CrustyAdventures

Who'd have thunk it?

crustyadventures — Tue, 5 Jun 2007 05:15:00 GMT

Huh... who'd have thunk it? I'd find myself in Oslo presenting to a global eco-tourism conference, drawing on work experience but also travel tales near and far, to piece together an angle on a complex world. I met some great people and wonder if I will look back in years to come and remember the day I met Gopi from The Blue Yonder, Martha Honey or Intrepid's Responsible Travel Manager, Jane Crouch?

Maybe my lasting memory will be the visual image of the Masai warrior respelendant in colourful blankets, spear in hand, microphone in the other infront of a projected PowerPoint slide.

Now I'm on my way out to London for 24 hours and there's a few funny memories that haven't been caught on Camera that need to be recorded here...

AQUAROBICS: Lost luggage between London Heathrow and Oslo airport means that I arrive with no spare clothes at all and the need to wash off 28 hours of travel. Chris (also in the same boat) and I put a pair of togs onto the company credit card and dive into the Holmenkollen Park Hotel pool. Ah relief! Before we know it, it fills up with a few families and then a stream of yougn girls, pert and pubescent and giggling. We wonder where they're all coming from?

Later, much later, we return for an end fo the day dip and dive in with a group of 6 or 7 girls on a hen's party. Not much alcohol in sight, but a huge 80's style boom box that they use to pump out disco tracks whilst the Hen herself leads the group in a session of aquarobics. I am invited to join in "the fun" but can hardly manage to lift my arms aloft such is the weight of the jet-lag setting in.

THE COST OF THINGS: Hardly a funny memory! But worth noting that beer cost at least $20AUD for a pint in a waterfront pub. However, that pales into insignificance next to the $300, 50 minute taxi fare from the airport. Ouch!

And finally, THE HOLLMENKOLLEN GIRLS CHOIR: I suspect this is where the girls at the pool fit in. At the offical conference dinner, the girls choir came out to sing for us. I sat up expectantly - bring on the traditional embroidered costumes, songs of Nordic forests and vikings! But instead, about 20 strutting girls wearing jeans and sunglasses wiggled their tooshes to 'One Night in Bangkok' for the opening number. Such good spoken (and sung) English could not cover the fact that the lyrics are about prostitution and I giggled at the inappropriateness of it all.

He he he ;-)

I'm in a Norsca commercial

crustyadventures — Mon, 14 May 2007 04:08:00 GMT

Oslo; first impressions. Green, calm and clean. It's so nice to have arrived at the Oslo airport which smelled of popcorn and looked like a stylish entrance to a sauna, all glass and wood and light. This was a contrast after the awful mayhem of a quick flight changeover in London's Heathrow which required 'fast track' access clearance from uniformed women with big behinds and a sprint down a kilometer or so of terminal corridors. In UK style, the travellators were out of order too.

The calming views from the mountain we're staying on seem to wash away the fact that I don't have my luggage yet(nor does Chris). Hopefully, I'll go downstairs in a minute and it will have magically arrived sometime overnight. If not, I'm not sure the conference delegates want to meet and greet me in tracksuit pants that I have been wearing for the last 3 days. Ewww.

Oslo city lies beneath the Hollmenkollen Hotel, all compact around the harbour on the Fjord. It's misty and soft and I'm enjoying the cool breezes (my hotel window actually opened and I could breathe real air last night - what a treat from the usual air-con prison hell). With summer here, the little grasses have put forward their best yellow dandelion flowers, the trees are all budding and the sea of green pine forest called the Marka that surrounds Oslo just stretches on forever. All these Nordic pines are standing to attention, neat and orderly; painted in by a landscape artist intent on presenting Norway as a ecological paradise in pristine condition. I feel like I'm in a Norsca commercial. It makes our familiar Australian gum forests look like some artisan absent mindledly just scribbled them in.

The longer I sit (Bude, Cornwall)

crustyadventures — Sun, 9 Jul 2006 18:40:00 GMT

There's not a lot of bugs in England, but I just managed to sit down on a small ant hill, alive with small black creatures, scurrying & carrying their loads across the cliff top. I was trying to plant my bum firmly behind a tussocky mound so I could look out at the view calmly and not worry too much where the edge was. I've moved to the left now ... still feeling safe and these meadowy grasses providing nice comfort for the bum. Of course one questions safety at these moments for many reasons...

The Bean is strapped in her car seat, which is attached to the large rock behind me with two climbing nuts and some slings. She's sucking her thumb whilst snoozing and snuffling - obviously unpertubed by the height, but maybe a little irritated by the wind. That's the scene behind me.

The one in front sees Charlie halfway up a fin of rock, clinging deftly to some sparse holds whilst the sea crashes around the rocks below all green and churning and relentless with it's whooshing noise. Charlie's belt of rock climbing nuts and cams is slowly getting smaller as they're carefully wedged in bomber placements. Gilly's waiting below for her turn to follow behind and strip them all out again. Those two are joined at the hip - harnesses and otherwise...

So it seems that everyone's strapped to this Cornish cliff except me. The longer I sit, the more my vertigo subsides and those random, irrational thoughts of 'What if.." ebb away. Now, after settling in and scribbling these notes I can glance up and take in this beautiful rocky coastline. The meadows go right up to the edge and I'm amused by the cows who stand around all day with the best views in all Britain.

Wildlife count

crustyadventures — Sun, 9 Jul 2006 18:33:00 GMT

Furry woodland creatures spotted on tour:

* Grey Squirrel, alive and well in the Westonbirt Arboretum

* Bumblebees - lots of them, but apparently in a mysterious decline across the British Isles. You've gotta rate any animal that is anatomically impossible.

* Shrew - tiny little (dead) thing with a very cute and pointy nose.

* Badger - roadkill on the way out to Wales. Still counts in my book though on account of them being unbelievable cool with a big stripe on their head and also quite rare. I'm reckoning that this is like seeing a 'Roo for our tourists.

* Bunny Rabbits - galore!

The Bean's first...

crustyadventures — Sun, 9 Jul 2006 17:23:00 GMT

The Bean's first... well everything practically! she'll remember none of it, so let's make a list.

* FLIGHT:: this long haul flight saw the Bean very well behaved. she slept through takeoff and landing between Singapore and London and about 10 of the twelve hours in between. It bodes well.

* SUMMER DAYS :: Born in the middle of Autumn in Sydney, the days had turned crispy, sharp and short by the time she emerged from hospital. Now, by contrast, they've been unseasonally hot (OAPs have been issued health warnings) & JC Bean's sweated out a few hours in the car seat in a singlet and nappy. They're also so incredibly l-o-n-g. A new day almost starts before the last one's stopped.

* FOREIGN COUNTRIES :: Already clocked up two - England and Wales. Not bad for 3 months. But do you think she notices the difference? Does my milk taste different? Possibly even better?!! Apart from generally awful coffee, the food's been great. thanks to Marks & Sparks Motorway shop - all natural fresh food to go - hardly a splattering of grease or E numbers was consumed on the drive down to the West Country. And with Tescos and Waitrose stocking so much organic food, i can't believe that England (!?) is providing gastronomic surprises.

* CUDDLE WITH GRANNY GRIM & MIKE :: She must know it's the GP's and the Bean offered up her best smiles for the first three days. Mike's convinced that it's actually a permanant state.

A new kind of journey

crustyadventures — Thu, 25 May 2006 07:11:00 GMT

Now THIS is travelling... imagine 9 months cocooned in a dark, wet environment where sounds are muffled and sensations insulated. It's home, although altogether a foreign place and not somewhere it's possible to visit once you've left.

And then all of a sudden you start the most sensational journey of your little life. Descend the birth canal and emerge squished and blinking under the first lights you've ever seen, breathing air for the very first time and recognising that you are no longer attached to the home you'd found so cozy.

This is Jemima Charlie Grimmer's first journey and no doubt one that she'll definitely forget. What a pity. We have only a few pictures showing the shock of this experience on her tiny face.

Although a strange post in a travel journal, I've been musing on the first journey we all take in our lives - being born. I think the 3 hours of gas and 14 hours of epidural drugs helped my state of mind imagine more vividly than is usual all these 'miracle of life' experiences for babies and parents.

Now we're planning a real trip and I'm hoping that she's already got the travel bug - it'll make life so much easier if the anticipation of getting on a plane is exciting and happy for her, and doesn't cause crying fits, anxiety, even-more explosive pooping than normal.
We've booked Miss JC Bean on her first UK tour and preparation has begun. A visit to the first-time grandparents, Uncle Corin in London and friends scattered around the land.

Just what exactly do we need to take? The list seems huge- will they let us on the plane if we arrive with unwieldy and unusual shaped prams? How about the baby-bouncer? Hardly essential, but her favourite spot at the moment. Does one take a month's worth of nappies (No -I'm sure they have babies in the Uk too)? How many changes of clothes? Some gaffa tape to shut her screaming mouth and please the passengers upset that we've ruined their 24 hour plane trip?

Travel with children is a new category for me. I'd be more comfortable if I could fit her in the backpack next to the pocket knife and iPod. Yes, she's also a small fashionable travel accessory... but this one wriggles.

I can only conclude that this is a new kind of adventurous journey for me too. Let's hope it unfolds gracefully, and if not, at least humourously. ;-)

Leaving with a Sabaidee

crustyadventures — Sat, 12 Mar 2005 01:31:00 GMT

We're killing time in a bakery/coffee shop next to the Siam Centre. The bus threw us out at the airport after an all-nighter from Vientiane, crossing out of Laos' borders and into Thailand at the Friendship Bridge and then endless miles of real Dual Carriageway back into the capital. I'm tired, despite having slept a bit on the bus thanks to scoring Seats #1 and 2 with several feet of legroom out in front, allowing a semi-horizontal snoozing position. Hurrah!

We were at the airport at 5.45am in the still-sticky dark and had found somewhere to leave our bags by 6.15am. Since then, it's been a series of lingering moments in coffee shops, a bus trip from the airport to another coffee shop and then loitering until the doors of this Megaplex shopping world open at 10am. Now at 8.55am, I'm looking out the window at a dozen Thai models from 14-24 years nattering away on some benches outside... legs as long as you like and those bony frames that make clothes hang well, never getting caught on any lumpy, curvy bits. Looks like we've landed in the middle of Bangkok's Fashion Week and there are simply minxes everywhere!

Laos moves further away with every minute; inevitable, but sad. I'll leave with a cheery "Sabaidee" as the trip comes to a close.

Laos, last(ing) thoughts from Luang NamTha.

crustyadventures — Fri, 11 Mar 2005 01:40:00 GMT

I'm scribbling notes in the Luang Nam Tha airport "waiting lounge"; rammed earth floor, bamboo hut and BeerLao bunting hanging abundantly from the grass roof.

"Sabaidee"... and a glass of Lao green tea arrives steaming. There's a French couple next to us, mid-50's and I'm thinking that they don't look nearly as nervous about this flight as I do. Maybe it'll be bigger than the 6 seat ancient Cessna that I've got in mind? We'll see...

We're juggling kip and tiny amounts of $US - trying to leave Laos without too much of their folding stuff. It's impossible to change it outside their borders and nearly as difficult to swap it for anything else from within.

Laos will slide away from my current memory as Bangkok gets closer over the next 24 hours and fills the quiet, lacadasial spaces with neon signs, hurried people and pollution. I'm worried that the tiny vignettes of village life and rural idyll (& hardship!) will slip away and be forgotten. Laos is a hard place to pin down; just exactly why it's charming and great fun seems inexplicable in words.

These next few paragraphs will probably fail to explain it too...

An iron-horse came chugging through the river yesterday next to where we stopped on the banks; the noisy diesel engine preceeding any visuals. I looked down into the back of the tray from the riverbank edge and saw 3 men carrying large bowls that they were trying to stop from slopping around as the stones made the tractor lurch from side to side. As it drew nearer, I could see the bowls were full of dark red blood; the men straddling the rails of the tray so their feet didn't get caught up in the mound of entrails that were glinting in the late afternoon sun like mother-of-pearl oil slicks on tangled cables. A large pair of buffalo horns sat on the top. On closer inspection, I traced the edge of the horn down to the forehead, along the nose, mouth and eyes.

The bloke reached down and picked up the buffalo head to show Sam who was level with the river and couldn't yet see the fully butchered array. I was less disturbed with a decapitated buffalo head than I thought I might be. It made me laugh. Not out of a nervous reaction, but a genuine laugh at the craziness and difficulty these blokes had trying to contain the blood of an animal not-dead 30 minutes whilst crossing the river on the back of a home-made mechanical contraption that only vaguely resembled a tractor.

Almost every Laos moment holds a surprise if you stay open to it all.

From the Sublime to the Ridiculous

crustyadventures — Sat, 5 Mar 2005 02:12:00 GMT

Relax, then laugh. Relax some more and laugh again. So goes an afternoon of tubing down the river in Vang Vieng (Laos)

At the end of the dry season, the Nam Song river runs pretty slow – sometimes imperceptibly drifting around long wide river bends and occaisionally quickening it’s pace over some ‘rapids’ ; a foot or two of bubbling water atop green weedy rocks. Generally unable to control the pace whilst drifting along in the inner tube, the rapids are the fun moment that you wait for with anticipation. It’s hours of enforced chillaxing from the comfort of a bright orange ring – feet in the sun, bum in the cool clear water.

What inventive, industrious and adaptable people the Laotians are. All along the river were bamboo platforms, assembled as rough and ready bars to please the the crazy tourist crowd. Men squatted next to their home-made eskies in dustbins housing very cold BeerLao and as we floated past, they’d yell “BeerLao, BeerLao and Jumping!”. The real entrepreneurs had found corner bends and big trees over deep parts of the river and assembled a mottley assortment of swings, jumps and flying foxes. Jumping was free with the purchase of a large bottle of BeerLao for 10,000 kip, a mere 10 cent mark up from most of the cafes in town.

Needless to say that STC was a frequent jumper, exhilarated by the childish thrill of leaping off tall things into water. Not to mention the cold beer on demand! “Now I can understand Apocolypse Now a little better”, he says. “It is possible to have these tiny enclaves of commerce right in the middle of some untamed jungle”.

Aside from 100 metres of rice paddies, banana and bamboo plantations that line the river bends, the rest of the countryside is a series of suddenly vertical karst limestone that rises up for hundreds of feet from the lush green below and is pockmarked with crevices and caves. The riverbanks occaisionally have pebbly beaches along slow bends, but for the most part are invisible under the cover of weeds and trees.

Sounds idyllic and tranquil… But just when you think you’re alone, a glance up and down the river shows 20 brightly coloured tubes in each direction, all glowing sunset orange in the late afternoon sun. The light is glorious, the scene ridiculous. Funny enough to laugh out loud at each other and take stupid pictures. From the inside of the tube, it’s a fantastic experience. To the local observers, I cannot imagine what they make of it all.

Some of the young kids are bold and stride through the stream to grab hold of you when you pass under one of the bamboo bridges. With a determined little face and fit body, a tiny boy latched on and started running along the river stones to propell me through the slow parts. He didn’t speak to me at all – just running and pushing. A few hundred metres downstream, another older boy joined him and took hold of the other side of the inner tube. “Hello – what’s your name?” There was an appropriate exchange and then a question about ages. 6 & 9 years old. Most of the time, the river came up tot he armpits of the 6 year old as he was so small and I watched his brown skin get goosebumps the further and further we went. Every now and then as we passed over a quicker bit, they’d both jump aboard to catch their breath. Then with one on each edge, 9 would hand 6 one of his blue rubber flip-flops and they’d both start paddling like mad again.

STC and I got caught up in this frenzy and started to contribute to the race with giant backstroke style sweeps of the arm. At some point, he yells across at me – ” What do they want? Is this a race? ”. We both laughed and shrugged and kept paddling – it wasn’t clear why our kids were still hanging on when other tuber’s kids had dropped off along the way and swum back to the river banks to join their mates. I didn’t particularly want them to let go either as these two little tackers were helping get through the slow bits with all their might.

What boldness does it take to hunt down a foreigner and ride them down the river like they’re in some kind of horse race?

In the end, when STC’s two kids and my 6 & 9 looked up with adrenaline filled eyes and shyly asked for money, we both laughed and gave them 10,000 kip to split. Sam made it clear to them, they nodded and then started chattering away at a rate of knots to the oldest boy who was holding the money.

Other kids we saw didn’t ask for money – it was just about mucking around on the river and seeing who could win the race on their human-aqua-beasts. From my backwards facing position in the tube, I spent half an hour staring straight into the playful faces of these kids and dreamed about my own adventurous childhood activities. Modern western parents would have had a heart attack at the thought… Hell, we just laughed and laughed and laughed!

Elephant Bidet

crustyadventures — Mon, 28 Feb 2005 02:13:00 GMT

Much to STC’s delight, we found some Heffalumps in Vang Vieng. Whilst watching a herd of water buffalo loll about in the river, which we thought was pretty impressive in itself, we spied 2 even bigger grey lumps further up the banks.

Just for second, we thought they might be wild and stood transfixed at the amazing things that Laos keeps throwing up. On closer inspection however, they were chained to a large pole at the bottom of the Riverside Cafe. We rushed over for some lunch and a good look and before we knew it were booking tickets. So… not wild, but rideable!

I wanted to ride bare back on their tough skin, holding onto their ears for balance and feel their tough, prickly hairs like a savage three day growth dig into my thighs. It’s never as romantic as you imagine though and we climbed onto a wooden saddle, abstracted from the sensory overload of raw elephant save for our bare feet that rested between his shoulder blades.

The two elephants set off up the river towards a limestone cave, occaisonally heading towards the banks to rip off giant snoutfuls of grasses and shrubs. At that moment, I realised that keeping one at home in the garden wasn’t a practical thought. A hungy elephant would mean the immediate destruction of anything carefully planted within reach of his trunk. The handler didn’t try and divert the cheeky elephants – it’s probably the easiest way to keep up with their equally enormous appetites.

Most of the time, the elephants waded in no more than a few feet of water as they plodded up stream, although things got exciting when it reached their tummy and eventually came up over their mouths. Without breaking stride, their trunks appeared in an upwards curl to create a snorkel for them to breathe, snort and splash water about.

At this point, I looked over at the other elephant and watched him poop casually. Two huge bowling balls of green dung emerged from his wrinkly arse which was level with the water line and floated away. How handy for the elephant that he can shit and wash his arse at the same time.

I tried not to think about the Nam song river as a bidet for Heffalumps when I went for a swim later.

Desiccated monkey

crustyadventures — Sun, 27 Feb 2005 02:14:00 GMT

Yesterday, I saw a desiccated monkey lying on top of a mysterious pile roots, bark and leaves – the shop of a local herbalist layed out on a blanket in front of the post office. There were a dozen or so blankets offering grubby organic wares, but only 1 had a dried monkey. I wonder what ailment it’s meant to cure… Thoughts anybody?

Laos... land of going slowly

crustyadventures — Sat, 26 Feb 2005 02:15:00 GMT

Is it possible? At first glance, Laos seems spotless – devoid of the endless blue plastic bags that littler Cambodia from the temples, through the slums and down to the beaches. There’s a tidy town award here in the making !

The slow streets are edged by wider pavements – heavens, there’s even space between the dinner tables layed out along the Mekong banks in the night markets.

There are even more geckos climbing the walls to bark at each other and munch on mozzies. Ah ha! Maybe these rickety beer gardens overhanging the Mekong on a platform of stilts provide answers… Bigger river = bigger mosquitos.

And tiny frogs! Tiny, tiny little ones jumping about in front of the potted bouganvillea of a nearby guest house. I love frogs – hopefully I’ll get to love an elephant too as we head further north.

The Laotians are keeping to themselves for now. We’ve only had one offer of a “motorbiiii” and one for a tuk-tuk. At last, a modicum of peace. (I say that now… but just wait until I actually need that Moto ride somewhere – won’t be able to find one for love or money).

On The Box

crustyadventures — Fri, 25 Feb 2005 02:17:00 GMT

I didn’t expect to find myself watching TV in Cambodia… but the daily siesta forced upon us by cloying weather and heat radiating off at a nuclear temperature from the concreted roads and buildings, has us scuttling indoors for a few hours of relief.

Cable TV is such a novelty to me – 66 channels of … well, I don’t really know. At least 40 of them are totally unintelligable but mostly contain karaoke sing-a-longs or a brand new series of Monkey Magic (obviously still big in Asia!, but yet to hit Aussie screens).

As for English language channels, it’s really just as strange. STC and I were in fits yesterday watching the ‘Great Outdoor Games’ as over eager Americans in catalogue-perfect oufits competed with each other in favourite western pastimes such as competitive fly-fishing, long jumping for dogs and hot-saw wood chopping.

How you make a 15 minute spot out of fly-fishing is a miracle of modern television production… amp it up with excessive statistics and flaming, swirling logos and voila, a recognisable sports segment. What on earth do the Cambodian’s make of all this?

Health hazards to date

crustyadventures — Wed, 23 Feb 2005 02:18:00 GMT

Damn! That malaria pill is still in my pocket. I must take it sometime today. After all it cost me a small fortune to visit the GP and buy all the tablets – they came in very unhelpful packs of 7… The pharmacist presented me with about 11 little bottles to cover the 5-ish weeks away + the extra 4 or so weeks I need to take them when I return. ELEVEN bottles of pills – I really have no desire to look like a drug dealer in SE asia. Thank god – with a bit of persuasion – they all decanted into two tiny bottles.

A few days ago, I developed some kind of exotic rash on my fingers. White, bumpy pinhead spots. It’s only a little bit itchy, although I can make my hands feel like they could ignite like a blow torch if I do too much with them and pump the blood in vigourously (like stuffing things into my pack for half an hour). It’s intriguing more than worrying. I took an antihistime and will wait for it to pass.

These things are of no real concern… thinking of coming off a motorbike at pace however is a different matter. Let’s hope that our first aid kit which is bulging with new supplies finds no real use…

Bubble Tea

crustyadventures — Sat, 19 Feb 2005 02:23:00 GMT

Bubble tea is not a local delight that I’ll return for in a hurry. Just what are those globules of brown tacky goo at the bottom of my drink? Not unpleasant in flavour (not much flavour to describe really!); but the fact that they get sucked up the extra-wide plastic straw and shoot into your mouth with a gush of chocolate flavoured milky drink is rather alarming. I guess that I’m used to my food and liquid being separate experiences.

Artist In Residence, Sihanoukville

crustyadventures — Fri, 18 Feb 2005 02:40:00 GMT

Roger Dixon... artist in residence - at Coaster's Resort, a few doors down from 'the gallery'.

Roger was in Serendipity beach for several months on a painting trip of his own when he handed a brush over to some of the beach kids. Only a few days later, there were literally dozens of paintings. An organised local was charged with containing the kids, keeping the brushes clean and helping them use the paints (enamels for permanancy).

Then there was the question of where to put all the art that was mounting up in front of Roger's tiny bamboo bungalow. They decided to show it 'properly' in a gallery setting, framing each picture and hanging it on the walls of a tiny open-sided cafe so the whole beach crowd could come and look.

I don't think the cafe has a name... just wander to the north end of Serendipity Beach and ask about the kid's art.

Roger went back to the beach every couple of days with more paints and boards and at that point, realised that the project had taken on a life of it's own. We decided to join in and take the kids art out beyond the confines of Sihanoukville. Sam took photos before we left and now, weeks later, I'm here building a website. I wonder what's going on back at the beach and will write to Roger soon.

Kids Art Cambodia

crustyadventures — Fri, 18 Feb 2005 02:38:00 GMT

On the tropical beaches of Sihanoukville, Cambodia a bunch of kids have been given paint brushes and canvas for the first time in their lives. It's a small break from trying to earn a living selling fruit and collecting cans from the tourists on the beaches every day. It's a great scene as they giggle and jostle with each other to get to the colours; they look like kids having fun, not just working to stay alive.

The extraordinary thing about the pictures is how fresh their eyes are and how un-selfconscious the outpouring of art is.

This KidsArtCambodia site is to show you what they've been up to in a series of photo galleries and provide details so you can drop by Serendipity Beach and be a part of it too. For the kids and the transient tourist world they live in, a permanant record of their mark on the world is very hard to come by and very important for their self esteem.

Squid + noodles + soup

crustyadventures — Fri, 18 Feb 2005 02:23:00 GMT

The dish with no official name, not being on any menu – merely a concoction thown together by some generous women hosts at a small roadside cafe near the Ream naval base. They looked at us quizzickly when we asked for some food. The request was fine … but what kind of food did we want? Hmmm… good question – anything really. I was hungry after a two hour walk in the Ream national park to the top of Meditation Mountain…. but I just don’t have the Khmer words on the tip of my tongue for “I don’t mind, whatever you’ve got”.

A little girl comes over ‘Vous parlez Francais?’. ‘Un peu’ I say, indicating madly to STC that he should come over and trot out his superior schoolboy French skills to put in an order. Grandpa obviously holds the best foreign language skills with Colonial French and rises up from a hammock to give us a toothless grin. ‘Calamare?’ he suggests as cook reaches into an icebox and pulls out a cold fresh squid. Yes, yes! Somehow we also find words for soup and noodles. I’m not sure we meant to ask for all three things in a combo – it was just a suggestion for the kinds of food that we’d like.

These utterances are spurred on by a bubbling pot of broth a top a little cauldron of coals in the kitchen. Smells fantastic!

So all three ingredients are combined into a huge plate of food that arrives covered in the usual green finery, with lime wedges and chili on the side.

Save for the slurping from STC and I and mutterings of laughter (at us) from the table of navy officers, there’s not much background noise. How far away from Phnom Penh this feels!

Today’s quest out of town has turned out marvellously… in so many ways.

[Ream, just South of Sihanoukville, Cambodia]

Still-green coconuts

crustyadventures — Thu, 17 Feb 2005 02:24:00 GMT

Still-green coconuts have their heads and bottoms lopped off so they can sit comfortably on the small table whose legs disappear into the sand on this beach.

The top is shaved off to leave a little round flap at the top of a gentle peak of softly fibered husk. Lifting the flap reveals soft, white coconut meat, so young and tender as to taste nothing like a coconut. I pierce this with a straw and find inside a huge well of clear liquid that’s cool. I’m not sure what it tastes of. I’d expected to find something slightly greasy, resembling coconut milk from a can, Is this the same as thinking that milk comes from a dairy factory, rather than a real cow? I’m not sure I like it either, but I’m happy to pay my 0.75cents just for the view from this low slung beach chair across Serendipity Beach.

Market Yum-Yums

crustyadventures — Tue, 15 Feb 2005 02:25:00 GMT

It’s inevitable that one of my travel obsessions to make it in words in going to be food. Cambodia does not disappoint on this front and i’ll need to upload some photos to bring all the colour to life. This is just a small snippet from a market foray this morning…

I’ve never been one to shy away from a roadside stall selling interesting local delights. Thanks to a cast iron constitution, I generally find that as long as it’s freshly cooked, I can eat almost anywhere without fear. The last time I had the squits (as STC calls them), was after an extravagant and rich French meal in Sydney where I was way too indulgent with the butter and cream overload.

Breakfast this morning was far from rich… we wandered into the Russian Market in Phnom Penh and plonked ourselves down at a table. The girls in the kitchen were giggling a bit at me and pointing at their faces. Yep, it’s not the first time that my freckles have been a source of great amusement. I pointed back – but this time at the steaming cauldrons of broth and rice noodles and held up two fingers. Ah ha, a moment of understanding…

Two bowls arrive heaped with noodles, a few bits of meat (I can’t be sure exactly of the type!), coriander and finely chopped spring onions. Beside that, more little bowls with stuff to sprinkle – bean sprouts, chilli pastes and a wedge of lime to set off the salty soup.

This is my idea of a really good time.