For some reason, G Adventures, our tour company, had us ride a bus from Phnom Penh to Siam Reap for six hours plus.
In case you are wondering, you can fly on Cambodian Angkor Air one-way for $82 dollars, with a flight time of 50 minutes. So, why didn't we do that? I have no theory, because no matter what the bus cost per person, there is no way there's more than a fifty dollar difference per person to save five-six hours on a bus.
Well, we did do four interesting things whilst on the bus:
- Stopped at a family of silversmith's shop in a village off the beaten path.
- Ate crickets and tarantulas at a rest stop.
- Watched a funeral procession go by while viewing an old school way to make sticky rice.
- Figure out how not to die after the air conditioning went out by opening all the windows and having moving hot air hit us, rather than stale hot air.
To be fair to G Adventures and Bun, the fourth item listed above was not part of the itinerary, but the heat did suck the life out of us, so we had that going for us. Carol and I both choose poorly, as we sat on the side of the bus the sun was beating down, just to make the experience that much more special.
Until the a/c went out, I was doing some blogging (writing to then cut and paste) or choosing and editing photos for the blog, as well as breaking up the drive with some reading. The bus company did send another smaller bus with working air conditioning to pick us up, so we did have the first several hours and last hour with a/c.
The silversmith stop wasn't my thing, but I did find it interesting passing through a small river town. Kids weren't jaded by tourists in their town -- they were delighted to see us and fist bumps, high fives, and waves were exchanged. Dogs roamed the streets, and it was pretty clear most of the mutts weren't strays.
We got a demonstration of the various metals they work with, including silver, copper, and bronze (I'm pretty sure -- although I could have one of those wrong).
Pat in the village, having some
rando Cambodian fruit (I just
don't remember the name).
Chopping some food during a cart sale.
A small feeder river runs through it.
A vintage motorcycle. It may look like a
beater, but it can probably get you all
across Southeast Asia.
The silversmith sales pitch.
Across the Mekong to
a view of a mosque.
A craftsman at work.
After the demonstration, the group flocked to the displays to buy stuff. Using the spousal division of labor that works for us, I wandered around taking photos while Carol shopped (to be fair, Carol is NOT a huge shopper, but she was interested in the jewelry.
Our next stop was at a rest area where the attraction (besides toilets) were fried crickets and tarantulas. I was eating an ice cream when we went to the trays of "proteins you never thought you would eat." I did have a cricket, but I didn't join the other guys in having a tarantula.
Timon and Pumba are wrong -- fried bugs don't "taste like chicken" and they aren't "slimy yet satifying." Frankly, other than an oddly satisfying crunch to them, the crickets really didn't taste like anything -- pretty bland. I do regret not having a tarantula, as that pretty much gives you bragging power to compete with any other weird foods people have eaten on their travels around the world.
Ron, Pat, and Vale all ate both crickets and tarantulas. Becky and Vicki also may have eaten both (I'm pretty certain they had the crickets at the least). Next time I'm in Cambodia I will definitely eat a tarantula.
Bun chowing down on his tarantula.
Ladies, how is this man still
single? I'm mean, look at that
smile! Surely you can fix
him up with a friend! Just
because he's had two
girlfriends were marriage
was expected doesn't mean
Bun's jinxed, it just seems
that way! (We kid because
we love!)
A heaping helping of tarantula. Soon,
everyone will be eating them.
Not as dramatic, but still, it's
probably one more cricket
than you've eaten.
Bun enjoyed telling us how they harvest crickets and tarantulas. Remember, in Southeast Asia people eat these because there is a shortage of protein, so the next time your kids complain "there's nothing to eat," fry them up some crickets and tarantulas.
When you tell your kids what you are making them, their response will be crickets. (Yes I wrote the "there's nothing to eat" sentence up just so I could use the "crickets" line.)
Our last planned stop was to watch sticky rice being made over a fire inside bamboo poles -- the old school way. Also called "kralan" by Cambodians, "it is made by roasting a mixture of glutinous rice, black-eyed peas or beans, coconut milk, grated coconut and palm sugar in bamboo tubes over a fire for around 90 minutes. Kralan is often eaten at Chinese and Khmer New Year." (Section in quotes copied/pasted from Wikipedia.)
During that display, we started to hear wailing music (not anywhere near as good as Waylon musiccoming from up the road. As it moved every so slowly closer, it was clearly a funeral
dirge coming across crappy loudpeakers.
But the procession was something else. First came the hearse, then came
truckloads of people, including many kids, dressed in their school uniforms.
We surmised the deceased was a teacher/school administrator just based on the
inclusion of so many kids in the procession.
It was fun to watch, and many kids and adults joyfully waved to us as we stood by
the side of the road watching. We happily waved back.
Old school making of sticky rice.
These vehicles are all part of
the funeral procession. The
music sounded like I was singing
(I'm a terrible singer) and being
strangled at the same time,
except worse.
It was an interesting tableau, a glimpse into a world very different than the one weknow.
And finally, after sweating in the bus a bit longer, the other bus met us. It was
shorter than the one we had started out in (of course, a short bus was probably
appropriate for this crew), but at least the air conditioning worked, unlike our AC at
the hotel in Siam Reap. But that's a story for another day, and might not even
get told.
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