Wednesday, November 26, 2003: Every Colour but Blue

You might be familiar with Santa, The Easter Bunny, The Tooth Fairy, The Great Pumpkin, The Ghost of Christmas Toes and Chairman Mao, but did you know that there is another night time visitor who will leave you a special surprise?

He comes riding on wobbly wheeled tricycle, chased by three yapping schnitzels named Tempest, Tom Tom, and Frank. He wears big yellow pants and has a pair of oversized red shoes. He hovers over your bed and dispenses goofer-dust from his “honk horn” while you sleep. When you awake the next day you’ll know for sure you’ve been visited by…

Gurgles the Vomit Clown.

Now don’t go blaming Gurgles for your alcohol induced conversation with God on the big porcelain telephone. That’s your own fault. Or maybe it’s Brian Creswell’s fault. But don’t blame Gurgles.

But if you wake up one day with abdominal cramps, high powered projectile yacks and lower body jet-boat propulsion that has you expelling every colour but blue… THEN you know Gurgles has been around.

If you don’t know which end to point at the toilet bowl, and could cook an egg on your burning forehead… You KNOW Gurgles has been by.

Besides this half-baked fever induced explanation is much simpler and cheaper than going to the doctor and or hospital to be bled like it’s the middle-ages then charged double to be told nothing other than “don’t eat, go home and rest” which is exactly what you feel like doing anyways.

Monday, November 24, 2003: Dream # 3049583345

I had a dream on the weekend that I was back in Toronto. It was cold, grey and depressing. In the dream I went to this house, which for some reason had a surplus store inside. I was trying to find a pair of tiger-stripe combat pants (the ultimate non-comformist fashion statement in 1979). The fellow who ran the place only had them available in shorts. That was unacceptable.

There was a party of some sort also happening at this house. All these "cool" people whom I recognized from various Queen Street hipster happenings were at this party. Most of them I'd forgotten about, but there they were, all being cool and hip... except...

They were all really old. And they were all really really boring. And they all looked sickly and pale and like all the Farang tourists do; confused.

In the dream I wished I was back in Bangkok.

Then I woke up. Sandy, sunshine and 35 degrees in the shade.

I saw the wreckage of a motocycle under the front of a cement mixer. I must be in Bangkok still.

Wednesday, November 19, 2003: Accidents Will Happen

I was out with Kaboom in the Zero and saw an accident. Some woman opened the door of the pick-up truck just beside or right front wheel but before she could step out a courier on a scooter drove into it and went flying Hot Knife Joe style over his handle bars and in front of us. It was a traffic jam so we weren’t moving. Kaboom helped get the scooter off the road and the driver of the pick-up exchanged words with the courier. He wasn’t banged up too badly considering he landed on his head. He was more angry than injured.

Friday, November 14, 2003: Loi Krathong

This past weekend was the big Thai holiday where the locals make little boats called Krathongs, stick candles in them, light incense and send them off down the rivers, Khlongs and out to sea. Each boat a prayer of some sort, its all very Buddhist and very superstitious, but is fun and includes enough eating and drinking to make it worth the trouble.

We, that being the unmentionables otherwise know as Mr. Walnuts and The Girl with a Thing on Her Thang (I have never seen it, only read of it in cheap pulp novels) as well as Bonhomme de Neige and friends went to some place or other by the river for the events. I brought Sandy along.

There was food and drink although I didn’t have any of the latter, and we got so send off our little boats. Walnuts was all proud that his prayer bonnet’s candle didn’t blow out like everyone else’s did. That is until the Krathongs reached the guys who were swimming in the river with inner-tubes pillaging them for what ever lose change and small baht notes may have been stuck in them as a prayer offering. They initially had plundered them with a degree of reverence, picking carefully though them, careful not to upset them. Then as more inner-tubers showed up the plundering took on a more desperate nature and soon enough they were simply tearing the little Krathongs to bits, Walnuts’ included.

A Police boat came by and sort of scared them away momentarily but since they weren’t collecting enough cash to really peak the interest of the cops, the Police were somewhat half hearted in there efforts. Once they’d gone away the Inner-Tube Gang got bolder and worked their way up towards the very point where people were launching their Krathongs.

I entertained Sandy with the concept of renaming the day Loi Katoy (which is the Thai word for “Lady-Boy”) and launching cross-dressers down rivers with candles and incense sticks poking out their butts. The Unmentionables heckled the Inner-tube Gang and eventually Walnuts was leaning over the wall dropping glasses of J Walker to them.

Thursday, November 6, 2003: Phnom Penh Weekend

For quite a while now Bonhomme has been urging me to check out Phnom Penh. I had dismissed this notion due to my misconception that it would be a cross between Poipet, and Vientiane. However this weekend both Bonhomme and myself had to make visa runs so instead of dusty Poi pet, or expensive Singapore, I flew to Phnom Penh with him.

Friday October 31 - As it was a morning flight I was up before the Faithful. Kaboom picked me up first then we picked up Bonhomme from the Ice Palace and drove out to the Airport. We checked in, went through customs, and changed our money into the defacto currency of the Kingdom of Cambodia… US Dollars…. The do have their own little currency called the “Riel” Because it not exactly worth much, its used mostly for change, instead of coins. Its nice looking money, but then what isn’t compared to the US Green-back or the vomit-inducing colors of the new Canuck money? My favorite note is the 500 Riel which as Bonhomme pointed out to me seems to have a Porsche driving across the land-mark bridge depicted on it… I guess after being under the yoke of such wing-nuts as Pol Pot you can’t blame them for thinking of such things.

Anyways we boarded our plane and flew off to Phnom Penh. It’s a quick one hour flight and the terrain coming in was quite pretty; a transistion from rugged hills to the flatlands that surround the Mekong. We landed and then passed through customs. Here we found a left over of the old procedure-heavy way of doing things. One guy takes your passport, one guy takes your money and between those two guys there are 5 others doing such tasks as opening it, stamping it, scribbling in it and so forth. What one person does in Thailand seven do in Cambodia. But they do have nice uniforms with giant peaked hats. Very official looking.

From the very new but rather empty airport we took a taxi to our Hotel. We stayed at the “Regent Park”. Only those from Toronto will understand why we found that amusing. Bonhomme had been insisting I save my appetite for Phnom Penh, so once we’d set up in our respective rooms we headed off by motorcycle taxi to the strip along the Mekong that boasts of some amazing restaurants.

Now if those religious among you wonder if I still pray…

I do…

Each time I get on a motorcycle taxi in Bangkok…

These guys on the other hand were in NO hurry. Not an Evil Kenivel amongst them. Perhaps it was that there strange little scooters wouldn’t reach the speeds of the Bangkok motos or perhaps they just weren’t in such a rush. It was a nice ride through some outstanding and truly beautiful parts of the city. Our destination was the amazing FCC – Foreign Correspondents Club. It is located on the second floor of an old French colonial style building and over looks the Mekong River. We had our breakfast here, and it was excellent. The best scrambled eggs I’ve had ages.

The afternoon was spent going out to the “Killing Fields” on the outskirts of the city where Pol Pot’s Khmer Rogue (Red Cambodians) brutally executed 20,000 people for such crimes as being able to read, having glasses, having soft hands, being able to play an instrument, having a profession, being attractive and so forth. Being the children of anyone with those qualifications also entitled you to being beaten to death or worse. Pol Pots idea was to make everyone rice farmers.

Bonhomme had told me about the place but his warnings didn’t prepare me for the reality of it. I had imagined it a barren horrible dusty place, not the green peaceful spot that it was. The ride out was through the shanty zone of the city and on some really brutal roads to some very peaceful country side. We pulled in, parked and paid a small fee to go into what is now a monument to those who were killed there. A guide was provided who walked with us through the grounds, and gave us a history lesson as we went.

The real eye opener was the monument that contains 8,000 skulls that were exhumed from the surrounding fields. They are on shelves that go to the very top of the structure, and are arranged according to age and gender. The very base of the monument has some of the clothes stripped from the victims before they were executed as well as the leg irons they were transported in. The monument is set up in such a fashion that you can, if you choose to, climb up a ladder to the top. You can also if you chose, touch the skulls.

From there we walked through the fields themselves. There are in many spots still clothes coming out of the ground as well as small bits of bones visible. With each rainy season more comes to the surface. We were shown various pits that were mass graves as well as a tree that young children and infants were beaten to death against. No guns were used in the killing, just the crudest of instruments.

We walked the entire length of the area then headed back towards the city. I managed to get quite a few photos but I am undecided about posting them. It was odd for me to touch the same skulls that I did a pen an ink drawing of in Grade 11.

Friday night was completely Halloween free.

There was an excellent fireworks display over the Mekong in Celebration of the King’s Birthday. We were in one place and could hear it going off, so we went outside and watched it on the street with the locals. We had our dinner at a restaurant called K West which I believe was attempting to have some kind of Halloween party, except no one was really interested. This may have been due to the Novocain DJ stylings of the host. The food was excellent though.

Saturday, Nov 1 – Breakfast could only occur at one place; FCC. Bonhomme went for the Eggs Benny and I had mine scrambled. And there we sat looking out over to the Mekong, enjoying the breeze and the sun. The ceiling fans did their thing, and I lazed in way I haven’t lazed in quite a while. If I lived in Phnom Penh I would no doubt be at FCC on a daily basis.

When we finally motivated ourselves to leave the next stop was the “Russian” Market. Originally it was called that because you could buy all sorts of Soviet surplus kit there. Now it is full of all the same sort of market crap you can buy in Bangkok or Mexico City for that matter. I was on a hunt for t-shirts and post cards, which I found, as well as a few items for Sandy. Due to the King’s Birthday the market was relatively quiet. I was glad of that because of the congested nature of the place and the stuffiness. Although it was under a roof it was really hot. The air didn’t seem to move at all but just hung there heavy and dusty like a tomb. I was happy to find what I wanted but I was happier to leave. For me, as with Temples, the thrill of huge markets has long since vanished.

We finished the afternoon off by going out to a shooting range. There are several around Phnom Penh, and all seem to offer you the chance to blast away with surplus weapons that would have North American gun-control advocates break dancing in rage over. Want to toss a hand grenade? That’s 25 bucks. Want to fire a RPG? That’s 100 bucks. How about a 7.62 machine gun? 100 dollars for 100 rounds, at 1000 round per minute possibly the fastest way to spend you money ever conceived.

Bonhomme and I were only interested in firing some rifles. There were several choices, but we started out with the third world’s standard weapon, the Chinese made AK 47. It was big, mildly clumsy and certainly loud enough. It didn’t have as much as a kick as I’d expected considering the size of the thing but I did have an annoy tendency to pull up to the right after every shot. I found it difficult not to blink when I fired it, this mostly to do with the way it expelled the spent casings. We took turns blasting away with it, alternating from semi to the expensive full-auto mode.

The only automatic assault rifle I’ve ever fired was the Belgium made FN Rifle. That was ALONG time ago, back when I was a Halifax Rifle Cadet. It was a monstrous weapon, especially for a 13 year old to fire, and even when we target practiced with .22 ammo instead of the 7.62 (at that time) NATO standard, you knew you’d fired the thing. I’ve always been curious to fire an M 16 so with several versions available I tried out the 203 version. It was best described by Bonhomme as a Barbie gun.

I’m sure it would be preferable to carry around than the AK 47 because it doesn’t weigh much, but firing it was surreal. It felt just like a toy. It kicked like a toy. It went POP POP like a toy. Even on full automatic it sounded like a toy. That is until it jammed. Which it did every 7 or 8 rounds. The 5.56 bullets looked like little dainty lip-stick containers. The shooting range instructor/guide fellow would un-jam it for us, complain that it was a piece of junk then hand it back to us. Eventually we switched to an original style M 16, which felt even more like a Mattel toy and jammed just as much as the 203. Switching magazines didn’t help. We went back to the AK 47.

As the day came to an end and the indoor range was too dark to see in we finished our shooting off outside with a Czech made CZ .22 caliber target pistol. That was really like shooting a cap-gun after the AK 47. Bonhomme seemed to like that gun a lot. Covered in dust, gun powder and grease we headed back to Regent Park to shower and change. We hooked up afterwards and watched more fireworks from the balcony of the building, then walked over to a really nice French restaurant and had a quality meal.

Later we saw a few of the bars and night clubs around town. The most notable being called “Heart of Darkness” which had a lot of security and was really very cool looking inside. We got around mostly by moto, the feeling I had was there were certain areas it would be best to pass through as quickly as possible. Then suddenly we’d be in a really pretty area with lots going on.

Sunday, Nov 2 – Again Breakfast at FCC. We had it at 9:00 am to allow us to get in as much as possible before heading to the airport at 2:30 pm. I had pancakes; Bonhomme went for the eggs Benny with salmon. Once we’d eaten we took a stroll up towards the “Japan Bridge” in search of a boat to rent. The Japan Bridge is a huge bridge that the Japanese built the Cambodians a few years ago as a gift. We walked along the water line and eventually found a fair sized boat which we rented for an hour and a half. Ten minutes were spent trying to explain what an hour and a half was. It cost only 15 dollars.

So for 90 minutes we went down the Mekong, then up and around the island that is in the centre of the Mekong and back to our starting point. We passed by lots of locals in little boats who were busy fishing with nets. Along the far opposite banks we watched these kids slide down the side of a muddy hill on their butts into the river, until they saw us then stopped to wave and yell “hello” at us. We passed by some Popeye-style villages of wooden Gillian huts on stilts, as well as some nice orchards. Everywhere we passed by we were waved at in the friendliest way. It is hard to imagine these people beating each other to death with knotted ropes.

After our boat ride we walked around the city some more, making a stop at the “new” shopping mall. It is located near the huge Central market but wouldn’t rank as much of mall in Bangkok. It is new though, and clean inside. The escalators even have special staff to make sure everyone getting on them knows how to get on them. From there we headed back to FCC for one final drink before heading to the hotel to pack. At 2:30 pm a taxi took us to the airport and we flew back to Bangkok.