Ecrivain sans frontières

Driving from Finland to Thailand

karsoe — Tue, 1 Mar 2011 13:21:00 GMT

So after reading the preceding post, you may well ask, “What the hell are you doing in Vang Vieng then?”

Fair enough.

I never had any intention of visiting the town, and was in fact planning on heading directly from Luang Prabang to Vientiane. But then I met Jussi, who is involved in a pretty cool adventure.

Jussi and Jani, two young guys from Finland, are driving a bus from Salo to Bangkok, and then on to Indonesia and Australia.

I bumped into Jussi at the Blue Ice Bar in Luang Prabang on Sunday night. Over a few beers, he told me about his adventure. He and his friend Jani, along with Tomas, got ahold of an old touring bus and decided to take it on an extended road trip.

“Do you have anything planned for the next couple of days?” Jussi asked me.

I had to confess that I didn’t. He then asked if I wanted to accompany them on the rest of the Laos leg of their trip, which was to Vang Vieng and then on to Vientiane.

Maybe it was the beer talking, but I readily agreed. Despite my misgivings about Vang Vieng, I thought that it might be at least an interesting place to look at. And it turned out, as I wrote earlier today, that it’s not quite the twatpacker hellhole I was expecting.

There’s a website to keep people informed of their travels. It’s mostly in Finnish, so anyone not au fait with the lingo will need to do a rough translation. They also have a map linked to a GPS tracker on the bus, and they’ve also set up a Facebook page.

The trip from Luang Prabang took a lot longer than it should’ve, but it was an interesting time anyhow. Particularly when we had to take an extended stop for some emergency repairs, and a busload of Westerners was quite a novelty for the kids in the school we were parked near. And the scenery was incredible.

Lia Sen Hauy, Proteh Kampuchea

karsoe — Sat, 5 Feb 2011 16:10:00 GMT

(Farewell, Cambodia.)

I've spent 304 days in the Kingdom, but now it's time to move on. My time here has been mostly amazing and joyful, occasionally sad and heartbreaking, but always educational and interesting.

I've seen and done so many incredible things:

- visited the temples at Udong

- seen the old French colonial village at Phnom Bokor

- photographed the sunrise at Angkor Wat

- called into a number of orphanages and seen the beautiful resilient spirit of kids who've been through much more than I have

- taken a ride on the bamboo railway in Battambang

- taken drunken night-time dips in the river off the pontoon at Bodhi Villa in Kampot

- watched the sun set over the Tonle Sap river from the deck at Maxine's Bar in Phnom Penh

- cheated death on too many motodops and tuktuks to count (not to mention the buses)

- been almost deafened by car and bus horns and market vendors and karaoke and seemingly never-ending drum & bass

- learned of the horrors of Tuol Sleng and Cheoung Ek (not a fun thing, but I think a necessary thing if you want to get some understanding of the history of Cambodia)

- eaten deep-fried crickets and spiders

- seen the land development at Beoung Kak cause entire communities to collapse (sometimes literally)

- taken a swim among the phosphorescent plankton off Koh Tonsay

- done a lot of writing, and taken about five shitloads of photos

- shown my parents and a couple of good friends around this beautiful country that I love so much

- met some of the friendliest people I've encountered anywhere. The people of Cambodia need to ensure that their country steals the "Land Of Smiles"™ title from Thailand as Cambodia is far more deserving of that label.

I've run into a few people I didn't get on all that well with, but even they taught me quite about about the world, life, and so forth.

I've seen hope and despair and sunshine and darkness, often in the same moment. I can safely say that the past ten months has been the most rewarding I've ever had.

Thank you to everyone I've met here. You've enriched my life somehow, or at least in some way have taught me something.

See you soon.

24½ Days of Trying to Get My Shit Together

karsoe — Wed, 1 Dec 2010 13:32:00 GMT

PHNOM PENH, CAMBODIA – What was meant to be “30 days of literary abandon” turned out to not really work out so well. My final wordcount was about half of what it should’ve been. I won’t go into the specific reasons why, what with this not being MySpace and me not being 16-years old, but it did involve at least one broken heart.

Having your heart broken = #nanowrimo fail. Sorry, 2010. Maybe next year. – Me on Twitter, Nov. 24 2010

Instead, I went on a quick mission down to Kampot where I drank way too much and was almost robbed. I also went on a quick jaunt over to Koh Tonsay (or Rabbit Island), which is what I’d imagine Koh Phangan to look like 25 years ago. Idyllic, basic, with bamboo huts and electricity only between 6 PM and 10 PM, and skinny-dipping in amongst phosphorescent plankton.

Unfortunately, the people I met up with were mostly short-timers, which is not really a criticism as such, but there are only so many backpacker-centric conversations that I can bear (where’s cheaper, where’s the biggest party, where’s the hottest babes, what’s the best deal to Sihanoukville, etc.) They were good people, and I’m glad for their company. I just wish that I’d been able to be better company.

I then returned to Phnom Penh and continued to drink too much, despite knowing that alcohol does not soothe a sore heart (particularly given the goings-on within my brain).

And then, on November 22, there was the terrible stampede near Koh Pich (Diamond Island) in Phnom Penh, right near Naga World Casino, which resulted in approximately 350 deaths. The following Thursday I went to the bridge where the stampede happened and took some photos of the commemorative service being held there. After knowing what this country has been through in my lifetime, it was a very sad occasion. Fortunately for me, everyone I know in Phnom Penh is safe and well.

I also got into a nasty headspace cycle early in the month. It is frighteningly easy to do in Cambodia. I like to think that I’m a somewhat sensible person, and that comparison is easy to make when you see some of the people around Phnom Penh, for whom breakfast beers or a shot of something in their morning coffee is a standard start to the day. Anyhow, my mood would’ve also done fuck-all for my writing even without the broken heart. Eventually, I managed to eradicate some newly-found bad habits and even cut back significantly on the caffeine (!!) and have been sleeping reasonably well. I’ve also been having some very vivid and image-filled dreams. My subconscious seems to be speaking to me more clearly, and I seem to be able to understand it more fully.

Yesterday I returned from a very quick trip to Battambang to assist a friend with the filming of a documentary for HOPE for Cambodian Children. I managed to get a few photos as well.

I’ve changed my plans a few times, and things right at this moment are a bit up in the air for me. I still want to keep on writing, and have had my planned several weeks away from Oceans Of Venus now. The project I started for NaNoWriMo 2010 was going to be a crime thriller set in Cambodia, it then morphed into a blokey and quite hedonistinc version of Eat, Pray, Love, but then it stalled completely. I don’t think what I’ve written is utter shite, but it’s not too good either.

And now it’s December. I’m still going with the flow.

All Aboard the Battambang Bamboo Express

karsoe — Tue, 13 Jul 2010 04:32:00 GMT

BATTAMBANG, CAMBODIA – With the upgrade of the rail line which runs between Battambang and Phnom Penh, a testament to Cambodian ingenuity will soon come to an end.

The bamboo train, a homebrew rail service that provides transport between many of the villages around Battambang, is scheduled to be stopped next month.

The villagers took it upon themselves to get around the problem of transporting goods and people by taking over the disused rail track running through the villages. A group of people began building their own platforms made of bamboo and wood, attaching wheels from old tanks, and running them along the track.

Previously, these bamboo platforms were powered by someone using a pole to push it along the track. These days, locomotion is provided by a small 5 horsepower motor connected to the rear set of wheels by a fan belt.

The bamboo train (each vehicle known locally as a “norry”) moves not-so-smoothly along the dilapidated track at up to 40 km/h. Locals use the norrys to transport livestock and grain to market, or to their homes. It’s become quite a tourist attraction, with visitors enjoying the scenic ride as well.

Given the number of norrys travelling on the single line, a system of etiquette has arisen when two norrys travelling in the opposite direction meet.

The norry with a lighter load is picked up off the track o the heavier-laden norry can continue on. The pilot of the more loaded norry helps to take the lighter one off the track and put it back on again.

Despite the stretch of track (which goes all the way to Phnom Penh) being one of few sections of rail to survive the Khmer Rouge regime, it’s in very shoddy shape. Much of the track is warped, and the joins are so rough that running over them can be a boneshaking experience. Until November 2008, there was a proper train service between Phnom Penh and Battambang. However, the track is in such disrepair that the 275 kilometer journey could take up to 14 hours. A slow train indeed. The service has been cancelled, probably because of the disintegration of the track, but also due to the impending repair work that will allow regular trains to run at a more regular speed.

Unfortunately for the villagers around Battambang, such progress will mean and end to their ad hoc transport system. A small norry construction industry has sprung up, and there are numerous small stores along parts of the track that act as rest stops for norry passengers and their drivers.

Oun and his wife Sem run one such stall about 7 kilometers from “norry central”, where most visitors catch the bamboo train. They offer shade and cool refreshments to travellers.

Given the highly unofficial status of the bamboo railway, it’s inevitable in a way that it would one day finish. However, it’s sad to see something this unique (not to mention useful to the local people as well as providing jobs for many) come to an end.

Photos: Red Shirts, 2010

karsoe — Wed, 19 May 2010 22:27:00 GMT

Photos of Red Shirt protesters taken in Bangkok during the 2010 unrest.

Welcome To The Boomtown

karsoe — Thu, 8 Apr 2010 13:38:00 GMT

SIEM REAP, CAMBODIA – A lot can happen in five years. If I look at my own life, I can see so many changes within me that it’s hard for me to really believe that I went through them.

Imagine what five years can do to a town 12 kilometers from the largest religious building in the world, and possibly the greatest tourist attraction in Southeast Asia.

When I drove into Siem Reap under cover of darkness last night, I honestly thought I was in a different town. The street was lined with more five-star resorts than I’ve seen in a lifetime. If you can’t check your email or get a meal in Siem Reap, you’re really not trying because the main street seems to be solely taken up with Net access places and restaurants. And guesthouses, of course.

Not being able to find the night market would be difficult…

There are more money exchange kiosks and mobile phone stores per square kilometer than anywhere else in Indochina. Other than providing lodgings for those who wish to explore the ruins of Angkor, Siem Reap’s other major industry is the fish massage.

Fortunately, tourism has not transformed the town into a copy of Pattaya or Khao San Road. There is a nightlife here, but it’s restricted to about 300m along what’s known as Pub Street. Hence, if the whole party scene isn’t your bag, it’s pretty easy to avoid.

Break On Through To The Other Side

karsoe — Wed, 7 Apr 2010 21:59:00 GMT

Your Possible Pasts

karsoe — Sat, 3 Apr 2010 13:41:00 GMT

BANGKOK, THAILAND – Since deciding to take a small side-trip back to Kanchanaburi before I go to Cambodia, I’ve been thinking a lot about the past, the future, what shapes us, what guides us.

Sorry, but I’m no closer to having a coherent answer, despite the Chang.

There’s been talk of widespread Red Shirt protests around Bangkok, but there’s little evidence of it in my enclave of writing and beer and Thai soap operas on the nearby TV. Instead, I consciously sealed myself away to work on the novel I started last November during NaNoWriMo. I’ve not left my guesthouse all day except to go to a café to leech off their free WiFi and have an iced coffee to make it look like I’m not a total sponge. It was actually a pretty damn cool way to spend the day, especially when you don’t have to go far for food and drink[1].

As I typed away and sipped at 6.4% strength beer[2], I marvelled at how little I think Bangkok, or at least this area of it, has changed. It’s almost as though the area around Thanon Khao San has reached it’s saturation point a several years ago, that is simply cannot cater to the tastes of the backpacker crowd any further than it has since at least before 2004 (which was when I first set foot in the middle of this craziness, but probably earlier). The only thing that seems to have changed are the prices, and even that has been such a slight upward shift that it barely registers to someone from the West.

Its been fun to sit here and write and see the various travellers come in, from the Thailand trail veterans who’ve been swinging through this country for decades to the utter newbies with stars in their eyes and the desire for ludicrously cheap alcohol in their hearts. Even though this is only my second time here, I feel like a veteran myself. I can’t really explain what it is, but there’s something that I’ve absorbed unconsciously, by osmosis almost, that seems to set me apart from most of the other Westerners in this area. I’m not hassled by tuktuk drivers, tailors and various touts to anywhere near the same degree as the majority of non-Thais. It reminded me of how I was left completely unhassled by all the transport and accommodation touts near Psar Thmei in Phnom Penh when I stepped off the bus there in late July last year.

It’s obvious just by looking at me that I’m an outsider. It doesn’t matter how well I speak the language or how accustomed I become to their various forms of etiquette and social order, I will always be farang. But what I can do it try to display a modicum of cultural sensitivity, unlike a lot of the Westerners I’m currently surrounded by.

The problems that I have with Bangkok in particular do not stem from anything inherent. Yes, it’s a hot humid tangled polluted chaotic loud city. So is Sydney, depending on the time of year. No, what I dislike are the tourists. Hence, it’s time for me to go.

First, though, I have to revisit the town where I met Jen. I don’t know why. All I know is that my heart is telling me to go back. I don’t know what’s there. Maybe nothing. But I feel as though I can’t go to Cambodia before I go back to the place where my life took a different turn all those years ago.

——
[1] – The coffee, unfortunately, leaves a lot to be desired…

[2] – Chang, the Thai word for elephant, so named in my opinion because it can knock the arse off a concrete one.

I Gotta Roll, Can’t Stand Still…

karsoe — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 13:50:00 GMT

SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA – I’m back in the Big Smoke after spending a few days dropping off things and visiting family around various points of NSW. Roughly 1100 kilometers over two days, with a bit of a break in Albury. And all of this is before I head back to Southeast Asia.

I spent most of last weekend (March 13 and 14) gathering all my possessions into a relatively centralised pile and then an unreasonable part of Monday morning squeezing the majority of that pile into a car not at all suited for transporting such a vast quantity of shit.

I then pointed the car due south along the M5 and left Sydney, bound for Albury.

The 540 kilometers of road between my (now former) residence and my parents’ joint is a very smooth, straight, unsurprising stretch known as the Hume Freeway. It continues beyond Albury, over the border between New South Wales and Victoria, and terminates in Melbourne. In times of yore it was the Hume Highway and served as the major trade route between the two cities. Many towns sprang up along the road to provide travellers with rest and food and drink along the lengthy journey.

Now, however, it’s an incredibly dull dual-lane divided road 110 km/h drive. Most of the towns have been bypassed, and roadworks are continuing. On the trip to Albury, one only passes through two towns now, those being Tarcutta and Holbrook. Before long, these two will also be skipped over for the sake of convenience.

Just outside Holbrook is Morrison’s Cafe, a sign out the front boasting “The Best Coffee On The Hume”. It’s a claim I’d promised myself I’d test one day, but Monday would not be it.

I arrived at my parents’ place in time for dinner, a quick unload of my car, and then some well-deserved kip.

As mum and dad are planning on popping over to Cambodia to visit me (much to my ongoing amazement), and because they’re also embarking on a 2-week tour of Vietnam beforehand (!!!), I thought some sort of accessible visual representation of the country might be fun for them to check out. Hence, Tuesday night’s entertainment consisted of mum, dad and I watching the Top Gear Vietnam special as an extremely basic primer on what the country is like now. Of course, the show doesn’t concentrate heavily on the history and a lot of stuff is glossed over, but I thought it might give them a flavour of what to expect. Even though it won’t. Because the place did my head in after 6 weeks of hanging around Thailand and Laos. All the same, they enjoyed it.

On Wednesday I drove a significantly emptier and much cleaner car from Albury to my sister’s place in Mollymook. Not being in a big rush, I took the time to finally stop off at Morrison’s Café and see how true their sign was. Unfortunately, it did not live up to the hype. I ditched the coffee after a few sips and continued on my way.

Because the Snowy Mountains are inconveniently placed, there are no reasonable roads or a very direct route between Albury and the south coast. This meant that I had to drive halfway back to Sydney before turning off the Hume and taking back roads south again to Bateman’s Bay, and then north again to Mollymook.

Throughout most of the day before, mum and dad tried to give me incredibly complex directions to help me negotiate the smaller roads from Yass to the coast. Replete as they were with advice to take the second left 2 kms. down this road, turn right at the first roundabout and make sure you’re in the far left lane on the Federal Highway to turn left 200 yards after getting off the road from Murrumbateman, etc., I elected to just follow the signs to Bungendore and then on to the Princes Highway.

The Kings Highway crosses the Great Dividing Range as it heads east, then drops down to the coast. The road winds through some beautiful forest and very hilly scenery, and it felt great to be actually driving a car through all the twists and rises and dips. After the very monotonous efficiency of the Hume Freeway, this was quite exciting.

Unfortunately, after getting to my sister’s place I was too exhausted to spend “quality time” with my niece and three nephews. Had I planned a little better, I would’ve arranged to spend a full day there with them because it’s going to be a long time until I see them again.

I did, though, finally manage to get a decent heads-up[1] on the political situation in Thailand at the moment. There are massive anti-government demonstrations in Bangkok which DFAT are concerned about. My main concern at the moment is the airport being overrun and closed down. Such things would knacker my plans. Fortunately, the protests are relatively peaceful right now. A good thing for me, but also a very good thing for the people of Thailand.

This morning I arose at 5:30 (also known as stupid o’clock) to catch the 6:30 bus from Mollymook back to old Sydney town. Unlike most buses I’d travelled on in the last few years, this one was devoid of Thai or Cambodian karaoke. Fortunately, it was also free of the last on-bus movie I had to sit through, Snakes On A Plane. Besides which, I was one of the youngest passengers on this trip, which was also not the case on most of the buses I took in southeast Asia.

I was very surprised at how quick the trip was. I was expecting it to take several hours, where I was in actually back in Sydney in time for lunch at one of my favourite Chinatown dim sim kitchens before catching the train back to my sort of former residence down near the airport.

I still have more possessions than I really feel as though I want, let alone need. There are a few things back at the flat that I couldn’t take with me due to a complete absence of room. I still have four days to sort out a few things, try and get rid of the excess still here.

After getting on the bus before dawn this morning, I settled down in my seat, moved my hat down over my eyes and sighed with contentment. I now finally feel like I’m actually travelling. I have no job, no car, just two bags, and I feel very peaceful if not outright happy.

——-
[1] – I had to watch it on Al Jazeera because the Western media is reporting jack shit.

Leaving Phnom Penh

karsoe — Sat, 15 Aug 2009 16:00:00 GMT

Contemplation in Cambodia

karsoe — Sun, 9 Aug 2009 03:17:00 GMT

PHNOM PENH, CAMBODIA - How can I write any more on the horrors of Tuol Sleng and Cheoung Ek? I've done so already, as have countless others. And they've done a far better job than me. I visited those placed for a second time recently. Their impact was not diminished by time or the fact that I knew what I was about to see. There are no further words (or photographs) that I could contribute.

Each time I come here I see things and hear stories of unimaginable terror. And then I see smiles of such heartfelt joy. I wonder how Cambodians can do that after all they've lost. Then I wonder how Westerners can't do that after all we have.

Tuol Sleng and Cheoung Ek are not tourist attractions. They are memorials to the extermination of Khmer culture and reminders of humanity's ability to be inhumane. Then, as I walk the streets of this city and see happy faces everywhere, monks and moto drivers and a celebration of all they had and lost and are now rebuilding.

I spent two days last week contributing in my own small way to that rebuilding process, thanks to the <a href="http://www.tabitha.org.au/cms/house-building.html">Tabitha Foundation</a>. It's something I wanted to do since my first visit to Cambodia in early 2005.

It will be hard to leave in six days. It will be hard to cope with the culture shock in Australia. Then again, it usually is.

Covering The Basics

karsoe — Fri, 7 Aug 2009 11:43:00 GMT

How's the serenity?

karsoe — Tue, 25 Mar 2008 13:46:00 GMT

This entry was originally conceived as a fairly detailed journal of my Easter break, three and a bit days I spent in Hill End, a small town west of Sydney.

I had first heard of Hill End via a friend of mine who had taken a small expedition out a couple of years ago. The name stuck with me as a place to visit sometime down the track.

Then earlier this year I stumbled across a review of an exhibition of photographs taken by a Hill End resident by the name of Bill Moseley. I went along to the exhibit and was amazed by his noirish, almost Lynchian visions of rural Australia.

So with Easter approaching, a few days off, and the burning desire to get the hell out of the city, I made a quick choice to just bugger off to this old mining town.

According to one website I found (but now cannot recall the URL for), “Hill End is no longer the tourist town it used to be.”

Thank God for that, thought I. It was my plan to go there for some rest, photography, and hopefully inspiration to kick off some writing.

Hill End spiked in population in the early 1870s, when the town of a few hundred residents exploded to nearly 8500 after large deposits of gold were found in the surrounding area. At it’s peak, there were 28 pubs in the town. After the gold ran out, it took less than fifty years for the population to dwindle to around 700.

During the boom times, there were many businesses doing a roaring trade. Places such as Condell’s Boot Mart, Hermann’s Tinsmith Premises, and Hart’s Tobacco Shop & Fancy Book Depot.

The place I thought sounded like a lot of fun to work at was Myer & Siefke’s Circulating Library, Shooting Gallery, Bowling Saloon & Tobacco Shop.

It’s a small place with only one public phone and minimal to non-existent mobile phone coverage (depending on who your carrier is).

There were, though, pockets of the trappings of civilisation…

During the few days at Hill End, I did indeed rest and get some great photos, but did not get as much writing done as I had hoped. I was greatly entertained by a group of Sydney lads on an annual Easter piss-up as they performed Arnold Schwarzenegger impressions. I bonded instantly with them when I produced an Arnie voice of my own. Several beers were consumed, and quite a few dollars found their way into the pub’s swear tin (proceeds going to the construction of a decent building to house the local Bush Fire Brigade). I met Len, a fellow in his 90s who could out-swear the entire United States Marine Corp. I suggested that his contribution to the swear tin would ensure that, when built, the Bush Fire Brigade building should be named after him.

And I got some shots of things other than highrise buildings or the ocean.

I grabbed a photo of Len, with his dog Snake, on the bonnet of Steve’s old EJ wagon.

This is an old church, denomination unknown, now privately owned. I thought it would make an amazing residence and studio.

And some fairly noir photos, inspired by the work of Mr Moseley…

More shots at my Flickr site, or at Red Bubble.