March 29, 2009
Battambang is about half-way between Siem Reap and Phnom Penh – a good place to break an otherwise rather long bus trip. It's a pleasant city, with wide tree-lined boulevards, and a nice walkway along the river. And, compared to many Cambodian cities, it's relatively clean. There are garbage cans on the street, and people actually use them. Battambang is also a cultured sort of place, with a number of universities, schools and colleges. You see people reading. Many of the townspeople speak English.We were taking an evening stroll when we came upon several groups of people – all women – doing dance aerobics to disco music in the park. It was so great. They were having such a good time, dancing in long lines, following a male(!) leader. Some of them were singing along to the lyrics as they pumped their arms and kicked their feet.
Other people were getting their exercise by walking with gusto, playing badminton, or playing a kind of hacky-sack game with a shuttle-cock. Other people just sat in the park watching the action, talking, or eating food from the many stalls set up along the road. Corn on the cob, sandwiches, fruit, drinks. It was like a fair. And... it happens every evening! What a great thing!
While we were in Battambang we hired a couple of guys to drive us round the countryside. Our first 'stop' was the 'bamboo train.' This is an ingenious idea – a low-tech way of using the railroad tracks for small scale transportation. Here's how it works. The 'train' is just a single 'car,' which consists of a small wooden platform (about 4'x6') covered with a bamboo mat. The platform sits on the track atop a couple of sets of miniature train wheels. An engine about the size of a lawn-mower engine is perched on the platform over the rear set of wheels. And a belt attached to the engine and the rear set of wheels provides the power that scoots the 'bamboo train' along the tracks. Simple, cheap and very effective.
Once our train was set up on the track, we piled on with our drivers and their two motorbikes. We were given pillows, and sat at the front of the platform. Our drivers sat on their bikes. The 'engineer,' who looked like he was about twelve years old, filled the engine with gas, then started it up and off we went.
We had to stop a couple of times and unload everything when we met up with another 'bamboo train' coming towards us that was more heavily loaded, and therefore had the 'right of way.' One was carrying a big load of wood with a small woman on top. Our train was speedily unloaded, the engine, platform and wheels removed from the tracks, and the woman and her wood carried on. Then our train was reassembled, and we were on our way again. Fantastic!
Apparently the 'bamboo trains' will soon be a thing of the past, as the governments of Cambodia, Thailand and Vietnam have plans to use the line for a new train that will go from Bangkok to Saigon. It's a great idea, but it will require all new track. The tracks we were on were as wavy as a couple of wet noodles – it was a very bumpy ride! So, in terms of the new international train, we'll believe it when we see it.
Back on our bikes, we puttered through the rice-paddied country-side and a few small villages with no electricity or running water. There were hug cement urns outside every house. They get filled with water every week or so – more often in rainy season, when its so much easier to collect. The houses were mostly made of wood and up on stilts. Some had palm thatch rooves, others corrugated iron. They appeared fairly neat and clean, and the people looked well fed. Kids had clothes and shoes.
We saw several groups of school kids riding bikes. All had white shirts or blouses and dark pants or skirts. All also had big smiles and yelled happy “hellos” at us. They see very few tourists, and seemed truly thrilled – almost awed – to see us.
Given what we've heard about the rural poverty here in Cambodia we were fairly favourably impressed. Our driver said that the rice crop had been good this year, so the villagers were well fed. His family, like other families, owns a two hectare plot of land on which they grow rice. It yields around 700 kilos of rice a year. He comes from a family of nine children. The rice they grow is enough to feed them all with just a little extra that they can sell. They all do something else to make money. He's a motorcycle taxi man.
At one point we saw a great big pig happily sleeping in the shade of a tree.
Once our train was set up on the track, we piled on with our drivers and their two motorbikes. We were given pillows, and sat at the front of the platform. Our drivers sat on their bikes. The 'engineer,' who looked like he was about twelve years old, filled the engine with gas, then started it up and off we went.We had to stop a couple of times and unload everything when we met up with another 'bamboo train' coming towards us that was more heavily loaded, and therefore had the 'right of way.' One was carrying a big load of wood with a small woman on top. Our train was speedily unloaded, the engine, platform and wheels removed from the tracks, and the woman and her wood carried on. Then our train was reassembled, and we were on our way again. Fantastic!
Apparently the 'bamboo trains' will soon be a thing of the past, as the governments of Cambodia, Thailand and Vietnam have plans to use the line for a new train that will go from Bangkok to Saigon. It's a great idea, but it will require all new track. The tracks we were on were as wavy as a couple of wet noodles – it was a very bumpy ride! So, in terms of the new international train, we'll believe it when we see it.
Back on our bikes, we puttered through the rice-paddied country-side and a few small villages with no electricity or running water. There were hug cement urns outside every house. They get filled with water every week or so – more often in rainy season, when its so much easier to collect. The houses were mostly made of wood and up on stilts. Some had palm thatch rooves, others corrugated iron. They appeared fairly neat and clean, and the people looked well fed. Kids had clothes and shoes.We saw several groups of school kids riding bikes. All had white shirts or blouses and dark pants or skirts. All also had big smiles and yelled happy “hellos” at us. They see very few tourists, and seemed truly thrilled – almost awed – to see us.
Given what we've heard about the rural poverty here in Cambodia we were fairly favourably impressed. Our driver said that the rice crop had been good this year, so the villagers were well fed. His family, like other families, owns a two hectare plot of land on which they grow rice. It yields around 700 kilos of rice a year. He comes from a family of nine children. The rice they grow is enough to feed them all with just a little extra that they can sell. They all do something else to make money. He's a motorcycle taxi man.
At one point we saw a great big pig happily sleeping in the shade of a tree. “They feed them marijuana!” my driver yelled.
“What?” I called back over the roar of the motorcycle engine. “What did you say?”
"They feed them marijuana to make them eat more and sleep a lot. So they get very fat very fast.”
"Do they smoke it themselves?” I asked.
"They feed them marijuana to make them eat more and sleep a lot. So they get very fat very fast.”
"Do they smoke it themselves?” I asked.
“What?” He yelled. “The marijuana. DO THEY SMOKE IT?” I yelled back, going through the motions of holding an imaginary joint to my mouth and inhaling.
He laughed at that. “No, they don't smoke it, they eat it. You know, like 'happy pizzas.'”
But the people, unlike the pigs, are neither fat nor sleepy. They don't get enough to eat to get fat, and anyway they work too hard.
He laughed at that. “No, they don't smoke it, they eat it. You know, like 'happy pizzas.'”
But the people, unlike the pigs, are neither fat nor sleepy. They don't get enough to eat to get fat, and anyway they work too hard.
If I lived in Cambodia, I'd like to be a pig.
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