The Trip - Part V

Luang Prebang - is it just me or does that seriously sound like a name of a place made up by a 5 year old? Never the less, this is where we spend the next leg our journey.

On arrival in Laos, Geoff and George get waved through (probably because of George's wheelchair) and the girls and I are left to fill in 5 long forms before queueing behind the multitude of tourists, all holding their forms plus passport photos. Hmmm. We have no such photos. I think I missed that detail which I later find in the small print of our itinerary. As it transpires, should you ever happen to be in that part of the world, it's not essential to have a passport photo, you can (thank god!) pay an addition US buck per person and they copy the one in your passport. Phew! So after a long wait fuelling some unnecessary anxiety, we're finally issued with visas and admitted into Laos.

The first evening is magic as we meet up with close friends from Sydney for dinner. Just not enough time, but loved every minute at a fancy-pants restaurant (well, fancy-pants by Laos standards anyway).

The next day, yes, more wats...ahhhh! And that's where the picture of that toilet comes in. E had the worst runny bottom (and we've had lots over our years of travel). She's complaining of feeling sick and of course as you know, my sympathy runs deep so I say for god's sake pull yourself together and get in that van. So she does.

We arrive at the first wat - and she needs to go. Like, right now. We're directed to that toilet. Armed as I traditionally am with a roll of toilet paper and a packet of wet wipes wrapped in a hotel shower cap (yes, that too can be handy in moments like these - happy to explain if necessary -drop me a line) we survive. We get back to the wat...and George needs to go. OMG. Eighteen years old, taller than me by a long shot, unable to even stand on his own - and a filthy squat toilet our only option.

Geoff and I make our way through the building rubble back to that toilet, strip poor G from the waist down, support him from either side, position him over the drop and in that split second, he lets a huge one go. Geoff and I are practically high-fiving each other we're so proud. I don't think I could have felt more satisfied if I'd dropped that myself!!!

Back to the tour....E's feeling like crap (pardon the pun) and George has had enough so Geoff and I and Sass walk to the top of the giggle-inducing Mt Phou Si (pronounced Pussy). I buy Sass three small finches in a bamboo cage to release for good luck. Those birds ain't silly and I suspect they've been caged and released more times that I've had hot dinners!!

Next time.... the strange courting rituals of the Laos hill tribes....

The Trip - Part III

After the spiders, the rest of our time in Phnom Penh was sobering. 

We toured S21, the Tuol Sleng prison, now a genocide museum, which contains hundreds of photos of  inmates, all staring directly into the camera and giving you the sense that they're holding your gaze as you try to imagine what was going through their mind at that moment. The Khmer Rouge was nothing if not thorough with their documentation and the journalists who captured the images of the horror after the Vietnamese liberated Cambodia from the terrifying regime, brave and determined the world should have the evidence that this did happen. Of the 16,000 people who entered the prison and were brutally tortured, in some instances for crimes as benign as being labelled an intellect for wearing glasses, a mere 14 survived. We were privileged to meet two of them at the prison – and naturally I had to buy their relatively expensive books, but they were a worthwhile personal and moving account.

Then on to The Killing Fields of Choeung Ek and the glass tower erected in 1988 that contains over 8,000 skulls found in the surrounding mass graves. I’ll spare you the stories they share but I will say that for a tourist destination, it is a very, very quiet place.

We steady ourselves with a drink at the Foreign Correspondents Club, overlooking the Tonle Sap river before a stroll along the foreshore among the elderly European men negotiating deals and slipping into taxis with aging Cambodian hookers. Maybe they’re on the early bird special as it wasn’t even 7pm.

It’s Christmas day and we’re on a boat to Siem Reap. It sounded like such an adventure – it turns out to be like a long bus ride. We arrive later than expected so our guide here suggests a reshuffle in the itinerary, and a visit to a local orphanage after a late lunch.

The kids are gorgeous – I just want to take them home! – but instead we blow up the inflatable balls we’ve brought for them and our kids join in the games while we chat to the supervisors about their support, the kids schooling etc. It was a good reminder that Christmas is about joy - not a heap of landfill disguised as presents. We make a donation and round up the kids (just ours!) before heading back to the hotel.