...ever so often when i do the books in the morning,
usually at the same time when the busses with the cheapos arrive: what's cheapest roomy roomy, have'...( they really talk what they consider pinjin). -i will say, hmmm this might actually work. that is when bob says, get outta here, make hollyday (sanuk, from the thai), because he knows exactly what i' m thinkin: let's build a trapdoor, push butten stile, next one of those.pop goes the hamster- gone..( not that i ever whould do such a thing, the mere fact that i am thinking it tells bob i've had it.
sometimes i go to pp, do the shopping and enjoy myself by beeing thorrowly and gleefully rude to the unwashed and dreadlocked.
That helps sometimes,other times i truely take off and on the wild side.
Vanna my skipper is game, he wants to visit family up near the thai border. It is not wise to dirtbike alone.
we look at my maps: i collect old maps from cambo, some french colonial,some american:'classified,destroy when no longer needed..' sorry, guys, but i DO need them!
some vietnamese, from 1972, see, see, they were planning to colonialize us for all along.
we decide to meet in pp, and go to battambang, and to pailin on the border. later past cochma temple, ahnlog veng, end in seam reap.
so we will be basically skirting the border area, a wartorn, forgotten (well not so forgotten anymore i hear) area. The road to battambang is unremarkably bad, pursat is full of missionaries,barttambang looks like a sleepy frnch countrytown with temples and monks. (i have a hard time not to whine for a mint soda, as i did when i was a kid on hollidays in france...) after Battambang the road gets remarkably bad.Red and white minesticks- they indicate a found mine, to be destroyed,well in a goons age maybe. signs sall along ' danger mines', that does not deter anybody from tilling their soil, the family has to eat after all...
NGO'S have put up signs of -badly- painted cows beeing blown to smitherenes by anti tankmines.( an anti tankmine needs 400kg, an anti personal mine only 4) 'don't do that', the text reads, but as nobody can read it is widely interpreted as; that's the way to go about slaughtering your bovines...
unfortunately,i did not get a usable pic of those,but will treat you to some equally absurd signs at a later date...Along the way the detrius of war, still there. forgotten,unlike the mines..
<img src="http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2005-7/1050924/paild.jpg" alt=" - " />
a burned out tank by the road, some hills in the distance. my friend Marcus, a documettary maker from germany, will in a few month discover that they contain the death caves of pol pot: people ,especcially children got thrown in alive, and died. their bones are still there.not that i would have gone there had i kown. it is -sikkeningly so- becoming a tourist attraction.memorial? gawking at poor dead peoles bones??? don't think so.
<img src="http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2005-7/1050924/pail5.jpg" alt=" - " />
My interest lay with the living, how do they cope? Not without a sense of humor as you see: in the background: tailfinns of b52 bombs, they are getting them ready to plant flowers in them...
<img src="http://img.villagephotos.com/p/2005-7/1050924/pailin.jpg" alt=" - " />
more later, tanja
don't judge book by the movie