Chip In or Else

These days, you don't need a chip on your shoulder to travel, but you had better have one in your wallet when visiting many countries. When we were in Cambodia in 2008, we went to a lovely restaurant that took credit cards. 

After an outstanding, but still relatively inexpensive meal, I whipped out my credit card to pay the bill. I had not visited an ATM, so we were cash poor at the moment, but credit rich. The server took the credit card only to return moments later to say the card would not work. Assuming the company did not read the memo that we were traveling, I just handed over another card. Without leaving the table, the server said "This card will not work either." Not sure if we had met a Cambodian fortuneteller or what the story was, I asked innocently "How do you know this?" 

It seems Cambodia, back in 2008, had changed over the credit card system to the microchip embedded cards. Their machine was only capable of reading the chip. Swiping the card was not an option. 

Having read about this issue occurring in Europe, the thought that it would happen in Cambodia never surfaced in my wildest dreams. Still, what I had read was to tell the creditor to call in for authorization. There was no getting around this issue; the restaurant people were not willing to comprise on our using our credit card. When they finally accepted the fact that we did not have enough cash between us, they suggested we return the next day with the full amount owed. Refusing even partial payment, they sent us on our way.

The next day, we arrived around noon to pay our debt; we had to get to the airport. They were closed, even with the hours showing a lunch service was possible. We left the money with the business next door, hoping for the best. 

Now in 2014, I just read the article Don’t be a chip-and-pinhead! by Christopher Elliott where he had problems on a motorway when approaching the Europabrücke or Europe Bridge. When he went to pay the toll, the machine would not accept his non-chip US credit card.

This made me check my credit cards. I have a Citibank Visa, CapitolOne MC, and 3 different Amex cards, but the only card with a chip is the Diners Club/Mastercard. I never leave home without it, because it gives me access to Diners Club lounges in airports around the world. There are some really unexpected places where they have fabulous lounges. The $95 membership fee pays for itself, plus I get airline miles for any purchases. When we are at home, I keep it for emergencies. 

Check for chips before leaving home. More and more places here are using the chip cards and much of the rest of Europe is too.

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The Delancey Street Foundation - Current TV

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Mysterious Knocker Part 2: For Real This Time

The knock on the door occurred again this morning, but this time we could not send him away to get more sleep. We had a flight from Hanoi to Kuala Lumpur at 9:15 and the airport is over an hour away.

The taxi was on time and started the meter as we arranged ourselves in the cab, but I told him the hotel had paid for the trip. He asked for a receipt, but Ron had seen the clerk hand him a paper already. I told him to turn around and get it from the hotel if he did not have it, because we were not paying the bill. Miraculously, he continued to drive on.

We had paid for Express boarding, but had no clue what it meant. Checking in was a breeze and Air Asia was again great. We boarded first with express boarding directly into the plane getting to choose our seats first and first shot at the overhead storage. Our luggage weight was not an issue, which was a relief. The flight took off on time and we arrived ten minutes early. The landing was the smoothest we have had in years.

From the airport, we took the bus shuttle directly to our hotel for 15 Ringgits each, a real bargain. The hotel clerk remembered us and welcomed us back apologizing for not having the same room available. We immediately took our dirty clothes to the laundry service next door to pick up tomorrow, so when we get home, we will only have one shirt each that needs to go into the wash.

Not having a really good coffee since we left Siem Reap, we had to go to Starbucks for a caffeine fix. We did head back to the mall that had the large white Christmas tree to see if it still graced the lobby, but it was gone. The Chinese Lunar New Year starts on January 18^th and the whole mall is decorated in red and gold in anticipation. If you look at my photos, the changes are dramatic. If you want to see my albums, send me an e-mail to drryanjames@gmail.com.

Our enthusiasm is not what it was a month ago and although there are a couple of things we would like to see here, we only have tomorrow. If we see them, fine, but if we don’t, oh well. After being gone a month, our thoughts about tourism transpire from we have to see it all to whatever we see and do is fine. Touring around is work. Being a tourist is mind bending. Not only to you have to transform your thinking to the language differences, but the culture, the food, and a real obstacle is transportation once you hit the ground. It has not been easy getting from one place to another, but it has been an experience that I probably would not have given up when all is said and done. It helped me grow as a person to see what others have to survive with in a microscopic piece of their daily lives making me feel fortunate for living in Budapest.

The WiFi is not working at our hotel, so we have not been able to download mail or post my writing, so we will have to make a trip to Starbucks tomorrow where they have free WiFi at everyone of the 150 stores in the country.

The major difference being back here as opposed to Cambodia or Vietnam, is prosperity. More people are better off here than in the other countries. Malaysia had embraced technology and it has worked for the masses. No one here is hounding us to buy books, cigarette lighters, fruit, combs, bracelets, jewelry of any kind, or offering us rides in their cyclo (there are no tuk-tuks or cyclos here). No one is asking us where we are from, how old we are, or if we have children. The culture shock continues with the majority of women wearing head coverings. Then there is the weather. It is so much hotter and humid here. Just as we were entering the city, the clouds opened up and it poured a torrential rain. Thinking this would relieve the humidity, when it stopped, it was only successful in creating a city steam bath. You can almost see the steam rising from wet pedestrians as the sun is now drying their clothing.

Similarities do exist, each restaurant you pass has someone trying to get you into their door and massage parlors are everywhere outnumbering the number of tourists in any of the countries. Full body massages run on the average of $6.00 for an hour, the same for a foot/leg massage also. From what we can see, they are all legitimate massages, but it goes without saying there are probably other types available also, but not for this writer for sure.

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Ho Chi Minh City

One of the restaurants in the next alley over has free WiFi, so we decided to have breakfast there and check e-mails, pay bills, and other mundane things. The place was empty with the exception of one young man, yet six of the booth tables had laptops on them, opened and running. I could not believe the bad luck not being able to find a table where there was a plug available. The hostess came running out of the kitchen to sit us, competition is tough for patrons. She pointed to a table occupied by a laptop and I asked if it was okay. When she said it was, I realized that since they offer free WiFi, they also offer computers in order to access it. All six of the computers on the tables belonged to the restaurant as their bargaining chip for getting customers.

The plugs throughout Vietnam and Cambodia are European style plugs, while Malaysia has British style; however, here they are all as loose as an old bitch after birthing six unwanted litters. Besides the plug, you need a 2 by 4 to hold it in. The plug has to dangle just so in the outlet in order for an actual electric connection to be made. After fiddling with one for a good three minutes, I asked Ron to try, but the only way we could get it to work is if he held it. For some reason he was not willing to be bent over holding it for the forty-five minutes I would need it just so. My battery was already evaporated, no juice was left. A plug was essential. Then it occurred to me that if their laptop was plugged in, I could most likely use that plug. After asking, I cut the power to their machine and powered up my own. Finishing up, we dropped the computer off at our hotel and we were off for discovering.

It was not a terribly eventful day. We went to one of the major markets that covers one full city block. They sell everything from raw materials for making your own clothes, to touristy souvenirs and restaurant are serving food. If you are a tourist, you are like highly prized beef. Each stall will call you over, ask what you want to buy today, or many have the give of prophecy to automatically have a shirt, underwear, pants, t-shirt or belt already in their hands telling you this is what you have come for. If you smile and say “No, thank you” or “just looking”, they start getting aggressive. These mostly young women will grab your shirt, your arm, or your pant leg if you are tall enough and they are sitting on the floor at the time to get your attention to show you their full selection of wares. If what they have in their hand is not to your liking, chances are they have something you will find desirable if only you give them the chance.

Ron was looking for a muslin pullover V-neck and I happened to spot one, but it was embroidered. I made the mistake of making eye contact and now the race was on. Not only did I have the two women at the current booth all over me like white on rice, but every woman at every booth within earshot knew there were potential consumers within radar range. We were like trapped animals. The woman first showed us to shirt I did not like for him in his size, so then we asked if they had it plain without the embroidery. They did. One woman actually held my arm while the other went looking for it, lest I should escape during this diversion. When the ‘perfect’ shirt was produced, Ron was flipped around like a store dummy to see if the shoulders were the right size. They were cookin’ on full steam and there was no stopping them now.

The next factor was bargaining the price. When they suggested some ridiculous price, I told them for that much we would grow our own cotton, run it through a cotton mill, spin it, weave it and have it hand sewn for cheaper. Instead of lowering the price, they return with “How many do you want to buy?” Not being taken in by the discount for quantity trick, we said just one. The floor of the New York Stock Exchange has less bargaining done than we did with these two. Finally, I suggested Ron leave it behind to think about whether or not he really wanted it or not. He has had the idea for this shirt for over a year and each time we have come across one, he has negated it. We left them pleading with us to remember their stall was 116 and a price tag of 150,000 Dong, less than $10.00.

As we tried leaving the narrow aisle overflowing with merchants and merchandise, the smell of money was in the air and we were wanted bounty. We were grabbed, seized, snatched at, mauled, and man handled. The only thing we were not offered was someone’s first born child. We made our escape.

Many countries we have traveled to have had people who are poor or those that are out to scam try to sell us everything and anything, use emotional blackmail, or just pester us to distraction, but this is the worst we have dealt with. We continued walking and came across a pleasant young man with his sidewalk stand set up. He makes pop-up cards that he hand cuts and arranges. One card may open to a multicolored lotus flower while another may be a farmer plowing a field with oxen. They were beautifully executed. He had one of butterflies, so I bought it for my office.

Hearing various rumors that there was a Hard Rock Café here, we went in search of it. They vendors sell HRC t-shirts, but we fell for that stunt in Rome in 1993, years before HRC’s arrival. Though it was Sunday, all of the stores are open all day. This not being a Christian country, the day of the week means nothing to them. At the Tourist Information Center, we found there was a knock off HRC, but it was closed down. What we did find was a Gloria Jean Coffee shop! Yahoo, real coffee for a change, not the faux French press drip coffee that is cold by the time it finishes dripping. Guess what direction we went in?

Being fueled by caffeine, we ventured into a tall tower mall that was as western as they get, but the sign offering the chance to win a trip for two to the Beijing Olympics this year if you use your Visa card at any merchant in the mall, made it appealing. The grocery store at the top was a haven of American brands, but not with imported prices. If only we did not have strict weight limits on luggage. One strange item was Lipton brand chocolate milk tea bags. They also had a full line of breast creams to make your breasts more beautiful after various occasions.

We were sitting on the steps outside this building when a young guy comes over and wants to polish our shoes. Well, fine, but I am wearing Crocs, which can be cleaned in the sink or shower and Ron is wearing his Birkenstock sandals with only two narrow leather straps. When we refused him, he stood in front of us smiling. Deciding to ignore him, we started speaking to each other. I felt something and the guy was washing my shoe with a toothbrush and water. I jumped up yelling stop. He then tried Ron’s sandal with shoe polish, but when we stopped him again, a security guard came to expel him from the area.

Ron had found out there was a Catholic church nearby with a mass at 4:00 and wanted to go. In the courtyard was a grotto with a shrine to Mary. It looked like the vision from the movie about Fatima. Inside the church, it could have been any country, nothing spoke of cultural differences except the flower leis around statues like they use for the Buddha or Quan Yan statues. Mary and Quan Yan could pass for sisters, can you imagine. As it would happen, this was a benediction, not a mass. When it was over, we left; Ron had his fix, which would last him a week or so.

Eventually, we returned to the market and bought the shirt making two women happy, but not as excited as they would have been had we bought two, three or six gross of anything. Getting out of there took lots of exercise in dodging, pulling, picking hands off of us, and sprinting when we had a clear shot.

Stopping for a beer at a sidewalk café within an hour, we were approached to buy fruits or vegetables from four different vendors, sunglasses from two vendors although the fact that we were both wearing Rx eyeglasses did not seem to dissuade them, books from vendors that walk around carrying a stack of 40 different books all in English, three vendors that sell Zippo lighters with slogans on them, a vendor with a wide variety of Gucci or other designer wallets and then there are multitude of physically deformed who are begging for money.

It is emotionally wearing having so many people try to sell things when it is evident they are not doing this for the fun of it and you realize how much better off we have it than they do. Then the beggars all have legitimate claims and needs, but when do you stop giving and giving and giving, when you know there is no social security system in place to aid them and this is their survival. We have limited ourselves to each of us giving to one person each week.

From social work consciousness to reality once again, we went to the restaurant Good Morning Vietnam for dinner. Surprisingly, it is Italian food, the perfect change needed and their pizzas were excellent. They promise an authentic Italian chef at each of their five locations throughout Vietnam and the chef delivered the goods.

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Mack the Tuk-Tuk Driver

There is nothing about this hotel that has not charmed us. The services are excellent, the room has plenty of room, and the television gets over 50 channels, one of which is BBC, so we were able to get Iowa caucus news. The furniture is good quality, not cheap junk and the mattresses are superb.

Breakfast is included, so I was able to get an omelet with a roll and coffee. The amount of butter was nearly humorous that for such a tiny bit they would bother dirtying a dish. Ron asked for some jam and it is 2 cents extra. No complaints, it is just a funny cultural difference.

At 9:00 am, while we were eating, our bicycle tuk-tuk driver was waiting outside for us, like a puppy waiting for a scrap from the table. We were the scraps he wanted. We had arranged for 10:00, but he must have been fearful we would skip out on him. He most likely was casing the place guarding all of our escape routes. We went out to tell him we had to rearrange our hotel in Ho Chi Minh City; Ron had the dates wrong and we were scheduled to check-in today. The reception was kind enough to call and make the changes. He was happy to wait for us and he had a friend with him. There was no way the two of us would last in one tuk-tuk for a long distance ride without one or both of us either falling out or becoming crippled along the way.

We asked our main ‘driver’ his name three times, but each time, neither of us could understand what he said, but is sounded something like Mack. Between us, this is what we called him. He has a stuttering problem in English and in Vietnamese. Watching his face when he is speaking his mother tongue, you can see he struggles at times, his head goes downward and his face contorts. Regardless, we were off to the mountain and the temples. We agreed on 80,000 Dong each since we had two ‘drivers’.

Riding a regular bicycle with someone sitting on the bar is plenty of exertion, but to have a cart attached with a 6 foot 1 inch man adding weight is enough to make me want a rest just thinking about it. For him, it was effortless and we sped through town to go tell it on the mountain over the river and through the water buffalo fields, through hill and dale. The ride was approximately twenty minutes long before he parked his vehicle and said we would walk from here. Here was an area filled with temples, Buddhist temples. As we entered the first temple, I put my cigarette out and was able to take my shoes off to enter, but Mack said not to bother. Unlike in Thailand and Cambodia, they do not remove their shoes when entering the temples. The caretaker was walking around smoking a cigarette, which shocked both of us, but Mack said in Vietnam you can smoke anywhere. I had an instant picture of a Catholic priest offering the Eucharist with a cigarette dangling from his mouth and started to chuckle.

Each of the temples was dazzling in its own way and Mack was great about explaining things to us. Many of the monk caregivers from each temple are buried within the temple and a memorial is set up for each of them. Photos were allowed in every temple except the main one. You could smoke in it, but not photograph it. One of the Buddhas looked like a Las Vegas night show, with a robe that lit up and behind his head a rotating color wheel of reds, oranges, and greens. We dubbed him the Elvis Buddha as irreverent as that may be, he did look entertaining, though from our western perspective, really tacky. Along with Buddha, there were female statues, which presumable were Kwan Yin. She is frequently portrayed as a slender woman in flowing white robes who carries a white lotus in her left hand, an abiding symbol of purity of heart and spirit. Some answers to our questions we received from Mack were incomprehensible and rather than embarrass him by asking him to repeat it multiple times. We had to piecemeal information we could understand.

Outside the largest temple, there was a little boy running around with a strange haircut. He had patches of hair on each side of the head, while the rest of his head was close to shaved. Mack explained that the family has dedicated him to the temple. The temple was an active place with dozens of people bringing in offerings, lighting incense and praying. It turns out that this is a normal day’s business and all of the surrounding shops sell flowers and baskets of food for people to buy for offerings in the temple. If I lived here, I would have to seriously look into Buddhism. A peaceful calm comes over me when I am in a temple.

We did not make it completely up the mountain as Mack has planned since the temples are less ornate as you climb higher, so it did not make much sense to go further when we have seen the best first. When reaching the bottom, we stopped for noodle soup. My pork noodle soup had kidney or liver in it and I was more than willing to share it with the two Chihuahuas running around the place.

On the ride back, we saw water buffalos grazing in front yards, houses on stilts, woman cooking from portable pots, and other cultural iconography making this country stand out from the rest and ultimately charming. We had Mack drop us off at the hotel, but he had convinced us we should take a boat ride to see fish farming, the only Muslim mosque in the area, and a small indigenous group of people who are silk weavers. We agreed to be picked up at 2:30 giving us a chance to get our butts back in shape before taking off again.

Mack was outside panting waiting our return by 2:00. We both managed to fit into his cart by facing each other and we took off to the dock. We boarded a boat, the three of us with the woman who was our captain. First stop was a fish farm. Interestingly, there are many houses that are built on stilts out on the river. The only access to them or from them is by boat, but whole families live here full time, usually fishermen. Some even have dogs, but I cannot figure how they walk it or train it for that matter.

The fish farm is one such building as the houses, but with racks for floors that are lifted up with thousands of fish kept confined. Mack fed them to show the tremendous reception they give for food. When they reach a certain size, they are transferred to another holding area, all the while kept in their native waters, the river.

The next stop was the silk weavers and for the life of us, we could not understand why these people were special. After many futile attempts, we gave us asking for an explanation we could understand. Where our boat docked, it was incredibly high getting from the boat to the dock. With my bad hip, it was impossible for me to lift my leg that high, so wanted Ron to go without me. Mack would not hear of this and I thought he was going to lift me himself, but being half my size, I am appreciative he did not try. I had to sit on the dock first and get up from there. Embarrassing moments are part of the game of travel.

In this community, all of the men wear sarongs, not pants. Within minutes, Ron had a sarong wrapped around him, a silk scarf around his neck and a hat on his head. In the time it took me to take his picture with both our cameras, I was being costumed also. Excellent craftsmanship, beautiful colors, but not something we would go around wearing in Hungary or the U.S. for that matter. With disappointed looks at their lack of a sale, we disrobed, said thanks for the chuckle and moved onward to the mosque in the area. All of the while, we were surrounded by fifteen little girls trying their best to get us to buy their waffles. They look like Belgium waffles, but have different fruits in them. Ron succumbed to one little girl unbeknownst to me, while I was promising I would buy 7 quarters of waffle for $1.00 from another little girl when we returned. I was hoping to shed her like dead fur.

When we returned from the mosque, my little parasite was ready to storm me for her dollar, having no other diversion than to wait for my return. When I looked for a dollar, I did not have one, only a ten and was not about to give it up expecting change. Her face was heartbreaking, so I gave her more than enough for two quarters of waffles and then gave her all of my change besides without expecting yet more goodies in return. She was still clearly disappointed. I seem to think she could not return home until her quota was filled for the day.

Yet another little one latched on to me and begged sorrowfully for me to buy from her too and would not take no for an answer. Just as we were going down the plank, another tourist was approaching and I suggested she try him instead. Like a mechanical robot, she changed direction and attention to target this newest victim.

After we headed back, we decided to walk around, so said our good-byes to Mack giving him his requested amount of money and a large tip besides. He was truly thankful. His plan is to ride for one more year and then leave the country to study English in Great Britain. We wish him luck.

Yearning for a good cup of coffee, we asked at the hotel for a recommendation. It was a distance away, but we walked needing to flex our muscles. The ‘good’ coffee is an individual French pot type device that sits over a glass. There are no lattes, so ordering a white coffee means the coffee drips into condensed milk. Aside from not being what I really want, it was tasty with the right amount of sweetness from the milk.

When I used the bathroom, the toilet was an American Standard brand. The lid on the tank was cracked and the toilet had no seat. The cracked lid with the brand name, conjured up metaphors in my mind about the broken American standards in the country now and especially with primaries starting to take place.

They tried overcharging us and we are not certain if it was an accident or not, but 10,000 Dong is a big mistake. Fortunately, they had left the menus on the table so I could show the waiter the costs of what we had and why the bill was wrong, because he did not speak English.

By the time we walked back to the hotel, the sidewalk restaurants and portable kitchens were invading any free space usually reserved for walking, so it was a dodge ‘em game with the traffic getting back.

For dinner, we decided to ask the desk clerk for a recommendation and he gave us three, each out of walking distance. Not surprisingly, there were two tuk-tuk drivers outside the hotel door pleading for business. We hired both of them to go to the first restaurant on the list. As a good sign, it was filled with locals and we were the only obvious foreigners there. As usual, I have problems finding things on a menu I can eat throughout Asia, because I am highly allergic to fish. That rules out not only the obvious fish, but all things cooked in fish sauce also, which is often the case with beef or pork dishes. I had three options on this menu; however, I could have ordered squid, frogs, snails or snake, but I am just not that adventurous before a major bus trip in the very near future. My beef with sesame was served with a salad. My rule of thumb is not to eat any fruit or vegetable that does not need to be peeled unless the menu specifies it was washed in pure water. Out of the salad, I ate the onions and cucumbers, left behind the lettuce and tomatoes.

Tomorrow, we leave for Ho Chi Minh City on a five hour bus ride on a bus without a bathroom. NPO (nothing by mouth) for me after 9:00 pm.

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So Long Cambodia, Hello Vietnam

The hotel gets one credit in its favor. The wake up call was on time and it was a real person, not a recorded message. We raced through showering, went up for breakfast and was treated to some unusual sights along the riverfront. There was a large group of people doing their exercises as a group not far from the hotel. About ten minutes later, Ron spotted an elephant walking down the street. There was a man walking along side of it, but not riding it. The elephant was meandering down the street like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Every time I see Caucasians walking the streets, especially single women, I wonder if they knew what Cambodia was like, are they disappointed or overwhelmed, and then I wonder where they have been, and where they are going. The same thoughts about expectations occur to me about myself. I still have not processed it fully, but I have found it more intense than Malaysia, definitely in a positive way. There is a liveliness amongst the dirt, the chaos, the poverty that is energetic. There is no way to describe the traffic other than sheer madness. Regardless of whether it is a two or four lane road, there are no lines and seemingly no rules. Everyone drives wherever they can find room to fit between other cars, scooters, or bicycles without regard to what direction anyone else is going in. It is a combination of Italian and Egyptian driving taking the most negative of both.

Obediently, we made it to the lobby by 6:50 am only to be told, we would not leave until 7:30 am giving us time for breakfast. We had already shoveled it down, so only had to wait for our ride. We were transported in a new Toyota equipped with GPS and a steering wheel inlaid with wood. Our very young driver, a replacement for the one we were told would drive us, was competent and had the patience of Job to drive this route. It was not until the last ten minutes of the 1 ½ hour trip that the road was paved. We passed innumerable schools, so there were hundreds of children of all ages in white tops and blue pants or skirts, competing with road space with motorcycles and cars. We were praying for their safety, but they all looked like seasoned commuters trailblazing their way to their destination. There is not four turns of the wheels without hitting a pothole; in some places the entire road is dug out making it like driving through a valley before reaching street level once again.

Arriving at our destination seemed to be a mistake at first; it looked like someone’s battered car mechanic’s garage. Our driver assured us this was the correct place to be and waited for the young man there to get Vietnam forms for us. We filled out entry and exit forms and another list in triplicate. We were left sitting on benches in this dirt yard with a rundown corrugated metal building in front of us, not knowing if there was a river nearby. The driver told us before he left that the boat would arrive at 10:00 am, an hour yet to go. An hour’s sleep missed out on…

As the clock reached 10:00, other buses arrived and dropped off bedraggled travelers. In total, there were six of us and it was time to board the boat from behind this curious establishment. The luxury boat we were sold on was less than such. Carrying our luggage precariously down a gangplank of a dubious nature, we boarded a boat with two long wooden benches down each side. The crew, a family of father, wife, and son were more than pleasant and pleased to have the work. The deck we were promised to walk around was there, but the information missing was that the deck was only one foot wide, no barrier between you and the river, and a handrail at eye level. The upper deck was only accessible by maneuvering this width challenged deck as was the toilet, neither of which I had any intentions of negotiating.

With the challenges of getting to the toilet, I became obsessed with having to use it, willing myself not to have a need, but worrying about how I would get to it if I did. If I fell off of the deck, how long would it take for anyone to realize it? I used all of my mental energy trying not to concentrate on bodily functions, but when told not to think about pink elephants, they always appear.

The beautiful scenery was as valid as the deck to walk around. It was not unattractive, just repetitiously green with trees. I forgot to mention that I used to have nightly dreams about drowning while on a boat. It all started after watching the original version of the Titanic, but in my nightmares the boat is always less pretentious and similar to the one we are on. Therefore, I immediately notice there are no lifejackets and swimming to either side of the river are beyond my lung capabilities even if I had never touched tobacco in my life and only floated on my back.

Our travel companions were a mother and daughter from The Netherlands plus a Swiss couple. We are not sure of their relationship, but he had his big toe painted red on one foot and all of his toenails except the big toe painted red on the other foot. One toe had a ring on it and his left earlobe had a dime size hole in it sans an ear stretcher. My only resource for avoiding drowning and bathroom thoughts was to stretch out trying to sleep on the wood bench. Most of the others went to the ‘upper deck’. When I did snatch a snooze, I had dreams of the boat overturning, not good. The journey was 2 ½ hours before we pulled up to shore. I was hoping it was for a bathroom break and stretch, but it was Cambodian Passport Control. We filed out to show our passports; it was relatively easy. The guard looked at our Visa, pulled out our Exit card and then stamped it with so many rubber stamps; it would make the Hungarians jealous.

We were herded back on the boat, sailed for another ten minutes and docked again. This time we had to take our luggage with us for Vietnam Passport Control and Customs. The plank to reach shore was about the size of a balance beam in gym class. Being able to get over this with luggage in both hands should have qualified all of us for an Olympic gymnastics team. Once over this toothpick of a board, we had to climb rocks and eroded shoreline to get to the top. I guess if you can make it, you deserve to enter the country. This may be their endurance test for entry.

After handing over our passports to a guard who looks them over, we get waved on to a building to have them stamp, stamp, and stamp again. We all passed with flying colors, and then there was Ron. There was a problem with his Visa, but we could not understand the problem. I was told to continue on, but could see him from where I was told to go. I had to pay another $1.00 for some reason; the Visa already cost $20.00 from the Embassy.

We had all had our passports stamped, but Ron was still waiting to pass GO. Finally, he was told he could pass. The problem it turns out was that the Embassy put 2007 for his entry and exit dates, not 2008. Mine was done correctly, but we never caught it when we picked them up.

A very beautiful young Vietnamese woman shepherded us to a ‘restaurant’ where we had to wait for them to do yet something else to our passports, probably check them against wartime or CIA records. During this wait time, we were encouraged to order lunch, but I still had bowel-kidney obsession, so passed on that offer.

When it was time to re-board the boat, it was now a Vietnamese boat with a different crew. Actually, the boat was slightly nicer with eight sets of double seats with a narrow walkway down the center. Not having an upper viewing deck, they did have a back deck, but with no room for luggage, I was wedged in and holding tightly. This portion of the journey had a young woman working it. Her exact role was unclear, but she collected tickets from the passengers. Two Australians were added to our group. Their Visa did not start until January 3, but they showed up on January 2^nd and were not able to cross. The tour guide took them home, gave them dinner, a place to sleep, and breakfast before returning them to the boat today.

This section of the river was narrow enough to make getting to either side easily accessible doing the doggie paddle. At last I could let go of one fear. The views were interesting to say the least. We witnessed water buffaloes being washed in the river; people fishing with huge nets, ducks caged on the water, children swimming in the mud brown water, and families out for a boat journey to who knows where. It made the last two hours of the trip captivating.

Reaching land, we were greeted by young men who wanted to be our drivers to our hotel. Their version of a tuk-tuk here is a bicycle with a wooden seat in the back. Ron and I crammed into one with our luggage, Ron hanging over the edge. Fortunately, it was not far to the hotel. We found out hotel by chance on a site called travelfish.org. It had some good reviews, so we booked it for two nights. We are at the Trung Nguyen Hotel 86 Bach Dang in Chau Doc for $15.00 a night, we have a spacious double bed room (they call these twins, but the beds are double sized), a TV with over 50 channels and free WiFi. Tile covers the floor in the room and decorative tiles adorn the bathroom. Breakfast is included. We have a balcony with two chairs and it is air conditioned. We were really lucky with this one.

After consulting the guide, we were headed out of the hotel for dinner. Our tuk-tuk driver was waiting for us and wanted to ‘drive’ us. Since it was only two blocks away, we declined. He promised to find us again. We went to a local restaurant that was empty on our arrival, but had a waiting group of people when we left. The food was tasty and plentiful, while the cost was cheap. However, the friends who had lived here told us we should bring plenty of American singles with us to pay for things since they are regarded higher than the Vietnamese currency, the Dong. When we asked at the hotel if it was true, we were told that hotels you can pay in dollars, but restaurants and markets you have to use Dong. Gosh dang it or gosh Dong it, we purposefully took out extra dollars from the ATM in Cambodia to have US dollars. Their ATMs only spit out dollars if you don’t have a local account. If we had known, we would have waited until we arrived here.

Being full from dinner, we did a walk around. The night market was still active at 7:30pm, although not all stalls have electricity, so they sell in the dark. The city is still active in early evening with people setting up make-shift kitchens on the street or sidewalks and plunking down nursery school sized chairs at miniature fold up tables for their patrons. The cultural differences are alarming at times, yet the resourcefulness is ingenious.

In search of a larger hotel where our chances of getting a coffee would be better, we found a restaurant/guesthouse that serves coffee. We were not there longer than five minutes when our tuk-tuk driver shows up with a fare he was dropping off at this restaurant. Losing him is like trying to shake a summer cold. He sat down with us like he had been invited. His voice and accent are as jarring as a mosquito when you are just falling asleep, yet he did hook us into a trip tomorrow. We arranged for 10:00 am.

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Our Picks - Cambodia

Siem Reap, Cambodia

This rates tops for hotels and at $30.00 a night for two people, the service was excellent:

Angkor Town Hotel 324 Sivatha Street, Mondol 1, Siem Reap 855-63-76-1137 angkortownhotel@gmail.com

Private driver: Chon Sithon Taxi Driver in Siem Reap Angkor $25.00 a day chon.sithon@yahoo.com (855) 12-85-11-94

Phnom Phenh, Cambodia Restaurants: Friends the restaurant that trains former street children 215 Street 13 Telephone 012-802-072 www.streetfriends.org Bali Cafe 379 Street Preah Sisowath Telephone 023-982-211 email royalalita@camintel.com Excellent food, huge portions and really cheap The Royal Hotel has huge rooms and they are really clean. Doubles are $45.00 a night for two including breakfast.

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Royal Treatment

The WiFi in the room is not working this morning. Was last night was a fluke or does it come on only later in the day; I will just have to check again later.

I am beginning to rethink the reasons for the hoses in the bathrooms. We have seen more and more toilets in restaurants and hotels with signs asking not to put any paper products into the toilet. The hoses may be to cut down on the toilet paper use.

Breakfast is included with this hotel and is served on the top floor, a vast room with no windows that overlooks the river. The wind was blowing furiously this morning, so breakfast was a hasty affair. They did have a cook making omelets along with six steam table dishes with Asian choices like mixed vegetables, fried noodles and rice porridge. The coffee tasted like it had chocolate in it, but it did nothing to make it desirable. I have to have a coffee in the morning. If need be, I can go without the entire day, but morning is a necessity.

There is a café at the end of the block of the hotel where the café latte is excellent. After my caffeine fortification, we went to the National Museum. It did not seem like something that would hold my attention, but if you don’t try, you never know. Tickets were $2.00 each and then another $1.00 for a photo ticket, but photos are restricted to the garden only. As many museums in different parts of the world, the national one revolves around the religion that has shaped the culture. This was no exception; most of the exhibits were based on Buddhism, a religion that entered my radar when we were in Thailand. I have had a healthy respect for it ever since. The museum was enthralling with intricate statues dating back to the 8^th and 9^th centuries.

As we entered various rooms, a woman would approach us with little flowers on a wood stick. There was a different Buddha statue in each of the rooms and a vase with sand waiting for us to place our offering in it. We happily complied and left little donations of money at each.

In the center garden, koi ponds reign with one decorating each corner and a statue of Buddha in the center. For some insignificant amount of money, you can buy food to feed the fish, but they looked like they have been well nourished. Some of them could have provided a meal for a family of four with a doggie bag thrown in.

We were going to go to the Royal Palace, but it closes for 2 ½ hours for lunch, so we did too. After walking beyond it we were approached by a bright ten year old girl peddling water, who captivated us with her English skills. After a promise to buy water from her when we returned to the palace, she made us read the sayings on her pink hat so that we could be sure we were dealing with the right little girl when we returned. After repeating the slogans on her cap “Kiss me”, “Love Me” and “Hot Forever” she released us from custody. We really should have bought her a new beanie that was age appropriate.

Lunch sounded like a good idea and we found a little restaurant, one amongst three, that served personal sized pizzas for $1.50. They had some English newspapers, so we burrowed in and read the news of the world in English, rather than a daily dose of BBC which has been available almost everywhere we have stayed. When we returned to the palace, our little pink Madonna was waiting for us with two bottle of water ready for purchase for $1.00. Who could resist such charm?

When one thinks of Cambodia, royalty does not come to mind, at least not for me. I guess it does for many others. The line for tickets to get into the palace grounds was a long one, but it moved fast. For $3.00 each, we were given a booklet and map of the grounds with unlimited photo privileges except in certain buildings like the Royal Reception building. The king’s residence was off limits. What we found out is that the king and queen were exiled during the Khmer Rouge times, when they went to China to live. After the overthrow of the KR, the king who is in his early 80s and the queen returned, but he abdicated to his son. His son is in his forties and unmarried.

The palace grounds are what you would expect of royalty, but here Buddha reigns king. There are Buddha statues and chapels all over the ground. The royal reception room was stunningly beautiful, but of course, no photos were allowed. The royal gardens were immense, but all roads leading to them were closed to the public, so we could only view them from the periphery. A number of other buildings were closed off too, but still plenty to see and be in awe over.

On the way back to the hotel, we stopped at a travel agency to find out about the trip to Chau Doc, Vietnam for tomorrow. We were informed there were two types of boats making the trip, one slow for a seven hour trip and one fast one taking a measly four hours. The most expensive was $12.00 each. My vote went for the fast boat to shave off the three hours. We would have to get to the dock via tuk-tuk at an added cost. When we went back to the hotel, Ron wanted to check with their travel desk. The manager is a Cambodian-American who convinced us that American guests who have done the trip in reverse have had nothing but complaints. They said they had to sit on the top deck, could not move about, and the diesel fumes were suffocating. He convinced us to book the slow boat for the fantastic scenery, the ability to walk around deck, take photos along the way, and sales pitch, and sales pitch. We bit the bait and paid $28.00 each providing us with a driver for the two hour drive to the dock where the boat leaves from and then the boat to Chau Doc. We were told we would need to be ready to leave at 6:00 am. No breakfast for us. It starts at 6:00. P.T. Barnum said there is a sucker born every minute, but he forgot to add that some suckers are repeat customers.

For dinner, we were going to try the Foreign Correspondents Club, recommended in the guide book. After one look at the menu, we said sorry and left. The prices must be meant for correspondents on an expensive account. Our next choice was the Bali Café right next to our hotel at 379 Street Preah Sisowath Telephone 023-982-211 e-mail royalalita@camintel.com. Soothingly decorated with batiks on the walls, it is open to the river with a second higher level of seating augmenting the seating. With a table on the river side, we ordered from the a la carte menu, which was a mistake. I started with a coconut soup with chicken and vegetables, but also ordered vegetables with a garlic sauce and a pork dish. Each dish was more than substantial and could have been a meal unto itself. The blends of spices in each dish were superb and this restaurant is highly recommended. With our two large beers and six dishes, the bill came to $18.00 for both of us.

When we returned to the Royal Khmer hotel, we were told that the time for the boat has changed to 6:50 am, so we could have breakfast first, but please be ready to leave by 6:50. Another demerit added. When we returned to the room, the WiFi was again working.

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Happy Phnom Penh New Year

We were leaving today for Phnom Penh, really sad to leave Siem Reap. We had to make one last trip to the Blue Pumpkin; I had yet to try their mango Danish. We did not bring the computer this time; we had everything packed and ready to go. That Danish was worth returning for!!

We took our things across the street where we were to get the bus to PP, a five hour trip. Normally, I would have to be drugged for such a trip, but I acquiesced since there were few alternatives. There was only a van waiting for us, but we were told it was taking us to the bus. They loaded our things and we drove to a bus station, showed our tickets, received our bus number, and then were loaded on another small bus. We were promised a luxury bus with a bathroom. This was a van on steroids, not luxurious in the least. We drove literally for one block and were told to get off and onto our REAL bus. This one was more like it. It was impeccably clean, it did have a bathroom, and the seats were comfortable with an extensive amount of leg room. The bus had a host too. After we took off, he came around to give each of us a bottle of water, the next trip was a snack box with a meat dumpling and a dessert turnover. The third trip was wet napkins.

Most of the ride was on two lane roads with horns tooting most of the time. People do not drive on one side or the other, but wherever there is space. Blowing the horn lets others know you are passing. As we passed through each province, the host would tell us something about it. I bought a t-shirt in Siem Reap that has Same, Same on the front and But, Different on the back. This is the way I would describe the scenery. Just when you think they all look alike, there is a miniscule difference to set it apart. Many houses were on high stilts for the rainy season. Cows and water buffalo were grazing along the side of the road and in some cases across the road. Some areas had elaborate entry ways into temple grounds. They looked Buddhist.

When we bought our tickets, we also booked a hotel through the same agency from their sister hotel. We were told there would be a tuk-tuk waiting with our names when we arrived and this would transport us to the hotel. Sure enough, a young man was standing by with our names on a sign. He took us to the hotel and when we pulled up the porters came running up to say there were no vacancies. We said we had a reservation. They told us to come in. They did not have our reservation. They wanted to know who we spoke with when we called. We went through the whole thing about the manager of their sister hotel calling to make the reservation, but there was nothing and they had no rooms. The offered their third sister hotel down the street. This would be a 4 star hotel and the room would be $45.00 a night versus the $30 we intended to pay. We agreed, though with some disgust.

The tuk-tuk took us to the other hotel and we checked in. There are Visa and MasterCard signs all over the windows and on the reception desk. The clerk asked how I wanted to pay and I said by credit card. He says, we don’t have a credit card machine here. I point out the fifteen credit card signs all over the place while repeating what he just said. I thought I misunderstood him. No misunderstanding, if we wanted to pay by credit card, we would have to return to the hotel we just left, let them swipe my card in their reader and then return with the receipt to this hotel. They would provide the tuk-tuk for this transaction. Just out of aggravation and stubbornness, I still insisted on paying by credit card.

Before we went back to swipe the card, Ron asked for a second pillow and was told “Yes, yes, yes!” Went we went down for dinner, Ron asked for the second pillow a second time. “Yes, yes, yes!” When we came back from dinner, Ron called down for a second pillow. Same story, no pillow. I also asked if they knew of anywhere there was WiFi in the city. They had no idea, but they had computers in the lobby I could use for $2.00 an hour.

We found this restaurant that is a training center for reforming homeless children. They have a training center; they are student cooks, wait people, hosts, and so on. We went there for dinner. Very impressive. Friends the restaurant that trains former street children located at 215 Street 13 Telephone 012-802-072; www.streetfriends.org. The trainees have t-shirts with their logo and Student on the back, while the others have Teacher on the back. The place was packed. The food was good, but the service was exceptional.

On the walk back, I noticed a café that has free WiFi between 5-7pm with every coffee purchase. I went in to ask about other times and it is $2.00 an hour. Great, we were planning for tomorrow to check on our reservation for Vietnam. We returned to the hotel, I turned on the computer to write and VIOLA, the hotel has WiFi and it is free. The desk people have no idea.

This room is oversized with two beds, totally comfortable, but the pillows are so stuffed, they feel like they stuffed each of them with feathers from 10 geese, but forgot to remove the feathers first. I could swear I heard honking coming from them. Not getting the second pillow Ron wanted has given this hotel demerits. He uses it for his legs, not his head, so bounce to the ounce doesn’t matter to him.

Overall, with the exception of a walking promenade along the river with flags from every nation, this is not much different from Siem Reap. The tuk-tuk drivers are just as aggressive and desperate for work as they were in Siem Reap. Sadly for them, everywhere we want to go is so close by, we really don’t need them. When we did, it was the hotel that supplied a driver.

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Happy New Year

Only hours are left to this year, but we slept in as long as possible, which turned out to be 9:00 am. Big whoop!! We needed to make reservations for a place in Vietnam, so Blue Pumpkin to the rescue. Just as we walked up, someone took the patio table by the electric outlet, but there was one on the first floor, so I grabbed it. The store next door has a great selection of unique gifts, so I made my fifth trip in there and made one last purchase.

Dropping off the computer, we took off walking in the opposite direction of the market area. We have passed this area a number of times going and coming from Angkor, but have not stopped here. We walked quite a distance looking for a store that Ron had read about in the travel guide, but we could not find it. Street signs or any identification is nil. We never did find the store, but we did find a café that serves good coffee.

On the way back, we stopped at some food vendors and looked at strange fruits. We had tasted dragon fruit in Kuala Lumpur, but we never tasted this fruit that looks like a red tennis ball with porcupine syndrome. The woman peeled one for us and we tasted its juicy sweet yet tangy flesh. Then she peeled these little brown marbles and popped out a slimy ball with a dark pit in the center, making it look like an eyeball staring at me, with the pit as a pupil. It felt like what I imagine an eyeball would feel like or at least what my eyeball feels like when I put in contact lens. We bought some of each just as thanks for introducing us to these new tastes. We will give them to the hotel staff as we leave on a bus tomorrow.

The rest of the afternoon was spent writing, working with photos, and just kicking back. Ron wanted to go to the Blue Pumpkin sale. After 7:00 pm, all of their left over baked goods is 50% off and we would have them for snacks on the bus. We started speaking to a tuk-tuk driver who was telling us that although tourism has been up this year, it still has been a bad year for the tuk-tuk drivers. The increase in tourism is due to the Koreans; however, there are Korean businesses here that cater to them. The Korean travel agencies here draw them, then Korean bus services drive them around and they eat at Korean restaurants. Then the profits are sent back to Korea, not contributing to the local economy. Sounds like Wal-Mart. He also said that many of the tuk-tuk drivers are from the provinces where their family has sold a cow or ox in order to buy a tuk-tuk for their son to come to Siem Reap to make money and send it back home. Unfortunately, these drivers have to rent a room and survive here in the city when they are not driving or trying to convince someone to ride with them. Add to this the increasing price of gasoline and he has us in tears for these poor guys.

As we were talking, he asked where we were going for dinner. We had not decided yet, so he suggested a hotel that has a buffet dinner and a dance show. Wary of such suggestions, he offered to drive us to the hotel to make a decision when we arrived. It was indeed one of the larger hotels and it is packed with who else, but Koreans. We were able to get a table right near the stage, very lucky since it was so full of bus tour groups and we did not have a reservation. The show was excellent dances of Cambodian culture. The buffet was extensive with Cambodian dishes and it was all you can eat sans drinks. Dinner was $12.00 each, a bargain by far.

Our tuk-tuk friend returned to get us and return us to the hotel where I will work on pictures and Ron will nap for the fourth time today. When we arrived, we asked our driver how much we owed, bearing in mind the sob story he gave us. He said whatever we wanted to give him, making it difficult since the ride was only 10 minutes and easily walkable. However, being a special day, the end of the year, we should prosper others and I gave him $7.00. He about did somersaults and it was not an act. I believe he thought we were more generous than he anticipated.

We hung around the hotel room until 11:00 and then went to the block party. There were about six blocks cut off from traffic, but only one block was a party area. Beers were $1.00 and the street was mobbed. No fabulous fireworks or other fun things, but hundreds of people having a good time dancing in the street to loud music making merry. The Cambodians do not celebrate New Years at this time, so they all wished us a happy one. I think theirs falls in April.

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Good Morning, Vietnam

How can 22 different embassy web sites be wrong, I ask you? After looking for the Vietnam embassy address, we found the same listing on all web sites, but when Ron went there, they were no where to be found. A call into the US embassy did the trick, we found the corrected address and this morning, we went to apply for our Visa for December. First we had to have pictures taken in one of the photo booths in the subway. Two photos per application please! This was a comedy of errors since the machines are obviously made in Italy. All of the signs are in Italian. Of course, we had a late start and was fumbling for change once we were at the booth. Our plan was to have two snaps and immediately change seats so we could get 2 and 2 with the same amount of money. BUT we were fooled. The flash only goes off once and you get four of the same shot. Better look pretty the first time or you are out of luck. After scrapping for more bills (recommended) and the balance in change, Ron had his chance. Off to the embassy, tiny, but orderly embassy with two women and one man working, we had our applications in and were out of there in 20 minutes time. One sheet, easy to fill out application and two photos was all it took. They keep our passport until it is completed. We can return on Monday for them. Viola!! Simple. The Visa is 9,000 Ft each. Our Visas for Cambodia and Malaysia can be obtained at the airports.

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