BIZARRE FOOD, GUNS FOR ART

Elephant walking on Phnom Penh's riverfront

As Phnom Penh’s main riverfront street, Sisowath Quay certainly has character. Besides the occasional passing elephant, I’ve encountered sights that you'd never expect to see in any capital city.

One morning on a downtown bus, I saw a macaque monkey calmly making his way crossing this busy downtown street! He crossed the road by walking along an overhead powerline, like it was a vine in the jungle. Well, that’s one way to avoid the heavy traffic.

Other animals found on Sisowath Quay are not live, but served for lunch! Riverfront food covers a very wide range of tastes, including the bizarre. Today I look at a street vendor's food, and to my surprise she's selling fried frogs! Not frog legs, but whole fried frogs! Smaller than the average frog, these munchables can be yours for only 24 cents a piece.

As frogs are not to my taste, I keep looking. In another bowl, she’s selling fried spiders! These are also fried whole, and they look like tarantulas. Another day I saw a street vendor selling fried snakes! They were cooked whole, and each snake was curled up, as if it was hibernating.

Local street food in Phnom Penh includes fried snakes!

Although most river front restaurants have menus with normal fare, some have equally bizarre food items. Right down the street, are a string of ‘pot pizza’ restaurants. No kidding. They have names like ‘Happy Herb Pizza’. 

I've never tried any of these pizzas sprinkled with marijuana, the only mind altering thing I consume is beer. Locals don't eat there much either, but I did meet some American university students who had tried the 'happy' pizza. They left disappointed; none of them felt stoned. The joke was on them, they probably had been served pizza with oregano.

As there are more reputable restaurants on the river side, I enter a doorway down the block, and walk upstairs to what locals call, 'FCC'. This is the Foreign Correspondents Club of Cambodia. An open air colonial style restaurant, it overlooks the Bassac River from its rooftop terrace. A horseshoe shaped bar has ceiling fans overhead. News photos line the walls, dating back to Cambodia's war years.

Would you like some fried insects to snack on?

I've worked with journalists in years past, so I occasionally eat here for nostalgia. Renovated in 1992 by a Hong Kong company, it’s now open to the public. Foreign reporters are rare in Cambodia these days. With no more war here, war correspondents are off in Afghanistan or Iraq. Journos in town today prefer a bar where power players go, like the Elephant Bar. 

The FCC's clientele tonight is mostly backpackers and businessmen, with a diplomat and deminer mixed in with the locals. The lack of windows means there are also many uninvited 'airborne' guests. I hear one patron say, “If you’re going to drink at the FCC, you have to be willing to take insects out of your beer!”

The fact that this 'Foreign Correspondents Club' isn't really for journalists is fitting for Cambodia, as there isn't a free press here anymore. Prime Minister Hun Sen gives only lip service to free speech, and freedom of the press. The fact is, he's Ex-Khmer Rouge - he's been slowly clamping down on press freedoms for years.

Restaurant sign, made from cut-up AK-47 assault rifles!

A recent Phnom Penh headline, detailed how a local newspaper publisher had been accused of 'defamation' by the Cambodian government. His offence: publishing three articles uncovering corruption by officials working for Deputy Prime Minister Sok An. Soon after, a public statement given by 21 rights groups said those defamation charges were a ‘threat to journalists’.

Nearby down the riverfront, is another odd eatery, the Mexican themed, 'Cantina'. I ate there another night with an American friend. That evening I didn't find the decor impressive, until I saw the restaurant’s sign on the wall. Made by some artist, the words ‘Cantina’ had been made out of dark, twisted metalwork. Looking closer, I couldn't believe what I saw! I got up, and approached the sign to make sure.

Clock made from cut-up Kalashnikov rifles!

All the letters on the sign were made from cut up assault rifles! The artist took those AK-47's, sliced them to pieces, bent them into shape, and welded them together to form each metal letter.

Looking to another wall I found a clock, made of the same deadly Kalashnikov rifle material. For the first time during my Southeast Asia travels, I finally saw guns put to good use.

Although disarmament after the Cambodia's wars was extensive, it's still common to see AK-47's carried by local police. A Kalashnikov is more firepower than they need, but they also use them for economic reasons. With many thousands of AK-47's left over when the wars ended, it was much cheaper for the government to convert them from military to police use, rather than to spend millions of dollars buying new pistols for every police station in the country.

Thankfully, guns are not often used here, and murder and armed robbery are rare. But like in Vietnam, purse snatchings are common. An English teacher friend, was a victim of the worst kind of purse snatching. One Sunday she left a church service, when two men on a motorbike approached her from behind. When they grabbed her bag, she tried to let go of her purse, but couldn’t, as the strap was wrapped around her shoulder. She was dragged more than 100 feet down the street. She suffered serious abrasions, and had to go to the hospital to recover.

As terrible as that incident was for her, Cambodia's crime rate is still far lower than in the USA, especially for violent crime. Culturally Khmers are not confrontational people, and don't resort to violence as quickly as Americans these days. Thankfully, it looks like Cambodia's era of violence is behind them.

AIRBORNE ELEPHANTS LEAVING LAOS

Old domestic terminal of Vientiane's Wattay Airport

I’ve left the far north of this lovely land of Laos, and made my way to Wattay Airport, in the capital Vientiane. I’m not here for long though, I’m waiting for a flight. Soon, I’ll be departing. Leaving Laos. 

Overall it’s been an enlightening visit, and I regret that I’m leaving. I only had one close call in Laos. That was the unfortunate encounter between my trousers and a knife, which happened while I was riding on the back of an elephant!  

Walking around the shops and restaurants of the international departure terminal, I find it more modern than expected. The domestic terminal is a relic, (more like a bus station) but the air conditioned international terminal is an oddity of advanced development for such a poor country. Foreign diplomats always fly in and out of here, and just like in other third world capital airports, diplomats hate to be uncomfortable. So they were more than happy to provide foreign aid money to build this new international terminal, to make their own airport experiences smooth and comfy. 

Before I bid adieu to Laos, I stare out the departure gate window across the tarmac. Once again, Laos surprises me!

Will an elephant from Laos survive in North Korea?

Farther down to my left, I see a Russian built cargo jet. What surprises me, is the large starred flag painted across the tail. My eyes widen. There’s no mistaking that flag, this bulky jet is from another communist country. It’s flown all the way here, from North Korea! 

Straining my eyes to see what’s going on, I can see that the rear cargo doors are swung open, and a large truck has been backed up to the tail end. 

What could they be loading? This wasn’t any secret cargo. If there was, they would have loaded the jet over in the military area of the airport, out of sight from foreigners like me. What were they loading exactly? 

TWO ELEPHANTS !

Reported in the media, this pair of departing pachyderms were a gift from the People’s Democratic Republic of Laos, to their communist brothers in the People’s Democratic Republic of North Korea. (Those are strange titles for both, since neither country has any real democracy.)

Never mind that Laos isn’t really communist anymore, as capitalism abounds. There is still oppression here, but it’s nowhere near as bad as in North Korea today. But since the cold war is over and the reds lost, the North Koreans will take all the friends that they can get, even a poor landlocked friend like Laos.

It makes sense that they have to fly the elephants there on a cargo jet; they might not survive an overland trip in trucks, followed by a long sea voyage in a cargo ship. 

Leaving Laos. I'll miss this place.

Then again, I  wonder about the wisdom of sending Asian elephants to North Korea at all. Elephants have enormous appetites, and North Korea is prone to food shortages. I don’t expect that those Laotian elephants will be eating very well after they arrive. And how well will these elephants survive those cold North Korean winters, when they come from a tropical climate?

I’ll miss the simple charms of this warm locale, but now I have to leave this lovely country. My visa has already been extended, and it runs out tomorrow. My time in Laos is up. I will have to cross borders to avoid fines, or risk trouble with the authorities. 

Today I fly back to Saigon in Vietnam, but I won’t be there long either. Traveling on, I will make my way to the final country on my Southeast Asian odyssey.

Cambodia.


**NOTE** The old international airport for Vientiane has been closed. The new airport has opened, across the street.

KNIFED BY AN ELEPHANT !

Elephants and their Laotian mahouts. I rode the elephant in the center.

There are many ways to travel across rugged terrain in poor countries that lack paved roads. To reach my destinations over muddy tracks, I’ve ridden in all manner of four wheel drive vehicles. When there have been only paths, I’ve occasionally ridden mountain bikes, motorbikes, and horses. I even rode a camel once. But this one definitely tops them all.

An elephant!

I’m high on the back of an Asian elephant, riding the ultimate beast of burden as it ambles down a jungle trail in northern Laos. Except for the occasional flap of its great ears, the massive animal’s movements are slow and deliberate. She walks slower than I had imagined, but then again, I never imagined I’d ever ride an elephant at all.

My elevated seat is a chair shaped saddle, strapped to the pachyderm’s back. Directly in front of me a mahout in camouflage fatigues sits astride the elephant’s neck. 

Temple mosaic shows royalty rode elephants

Wondering how it feels, I reach down to touch the powerful animal’s skin. It feels thicker than leather; rough to the touch. 

I have a commanding view up here, high enough that I occasionally have to push tree branches away from my face. I have the same vantage point European hunters had as they hunted tigers from atop these pachyderms during the colonial era. King’s of old from this region used them too. Rather than horses, many Southeast Asian monarchs preferred riding elephants into battle. 

Old Laos was once known as ‘the land of a million elephants’, but there are far fewer of them in the country these days. Some remote communities still use them for labor in the lumber trade. Using their great strength, they are trained to knock down trees, and drag logs through terrain too rough for vehicles. In remote regions, there are still wild herds that survive in the shrinking jungles. 

The view from atop the elephant, crossing a river

The trees open up to a river bank, and the mahout climbs up from the elephants neck to take a seat on the chair next to me. He barks out commands, and the elephant steps into the water. Apparently we’re crossing this dark river just as we are. This isn’t the Mekong River but it’s no creek either, it looks deep. 

I want to ask the mahout how deep the channel is, but he doesn’t speak English. The great beast carefully moves ahead step by step, and the water comes up the beasts shoulders. I glance at the mahout, he’s pulled his bare feet up on the saddle to stay dry. Soon the water is high enough that the elephant lifts the tip of his trunk above water, so that she can continue breathing. 

But the water level doesn’t reach the saddle; I remain dry as the beast ascends the far riverbank and emerges from the water. The elephant probably enjoys these occasional dips, since it’s such a hot tropical day. The water drips off her hide, as she continues down a well worn path into a riverside village. 

Friendly local children greet me as our elephant passes through their village

Three petite children run out to watch the elephant lumber through their village. “Sabadee! Sabadee!” (Hello! Hello!) one calls out, smiling as he waves at the strange white foreigner. 

“Sabadee!” I yell back. Another Laotian villager on the ground greets my mahout, who commands the elephant to stop while they briefly chat in Lao. For some reason, he then hands the mahout a long knife. The knife doesn’t have a sheath, and he stows the blade just beneath my seat. I don’t think anything of it at the time, but I will regret this later. 

After continuing on through more jungle, my all too brief ride above this magnificent animal comes to an end. The mahout guides my ride toward a bamboo platform, where I can safely dismount. 

But it’s not as safe as I think. As the elephant approaches the platform, he brushes up against a nearby tree. The tree bumps the side of my chair, right where the handle of the knife is sticking out. In a flash, the knife is wedged out, and cuts right into my leg!

R-I-I-I-P! I hear the sound of my blue jeans tearing, as the long blade cuts at my right thigh. 

"YEOW!" I yell, as I jump to the side. I’ve been cut! That happened so fast, I had no time to avoid it. My mind races, I’m in serious trouble. 

The knife cut a hole in my blue jeans

I lift my knee to look, and I’m both surprised and relieved to see no blood flowing. A long V-shaped hole has been slashed open in my trousers. The skin on my thigh stings, but fortunately it wasn’t cut open. I've been saved by blue jeans! Gotta love that strong American denim. It’s a good thing that I wasn’t wearing shorts, or I would have been cut and bleeding for sure. 

I climb off the elephant onto the platform, and the mahout looks at me blankly. I’m raging at his carelessness, which nearly injured me. I point at the gaping hole in my jeans. He makes no reaction, not saying a word. He knows he screwed up, and now he’s trying to 'save face'.

I mutter a few insults at him that he doesn’t understand, and walk away. No tip for him. 

Seething with anger I climb into a van, for a safer ride back to Luang Prabang. I’m upset that I lost a pair of jeans, but I’m very lucky to have walked away from that knifing without needing stitches. I guess I could call that a really close shave. Literally.