We ate lunch, strolled along the river, sat for a long time watching ships pass, children swim, and sellers set up their shops for the night market, then returned to the hotel to relax in the a/c. 

P- OMG!  Just when you think you've seen it all!!!! A sofa being transported on a motorcycle!!!

G- How did they strap it securely enough?  I know it's not a big one, but that is amazing!

P- These people can transport anything on a motorcycle.

G- There goes an armoir type cabinet.

P- It must be moving day for someone.  I guess he called all of his friends to move his entire apartment of stuff on motorcycles.

G- Can you imagine that at home?  We have to rent a truck or borrow one from a friend.  It's a major production.  If the cops caught you with a sofa on your motorcycle, you'd probably be arrested. Here, it's no big deal.  I like the idea of it.  The simplicity.

P- Definitely!  We've made everything so complicated in the U.S.

Around 6:30 we went back to the river for a light dinner and apple pie with vanilla ice cream that we had seen on the menu at the restaurant where we ate lunch.  Neither of us love apple pie, but we had the idea put into our heads by a friend who is currently in India and wrote, on Facebook, about eating apple pie.  The power of suggestion!  Unfortunately, when we arrived, a tour group had taken over the restaurant and we would have had to wait for an hour and a half, so we didn't get our pie.

Eco Nightmare

The only unfortunate thing about Can Tho is that in order to get to the river, we had to walk past a woman selling durian (smells like ass). On one occasion we walked through a park on the river to avoid the durian seller, only to see a rat run across the path and freaking Phyllis out. It was much smaller than the rats one might see along the Mississippi River, but she hates all rats equally. It must be stated that as a child, I had a very sweet, domesticated, pet rat. Yes, a rat. Not a hamster or a mouse, a rat; I liked him very much!! Thus, I am not predisposed to hating rats and think there is actually no difference between squirrels, which most people find cute, or hamsters or chipmunks or rats.

On the first morning Phyllis went in search of coffee. Just when we want a Starbucks, there is none to be found; maybe because they're not allowed in Vietnam. I insisted that she would not find coffee 'to go', but after only 20 minutes, she returned triumphant.

P- I stopped in one place that appeared to be a type of coffee/breakfast shop, but one spoke English. I did everything I could to indicate that I wanted a cup of coffee..................I held out my hand like a saucer, and held my fingers like I was holding a coffee cup, then I pretended to drink and said “coffee”, but the waitress just stared at me like I had 3 eyes, and some of the customers laughed. I gave up and went back onto the street. I walked passed a market and was watching a woman cut the heads off of live, little fish, with a scissors, when I saw a coffee cart. I pointed, held up 2 fingers and watched as she poured a little condensed milk into a plastic cup, add a little thick, black coffee, then hot water. It cost only 18,000 for 2 (about 95 cents).

G- I am so proud of you!! Thank you so much for bringing me coffee.

P- And it is French dripped and taste delicious!

We lounged, drank our coffee, then walked to, and along the river. We ate lunch at Mekong Cafe, walked to a statue of Uncle Ho (Ho Chi Minh, ruler of Vietnam after the war), sat on a bench and watched the river traffic and pedestrians go past, and drank a few beers at a 2nd story cafe where the owner found us to be quite amusing and let us take pictures in her conical hat. We sat for several hours at her cafe watching several boats being loaded with cargo, presumably to be taken up or down the river.

G- This is really amazing. Everything is done by hand.

P- Well the cargo boats aren't very big and not the kind that could be loaded with a crane.

G- What crane? There are no cranes around here. Maybe further down the river where the real ships are loaded.

P- I love the way that everything is brought down the ramp on a motorcycle or on someone's back.

G- Look at the shiny new bikes being handed up to the roof of the boats.

P- Yes, and small refrigerators, tires, stacks of plastic chairs and tables.......

G- You mean fine dining furniture?

P- Fine dining if you're a kindergartener. Look at that guy carrying 8 cases of beer on his back! I'm enjoying this breeze too.

G- Yes, this is great! I like just sitting here and watching a slice of everyday life. It really is smarter to carry that beer on his back rather than trying to hold it in front of himself. It puts the weight on his legs rather than his back.

P- They sure do know how to carry things.

We returned to our hotel to cool off and take a nap, then went back to the river for dinner. The riverfront had been transformed with “restaurants” (food being cooked on mobile grills, under canopies, with plastic (adult sized) tables and chairs along the railing). We ordered grilled boar meat and a hot pot. The grill was actually brought to our table and sat atop a typical burner, a terracotta pot filled with hot charcoals. The meat had been marinated and was brought on a plate with okra. Of course Phyl did the grilling. The boar meat was amazingly tender and we really loved the okra which we had never before eaten grilled. We were extremely careful not to bump the plastic table leg as neither of us wanted to end up with hot coals in our laps.

The hot pot, kind've like a Vietnamese fondue, had just arrived and we had just begun to add the vegetables, when we watched a woman clearing the table next to us. We sat completely dumbfounded, our mouths agape, as we watched her pick the trash off the table and THROW IT OVER THE RAILING INTO THE RIVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The left over food items were placed into one bowl and carried back to the 'kitchen'.



P- You’ve got to be shittin' me!!!!

G- I know that I did not just watch that woman throw all of the garbage into the river. No wonder the rivers are full of trash.

P- I wasn't finding Vietnam to have as much trash along the roads and streets as the other countries we visited. That must be why. They just throw the trash into the river to be carried out to the China Sea.

A western man and woman sat at another table watching our faces and our reactions. He laughed when he caught my eye. I shook my head, mouth still hanging open.

Michael – We'll just let the river carry away our garbage.

P – It's unbelievable!!

G- No problem, it'll just end up in that big Pacific garbage patch. I'm really confused by this complete lack of regard for their environment. Why did she throw the trash in the river but carry away the biodegradable food items that actually could have been thrown into the river?

Michel – They don't get it. In the states she would be strung up by all of the people sitting around us, but here, no one cares. I've never learned to understand the thinking.

Edit – He lived in China for 16 years so he's use to it.

P- It's terrible.

G- I'm mortified.


We finished eating our dinner and then joined the couple, Michael & Edit for a drink. She is Hungarian & Michael is American, but they live in Paris and are trying to move to Shanghai, China. Michael reminded us of Michelle because he hadn't gotten his run in that morning and was going for a run after dinner. We enjoyed speaking to them, were, of course, envious that they lived in Paris, and hope to visit them if we pass through Paris on our sweep of Europe at the end of our trip.

Word must have been sent out that new people had checked in because as we entered our hotel we were greeted by Mr. Triet, a tour operator offering Mekong Delta tours. We very much wanted to take a Mekong River tour, but we hate 'tours', the being herded on and off buses and told when to start, when to eat, what to see, and when to use the bathroom. We told Mr. Triet what we wanted to do and he pulled out his map and offered us a private tour, with an English speaking guide, in a long boat. The price was $115.00 per person for a 2 day tour with an overnight stay at a homestay. We told him that we had to discuss it and would let him know the next morning. He agreed to meet us at 9:00 AM in the lobby.

Back in our room, Phyl took the first bath she had taken since Lombok, Indonesia, several months ago.
Of course there was still no shower curtain, so I sat in the tub, holding the sprayer over my head, happy not to be getting the bathroom floor wet. Tiny pleasures!

Drying Rice on the Road

Our bus to Can Tho was scheduled to leave at 12:30 so we arrived at the cafe at 11:30 so we could get something to eat. There wasn't much on the menu, so we ordered fried rice which turned out to be quite different than the norm and was really stir fried vegetables over white rice. We enjoyed it more than we expected. Unfortunately, the bus was over an hour late, so we sat until 1:30 chatting with Julie & Danny, 2 Brits who are also traveling for a year.


The ride to Can Tho took 6 hours with a stop at some midpoint town to drop off passengers. Vietnam's countryside was already different from Cambodia's because it was green with rice growing in the fields surrounding the road. This was likely due to the fact that we were in the Mekong Delta, with an abundance of water, eliminating the dependence on rainfall. Also, the rice was being harvested and lined the road, left to dry in the sun.

P- Why are these people allowed to dry their rice on the road?

G- I don't know. Maybe because they just do whatever they want.

P- Well it shouldn't be allowed. They build a 2 lane road for vehicles, and because they're putting their rice all over the road, the traffic has to keep stopping and maneuvering around the rice.

G- I don't think they give a damn how you feel about it.

P- You'd think non-rice growing tax payers would be pissed that they have to keep stopping and going around these peoples' rice.

G- Um, it doesn't work like that here. They don't think that way. If it's rice harvesting/drying time, the rice has to be dried. It's just a fact of life. Not something they get pissed about.

P- Well I'm tired of having to stop.  These bus rides are long enough without having to stop every 30 seconds.

G- (Just then our bus driver drove right over a long expanse of drying rice.) Happy now?

P- Yes.

The roads and towns through Vietnam were definitely more built up than in Cambodia, and Vietnam was clearly more industrialized, with larger cities. The ride was pleasant and beautiful and we chatted with a girl, Anna, from Montreal, Canada. We even passed through a town that was having a parade!  Upon arrival in Can Tho, we were deposited in front of a hotel. I waited with the luggage while Phyl & Anna walked around looking for hotel rooms. Anna found a place, but we were having less luck. Finally, after 1 hour of searching, we happened across a great place for $15.00/night, only 2 blocks from the river.

G- This place is great! You did an excellent job!

P- I told them I'd take it the minute she opened the door. Go look in the bathroom.

G- OMG! A bathtub!!! We can bathe or shower without getting the whole bathroom wet.

P- I know! I'm very excited.

The room was clearly newly renovated with pale yellow walls, a flat screen TV mounted to the wall opposite the bed, a mini fridge, and a large bathroom. The piece de resistance, not 1 but 2 rolls of toilet paper!!!!!!!!!! Our toilet paper would not be rationed at this hotel. The final thing that made our love complete was the wifi router mounted to the wall just outside of our door. We were ecstatic!

We intended to stay only 1 day, but stayed 2 because we so enjoyed the room and the riverfront.

Sad Farewell to Cambodia

It was with heavy hearts that we packed and prepared to leave Cambodia. We truly loved our time there and would have stayed longer but for the fact that our visas expired the next day. Sof picked us up at 10:00 AM to driver us the 1.5 hours to the newly opened Vietnamese border crossing at Na Tien.

P- I feel very sad to be leaving Cambodia.

G- Me too. The way this country and its people have touched us is inexplicable. I don't think I could ever put it into words, but I feel my soul has been changed by my time here.

P- I do too! I am very glad we got our tattoos here. Cambodia will always be with us.

G- I agree, and we have to come back here again. Maybe when Connor finishes medical school he'll want to volunteer in a clinic here and we could join him.

P- He would love it here and he loves working with kids. These kids would steal his heart.

G- Remind me to tell him that. Now I see why Angelina adopted a Cambodian child.

P- Isn't the first child she adopted Cambodian.

G- I think so, after she was here filming Tomb Raider. Maybe we can return and teach English or work in an orphanage.

P- I'd like that.

We spent our last little bit of time in Cambodia waiving to kids, watching people go about their daily lives, and of course, getting coated in red dust. About a mile from the border we were swarmed by motorcycles, driven by men yelling to us in Vietnamese.

P- What the hell are they saying?

G- I have no idea, but I think we're already in a tuk-tuk. Ignore them and they'll go away.

P- I think they intend to follow us to the border.

Sof drove us to the end of the road, literally, the end of Cambodia, and stopped at the cross bar. As we attempted to unload our bags and tell Sof good-bye, the motorcycle drivers yapped endlessly about driving us to Na Tien. They wanted $5.00 each to which we scoffed. We had paid Sof $15.00 to drive us for an hour and a half and they wanted $5.00 to drive us for 10 minutes. Sof intervened and told them it was too much but they would not relent. We declined their offers and walked to the wooden hut next to the cross bar where a Cambodian agent checked our passports and directed us across the street to a window. There our Cambodian visas were removed and our passports were stamped with the exit date.

The motorcycle drivers were still there when we turned around, and to our surprise, so was Sof. He smiled at us and again negotiated with the the motorcycle drivers until they agreed on $5.00 for both of us. We were touched that he stayed to help us and thanked him profusely, waiving as we rode the approximate 100 yards, of no man's land, to the Vietnamese border. Whereas our crossing from Thailand into Cambodia was long, hot, and arduous, our crossing into Vietnam was as simple as walking through a building. The motorcyclists dropped us off on one side of the building and drove, with our packs, to the other side.

We entered, completed the health questionnaire and paid our $1.00/each to have the agent press a digital thermometer to our necks and confirm that we did not have fever. We put our day packs through the scanner that no one was watching, and handed our passports to the Vietnamese agent to verify and stamp.

P- Tell me what sense it makes to have us put only the bags we're carrying in the scanner when our big packs were driven around on the motorcycles.

G- It makes no difference anyway because no one was looking at the scanner.

P- And why did we just have to pay $1.00 each?

G- I believe that was the charge for the medical exam.

P- The what?

G- Having our temperature taken. Our medical exams. Who the hell knows.

P- Thank Gawd he didn't try to take our temps rectally.

G- I'd be in a Vietnamese jail!   Everything costs 1 dolla!

P- Not anymore, Vietnam doesn't use the US dollar, they use dongs.

G- I don't really care for that name.

P- Well get used to hearing it.

After passing the final guard building, and going around the cross bar, we learned that Vietnam requires all motorcycle drivers, and their passengers, to wear helmets. The ride to Na Tien took only 10 minutes and because we had no hotel reservations, the drivers delivered us to the 'bus station', a metal overhang, approximately a block long, with buses parked underneath. We hadn't even gotten off the bikes yet when.................

Man – You have hotel?

P- No.

G- You want to recommend one?

Man – You go to Can Tho?

P- Eventually.

Man – Bus leave in 30 minutes. You go to Can Tho.

P- We're not going anywhere now. Maybe tomorrow.

Man – No bus tomorrow. Holiday.

G- OMG! How many times are we going to be told this bullshit?!?!

He was still talking as we paid the motorcycle drivers and walked away. That didn't stop him from following us. As we walked to the 3 hotels we had seen around the corner 2 other guys began to follow us and ask the usual questions: where you from? you take tour? You go to this hotel. I cannot tell you how annoying and frustrating it is to have people swarming you and yap, yap, yapping while you're trying to orient yourself, carry your crap, and find a place to stay. It is by far, the worst thing about traveling through Asia, the relentless buzzing around you that prevents you from thinking or ever having a moment of peace while walking down the street.

We selected a room at the second hotel we viewed. It had air con, a mini fridge, and hot water in an en suite bathroom, and cost $10.00. The border crossing at Na Tien had opened only 2 months ago and it was evident that this town was unaccustomed to seeing western faces. We garnered many stares as we walked around town and found few people who spoke English. But it was a cute town, set on a river, with a vibrant market in a large yellow building.

We were strolling along the river, through an outside fruit & vegetable market, when a woman sat up in her lawn chair to stare at us. She looked me over, then turned her attention to Phyl which prompted a huge grin on her face. She pointed at Phyl's breasts, cupped her own and jiggled them up and down as she started to laugh hysterically. She turned to a woman behind her and jabbered something in Vietnamese, pointed at Phyl, and resumed laughing hysterically.


P- WTF?!!!!

G- That may be one of the rudest displays of ogling your breasts that I have ever seen and it was done by a woman and not a man!

P- I'm not sure if she was ogling or making fun of them, but why does she think that's ok?

G- I don't know babe, but you know Asian women have small boobs. Yours just freak them out.

P- Well, behavior like hers is totally rude, I don't care how small her boobs are.

We walked less than a block farther and came across the foul section of the market. Under separate umbrellas sat chickens and ducks. At first we thought they were dead, but they were very much alive with their feet tied so they couldn't run off. We stood, watching dumbfounded, as a man rode up on his motorcycle and selected a rooster which was handed to him by its feet. The seller held out a plastic grocery bag into which the purchaser placed the rooster, head first. The seller then tore a hole into the corner of the bag out of which the roosters head protruded as it, and the buyer, rode away on the motorcycle.

G- This trip is affording us the opportunity to live in the past, America's past, Asia's present. It's fascinating.

P- I guess that rooster was going to be dinner.

G- I don't know. If it was for dinner wouldn't he have selected a hen? Maybe he needs a mate for his hens.

P- Or maybe he needs a rooster for a cock fight.

G- Didn't think of that. That's one thing that's not the past in America. At least not in Louisiana where cock fighting is still legal. At least it was the last I heard.

P- I think it still is.



Where's the parade?

 It was hot as hell so we returned to the hotel to cool off. I took a quick shower, something my shaved head, and lack of make up, made exceedingly easy to do, and we relaxed for several hours. After dark we went in search of something light for dinner. The streets were packed with people strolling, shopping in the market, and eating at street carts. We were finding it difficult to find a place to eat due to the language barrier and because we only wanted soup. Finally we stumbled across 3 ladies sitting at a table, next to a street cart, on a corner. They were eating soup. We looked at the cart, then into their bowls. One of the ladies held up her bowl so that we could see what she was eating.

G- That looks good. Let's try it.

P- Ok. It looks safe enough.

We smiled at the lady and held up 2 fingers. She nodded and pointed to the table behind hers. 4 tables lined the sidewalk and 4 in the street. It must be said that these tables, and chairs, were the size used in kindergartens, and made of plastic. We sat down and our knees were parallel with our chests and the same height as the table. The other patrons of this restaurant looked at us as if we had 3 heads each. A man, presumably her husband, brought the huge bowl of soup to our table.



Soup for you!

 G- Let's see what's in here.

P- It's so dark, it's hard to see.

G- I see carrots, some greens, this tastes like a mushroom.

P- I've got chicken and noodles.

G- Yes, I have a piece of chicken too, but also, I think this is a piece of duck. What is this?

P- I'm not sure what that is. What does it taste like?

G- I can't tell. The soup is not bad, but it has a weird flavor. What do you think the stock is made with?

P- I hate to tell you this, but I think it has some kind of blood in it.

G- You think the funny flavor is blood?

P- Yes.

G- How about fish sauce or some other kind of strange tasting sauce we're not use to.

P- Think whatever you want, but I think it's blood. The books I've been reading about Cambodia and Vietnam talk about a soup that is made with blood.

G- Please stop telling me this.

Just then the husband coughed and spat on the sidewalk next to our table.



Paying Mr. Hock-a-Loogie



G- Ok! That does it. I'm done.

P- If the blood wasn't bad enough, Mr. Hock-a-Loogie just killed it for me too. That is disgusting!






It may not have been the best soup in the world, but it satisfied us for the night and we headed back to the hotel. We had only been in Vietnam for ½ a day and already we were seeing new and unusual things.



the snowball man



Look Ma, No Hair!

Sof, the tuk-tuk driver who had picked us up at the bus drop off point, asked if we wanted to go on a tour of the area and we arranged for him to pick us up at 10:00 am. Last night we had discussed things to do with the owner of Blissful, and he had even given us a map. Phyl ate a banana pancake and drank hot tea while I shared her tea and ate dry, knock-off, Frosted Flakes. We were a little wary of spending the day exploring the area in a tuk-tuk, so I swallowed 2 Immodiums and Phyl swallowed 1.




Kampot is durian capital of Cambodia



Sof's English was good and we showed him the map, confirmed the places we would visit, confirmed a price of $18.00 for the whole day, and off we went. He first drove us around the town a Kampot, once a French Colonial town, to see the remnants of French architecture. This didn't take long. We then headed east to salt flats. This is a large area, resembling rice fields, but instead filled with salt water from the Gulf of Thailand. The ponds are about 50' x 75' and shallow. The water evaporates in about 3 days time and the salt is then collected and stored in a large, wooden, salt barn. The pools were quite pretty and colorful shimmering in the sunlight.

En route to our next stop, a cave, we passed Sof's fishing village where her grew up. He now lives in Kampot with his wife and 2 year old son, but his family still lives in this village. When it's not tourist season, he still fishes with his family members. We stopped briefly at what he called a fishing village, but it consisted of 2 canals and approximately 8 houses. We turned off the main road and began the long, arduous journey down the severely rutted, very dusty, red dirt road leading to the cave.

G- Hey, I hope you've got that tuk-tuk-titty thing working.

P- I got it going on, Agnes.

G- Good, on this road you could give me black eyes if we're not careful. Did you see that “barber

shop” we just passed?

P- No, was it in one of those shacks?

G- Yeah. Typical one with a dirt floor and a barber chair. You've been saying that you're hot and you don't want to wait until Tibet to shave your head, so get your head shaved by that guy. It'll be more fun if he shaves it and not me.

P- Oh, you want me to shave my head now? Are you going to shave yours too?

G- Yes, I will too. You know it's something I've always wanted to do, but I am chicken, so you go first.

P- I see how you are. Ok, let's check it out when we leave the cave.

The road to the cave cut through a pretty little valley surrounded by low mountains. Some houses lined the road, but many others were placed randomly in the rice fields, surrounded by palm trees. Cows, chickens, and pigs lay in the shade under the houses. A school's morning session must have let out because the road was lined with grade school children walking and riding bikes. As we passed most of them called out, “hello
madam” and waved at us with huge smiles. This is something we have come to love about Cambodia, and we thoroughly enjoyed returning greetings, smiling, and waving back to the children. At one point 2 boys, around 10 or 11 years old, peddled as fast as they could to keep up with our tuk-tuk and have a conversation.

Boys – Hello Madam.

G & P – Hello! How are you today?

Boys – Good.

P- Are you going home from school?

Boys – Yes. Where are you from?

G- We are from America.

Boys – New York? Washington D.C.?

P- No, we're from New Orleans, but we are living in California. Have you heard of California?

Boys – Yes. California.



a short rest

 G- Your English is very good.

Boys – (smiling even bigger with pride) Thank you madam. Where do you go?

P- Now we are going to the cave.

Boys – And tomorrow?

P- Tomorrow we go to Vietnam. We have to leave Cambodia and we are very sad.

Boys- You are sad?

G- Yes. We love Cambodia very much and especially the Cambodian people. Everyone is very friendly, just like you. Can I take your picture?

Boys- (about to burst with pride) Yes! (They rode faster and smiled for the camera.)

P- It was nice to meet you.

Boys – Good-bye.



G- (to Phyl) I love these kids! It makes me so happy to smile and wave to them and tell them hello. They seem to get the biggest kick out of it too.

P- I love it too.

We arrived at the starting point for the hike to the cave and were swarmed with preteens offering to be our tour guides. Sof walked with us and we declined all offers, but ended up with 3 kids anyway. The 2 boys were typical boys and cut up with each other more than they guided us, but the girl was a very intelligent, petite thing who could even tell us the things growing in the gardens we passed.

Girl – This is mint, and that is basil.

P- What's that?

Girl – How you say in English..............small salad?

P- Oh, lettuce?

Girl – Yes, lettuce! (she was also making a joke because the lettuce was still new and small.)

We were shocked to learn that she was 10 years, she looked 7, and she lived in the village we passed through to reach the cave. She goes to school in the morning, then in the afternoons, to earn some money, guides tourists up to the cave. She even knew what stalactites and stalagmites were and could explain how they were formed by water. She was quite impressive.


It was extremely hot and the walk to, and the climb up the 200 stairs to the cave took quite a toll on us because of our dehydration from the night before. We tried to drink a lot of water, but Phyl was starting to feel nauseous again. Fortunately, we recovered in the tuk-tuk as we made our way back through the village, waving at the adorable and exceptionally friendly children.

We told Sof that we wanted to find a barber, and he stopped at the one we had seen on the way in, but that barber was closed for lunch. We returned to the main road and headed toward the pepper plantation. Along the way, Sof turned down a road leading to a village and stopped in front of a 'beauty parlor'. Of course we didn't want a beauty parlor, but were lucky to find a barber directly across the street. It took quite a while to explain to Sof, and for him to translate to the barber, exactly what we wanted done. Part of the problem was that even though the barber used a shaver, he had never put the guard on the shaver and actually shaved someone's head in a buzz cut.

Sof – He does not know what you want.



outside barber shop

 P- We want him to shave our heads.

Sof- Like he cuts this man's hair?

P- No, with the guard on the shaver. This thing is a guard.

Sof- We do not understand how you mean.

G- I will show him, then he can do it. Does he agree?




Sof – He says ok.

G- How much will he charge us?

Sof- He says $1.00 for you and $1.00 for you.

P- I don't know Gi, think we can afford that?

G- I believe so.






sugar cane juice




Several men sat in the 'barber shop', a tin structure protruding from the front of the man's home. His wife watched as she held their baby, joined by an older lady, presumably her mother. Once Phyl sat in the chair, people were coming out of the shops on either side and from across the street. We had become quite the spectacle. I clipped the guard to the shaver and began shaving Phyl's head. It did not take long for the barber to see what I was doing and figure out what we wanted. After her head was shaved, he made the motions for shaving her neck and we nodded in agreement. He made a big deal of showing us that he was putting a new blade into a straight edge razor, and cleaned up the hair on her neck. The crowd continued to grow as my head was shaved and neck cleaned. We posed for a few photos and off we went.



jackfruit



On the way to the pepper plantation we stopped at a road side stand where sugar cane was pressed into juice and poured over ice. It was a very tasty, and not too sweet, drink. While the husband pressed the cane, the wife was kind enough to give me a piece of it to chew. It reminded me of childhood field trips to the French Market where I would purchase sugar cane and chew it, on the bus, on the way home.

Good times! Good times!

P- I had no idea that pepper grew like a vine or in little bunches.

Sof- You taste.

G- Wow! It definitely tastes like black pepper.

P- Good thing, 'cause that's what it is.



pepper vines



G- I know, but it's still young and green and hasn't been dried yet, so I didn't expect it to taste exactly like the pepper corns I know.

Sof- Take photo with me.

G- Ok. Phyl, stand next to Sof. (After taking it, I showed him.)

Sof – Good.

Many things were grown on this plantation besides pepper. Sof showed us jack fruit trees, papayas, mangos, durian and cashew nut trees. We purchased a bag of pepper corn, for which Kampot is famous, and we headed back down the dusty road.

G- Look at the women sitting at the tables of that restaurant shack with all the pigs laying around their feet.

P- Big pink pigs!

G- That cracks me up! “Yen, would you get me some more rice? Be careful not to trip over my pig.”

P- Hahaha. I guess it's no big deal to them.

G- The next time we go up the road to eat dinner, we'll have to take our pig. She doesn't get out enough.



Kep means crab

 P- I was noticing she's getting fat. I think she needs some exercise.


G- You stupid!

It took another 30 minutes to reach Kep, but the beach road was closed. Not a problem! Sof yelled to a guy on a motorcycle who lifted the rope over our tuk-tuk as Sof drove under.


P- I hate those pesky road closed signs.

G- They're not intended for us. We'll just go around.

The road and seawall were under major construction as the whole area was being rebuilt. Kep had once been a hopping beach town during the French occupation, but had been destroyed in the war. Many shells of once beautiful homes still lined the road on the opposite side of the beach. In another decade, the area will likely be rebuilt and thriving with tourists and Phnom Penhers on holiday. For now, we were very happy that we did not save our beach time for Kep, as we had once considered, because the beach itself is very small, not very inviting, and doesn't hold a candle to Otres Beach.

We stopped at a restaurant, built out over the Gulf of Thailand, and enjoyed the regional specialty, crabs & Kampot pepper. We invited Sof to join us and we're thrilled to watch him enjoy a lunch he probably could not afford. Just outside the restaurant's window we could see crab traps holding our lunch, and a man in the process of pulling them further into the Gulf because the tide had gone out. That's what we call fresh crabs!!


Sof dropped us at our guesthouse by 5:00 pm and we got his address so that we could send him copies of the photos we had taken. His address was unusual in that we were to put his name, the name of his village, Kampot, Cambodia. He was very excited that we would write to him and insistent that he will get our letter addressed as indicated.

P- What do you think happens............ the letter is sent to Kampot, then the mailman just brings it to someone in the village who sends word to Sof that he has a letter?

G- I guess. I assume that it would be big news if Sof got a letter from America. The whole village would know it.

P- We did see the village and it's not very big.

G- It's just hard to wrap our brains around, but I have no doubt that it was like this in “the olden days” in America too. Back before communities were so large and people didn't even know their next door neighbors.

P- I guess so. Come to think of it, I have never seen anything that looks like a mail truck or anyone who looks like a mailman.



gas stop from Pepsi bottle



G- The whole town of Siem Reap only had one post office, so I don't imagine that Kampot has more than one. Maybe there is no mailman. Maybe word is sent to Sof's village and he has to go pick up the letter.





Our stomachs were still ok after eating that risky lunch and we were not going to risk eating dinner, so we spent the evening watching TV in our clean, air conditioned room and tried to prepare ourselves for Vietnam.

disco cigarettes!