[just a quick note to let you all know: Ping Pong KaPow! has moved site, and can now be found at pingpongkapow.wordpress.com. Episodes 2 and 3 are up for your viewing pleasure (or otherwise)]
Week 30 - Bangkok, Thailand
REAL POVERTY: is something one sees fairly rarely, unless you go seeking it. Which makes Battambang all the more heartbreaking. Don't misunderstand me here; the grinding evidence of poverty in Cambodia is breathtaking in its pervasiveness, no matter which part of the country you're in. But in Battambang it hits you hardest, comes right up to your table at the run-down little food stand, dirty plastic bag in hand, begging for any scraps you may have left over, a sip of water, a cigarette. And that's just the kids.
Battambang was among the provinces hardest-hit by the Khmer Rouge, and among the current community polio is even more rampant than the land mines. This means many people between twenty and forty are amputees or cripples, and that people aged over forty are close to non-existent. We saw one older person the entire time we were there - a lady of about sixty begging for change from passersby. It can be a very depressing place, at times. Still, the people are very nice and easygoing, and the town itself is wide and pleasant. There aren't too many things in the world better than a morning stroll to the bakery for hot crusty baguettes, even if from the moment you buy them you are surrounded and assaulted by a scrum of street-children trying to get it straight out of your grubby, wealthy, suddenly-extremely-status-conscious hands.
Such grubby, guilty hands.
It rained constantly - not the usual, dreary, guy-in-the-street-pissing-on-an-old-mattress long-term rains we're used to, but a punishing, pummeling, endless tropical downpour, a sudden and infinite wipeout that killed the electricity supply and flooded the streets and made me wet myself in fear (allegedly). Wouldn't you know it - just when Captain Planet dubbed into Cambodian was going to come on TV, and the power goes. Of all the rotten luck...
During one of the brief periods of sunshine we jumped a tuk-tuk to a cave, twenty kilometres out of town, where the Khmer Rouge massacred some ten thousand of their coutrymen. We were advised against a tuk-tuk, but there were five of us (a couple of Canadians we'd met came along) and we thought it would be cheaper. Two kilometres from the town centre I finally bore witness to the roads Cambodia is infamous for, running past glorious rice fields through massive, freight-truck-swallowing mud holes, puddles that would eat you and everyone you care about, given half a chance. Those twenty kilometres took one and a half hours, each way. The tuk-tuk broke down after four kilometres, was repaired, and then came within fractions of a degree of overturning with all us in it. And then it happened again. And again. And we didn't even find the goddamn cave, after trekking up and down massive flights of stairs, having to bribe the tourist police, watching a French tourist being attacked by a monkey (to describe this I would require a word that means "scary and awesome at the same time"), coming to a mountaintop temple, and being stalked by a young Cambodian man asking for money (in appearance and speech he closely resembled Gollum from Lord of the Rings). And then we had to pile into the tuk-tuk and stave off vomiting for another one and a half hours.
Cambodia is so much fun.
The following day we headed out again, this time to the bamboo train, a small carriage made by villagers powered by a small lawnmower engine that runs up and down the (now disused) train tracks. There was a time when you could catch the contraption as far as Sisophon, near the Thai border. Now, according to the moto driver at our guesthouse, "you can only ride for to get your funnies" - it only runs for fifteen kilometres and is basically a tourist thing. But that doesn't stop it being goddamn fun. After that it was time to come back...
...to Bangkok. Yes, a mere three weeks after swearing that I would never return to this city, here I am. I should really avoid making bold pronouncements from here on out. Erin is working until next Wednesday, when she will abruptly leave her job forever (she has spent the last two weeks preparing 'fuck off and die' speeches for her boss of such length, complexity and profanity that my lower jaw has been constantly attached to the floor). Adam is gone already, and is currently living the sweet life in Chiang Mai. And I have my train booked for tomorrow, when I will shoot up to the old city of Phrae, with a moat and old cobblestone streets and a rare tribe of... [here Lachlan spends copious paragraphs making up details of a city he knows absolutely nothing about. He's basically going because he likes the name].
In the meantime, I'm trying to enjoy Bangkok, though all I seem to do is notice the massive mistakes I made last time around. For instance, here is a list of the reasons why the guesthouse Erin and I are staying at would have been a much, much better place to stay than our apartment:
*It's cheaper
*It has a free pool
*It has a free pool
*It has a free pool table
*It has a free gym
*It has a free laundry
*It has free internet
*It sells alcohol
*It has a book exchange
*It's full of cool people from around the world
*It's closer to where both Erin and I worked
*It has a good restaurant attached
*There are no group aerobics sessions next door playing retarded techno remixes of retarded Christmas songs
*Did I mention the group aerobics retards? Those guys were retards.
Ah well. What that saying the French have? Pont neuf monsieur Gerard Depardieu baguette bonjour piscine avec allez croissant. That's not actually a saying, just a bunch of French words that I know. Next week may finally see us all being cold enough to wear a jumper at night, or even use a blanket while sleeping. Or maybe it'll be much the same. For the answers to these and other essential questions of life, tune in next week. Same juicy time, same juicy channel.
Hope you're well,
Lachie
