Baraka's Pacific Adventures

January 29 - Home to Baraka

Dave and I explored Luang Prabang, checking out the ethnic museum, morning and night markets, and some of the monasteries as we moved from guesthouse to guesthouse, 4 in all. It’s Chinese New Year, and the town is packed with tourists. Our last morning we got up early to watch several hundred monks pass through town in a long, silent procession past alms-givers, mostly older ladies, seated on short stools holding their rice baskets. As each monk drifts past, the lady opens her rice basket and grabs a dollop of sticky rice to place in the monk’s alms-bowl. Tourists line the road snapping photos, but this is not for the tourists. In a country with no government welfare, the alms-giving is important. Anyone in need can go to the local wat and find food and a place to sleep. The monks return to the wat, chant a prayer for those who gave, and have their only meal of the day.

After the procession, we wandered through the morning market. We were told the Lao eat anything, and the market is proof. Dried rats are tied in bundles, small frogs leap in a bowl. Live chickens lay trussed on the ground. You can buy grubs and insects, and tiny sparrows roasted on bamboo spits. The meat counter (no refrigeration) is swarming with flies. We buy small grilled snacks - who knows what they are.

Saffron Coffee has several shops in LP. The Hmong traditionally grew opium for their own use. This blossomed into a bigger industry during and after the Vietnam War. Now the government discourages opium growing, so the Hmong hill tribe people have resorted to slash-and-burn crop growing, getting a harvest only once in 8 years. Saffron Coffee and Mountain Coffee encourage shade coffee growing, buying all that the Hmong can produce, hoping this will replace the opium and slash-and-burn crops. Around town are many NGOs helping get beautiful minority textiles to market. The library encourages tourists to buy a children’s textbook and put it into a book bag, to deliver books to remote villages. The government has almost no tax basis as this is not a cash economy, so education, libraries, medical care, services we take for granted must be funded some other way. The shortfall is huge.

We hopped the plane to Vientiane, capitol of Laos, a big sprawling city on the banks of the Mekong. We enjoyed a French cuisine at Le Vendome. The next day we rented bicycles and toured the city, wet market and dry, and the Arc de Triomph-looking monument, climbing to the top for fine city views. We biked along the Mekong, though in this dry season the water has receded into a fraction of its wet season width, and is distant across a sandy plain. Dave and I are reading some entertaining books, set in the mid-70s after the Pathet Lao took over. Colin Cotterill writes the Dr. Siri Paiboun series about a reluctant coroner, appointed because he was the last doctor in Laos. They are well-written and funny, and capture a lot of what we are seeing. The author has given all proceeds from the sale to several charities that help Laos. We found the publisher’s bookshop, Book Cafe, and bought the entire set.

Our last morning in Laos Dave and I biked to the National Museum, then on to COPE, one of the agencies that gets the Dr. Siri royalties. COPE provides artificial limbs and training for bombie victims. Laos remains the most bombed country in the history of the world. The US dropped more ordinance on Laos in the Secret War (never approved by Congress) than was dropped in all of WWII. The targets were civilian, villages, rice fields. The US hoped to interrupt the Ho Chi Ming Trail, but if you look at a map that shows the bomb pattern, the country was carpet bombed. The tragedy is ongoing, as roughly 30 percent of the bombs dropped did not explode. Today villagers continue to find the bombs and try to salvage the metal, considered valuable. The result is devastating. The worst bombs are the cluster bombs, huge casings that contained several hundred grenade-like “bombies”. The casings opened midair, and the baseball sized bombies had small fins designed to spin them as they fell, so one cluster bomb salted a large area. Children find the bombies, which surface after the monsoons, and the cycle continues.

Most of the time I am proud to be American. But not so much when I see the damage we have done to these very poor countries.

We rode back to our hotel and grabbed our bags. Two flights later we were back aboard Baraka. Great trip - we saw and ate and experienced some wonderful things, and learned more about our fragile world.

January 22 - Laos Adventures

Our final day in Siem Reap Dave was entertaining a travellers bug, so Mr. Sokhoeun took me to the Bayon for a final look at the wonderful bas relief carvings. Around the outside gallery every column has lively dancing asparas. The walls contain scenes of everyday life, crocodiles attacking people, and tigers chasing people up trees, temple builders, people cooking, cockfights, naval battles. Too soon it was time to pick Dave up and head to the airport.

A few hours later we touched down in picturesque Luang Prabang, Laos, nestled on a peninsula formed by the junction of the Nam Khan and Mekong rivers. LP is full of monasteries. Each morning at 6am there is a procession of orange-robed monks through the city, begging alms and granting blessings. This is a tourist mecca, with lots of shops, guesthouses and restaurants. It is delightful, but not representative of this country, where 80% live in rural villages with no electricity.

We had fun exploring, especially enjoying the bamboo foot bridges built across the Nam Khan. They are constructed in the dry season, and are destroyed each year when the rivers rise again with monsoon rains.

Our second day here we caught a 3-hour overcrowded minibus with no shocks to Nong Khiau, where we stayed at the NK Riverside in a thatch bungalow. Gorgeous setting - the river has carved steep walls. We booked a tour, advertised as “something suitable for your parents”, a boat trip upriver to Muang Ngoi, and an all-day kayak ride back down. On the way up we got a preview of the whitewater we’d be descending, yikes. Muang Ngoi is a small village with a lovely temple. We walked both blocks on main street, and learned how river weed is prepared - a lot of steps to make this local delicacy.

Our guide gave us a double kayak, and had us put on life jackets. We started our leisurely paddle downstream, past small villages, pigs rooting on the riverbank, and water buffalos cooling in the river. The river villagers wait until the water starts dropping in the dry season and plant vegetable gardens along the banks as the water recedes. Gardens are fenced in bamboo to keep the livestock out. Along the way we saw many people harvesting riverweed. Our boat driver and guide provided a riverside picnic - delicious eggplant dip, sauteed vegetables, tough beef, and sticky rice, a small feast. In Laos you eat with your fingers, both hands. We carried on downstream, until we came to the longest stretch of rapids. The kayak seemed stable, but halfway down we flipped. I came up underneath the kayak for a moment, then popped up alongside but didn’t grab on quickly enough. Our guide caught me and got me back to our kayak. We righted it and Dave tried to climb up, but was hindered by his life jacket. So we rode the rapids hanging on to the sides of our kayak, occasionally bumping feet and knees on rounded river rock. A few minutes later the rapids spit us out into calmer waters, where our boatman caught us. He was waiting below the rapids to made sure no boats attempted to come upstream while we were in them as they are quite narrow. We hung onto both the boat and our kayak. The boatman skillfully brought us to a sandspit. While he motored us there, I was very aware of the prop spinning not far behind our feet. No drama, all was well. Our camera was in a ziploc, tied to the kayak. Amazingly, we did not lose it, nor hats, sunglasses. The guide even caught my flipflops!

We climbed back into the kayak and continued on, refreshed by our surprise swim in the cool Nam Ou. Late afternoon we pulled back into Nong Khiau.

Our waitress at dinner told us she works as a volunteer, teaching in a village far upstream, living with the wealthiest family in the village. They have a tiny store with not much in it, as no one can afford to buy anything. A couple times a week the villagers eat rats, about all they can catch. They have a few chickens but don’t eat them - the hens are too valuable. She said they basically have nothing. She comes to town occasionally to work for money to buy shampoo and things she needs, and has been living in the village now for 5 months. Makes us realize we have not seen the “real Laos” yet.

This morning we said goodbye to Nong Khiau, and caught the 5 hour “ferry” back to Luang Prabang. The ferry, costing about $13, is a covered riverboat with hard wooden seats, about 4 feet wide and 40 feet long. The driver sits in the bow. No lifejackets this time. The boat descends the Nam Ou for 4 hours until it joins the Mekong. With the dry season, the river is steadily getting shallower, exposing more rocks, any of which would crack the fragile ferry like an eggshell. Rocks were in touching distance on both sides at times, as we threaded the rapids going downstream. We have no idea how the boat driver delivered us safely!

January 17 - Thoroughly ruined

Each day Mr Sokhoeun picks us up in his tuk-tuk and drives us wherever we want to go. It’s most comfortable, padded seat and covered roof, yet open air sides let us see the country we are passing. The last couple days we visited a couple fascinating sites - Ta Prohm was the setting for the TombRaider movie, and remote Bang Maelea is even more unrestored. There is an ongoing debate - should monumental ruins be allowed to crumble, maintained as is, or restored to what they must have looked like originally. Here at Angkor there is some of each, the restored ruins allowing masses of tourists to envision life 800 years ago. Most are being allowed to erode away. Tourists can climb on fragile carvings, or sit on Naga balustrades. The delicate sandstone carvings lose definition with each monsoon season. Trees start as seedlings on the top of walls, and eventually grow cascading roots that displace the stones into piles of rubble, or in some cases help hold the stones in their original positions.

Bang Maelea turn out to be our favorite ruin. Few tourists bother with the 90 minute ride into the country when so many major ruins are closer to town, so we almost had the place to ourselves. Bang Maelea is a fallen down shambles, built originally by the same king and at the same time as Angkor Wat. Alan had heard that the Khmer Rouge may have blown it up, or it may be that nature took over. In any case, it is a lot of fun to explore. We spent a happy morning climbing up and under and over masses of fallen stones, some with exquisite carving, aided by a local guide who led up deep into the crumbled labyrinth. The libraries and moats and walkways and galleries were originally in a similar layout to that of Angkor Wat, though on a smaller scale. Having been to Angkor first, we could figure out what was what.

Mr. Sokhoeun started the long drive back into Siem Reap, then made a surprise stop for us at what had been his Grandmother’s house, now occupied by his maternal aunt and her family. We had been fascinated by the typical Cambodian home, and he answered a lot of our questions. The 60 year old house is in need of some repair. Wood is stacked below and will be used “when the family has money to make the repairs”. The Cambodian country house is one floor on stilts. Beneath the enclosed upper level is where the family spends their days, as it is cooler. There is a cooking fire, hammocks, chicken pen with 2 chickens, and room for storage of fishnet, shrimp trap baskets, mats for drying rice. Monsoon rain water from the roof is collected in huge open jars, and used for cooking and bathing. There is a well and handpump for the dry season, but water must be boiled. Behind the house was a mud-wattle shed for storing rice, mango and banana trees, a pigpen with one pig, an ox-cart, the family cow, a pond, a rice paddy and vegetable garden. The house has no plumbing or electricity. Cooking is done with wood fire, as cooking gas costs money. The family sells a little rice and corn if they have surplus. 3 generations live in the house.

The family has almost no cash income. We were impressed that the small farm can produce such a variety of foods. Our driver knocked down a couple coconuts and opened them for us to enjoy a drink. Cambodians have little, but know how to be content. Another lesson for us.

Cambodians get around by bicycle, or if they have income, moto (small motorcycle). Almost anything can be transported by moto, stacks of mattresses, piles of lumber, bicycles, and entire families (7 is the max we’ve seen). Our favorite was 3 large live pigs headed to market, upside down with trotters waving, lashed athwart the moto seat behind the driver.

January 14 - Angkor Wat - Siem Reap

We locked up Baraka and headed to Phuket Airport. Our flight was delayed but the hardworking clerk booked us onto another that got us to Bangkok in time to connect for Siem Reap. The Cashew Nut had arranged pickup, and our driver promptly delivered us to the guesthouse. Very nice - our spotless double ensuite room (air con, wifi, bfast included) is $18 a night, a preview of how far the tourist dollar stretches in Cambodia. Best of all, Alan, the proprietor, sat down with us and mapped out a plan to see the ruins, and arranged our tuk-tuk driver.

Our first day was dedicated to orientation. We enjoyed the excellent national museum to get some perspective on the ruins, and trekked around town a bit. Day 2, we got serious, making an all-day circuit of some of the “lesser” ruins, though they seemed plenty impressive, each distinctive. Anchor Wat describes the entire park, and also a single complex within the park, which is somewhat confusing. So Angkor What? Or maybe Angkor Which? Day 3 we started with a great one-hour trek up a river to a small (in this dry season), somewhat ho-hum falls. Just beyond were the delights that make the hike worthwhile, The river bed was dotted with thousands of carved lingas - penis symbols of Vishnu’s power, which make the river waters potent and holy. Tucked around them were carved figures, only visible in this dry season. Cool! We treked back down to the tuk-tuk, and drive to Banteay Srei, the jewelbox ruin, known for exquisite carvings, covering every surface. The Khmer carved here in a hard pink sandstone which has survived amazingly intact eight centuries of weather and war.

To learn about more recent Khmer history, we visited the nearby landmine museum. In almost 20 years of war, mines were laid in many areas, and are still being found the hard way. This museum is most sobering, and shows the heart-wrenching human cost of warfare. A mine costs about a dollar to make, and a thousand dollars to find and diffuse. The US is one of the few major nations which has not banned landmines, on the grounds they are needed to keep the Korean DMZ. I’d like our congressmen to visit this museum and see the peglegs fashioned for children out of bamboo sections.

To round out the day we attended an evening one-man cello concert / pitch for donations. Dr. Beat (Beatocello) Richner is a Swiss national who served as a pediatrician in Cambodia until driven out by the Khmer Rouge. He was invited to return almost 20 years ago, and has since built 5 children’s hospitals in Cambodia. The policy is that no child will be turned away. A half million children are treated annually, and the needs are huge - a legacy of Cambodia’s recent history. It’s a fantastic story, and anyone reading this, I would urge you to find out more about his work and consider contributing.

Day 4 in Siem Reap. We hit the big ones - Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom, including the Bayon. When I get home to the boat I’ll post some pictures, as words can’t do justice. This is why we travel - to learn about the great civilizations of the past, especially when they leave behind magnificent structures, and to learn about the culture today, the people, customs, economy, foods…

We have been to many poor countries - some more than here, though Cambodia’s story seems the saddest. Yet the people are testament to the resiliency of the human spirit.

January 9 - Hotel California

Baraka is booked here at Royal Phuket Marina until February 1. Then the slip is reserved for another yacht. Only problem is that we can check out but we can’t leave - the tides aren’t deep enough for another 5 days, until Feb 5, to make it out the channel. The marina is scrambling to find us another slip, as there is no place to anchor.

We leave tomorrow for some land travel - to Siem Reap with its Angkor Wat ruins and Khmer Rouge scars, then to Laos for a more rustic SE Asian experience (think insects and squat toilets).

Dave has had good luck in getting the repairs list done - the bent stanchion is straightened and reinstalled, better than before, and a small deck leak is properly repaired. The quadrant stop has been rewelded for better clearance. Mr. Phon is replacing the outside instrument Plexiglas cover and the plywood base under the toilet. The jib is being restitched by Kek. I reglued the dinghy cover velcro, and marked the anchor chain. Best of all, Octopus repaired the autopilot display/control unit! at a very reasonable cost. There are still a few more projects, but these are the big rock items so we feel deserving of some play time away from the boat.

January 4 - Royal Phuket Marina

Baraka waited for high tide, then threaded our way along the mangroves in a dredged channel. We had our track from last year, which was helpful. Much of the way there was less than 2 feet under the keel, and in one spot we read zero (with our prop wash stirring the silt up), but we slid in ok.

Royal Phuket gave us a slip at the superyacht dock so we are nestled in with the big boys. Dave rewired our electrical cable to fit a huge 50 amp plug. One settled, we dug the bicycles out from the bilge, and re-assembled them. The shortcut to boat lagoon is closed off with barbed wire, so we have an easy 10 minute bike ride instead. We loaded the stinking mountain of dirty laundry on the handcart and strapped that to the back of a bike as a trailer. This worked badly - the handcart would develop a wobble side to side, oscillating wildly and eventually spill over. Oh well, good in theory.

Dave took our quadrant stop in to be rewelded, and the stanchion we bent leaving Rebak. Our autopilot is back, hopefully repaired.